#love that she's able to provide him comfort with something that means so much to her

[bennyb0i0]

Slashers with a chubby s/o

Some nsfw in a few, reader gets insecure in some, heart emoji!

Characters: Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Brahms heelshire, Billy lenz, Jason Vorhees, pennywise (2017), art the clown, Stitches the clown, Sinclair brothers (separate)

-He don’t care.

-he tolerates you=he loves you. That includes your body. He likes that he can squish you without it hurting too much.

-not much to say for him, because he literally doesn’t say anything at all. Though he DOES like to pick you up if you’re complaining about your weight. It gets his point across that you’re perfect for him.

-little shit.

-literally little too. Scrawny. Fast. He says something backhanded and scitters away like a cockroach before you can give him a whack.

-he pmo so bad I love him so much.

-if you show that you’re hurt he will only be meaner tbh

-you have to cry/give silent treatment before he stops and apologizes.

-don’t accept his bare minimum “im sorry”s either. If you do that, it’s not enough of a punishment, and he’ll keep being mean.

-he loves your body, but He only really shows it during sex when he’s gripping, rubbing and slapping it.

-���I want that one.”

-I feel like he is a chubby chaser, but it just doesn’t register in his head that he is one. He just likes it.

-he is BRICKED watching you bend over and clean. He’s bricked all the time around you.

-he can’t help it though he just loves you so much.

-cuddles are hard because you’re both just so WARM. (This is a problem that will occur in later scenarios too)

-he loves your breasts specifically. He likes being able to rest his head on them. He just likes being held.

-he doesn’t stop calling you piggy bro.

-slaps your ass when he gets the chance. He likes watching it jiggle. You usually hear him giggle and run away after. Don’t chase, he’s already in the attic.

-He REALLY likes your body. Tits, ass, thighs, tummy, ALL of it.

-he’s not as warm as Brahms, so cuddling him isn’t torture. He’s actually pretty chilly. Warm him up. Let him grab your butt. Hand warmer. Please.

-he loves you so bad.

-He isn’t AS scared of breaking you. It’s comforting.

-if you make him food he will literally do anything for you. It reminds him of his mom. You provide and comfort him like she does. He loves you so much.

-he wants to keep you in a little room with your favorite things. He can’t help it!!

-Another one who dont care

-ur his mate.

-literally so neutral idk why i even included him.

-WAIT breeding kink and he talks about your tits okay bye

-little shit #2

-pokes your tummy and runs away. Feels less loving than how billy does it.

-all jokes aside he’s putting you in missionary to watch your boobs jiggle.

-speaking of boobs, he grabs them, squeezes them, and puts his horn in your face while he does it. He’s so funny.

-I couldn’t find a gif for little shit #3

-one night stand turned into him feeling comfortable shoving his face in your “fat fuckin’ tits”

-Nono he’s def a chubby chaser, but also a joke maker.

-please don’t get insecure he’s just a clown

-little shit #4

-totally Im denial about his attraction.

-will tell you to go away just so he can watch your ass as you walk through the door.

-he’s mean, but you get his cock real hard.

-finally a sweet boy

-he thinks you’re a work of art. You know those candles of torsos they sell at those witchy-hippie shops? He has like three of those he MADE based of YOUR body.

-touchy if you’ll let him.

-how could you possibly be insecure with him?

BRO IT WONT LET ME ADD MORE PICS SO THIS IS A DIVIDER AND IM TALKING ABOUT LESTER SINCLAIR NOW

-anyway this is another boy who don’t care

-he’s perverted, but more sweet than anything.

-also picks you up to show that you’re light as a feather!

-he loves you so much he’d kiss your whole body if you’d let him.

[lvmimis]

cw: set during wano arc right after udon prison is conquered. reader and luffy have been separated since whole cake island arc.

You haven’t shifted in what feels like hours, and perhaps your knees are starting to get tired, but the idea of waking your sleeping love Luffy by moving makes you feel far worse than any lower extremity numbness could. With the deepness of his slumber, the reality is that even if a meteor struck the very earth right now, it probably wouldn’t be able to wake him, and yet even the way you gently stroke his hair is done gingerly, with the lightest of touches. Perhaps a small part of you is compensating for the strange men you’ve let occupy this closeness to your body, and cradling his head in your lap feels like paying a sort of penance for the way you’ve traded away your affections for coin and information over the past few weeks. It’s silly - Luffy wouldn’t care if you sold your body to every person on earth, as long as you chose to stay by him when all was said and done.

Tama peers at you from a distance, the hat she’s braided together for Luffy held tightly in her hand. 

“Do you think he’ll wake up soon?” she asks. “I made him this.”

You smile. “So very kind of you,” you offer her. She smiles brightly, and continues to hold on to it for when the right moment comes, as she walks off. You continue to watch over Luffy as he sleeps, and soon you are no longer looking at him, but through him, playing a conversation in your head that has yet to happen. 

Were you okay (without me)? How did you survive (without me)? 

Did you miss me? We won’t ever be apart again, right?

There is a part of you that attaches so strongly to this man resting in this sacred holding space - stronger than any anchor, woven more tightly than the strongest twine. Luffy is a lifeline to not just you, but many, and yet you wonder just how desperately the others hold on. Can he sense how much you need him? Does he need you even half as much?

Your hand passes carefully across the surface of his cheek. He is so peaceful when he’s asleep, like a gentle breeze, the kind that teases through linens hung out to dry; turbulent and troublesome when he is awake, a strong gust that tears roofs from homes and turns ships into wrecks. Your hand stops, and your fingers cup his cheek gently, holding your world in the palm of your hand. For just a moment, you imagine that there’s a ghost of a smile onto his features, gone just as fast as you perceive it, and your heart skips a beat.

And then suddenly you’re embarrassed. Embarrassed at the weight in your chest and the emotion that wells up inside you just looking at the man you love. Over the time you’ve been apart, you’ve grown to hate men a little - some men, the kind that see you as nothing but a form of entertainment in some way, shape or form, the type that demand to be held by a woman with care without providing any sense of safety or comfort or kindness to remind them that they are not interchangeable, that each lap is different and each bosom is a unique sort of sweetness and each heart has its own idiosyncrasies.

And yet, you could never hate this one man, even if you tried.

You try to focus your eyes on something else, relishing in the lush greens of the forest and the dappled sunlight that peeks through the tall bamboo; you focus your ears not at the thump of your own heart beating but at the bird songs. You try to feel something else other than the rise and fall of his chest.

“Hey.”

The sound of Luffy’s voice can draw you in for miles, and he’s awake now, dark brown eyes heavy-lidded as they look up at you.

It takes you a moment, but breathily you whisper a greeting back at him. “Hey.”

As though still wrought with a fairytale like fatigue, he smiles at you and it turns you into mush.

“I think I forgot how pretty you are,” he mumbles.

The last thing he means to do is to charm you with anything other than the truth, but you can feel tears come to your eyes.

And he senses this, his grin growing wider and more reassuring until the tears splash softly onto him. He brings himself up into a sitting position as you wipe them away, and quickly pulls you against his chest.

He doesn’t have to say it but the way he holds you, you can already tell, he missed you just as much as you did him.

[etherealeowyn]

"You've Destroyed Me" - Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Angst & Fluff

Word Count: 889

When Joel and Y/n experienced a glimpse of normalcy while staying in Wyoming, they learn just how much they mean to each other.

It was odd finally being able to lay in bed that had been taken care of, not like the countless other dilapidated mattresses that Joel and Y/n had been forced to sleep on during their trek to Wyoming. That small town was the closest glimpse of normalcy Y/n had experienced since the outbreak first happened, and it was both comforting and saddening. Obviously, it felt good to be able to relax and step away from the horrors of the world, but at the same time, it made her wonder how much different her life would’ve been if none of this happened in the first place.

Joel’s arms were wrapped around her body, and Y/n’s head gently rested on his chest as she breathed in the scent of the cologne that had been left in the bathroom of the house they were staying at. Her body was relaxed, but her mind was still racing, and she could tell by the expression on his face that he was going through something similar.

“You’re the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” Joel spoke, breaking through the silence that had overtaken the room.

Y/n jumped up from his chest, hurt washing over her face, confused as to why he’d say something so hurtful to her out of the blue.

“Excuse me why would you say that?” she quipped back, looking at the man with tears forming in her eyes.

“No listen, you’ve destroyed me. Before you came into my life, nothing mattered to me in this fucked up apocalyptic world, but once I met you, I became scared of everything again. I’m terrified of living in this place without you, and though I want desperately to be the guy who doesn’t care, I can’t be him anymore. Because being him means that I couldn’t be with you, and the thought of that kills me,” Joel finished, and it was evident by the shakiness of his voice that he was holding back tears.

There hadn’t been a single instance when Y/n had seen Joel cry, and I think being in a place that provided a sort of normalcy was getting to him. Making him recognize a level of humanity within himself that he hadn’t been in touch with since before the outbreak.

“Joel, there’s nothing wrong with that, trust me I understand how much easier it is going through life not caring, but you’re not going to be happy that way. Everything is going to be monotonous and worthless, it’s scary finally feeling a sense of happiness again because I know how quickly it could be stripped from you. But at the same time, it makes life so much more precious, because you grow to appreciate the people around you even more. It’s bold of you to think you could get rid of me though, as if I’d let go of the one person in my life that I truly love,” Y/n replied, laughing away the couple of hot tears that had rolled down her cheeks.

“Do you really love me?” Joel asked, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down as Y/n’s hand that was resting tenderly on his thigh.

“More than anything else in this fucked up world,” she replied, but this time much more seriously.

He sat there for a moment, in some sort of shock, unable to comprehend that something this good could happen to him.

“I love you too,” he responded, and as the word slipped out of his mouth, it was the first time in a long time that he felt drops of water fall from his eyes.

Y/n’s hand reached towards his face, and ever so carefully, she wiped away his tears with the pad of her thumb. There was a soft smile playing on her lips, and the feeling of her skin touching him made the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile.

Joel began to lead towards the woman, and she followed suit, the pair stopping when his lips met hers. When their mouths connected, it didn’t feel like any of the other times they had kissed, this time there was an overwhelming emotional presence enveloped within it. Something that was there before but never reached this extreme.

When the two pulled apart for air, the atmosphere of the room felt different. The silence didn’t feel so strange anymore, it was comfortable, and for the first time in a long time the pair didn’t want to keep moving from place to place.

“Once we’re done delivering Ellie to the Fireflies, maybe we could come back and stay here. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m at home. Not just staying at a place, but truly at home,” Y/n spoke, and Joel nodded feeling his heart pound fast in his chest.

“I’d like that too, it would be nice to stay put, especially if I get to be with you and not worry all the time,” he responded pulling the woman back down on his chest and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Maybe you could have your sheep too, and if I’m lucky you could sing to me,” Y/n spoke with a smile unable to leave her face. “Now that would be like heaven to me.”

“I’m sure I could arrange something baby,” Joel laughed.

[renasomewhere]

My karma analysis and by analysis I mean saying what I see with pictures to help (and some theories.)

Here mizi says

"stop pretending to be righteous. Neither you nor I deserve to be saved" Mizi probably see's this as her survivor guilt and blaming luka for hyuna's death

Then there is a scene of the arguement seen in the teaser, I am not going to add a picture for this as I believe that not much is needed to say (unless somebody says otherwise lmao) One interesting thing though is sua stops mizi from kissing her.

Mizi takes the laptop from issac which has the missile launch controls on here, she clicks execute. Now I believe that it was supposed to be timed and mizi took the timer off to kill not only the segyien but herself and the rebellion. she holds the laptop close and they run to get it off of her as mizi just sits holding. Ready to die.

It then cuts to this which my first thought when watching it for the first time, and now for that matter is its relation to the true face comic, More specifically this "page"

"A bunch of idiots circling you at all times"

Everybody wants to see mizi happy, which is why the people in karma Immediately go up to her. They want her happy and that is it.

The episode then cuts to IvanTill HyunaLuka with hyunwoo and Mizisua but those are quite big so I probably will make analysis' for each of those!

"Hyuna I have something to confess. She was secretly rehearsing her death every night and I knew but pretended not to. Maybe I just wasn't as desperate for her. I know my love was different from yours. But it was love, too."

She thinks because she didn't step in and instead chose to pretend that her love for sua is invalid, Which isn't the case but mizi is presumably having a breakdown like saw in wiege (and this to, but wiege is older)

Sua rehearsed her death not only because that was something she was ready to do to keep her alive but also because her "mother" would most likely be disappointed if sues death wasn't grand.

"If you would have saw the look on her face too, you wouldn't be able to judge her"

More my god my universe stuff. Saying that if anybody would have saw Sua In mizi's eyes then they would fall for her the same way that she did.

The left screenshot is from karma, we see many things on mizi AND on sua, with the latter having a screen of sorts on her collarbone. My first thought went to robot sua from the artwork on the left but I am most likely wrong

The rocket is falling which will cause destruction across the stage. they then show all the characters EXCEPT luka for some reason or another, Perhaps because luka is the only one of them to not have a "provider" as he was grew in a lab (lab baby lukaa)

And then it has the best scene in all of alien stage that we have been waiting for since round one:

MIZISUA KISS, TAKE THAT MIZITILL SHIPPERS. THIS IS HER ONE LOVE AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE TILL LIKE THIS.

Sorry, I got carried away. Continue, shall we?

I'm gonna combine all of these into one because they are all related. Mizi is beaten up, Either by the rebellion trying to get the laptop back or luka in self defence. She holds onto till and a ghost of sua rests on her girlfriend trying to comfort her despite the kinda big situation.

In a zoomed in shot Till's earpiece glows red, He is alive.

She reaches and calls out for issac. she needs to save him, She thinks she has killed so many people and she can't let till be one of those. She grabs onto his shirt and begs him to save till.

It then flashes back to the scene where sua is watching and rehearsing her death. Mizi runs into her room and holds onto her, grappling her and never letting go. Keeping her god in arms reach.

Issac: "For humans... and for these beasts too innocence was a luxury they couldn't afford. In this endless suffering, to love and be loved. To hold onto hope for a day that may never come. Is that survival instincts, or selfishness. At the center of it all was a woman. A woman now called a witch, who was always searching for love. Can we really blame her for that? Where did this original sin begin? And in a trial with no clear answer, can these lives ever overcome it?"

I don't have much to say about this speech except that It is obviously about mizi. It cuts to mizi when it says "a woman now called a witch". Mizi is this so called witch for wanting a basic function of love? she wants to love and she wants to crush and as issac says can we really blame her?

Actually using the picture above it shows that luka is back as an idol and that the attack on the stage that happened seven years earlier by mizi was known as a tragedy. The korean on the middle image translates roughly to ALNST disaster seventh aniversary... where is the culprit. The segyien know that mizi is the culprit for this and that she is gone, with the rebellion or on her own we do not know however I hope it is the former and she is in a place where she can actually get better from the trauma she has induced time and time again

It cuts to a shot of a museum we see a headline for in the previous image. A museum of everything from that season of alien stage, from the collars to the microphones and even the dresses.

In this shot the middle shows two of tills guitars and lukas violin used in The final round. on the sides we see the main event so to speak: Dna mixes of the cast. On the left we see a Mix of mizi and ivan and on the right we see a mix of luka hyuna and sua as well as till mixed with somebody I don't know.

Till who we assume is now working for the rebellion has broken into the museum to save these children from there life in captivity, the only life they knew and the life he at one point knew. Till knows how these children must feel and doesn't want them to feel that way anymore, He wants them to be free and live a life that they can call theirs.

Tags: @whosamity143 @crustyfloor @espritradieux and @localfandom

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Comfort for the Soul

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts*!Reader [REUPLOAD]

This is the reupload as I made the mistake of publishing it the first time round and it not being even finished, lol! Attempt no.2!

Part 2 out now!

A/N: Look babe, new comfort character just dropped! I've been loving these fics for Bob and wanted to add something myself! Not much to add apart from reader has no descriptions of what they look like but is afab.

I will be uploading a second part to this, so be sure to be on the look out! It'll also go uploaded onto my A03!

Summary: When you realise your supply of blood bags has run dry, Bob is more than willing to become your temporary blood bag.

Tags: blood, swearing, blood drinking, reader is part vampire (think Blade - daywalker), Bob is very touch starved, fluff.

Wordcount: 4,2k

E/C = eye colour

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You stare down at the message your phone had lit up with, a simple message from your boss, Valentina.

If there was one thing you asked for from Valentina, it was to have the necessities: a roof over your head and some decent safety. It's not just that, it's that she's able to bring months on end supplies of blood bags, it's her buying a fridge just for the blood, buying the best quality cuts of steaks for you to eat rare or blue. She even got you herbal teas to help nurture your hunger temporarily.

In return, you provide your skills, your skills as a fighter, an assassin.

Looking over the message, your blood felt as if it was beginning to boil, nearly crushing your phone from the lack of explanation:

Y/N. The board is questioning the lack of blood bags. I can guarantee more to come in three day's time once we've figured things out. - V

"Just my fucking luck." You grunt, looking at your calendar on your phone; three days is simply too long to go without blood.

You're mad at yourself for overindulging in your supply. You had always been careful, counting what you needed daily, but you had decided to splurge out the night before, consuming two extra bags because your stomach wasn't satisfied.

A few days, she promised, though you doubted she was in any rush to fulfil that.

You check the clock, realising it's getting late, your accomplices/dorm-mates are up and you can hear that they're all in the kitchen grabbing breakfast.

Groaning, you grab a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses to shield your eyes from the sunlight. You can only thank those who experimented on you for giving you the gift of walking in the sun rather than burning.

You walk out, and immediately your senses are overwhelmed by the strong smells you could normally ignore. You can sense many heartbeats, and their scents differ from one another. Your ears seem to ring when you hear laughter, and your vision is hazy despite the shades to help.

Crossing the threshold from your dorms to the kitchen, you find out you’re the last person to be up.

"Ah, look who finally decided to rise from the dead." Walker is the first to 'greet' you, the triumphant look present on his face, revelling in taking you down a bit.

The smell of grease hits your nostrils before you can answer back, the strength of the coffee pot mixes to create a wavering nauseous stench, but you try to ignore both smell and words jabbed your way.

Walker doesn't seem to relent in his words, looking around the group to see if anyone else is laughing with him. Alexei is flipping bacon with his sous chef Bucky. Yelena is blitzing fruit up into some green concoction with the help of Bob chopping, and Ava is sipping her coffee, watching silently with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"I mean," he continues, "has anyone actually looked in her room to see if she sleeps in a coffin?"

No one answers, but you can hear their snickering; there are eyes on you, waiting to see how you'd quip back.

"Maybe you'd like to sleep in one, Walker, it would really help with your attitude." you jab back, not as fierce as you'd wish, slowly moving round the table sluggishly, sitting yourself on the kitchen island table, opposite Yelena and Bob.

Yelena waves at you with the lid of the blender, "You look like shit, my friend."

"Yeah, I feel like shit." You mutter, looking over your surroundings, debating if you should grab a cup of coffee to help your nausea.

Bob is the only one who is silent, taking in both sides, listening intently, but his soft eyes do not leave you. There is visible concern in the way he looks at you.

"Hi," he awkwardly waves with the knife still in hand, putting it down. He looks as if he wants to say something about how you're doing, stopping from opening his mouth as he changes the subject, "Want a coffee?"

"That would be lovely, Bob. Thank you." You find yourself smiling easily when you're with or near Bob, eyeing him as he stands to go over to grab your favourite mug.

Yelena doesn't say anything, but she watches, a thoughtful raise in the brow, her eyes moving through between you and Bob. She knows something, she's thinking, but she's quiet and that is the scariest thing of all; not knowing what Yelena Belova was thinking.

The smell of black coffee brings your attention back, looking up at Bob as he hands you over your mug, a secret Santa mug you found out was from Ava saying 'Will this fucking day ever end?'

"Just freshly brewed." He smiles sweetly, your hands grazing over his accidentally as the mug is passed over, earning a collected mocking "Awww" to fill the room.

"It's so gross, I'm gonna puke." Ava fakes retches. Walker mimics kissing faces at you, but not in front of Bob. You're glad the large shades are hiding most of your face, or else the remaining warmth had made its way there.

It is only Alexei who seems to be 'supportive' of this. "Ah, young love! How it warms my heart."

"Yeah, if you had a heart to begin with," jabs Walker.

Bucky, who has been quiet in the room this entire time, looks over to John with a single look, but it doesn't stop the ex-Captain America.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say, John?" You chime in, lowering your glasses to stare directly at him. It's obvious that they have changed from their usual E/C to become a glowing red hue.

"Just surprised you haven't taken a straw to any of our necks whilst we're sleeping yet," he adds nonchalantly.

"Trust me, John. I wouldn't go anywhere near your blood- it reeks of 'I peaked in high school.'"

The snorts of laughter make you feel better, even Bob is laughing quietly to himself.

"Enough." Bucky starts before a fight can start in the kitchen area. The last one didn't go down so well. "I'm meeting with Valentina shortly. I can assume you can all get along without killing one another?"

"Yeah, sure, dad." Ava chimes in, and you nearly snort your coffee all over the place.

"Ha ha." Bucky rolls his eyes, strolling out as the remainder of you continue to eat breakfast, chatting about recent missions or new ones on the horizon. There's even talk of Bob going to his first one, but he is still reluctant in bringing forth the Sentry.

"If the day ever comes, Bob, you can always ask for me to be there." You say to him. This seems to brighten something within him, a hopeful look that burns brighter than any sun. "Really?" His face is one of relief and you can only wish you could bottle that look up forever.

Breakfast ends, and you ask to wash up, since you didn't need to eat, but no one made any argument against it.

Washing the dishes and putting them to dry, you're in your own little world, when you sense a fluttering heartbeat, a presence behind you-

"Sorry!" You don't know who jumps first, the loudness in Bob's presence or for you to nearly drop the plate in your hands.

"It's all good," you wave it off, turning to face him properly. "What's up?"

"The sunglasses-are you okay?"

"Oh, these?" You flip them off, revealing your more than normal eyes to him. "No, but I can assure you I'm not hungover." You laugh at your own joke pathetically, but Bob still wears a small smile, one that is still concerned for you.

"Yelena told me- you sometimes run out of... blood." He doesn't know where he's going with his words, and something shudders deep down in your chest. How Yelena knew and told Bob you don't know.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a bit of crankiness-which doesn't help if I get pissed off by Walker."

"I mean," he continues nervously, "you... ran out? She told me about one time when it happened."

"Oh." You recall it, the hunger was a gnawing pit, constantly never satiated, even when it was filled, but that time... that had been pure torture.

You had personally confined yourself to isolation until that next blood supply arrived, nearly consuming half of the supply in one go.

You sense the spike in Bob's heartbeat, he's nervous about something, you can see a single trail of sweat on his forehead, focusing in on the vein in his neck that moves when he's tense.

You're hypervigilant on the small parts of his nervous system that you almost don't hear his next words: "Maybe... I can be of help? With-with the blood I mean-"

"No." You answer curtly, and the word stops him that he looks at you like a kicked puppy. "Oh," he answers back sheepishly, his fingers going to the hem of his frayed sweatshirt, "did I do... something wrong?"

Your stance softened, realising what you've done, how harsh you said. Way to go, Y/N. Scaring him off. You hesitantly step forward to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. You feel him visibly tense, not from your touch, but in worry you'll both be brought back to a old memory of yours. It does not happen thankfully.

"I'm sorry, I don't want you to hurt yourself, Bob. This stuff can be really dangerous- what if I were to lose control? Hurt you?" You whisper the last part, your heart clenched in fear. "I would never forgive myself, Bob."

"I trust you." he answers earnestly. It's the same way all these times you've spoken to him when he doubted himself. How you helped bring some clarity and reason to him, to make him feel safe, that he was a trusted member of the team.

No wonder you developed such a crush for him so quickly.

"Bob-"

"I trust you- you've done so much for me... why can't I help you for once?" You're thankful you're the only two in the kitchen now, for the gladdening look he has, the rosy tint to his cheeks... the glint in his pretty blue eyes, it's all too much.

You sigh, maybe in defeat, maybe from nerves, but your stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of having a meal. "Fine. Tonight, meet me here when everyone else goes to sleep. Drink lots of fluids."

"Of course," he's grinning and he’s so proud of himself and it's taking a lot in you not to kiss him all over his pretty face. "I'll be very prepared."

You however, don't.

It's gone midnight when people slowly begin to filter back to their rooms, another 30 minutes before Bob finally emerges from his room.

As quiet as possible, he contemplates knocking on your door, deciding against it to not rouse noise or suspicion.

Tiptoeing carefully barefoot across the cold floors, the darkness warps shadows across his vision, and he fears for a moment if the Void is one of them, waiting to grab him and swallow him whole.

He ignores that worry, placing it in the back of his head, as he continues towards the kitchens, listening out to any noises as he keeps the lights off for now.

It's only when he hears it: the soft rustling of pots and pans, a fridge being opened. He rounds the corner slowly, thinking it to be Alexei or Walker grabbing a drink when he's greeted with them.

Glowing eyes, watching.

'Tapetum lucidum': You had described the term to him when he accidentally caught you in the middle of the night, nursing a herbal tea to quell your stomach.

The lights were off completely like they were now, leaving poor Bob to almost drop his cup when golden-white luminated eyes jolted up to stare right back at him.

He was surprised he didn't wake the entirety of New York with his scream.

Now, they didn't as much scare him but fascinate him. There were many things that fascinated him, and sometimes he found himself staring for a bit too long at your eyes, the elongated teeth that glinted when you spoke, the way he thought you stared him down like he was prey-

"Hey," the figure whispered, and a small light from the kitchen illuminated you. Gone were the golden-white eyes, replaced by the lovely E/C ones Bob was so used to. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Me too." Bob smiled, looking around to see some items already gathered; some tissue paper, band-aids of all sizes. Bob picks up a certain item, its content jiggling it its small carton.

"Apple juice?"

"Helps to not make you faint, helps with blood sugar." You counter, gesturing for him to sit as you move around him. There is a nervousness to you that he rarely sees in you. It's frantic, not as controlled as it usually is when you're not starved out your mind.

"You sure you want to do this?" You ask as you stand next to him. Even sitting on a stool, Bob comes pretty much eye level to you, and maybe even smaller due to him slouching.

"I want to help." He says again with a certain smile, and that smile is enough to ground you, to let you know you're trusted.

"Stop me at any point when it gets all too much, and I mean it." You sigh, looking him up at down as if you're sizing him up. "Now, take your shirt off."

Bob is certain his face has erupted into a million shades of red, but thanks to the dimness of the room, it's not as noticeable. He averts his eyes from you shyly at your frankness.

"I can't believe you just said that so casually." He says, but obliges, lifting his shirt slowly.

It takes all in you not to ogle: the man is ripped in a way you cannot describe. You force yourself to look away, but your mouth goes dry when you see the sudden happy trail going down towards his trousers that he hides when his shirt is off.

Now, shirtless and carved like a Greek statue, Bob awaits.

You shuffle closer to him until his scent hits you, nerves but mixed with his everyday smell, a hint of mint in his shampoo, the laundry detergent from his clothing.

Your mouth waters, eyes brighten in the darkness of the room, fangs grow as you eye the side of his neck. "Promise me you'll tell me to stop?"

"I promise." He answers, but he's so enraptured by the sight of you, your fangs, the way your eyes glow hauntingly. He's scared he will be too occupied in looking at you to even notice.

You enter his space even more, situating yourself between his parted legs, your fingers grace over his skin carefully. Like a sculptor, Bob is carved like a God only a creator would be proud or, but you are also a lover of art.

Bob visibly shivers, his body tenses and untenses, but his blue eyes do not leave you. "So... how are you going to do it?"

"I'm going to bite you." You say matter-of-factly. Bob snorts lightly, his brown locks hide his eyes as he shyly looks back at you. "As simple as that." He takes a small breath in, tilting his neck more to the side, giving his permission.

You lean over him, and that is when his heartbeat is the loudest, the strongest. It rings like a bell in your ears, overcoming you from the sound of it. It is all you can hear, not the humming of the lights, nor the sound of the city outside, just him and only him.

Your hands find him gently, your face leaning over him, closer and closer to him, sniffing him lightly and unintentionally- his scent drives you wild.

Bob is as stiff as a statue himself, waiting for the long-awaited pain, and when your mouth finally comes into contact with his skin, he thinks it's not so bad, the curvature of your lips is so soft on him.

That's when your fangs sink in.

"Oh-holy shit." He grips the counter with an urgency from the sharpness of the pain, followed by the sound of heavy slurping. Bob is now suddenly aware that this is all that he wanted, but the suddenness of it, the sounds that are coming from him, are all very intense.

And you... The noises that come from you the moment you sink your fangs into his shoulder are like music to Bob's ears. You groan from the delight; blood fills your mouth as you greedily try to swallow as much of it as possible.

You don't feel close enough, and Bob almost yelps when he feels one hand move to hold him closer, the other moving to run through his hair.

He shudders at the light tug in his hair, turning his head further the other way, a moan of delight makes him shudder against you.

He's never felt this open with anyone before, and having you so close against him, his head swims with further hurried thoughts.

His hands don't know what to do, hanging awkwardly and playing with the string of his sweatpants, twitching to touch something-anything-to occupy his thoughts as he grows closer and closer to losing his mind. It's when he realises, he needs you- you're not close enough, he needs to feel you practically against him to feel whole.

How will he tell that to you: to ask so sweetly that he's begging. He feels himself growing warmer, beads of sweat trace down his back. His eyes are blinking back the bright lights of the kitchen.

Despite your mouth being attached to his neck, you notice his fidgety hands, drawing back lightly to murmur against the wet flesh of him, "You can touch me."

He doesn't need to be told twice, his arms wrap round your waist, pulling you closer than you thought could be possible, a shudder escaping his trembling lips. A wave of relief washes over him, how has he never before had you this close?

His eyes are squeezed so tightly, clinging to any part of you for that will give him comfort. It's not even the pain of your fangs in his flesh that hurts him anymore-rather, it's become a dull ache, but the need to have you as flush to you as possible.

"Ah-shit, Y/N." It's the first sign that he's getting overwhelmed, and astonishingly, you detach yourself from him. As quick as you're gone, Bob already misses the feel of your mouth on his skin.

You don't take much from him for his first, pulling back to look over him. His skin is flushed, his brown hair is clinging to the back of his neck as if he has a fever. It doesn't help that his body has slumped lightly, holding you as close to him until his head is pressed to your chest.

Despite this closeness, he sways lightly with you in his arms, and in a panic, you're quick with the apple juice carton, pressing the paper straw to sit on his bottom lip.

"Here, drink up. Don't want you passing out on me." You say sheepishly.

Groggily, his eyes open, staring up at you, adjusting to the dimness of the kitchen. Your eyes glow lightly when the shadows dance across them, otherwise, they are E/C; bright and bold and beautiful as anything.

It's not just your eyes that render him speechless, but the blood - his blood- smeared messily over the bottom part of your face. Your lips gleam with the redness as if you're wearing lipstick, with some having already beginning to dry over your cheeks and collecting at the tip of your chin.

You feel nervous with his eyes on you, wiping the blood away in a terrible attempt with the back of your hand.

To him, you're are a sight to behold.

Gingerly, he searches for the straw with his mouth, gulping deeply until his tongue is coated with the sickly-sweet substance of apple juice. Too sweet that it tasted artificial, he pulls back, his fingers dancing lightly over your hips, a light hum drawn from him.

"Are you okay, Bob?" He hears you ask him softly, sweetly, does he think you're some angel, and he's truly experiencing heaven. He feels everywhere and nowhere, sitting in a space that is so silent and peaceful.

He nods groggily, his eyes drift as if he's sleepy and it's caught up with him, his head leans forward until his forehead is pressed the night shirt.

"Mhm," it's the only thing he can say in this very moment; his skin is dull with where your fangs have pierced him, but he feels the most alive from it. "Do I- uh-how do I taste?"

It comes out clunky on his tongue, he internally curses himself for not wording that a bit better, but you smile at him to help with his nerves, teeth white against the red and he's gulping nervously.

"Call it corny," you haven't pulled back from him, he's noticed, in fact, you feel warmer now, a normal body temperature, "but you taste sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, very nice." He blinks and he misses it, that you've already cleaning him and yourself up. There's band-aids already on him before his brain catches up with him.

His shoulder feels stiff, but there is an element of thrill that he feels seeping into his veins. He thinks its endorphins, the happy kind that have brought him to feel so content with you being so close to him.

Bob stares at you dazed, as if he's witnessing some phenomena. There seems to be some rejuvenation that has flooded back into you, energy that you have when you drink from your blood bags. He feels a sense of pride that he managed to make you look healthy once more, rather than that sickly-feverish state.

He's starting to stare directly at the dribble of blood down your chin you've missed, and without thought, swipes it gently with a shaking hand.

It catches you off-guard for a second, and you observe him look at the smear on his finger. You can see the cogs turning in his brain, debating whether to take a lick, but he stops himself when he remembers who he's with, wiping it off onto his pant leg.

"That was... pretty nice." He breathes into your space, trying to take as much of you into him. He realised quickly he still has you wrapped in his arms, but you're not making an move away from him.

"Are you going to be able to make it back to your bed?" You ask kindly, tentatively stroking a piece of hair out of his eye. Bob thinks he's happy like this if he fell asleep like this, but he dejectedly nods. "I'll be okay."

It takes a bit to pry himself off you, to allow you to move around him and tidy, glancing back to him occasionally to make sure he hasn't fallen asleep at the kitchen counter. Bob has a giddiness to him now, this unspoken feeling that only you two have shared, and he wishes desperately for more.

He groans when he feels you soft fingers touching him back to consciousness. He's unsure when he fell into it and when he came back round, but as he stands himself up, the words come tumbling out from his dry mouth.

"So-Same thing again?"

"Oh, I don't know if that's right," you say, watching the light that is present in his eyes dies a little. He seems to be a bit down that he's been turned down; it's often that the two of you share time together, reading and sharing book recommendations, but this... this was a far more intimate albeit brief moment he doesn't think he'll ever have again with you.

It's you who brings him back, reaching out first, touching him, a care you have in your eyes that he feels so much that he thinks you're some otherworldly beauty.

"If we did do this again... we'd have to be discreet..." The thought of being caught is both a thrilling yet nightmarish concept; imagining anyone seeing you feeding off your crush. What ideas would they have in their head?

"I can be discreet." He's nodding, and the image of an energetic puppy fills your mind. You smile at that, and you nod yourself. "Okay, I just-don't want to overwhelm you. It's quite a lot, I get it."

Bob wants to interject, to tell you that it's the most exhilarated he's felt in some time, ever since he got the serum, but he stops himself, reassures you by hugging you tightly. He's gotten a taste of you being close, skin on skin, and now, he's addicted to it, yearns for more.

"I'll do anything to make you happy." He whispers, and your heart clenches at his words. He's too good and pure and lovely for you to need to tell yourself that he would never like you in the same way you do for him.

"Thank you, Bob." You whisper back, a temporary promise to be sealed.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty nine

authors note: it's all coming together...

cw/tw: fluff, angst, suspense, discussion regarding sexual assault and incest

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

cast + masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

There’s a calm that befalls Solana and Roman following her discharge from the hospital. A welcomed respite from the chaos that’s consumed the both of them in the past couple of weeks. 

A space of peace and appreciation following the scariest of things.

Solana was truly convinced that she was going to lose her babies, a loss so catastrophic, she’s not certain what recovery from said catastrophe would look like. 

What that would mean for herself and her marriage.

But, it was avoided. A horrific scare, at best. A scare that somehow helped husband and wife have much needed, long overdue conversations. Even the argument between them that preceded the scare. Though she regrets that it ever reached that point, there’s a part of her that is happy it occurred. It allowed for the demolition of a budding wall of mistrust between them. 

Demolition that was a must for their marriage to continue to grow and strengthen. 

And, it will.

Because she loves this man and what they’ve built too much to watch it all fall apart.

They owe each other that much.

Most importantly, for their girls. 

The day Solana is released is spent almost entirely with her laying in bed with Roman, the two of them embracing both each other and the solitude and comfort found in once another. A necessary thing, given all that transpired.

But also, something that Roman largely attributes to the doctor’s orders that she take the next couple weeks “easy.”

That seems to be something, however, that her husband has taken perhaps a bit too literally. 

He doesn’t want her doing anything outside of showering and using the bathroom. Dulce needs to go outside? He handles it. They need to eat something? He reaches out to his private chef and has meals delivered. She wants some air? He sits with her out on their balcony. 

Thoughtful and kind is his dedication to making sure she follows the doctor’s orders both for herself and the pregnancy, but it’s also….a lot.

It’s why she tries to make her “great escape” while he’s napping. They both were, but she woke up to find him still asleep, providing her the out she needed.

Solana makes it downstairs and into the kitchen, is even able to settle on the dish she wants to make for them, a small smile of satisfaction on her face as she relishes in her victory.

“What are you doing up?"

Damn.

Solana turns around to find her scowling husband standing before her with his arms crossed.

“Baby,” she smiles nervously. “You’re up.”

His expression is unwavering. “Yeah, and you shouldn’t be.”

Sighing, she walks over to him. “Roman….” Solana moves her hands up down his broad chest, trying her best to help him understand this in the simplest of terms. “I’m on pelvic rest. Not bed rest. They’re—they’re different, baby.”

“Close enough,” he shrugs. Solana’s shoulders slump as does the small smile that was on her face. “In bed.”

“Ro,” she whines. “I was in the bed in the hospital. I’ve been in bed since we got home. I’m tired of being in the bed. I need to move around.”

“Didn’t you go to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Then you moved around.”

She closes her eyes. “Roman.”

“It’s bad enough your ass was picking up and holding Dulce. She weighs more than your weight restrictions.”

Solana’s eyes widens. “She’s five pounds, Roman.”

“Exactly. Anything five and over is too much.”

With another heavy sigh, Solana goes for a different approach. “Roman?”

“Yes?”

A warm smile, soft voice, and pleading eyes. “I love you. I love you so much, but I think….I think you’re being a little too much.”

He looks absolutely baffled. "I’m following the doctor’s orders.”

Solana makes a sound, head nodding side to side to depict her not outright agreeing with his statement. “That’s….debatable.”

Roman rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out his back pocket. “Since we’re on the subject, I made a list of some of the things we need to change while you’re pregnant.”

Somehow, someway, Solana already knows this list is just going to be another continuation of his extreme overprotectiveness. “Oh?” Roman unlocks the phone and navigates to something, handing it to her to reveal a list in the notes app. Solana is more surprised by the length of said list than anything. Her finger keeps moving to scroll. “Ro, how—how long is this?”

He shrugs. “It was while you were sleeping at the hospital. I was bored and had the time.”

Solana stops when she catches wind of one of the suggestions being ‘no cooking for the twins.’

That most definitely has nothing to do with the pregnancy. 

With a gentle smile, she places the phone on the counter and moves her hands up his chest, asking in a soft voice, “Roman, how are you?” 

A fair, valid question, because the past few weeks have been a bit of a storm for both of them, but in the middle of said storm she cannot and will not forget the presence and impact of his grief. 

He looks visibly taken back by her changing of topics but eventually moves his hand down to hers, guiding them into the living room where he sits down on the sofa and carefully pulls her down next to him. 

She starts to ask him another question when he reaches for the coffee table where a stack of papers are spread.

Her stomach twists. She knows exactly what said papers are. 

Roman is the one surprising her this time when he hands them to her, sharing, “I want you to read it.”

Naturally, she’s shaking her head, refusing to accept it. “Roman, no. Fetu left it for you.”

“And I want to share it with you,” he pushes back, offering, “it’s easier for you to read it than it is for me….for to me to explain.”

That, she most definitely understands. It’s a large reason why she wants to have him read her letter from her mom.

It truly is easier that way. 

Still, Solana has to ask one more time. “Are—are you sure?”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in his voice nor on his face. “Yes.”

Another deep breath as she finally accepts the letter, taking a second before allowing her eyes to take in the words from beyond this world. 

Roman,

My sweet, big eared boy.

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. Go figure. 

I imagine you’re upset and sad, and that’s okay. It’s like I’ve always told you, you have feelings, and it’s okay to have them.

But, I’m also going to tell you something I haven’t told you in years, you have a big heart, Roman. A good heart, and it’s never made you weak. It’s always been your greatest strength. 

But, I know they tried their best to strip you of that, and Roman, in many ways. they did. By keeping me from you for so many years. Rikishi’s big ass knew I would work my damn hardest to help you keep your humanity, because you are so much more than what they tried to turn you into.

You are not an unfeeling killer. You are a young man who lost so much as a young boy. Who was always expected to be perfect. That’s why I tried so hard to just encourage you to be a kid, to be human, to recognize it’s okay to have feelings. 

Now, for the truth.

Roman, I’m tired. 

I’ve been tired for the past few years. Especially since the diagnosis. The thought of dying and not remembering my family, remembering you, is something I can’t accept.

I want to leave on my terms, with the love and all the memories I have for you, for Ava, for this life I’ve been blessed to live. 

But, I’ve held on this long because my prayer has always been the same. That my days would be extended long enough to make sure you’d be okay once I’ve passed. Because I’ve never wanted to leave you alone. 

And now I don’t have to, because you have Solana.

She is the one I’ve been praying for. The one to make sure I don’t have to leave you alone in this cold world.

She’s your soulmate, Roman. In every sense of the word. You must stay with her, no matter what. Do not push her away. You need her just as much as she needs you. You’re especially going to need her when I’m gone. 

But not just her. 

Roman, I am going to ask something of you that I know you’re not going to like, but I really don’t care, because it’s what you need.

You need to establish a relationship with your brother. I know that’s always been a sensitive subject for you, no thanks to that mother of yours, but true family is everything. We were not meant to be alone in this world. 

You need more than just Solana. 

We lost so much, yes, but with Matteo, there is hope. I know there is a lot of pain and hurt and rejection there, but both of you were victims of the politics in this life we live. 

You need Solana, but you need your brother, too.

It is my dying wish that you try to form some kind of relationship with him.

I am leaving you something in return though. There is a key included in this envelope. I'm sure your perceptive ass has seen it already. In the GREEN trunk in my closet, NOT the blue one, trust me—you don’t wanna know what’s in there—you’ll find a stack of letters I wrote to you all those years we were separated. And beyond. Life lessons. Silly shit. Reflecting on good times. All of the things. Something you’ll always have from me.

This is actually my last letter I will write to you, and it’s to say goodbye. 

Roman, know that I am sad to go. Sad that I will not be around to meet your children, but I have no doubt you will be an amazing father. You and Solana will break the cycle of generational dysfunction from before you. 

As I said, I am tired. It is time for me to rest, and I can finally do so knowing that you will continue to be just as loved, if not more, as I have always loved you. 

You may have been Nakoa and Viviana’s son, but you’ve always been and always will be my boy.

Love, 

Fetu

By the time Solana finishes reading, her eyes are teary and her mind is all over the place. She looks over at her quiet husband. “Roman….”

As with her letter from her mom, there is so much to process. Fetu wanting to die. Her leaving behind an abundance of letters for Roman, so he’ll always have a part of her. The part about Matteo, which is, arguably, the most shocking section for her.

She thought Roman and the man resembled each other in an almost uncanny way, but she could have never guessed that they were brothers. 

So, not only does she have a brother she didn’t know about, but Roman has one he does and has known about but doesn’t claim?

He must be reading her face well, because he immediately moves into explaining that part in particular. “I’m sorry I lied to you about who Matteo is, but…..” He starts, looking off, clearly uncomfortable with this discussion but most likely knowing it needs to happen. “That’s hard for me. My mother…..our mother never tried to hide the fact that he was the son she wanted. That he…..he was the one she loved.” 

Solana’s chest tightens as she moves closer to him, placing the letter down on the coffee table and holding onto his arm. “Roman, I’m—I’m sure your mom loved you in her own way.”

He still doesn’t look at her as he calmly counters, “she loved what she thought I could do for her one day.” Solana’s confusion is short-lived as he offers further explanation. “My mother loved Matteo’s father, but he was a commoner and Turkish, so it was forbidden. But, she didn’t care, and they maintained this secret relationship that ended in a pregnancy.” Matteo. “They got found out, so my mother’s father had him tortured and killed. And my mother’s punishment was to be sent off to America and married off to my father, who she never loved.”

Solana tightens her hold on Roman’s arm, asking, “and Matteo?”

He sits up, still not looking at her but reclining further back into the sofa. “He stayed in Italy and was raised by distant relatives.” She can see the way his jaw clenches and feel the tension building in his big body. “She wanted me to eventually be the one to kill my grandfather. To make him pay for what he did to her, who he took from her. It’s why she pushed me so hard to be….what I’ve become.” He finally turns to her, turmoil and conflict written all over his face. “She loved that I could one day be her key to revenge.” 

The more Solana learns about Roman’s past and his upbringing, the more and more sense he makes. She realized this a while ago, but once again, she’s seeing just how stacked the cards were against him. 

Leaning against him, she kisses his shoulder, murmuring, “baby, I’m so sorry.”

It’s a minute before he says anything. “Matteo hasn’t….he’s never actually done anything to warrant my dislike or distrust, but acknowledging him as my brother is….hard for me.”

She can see that, and she has a good guess at to why. Because Matteo had the one thing she’d suspect Roman wanted at one point in his life, especially as a child.

His mother’s love.

With a heavy sigh, she does her best to be respectful of his boundaries while also honoring Fetu’s final wishes. “Fetu….she knew you well, Ro.” He swallows, hand moving to her knee. “And I think…..I think she was right to encourage you to develop a relationship with Matteo.” He looks toward her, Solana going to clarify. “In your own timing, of course, but I do—I do think you should at least try.”

The eye contact is short-lived, as he looks away, Solana opting to give him a bit of a respite. She moves her hand atop his, sharing, “we should go get the trunk tomorrow.” His gaze falls on her once more. “Those letters she left you….they need to be here. In our home. With you.”

Specifically in the library he created just for her. A shared space. Their space.

Roman doesn’t say anything, just nods, clearly still feeling a myriad of emotions. She just moves even closer to him, continuing to hold onto him, mumbling an “I love you” followed up with and, “we’re going to get through this.”

Because, they will. 

She’s going to make sure of it. 

Because she loves him too much for them not to.

Because, as Fetu said, they’re soulmates. 

————

It takes some convincing, but Solana is eventually able to talk her husband into an outing. An essential one, given it’s a grocery trip, but a trip, nonetheless.

She can tell it’d be beneficial for him to get out the house. 

Upon arriving, Solana thought the parking lot was pretty empty outside of a few black SUV’s that she recognizes to be Bloodline. Security. However, it’s not until they’re actually inside the grocery that she realizes how much of a ghost town the place really is.

As Roman pulls out the cart for her, Solana asks, “where is everyone?”

To which he answers so simply, “I had it closed off for us.” She accepts the cart, placing her purse down in the kid’s seat. “Bloodline only.”

Ahh. That would definitely explain it. “Roman, was that—was that really necessary?”

“Sure was.” He doesn’t even need to think about her question. 

Sighing, she tries from a different angle. “I–I go grocery shopping all the time without it being shut down.” With her security detail, of course, but that’s always been more than enough to help her get there and back without issue.

“That was before.” He doesn’t need to add on the noun, the pregnancy component. “This is now.” She sighs and begins to lead the way, as he adds, “besides, you know I don’t like being around people.” Rolling her eyes, a small smile falls on her face when he’s behind her, arms around her waist, face nuzzled in the side of her neck, “except for one….”

“I’ve noticed,” she giggles, stealing a kiss on his cheek before redirecting them. “Okay, come on.” Solana digs in her purse and pulls out her phone, unlocking it and opening the notes app where she completed her grocery list shortly before they left the house. Handing him the phone, she instructs, “read these off for me, so we don’t forget anything.”

Back at her side, a scowl falls on his face as he uses his finger to scroll through said list. “Solana, how much food are you getting?” 

Solana turns to him, one hand on her hip. “Ro, do you have any idea how much you eat?” And, of course, he looks at her with his brow lifted, evoking a blush from her. “You know what I mean.” Clearing her throat, she explains, “between you, Jimmy, and Jey—”

“Don’t worry about them,” he interrupts, expression and voice hardening. “They don’t need to be over at the house anymore. At least, not for a while.”

Solana frowns, extending her hand to stop them from walking. Turning to him, she asks straight up, “Ro, what’s going on between ya’ll?” Before he can protest, she reminds, “we promised we were going to be honest with each other.”

He’s quiet, Solana seeing her reminder stir something in him. With a reluctant sigh, he responds, “when I confronted Rikishi for how he acted with you, they were there, and it….it was ugly.”

“How ugly?”

Forever perceptive with her husband and all his tell-tales, Solana doesn’t miss the anger—and hurt—that flashes in his eyes. “Jey and Solo took his dad’s side. Jimmy seemed more unbiased, but that’s still his brother. And Jey and I still haven’t been….fine….since your party.”

She winces. A hurtful reminder of that awful turn in events. “Roman, I really am sorry for that. If I had known things were bad between Jey and Sami—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Sol.” Roman sighs, mouth shifting as he continues to share, “my relationship with Jey…..it’s complicated. It always has been.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip. “I know….I know he challenged you a lot when you guys were younger, that—that he challenged you for the ula fala at some point.” Roman looks, understandably, surprised by her knowledge. He doesn’t inquire as to how she knows, however, just continues to listen. “I know the twins get on your nerves a lot, but I also know you do value them, so it’s a bit hard for me to see….to see you all like this.”

Because, it is. Because for all the times she’s seen her husband get annoyed with his cousins, she’s also overheard and witnessed normal, friendly interactions. The three of them discussing sports, talking about their shared love of football, and even reflecting on experiences from when they were kids.

It hasn’t all been bad, which is why she’s partially appalled to see where they are right now. 

In a small voice, she adds with a slight shrug, “I guess I thought….thought your relationship was stronger than that.”

“So did I.” It pains Solana to hear the sadness brewing underneath the surface level neutrality in that response. 

Holding onto his arm, she offers an encouraging smile, “you’ll all figure it out.” 

There’s a spark of maybe hope that fades into that typical indifference. “It doesn’t matter.” She sighs, as he moves his hand to her stomach. “I don’t need them. I have you, and I’ll have them.”

“Of course, you will.” Always. “But, baby, your friends can’t just be your wife and kids.” 

“Why not?” His look of distaste at the word ‘friends’ makes her chuckle. He can be so damn stubborn. “I don’t like anybody else.”

“I’m aware,” she frowns. “What about a cl—”

“No.”

The frown deepens. Of course. Solana reaches for the pack of tortillas, tossing two in the basket. “Ro, you didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”

“Does it involve me being around people?”

An obvious answer but one she provides him, nonetheless.“Well, yes.”

“Then, I’m not interested.”

Rolling her eyes, she begins to push the cart again, prompting him to follow her. “I was going to say a photography club—”

“No.”

“Ro, you love photography.” Not to mention he’s exceptionally good. Having seen not only the shots he’s taken of her as well as sitting on his lap watching him edit, Solana can see the relaxation and enjoyment it brings him. Building upon it could be helpful.

If only he could see it that way. His dismissal is swift and to the point. “Yeah, and I hate people.”

She rubs her temples. As much as she loves this man, he can be so damn petulant. “Ro, the point—the point is to be more social. To....to make more friends.”

He's never looked so horrified and disgusted. “You say you worry about my blood pressure, but you out here trying to get me to interact with people that I hate?"

“Roman, you don’t even know them.”

“And?”

Deciding to take a risk, a big risk, a leap even, Solana is only able to get out. "What about Mat—"

"No."

Just like that. No consideration. No hesitation. Just immediately rejection.

She can't say she's surpsied.

Stopping the cart once more, she stands in front of him. “Roman….” She moves her hands to his chest, voice lowering and softening. “You know what Fetu said…..” Solana is very much aware as to the way his expression easily shifts from something hardened to something solemn. “It was…..it was her wish that you form a relationship with Matteo.” Roman looks away, prompting her to gently tug on his hoodie. “He’s your brother, Roman.”

As expected, he backs away from her, swiftly dismissing, “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Ro—”

“We can. Just….not right now, alright?” There’s believability in his voice and expression. Solana nods, understanding the importance of timing as well as him being in a place to be more receptive. Not to mention she understands entirely the difficulty he’s facing.

Cause she’s dealing with the same thing.

They continue to move through the aisles, but instead of Roman simply reading off and allowing her to grab said items, he, of course, handles both tasks, thus delegating his wife to simply pushing the basket. 

The reason?

“Too much movement for you.”

Rubbing her temples, Solana finds herself unable to take it anymore when he reaches for the six pack of yogurt before she can. Looking up at him as they walk, she vents. “Roman, I love you, but this is getting ridiculous. They’re groceries, not—”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Solana looks away from her husband in favor of whatever he’s now looking at with disgust. 

“Matteo.”

Because, sure enough, there stands her husband’s older, half brother next to a beautiful woman with a deep complexion, soft features and black box braids that cascade down her back. She’s also pushing the basket as the two of them now stand across from Solana and Roman.

Matteo’s facial expression is neutral as he acknowledges her, “Solana.” His gaze then shifts to Roman, to whom he gives a small nod. “Roman.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Roman!” Solana whispers harshly, tugging on Roman’s hoodie sleeve.

Matteo scoffs. “I could ask you the same.”

“Matteo!” The other woman scolds, shaking her head and focusing on Solana with a kind smile. “Solana? Roman’s wife, correct?” She walks over, extending her hand. “I’m Afia. Matteo’s wife.”

For some reason, Solana didn’t even think about the fact that Matteo could have a whole wife. Let alone a wife who’s in the states with him while he works.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Solana greets, accepting the handshake. She then gestures to her still scowling husband. “We were just getting some groceries.”

“Same,” Afia chuckles, also motioning to her husband who’s also scowling at Roman. Solana has a hard time not thinking about how much they resemble each other in this moment. “This one hates when we’re interrupted.”

“How you think we feel?” 

Solana sighs. “Roman, please.” Her husband can be so damn petty sometimes. 

“Trust me, when the guards said Bloodline only, I was thinking it would just be your wife, not you,” Matteo suddenly comments, partially glaring at Roman. For a second, Solana is taken back by his demeanor. The last time she encountered him, he was a lot more approachable and gregarious. However, she quickly reminds herself of what Afia just told her. 

“This one hates when we’re interrupted.”

It seems Roman and his brother have more in common than just looks. They both hate having one-on-one time with their wives disturbed. 

Afia then asks, “Do you shop here a lot?”

Solana nods. "I do."

“Oh, good.” Afia shakes her head, pulling out her phone and moving closer to share her screen. “I’m Nigerian, so I make a lot of Nigerian food, but I’m having a hard time finding some of the ingredients.”

Solana shakes her head, explaining, “some things are arranged kinda weird around here. What are you looking for? I’m sure I can help.”

Afia makes a face. Filled with appreciation. “That would be wonderful.” She scrolls a bit, Solana gasping when she sees the photo of the food. 

“That looks delicious,” Solana smiles, hand naturally moving to her stomach.

Afia returns the smile. “It is. It’s called Afang soup.” She gestures to her husband with a light chuckle. “This one doesn’t really care for soup, but the kids love it.”

Matteo continues to scowl, partially defending himself. “Soup does nothing to abate my appetite.”

Solana giggles, also pointing to Roman. “He doesn’t really like soup that much either.”

And like his brother, Roman argues, “because I end up being hungry again an hour later.”

Solana opts not to comment on her husband and instead focuses on something that Afia said. “You….you guys have kids?”

Her smile could light up all of New York and then some. Hitting the side of the phone to lock it and then unlock it reveals Afia's lock screen photo which depicts three, smiling young faces. Two boys, obviously twins, no more than 5 and a little girl who can’t be more than two.

Solana gasps, briefly overcome with emotion. Roman has a niece and two nephews. 

A family.

“They’re beautiful,” she comments, trying her best not to cause too much of a scene, not only because of where they stand but because of the two men who are only a few feet away. 

But maybe, just maybe, she could find time outside of a random run-in to talk with Afia. To have a sit-down and figure out if they can maybe work together to build a relationship between their husbands. 

Work together as sister-in-laws.

Clearing her throat, Solana pulls out her phone, starting to ask, “can I get your num—”

“Oh, hey!”

Four sets of eyes fall on the newest person to walk in on this impromptu meeting, Afia looking skeptical, Roman and Matteo irritated, and only Solana to reciprocate the kind introduction. 

“Sami,” she smiles. “Good to see you.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Matteo gestures to Sami but directs his question toward Roman.

Roman, who is running his hand over his face, answers in a low voice, “a pain in my fucking ass.” Raising the volume, he asks with all the irritation, “Sami, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Solana rolls her eyes, as Sami stammers with a response, “just picking up some groceries, TC.” Roman scowls, mouthing ‘TC’ with all the confusion as Sami says with a chuckle, "surprising my wife tonight by cooking dinner for her.”

Afia gasps. “What a sweet thing to do.” She playfully cuts her eyes at her husband. “Did you hear that, my love? He’s cooking for his wife.”

“And?” Matteo is unimpressed. “I’m supposed to take advice from a homeless man?”

Solana jumps in, not wanting Sami to feel bad, though she’s partially stunned at just how much Roman and his brother are like. 

“What are you making?” She asks. This is the first time she's seen the man since her welcome home party, and while a part of her feels a bit guilty about unintentionally putting him in that situation. There's just a kind aura about Sami that makes her want to bypass any awkwardness that conversation could bring and proceed with the pleasantries.

“Shawarma,” he answers with a proud smile.

Solana's jaw drops. “Really? I’ve always wanted to make that.”

“Me too,” Afia gasps. “Do you have a recipe you’d be willing to share?” She then offers her hand, “I’m Afia, by the way. Matteo's wife.”

Sami’s grin widens, accepting the handshake and offering his name as well. “Sami Zayn. Super nice to meet you.” He crosses his arms, offering, “You bet I do. A lot of them, actually, if you guys are interested.”

“Sami, I didn’t know you cooked like that.” Because, for some reason, Solana can’t picture the man before her knowing his way around a kitchen. Looks truly can be deceiving, though.

“I surely do,” he says it with so much pride. “I’m Syrian, so a lot of the food I make is Middle Eastern.”

Afia makes a sound of almost awe. “Oh, I love Middle Eastern food, but making some of those meals is always a bit of a challenge.”

Solana nods, agreeing, “especially with finding some of the ingredients.”

Sami makes a face, asking, “have either of you been to the international food market on 54th and Granite?”

Afia shakes her head, explaining, “my family and I are here….short-term, so we haven’t been a lot of places, to be honest.”

Solana tries to not think too much about the fact that her time to work with Afia to help Roman and Matteo may be limited. She just continues to focus on the conversation at hand. “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

Sami makes a sound, head temporarily thrown back. “You two absolutely have to go. I’ll be honest, I get most of poultry from there.” He leans forward, whispering almost. “A lot more lean. Less fat to cut.”

“Really?” 

“Yup!”

He then offers, “you know I would be more than happy to escort you both. I mean, my uncle Louis works there, so you could get the family discount as well.”

Afia giggles softly. “That is so sweet of you.”

“I would love that so much,” Solana chimes, directing her comment to the both of them, “we should exchange recipes or something. I’m half Mexican, so I make a lot of Mexican food.”

Sami places his hand over his stomach. “You two are making me hungry already.”

As the three exchange laughter, Roma finds himself unable to stand patient and quiet as his suddenly social butterfly of a wife trades pleasantries with a woman she just met and fucking Sami.

“Sol—”

“Roman,” Solana practically whines briefly, informing in a more assertive voice, “I’m talking.”

And as she turns her attention from her husband and back to the conversation at hand, an equally annoyed Matteo attempts to get his wife’s attention as well. 

“Fia—”

Afia, however, waves him off, muttering something in Italian as she too proceeds to be dismissive. 

Matteo is the first to say it, the other three completely immersed in their culinary conversations. “I don’t fucking like him.”

Roman looks over at the other man, not exactly disagreeing but also not wanting to engage with him, either. 

There’s a brief moment of silence that overcomes them, one that Matteo is the one to break.

“How are you doing?”

More forced social interaction. Even worse, a valid but irritating question. That doesn’t mean Roman has to answer it. Directly, at least.

Rolling his shoulders, he answers in a gruff voice, “fine until you and your damn wife interrupted us.”

Matteo makes a sound and rolls his eyes. “Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.”

And on some level, Roman knows this. Understands this. But, it's the combination of the letter, Solana being slightly on him about Matteo, fucking Matteo standing a few feet away from him that feels like too much.

Way too much.

Roman clears his throat and makes a comment about needing to make a call.

He doesn't really need to.

He just needs to get away, needs to not have to deal with this right now.

Or ever, preferably.

Though no longer an option.

If only.

————

After exchanging contact information, Solana is finally pulled away by her husband, who cites them being away from their dog too long as a reason to finish shopping so that they can leave.

An excuse that makes her smile, but an effective one, nonetheless.

The two arrive home, and Solan is able to fix dinner for herself and Roman, the two sharing a meal together, Dulce begging for scraps, Roman eventually relenting not to the human food but some fancy dog snacks that apparently Jimmy started feeding Dulce.

There's even brief conversation about the unexpected run-in. One that goes better than expected.

It’s a nice calm before a potential storm. 

Because a few hours later, Solana is sitting in the middle of their bed, letter in hand when Roman walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered and clean. Right away, his eyes settle on the papers, expression softening.

“Solana, we don’t have to—”

“Yes, we do,” she interrupts, voice light but firm. “We said we’d start being honest with each other. You let me read Fetu’s letter. It’s only fair I let you read this. I—I want—I need you to.”

Her words seem to alleviate the sense of unease he feels at potentially “invading” her privacy. But, there is no privacy in this situation, because not only have the contents changed her life, in so many ways.

It’s about to change their lives in many ways.

Roman moves to sit on the side of the bed, Solana handing the letter to him, only asking, “can you not read it aloud?”

He nods, accepting them and the request. “Of course.”

She can only offer him a small smile before she watches him unfold the letter and begin to read, starting off the longest patch of time she’s ever experienced. It’s like the sound of big ticking playing and taunting her, seconds stretching into minutes that feel like hours. 

So many of the initial thoughts and feelings return, and before she realizes it, her eyes are watering. 

“Holy shit….” is Roman’s only comment as he finishes his read, Solana chuckling bitterly. 

“That—that’s what I said,” she whispers, eyes closing. “He wasn’t my father.” The lump in the back of her throat thickens as she murmurs, “Paloma is…..she’s my grandmother.”

Roman looks off at the wall, eyes slightly wide as he shakes his head. “That’s why your mother always talked about that place. Because it was where her family was.”

“Where my family is,” she corrects, pushing back some of her hair, eyes misting all over. “I have a family.”

Roman looks at her, dots continuing to connect, “shit, that means Bayley is your cousin, right?” She nods with a small, sad smile as he looks away, muttering, “fucking Santos Escobar is your damn cousin, of course.” Catching himself, Roman apologizes, “I’m sorry.”

Her smile grows a tad bit. “It’s okay.” She appreciates the brief break from heavy emotions, albeit short, as his expression shifts into something serious.

Lifting the letter, he asks in the most sincere way, “what do you make of all of this?”

“Which part?” She asks more herself than him, rolling her still misting eyes. “I—I don’t know. It’s…it’s so much to take in, but….and this is the part I hate, I feel…..I feel angry with her.”

Roman asks in a quiet voice, “with your mom?”

Solana nods and looks away. Silence followed by an almost whispered, “I need to tell you something.” Solana is focused on the dresser instead of her husband whose eyes she can feel burning into her. “But, I never—I never want you to ask me about it again after today, because I’ve never—I’ve never told anyone, and I don’t want…..I don’t want to tell anyone or—or process it in therapy. I’ve—I’ve always to pretend it never happened. I wanted…..I wanted to die with this secret.”

Roman swallows, clearly sensing the building emotion. “Solana, you don’t—”

“He tried to rape me.”

Solana is forever grateful for not seeing the expression on her husband’s face when the words leave her mouth, because the horrified nature of his tone combined with what she’s about to share, is hard enough. “What?”

Head down, eyes closed, she starts recalling the deepest of her darkest secrets. “I was—I was sixteen, and—and Wes wasn’t home. I don’t know….I don’t know where he was, but it—it wouldn’t have made a difference either way.” Because, it truly wouldn’t have. “My d—” Solana catches herself, offering the more appropriate correction, especially given what she now knows. “Xavier came home drunk as hell. It had to have been close to 2 in the morning. I always….I always tried to stay out of his way, especially when he was drinking. And usually, if I was out of sight, I was out of mind. But….but that night, he—he came in my room.”

“Solana—”

“He started….he started rambling about things that didn’t make sense, and he—” She blows out a deep breath, pulling at the material of her shirt. “He started to call me a whore and a slut and accused me of sleeping around, which is why he said he needed to check me.” Solana wipes at her eyes, hugging herself as she whispers out, “and he did, but after, he tried—” Another pause, followed by a quiet, murmured, “he couldn’t get an erection, and I think he was too embarrassed by it, which is why he didn’t beat me. He just…..he just left.” 

Roman's voice is saturated with sympathy. “Solana….”

“That next morning was the first time I tried to kill myself.” A vacant stare and hollow voice accompany the recalling of a night of attempted, horrific, unspeakable horrors. “Because….because I’d rather be dead than have another man hurt me like that.” Finally, Solana turns to look at her husband, a mixture of so many emotions, the strongest being a rage she knows she’s can’t fully comprehend.

Rage directed toward the man whose life he took methodically, slowly, and in every painful way known to man, but none of that would and will ever be enough to justify what he did.

Especially now that Roman knows this part of her story. 

“I went through hell in that house because of her,” Solana finally allows herself to voice the truth she’s been sitting on since reading the letter. Finally frees the thoughts that she feels partially ashamed at having, though justified at feeling. “Because she wanted a daughter.” 

Roman reaches out to cup her face, clearly wanting to help comfort her. “Baby—”

“She knew how he was, Roman. Knew what he was capable of, but she still kept me with her and let—my brother, who she didn’t tell me about, go with my real father, who she also didn’t tell me about.” She speaks from the heart, hurt and anger dipping from her words. She gestures to the letter, continuing to finally break down, “and then she puts in a fucking letter that I find at almost 30 years-old, and I’m supposed to just be okay with all this?”

“Solana—”

“I hate her!”

Silence.

A sniffle. A gasp. A sob. 

Solana breaks down crying, face in her now wet palms. She’s instantly offered a slice of comfort when Roman’s strong arms wrap around her, holding her as he kisses her temple and tries to console her. 

It helps. It’s comforting, but doesn’t negate the fact that the one person she never thought she could hate or have any ill will towards has now become part of the mountain of suffering she’s endured in her life.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed. 

————

Solo’s foot taps against the floor one too many times, evoking a chuckle and comment from his perceptive father.

“Patience, son.”

Solo cuts his eyes at the older man, while stopping the foot tapping. Sitting forward, he states the obvious. “They’re late.”

This is a given, obvious by the lack of bodies present in vacant, waiting chairs. 

“Good things come to those who wait, my boy.”

Solo scoffs, tone sharp as he asserts, “I’ve waited long enough.”

Rikishi smiles. “Agreed.” 

And as if being summoned, the door opens and in enters the Elders, one by one, each taking a seat. As protocol, Solo stands and bows his head, properly acknowledging those who came before him. 

Aleki wears a bored expression. “Well?” He motions with his hand. “Why have you requested an audience with us?”

Rikishi sits forward and shares a look with his son before going over the script he’s had memorized for years. “My brothers. I asked you to meet with me and my son, Solo, today regarding some significant concerns we have about the Bloodline.”

Solo specifies, “about Roman Reigns.”

Something flashes in Aleki’s eyes before he grants permission. “Go on.”

Rikishi gives a deep, heavy, fake sigh. “As much as it pains me to say this, as I love him as if he were my own, it deeply troubles me what may happen to the Bloodline and all we’ve built if he continues to sit at the Head of The Table.”

Sione, another Elder, speaks up, “that is a bold statement to make, Rikishi.”

Solo’s father doesn’t disagree. “It is.” A firm expression, followed by, “but a true one, nonetheless.” He sits forward in his chair, continuing, “make no mistake. None of us can take away what Nakoa’s boy has done for the Bloodline, how far he’s advanced us, but I fear Roman’s previous dedication has been….compromised.”

Another Elder asks, voice sharp and to the point. “Compromised how?” 

Rikishi looks over at his son, giving him the nod to take over. Just as they rehearsed.

Ready and determined, Solo’s voice is strong as he asserts, “Roman Reigns has become so distracted and consumed by his love for his wife that it’s blinded his judgment. A wife who still hasn’t produced an heir yet seems to think she is above our ways and laws.”

“It’s true,” Rikishi adds. “Why, just the other day, I was trying to help her understand the importance of an heir, and she slapped me and told me to remember my place.”

Aleki sits forward. “What?” Anger flashes in his brown eyes and fills his aged face. “Does she not know it is forbidden to strike and speak in such way to an Elder?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rikishi calmly counters. “Because Roman justified her behavior and even attacked me, choking me, threatening to kill me just for speaking to her.”

Gasps and shocked expressions around the table as Solo fills the silence with additional information. “And that shooting a couple months ago? Solana wasn’t the target. Roman was. He was shot, but he was shot because he took the bullet for her.”

Sione gasps, narrowed gaze to Rikishi. “You told us—”

“He told ya’ll what Roman told him to tell ya’ll, and he threatened to kill him, to kill all of us, if we told the truth.” Solo answers, gaze hardening. “Roman uses and abuses his power and title to justify his and his wife’s actions that go against not only our rules and traditions, but the Bloodline as a whole.” Voice unwavering, Solo surveys the room and lifts his chin. “He is no longer fit to wear the ula fala.”

Silence

Aleki clears his throat, voice deceptively calm. “These are strong accusations you two make.”

“They can only be accusations if untrue, but I assure you, everything we’ve said is true,” Rikishi places his hand over his heart. “My son, Jey, is even willing to come and testify to what he’s seen, even more than what Solo and I have shared today.”

At that, it takes everything in Solo to not look over at his father with surprise. That wasn’t part of what they discussed. Last he heard, Jey was still on the fence when approached with the idea of talking to the Elders about Roman being removed as the Tribal Chief.

And Jimmy was straight up against it.

But despite this unexpected piece, Solo manages to remain focused on the task at hand. 

“And I hate to bring this up, but brothers…..even if Roman’s wife was to provide an heir, Roman is Afakasi. His wife is Black and Mexican. What true Samoan blood will run through that child’s vein?” Rikishi challenges, shaking his head. “I fear Nakoa’s taking an outsider as a wife may have strengthened us at the time, but now, it will lead to our erasure.”

Another Elder points out, “we have decided to give Roman until the end of the year to—”

“That won’t work,” Solo reiterates. “You all don’t understand. Roman is not the man he used to be. His obsession with his wife is limitless. He’ll kill every single person in this room before he allows anyone to interfere with his marriage. He is dangerous. And not just to our enemies anymore.” Solo's voice darkens once more as they arrive at the climax of said script. “There’s only one way we can fix this problem.”

Another blanket of silence that extends longer than the last episode.

Aleki is quieter than before, tone chilly, “what exactly are you two proposing?”

Rikishi is the one to announce the ultimate goal, the key to making his longtime plan come to fruition. “Roman Reigns needs to be eliminated.” He surveys the face of his brothers, asserting, “We either kill him or he kills us. There is no other way.”

He then turns to Solo, hand on his shoulder, “and in his place, my son, Solo, who, at one point, served as Roman’s personal enforcer. Before Roman delegated him to being that bodyguard of his wife.” He then adds, for good measure, “Solo, who also already has four sons who are already in training to serve the Bloodline.”

More silence as someone brings up a prior, similar incident. “Rikishi, didn’t one of your sons already attempt to take the ula fala from Reings?”

“I’m not my brother,” Solo reminds, gaze around the room. “Jey failed. I won’t.”

Something appears in Aleki’s eyes, similar to excitement. He clears his throat, announcing, “you know we have protocols and traditions in situations like this, none of which are being proposed, thus we cannot approve such a coup.”

“We don’t need you to,” Rikishi informs. “We will only need you to approve and bless Solo wearing the ula fala and being our new Tribal Chief when the time comes.”

More silence. This lasting the longest before the older men share looks of unspoken conversation amongst themselves, eventually standing as Aleki shares, “we will take your…request into consideration.”

Solo bows while Rikishi simply nods. “Thank you, my brothers.”

Not another word is shared until the room is emptied of the majority of the Elders, leaving just father and son. 

Solo is quick to sigh, running his hand over his face. “I don’t think it went well.”

Rikishi, however, simply smiles. “It went perfect.” Seeing the confusion on his son’s face, he explains, “Roman has shot himself in the foot with his disrespect over the years towards the Elders. They’re just as eager for that son of a bitch to be put down as we are.” He places a hand on Solo’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my boy. By the end of the year, it will be you who sits at the Head of the Table.”

At that, Solo looks up, proud and determined. “Thank you, tamā.” 

And once again, fate is on their side, cards continuing to fall right in place. Rikishi pulls out his ringing phone, smirking when he sees who the requested video is from. He instructs Solo to cast it to the flat screen TV mounted on the wall, said screen filling with a now familiar face.

“Well?” Luca’s deep, accented voice is thick with irritation and impatience. “How did it go?”

“Just as we needed it too,” Rikishi is the one to answer. “I have very little doubt that they will in any way object to Solo’s ascension.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Luca Rossi is many things: cold, unfeeling, ruthless and so many more. All of which are reflected in the disgust in his voice. “The only thing I care about is Roman Reigns head on a fucking platter, so that I can have my rightful place as Capo di tutti capi.”

A smug Solo doesn’t hesitate to point out, “wasn’t he just in Italy? Why didn’t you make the killshot then?”

Luca growls something in Italian. “Because you people failed to inform me of his visit, as was our agreement. Not to mention that damn Dwayne worked hard to get him in and out.” The mutual disdain for the Tribal Chief and Capo’s second-in-command is certainly a shared thing among the three men. “And let us not forget I have been working for months here to create unrest to draw him out. You said he would come shortly after his wedding.”

“Things changed,” Rikishi shrugs, recognizing there is a hint of truth to what the man is saying. “It doesn’t matter though. The time is finally nearing.”

Luca's expression and voice are filled with skepticism. “Are Dwayne and Matteo still there?”

Solo, partially confused, is the one to answer. “Yeah. Why?”

Luca curses quietly. “Be careful with them. They both hold undying loyalty to my cousin. Neither should be underestimated, especially Matteo. He is just as brutal and sadistic as his brother. He just hides behind that charismatic personality. So is Dwayne. Not to mention the wild card the opo will play.”

Rikishi frowns. “Opo?”

“Matteo’s wife.” Luca scowls. “A former master assassin with a kill count that could probably rival any of your best men. Her codename was Opo, and that bitch has taken out the best of the best. Retired when she fell in love with an assignment.”

Solo puts two and two together, guessing aloud. “Matteo?”

Luca nods, eyes traveling elsewhere as he plays out different scenarios. “You seem sure of this plan, but know this, you’re in for one hell of a fight should Dwayne, Matteo, and even the opo decide to stand with Roman.” 

The words go in one ear and out the other for both the father and son duo. They’ve worked too hard and too long to not be fully prepared to go to war, should it reach that point. They didn’t create the alliances and recruit the participants they did for no reason. 

Luca’s eyes twinkle with mischief and disdain. “And as a friendly reminder, the minute my cousin takes his last breath, this background partnership as well as the alliance between the Bloodline and the Cosa Nostra is over with.” He sneers, vowing, “our people will never be on the same side again.”

Solo scoffs, gaze just as dark as Luca’s eyes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And with that, the screen goes blank. Solo doesn’t hesitate to murmur, “fucking hate him.”

“So do I, but he’s served a purpose,” is Rikishi’s only comment as the two walk out of the room, eventually exiting the building and entering the limo waiting for them.

Across the seat, a hard set of brown eyes land on them. “Well?”

Rikishi smirks, buckling his seatbelt and answering with a proud smile, “it’s all going to plan.” He and Solo share knowing smirks, before he asks in a hardened voice, “is it ready?”

Nia’s smile is sinister and malicious as she lifts the phone. Tapping on the screen, “Solana’s” voice fills the car.

“Brandi? It’s me, Solana. I need you to meet me at the library this afternoon. Bring Emma, too. I can’t say why, but you just have to trust me. Please! I think you guys are in danger. I’ll be waiting for you.” 

As the audio ends, Rikishi laughs, proudly. “Excellent.” Looking out the window, he says mostly to himself, “Finally, the last of Nakoa’s bloodline will be gone for good.” An evil, pleased smile falls upon his rotund face. “I can finally finish what I started almost 30 years ago.”

[katz-rambles]

hey 💞

I love your work!!! Could I please request something sweet, with Sevika from Arcane?

thanks so much, keep up the great work!

I LOVE SEVIKA!! MY WIFE!

Tysm anon!! I'm so glad you like my writing, it means so much to me!!

THIS GIF IS DOING THINGS TO ME GOOD LORD SHES SO FINE

(fluff, fem!reader, it gets steamy at the end, but nothing is described, Sevika is a smoker (I'm a smoker), so reader smokes as well, I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

You're sitting on Sevikas lap, your head buried in her neck, and her mechanical arm wrapped around you. It's calm, as she's gambling. Every now and then you look over to see how she's doing, you know she'd never lose but it still provides a form of entertainment.

You heat her chuckle and lay her cards down and you see the colour drain from the man's face as he sees that he's lost once more. “Pay up.” She smirks, glaring at him, as he pushes his chips towards her. She grabs her cigarette from the holder and takes a deep inhale of it, blowing the smoke away from your face and then offering you a drag, which you gladly accept, and flick the ash into the tray. The man scowls at Sevika and she laughs, “what? If you want your money back, you've gotta be better.” She clicks her tongue and pulls you closer to her, you wrap your arms around her neck and shuffle so you're sitting sideways and can see the man's expressions, he's glaring at her as he takes a big swig of his beer. He sighs and stands up, leaving with his tail in between his legs. “You see, pretty girl, some people just don't know how to play.” Sevika scoffs into your ear, her voice low and it sends shivers down your spine, when she places a kiss to the curve of your shoulder you lean into her.

She offers you another drag of her still burning cigarette and you take it from her, noticing the way she stares at your lips when you take the drag. She leans down and connects her lips with yours, taking the smoke and inhaling it. Soon after another two sit down in front of you two, one of them placing down a glass of, what looks to be, whisky.

Sevika grabs the cards and shuffles them, dealing them evenly and smirking. Then the game starts, you're watching intently, taking in their expressions. The man on the right has an amazing poker face, you almost weren't able to read it. The guy on the left, not so much, he kept a flat face but his eyes told too much. You bring your head back up to one of Sevikas shoulders and whisper, “neither of them got good cards.. you should be able to win easily.” She smirks and tightens her grip on your waist at your words. The cold and harsh metal of her arm shocks you when it meets your bare skin, one of the metal fingers just barely slipped under the hem of your shirt. You grab the cigarette and take a bigger drag than last time, blowing the smoke towards the two men and smirking when you hear one of them cough and wave his hand in front of his face. You can taste the tobacco clinging to your teeth.

“Well, one of you has to hurry and do something.” She scoffs and leans back in the chair. Clicking her tongue to hurry them up.

The game goes by quite quickly, and just as you suspected, neither of them had very good cards. By the end, they both look pale. They've almost lost all their chips. Soon after, the game ended, and not surprisingly at all, Sevika won. She shoos them both away and leans down to your ear, “thank you, baby.” She kisses the shell of your ear and then pulls back. She takes one last drag of the cigarette and then gives the rest of it to you.

You stand up off her lap, and she gets up. You wait at the bar while she goes to collect the money she won. When she's finished, she grabs your hand and gently pulls you along. The humid air of the under-city immediately hits you, suddenly wanting to go back to the comfortable temperature of The Last Drop. The walk to your apartment isn't long, and you live in a slightly, better part of the under-city. So you don't even think of complaining about it, plus, from your apartment, you have an, almost, clear view of the sky.

You grab your keys and open the door, letting Sevika step inside before you. She shrugs off her cloak and hangs it up by the door. She goes into the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water, tossing you one of them. You both sit down on the couch, you lean into her, and she wraps her arm around you. It's one of the moments where Sevika is really Sevika and not one of the most feared people of the under-city. She lets you see a side of her no one else has the privilege of seeing.

The silence isn't an awkward one that seems to hang in the air. Instead, it's a calm and comforting one, where you two just enjoy each other's company. “I had a nice evening,” you smile up at her, breaking the silence, and she pets your hair, and you speak up again, "did you?” She chuckles at your question and kisses your forehead. Her lips linger for a few seconds before she actually pulls away from you. “Any time I spend with you is a good time.” She teases, laughing when she sees your flustered expression. She pulls you up into her lap and kisses your lips, you can taste the tobacco from her cigarette, a bitterness of the beer she had drank before she went over to gamble, and a slight twinge of blood. Probably, one of the guys didn't want to pay up.

“I love you so much, my pretty girl.” Sevika mumbles in between kisses, and you can feel her lips curl into a smile when you kiss her again. “I love you, too.” You say back, kissing her once again. She rests her hands on your waist and traces strange figures and shapes into your skin. The coolness of the metal makes you squeak, and she laughs when you pull away from her lips. When you look up and out the window, you can see the stars shining, contrasting to the dark sky. It's a little difficult to see them from the haze that the under-city has, but it's a sight both you and Sevika enjoy, so you point it out, and she turns.

“Starlight,” you say, breaking the silence once more. “Hmm?” Sevika looks over at you, one eyebrow cooked. “You have pet names you call me, so that's what I'm calling you. Starlight.” You continue, and she smiles at you and kisses you once again. “I like that.” She sighs as she kisses you. She pushes you down onto the couch, and this time, it's your turn to laugh. You gently push her up and smirk at her. “Why don't we take this to the bedroom? I'm sure it would be more comfortable that way.”

[nozomisumino]

Personally Nana is a manga i feel you need an understanding of sapphic women's struggles to be able to read through the context and intention of the characters and their issues. Primarily the two Nana's.

Nana Osaki has a discomfort around the idea of traditional feminine roles and what's 'expected' from her as a woman. The main reason she feels her relationship with Ren doesn't and won't work long term is he's fixated on wanting to have children with her.

However for Nana this'd get in the way of her desired career as a singer and also her future. She deems becoming a housewife and having to provide only for a man as 'the worst fate imaginable'. This is the main reason for conflict with her relationship with Ren.

While Ren isn't abusive in the same way as Takumi he does force Nana into doing things she doesn't feel comfortable with nor want to do. It's because of this that her relationship with Ren is so toxic for the both of them.

On Hachi's side, most of her issues seem to revolve around a clear case of comphet and struggling with her feelings for the women in her life. Hachi desires what Nana least desires (becoming married, having kids etc.) however romance with men is painful and isolating for her.

Hachi's first relationship being with Asano, where she was groomed while she was still a minor ruined her perception of how relationships should be. She only started dating Shouji after he guilt trips her into a relationship (and sex).

Hachi constantly states wanting a friendship with Shouji and how much it means to her however she starts dating because everyone around her acts like she's leading him on. So she dates him, then Shouji gets mad she doesn't act how HE wants her to act.

Shouji literally cheats on Hachi with Sachiko because she wouldn't just sleep with him all the time whenever he wanted. Hachi wasn't 'submissive' enough, Sachiko was.

Then on Hachi's part her 'liking' of Takumi was only in a way of how girls idolise a celebrity. There's no genuineness behind this because there's a fictional distance between you and them. Once Hachi actually meets Takumi she notices there's something wrong.

Hachi only got with Takumi because she was feeling abandoned and left behind by Nana who started focusing more on her career. Her entire relationship with Takumi is a cycle of abuse on making her think she needs him while he's aware she doesn't actually love him.

Takumi doesn't love Hachi, he only loves the amount of control he has over her. He literally treats her like his dog and both Nana and Hachi are aware of this. However it's not easy to break out of an abusive relationship just because you're aware.

Especially since with Takumi Hachi is able to have a child, which is something she's wanted since she was young. Obviously she doesn't love Takumi but on her mind, someone who never had a clear idea or desire for the future. It's the only thing she can do.

Especially since from her pov 'Nana doesn't need me anymore'. I'm not saying everyone needs to read the characters in a sapphic pov but none of the relationships they end up in are healthy for either of them, they both have men forcing their desires onto them.

Nana and Hachi's love for one another is the focus of the series and if it ever continued they'd definitely develop their relationship further. There's a sense of freedom in their love for one another that they can't get with men.

To conclude, Hachi has clear symptoms of comphet and she is likely a lesbian but struggles with seeing her feelings as valid. Where on Nana's side she can't achieve what she wants to achieve in life if she's dating a man because they'll always have different life desires.

[ultravi0lence14]

WHEN ANGEL FALLS (IN LOVE)

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.9k | fluff, hurt/comfort, szn nine

summary: as dean withers away in the confines of his room, waiting for his angel to say she loves him back, the girl who stole his heart sits in her own, wondering if the man who showed her hate at the beginning of their story is worth her love.

WHEN ANGEL FALLS IN LOVE

the few small feet between yours and dean’s room felt like miles, the clocks ticking by as the bright blue of the morning dipped into a solemn teal of the afternoon. your day was spent wondering, thinking all things dean winchester.

it was all so new; these feelings, having a choice. you didn’t have one in heaven, always following orders by some higher power. so now, being able to decide your own future was overwhelming.

though choosing was a mental battle in your brain, and everything seemed to go back to the moment you and dean shared in the kitchen the night prior. you saw the good in dean, you really did, but he also had baggage, trauma that plagued his mind and took control of his life. you didn’t know if that was something you were ready to endure, something you knew how to handle.

but the hurt in his eyes, the true sorrow that became aglow from the dim kitchen lights. dean was a man who was riddled with trauma, someone who let his past troubles weigh on him like a smouldering heat.

dean was somebody who instead of letting himself live with what happened to him as a kid, he let it fester in his soul. growing ugly and green, allowing it to retract teeth and bite at anyone who tried to come in.

you realized now that you wanted to break those barriers, you wanted to let those gnarly teeth snip at you sometimes; because dean winchester was worth fighting for, and saving him, showing him that he was capable to love and be loved would be the greatest achievement in all the years you’ve lived throughout.

that mean, cruel hunter dean showed the rest of the world didn’t scare you. yeah, when you two first met he was a jackass. but as you thought in the kitchen, it was just a facade he used to hide away the scared little boy who just wanted to be cared for.

the rest of your day was spent hallowed in your room, the minutes on the clock slowly moving by as you anticipated the approach of 12am. would dean even show up to your room? during your trials and tribulations, was he in his room realizing how silly you were? and that he didn’t want to settle with a stupid girl like you?

it was all so maddening, and when the clock struck 12am, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. he wasn’t going to come, you knew that much. if you still had your wings, you knew for a fact they’d be curled around you right now, providing you comfort against the rocky currents of your brain.

when a tentative rap of knuckles against wood graced your ears at exactly 12:02am, you felt bile lurching up your throat. you knew your answer, that wasn’t the issue. but did dean know his?

admittedly, dean had been worrying the entire day too. his leg couldn’t stop bouncing as he sat hunched on his bed, eyes languid as they stared at his blank wall for hours and hours.

he trusted you, more than he probably should’ve, but allowing yourself time to think made dean wonder if the trust was one sided. could you really see past all the blockades and walls he put up? thorns that pricked at your skin when you tried to enter? it was a hell on earth for dean, and he had to stop himself from running over to your room and beg you for his love more times than he would like to admit.

the confines of his heart clenched as he heard shuffles of feet beyond the door, a testament to the future that laid beyond the crumbling wood. when you opened the door, dean swore he was seeing you for the first time; hauntingly beautiful, the throws of earth and wonder clutching onto your skin.

the soft ringlets that flowed around you like a halo had dean mesmerized, assuming you’d put some type of curlers in your hair during the day. your face was barren, a beautiful, fresh canvas that dean wanted to paint in his love, decorating your skin with his kisses.

a satin, night gown flowed down your shoulders, leaving dean to believe you truly came out of his dreams. a beauty, possibly god’s best creation, and dean was about to find out if you were going to be his or not.

he must’ve been staring too long, for the faint blush that danced across your cheeks looked like a blooming rose on the spring solstice. you opened your door a little wider, breathing a small, ‘hi dean’ that the man in question didn’t even hear. he was to busy admiring the vision in front of him.

the pinks and pastels of your room swam around him like a void, reminding dean that he was in your territory now. whatever you said goes, and dean had no say in it whatsoever.

his sock clad feet slipped a little as he moved to sit on your bed, frilly sheets scrunching beneath him as he stared up at your looming frame. you stood stagnant by the door, hands around your body like you could disappear at any moment.

“so,” dean breathed awkwardly, a cough leaving his lips as he mentally beat himself up for the awkward moment he just brought forth. “have you come to your verdict, angel?”

straight to the point. you didn’t know if you liked that about him or it terrified you in this situation. though in the moment, you couldn’t help but let the flood gate of all your thoughts open, allowing yourself to fully bare your soul to dean winchester.

“you’re not a bad man, dean winchester,” you watched as his eyes widened, watching as you walked a little ways closer to where he sat on your bed. “but you believe you are. you let what happened to you as a child get the best of you, allow how you were raised and all the messed up shit that came after it to define you.”

as harsh as the words were, dean understood that he needed to hear it. he also understood that as an angel, you probably didn’t know how blunt you were being.

“because of all that, you build up walls, and you push people away.” tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you awkwardly wrung your fingers together as you spoke your next words. “you pushed me away, dean.”

shaking his head, dean attempted to stand up, wanting to reach out to you in comfort and tell you how sorry he was. “i know angel, and i’m so-“

“i’m not finished.” you spoke softly, lightly pushing him back down on the bed. you bent down yourself, lowering your body until you were in dean’s lap. you could see the shock in his eyes, but his hands immediately went to your waist, holding you steady so you’d didn’t fall.

“you pushed me away dean,” your hands carded through his hair, moving them down so you could cup his cheeks. dean immediately leant into your touch, eyes half lidded in content. “but you don’t need to do that. you put up these walls, allow yourself to believe that everyone is out to get you. but i’m not. i’m here for you dean, i always will be.”

watching as dean turned his head to kiss your palm, his brilliant green eyes flashed as his lids opened, vibrant and now full of life. “please tell me you mean that.” he breathed, voice soft in disbelief. “please tell me this isn’t some joke. that after all i did to you, you would still want to give me a chance.”

smiling, you leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “you deserve all the chances i’m willing to give, dean.”

you’ve never seen a smile so bright, like pure sunlight bathing your room. it was beautiful, and as dean leaned in to hug you, burying his face in your neck, you could feel it tickle against your skin.

as dean moved his face in front of yours, preparing to lean in to deliver a kiss on your lips, you stopped him with your finger on his own, a joking smile on your lips. “ahh ahh, winchester,” you breathed, hand moving to lightly tap his cheek. “not so fast. you were really mean to me when we first met. so if you want to kiss me, i want you to get on your knees and beg for it.”

his lips parted in disbelief, eyes locking with yours as he gaged the expression in your eyes. “you can’t be serious?”

dean honestly had no idea where you got that from. a movie you watched, some video that came across your computer, dean didn’t know. but as you swung your legs off of his lap, standing a few feet in front of him with your arms crossed in front of your chest, he knew you were being serious.

“tick tock, dean,” you teased, foot tapping on the ground in joking impatience. “i don’t know how bad you’re wanting to kiss me, but i could wait here all day.”

that was a lie. both you and dean knew it as such. but dean liked this side of you; the joking and less serious version that’s smile grew so big it crinkled your eyes. so with a mischievous smirk on his lips, dean slid of the bed and fell to his knees, arms going around your waist and chin resting on your stomach.

you placed your hands in his hair, melting under his gaze as those damn green eyes stared up at you through thick lashes.

“sweet girl, i am so sorry for how i treated you. please, find it in your heart to forgive me.” the smile on his lips was joking, a smirk that matched your own grin. though you could still here some truth in his words.

letting a giggle rip through your lips, you ruffled his hair a bit, watching as his smile widened with yours. “okay, okay. get up here you goof, and kiss me before i change my mind.”

dean didn’t have to be told twice. with such speed you almost got knocked over if it wasn’t for hands clutching your waist, dean stood up and pressed his lips to yours. his hands were on your waist, holding you upright with one of them snaking up your back.

the kiss was passionate, a testament to all the feelings you two kept covered. dean’s lips covered yours with no remorse, a soft yet relenting pressure that had you seeing stars.

your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling at the strands of hair at the back of his head. the groan the emanated from his throat rumbled in your mouth, making your body arch into his touch.

with one quick swoop, dean pulled away and lifted you up bridal style, spinning you around as you squealed in his ear. he then lightly placed you on your bed, hovering over and pressing feather like kisses to yours skin that felt like the melody of an angels song.

“i’ll never leave you,” he breathed into your cupid’s bow, breath mingling with yours as he panted heavily. “you and me? we’re in it for the long run. those walls i put up, i’ll break them down just so you could come in and get warm. but only for you, my darling girl.” you just smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck for a second time so you could bring his body on top of yours.

that is how you two fell asleep, dean eclipsing your body as he nuzzled deeply into your neck. it was perfect, something you didn’t know you needed when you sobbed underneath that wilting willow, but now something you couldn’t live without.

TAGS: @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @haunteres @honeyryewhiskey @starzify @fallbhind @rubyvhs @foolinthera1n @taurus-0-queenie-33 @vaiieydoii @bitchykittenconnoisseur @galacticalllcafffeine @jasvtsc @pascal-rascal424 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @fayeisuppose @angel-inspiredblog @geisterfvhrer @bluemerakis @si1ver06 @drqstqr @wh0s-ra3 @supernatural-bangtanboys @whump-loverz @mostlymarvelgirl @d3anwinchesterswife @youdontknowe @oceanolokys @chxrrybobaby-sin @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @hoyoooo @misatxox

*we love a man who grovels😏😻

[toxiccoworkeryaoi]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

"I'm just saying, if the heat bothers you so much, you could cut your hair" Nancy points out, after declining Eddie's pleas for her spare scrunchie.

Robin sits on Nancy's lap, clutching the back of Steve's seat and she looks at Steve through the side mirror like she's afraid that he's about to go on a mission to defend Eddie's honor or something but Steve rolls his eyes at her. He's not that gone.

Or at least he knows how to hide it well.

Eddie's lost several of Nancy's favorite hair accessories and two weeks ago she bowed to never lend him any ever again.

Which, does not stop Eddie from asking her anyway at least once a day.

But the point is, even if Steve wanted to, Eddie's honor cannot be defended in this situation.

Nancy's leaning behind Argyle's back now to glare at the metalhead. Steve can see them in the rearview mirror.

Eddie gasps "I would never" he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

Steve secretly breathes a sigh of relief.

Johnathan chuckles at the wheel. "But you could" he comments, eyes on the road.

Steve can see Argyle subtly laughing and shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Today is a rare occasion, Jonathan is driving them in Steve's car.

The goal of Steve's rant earlier about having to drive them everywhere was to get Eddie to drive them, so Steve could sit shotgun and watch Eddie drive.

Instead, Jonathan had offered first and then Steve couldn't go in the backseat because he's in charge of their map.

But whatever, this is fine too. He trusts Jonathan and it is nice to get a break and to be able to fully turn around when he's talking to someone in the backseat.

"Jon, I would lose all my sex appeal, you don't get it" Eddie answers, getting a box of Twinkies from one of the many bags they packed and placed on the floor of Steve's car.

"I get it" Argyle chimes in, watching Eddie pull out a Twinkie and shaking his head no when Eddie offers him one.

"You'd still be sexy with short hair" Robin comments from her seat on Nancy's lap.

Everyone turns to look at her.

"What?" she shrugs "I can say that"

Nancy chuckles into her shoulder.

Steve opens their map again to stop thinking about Eddie's 'sex appeal', even as the guy is excitedly munching on a Twinkie in the backseat of Steve's car.

He's got cream in the corner of his mouth and he clearly put more in his mouth than he can comfortably chew. He's leaning one elbow on Argyle's shoulder, his hand holding half a Twinkie, his other hand holds his mop of hair up in a high bun, causing his cut off tank to sit barely covering his nipples, his tattoos on display and his armpit hair fully visible.

Steve's fairly certain nobody else in this car would get it, but to him the sight is mouth watering. The guy is practically irresistible.

"I don't think i would've gone on even half the dates I've gone on if i didn't have my hair" Steve muses, for something to say and to add to Eddie's point, even though he agrees with Robin.

Almost everyone answers with agreeable noises, except Eddie and Robin.

Robin snorts and says "You are relentless"

While Eddie says "You don't get dates for your hair" at the same time. In a tone that suggests he thinks this is an obvious thing.

"I mean- it doesn't hurt" provides Nancy, she sends Steve an apologetic look but Steve waves her off. It's a compliment as far as he's concerned, he loves his hair.

Eddie finishes his treat and opens a new one while everyone else gives their opinions.

"For a lot of people, hair is a big part of attraction" Jonathan is saying, trying to seem like he's not speaking from experience.

"Especially hair as luscious as Steve's" Argyle agrees, leaning forward to lightly comb the side of Steve's hair, making him laugh.

"Thanks, man" Steve says overlapping Eddie's response.

"And I agree!" he exclaims "I'm saying he doesn't get dates because of his hair." Eddie goes on, waving his new Twinkie around for emphasis. "People throw themselves at Steve, and always will, but it's not because of his hair" he repeats.

Steve feels his cheeks heat up but still asks "Then why?"

"Well, because you're very pretty!" Eddie answers easily, like everyone should already know this.

Steve keeps his eyes carefully trained on the map, like he needs to study it meticulously, right this moment, while they're in the middle of a highway.

His cheeks are burning up and he can feel it spreading to his ears.

"And that's if they don't know you!" Eddie continues "If they do know you they know you're kind and brave and strong ...and generous and funny. Who wouldn't want all that in a date?" Eddie finshes.

Oh I don't know, you? Maybe? Do you? Steve thinks.

"Even bald, people would still go crazy for you" Eddie adds, his words slightly muffled towards the end as he shoves almost all of the new Twinkie in his mouth but apparently thinks better of it, biting all but a small piece.

"Here. You want the rest of this?" Eddie offers Steve, talking through his mouthful, and presenting the small piece with his ringed fingers, right in front of Steve's face.

Without thinking, Steve leans forward and takes it with his mouth, his lips burning where they touched Eddie's fingers.

As Eddie retrieves his hand Steve realizes what he just did and how quiet the car got.

He sends Robin a panicked look through the side mirror as Jonathan awkwardly clears his throat.

"Argyle's got nice hair" Robin tries.

The car immediately fills up with enthusiastic agreement and Steve slowly breathes out.

He can't bring himself to look at Eddie as he chews on his bite. He practically licked Eddie's fingers. Unprompted! The guy probably meant for Steve to grab the treat and then eat it. If he even accepted it at all!

Steve feels like an idiot and he frowns at the map again, willing himself to ignore the goosebumps in his arms and the tickling on his lips.

He doesn't see Eddie worriedly staring at him for the remaining of their conversation, until Nancy takes pity on him and offers up her spare scrunchie to distract him.

part 2

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Can I request reader x Lucifer, where she reassures him and tells him that she will always love and be there for him more than anything.

He deserves love, and Lilith deserves to go fuck herself.

I like to think that what's going on with Lilith is some kind of a misunderstanding or will otherwise be resolved, but our dear Lucy boy does indeed deserve comfort in the interim, so have this little ficlet!

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Hurt/Comfort

There were times when the King of Hell simply broke. The constant threats to his power, the atrocities committed by his subjects, the weight of all he'd done and his powerlessness to change anything for the better... it was too much, even for him. Once upon a time, he'd been able to share the weight of his crown, and to draw strength from the one he loved most on the days he couldn't think of a reason to get out of bed. Now, she was gone, and those dark days came for him all the more often in her absence. He'd survived, as he always had and always would, but his servants knew not to intrude when he sealed himself away to crumble behind closed doors. They'd learned no one could reach him when he fell into those dark thoughts.

You, unaware of these things, hadn't hesitated to seek him out when you didn't hear a word for over two days. His private wing of the castle had been unnaturally dim and dank when you'd arrived; the magical lights that usually kept it shimmering were mere flickers, and the golden walls seemed to sag, as if the structure itself was wilting under its own misery. A careful hand along the lifeless corridors had been needed to guide you through the darkness and to the King's private chambers.

When you'd opened the doors, you'd barely recognized the man on the bed at first glance. With his disheveled clothes, unkempt hair and lifeless red eyes, it had taken you a moment to recognize your beloved Lucifer, even with all six of his wings lying limp at his sides. You'd been across the room in a heartbeat once the pieces had connected.

Lucifer's surprise at your arrival had quickly turned to pleas for you to leave. He promised that he was fine, that he only needed to be alone, that you shouldn't bother yourself with such things, but of course you hadn't been convinced. The spread of shed feathers across the mattress and deep bags beneath his eyes told you he was in need of help, and you intended to provide it, however you could. Your steadfast refusal to leave finally brought the truth out of him.

"Alright, I'm not fine!" he confessed, sitting upright to face you. Seated on your heels, you gave him space instinctively, wanting him to continue so you might learn what was troubling the man you loved. Though your first guess would have been some unnatural, Hellish sickness, there was something about his movements that told you it was much deeper than that. Such a proud man would not let himself reach a state like this lightly. Grabbing a handful of his disheveled hair, he averted his eyes and took a shaky breath, wings crumpled around him in a ring of crimson feathers like a broken shield. Horns peaked from his forehead as he fought for his words.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry, but I just..." he trailed off as a wave of frustration passed through his features, expression pinching tight as he held his face in his hand. Though your heart ached at the sight, you held back still, knowing you needed the truth before you could do anything for him. A heavy sigh passed through his fingers before he raised his head to look out a nearby stained glass window. The mixed colors reflected deeply in his glassy eyes, and he let out a miserable laugh. "Sometimes, it's too much, you know? Hell, the Sinners, the endless misery, and old Lucy's got nobody to blame for any of it but himself."

"Lucy-"

"What am I even talking about? Nobody to blame? I've got nobody, period! I can't! Soon as someone gets attached, it all goes south! Either I've gotta push them away for their own good, or they end up leaving all on their own!" he continued, breaking into a bout of unhinged laughter. All six wings flexed without any kind of unison, sending a fresh shower of feathers over the both of you as he looked upwards and pointed an accusatory finger at the ceiling. "Top marks for the punishment, you Heavenly bastards! It's the gift that just won't stop giving!"

You'd have stopped him were you not shocked into silence by it all. There had always been hints of your beloved fallen angel's deeply buried suffering: smiles faltering without a word, sudden flashes of sadness in his eyes when he thought you couldn't see, the tightness with which he'd embrace you upon saying goodbye... There had just never been enough for you to act decisively, and he always brushed off even the most casual concern for his wellbeing. Now, with his sanity potentially hanging by a thread, you could almost feel the agony that was weighing him down.

"Gotta keep my daughter away for her own good, lost all my friends, lost my wife-!" he halted with an especially pained laugh, and clutched the fabric of his shirt as if wounded by the very word. Suddenly you understood his seclusion all too well. His beloved of the past ten millennia, the woman he'd crossed Heaven for, the mother of his child... Lilith had been his rock, and without her, how could he shoulder it all? The man before you was collapsing under a kind of pressure few could imagine.

Burying his face in his hands, he spoke next as if you weren't present, sinking into himself and the pit of misery he likely thought he deserved. "And sooner or later I'll lose you too! Can't I get a damned-!?"

"Lucifer!" you interrupted at last, grabbing his shoulders in tandem with the shout. He lifted his head in surprise, having never heard you raise your voice with him and likely quite unaccustomed to the sound to begin with. Emboldened by the success, you continued with all the confidence you could pack into every syllable, needing him to hear you and know you spoke the truth.

"You haven't lost me, and you won't!" you insisted, sure enough in yourself that you'd have challenged every Exorcist in Heaven to prove you meant it. Lucifer, still caught off guard by your initial yell, remained briefly unresponsive. Blinking suddenly, he shifted to an expression of apathy before taking hold of your wrists and gently pulling them off his shoulders.

"I want to believe that..." he replied softly, slightly more grounded now. Breath hitching, he slid his thumbs over the backs of your palms, taking a moment just to feel your presence before abruptly letting go. You could sense how hard he was resisting the urge to pull you in. "But there's so much that can happen. My position, my enemies... it's more than I can ask of anyone, and eventually... Well, everyone has a limit, and I can't blame them for leaving when they hit it."

In the short time you'd known him, you'd seen a great deal of the hardships he spoke of, and knew that many would indeed find the constant weight of his position too much to endure. Since being at his side inevitably meant shouldering some of that weight by proxy, you understood why many would find themselves unable to endure. It was indeed too much to ask of anyone...

Thankfully, you didn't need to be asked. You were offering.

"I don't have a limit. Not so long as I'm with you." you said more firmly, taking his hands back in your own. Once more, you looked into his eyes, and spoke with all the conviction your voice could possibly muster. "I don't care about Heaven, or the rest of Hell, or anything. If I'm with you, I can handle it."

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." Lucifer replied quickly, almost mechanical in his dismissal. Though he was still deep in his thoughts and deeper still in his grief, you didn't fail to notice how he let his hands remain in your grip. Despite it all, he wanted you, but just wasn't yet strong enough to face the pain of wanting. You didn't mind. He needed time to heal, and you'd shoulder as much of the load as possible for as long as it took for him to do so.

"Well, good luck trying to stop me." you said, ever more defiant. A small but far more genuine chuckle passed his lips, and you pulled him closer, encouraging the exhausts angel to lean on you for an embrace. When his head met your chest, you held him tightly, fingers brushing through his hair just the way he liked it. As his exhausted body eased against your own, you knew you spoke only the truth. "I love you, and I'm going to keep loving you. Nothing is ever going to change that."

He laughed again, sounding like he still believed his luck wouldn't change, but was daring to hope regardless.

"I love you too."

As you held him on the bed in silence, you vowed to every being from the highest peaks of Heaven to the lowest depths of Hell that he wouldn't regret this.

[ms-snape]

Snape propose reader right after end of the war. She is like.: You are alive ? But she say yes anyway.

Title: You're Alive

Warning: Kinda depressed reader....

Words Count: 1700+

A/N: Girllll, your requests are literally my favorites to write

Masterlist

---

It had been months since the war ended, but for Y/n, peace never truly came. While the rest of the wizarding world began to piece itself back together, she was trapped in a ceaseless cycle of grief and loss. Her days became repetitive, like a cruel loop, each one identical to the last, and every morning, when she forced herself out of bed, felt like another small act of survival. There was nothing left for her but the weight of an unspoken goodbye, a farewell she had never had the chance to utter.

Severus was dead.

The words echoed endlessly in her mind, like the tolling of a death bell. When she had first heard the news, it hadn’t felt real. It had come from Minerva, her voice soft and laden with sympathy, eyes full of sorrow as she delivered the news. Y/n had stood there, numb and silent, as Minerva explained what had happened in the Shrieking Shack. Severus had died alone, his body found hours later among the debris and bodies scattered across the battlefield.

He was gone.

For days after, Y/n had simply wandered through life like a ghost, unsure of where to place her grief. She barely remembered the days following his death—the endless condolences, the quiet murmurs of pity. The world continued to move around her, but it had lost its meaning. There were times she thought the grief might swallow her whole, that the crushing weight of it would pull her down into a pit she would never be able to climb out of.

She stopped seeing friends. Stopped talking to the people who reached out. What was the point? They couldn’t give her back what she had lost. She spent most of her time alone, secluded in her small cottage, where the silence was only broken by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The space she had once loved now felt like a tomb—its quietness amplifying the hollow ache inside her.

Her only solace came in the routine. Each morning, she rose before dawn, despite the ever-present exhaustion that clung to her bones. She would make herself a cup of tea that she rarely drank, then head out to the greenhouses. The plants there didn’t judge her, didn’t expect anything from her. They simply grew, day by day, providing her with something to nurture, something to keep her hands busy.

Tending to the plants had become a way to distract herself from the constant ache. In the quiet of the greenhouses, she would lose herself in the familiar rituals—watering, pruning, checking for pests. She would kneel in the dirt, feeling the earth between her fingers, grounding herself in the life that persisted around her. It was the only thing that seemed real anymore.

She remembered how Severus had once stood at the edge of the greenhouses, his dark eyes watching her as she worked. His expression had been unreadable, but she had known, even then, that he found some strange comfort in seeing her amidst the greenery, her hands busy with life. He never said as much, but she could always sense the unspoken bond between them, the way he softened just slightly in her presence.

But now… there was nothing. Just the emptiness where he used to be.

As the weeks passed, the numbness gave way to something darker—anger. How could he have left her? How could he have gone off to fight in the war and not come back? It wasn’t fair. She hated him for it, hated him for being so brave and selfless, for choosing to sacrifice himself when she had needed him most.

And yet, even in her anger, she missed him with a ferocity that bordered on madness. The memories of him consumed her—his quiet, sarcastic remarks, the way his lips twitched ever so slightly when he found something amusing. She would catch herself sometimes, expecting him to walk through the door, to hear the familiar creak of the floorboards under his boots, only to be met with silence.

The nights were the worst. Alone in her cold bed, she would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment they had spent together. She longed for the warmth of his body beside her, for the steady rhythm of his breathing in the dark. But those moments were gone now, like a dream she could never return to.

As time wore on, the others began to accept Severus’ death as an unfortunate but necessary casualty of war. They moved on. They rebuilt their lives. But Y/n couldn’t move forward. She was stuck in the past, trapped by the memory of what had been and the unbearable weight of what never would be.

It was a stormy evening when the impossible happened.

The rain had started in the late afternoon, a slow drizzle that steadily grew into a downpour. Y/n had finished her work in the greenhouses early, her head pounding from a persistent headache. She trudged through the rain, not bothering to cast a spell to shield herself from the wet. What did it matter? Nothing really mattered anymore.

As she approached her cottage, something caught her eye—a figure standing near the front door, half-hidden in the shadows.

For a moment, she froze, her heart stuttering painfully in her chest. She squinted through the rain, trying to make out who it could be. Her mind immediately leapt to the worst possibility—had something else happened? Was someone here to deliver more bad news?

But as she stepped closer, she saw the unmistakable silhouette of a tall man, his dark robes billowing slightly in the wind.

Her breath hitched.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Severus?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain pounding against the ground.

The figure turned, and in that moment, her world shattered and reassembled itself all at once.

It was him.

Severus Snape stood before her, alive and whole, his dark eyes staring at her with an unreadable expression.

She felt as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath her, her knees nearly buckling under the weight of the shock. She had spent months mourning him, months believing that he was gone forever. And yet here he was, standing in the rain like some ghost returned from the dead.

“You’re alive,” she breathed, her voice trembling with disbelief.

He nodded, his face pale and gaunt, but unmistakably real. “I am.”

For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking violently. This was real. He was real. But how? Why hadn’t he come to her sooner?

“I—I thought you were dead,” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking. “I… I thought you were gone.”

Severus’ expression softened slightly, a rare crack in his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I didn’t mean for you to think that.”

Y/n shook her head, her emotions a chaotic storm inside her. She didn’t know whether to scream at him or collapse into his arms. Anger and relief warred within her, and she wasn’t sure which one would win.

“I waited for you,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I waited… for so long.”

Severus stepped closer, his dark eyes never leaving hers. He reached out, hesitant at first, then cupped her face in his hands. His touch was warm, solid, and the reality of it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m here now,” he said softly.

Tears welled up in her eyes, the dam breaking after months of holding everything inside. She had been so strong, so determined not to let the grief consume her, but now, with him standing before her, the weight of it all was too much to bear.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Severus’ thumb brushed away the tears that slipped down her cheeks. “You didn’t.”

They stood like that for a long moment, the rain pouring down around them, soaking them both to the bone. But neither of them seemed to notice. The world had shrunk to just the two of them, the space between them charged with the weight of all that had been lost and found again.

And then, as if spurred by some unseen force, Severus reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, simple ring. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he held it up, his dark eyes flickering with something she hadn’t seen in him for a long time—hope.

“I should have asked you this a long time ago,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… will you marry me?”

For a moment, Y/n couldn’t breathe. The question hung in the air between them, heavy and full of meaning. She stared at him, her mind racing, trying to process everything that had just happened. He was alive. He was asking her to marry him. It felt surreal, like a dream she was afraid she might wake up from at any moment.

She didn’t answer right away.

Severus’ expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He lowered the ring slightly, his grip tightening around it. “You don’t have to say yes,” he said quickly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I understand if—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. “No, I just… I need a moment.”

He watched her, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of rejection. But Y/n wasn’t rejecting him—far from it. She was just trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she had mourned for months was standing here, asking her to spend the rest of her life with him.

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded, a small, teary smile breaking through her grief.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Severus’ face softened, and without another word, he slipped the ring onto her finger. It was simple, elegant—just like him. And as he pulled her into his arms, Y/n let herself collapse into him, her tears mixing with the rain as they clung to each other like lifelines.

For the first time in months, Y/n felt something other than grief.

She felt hope.

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Third Place Poll

Propaganda...

Colonel Brandon (1995):

Alan Rickman has the sexiest voice. Just listen to him reading poetry to Marianne at the end to witness how hot he is.

Alan Rickman simply embodies the truth of Col. Brandon in a way that no one else every could. It's the perfect merging of actor and role. He brings the perfect combination of honor, decency, sensitivity and passion. He is the ultimate mensch.

Brandon propaganda in which even the film's director agrees that Brandon is sexy.

More Brandon propaganda! This photo could only be published in black and white because it would have been too powerful in color (the original color version is currently being used to provide electricity for a medium sized town in Devon. It's THAT powerful).

The brim of the hat falling over his eye. The casual lean. The hunting rifle slung across his leg. The puppy bestie. The fact you know he could row that boat while you watch and wish you were the boat.

From Emma Thompson's diaries which she kept while they were shooting Sense & Sensibility. Emma Thompson said vote Colonel Brandon.

The man has just heard her sing for a minute and he’s positively awestruck!

also adding his adorable adorable smile just bc i can.

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

64.media.tumblr.com

Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

GIF by elinordash

[ellstersmash]

Prompt time! Solas and Athi discuss at length if the other would love them as a worm. Please and thank you 🙏

rare and marvelous

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan Rating: G for General now illustrated :')

-

“Are you comfortable in that form?”

Athi’s voice cuts into the quiet of the Fade and Solas’ own silent musings, the path they’re currently on less twisting, and therefore less mentally demanding, than most.

“This form?” he responds. “Or do you refer to another?”

“You know, most people don’t have to specify that.”

“I believe we can agree that I am not most people.”

Athi’s features scrunch together in amusement as she most certainly prepares to tease him—her favorite pastime, not that the Fade provides much of a variety from which to choose. “So true,” she says, the sing-song notes of it echoing in the shifting emptiness around them. “You’re very special.”

“Your approval of my circumstances is paramount,” he states dryly. “Which form are you currently curious about?”

“Your new—or, well, old—spirit form. It’s very… tendrily.”

Solas chuckles. “I can say with great confidence that I have never before been accused of being ‘tendrily.’”

“Love that we’re still finding firsts. Don’t you?” Athi nudges him with an elbow. The self-satisfied smile on her face makes its own light, her playfulness a beacon in the dull dark of this domain.

“You are right,” he says, “and I should hardly be surprised that you are still able to surprise me.”

“Or maybe you should be surprised by my surprising you, otherwise it’s not much of a surprise, is it? But back to my question: do you like to hang around as your tendrily spirit-self?”

“It is not so dissimilar to this one.”

“It floats.”

“Well, yes.”

“And you don’t have hands.”

Solas chuckles. “But many tendrils, as I’ve been recently informed. Besides, one does not need appendages to affect the Fade; only a capable mind and sufficient will.”

“Well, you need appendages to affect me,” Athi mumbles.

Solas grins over at her then, waiting until he catches her eye to lean closer, lower his voice, and ask, “Do I?”

She’s not the only one with the power to tease. It has the intended effect, of course: her eyes widen and unfocus for a few long moments, the air thickening with desire before she shakes it off.

“So is that a yes, then?” she asks.

“Yes, I am comfortable in that form, as I am comfortable in this one.”

“But not the wolf.”

This is not something he’s considered, and he takes his time answering. “The Dread Wolf was born of a specific need to threaten the evanuris and as a show of power and protection for those who would escape or oppose them. And, as you know, it takes a great deal of energy to maintain. I would not call it ‘comfortable’ by any stretch of the definition.”

“Cute, though.”

Solas rolls his eyes at her flippancy. “I refuse to dignify that statement with a response.”

“That is a response.” But she takes his hand and squeezes, warmth diffusing into Solas’ chest as her affection washes over him in gentle waves.

Some time later, it occurs to him to wonder why she brought this subject up in the first place. “Are you comfortable with my spirit form, Athi?”

“I mean, sure. It’s just new. And it is different, at least to me. Not as solid.”

“Different in a bad way?”

“No. I mean, yes in some ways. Harder to kiss you, for one thing.” She squeezes his hand again. “Also I’m never really sure which eyes to look into.”

“In truth, that form does not have eyes, or even sight in the way you’d experience it.” 

Athi looks up at him, a vacant expression which he can only classify as bewilderment on her face.

“There are other senses which allow me to perceive the world,” he continues. “Ones which are very difficult to explain to someone who cannot experience them, but rest assured that I know where you are and what you are doing, whether in spirit form or this one.”

“That clears things up less than I think you think it does.”

“I am sorry. Perhaps you might simply choose your favorite ‘eye’ with which to maintain contact as we converse.”

“Right, I’ll give that a go.” 

“Does it truly bother you? Does it change your opinion of me?”

Athi stops short, her hand still clasped in his tugging him to a halt in turn. “What? No, it doesn’t ‘bother’ me. It’s just different. And I have to be different with it.”

“But I am still…” He is unsure how to ask the right question, but feels it imperative that he discover the answer. “I am still Solas, to you? Even when I wear that form?”

“Who else would you be?”

“Does it change how you feel about me? Your—” It is still so hard for him to accept the concept that even forming the word is a challenge. “Your love for me?”

“Oh.” Athi’s whole being relaxes on a sigh and a soft smile. She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses two of his knuckles. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing can change that.”

“Well. That is a relief. Thank you.”

They continue along their path, but the quiet hardly has time to settle back in when Athi speaks again.

“Solas?”

He hums an acknowledgement.

“If I were in a different form, would you still love me?”

The answer is obvious, but he entertains the subject. “Temporarily?”

“No, I think permanently.”

“Of course I would. It is your spirit that I adore—though I am fond of your form as well.”

She laughs brightly. “Good answer! But what if it was really different? Like a fish? Or a worm? What if you woke up one day and I was a worm?”

“Is your spirit intact within this worm?”

“Let’s say yes.”

“Then yes, I would still love you. And I would learn to love your worm form in time.”

“Okay.” She’s silent long enough that he thinks the matter dropped, then: “But what if my spirit was changed, too? What if I had a worm spirit now?”

“That would be an impossibility.” Even more impossible than the premise, but he keeps that to himself. “If your spirit was no longer yours, but a worm’s, then there would be no you within it. I would cherish your memory into eternity, and leave the worm to live out its life.”

Athi gasps and stops again, dropping his hand to match her other one on her hip. “You would leave me?!”

“It would not be you, vhenan. It would be a worm.”

“But I would be the worm!”

“You’re not the worm. Without your spirit, the worm is just a worm.”

“What if I was always the worm?”

She appears genuinely distressed, and Solas isn’t sure he can reason his way out of a conversation this ridiculous. “Then we likely would never have met. You would not love me either.”

“You don’t know that!”

Solas sighs heavily, cradling his temples in one hand. “I fear we’ve stepped out of the incredibly hypothetical discussion we began and into a deeper one.”

Athi starts ahead without him. “You’ve certainly stepped into something.”

[obsessedwrhys]

|| BRYON DATING HEADCANONS ||

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ just fluff, reader is gn!! (I've been meaning to do him lol)

Let's be honest, if you were to become his significant other, you would need an awfully lot of patience.

That's because he's not much of a social person, he knows who are his people and that's enough for him.

Personally, I think the only way you'd be friends with him is if you knew someone close to him. Maybe Lorsan or Lyca being the one who introduces him to you.

He doesn't like loud people. No hate. He just finds it stressful as it overwhelms his senses easily.

That's why it comes easily that he prefers someone's who's gentle and kind. Call it cliché but he appreciates beauty when he sees it.

Once your friendship starts to blossom, you'll start to notice the little things he does for you.

How he'd always be there for you if you needed some company, how he would provide you the book you had told him just the other day and how he would listen intently to your opinions even when he doesn't agree with them.

It all made you fall for him just that easy.

However, you didn't expect him to return those feelings because well, you just felt that he was way out of your league. He was too good to be true you know? So when he confessed it turned your world upside down.

Scenario ↴

You'd find yourself seated on a hill, enjoying the sunset with your eyes closed as the cold breeze blew on your face. It was nice to catch a break after finishing a handful of tasks. Suddenly you heard sounds of footsteps approaching from behind, you looked over your shoulder to see it was no other than Bryon.

"I hope I haven't disturbed you, would you mind if I share this view with you?" He'd ask politely.

"Not at all, go ahead" With your approval, he sat himself beside you. The absent of his falcon caught your attention.

"Where's Elona?"

"She's getting her rest. The battles these days have been draining" He said and you nodded to his words before turning to stare at the orange sky.

Neither of you said anything but you both found comfort in each other's presence. Due to his acute hearing, you had a feeling that he enjoyed this peaceful moment just as much as you was right now.

"May I say something?" He said which caught your interest.

"Of course, you don't need to ask" You said and it had him at ease a bit.

Though the way his jaw clenched as if he was debating on what to speak made you wonder if it was something serious.

"(Y/N), I'm afraid I have fallen for you..." He said. You had almost forgotten how to breath properly when you heard him.

"I don't know when it began... it seems like the feeling was always there. But I don't mind it. I choose not to fight these thoughts... because I love that I'm in love with you" He smiled softly at you, the blush on your face making you look ever more adorable to him.

"I wouldn't mind being yours as there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you...ah... my apologies, I'm getting ahead of myself... I didn't give you the time to speak" He said by the time he noticed that your lips were parted in shock. You quickly gained back your composure once the attention was on you.

"I uh... wow... okay..." You rubbed your arm awkwardly. Eventually you were able to think straight after calming yourself down.

"I actually feel the same way Byron... I just didn't think you'd think of me like that" You looked at him, your eyes sparkling with joy.

"Oh (Y/N)... you're all that I think about..."

When the relationship was settled, everyone congratulated you two. Especially Lorsan, he was quick to wish you both endless happiness. You had to admit, from the village's reaction, it almost felt like you two just got married.

His companion, Elona would definitely see you as her owner after a few weeks into the relationship. If he trusts you, she trusts you as well.

In the relationship, Bryon is very loving and observant. The reason why I say observant is because he'll always be fast to know what are your likes and dislikes.

Oh someone offered you a fruit you don't like? He'll simply just take it for you. There's a sale going on at the market and they have one of your favourite things on display? Watch him be the first to be in line to get it.

He also knows when you're lying about something. He hates it however when you lie about not being sick or not being cold because taking care of you is LITERALLY his job!! Besides he doesn't mind babying you, he adores you!

That's why I think his kisses are delicate and soft, most of times he'd hum when kissing but he does it unconsciously because he's completely lost in the moment, if you placed your hands on his chest, you could feel the vibrations from his voice. In a way it's like he's purring.

He loves it the most when you run your hands all over his chest when kissing. It makes him fall even harder than he already has.

If we're talking about PDA, I think he's not that against it but he's also not that crazy about it. He's willing to hold your hand, having hugs and kisses but if you initiate anything that's crossing the line or could make anyone uncomfortable then he'll simply give you a soft smile and shut your thoughts out with a simple forehead kiss.

He enjoys cuddling by the way. He enjoys it the most when you both are like covered in layers of blanket. You once teased him for it, calling it his bird nest which ended becoming an inside joke.

Like you'd be having a conversation with Lorsan and he's trying to be as patient as possible waiting for you to finish but knowing his friend, he's most likely never gonna stop talking so he'd politely invite himself into the conversation.

"Darling... can we go back to the birds nest?" He'd say, meaning he's in desperate need of cuddles. You would smile at his cute request and nod.

"BIRD'S NEST!? (Y/N), is he holding you captive???"

Expectedly, his pet names would be more of the lovey dovey stuff. He'd call you things like darling, sweetheart, baby, and even pumpkin. He enjoys your reaction each time cause you never know which one he'll use.

"You're adorable when you pout darling... oh alright, I'll buy you the candy you want. Only if you promise me a kiss after"

He's a romantic. There's no denying it. This man's love language is 100% act of service.

He's the type to light up dozens of candles at the entrance of the door so that the first thing you are greeted when coming home would be a fancy candlelit dinner prepared just for you.

He also happens to run the shower for you just as you're about to arrive home, he even places flower petals to add some scent to the mood. Anything to help you relax.

He's more of a giver than a receiver but if you ever showered him in love. He's positive that he'll faint. Even a simple "I love you" can cause him to smile all cheerfully.

You also happen to be one of the few people to see his eyes. Obviously he doesn't wear the blindfold to sleep so that's how you were able to get the chance to see him without it.

His eyes are beautiful. A perfect shade of light green and yellow, almost resembling eyes of a bird. They were pearls that entrapped you in a daze that you couldn't help but stare into them each time you cuddled with him.

He didn't mind but rather find it cute how you were in awe from his irises.

Another thing I want to point out is he enjoys holding hands with you, whatever it is, he just finds your hands fascinating.

You two could be cuddled in bed and he'd just have your hand placed on his, his fingers gently trailing against the skin of your palm.

"I love the way your hand fits in mine... it's almost like destiny..." He'd utter.

Since it's canon he has a soothing voice, you can expect him to sing you lullabies or just any song to help you go to sleep if you ever had trouble sleeping.

If you did have a nightmare, trust him to be there to hold you in his arms as he hums you a melody.

Honestly? He's just like Prince Charming but better.

[rebelliousstories]

What Did You Say?

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Pregnancy

Word Count: 1,406

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: The whole reason they got married was with the goal of repopulation. That is why anyone in the Vaults gets married. Being married to Norm is a challenge all on its own.

Norm was speechless. That alone was highly unusual for him as he did not get speechless, simply he did not voice every thought that pops into his head. But here he sat, without a thought to voice, and a mouth with which to do it. He did not process the fact that his wife was slowly loosing her smile, and instead of excitedly bouncing, she was shifting nervously.

“What’s going on in your head, sweetheart?” She asked, concerned for her husband’s wellbeing. In the entire time that they had been married, or even had known each other, she had never known him to be this paralyzed.

“Are you sure?” Sure, it was not the best thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to him.

“Of course I’m sure. The doctor checked me a couple days ago,” she moved to hold his hands. “Norm, we’re having a baby.” While she held out hope that at some point he would get excited with her, that hope was draining by the second.

“And it’s mine?” Again, it was not the best thing to come out of his mouth because her look turned sour really quick.

“Are you accusing me of something, Norman?” Her voice was no longer sweet; this was a dangerous growl.

“No, no. I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m just- we’re having a baby?” He was still not on the same plane of existence as her.

“Yes, Norm. We’re having a baby. I thought you’d be excited, or joyful, or even able to crack a darn smile. What is going on with you?” She was starting to tip over into yelling and their vault doors could only do so much sound proofing.

“No I’m- I mean, yes I… just,” he stammered, “I’m just not sure this is the best time.” He murmured, and began to fiddle with his hands.

“Well, it’s apparently a perfect time according to our bodies. Ever heard the expression, ‘it takes two to tango’? I didn’t make a baby by myself.” It felt like such an obvious observation, and yet, she felt like she was trying to talk to a child.

“I know that, I’m just. I’m not sure I’m fit to be a dad. I’m just gonna-” and he took off. Opening their door, Norm left their little humble home to go off to who knows where. Slouching to the floor, she held her stomach and cried. Sure people got scared to be parents but they did not run out on their pregnant wives while doing so? Thoughts ran wild in her head with Norm gone. Would she end up being a single mother? She knew that divorce was a thing but no one in the last two hundred years had one in the vaults. If someone was a single parent, it was because one parent had died.

Her sobs continued well into the night. Even when dinner time came, she ate alone; staring at the empty seat but a full plate where Norm would sit. She went on with her nightly routine as if nothing was wrong, as if half of her world was not missing. The bed felt too big now without her husband. As she lay in bed, she could not help but to let the tears come once again. She cried herself to sleep without even realizing it, and was only awoken by the morning bell. Her husband’s side was still together, even if she had taken his pillow to provide some comfort for herself.

She went about her breakfast routine, but was quickly sent to vomit when she smelled the eggs and bacon she had prepared. Coming out, nothing looked amiss, and she set about making toast. Toast would be safe to eat.

An executive decision was made for her, by her, to stay in for the day. She could afford a day off with the evening she had. A lot of her time was spent reading, or staring at the door. As much as she did not like him right now, she still loved her husband and wanted him by her side. The notification came through her pip-boy from the doctor about her ultrasound appointment today. It almost felt bittersweet. On one hand, she did not feel like inviting Norm to the appointment with how he was acting. But on the other hand,he was still her husband and the father of her child. He deserved the choice at least.

The forwarded message came across the gear that was on Norm’s arm, and he was shocked. After he ran away last night like a coward, he did not expect this from his wife. Norm saved the appointment onto his pip-boy for later use and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“You alright, son?” Hank asked of his boy, bringing over two mugs. The one with tea was set in front of the younger MacLean, while his dad drank his allotted amount of coffee.

“Just grappling my thoughts. She sent me a notification of a doctor’s appointment this evening, but I don’t even know if she really wants me there.” Norm admitted, fiddling with his hands underneath the table.

“If I remember one thing about your mother, is that during both of her pregnancies, her hormones made her a ball of emotions. You could say the grass was green and she would burst out crying.” Hank chuckled, and took another sip while his son just sat there.

“There was a time where she was so angry with me that I didn’t like the name that she picked for her top name for you, that I was kicked to the couch for two days.” This made Norm perk up.

“So what did you do? How did you fix things with her?” He asked, eager to hear the rest of the story.

“I went with her to your final ultrasound. Didn’t hold her hand or anything, but once we say you fully formed, she reached for my hand and said, ‘Norman, that’s what we’ll call him.’” His dad chuckled as he finished the story, and gained a sad look in his eyes.

“So what should I do?” Norm asked, finally taking a sip of his tea.

“If it were me, I’d go to the appointment. No matter how mad she is now, she’ll be worse if you miss that.” A timer dinged and as they looked for the source of the sound, they realized it was Norm’s pip-boy. Hs reminder for the appointment came up and he dashed out of the door without another word. Norm walked briskly to the doctor’s office, and tried not to run; no matter how much he wanted to.

By the time he got there, he saw her head dip into a room, that he somehow managed to catch. Norm saw her unzipping her vault suit, and rolling up her white shirt when he opened the door. He let out a breath that he did not realize he was holding and came over to help her.

“You came.” She stated, resting her hands on his face.

“I came.” He repeated, holding her body close to his in a crushing hug.

“I’m ready to be a dad.” Norm whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. It made her heart swell to hear those six little words come from his lips. The couple pulled away right as the doctor came in.

“Oh, hello Norm. Here to see the missus and the kiddo?” She spoke jovially, setting down her equipment to get started. Rubbing the cold gel on the mom-to-be’s belly, she held the wand against it to start looking inside. norm remained silent as he stared at the screen with a little black and white mage starting to emerge.

“There they are. That’s their leg, and arm. The beginnings of their head and organs and, oh wait. There’s their head. No, wait.” The doctor spent a minute looking intensely at the screen which freak the MacLean’s out just a little bit.

“Oh, okay. Not to worry.” She spoke finally.

“Why? What’s going on?” Mrs. Maclean was confused and concerned as she tried to sit up, only to be held down gently by her doctor.

“No, everything is okay. There are two heads. You’re having twins. Congratulations.” Once more, she held a happy tone as she went back to the screen. Yet again, Norm spoke without thinking it through.

“What did you say?”