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

[haledamage]

A kiss as if trying to answer a question for Kira/Mason

surprising no one I'm sure, Mason won the honor of first post-Book 3 fic! ~1100 words, a few minor and vague spoilers for book 3. mostly sweetness with a hint of spice (and a fade to black at the end 😉)

A selection of songs Kira plays in this scene (all links go to youtube):

1. Come On In My Kitchen - Robert Johnson (video is a cover by Larkin Poe) 2. Just some lyricless blues guitar (example from Justin Johnson) 3. Fancy Drones (Fracture Me) - Amythyst Kiah 4. Shelter - Dorothy 5. Hard Learned - Tyler Bryant & The Shakedown 6. Hangover Blues - Amythyst Kiah

--

Kira could feel some of the tension ease out of her shoulders with the first strum of the guitar. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed it in the chaos of the last few weeks, how much she needed to unwind. Her fingers flowed across the strings, and she felt the music wrap around her like a warm hug.

She was halfway through “Come On In My Kitchen,” humming along with the melody, when someone knocked on her door.

“It’s open.”

Even before the door swung open, she knew who would be there. Mason was the only one who would seek her out at this time of night unless it was an emergency.

He leaned against the doorway like a figment out of a dream, all shadow and sharp edges. Effortlessly beautiful. Kira couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over him and drink in the sight.

He smirked as he watched her openly admire him. “Don’t stop on my account, sweetheart.”

It was only then that she noticed that her fingers had gone still, the guitar much less interesting than he was. She quickly picked the song back up more or less where she had been, ignoring how hot her face grew as she blushed. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a music-lover.”

Something passed over his face, but it was gone before she could tell what it was. “Neither would I.”

Mason kicked the door shut behind him as he moved into the room, climbing into the bed behind her without needing an invitation. One of his arms curled around her waist, fitting perfectly into the space between her and her guitar, and he pulled her backwards until her back met his chest.

A relieved sigh escaped her as the migraine she’d been fighting since lunchtime finally unwound as she relaxed against him. She could feel him react in a similar way, the tension in his body easing away as he settled them into a comfortable position.

Kira made a small contented noise when he pressed a kiss to the top of her shoulder. The distraction made her fingers stumble on the strings for a moment before she refocused.

They stayed like that for a while, letting the comfortable silence settle over them. The only sound was the warm, resonant hum of the guitar.

It was Mason that eventually broke it. “Didn’t know you played guitar.”

“Most people don’t.” She couldn’t see his expression, but she could feel his curiosity in the way he sat up a little straighter, angling himself to let her know he was listening. She smiled and let her head fall back on his shoulder. “Being a big name in a small town is like living under a magnifying glass. Everyone’s always watching me. This is something that’s just mine. Just for me and the people I choose to share it with.”

“Does that include me?” There was something pinched and strained in his voice, like he expected her to respond negatively.

Kira stopped playing so she could turn around and look at him. His expression reminded her of the night of the auction, an uncertain frown and a storm in his eyes that gave extra weight to his question. 

She brushed her hand against his cheek, watching his uncertainty drain away as she did, before leaning in to kiss him. She tried to let her actions speak for her, pouring her answer into every touch. It will always include you. I want to share everything with you. I love you.

It was a long time before they parted, and even then only because she needed to breathe.

Mason rested a hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched. His thumb traced the curve of the crescent moon tattoo on the back of her neck, eyes still closed, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips.

“What was that song you sang before?” he asked suddenly. “At the antique shop?”

It took a few seconds to rack her brain and recall the song. She’d been so desperate to find something, anything that could provide him a bit of relief while his crystal was being cleansed that she’d latched onto the first song that popped into her head. And then several more after when he’d collapsed against her, his head buried in the crook of her neck like he wanted to be as close to her voice as possible.

“Fracture Me.”

“Can you sing it again?”

Kira stole another kiss before nodding. “I can do that.”

After a bit of rearranging on the bed to get them back to a comfortable position, she started playing again. It took a minute to find her rhythm again--not helped by the fact that she was now practically in Mason’s lap--but she settled into it before long, and began singing.

There was none of the usual nervousness she expected, none of the uncomfortable sensation of having a spotlight shone on her like she normally got when she sang in front of someone new. This was Mason. He’d seen parts of her - literally and figuratively - that no one else had in a long time. If ever. It felt completely natural to show him this part too.

Kira finished one song and went right into another. Then another. Mason stayed quiet the whole time, unmoving except for his hands, which had found their way under her shirt and were drawing small and terribly distracting circles across her stomach.

Halfway through the fourth song, the music came to an abrupt halt, ending in a sharp gasp when his lips pressed firmly against her throat.

She could feel his smirk against her skin as he tugged back the collar of her shirt to trail hungry, open-mouthed kisses over her collarbone and shoulder. “Don’t stop on my account, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” she ground out, somewhere between exasperated and needy. “Mason.”

He chuckled, the deep rumble of it making her shiver. “That right there is my favourite song.” He kissed his way back up her neck so he could purr in her ear, “Want to sing it for me again?”

At her nod, he gently took the guitar from her, setting it on its stand by the bed with a surprising amount of care. Once it was out of the way, he pulled her close once more, hands and lips already roaming to the places he knew were most sensitive and could draw the best sounds from her.

Kira didn’t mind admitting this was her favourite song, too. Especially since Mason made an excellent duet partner.

[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.”

[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 wife of his bodyguard.” 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.”

[transvampireboyfriend]

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.

[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

[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.

[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.”

[rankotendo]

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.

[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.

[irisintheafterglow]

Hello, I have a request. So I have these lyrics brain rotting me and I just know you, with amazing writer skills, will be able to bring it to life. So, from The Prophecy, "Don't want money, just someone who wants my company" and like reader being lonely for a long time before meeting katsuki. I see reader as a very important part of the society, like not a hero, but more as a spy that can also fight (the Hero version of a fantasy assassin) And she is paired with Katsuki for a mission and he sees her in her true colours. Maybe a series? It's up to you, or course, but thank you for writing and being so talented and considering this request <33 Hope you have a great day!!

lowkey this request broke me in all the right ways omg...i love the prophecy so so so much it's so heartbreaking and definitely one of my favorites off ttpd <3 ty for your ask and all the love, hope you like this :)) so sorry that it took so long to get to and ty for your patience, i haven't had much time to write lately

cw: explicit language, implied fem!reader but no she/her pronouns (reader does wear heels), angst/fluff with happy ending, angry forced coworkers to lovers, bkg being lowkey mean but he's just psychoanalyzing you

you liked the sparkle, to a certain extent.

it was nice to pad around in designer satin, your name embroidered in gold thread on the back tag. you could appreciate the crushed velvet sofas in the living room of your high-rise penthouse, the walls covered in abstract art gifted to you by painters whose names you don't remember. your closet was larger than your university dorm and lined with enough expensive fabrics to start a hospital. everything about your lifestyle screamed luxury, yet even a marble bathtub couldn't provide much comfort when you came home at two in the morning to a cold, lifeless apartment. tragic.

bound by contract, you weren't allowed to live with civilian roommates, and pro heroes looking for places to rent were as scarce as dust left behind by your cleaning crew. you figured it was better that way, not needing to explain to your roommate why you're gone for weeks at a time on assignments and coming back with several broken ribs and a staggering sum of money. instead of friends, you had your job, however dangerous it became sometimes. you were good at playing a character (it's why you had your current job in the first place) and made it look like you weren't lonely, but you'd be lying if there weren't times you were just begging the sky to send you...who? who do you even want? love was a foreign word, a privilege reserved for those not in your profession. so you withstand whatever life throws at you like a statue made to wait, constantly on the brink of crumbling.

it's mid-january when you receive the call informing you that you'd be working with a partner on your next assignment. you wrack your brain for the few people trustworthy enough to join you, only for the words to catch in your throat when your agent says they're assigning someone for you.

if you were bad at working with others, bakugo was unapologetically worse.

"could you walk any louder?" you hiss into his ear as you stroll through the lobby of the most luxurious hotel in the city. his bicep flexes under your fingers, something you can only perceive as him stiffening in annoyance. "your big-ass feet are gonna get us compromised before we even make it past the perimeter."

"i'm not trained for stealth, genius," he argues, adjusting his suit jacket with free arm for the fifth time in twelve seconds. "i usually go in, blast the shit out of people, and call it a day."

"well, your thundering steps are doing the opposite of helping us blend in," you reply bluntly with a pretty smile toward the concierge desk. "we're doing recon, not infil." you take an abrupt step to the right, simultaneously bumping bakugo in the hip and making him stumble. with the way you start to sway and lean into him, your perfume makes his brain go fuzzy and his ears pinker.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

"you are literally the funniest person i've ever met. i can't believe i fell in love with you, sweetie," you drawl, fluttering your eyelashes.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" he cringes away as you beam at him with a lovesick smile, one hand keeping him flush against your body while the other brushes the pant leg of a passing security guard.

"just play along, darling," you seethe through a fake smile. without taking your eyes off your partner's face, your prize finds itself between your fingers and you unbutton the keycard without blinking, bringing it to his chest and smoothly slipping it into bakugo's jacket pocket with the guard none the wiser. once you catch the guard round a corner behind you via the reflection of a gilded mirror, you drop your act and detach yourself from a very flushed bakugo. "yikes, you're worse at this than i thought you'd be," you deadpan.

"you-you just used me to get that guy's card," he sputters in pure disbelief while you continue to walk down the side hall in the direction of the bar and banquet room. "the hell is wrong with you?"

"i work alone, bakugo," you say boredly. your heels click against the glistening marble and you roll your eyes as his loud steps catch up to you.

"yeah, that much is obvious," he glowers. "we're supposed to be working together on this shit-"

"you are not my partner in this job. you are a tool." you have half the mind to think that your coldness was too harsh, but remember that working alone is what you're best at, for better or for worse. "look, i'll get the job done; you just sit there and watch so our agencies can get off our asses about this being done through 'official means.' got it?"

"you think you're good at being alone, but it's actually killing you," he states in a tone that barely echoes off the sparkling walls. "you think you're good at being alone, but what you think is the farthest thing from reality." if you weren't running four minutes behind schedule, you'd whirl on him and slap his pretty face. you settle for stamping his foot with your heel and he lets you, an ungratifying fuck you all you get as a reward.

"i should have told my agent that i'd quit if she made me work with someone else," you snap with your arms crossed as he fishes out the keycard from his jacket pocket. he gives you a look that enrages you further, something between loathing and sympathy.

"take my arm, for fuck's sake. let's get this over with so i don't have to deal with you and your self pity ever again," he snarls and, for the first time, he catches you off guard. you obey without a word, eyeing him warily while he swipes the keycard and guides you into the crime boss' exclusive campaign gala.

"you know nothing about me, so don't try to analyze me since i know it's not your strong suit," you mutter under the sound of blaring jazz trumpets, sidling past investor after investor as they chatter excitedly about the your target's recently announced run for mayor. "i've seen the leaks about you heroes' IQ scores."

"yeah, they were faked by some extra in the todoroki agency that wanted to undermine him. wanted to imply that he was a nepo baby or some shit like that," bakugo replies without missing a beat and you're barely able to detect any malice in his answer. it confuses you. shouldn't he be pissed that you just insulted his intelligence? "icy-hot's one of the smartest guys i've met, so don't you fucking dare discredit him for one second." he's angry that you insulted...a different hero?

"that doesn't change the fact that you don't know shit about what i do," you dodge, spotting your target at a table near the banner-flanked main stage. he's surrounded by a dozen women who fawn on him like moths to a fire, caressing whatever body part they can get their hands on. it's exactly the scenario you need to bypass his defenses. "there, 3 o'clock. he's got his harem with him."

"so what's your play, lone wolf?"

"dance me toward him and then get out of my way," you order, dragging him onto the dance floor while the jazz band in the corner eases into a mellower tune. "what, got two left feet?"

"no, i'm just trying to figure out why you are the way you are," he questions, slipping one arm around your waist while his hand intertwines with yours.

"don't go hurting that handsome head of yours," you reply coldly without thinking, suddenly feeling your ears go hot when he smirks. "what?"

"nothing. 's just funny when you actually act human rather than the killing machine you were made to be," he admits and your jaw clenches.

"again, you know absolutely nothing about me." you subtly try to move your dancing bodies toward the crime boss' table, but meet bakugo's eyes with a glare when he actively spins you in the opposite direction. "we should be going that way, idiot."

"what if i wanna keep dancing with you, idiot," he retorts. "now," he takes a deep inhale, "i'm gonna tell you exactly what i think you are so maybe your next partner doesn't have to dig into your ass and get your head out of it."

"you are putting this whole operation in jeopardy--"

"don't care, especially if i'm being told by a self-pitying, pathetic excuse for a public servant who hides themselves away because they're too scared to make human connections," he rants, looking you directly in the eyes so you could see just how molten they were.

"stop," you warn, looking for any excuse to go in on your target so you could get out of the spotlight that bakugo was putting on you. he doesn't let you, though, effortlessly dipping you in a way that outsiders could consider flirtatious. it's an unfamiliar sensation, your spine curved under his steady hands, but all you can register is the intensity of his expression inches away from yours.

"you hide behind your callousness and say you don't need anyone fucking else because you've never had anyone else. and then, one day, when someone comes along who actually wants to know you for you, you're gonna be too much of a little bitch to realize that there are people who care about you. even if you are the most irritating being to call themselves human." he abruptly stands you both up and steps back, both of you burning and withstanding each other's wrath. your voice is smaller than you want it to be when you finally manage to speak.

"how would you know any of that?"

"because i was that." his attention flicks to behind you, toward the boss' table. "now would be your best chance. i'll sit at the bar and you finish the job, alone."

"...alone?"

"that's what you want, isn't it?"

no. i don't want it.

you don't catch him in time, some shackle like pride chaining you to the floor. it doesn't feel like relief, you realize when he turns to leave and disappears into the crowd. it feels like a punishment, an unbreakable curse that you'd put on yourself. you were a fool in a fable and it was sinking in, even as you worm the information you need out of your target and slip out of a back window, alone.

always alone.

---

it's not until ten months after your initial mission with bakugo that you finally work up the courage to tell off your agent.

"you have no place to be making such demands!" you lean away unbothered while your agent screams, her anger distorted by your phone speaker. "you have no idea how to--"

"don't care. i'm done working alone in the shadows," you interrupt with the callousness that once benefited you in your job. now, you realize, it was only impeding you and making it harder to find people who saw you as a human, not a tool. "put me in the infil mission or i'm quitting. for good."

"you don't know anything about infil. they'll eat you for breakfast if you join the op now," she hisses. "you need me."

"you made me think i needed you. you and the sparkle, and the fancy pajamas, and the smelly bath salts. you made me think that, to keep all the nice shit, i needed to be alone. but now i know i don't need to be."

"how would you know anything--"

"i know that you've purposefully delayed the infil operation so that you can cover up your ties to the boss' campaign, and that you sent me in with bakugo that night thinking i'd take the fall for your corruption. too bad he caught on and helped me investigate the todoroki IQ files you gave me and said they were official leaks."

"you're making a big mistake."

"and you should have learned sooner that i don't want the money. i never did."

"bullshit. money is all we have in this hero-run society, the only way we can be equal to them. what else would you want?"

"company." your agent falls silent at the same moment you hear a faint knocking on her line. "speaking of, looks like you have some." the tell-tale beep beep beep! of the call being ended echoes off the walls of the apartment and you sink further into the plush couch cushions, counting down leisurely on your fingers.

five,

four,

three,

two,

one.

"got her, babe!" you hear from down the hall. "and we got her good," katsuki says as he appears from your shared bedroom and grins at you. he leans against the door frame, waiting patiently as you delete your ex-agent's number from your contact list and show him the phone. "i ever tell you you're a natural at getting confessions out of people?" you giggle and let him pad over to you on the couch, sliding down so that he could lie his entire body on top of yours. even after all the time he'd been with you, the skin to skin contact still made your stomach burst into uncontrollable butterflies.

"i guess it comes with being a spy for so long," you suppose with a shrug. "but i'm not one anymore." your fingers absentmindedly trace the creases of back muscle through his shirt and he hums like a cat purring contentedly.

"yep, and now you're stuck with me until one of us dies in combat." you click your tongue with a tsk and lightly pinch his side, feeling him snort in triumph against your sternum.

"why can't you just say you love me like a normal person?"

"because neither of us are normal, genius," he explains, his eyes shut against your chest. "how normal is it to be so lonely that when you're around another lonely person, your shit cancels out?"

"i guess not that normal," you concede. "but still...what do i do now?"

"as much as i wanna say it, i don't think 'me' is the correct answer," katsuki proposes and you burst out laughing. "but really? anything you wanna do, baby. your hand's off the throttle, so now you're just cruising."

"since when did you use so many metaphors?" you ask with a teasing smile. "last week you said 'lightning in a bottle' and 'cursed like eve.'"

"since i met your dramatic ass."

"you know you love me."

"mmm, now you're finally starting to get it."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[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?”

[komoboko]

Sooooooo-

I've been stalking your blog- (mueheheh and I love your posts and writings 😭)

Can I request a kokushibo x Fem! Artist! Reader who often gets frustrated over little things whenever she messes her drawings up? And probably gives the most scary glares and annoyed looks. Meanwhile, he tries to comfort her.

Thank you! May you have a great day/night ahead!

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

kokushibo tsugikuni x gn!artist!reafer

This is set a little closer to when he was human so he can actually comprehend everything ur doing

Kokushibo doesn’t understand why you’re so mad at first.

While he does not completely blame you, he’s only more confused on why you’re feeling this way. In some ways he can link your frustration to his.. “occupation” so he can sympathize and understand you more.

He can’t say he doesn’t get annoyed himself when he can’t kill a certain group of slayers in the time he pleased. Maybe another victim found their way around and ran off as the sun started to rise. Mistakes like that frustrate him to. Kokushibo just doesn’t understand why you’re so upset about the tiniest of things.

Let say you try to start a new painting and something slightly goes off of the pattern or escape the lines. You’ll scrap it with an irritated glance before staring again on the next canvas. Bits and pieces of left behind are over something so tiny scatter around everywhere.

Not only does he not like what you’re getting mad at, he does not like the storm that follows.

Your temper rises significantly, and the amount of evil glances that meet at least one of kokushibo eyes will make him close all six of them to avoid yours. There is much more passive aggressiveness to any word you say and overall just a force of nature to be around.

Your attitude reminds him of an open wound, when you first add treatment like alcohol, it begins to burn.

Of course after you just patch it up so it can heal.

The next time you try and discard another piece, kokushibo is there to stop you. You could only look up at him with confusion, you can’t say there was slight irritation behind your eyes. Nevertheless you let him speak before you said anything yourself.

“Why must you wear yourself down?” The six eyed demon asked. You don’t reply, your eyes only drift down towards the countless crumbled pieces of paper that scatter the floor. Kokushibo takes your silence as a proper response and sees fit to continue.

He blinks before picking up a crumbled piece of paper unfolding it for you to see. “Humans are always to stubborn.” He blurts out turning back to you and holding up the two copies of paper. “Nearly identical copies that any human wishes they could draw themselves. Yet you crumble and throw them away like nothing.”

You turn your eyes away either from shame or anger and irritation. The demon before you only stares at you a sigh escapes his lips trying to find the proper words to say. “Mortals like you always try to strive for perfection when you already have it.” You perk up hearing his words.

“Self perfection can lead to self destruction if you don’t bring yourself back to reality.” His words shiver ringing in your ear. It only brings you back to reality, harsh words that really have a sweet meaning underneath. Your eyes drift back to your art and then back to the discarded treasures that litter the floor.

Kokushibo noticing the glint in your eyes hesitates before stepping closer. Slowly wrapping his arms around you to bring you into his embrace. You lean into his surprising warmth he’s providing as a needed sigh finally escapes your lips.

“Thank you.” Is all your able to mutter before your head moves to the crook of his neck, his hand coming around to rub circles slowly on your back.

Kokushibo can’t help but feel a slight smile spread across his lips. While healing takes steps he finds some happiness that you’ve taken the first leap of faith.

[lucysarah-c]

how do you think Levi will be with a s/o who has trauma due to sa? What will be he like when they're intimate, and how would he react if she has nightmares or sudden flashbacks and bad times when she thinks about it?

Btw I luv your blog, and the way you headcanon levi. Your arts are very pretty too!

Hi, sweetheart! Thank you so much for your kind words; they mean a lot to me <3 Hope you're doing great!

I think it's a delicate topic for many. The reaction and how each person wants or needs to be treated after such a difficult experience as sexual assault is very particular. I don't feel in a position to give names or anything, but some girls that I've met don't feel triggered by the sexual act per se but by something else that reminds them of the person who abused them, etc.

So I do believe that the journey to learn to cope with traumatic experiences and understand the new ways our brain can react after such events is extremely personal. As I've mentioned in previous answers, Levi is a better listener than he is a talker, so he will probably be glad to provide a place where she feels comfortable talking to him if she wants to. If it's too new and she doesn't feel safe, I think Levi is hyperaware of his surroundings. If he notices she feels unsafe, he will volunteer to do something or keep her company if she prefers it.

About sex, even though I write a lot of smut, I do believe Levi's sex drive is rather low, especially as a Captain. It's not that he doesn't like to have sex or doesn't enjoy it, but I don't think Levi is one of those guys who are into it 24/7 or constantly aroused, etc.

On the contrary, while certain things may get him more in the mood, I think he's rather laid-back about it. So if his partner needs time and comfort before she's ready again, then so be it. I can hardly imagine Levi being like "walking backwards like the exorcist's girl" just because he didn't get laid. Sure, maybe he wishes to do it more frequently or gets in the mood and knows she's not ready yet... so he'll deal with it like any human being does; he'll take care of himself and move on.

In particular, with Levi's history with his mother, the last thing this man wishes to do is "impose" his need for intimacy as if men can't control themselves. Levi can control himself; he's human, not a little beast. So he doesn't mind waiting.

Then, about taking action, I personally headcanon Levi as dominant and enjoying being in control, but if the situation calls for it, Levi would 100% be alright with her taking the lead in what she feels comfortable with, what she doesn't, how far they can go, etc. He may have other "kinks," but he would prioritize making her feel safe.

Regarding the comforting part, I think that's the hardest for Levi because he's not naturally good at it. Nevertheless, he will try his best to provide comfort. Levi would probably try to help calm her down as best he can, offering some tea, perhaps a quiet environment, staying by her side if she needs to feel protected, and most likely listening—he will listen to his partner talk about the same topic 50 times if she needs to vent. In my view, Levi and Levi's love are like a solid cliff; no matter how fiercely the sea roars and crashes against it, he won't falter. This man is a pillar; good luck trying to make him crumble.

I can picture him holding her in his arms after a particularly rough night, his calloused hands gently running through her hair, rocking her slowly, and saying, "Shh, it's alright. Everything is alright, I'm here. Nobody can hurt you when I'm here."

Levi has his personal fears of not being able to protect her as much as promises, but there's no time for him to show his doubts. Perhaps he'll try to lighten the mood a little when she seems calmer, saying, "Nobody messes up with me, aint that true? ...Well, maybe you. I always let you get on my last nerve, you're lucky that I adore you."

Hope that's good enough T-T I feel like on certain topics, I'll never be able to do them justice because they are very tricky scenarios. That's why I have a personal rule in my writing not to delve into PTSD and sexual assault because I personally think those are much more serious and tricky subjects. I feel like sometimes on social media or in fanfiction, they can be heavily romanticized, and I don't think that's something we should romanticize. But that's just my personal opinion and why I avoid writing about those topics.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Summary: Tommy's ambitions take them to new heights, but not without consequences looming on the horizon.

Word Count: 4,005

Warnings: Sexual content and references to torture and pregnancy. Bit of a bittersweet ending here, so sorry about that!

Notes: I originally considered including some more detailed aspects--even potentially a full chapter--detailing Lizzie's pregnancy and Ruby's birth, but I have tokophobia, and just wasn't comfortable going into that much detail regarding that topic. So apologies to anyone who wanted to see more of that. And I promise that the Lizzie drama is only just beginning, and will be a big part of the next couple parts, so please consider checking those out once they're posted if you're interested in seeing a continuation of that aspect of the story.

Also, I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has read this story. This is to date the biggest single fic I have ever written, and the support you have given me means so much. I promise to have more featuring Tommy and Lucy out very soon!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 29: Shake Hands with the Devil

Returning to work had been the right idea.

Already, Lucy was starting to feel better, work helping to drive the dark thoughts that had been plaguing her lately to the back of her mind. They were still there, but they weren’t nearly as loud as they once were. 

Tommy’s new plan required a good amount of logistics and organizing, both of which she was eager to take on. And another action, one somewhat less desirable, but just as necessary. 

She was surprised at just how easy it was to get Jessie to give up the name of the leader of the cell. All it took was a kiss from Tommy and a declaration that he wanted to help her cause to have information already spilling from her lips. 

But then again, Tommy always seemed to have that effect on women. And Jessie, despite how she may have presented herself, was desperate for connection.

“You alright?” Tommy asked, after Jessie had left the office with the promise that they’d meet up later.

“I feel a little bad for what we’re doing to her,” Lucy sighed, leaning back into him while his hands rested on her upper arms, chin settling on the top of her head.

“If you really don’t want to go through with it, we can figure something else out–”

“No, it’s fine.” She turned around in his arms to face him, resting her head on his chest, leaning into the warmth of his body. 

It was a shitty thing, what they were doing to Jessie. But fucking her was necessary to ensure her loyalty until the election was done. And to maintain the steady stream of information she could provide them about the communists–at least, that’s what Lucy was going to keep telling herself in order to be able to sleep at night. 

“Just…” she worried on her bottom lip, feeling Tommy’s hand settle protectively on the back of her head. “Promise me that you won’t come in her.” She didn’t need to specify as to why, feeling him tense a little against her of the reminder of Lizzie and her approaching due date. 

“I promise.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “We really should talk about what you want to do about Lizzie.”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated, unsure as to how she could properly broach the subject to him, feeling a tear begin to cleave its way through her heart in response to what she was about to suggest. Even as she forced the words to come out. 

“You should marry her.”

Tommy jerked back, staring at her with a furrowed brow, frown pulling his lips downwards. “What?”

“You can’t be unmarried with an illegitimate child if you want to move into politics, Tommy.” Knowing him, winning the position of MP was just the beginning. He had big things ahead of him. “You have to project the right kind of image. And if you want to be able to be involved in any sort of significant way with the baby…”

“But I love you,” he said softly. “If I’m going to marry anyone–”

“It needs to be the mother of your child,” Lucy finished for him stubbornly. He shot her a wounded look. 

“I don’t want to marry her.”

We don’t always get what we want, she thought, but bit her tongue. If things had been different, maybe it could have been her that he would marry. But they weren’t. 

“And besides, what about you?” he pressed.

“I think that I’m a small price to pay for the betterment of your child’s life and your career.”

The hurt in his eyes deepened. “Well I don’t!”

“Tommy…”

“We’re not talking about this,” his jaw twitched unhappily as he shook his head, turning towards his desk.

“Sweetheart, please…”

“I’m not giving you up.” That stubborn sharpness entered his eyes, jaw setting, and she knew that she would get nowhere with him on the subject. At least not yet. He’d have to see with his own eyes that she was right before he budged on it. 

She sighed. The last thing that she wanted to do at the moment was fight with him. “Alright.”

They did not speak of the matter again. Though it lingered in the air between them like a ghost. 

∗ ∗ ∗

They laid side by side in the narrow bed, Tommy in the middle with Lucy on one side of him, Jessie on the other. He was thumbing at his brow with one hand, staring up at the ceiling while Jessie slipped out from under the sheets to go get dressed. Lucy watched her lazily, shifting to tuck herself more closely into Tommy’s side. His arm dropped to wrap around her shoulders, fingers tracing over her back. She shifted nearer to him, suddenly needing the closeness.

“You okay?” Tommy whispered to her in the dark. When she didn’t respond right away, his voice grew a little strained with worry. “Lucy?”

“‘M okay,” she said, nestling her head more firmly on his chest, eyes still watching Jessie carefully. They could not talk while she was in the room with them. At least not really. 

She ached pleasantly between her legs from having him buried inside her but only a few moments ago. And while the pleasure from the orgasm he’d given her was still rushing through her veins, she was coming down from it rapidly, crashing back to earth in an unpleasant plunge. 

It would appear that Lizzie’s pregnancy had more or less killed a lot of the enjoyment that threesomes once held for her. She’d felt an unfamiliar surge of anxiety as they’d taken Jessie to bed, the kind that sex normally helped to dull. But this time the tumultuous, overwhelming feelings only seemed to grow as she watched Tommy fuck their new lover. Even though he’d kept his promise and not emptied himself inside of Jessie, the threat of yet another unintended accident from their liaison had set her so on edge that she found it almost impossible to fully lose herself even in Tommy’s familiar kisses and touches.

She was pretty sure that he was able to sense her nervousness, but whether he was able to guess the actual reason, or thought that she was just anxious because this was the first threesome they’d had since what had happened with Luca, she wasn’t sure. Either way, despite Jessie being the primary focus of the evening, he was being notably attentive towards her, eyes constantly darting over to check on her throughout, warm mouth seeking out her skin in attempts to pull her out of her own head. 

He was looking at her that same way now, a slight crease forming between his brows. Lucy offered him a weak smile that only caused the look of concern to deepen, his other arm joining the first in wrapping around her so that he was hugging her tightly. Lucy squeezed him back, closing her eyes and burying her face in his chest. As if by doing so she could somehow hide away from the entire world. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy left his meeting with Arthur Bigge in high spirits. It had taken some convincing, but all his conditions had been met. Everything was going according to plan. 

Well, not everything. Lucy was still worrying him. She was doing considerably better than she had been during their holiday, but she still wasn’t wholly herself. 

She used to smile and laugh so easily. Even at the absolute worst of his jokes, or with the smallest little bit of teasing, and he could have her giggling, trying to shield it behind one of her hands even as her mossy green eyes lit up, entire face crinkling with mirth.

But nowadays, a melancholic aura had draped over her, seeming to cling to her skin, casting a film of sorrow over her eyes. Of course Tommy did not expect her to go back to the way that things were before Luca. But it killed him to see her so despondent and broken. 

He missed hearing her laugh. 

What he would give to make it all better for her. To pull the sadness out of her eyes. Take it into himself, if he had to. Just so long as she didn’t have to carry it anymore. 

She was still having nightmares and the occasional panic attack, as was to be expected. He had been worried originally that all the work that came along with preparing for the election would cause her too much stress. Especially with how fragile she still was. But if anything the work seemed to help, so he let her be. 

But her comments about how he should marry Lizzie had struck a nerve in him, planting a seed of dread in his chest. He had always assumed if he were to ever marry again after Grace, it would be to Lucy. No one else. Especially not Lizzie.              

He had meant what he’d said. He wasn’t letting her go. He’d rather burn his reputation and even the entire bloody company to the ground before he even considered something like that. But his Lucy seemed incapable of understanding that, and he was beginning to grow more and more worried that no matter how much he tried to reassure her, she was doubting her place at his side.

When he first brought up the idea of running for MP, she had asked him what was to become of her position as his assistant after he took office. The question had taken him aback. It had seemed so obvious to him that she would come with him. He’d hardly given it any real thought. Wherever he went, so did she. That was how things had always been, and he had no intention of changing them. Her worries seemed only somewhat abated when he smiled and coyly told her that MPs still needed assistants. It wasn’t long before she was fretting over the possibility of rumors spreading regarding their relationship and tarnishing his reputation. 

As if his reputation was not already drenched in blood and mud. 

He’d just grinned and kissed her temple, trying to appear relaxed and unbothered by any of it. Hoping that if he did, it would help to soothe her. 

“Most politicians are sleeping with their secretaries, love. We won’t exactly be unique in that regard,” he’d told her. It seemed to have calmed her concerns enough. At least for the moment. 

Adjusting the grip on his briefcase, he pushed out of the door and stepped into the crisp fresh air. Glancing around, he frowned when he didn’t spot Lucy on the bench where he’d left her before going in for the meeting. Bigge had wanted to meet with just him alone, and while Tommy had been inclined to kick up a fuss about it until he let Lucy accompany him, she’d insisted that he shouldn’t risk irritating Bigge just so she could be in the room while they struck their deal. 

He hadn’t been particularly happy about it, but ultimately he had to admit that she had a point. 

Looking around, a beat of panic tightened in his throat at no sight of her distinctive crimson hair. His heart started to pound hard in his chest. No. No, no, no, no…he’d just left her there for a second, she’d been armed, there were dozens of people around, surely she couldn’t have been just snapped up right off the street…

His head swiveled around, scanning the people passing by him. Maybe he’d just missed her. She was so short, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that he’d just lost her in the crowd of people.

He was just beginning to properly panic when he heard his voice at his elbow. 

“How did it go?”

He whirled, eyes wide, chest still heaving with the startings of his panic attack, to find her standing there none the worse for wear, black coat pulled in tight around her.

Relief hit him like a blast to the face, and it took all his self control not to seize her in his arms and squeeze her tight to him. Instead he just let out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. His eyes closed as he steadied himself, taking the time to remind himself that she was there and she was fine.

He opened his eyes again to find her still looking up at him, head cocked curiously. “Where were you?” he demanded, tone perhaps a bit sharper than he’d intended. 

“I got bored, so I went for a walk.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s just…you weren’t here and I…” he huffed. “It’s alright. C’mon,” he indicated with his head towards the car that he’d parked on the edge of the curb. He held open the door for her, then slipped in after she’d gotten settled in the passenger seat. Setting his briefcase down and closing the door behind him, he turned to look at her. There was an odd bulge in the front of her coat. His eyes narrowed. The bulge twitched. “What’s that?”

Lucy clutched her coat tighter to her body, blinking up at him innocently. “What’s what?”

“What’s wrong with your coat?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her coat meowed. Tommy raised an eyebrow. Lucy pouted, letting the garment fall open to reveal a tiny little black and orange tortoiseshell kitten hidden underneath, blinking up at him with scrutinizing green eyes. 

“What the bloody hell is that?”

Lucy stroked the little animal’s head. “It’s a kitten, Tommy. Surely you’ve heard of them before.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know what a kitten is, Lucy. What’s it doing tucked in your coat?”

“I heard her crying in the alley behind the bench I was sitting at. And when I went to look, she was soaking wet and shivering all alone in this little box. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“The fuck are we going to do with a stray kitten, Luce?”

She shrugged. “We can keep her at the house. She could help with the mice problem.”

“We don’t have a mice problem.”

“And now that we have a cat, we never will.”

He eyed the kitten warily, still feeling like she was sharply analyzing him. Her little tail flicked back and forth, paws kneading at Lucy’s thighs. When Lucy scratched at the top of her head, she angled her face up, and batted at her playfully with one soft paw. Lucy giggled. 

Tommy looked up sharply at the sound, biting the inside of his cheek to try to maintain his serious facade even as he felt himself soften at the sight of her smiling down at the cat. 

“And you immediately assumed that I’d be alright with this?” he asked, the amusement obvious in his voice.

“You don’t have much of a choice.” Lucy flashed him a grin before her attention returned to the kitten, who’d curled up into a ball on her lap. Tommy raised an eyebrow, fond smile threatening to break containment as it tugged on the edges of his lips. 

“No?”

Lucy looked up at him, a challenge entering her eyes. “You knocked someone else up.”

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. “You know what–that’s fair.”

She snickered, leaning forward to peck his cheek to let him know that there was no real bite to her words. Tugging off one of his gloves, he held his hand out to the cat. She sniffed at his knuckles, whiskers twitching with consideration, and then rubbed her cheek against his hand. 

“She likes you.”

“Mm.” He gave her a few scratches under the chin, begrudgingly admitting to himself that the kitten was pretty fucking cute. And Lucy was right; the least he could do was let her keep the cat. “We’ll have to get her checked out by the vet before we take her home.” 

“Of course. Who knows what she might’ve gotten into living on the streets. Poor baby.”

Tommy let his hand stroke over the kitten’s back. She was so little, he could probably have fit her in one palm when she was all curled up. He felt a slight buzz under his hand as she started purring. He could feel Lucy watching them both fondly. 

“So it went well?”

“Hm?”

“The meeting with Bigge. Did it go alright?”

He smiled at her softly. “Yes; it went alright.” 

Her face lit up, leaning into him. “Good.”

He turned his face to catch her lips with his, kissing her gently in celebration.

Between them, the kitten meowed. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Don’t you dare.”

Lucy grinned to herself as she approached Tommy’s office, hearing his voice even before she pushed open the heavy wooden door. She was greeted with the sight of the kitten perched on his desk, her little paw batting his box of matches closer and closer to the edge, her head cocked with intrigue. 

Her green eyes peered over at him, holding his gaze, and promptly batted the box onto the floor. Tommy sighed, reaching across to scoop the little monster up and plop her down onto his lap. “You’re gonna be a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” But he was smiling to himself, a dimple appearing in his cheek when the kitten meowed in agreement. 

Lucy smiled as she stepped fully into the office, walking over to set down a fresh stack of papers onto his desk. “Need you to sign these.” She collapsed back into a chair across from him as he plucked up a pen. 

Her hand raised to rest against the side of her face as she watched him. With every passing day, the election drew nearer, and with it, her anxiety grew. 

She’d been keeping an ear to the ground, regarding anything that might hinder him winning. But so far, with all the careful bribing and other methods of rigging that they’d implemented holding strong, it seemed like it would be an easy path to victory.

But there were some rumblings regarding Lizzie and the pregnancy that had started to spread. Lucy was pretty sure that they could keep them suppressed at least until the election was over. But not indefinitely.

It was going to become a problem.

She supposed it was almost funny, in a way. How being unmarried with an illegitimate child was likely to cause more harm to his reputation than being a notorious gangster. 

They needed to address it. Figure out what they were going to do. And the longer that they took, the more damage the whole situation was likely to cause. 

The kitten jumped into her lap, curling up with a soft purr. Lucy let her hand stroke mindlessly through her black and orange fur.   

“Tommy?”

He looked up at her through the glinting lenses of his glasses, eyebrow raised, papers still clutched between his fingers. 

“Yes?”

She’d been reluctant to bring up the subject ever since he so thoroughly shut her down the last time over it. But if she was being truly honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason why she’d so willingly let it go.

She didn’t want him to marry Lizzie. And she sure as hell did not want to let him go. 

We’ve still got some time. We don’t need to do anything about it yet.

She swallowed hard, feeling like the worst, most selfish scum on the earth, even as she forced a wobbly smile on her face. 

“Never mind.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Time passed at seemingly the speed of light. And before she knew it, she was standing next to Tommy, the rest of the family–except for Lizzie who had to wait outside with the baby–crowded around him. They were all waiting with baited breath as the results of the election were announced over the loudspeaker. Lucy could feel her guts twisting nauseatingly inside her with nerves, heart leaping into her throat. 

It had been an insane handful of months, and they’d all seemingly passed within the blink of an eye. She didn’t even know where all the time had gone. 

Not long before the election took place, Lizzie gave birth to a baby girl, already bestowed the name Ruby by Polly before her arrival into the world.  

And oh, did Tommy love that little girl. 

It was heartwarming to see him fall so deeply in love with her, and every moment spent watching him with her made Lucy’s heart jump. 

But God, did it also hurt.

She kept her melancholy and jealousy over the gorgeous little family he now had with Lizzie tucked down deep and away, where no one would ever find it. Ruby was a sweet baby, and she deserved nothing but good things in life. And Lucy did love her. Enough that she was more than prepared to walk away forever if she had to in order to give that girl a chance at growing up with a proper family around her. 

She knew it made Tommy sad, to not be able to see her all the time. Ruby and Lizzie still lived at the home Tommy had bought for them, and while he visited when he could, he still did not get to see his daughter as often as he would if she lived at Arrow House. 

They still had not had the conversation about what to do regarding that situation long-term. She’d tried to bring up the idea of him and Lizzie getting married again a handful of times, especially after Ruby’s birth, but Tommy still wouldn’t hear of it. 

A part of her was worried that, despite the promising polls, his personal life would hinder his victory. And it would all be her fault. Because she had been selfish and decided to try to hold onto him, even though the selfless thing–the responsible thing–would have been to let him go so he could build a proper personal life to go along with his new ambitions. 

A huge breath of relief left her when his name was announced over the loudspeaker, a wide smile quickly replacing the look of apprehension that had been there a moment prior. She hugged Tommy back tightly in celebration when he engulfed her in his arms, briefly forgetting that she was trying to behave more distantly towards him in public. Like a mere colleague rather than a lover. To try to save his reputation before the rumor mill fully caught wind of their affair and ran with it. 

“I now declare Thomas Shelby to be the new Labor Member of Parliament for the constituency of Birmingham South,” the announcer boomed for all to hear. Not just in the room that they were all crowded in to hear the results, but across the entire bloody country. 

Cheers erupted, everyone in the family swarming around him, all smiles and uninhibited joy. They soon made their way to the doors, out to where Lizzie was waiting with Ruby clutched in her arms. Tommy beamed as he scooped Ruby up, lifting her high above his head, the baby squealing and giggling in delight. Lucy smiled at the display and the baby’s happy coos as her father adjusted her to rest on his hip and carry her with him down the rest of the stairs. But her smile quickly fell when she spotted Lizzie flashing a truly snide smirk at Jessie where she was standing in the crowd. A tendril of trepidation coiled itself around her, wondering if she would be on the receiving end of such a look sooner or later. Lizzie had been behaving decently towards her as of late, but she was not fool enough to expect that to last.

She followed Tommy and Lizzie down the stairs, lingering back to let them both go first, walking side by side with their baby while she trailed behind them; alone. 

And despite their current string of good fortune, of endless possibilities and new doors opening up before them, she found herself struggling to muster up any real hope for the future. 

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[myfictionaldreams]

To the question about moving in with mafia Steve:

Did she had a space or place that she really liked? Like the Libary or the fireplace?

If she does… would Steve find her there often? 🥺

Aww, I actually love this question (thank you for asking it!) This all takes place following the fic 'Last Hope' from my Mafia!Stucky series.

It was difficult at first, the realisation of the previous day's actions had caused tears to fall, and thankfully Bucky was able to handle the cleanup from the events of ‘last hope’, so Steve could stay with her. The entire first day was spent in bed, aching from the fighting that had occurred but also the fucking which was actually a way that she used to distract herself. She was sore from her first time, but that didn’t mean that Steve didn’t use his mouth or fingers to make her cum multiple times until she was a wet puddle in the middle of his bed.

Once she made it out of the bedroom, it took a few hours to find her way around without Steve’s directions. It was odd for her to now call this new building her home but it also strangely felt right.

The first week was honestly a mix between grieving her past life, celebrating her new one and attempting to build it. This included meeting new members of the gang, understanding their job roles and where she would come into play regarding this but that was a decision for another time. Especially when she realised she couldn’t just wear Steve’s clothes for the rest of her life and he promptly treated her to a shopping spree that had even the shop owners’ eyes bulging with the amount of money Steve was willing to spend on his girl.

Once she became used to her new home, there were a few places that she’d like to be to unwind and create a safe space. Baking special treats for the gang members soon won her good graces into Bucky’s books as he was soon begging her to cook something new each and every time he saw her. She liked to also spend time in the garden however the weather was becoming more chilled so inside was where she spent most of her time.

In the new relationship, she didn’t want to be away from the safety that Steve provided, so one day, she followed him into his at-home office which was lavish and yet homely, decorations and warm colours greeting her on entry. Steve showed her to one of the quant little armchairs that faced his desk, a velvet cushioned seat with a plump decorative pillow.

She chose the chair on the left and hugged the pillow to her chest, idly chatting away with Steve about who was on the pictures on his walls. This continued for hours, and she even managed to doze off in the chair, she found it that comfortable. For the next few days, she returned to the chair, sometimes with a book in hand or a freshly baked pastry, as she enjoyed simply just being in Steve’s company.

Steve was enjoying it just as much and liked that he could keep an eye on her whilst doing all the admin that came with being the boss. Once, Bucky arrived at the home, the three of them walked up to Steve’s office, where he sat in the left armchair.

“Buck, sit in the other chair”, Steve mumbled under his breath without a single thought, talking as if on instinct that even seeing someone else in that chair just wasn’t right.

Bucky didn’t question the motives and simply stood, and sat in the other chair so she could quickly plop into the seat that was officially hers. Eventually, it became her safe space. If she was feeling overwhelmed with the life changes or needed to vent to Steve in some way, she could come to her chair. Even when he wasn’t home, she could sit in the office, some quiet music and a fluffy blanket and curl up into it, hugging the pillow until Steve came home and he could sit on the floor beside her and ask if everything was ok.

It was a big adjustment moving in with Steve however, it was one that she never regretted, and she was just lucky that the home and he, was so easy to fall in love with.