#remember when his talk about his mental health and his past and his add felt real

[comediakaidanovsky]

at this point i'm just like, what does mjf even want his character to be? what does he think he's doing, and what kind of story and character arc is he visualizing for himself?

it's also really helped me put words to why i've deeply disliked so many of the friendship-focused aew storylines, because for some reason, this roster's only way of portraying friendship is to do children's tv acting? like you have a group of characters with complex motivations who, when in conflict or acting as heels show a wide range of emotion and conflicting wants and needs, and then when they're supposed to be motivated by friendship they suddenly get the emotional intelligence and range of five year olds. "i'm crying cause i hurt my leg, i want bandaid for my boo-boo, i like to wrestle when my best friend in the whole wide world is watching, if my friend hangs out with other people i'm sad, oh my god what if my best friend and i break up that would be the saddest thing ever, aren't you on the edge of your seat to find out if we'll still be friends next week" like what the fuck

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

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

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.”

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting—”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[crunchystarz]

"A Distant Memory I Used to Know"

Chapter - 2 EyelessJack x GNreader

Previous - chapter index

CW- none

Summary: After you drop your brother off at school you run into that same masked man from a few days ago.

Word count: 2429

“We've been looking more into the recent rise in the numbers of murders taking place in our ci-"

With a click the TV powered off. You needed to not listen to the news, for your own sake you told yourself. Placing the remote back on the counter you let out a sigh.

You don't need anything else to feed your paranoia. You haven't been able to sleep much after the convenience store incident. You felt like you were going insane. It was just some random guy, so why was it driving you crazy?

You hated that one small thing that messed with your head so much.

It's just one guy. One weird masked guy. You felt as if you saw that mask before. Like you know it from somewhere.

Who are you kidding? You needed to call your therapist and see if any spots opened up sooner than your initial date.

"What do you think would happen if a fox were to drink an entire can of soda?" A chirpy voice said from behind you.

Hunter rested his head in his hands. You chuckled and ruffled through his scruffy black hair still slightly damp from his shower. He swatted you away while laughing.

“Foxes don't have opposable thumbs. How would they drink from a can? " You playfully questioned swiftly turning around and flipping the pancake to cook it on the other side.

“Well I never said it had to come from a can just it was the amount that was in a can! Plus it could have knocked it over” The boy playfully bantered back.

You let out a fake hurt gasp before putting your hand on your hip giving him a glare. “Getting sassy with me now Mr, Bold maybe I shouldn't add chocolate chips to your pancakes”

“Nooo” Hunter said, flopping his upper body on the counter, head down.

“That's what I thought” You chuckled gently hitting him on the head with your spatula.

Hunter was one of the only good things in your life that came from your past. You were adopted into a middle class white family when you were 4. Your parents weren't really in your life much however. Growing up you were convinced they only had adopted you for tax benefits.

They weren't physically abusive however they played a massive part in your poor mental health growing up. They didn't go to things like school graduations or after school club things. They never got you anything for Christmas only every other birthday you'd get a happy birthday card as a rushed gift.

They never knew how to take care of things like your hair which you learned all by yourself through lots of trial and era and almost killing it tons of times.

Things like this led to your already poor social skills dropping so low they were basically non-existent. You hated talking to most people and your friends never lasted long.

Except for one boy. You don't remember much about him because a lot of your life is a blur but he was nice and stuck with you throughout highschool as you recall.

Hunter was their golden child. Their first blood child. He was spoiled for the first two years of his life until your mom passed due to unfortunate circumstances.

Your mom was always the more responsible one. She worked a ton and did a lot of the financial work. She tried more with you yet wasn’t super active in your life.

Unlike your father who was always a complete snob. He was a college dropout who stayed home. Sometimes you'd even wonder how any one can put up with that man

Your dad got a new girlfriend pretty fast after your mother's death. Things got worse and your father payed no attention to Hunter after that.

You adored your brother however, he was a good kid with a kind heart. So you were more than happy to basically be the one to raise him for a little bit until you went off to college.

You and Hunter had a 15 year age gap but you two were still extremely close. Your brother got you and helped you stay grounded.

With you having your own place and all you could take care of Hunter more often. Unfortunately for legal reasons you couldn't keep the kid all the time and you've sometimes debated on trying to get full custody over him but you knew it probably wouldn't end well.

Despite only being 12 Hunter was extremely smart. He for the most part understood your weird traumatized brain and was a big help when it came to calming you down other than the pills. He really was your only family.

"Who do you think would win million Pikachus or Godzilla?" The raven hair asked, reaching for the syrup bottle that was on the farther end of the counter. You put the plate of hot pancakes on the surface before pushing the maple syrup closer to the boy.

"How about we stop talking and eat ,hurry before you're late for school" You chuckled to yourself. Hunter pouted but started to dig in anyway.

You went to clean up your batter mess you made in the kitchen. You'd need to change before you left the apartment because your shirt was now covered in dried up pancake mix. You usually didn't make big breakfasts like these but you'd do anything for your brother.

You went off to get changed while Hunter finished up breakfast. It was getting significantly colder so you made sure to put it on your mental list to get Hunter a new winter jacket.He was tall for his age.He had a huge growth spurt a few months ago yet his voice was still as squeaky as can be. His new height difference meant he needed new clothes and you wanted to make sure he stays warm during the upcoming winter.

You two left your apartment after two checks to make sure he had everything. Hunter went on ahead before you, skipping down the steps that led to your apartment which was on the second floor.

You locked up your door, again making sure to lock both the bottom and the top. A familiar meow from a few days rang through your ears. You looked down to see the kitten from before under your legs. It meow and rubbed your leg. Your heart basically melted.

"Hey buddy nice to see you again...I hope you're keeping warm- I can't stay long though" You said to the cat who obviously didn't understand what you were saying just appreciated the chin scratches it received from you.

You realized you should head off before Hunter got inpatient and threatened to eat your entire kitchen again. You gave the chestnut colored cat one last pat before hurrying to catch up with your younger brother.

Hunter's school is luckily in a good distance for you to walk from and back to. This helps save gas whenever he was over on days he had school. You smiled as the younger boy walked on the sidewalk occasionally kicking a fallen leaf.

When you two got to middle school you made sure to do your little "don't get into any trouble" speech before shooing the boy. He gave you a hug before sprinting off when he saw one of his friends. You smiled to yourself as you went to walk in the direction you had came from.

You hummed a random tune as you slowly strolled along the concrete. You weren't in a rush to go anywhere so you could take in the calm scenery. It wasn't an extremely pretty sight as you were just walking through your neighborhood but it was an early morning in the beginning of fall. You were allowed to appreciate the small things.

Your body tensed up but you never stopped walking. There it was again. You couldn't catch a break could you? The feeling of eyes on you was back. It made your skin itch. It made you want to sprint home and get under your covers where you felt safe.

You're just being paranoid again [ name] just like you always are there is no one watc-

Your brain circuited as you felt something hard bump into you. Well more so you bumped into it. A person. Once you collected yourself from your mini shock. God you were all over the place, You fully realized you bumped into a person. A person. A human being.

"Holy shit I am so sorry I wasn't paying attention I-" You blurted out an jumbled up apology. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat. Just like the first time your heart skipped a beat. It felt...sickly. A discomforting feeling of familiarity washed over you.

You were met with silence from the same hooded man from the other day. The same masked weirdo that was like a plague to your mind. That mask. Against you felt as if you've seen it before. The thought made your stomach twist. You soon realized how tall the brunette was exactly. You had to basically step back to look at him properly. He was so tall it almost felt... unnatural.

You got a better look at the man from last time. He was lanky and scruffy looking. You couldn't make out any facial features as he wore a mask. A blue mask covered in some unknown goop. It looked more dried out than the last time you saw it. Maybe it was paint. He wore the basic black hoodie like before and tattered jeans. His shoes were beat up and definitely have seen better days.

The way he looked at you made you cold. You swallowed and subconsciously made yourself look bigger. That damn mask. It would make any normal person uncomfortable but man it felt as if the empty sockets of the eyes were just staring into you.

You were snapped out of your trance when you heard him clear his throat. "No its fine I wasn't paying attention as much as you were..." That british accent called out.

The second time you heard him speak. His voice didn't match his creepy appearance. While it was extremely monotone it was strangely calming. You wanted to say something so bad.

You didn't know why just something made you want to. Maybe you thought talking to him would make him leave your brain completely and you'd give your mind some closer that we was just some weirdo walking around. Just as he started to continue his way down the street.

"Hey um uh-"

You didn't know what to say. He stopped. That's good. You hoped anyway. He turned on his heel and faced you again. He tilted his head in an almost animalistic way. As if he was showing you he was listening, waiting for you to continue. While he stared at you, that weird feeling of being watched came back. You swallowed a lump of air.

"Do you live around here?... I haven't seen you around here is what I meant-" You stopped yourself from talking you sounded like a mess. You felt embarrassed. You honestly didn't know what to say. You started rethinking why you even stopped him. You really had no reason other than you couldn't get this stranger out of your head. You felt absolutely insane.

He's literally just some weirdo that you so happened to run into twice. A weirdo that you for some unknown reason feel like you know. A stranger. A stranger in a mask. Calm yourself.

"Do you…remember me too?”

Your thoughts halted when he spoke up again. You didn't get to catch what he said because you were so wrapped up in your own head. You felt bad and gave him a weak smile.

" I'm sorry, what was that?"

…

" It was nothing I just had said you're that same person from the other day is all. It's funny running into you again especially because I don't necessarily live around here" He supposedly repeated with a shrug. You let out a sigh of relief and chuckled a little to yourself. You really are getting yourself worked up over nothing.

He is just some weirdo.

"sorry for um you know stopping you out of nowhere i just don't know i couldn't get you out of my head- wait no that sound creepy it's just you have a strange.... appearance? I'm just making this worse for myself aren't I" You awkwardly laughed. To your surprise the masked man let out a laugh. This calmed your nerves a little bit.

"I get it not everyday you see someone who looks like...well me I guess. Just walking around in broad daylight like some kind of freak " He replied in his monotone voice. You two just stared at each in silence for a bit. He cleared his throat before nodding his head.

"I should go...stay safe out here with all these murders and all"

"y-yeah um you too"

The brunette walked away with a quick wave goodbye. Maybe he was some psychopath your brain tricked you into thinking you knew after all.

You ran your tongue across your bottom row of teeth before taking a deep breath. You needed a nap, or an entire tub of ice cream. Both. Both would be needed.

You turned on your heels before making your way home. You listened to your footsteps as you walked up your apartment stairs.

You were stopped yet again but a now familiar fur ball. The tiny cat watched you as you unlocked the door to your home. You thought it was going to run off again but instead it let it into the building. You blinked as it turned to you and let out a meow.

"This is not your house, all though I might have to just name you if you keep showing up like this" You basically scolded the kitten.

It meowed at you again as if it was talking back to you. You put your hands on your hip and stared down at the creature. "You're adorable but you need out" You said as if it understood you, you pointed to the open door.

It just meowed again and walked farther into your home. You let out a sigh. You were to mentally and physically exhausted to chase a kitten out of your home. You shut your front door and promised yourself you'd deal with the kitten who was now rubbing itself all over your couch later.

—

"What happened to you?"

....

"stay back"

"please..."

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

omg hi babe it's been so fucking long im not even sure if you remember me but how are you love omg 💗

i had like the worst fucking day ever and lately my mental health has been so fucking horrible and i just wanted to see if you could write a cute little fic ab reader having a horrible day and accidentally snapping at peter quill abt it and feeling annoyed by him a bit. you can write it whenever you want mwah 🫶🫶

but how are you doing omg ive been keeping up w u and your drabbles are so fucking cute omg 😭💗💗

ily mwah

-🎡

hii!! AAAH!! ofc I remember you, ive missed you omg!! im really sorry you’ve been having a hard time bby, I hope this can be of some comfort to you. I got a little carried away as I love comfort fics sm and must admit I kinda needed it too😭 but im doing good, hope things are going well for you too (or as well as they can) you’re so sweet thank you😩 ily angel💗 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

got your back

peter quill x fem!reader

word count: 807

warnings: little angsty? reader snaps at quill and mentions of reader being insecure in the relationship. fluffy ending

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

Peter has many admirable qualities, the most endearing being his deep-rooted ability to empathise. You adored how he cares so deeply about others, especially the ones he loves most. It was one of the things that drew you to him the most. 

Lately, you have been having a rough time, so to speak, and things weren't going in your favour. Your boyfriend, Peter, was aware and did everything he could for you to feel better, even if it was only for a little while.

Every day was different. Some days were easier, others, not so much, and it just so happened that today was one of the more difficult days. It was the kind of day where everything went wrong. The day where your clothes get caught in every door handle, the kind where you drop everything you hold. The sort of day that leaves you with an empty pit in your stomach when you finally catch a minute alone. 

Peter was always so kind and patient with you that it often made you question what you did to deserve him. For you, he's loving and caring, sweet and funny, the perfect combination of all the best traits a person could have. 

You felt overwhelmed with many things and the self-doubt that Peter would find someone better than you weighed heavy on your mind. You were in your bedroom alone, door closed, curtains shut with your head in your palms. 

A soft knock on your door interrupts you from your thoughts. "Hey, honey? Everything okay?" Peter asks through the door, his tone full of warmth.

"Yeah," you reply shortly, burying your face in your arms.

"Are you sure? You can talk to me," he says. "I'm right here."

"Yes, I'm sure," you respond with more bite, growing frustrated.

"Okay, I'm here if you need me," he adds, speaking just as sweetly as before despite your harsh tone.

"I'm fine, just go away!" you snap, throwing a pillow at the door. "Fuck off, just leave me alone."

You didn't have to see his face to know how much your words had hurt him. You regret the sentence as soon as they slipped past your lips, but it was too late. You said them, and they can’t be unsaid. 

"Okay," he whispers, tapping on the door as a farewell.

It felt like it had all just got a whole lot worse, and you just tarnished the one thing that made it easier to cope. The guilt was eating you up, and all you wanted to do was apologise. But you told him to leave, so why would he still be here?

You pace your room for a few minutes, gathering your words for an apology while momentarily cursing yourself out. You were scrounging for ways to make it up to him and patch over the mess you made.

With a small pep talk and a final nod, you open your door and see Peter sitting on the floor beside the door, leaning against the wall with crossed legs.

"Hi," you smile weakly.

"Hey," he smiles, an airy tone to his voice, speaking like he finally got his breath back. "I'm sorry— I shouldn't have pushed you. I know how you get. It’s the last thing I wanted—" he anxiously gushes, talking like he had practiced it. 

You interrupt, shaking your head. "No, please don't do that. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all my fault— I'm so sorry. I should have never spoken to you like that. It all got too much, and I couldn't— I'm just really sorry," you profess, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. 

"I know, honey," he replies, nodding understandingly. 

"You're too good to me," you whisper, avoiding his green gaze. "I'm just not used to it."

"I'm still here, baby and I ain't gonna leave you," he says, looking up at you with sweet doeful eyes. "I'm not leaving you like the others." 

He extends an arm, his hand reaching for yours as he guides you closer, gently tugging you downwards. He nods at his lap, so you straddle his crossed legs, pressing your chest to his, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him tighter. His big, warm arms encase you and his hand brushes comforting strokes down your back, as his other clutches the back of your head, holding you like he's protecting you. 

You bury your face further into the crook of his neck, silently weeping and embracing him tighter. "I love you," you mumble against his skin, playing with the curls behind his ears. 

"I love you," he smiles, pulling back to look at you. He wipes under your eyes, softly brushing away your residual tears. He kisses the damp patch of skin beside your nose, looking at you with nothing but admiration. "... so much."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Don’t know if this has been asked or mentioned yet for the Pack but what are their sexualities?

(Love you writing btw ❤️)

"This can be a sensitive subject for a lot of people for quite a few different reasons." You caution immediately, and everyone in the pack nods in agreement. You give a slight smile. "Most of us are very comfortable and settled into our chosen sexualities, so we're comfortable talking about and discussing it, but just know, even if you're not sure where you fall on the scale or are currently dealing with some internalized issues, you are always welcome and safe here with us.

"Yep." Chan nods seriously. "Out of the closet, in the closet, wherever you are currently, we love and support you and your choices and we understand the difficulties and stigmas with deciding and coming to to terms with who you are and how to present that."

"That being said-" You smile a bit bigger now. "I think it's pretty safe to say that we're all part of the queer community here."

"What part of this-" Hyunjin gestures to the other eight members of the pack with amusement. "-looks straight to you?"

You laugh. "So, the whole polyamory thing, that more comes from the wolf side of our genders and personalities. Wolves are not loners, they need a pack, but also, as humans and people, we needed to be okay with that too obviously for this to work."

"Yep." Jisung is nodding now. "Because your wolf side can be all gungho about the idea of a pack, but if you as a person don't believe you can love more than one person at the same time, then you're definitely going to struggle. And that's okay."

"As far as personal sexuality-" You muse, glancing around at the pack. I think we all kind of fall into the same spectrum, but with individual differences and different labels."

"I've known I was bisexual for as long as I can remember." You go on, looking thoughtful. "My parents didn't like the idea at first, but when I had my first girlfriend in high school, they came around. It's always just felt natural for me to find the beauty in both males and females."

"I'm also bi." Changbin adds, nodding his head. "Though unlike (Y/N), I think I fought more with alpha stereotypes for a long time-from myself mostly, but also other people-and that stopped me from really exploring and realizing that truth about myself until I graduated high school and moved away for college."

"And now he's just a fucking flaming queer." Hyunjin teases, grinning at the alpha, as he leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek, Changbin rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, something like that."

"I was kind of a late bloomer as well." Chan cocks his head, considering for a moment. "I didn't realize being bisexual was even an option honestly until I got to high school and met some pretty open minded classmates. I also made the realization coincidentally around the time I first met Felix."

He grins over at the omega and Felix grins back.

"Weird how that happens, huh hyung?"

"Yeah, weird." Chan agrees, grinning even bigger now.

Felix laughs at the head alpha's antics. "I'm bisexual as well. Definitely known since I was a kid, my parents were always super supportive, I was lucky that way. Helping Chan-hyung find out his sexuality in high school was also kind of fun, if you know what I mean."

Jisung guffaws and Chan blushes.

"I'm pansexual, and I think I've cognitively known for a long time." Hyunjin volunteers. "I've always never really cared much about genders-primary or secondary-and always just been attracted to people because of who they are, not what they are."

"Same." Jisung agrees, nodding enthusiastically. "Gender has never mattered to me when it came to partners. In the past or present. I remember when I was first figuring it out, I got a little freaked out, because one day in middle school, I had the thought 'wow, that's kind of hot' in reference to one of my fellow guy friends working out, and I thought I was having some sort of mental health break at thirteen. Turns out I'm just attracted to everyone-no matter the gender-who fits my checklist in personality."

He grins, and Hyunjin laughs in shared sympathy.

"I think I'm also pansexual, honestly." Jeongin interjects thoughtfully, and Jisung gives him an affectionate look across the room. "I used to think` maybe I identified as bisexual like noona and the hyungs, but the more I've grown and learned about myself, the more I can see that I'm attracted to traits and not body parts."

"And that's definitely okay." Chan nods at the youngest encouragingly. "Gender and sexuality is a fluid scale as far as I'm concerned, and you can change or adjust or tweak at any time as you find out more about yourself."

"I'm demisexual." Seungmin announces, shifting slightly to cross his arms over his chest. "You have to win my affection and loyalty by proving to me that we have an emotional connection."

"You also have to compete in a joust." Jisung teases, and the other beta smacks him lightly.

"Physical means nothing to me without the foundation there first." Seungmin continues, ignoring Jisung's jibes. "That's why I told noona 'no, but I could' when she first asked me if I liked her like I liked Changbin. The connection was being built between us, maybe more than study buddies at the time, but it wasn't quite there yet, not enough for me to feel romantic toward her."

"And I appreciated the honest. Even if I cried in the shower about it later." You tease back with a slight smile in the beta's direction.

"I am also demi." Minho shrugs a shoulder casually. "You could be the hottest person on the goddamn planet, but if I don't know you and I don't have anything built with you, I couldn't care less. Big dicks don't impress me if there's not big feelings behind them."

"Get that on a t-shirt." Hyunjin points at Minho, and Jeongin hurriedly whips out his phone and opens his notes app.

"On it, hyung. Writing this down for later reference."

[wrongcaitlyn]

okay so ‼️TW‼️ for this ask and off you do not have to answer or read it if you don’t want to please stay safe!

so. i think once in tyt there was a short reference to nico being suicidal and having self harming/self destructive behaviors. i believe maybe it was after he had to jump off the balcony? and will was like “nico did you do that on purpose” and he’s like “no” and it’s “he kept thinking of the time will caught him” or something like that i’m sorry i can’t look at it rn!

BUT

I was wondering if we’re ever going to get an expansion on that or just any mention of it in general.

me personally i would love too see some scar representation but ofc it is your fic and please don’t feel pressured into anything! i totally get if you don’t want to include anything about this.

and i’m very sorry if this made you uncomfortable or that this was triggering for you.

have a good day! and plz don’t feel rushed to respond! ❤️

yes! you are remembering correctly, and do not worry, this isn't uncomfortable/triggering at all to me! in fact, that's actually one of the reasons it wasn't expanded on - i have no experience with self harm/ thoughts of self harm/ being suicidal, and so even though i made those vague references, i felt very unsure about diving any deeper.

also, i started writing this fic when i was still pretty new to writing in general (or at least, i used to write a lot, and then i took a pretty long break, and then i came back with some one-shots, and this was my first really long project in quite a long time), and so i was just really,,, idk not insecure but i was overly cautious about making sure that i wasn't writing anything wrong, especially because i was writing about things that i had no experience with. like, my family's pretty alright, nowhere near abusive, no alcoholics, and despite the depression my mental health's pretty alright, at least at the time i was writing this - and, obvi, the main thing was that i'm not trans, and yet i was writing a trans mc coming from a very abusive household.

so with all of that, i dropped in these references to his freshman year, and very purposefully didn't start in freshman year because i knew that i wouldn't be able to write that accurately (or, at least, i didn't want to risk writing it inaccurately and portraying these very serious topics in a way that might trigger/offend people who do struggle from these things) and started off the fic in a time where nico was mostly in a much better mental state than the year before, but still struggling with those problems - just not as severely(?) as before.

i'm honestly considering/have been considering going back and editing talk your talk (the og fic) just because i think i've grown a lot as a writer while writing that, and there are a lot of, firstly, tiny grammatical errors, and some scenes that i would like to restructure/fix. i might be able to start that this summer, we'll see!

but ANYWAY to answer your question!! i honestly hadn't thought of going more into that, even though i am adding some more detail to nico's current mental health issues/his ptsd. i'm not completely sure about going into *detail* of it, because of the aforementioned reasons; i just think that these kinds of topics are very sensitive and it's not like the kind of stuff you can just, like, google and understand. if i were to add more about sh/past suicidal thoughts, i would definitely want to do more research/look up accounts of people's experience of it, because i'd want to make sure that i'm writing it correctly and not in a way that would just brush aside any of the details, yk?

i also think that, in a way, nico has completely blocked out that time of his life. it was very dark, and he's experienced even more trauma after that, and so it's just something that he tries really hard to avoid/not think about - even though i do think that he talked to mr. d about it at some point.

so the answer, to be honest, is that i don't know, but it's leaning toward a no. now that i think about it, though, i'm not entirely sure if it's realistic for me to just drop that toward the beginning and then never have nico think about it again- so i would have to do more thinking on the topic! thank you so much for bringing this up to me because even though i do remember mentioning it, i never really think about those early chapters anymore, which dealt with some pretty heavy material, even though i tried to stay very vague about it all.

i think that i'll try to include it at some point, and i do have a scene kind of forming in my head that i think i could put it into, but i don't think it will be very detailed, probably staying in the same lane as everything else that i included in the early chapters of talk your talk! thank you for the ask!!

[nerdieforpedro]

This baggage is heavy, can we drop it off somewhere?

Chapter two of "Do we know how to love?"

Frankie Morales x Nadia Thomas (plus size OFC)

Fanfiction 18+ MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Nadia makes an impulsive but ultimately good decision. We found out a lot more about Frankie’s past. Nadia also decides to just let go.

Warnings: cursing, toxic relationships, angst, thoughts about sex, lengthy mentions of drugs and drug use, Addiction, pregnancy, death, mental health issues, medical issues during pregnancy, 12 step program

Notes: I kinda meant for it to be more lighthearted than it turned out.

Sitting in her driveway, Nadia studied the sticky note. She thought about throwing it away, she should not have this, shouldn’t have even taken it, but she did. Nadia had been swept away in the magnetism of meeting a man like Francisco Morales. Him speaking to her and enticing her with a few sentences was something that Eddie had never been capable of remotely doing, even when they first met years ago. Nadia felt she should just sent a text and break up with Eddie, but it still felt wrong, she preferred to be upfront with him, but it didn’t work well the first time.

“I’m in a relationship I can’t stand. What’s the harm? I’m meeting a new friend. A sexy new friend.” Nadia grinned to herself and got out of the car and went into her house, putting down her purse and hopped in the shower. She texted Kim and Katie and told them that she wasn’t coming she was tired. They texted back playfully mocking her for being a homebody, but hoped that she felt better and that they may stop by this weekend. Nadia told them that she’s working on something, and that she would tell them about it later. The nurse did add the number of her contacts under the name ‘Chocolate curls.’

“Hey hermana, thanks for coming by. I’m have a meeting tonight.” Frankie stated flatly. It was required for him to keep working as a pilot. He may not have to go as often as he once did, but he had to make sure he went and call his manager. Frankie was a hell of a pilot, he could fly a plane, helicopter, jet, anything if you let him tell it, he could also fly a blimp and hot air balloon. The woman was his best friend’s wife, Yovanna, she watched his daughter during his meetings.

The meetings were with cocaine anonymous, a program he entered the year his daughter was born. His wife at the time, Maria had put up a lot from him, with his drug use, being away for long periods of time due to work and a difficult pregnancy to boot. She had been stable on her lithium for years along with lexapro. He remembered the doctors testing her heart to make sure it was okay periodically and it was but when she became pregnant things changed. 

The OBGYN reviewed her medications and said she couldn’t take the lithium anymore, only the lexapro. Maria’s mood swings worsened and she started having high blood pressure during her second trimester. Frankie missed more of her appointments and they fought more which let to him doing more cocaine and picking up more hours while high. It was his own fault he knew, he should have talked to her more and supported her. He did not, one week before his daughter’s birth, he was fired for flying under the influence and nearly crashing a helicopter with some big wigs on it. The very least he could do was provide for Maria financially, but he couldn’t even do that. Maria had been complaining of contractions but her water hadn’t broken yet, Frankie did offer to go to the doctor with her but she didn’t want to, she had her birth plan with a planned home birth, doula and candles that he didn’t understand. 

The pilot had told his wife that he was off to work when really, he was going to snort his cocaine in an industrial parking lot, away from everyone. He received several calls, but drowned them out with the swimming high, riding the waves as he closed his eyes. By the time he was coherent enough to check his phone, there were two missed calls from his wife, two from her doula and five from the hospital. Maria passed out during the home birth after her water broke and her doula had called 911 and tried to get a hold of Frankie as well. When 911 came, it was the doula who went to the hospital with Maria. The medical staff tried contacting Frankie as well but he didn’t answer. They treated her as best they could while Maria went in and out of consciousness, she kept stating that she wanted her baby to be safe and asked if her husband was here. The staff told her that they would do their best and that he was on the way, though no one had actually spoken with him. Maria was having seizures associated with eclampsia, the baby was delivered safely, but the medical staff were having difficulty getting Maria stable post birth, they were able to slow her seizures, but her blood pressure kept increasing and making her bleed more than expected and they weren’t able to keep up with her body’s demands. When Frankie finally arrived he greeted his daughter Camilla and the body of his wife Maria.

Francisco Morales cried for the first time since finding out he was going to be a father. He mourned his wife Maria and their marriage and that he had failed not only as a husband but a father for not being there for his daughter’s birth and caring for her mother properly.

It was then that he asked for some of the biggest favors in his life and relied on his old Special Forces buddies. He needed to get clean ASAP but doing too quickly would do more harm than good. He asked his best friend Santiago and his wife Yvonne to care for Camilla while he went into inpatient rehab, meanwhile Will and Ben (who was never in Speical forces but tagged along to see what he could do, not much except some babysitting) working on talking some old commanding officers to have Frankie become a pilot again with strict requirements.

Complete inpatient rehab

Drug testing weekly

Go through a re-fresher course for non-commercial pilots

Attend meetings at least three times a week, calling his CO (commanding officer/manager) so the call could be traced to a cell tower near where the meeting was supposed to take place.

Give address of meeting for further location confirmation.

After six months of negative weekly drug testing, while switch to monthly hair testing for one year and then either testing can be done if drug use is suspected.

Morales adhiered to the rules placed on them and welcomed them, after getting the house ready and baby proofed and working out day care, he was able to care for Camilla and himself within the year while working. Now that she was six, he focused on childcare during summers but had turned things around, though he still had to deal with people mentioning his past drug use, thankfully they seemed to have enough tact outside of Ms. Shirley not to mention it mostly.

On his way to tonight’s meeting he reflected on things as he usually did, not quite feeling the urges he once had for the drug, instead it was placed elsewhere in caring for his daughter and sex. Frankie did not have an issue in that arena, more like he wanted something in addition to the sex and he hadn’t really found a woman that he could go on more that three dates with, they were all boring, some of them married. None of it was for him.

The school nurse he met today was interesting though, he was used to dealing with more confidant women, that matched his ‘let’s get it’ energy no matter if his daughter was present or not because when the feeling strikes you it’s best to say something coded so little ears don’t catch on. He did appreciate that she didn’t seem to be swayed by what he was sure Ms. Shirley had already told her, that old prune took the opportunity to badmouth him whenever she got the chance. Frankie suspected is may have to do with him not eating her dry cake that she was offering everyone. Most of the parents took a pity piece, but Ms. Shirley’s face became real twisted when he asked if she had any milk or water to go with the cake. The pilot was up for the challenge of getting the nurse, Miss Nadia, to be more honest about what she wanted with all those breathy sighs. Had his daughter not been there, he may have tried to sweet talk her onto that desk and fuck her in just that lab coat.

Taking a few deep breaths himself, Frankie steeled himself for this week’s meeting, he wouldn’t have much to say per usual. He didn’t want much to say, he preferred boring everywhere except the bedroom. He hopped out of his truck and locked it, double checking he had his keys wallet and phone. He was about to turn it off when he saw a text notification:

Hi, it’s Nadia from the school nurse’s office. I just wanted to reach out and see when we could meet up this week. My evenings and weekend are open.

Frankie chuckled, it’s pretty business like how she was at the office. He made sure not to open the notification because he didn’t want to leave her on read. He would definently have the bare minimum to say, he needs to check his schedule after this meeting. It was rare that he ever went to these meetings with a smile on his face, but tonight he did.

Elsewhere…

Nadia sat on the couch sipping her moscatio out of a 16 oz Sailor Moon tumbler with a straw. She had texted Frankie and was nervously awaiting a reply or maybe she wouldn’t get one, she wasn’t super worried about it, because she had refilled the tumbler once already. Instead, she was more concerned about the text she would send to Eddie. The wine emboldening her, she felt she could just send him a text, telling him not to come by her house any more because they were over and he can go with some basic woman elsewhere. It sounded simple, it was not want she texted Eddie. 

Nadia sent him the following text message:

Eddie, I haven’t heard from you for three days even after I tried calling you with the time difference and texting you. You’re over there doing monkey business and you can keep doing it. I don’t want to see you ever again. Everything is on your terms and I hate it. I wasted more of my life because you sucked my nipple a few times. Fuck you, or better yet, have someone else fuck you so they too can be disappointed in not being satisfied any of the times, like not even close to where I can finish the rest. Just bad. Horrible. You should watch some porn and get some pointers. Ugh.

The nurse finished her tumbler and stood up triumphantly, but then held onto her couch because she had stood up too fast. She then decided, drinking water would be best and to take some Tylenol before bed. “I gotta change the locks, I think I was dumb enough to make him a key.”

Nadia called first thing in the morning and paid a bit extra to get a locksmith in that morning. There was still a wide time window, but she would be able to be at work by noon. So far Eddie hadn’t called or responded, she was nervous, but also glad because she didn’t want to talk to him. After having the locks changed and having two spare keys in addition to the main one made, the school nurse headed on into work. Once she arrived, she got settled in her office and started reviewing her emails. Her phone pinged and a text came from Frankie exactly at 12pm:

Hey sexy nurse. This weekend sounds perfect, I know a good Italian resturant we can go to, you alright with me picking you up around 7 on Friday? I’m looking forward to finidng out what else you like besides chocolate.

Nadia could feel the smirk he likely wrote that last line with. She just read it a few times while she sat at her desk, imagining him looking down at her again. Running his hand up her arm, pulling her forward onto the desk, spreading her legs and…

“Nadia honey! Have you seen the stapler? I bet that wispy looking guidance couseler took it again and didn’t bring it back. If he can wear such big sweaters, why can’t he get his own stapler, I’m sure that sweater was more than a stapler.” Miss Shirley’s noise brought Nadia back from her daydream. She cleared her throat and realized she was hovering over her chair, leaning her body forward.

“Are those some new chair exericses? Are those any good? You look flushed dear, Maybe you should take a break from those, you just got in.” The older woman remarked before leaving her door, presumly to track down the rouge counsuler for the stapler.The nurse plopped back in her chair and closed her eyes, trying to calm down, inhaling and exhaling deeply. She then giggled becuase she remembered when Frankie had commented on her breath control. 

“I’m losing it…over a man I met once. Will I even make it through a date with him? At this rate, I should drive, becuase that’s they only way i won’t jump into his car.” She muttered to herself. Then in dawned on her, why should she? If she wants to fuck him in the car and he’s fine with it, why not? Hell, maybe they won’t make it to dinner. Nadia crossed her arms and spun around in her chair. She’s just getting out of a relationship, it doesn’t need to be serious, right? Could she do that? Be un-attached?

“I just must be firm. I can do it…I think.” Nadia finally replied to Frankie.

Good afternoon handsome. Seven sounds perfect and I love Italian. You can pick me up, I feel like being pampered a bit.

Nadia sent it and put her head on her desk. She did feel like being pampered at least one night and if she had a one-night stand, it would be icing on the cake. She just had to mentally prepare for the cake.

[drill-teeth-art]

I had a few gripes about some episodes/things that I felt could've been done better. Can I ask for your critiques?

Welcome to Otto's Critique corner. Here are my guidelines for discussing critique with me for everyone's reference.

Repeat after me.

It's okay if we disagree on the flaws of Earthspark. Other people will have different opinions and preferences. Just because someone disagrees with me doesn't make them a bad person. (This is something I spent some time learning and understanding when I was younger, so I always like to add it as one of my rules.)

We will not use this critique space as a platform to be rude to others. We may point out flaws in others' arguments and note where we disagree, but this is a space of discussion and not harassment.

If we feel too worked up by the topics, we will step back. We are responsible for our mental health and emotions. We are capable of stopping ourselves from lashing out at others, so we will be mindful of our emotions.

Onto the main critiques under the cut. Feel free to ask me to expand on certain things as you like.

More of a technical writing issue, but I think the action scenes are written ineffectively. They all feel very slow paced. It comes across as when characters are not in frame, they aren't doing anything. It takes way too long to accomplish things for this reason that would resolve the conflict faster. The characters also actively choose to not do the obvious solution for plot reasons. So for people who write action scenes and such, this is stuff to watch out for. Your characters can do things when they're not in frame, you just have to imply it well enough. Writing conflict is more believable when you write in reasons why they can't do an easier solution. Like the terrans and Bumblebee literally could have gone to get Optimus and Megatron before going back to get Grimlock. If I remember right, one of the characters even suggested it. But they just didn't do it. The obvious plot patch is to have their radios be broken or Optimus and Megatron don't answer and they don't want to leave Grimlock alone too long. But that isn't addressed, and that can read very frustrating to the viewer that the characters ignore the obvious solutions.

Onto the thematic critiques. Now to be fair, this story is incomplete as of now. I try to avoid fully critiquing something that lacks it's full context, but here are my thoughts on what I see so far. To begin, I am a fan of nuanced writing. I love villain redemptions done well and hero corruptions written well. It's important to show that people can change for the better and that good intentions don't justify certain actions. These are pretty easy to mess up writing though, and since I think it's such an important thing to write well, I tend to be harsher critiquing it. Again, it is okay if you disagree with my analysis or agree but want to add a point or agree with most but want to point out a detail I missed or even my own bias. Discussion is good.

Thematically, I think Earthspark shies away from confronting it's own major themes too much. Earthspark has heavy themes around oppression, alienation, trauma of the past haunting the present, and discovering that many people treat others they don't understand cruelly and choose not to understand them. These are very heavy themes, and (assuming the best intentions) I think the writers aren't bold enough about them. As a smaller in world example, Robby encounters his old friend who has biases against Transformers and repeats harmful talking points. Robby doesn't really say all that much about it, choosing to just take his terran siblings and leave. Now, this writing choice I don't have a huge issue with. It's not one person's responsibility to do the educating to someone about their bias. I would have personally liked to see the writers let Robby get angrier, but I don't mind the "I don't have the energy to explain this to you and it's not my job" approach in this instance. Later Robby's friend fixes the graffiti on the bridge to not be a hateful message. Now, it is nice of that character to do that, but I'm frustrated that we saw no substantial confrontation and education. We as the viewers were not shown that this character was more directly confronted with their own biases, and that's somewhat of a pattern that is frustrating. Megatron at the memorial park after the terrans reenact his war memories in front of him doesn't get mad at them or explain to them that war and trauma isn't a laughing matter. At least he doesn't explain it explicitly which I would like to see. But this happens a lot. Megatron expresses to Optimus he doesn't like the devices GHOST is building that control Transformers' mode they're allowed to be in. Optimus sort of vaguely says they have to do this for the greater good, and the topic is dropped. Robby walks away from his friend without explaining why it's cruel to buy into anti Transformers rhetoric. The topic is dropped and suddenly the other kid has a change of heart. Nightshade and a nonbinary person have a discussion about gender that I personally really hoped would go deeper. The topic is dropped as the scene changes after a few sentences.

I feel like the way the writers aren't diving into their themes more is frustrating. It comes off kind of insulting to me. And I am sure that isn't the writers' intentions. And again, I don't think Earthspark is an all bad series or that others shouldn't enjoy it. I know good representation is a huge struggle, and I'm actually really happy to see Nightshade as nonbinary rep even though I also wish they explored more with them. It's just frustrating to see the writing shy away from getting into the representation they're boasting so much that I can't even tell what they're trying to say about their own themes.

(Please no huge spelling and grammar errors fingers crossed.)

[dinosaurchurch]

It's hard to believe that it's been six months since my father passed. Six months ago he would've turned sixty. I won't lie to people, it fucks me up to think at the age I am now that he was half way through his journey.

It's one of those things that I can't help but to think about sometimes, there's a lot of little small reminders of him that I get - things or moments that remind me of my childhood and the more simpler times. All though I know that the man I loved dearly was long gone by the time that he passed, I can't help but to have that sense of longing.

When people tell you that you never truly finish mourning for someone I think this is what they mean. It's the heartache of knowing you're still here and you have to carry on without them that hurts the most. I feel like that about a lot of things; I can't help but to reflect on the journey I've taken so far - of the things, places, and people I've left behind. There's certain things that I've tucked away long ago that sometimes I find myself pondering over, the what ifs of how did that turn out or did the people I used to share my path with heal or change for the better? I'll never know but it still makes me curious.

One of the things that I find when it comes to just getting older in general is knowing that the more you age, so does everyone else and that means that at one point you'll have to say goodbye to them or they will for you. No one knows truly when their time comes not even people who've been given a limited amount. Miracles happen just like tragedies, it's the beauty of life - you can't predict everything. The only thing you can do is better the odds by doing your best to try to strive for the optimal outcome.

There's a lot of emotions that I've had over this whole thing, but like a drop of dye into a pitcher of water - it only gets diluted the more you add - it doesn't go away. I tend not to remember much of the bad regardless of how rocky our relationship was for the past few years, maybe that's part of how soft I've become or just the acceptance of that softness that I tried to hide for the longest while. I understand why things happened the way they did as much as I didn't agree with them but I don't think I have it in me to summon up my vindictiveness like I used to. I'm not that person and I don't want to be that person.

It's interesting how a lot of simple choices add up. That's one thing I think about when it came to my father, he had almost the perfect storm unload upon him for everything that he had done. There was a lot of parallels with how the lack good mental health and self awareness inevitably affected him in the most negative ways possible. I mean he's no longer here to say anything but I think his passing very starkly highlighted his flaws and especially of those around him.

People talk about the person who left but they don't talk typically about the lasting effects it has on the people that are still here. How sometimes it's the fallout of when someone goes that's worse than the actual ordeal of them exiting stage left.

One thing nobody likes to talk about or highlight when it comes to someone's death is how a person handles that stress. I know that I had quite the hurricane of emotions overcome me from anger, bereft, longing, sorrow, and even relief over the whole event. I cared greatly as much as I told myself I didn't. Regardless of what horrible things he did, I didn't want him to suffer but he did.

Witnessing what happened with the rest of my family is part for the emotions I felt as well. A lot of drama surrounded him, and the funny part is he wasn't the catalyst for a portion of it. I don't talk about it much since I mainly stick to myself but there's a divide in my family thanks to the actions of a few. I want to say that everyone can get along but the funeral showcased that wasn't at all possible. It's striking what taking one piece of the puzzle out does. Some people absolutely crumbled under the stress and give way to the worst version of themselves.

I think one of the weirdest things was seeing family I hadn't seen since I was a little girl. Bad events really do call people together, it's like everyone shows up for a moment to help out and when it's over they all scatter back into the dark. I don't know if I'll ever see some of those people again but this has definitely been one of the weirder events I've had the unfortunate pleasure of being a part of.

Between the mudslinging and the outright fit some people threw over this or even the will (which wasn't at all fairly split between anybody but that's another entirely separate rant for another entirely separate time) I can say I want to wipe my hands of this whole mess. Just to step back out of the limelight that I was put in being the oldest out of my siblings since people expected me to say something or take up the responsibilities attached has been refreshing. It's tiring always having people wanting to put more weight on my shoulders like I'm going to take up some of his old mantles or whatever.

Call me cold or callused but I don't care to spend energy trying to glue people back together on that side of the family. I'm done with pretending that I gave a shit, or that I should anyway. If I don't talk to them again then that's fine by me.

I'm tired. That's why I almost felt okay with letting the worst happen. Not like any of this was in my hands in the first place, but a lot of unrest went with my father to the grave and what was left will eventually fizzle out. I'm a-okay with that. Some peace and quiet is what everyone needs here.

Ultimately this whole thing has been sad to see. Watching lines blur of what used to be my younger self's rose coloured vision against what's actually there. I can't help but to long for the more simple day where perhaps ignorance was bliss. The truth is harsh but even with that I much rather know than not.

I wish things could've turned better for everyone but that just isn't possible. Some of it has been entirely unpredictable but what hasn't has had a bit of a karmic effect to which you reap what you sow but I digress. I've said enough so I'll leave it here.

Cheers.

[hoghtastic]

Hey there! I remember that some had been discussing why most of the younger cast of vikings didn't really progress with their careers. I have just recently rewatched the whole show, and now with some time passed and not as much of a hype I personally felt like often the acting of them was honestly hideous. I noticed that especially with Marco, Ida, Georgia and yes also with Alex. Some of them clearly had some very good and memorable scenes but compared to what Travis did with his character I now understand that a lot of people abandoned or didn't like the show after Ragnars death. Yes, Ivar carried the show like a lot after that but I personally thing that the fact that Ivar just looked hot had a lot of saying with that. Because when I rewatched the show, I thought that with season 5 the story was more often written poorly then not! I know that they were young and didnt have that much experience, but honestly if that is their biggest advertisement for themselves I kinda understand it's hard for them to get new big jobs.

Just my 2 cents, sorry if most disagree, hope no one feels offended. Just thought to myself its almost a bit surprising how my own view changed with a bit of distance form the fandom and hypetrain.

Thank you so much for sharing your opinion, anon! 😊 It's a really interesting perspective, and it's totally understandable that with some time and distance our views on things will change.

If I may also add my two cents, from my experience talking to friends and acquaintances who also used to watch Vikings, people abandoning the show after Ragnar's death had nothing to do with the new actors' skills. They were just really attached to Ragnar as a character and felt really disappointed that they decided to kill the main character, so much that they didn't see a point in continuing to follow the story, as the sons' story wouldn't be the same without Ragnar. So some people gave up right away, not even giving the show and the new cast a chance. It also didn't help that, at the time, only seasons 1 to 5 were available on Netflix, and most people didn't feel like subscribing to another platform (Amazon Prime, if I'm not mistaken) to see the 6th and final season. And while I agree that sometimes the writing wasn't the best, we can't really blame the actors' skills for that either, as they try to do their best with what they're given, I believe. 😅

I also absolutely agree when you said that "they were young and didn't have that much experience", but being on Vikings was already a huge achievement and they could have worked on improving their skills after that. I can only comment about Alex, whose career I've been following the closest in comparison to the others you mentioned, but I'd say that the problem wasn't his performance in Vikings. He showed a huge potential and commitment to the character, even if he wasn't perfect. The problem was what he did after. It seemed to me (based on past interviews) that he got a little picky with which roles he'd accept, considering some smaller ones as some kind of "downgrade" after Vikings. He also didn't seem to have resumed his formal studies or any other kind of education that would help him improve as an actor. And in such a competitive field of work, where good big roles are somewhat scarce, I don't think those were very clever choices. But this is just my personal opinion, of course, and maybe he preferred to prioritize his mental health back then and is happy doing some lighter work nowadays. 😊

[sansajonquil]

Chris and I are hanging at blacktown, meeting up at the cinema - he was sitting at the bench. we were going to watch the mortal instruments : city of bones. his black poodle dog, pepper, was with him too. he liked being with me, he saying he liked my personality and smile.

he trails his hand on my arm, drawing swirls, he saying my arm is the sky. I say, ‘ that tickles, ‘ i laughing, yet his hand is warm in my skin. he says, ‘ tickle, tickle. ‘ there is a hesitancy, I note, as he says, ‘ there’s something I want to tell you, never mind… ‘ he has miniature figurines that he delicately paints in colours with his skinny paintbrush, one being an action figure of deadpool. such beauty in this, he thinks.

we were boyfriend and girlfriend in secret, as my mum didn’t want me to be with a disabled person. taking a deep breath, he then says if I wanted to go out. ‘ I know this is too much to take in right now…. ‘

he sees how worried I’ve been, of desolate misery. he has been talking to his friend, tim, about me, during their playing video games together. they recently played overwatch, and like horror movies like friday the 13th with the guy in the white hockey mask. he sees I’m confused as to why he treated me terribly, of being a rebound for his past relationships, and ghosting me. he sees I feel strange guilt, thinking why I would think i killed him in allergic reaction, at our hanging out in the Easter show. he definitely felt like he was breathing through the rise and fall of his chest, and we had hung out in person and messaged each other in significant intervals within the cruel sludge of caved in.

moonwoken :

chris says this, as he is sitting with me on his bed. we had seen each other after so long in blacktown shopping centre. I was walking through the centre, after buying a book from a bookstore ( ghosts of the shadow market ) - i having gone there to have an appointment with my psychologist.

tim is friends with Chris’ mum ( Cora ) on social media, yet! before, he wasn’t friends with either chris or chris’ mum, seeing each other clearly. ‘ hearts change like the current, ‘ he says, smiling, ‘ not an analogy, ‘ he adds, knowing my anxiety and it being much scarier than simply loving all my quirks. ‘ do you remember me saying my whole family loved you, including my dogs? ‘ he asks.

I nod, remembering pepper tried to jump on me with her fluffy black body when we are on another date, i shrieked, and back away. ‘ I don’t want your love!! ‘ I say to pepper. ‘ you don’t want their love…huh, who do you love? ‘ chris had spit in vehemence. Cora sees us, saying, ‘ ahh-ya. Please don’t fight. ‘ she then kissed me on the cheek, and I wipe away the kiss, in which she stared and then awkwardly smiles.

he was angry he had been waiting on me for a long time, the day after a huge nervous breakdown of mine, ‘ I’ve been waiting so long for you, you can’t just make people wait on you ; that’s so selfish. ‘ He looks at me with his beautiful green blue eyes, I noticing his eyes as we ride on the escalator. He is wearing a starry night shirt as he snarls at me in raging tenacity. ‘ I’m dumping you!’

they - he and Tim - walk in the grey beach for fresh air as it can be quite stifling to hang at home - because of the darkness of bipolar. there are green leaf plants of life, a green orchid rosemary in the sand ground of dampening yellow. He is wearing a red shirt with white sneakers. they’ve both been in breakaway, a good program for mental health. they eat lunch at a white table-clothed table at the dining room.

I say to him, ‘ I’m sorry for being late, ‘ in response. Yet I am angry on the inside he would treat me so cruelly, treating me like sh**, he shouting at my broken rag doll body, in which I cried so hard the day before of my breakdown ( I curling my warm jumper birdbone body on the grey carpet ) and needed a friend to talk to. He definitely didn’t harm me when he said he was dumping me. a distant voice in the back of my mind, which I remember later of why I feel hate to him, other than rebound and the next sentence I say to him, was he treating me like a sex object, a punching bag, a marble statue, in which he stared obscenely at my chest and said, ‘ don’t worry, I like small breasts, ‘ as he sees a large-chested woman pass by.

‘ let’s go inside the cinema, ‘ he says, after a while of we resting at the bench and chatting sometimes. as we rest on the bench, I say, ‘ you were pretty cruel to me, ‘ he listens to what I say, drawing his eyebrows in a little confusion. ‘ you also scared me when you pulled me close to you and kissed my neck at the Easter show. ‘ me remembering he didn’t seem to care at the time, and thought it was funny, he saying in a mimicking of me, that I would whine about it to my family.

he says, drawing his eyebrows a little in confusion, listening to what I have to say, ‘ oh… I didn’t mean to scare you. ‘

after a bit, he says, ‘ let’s go inside the cinema. we can catch a late screening of dune. ‘ we are talking about things in the theatre. he is trying to understand me, as he also watches paul atreides taste the salt of the sea water on his face. jessica is saying, ‘ what is dead should stay dead, ‘ as she sprinkled the water on him ; his voice getting stronger, she seeing he is still shrouded in whispering darkness - he going deadly silent - and for good reason of seeing his brother murdered. ‘ yet what refuses to die should be given a chance at life. ‘ it was a beautiful scene, we taking some pictures on our phone.

I am describing my worries about roleplay and university, thinking people hated me. ‘ so this may be like your anxiety, ‘ he says, pointing to the screen. paul hallucinates his brother lying in the cupboard stairwell, with clouded unseeing eyes and white papery skin, sylar making him hallucinate.

I nod, saying that I wish I didn’t have to live in constant fear, yet knowing people are just seeing if I’m okay and trying to help me mediate as I am experiencing the cracked expanse of my earthquake, thrashing in pain as I clutch my head in the water ; red ribbon a dawning rose. for you. I am wearing a black suit with white lace blouse, and a tuxedo mask, me being don juan. ‘ I imagine myself as a soldier who has been in war, ‘ I say to Chris, as we eat pizza 🍕 in the brown foldable table, other food being braised lamb. There were pamphlets on the wall, encouraging to enlist, as I quickly take one off to look at. I am striding forward with my rifle in determination, and fighting the enemy, a war in my head, briefly pausing by a vehicle to take my mask off. ‘ are you ashamed of what you are, ‘ his friend says to him, ‘ I’m with you till the end of the line. ‘

i remember I talked to Jyve ( her name was Jessica Yvette ) about the civil war soldiers, we liking their brotherly relationship as we chat in the car for a shopping trip, the radio playing music ; she has black hair. She has a rose in her hair, yet says she doesn’t like the blonde braided girl in space - saying she should have stayed with her boyfriend, not the doctor of energy and exploitation. she says, her lips curving in anger, ‘ he hands her a teacup of drugged chamomile tea and then as she drinks, with a tissuebox next to her, says ‘ fear is a powerful aphrodisiac!! ‘ jyve honking on the car horn, ‘ and as she is sitting forlorn in the faerie bubble bathtub. ‘ I listen to her, as I was wondering why she didn’t like the beloved character who liked eating hot chips and working at a shop. i experience my sense of ashen self with someone more strongly as i also am here with chris, he understanding the simple beauty of musical colouring, as he has anxiety too. magnifying glass and compass was on the table, as well as white seashell on pale blue teapot.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

tw : uncomfortable experience

hii, i'm trying to look for reassurance and advice, plus resources!

i remember a while ago i made an ask and was given plenty of resources and i can't be thankful enough on how helpful it was <3

right now i'm still unsure on why i felt numb for the rest of the day, it's like all of my emotions were shutting itself down, doesn't matter how many distractions i had (watching random vids, talking to my friends, drawing, etc) i'll end up feeling like this, plus i also felt like something is WRONG but i don't know what that is. it's frustrating because i just want to live my college break normally

i kinda think the reason and also the source of all of this is my past trauma on abandonment, but at this point this is the only conclusion i had

i'm just scared if i had these whole numbness getting over me again, and i'm scared if i ended up staring blankly like idk felt that i wasn't at my place but i was? as if my mind just said "oh you don't want to faint out physically? then i'll make it emotionally" like bruhhhh

if anyone know anything about these kinds of experience i'd love to learn on how to dealing it, thank youuu :(

-k✨

Hi k✨,

I'm sorry to hear about what you've been experiencing. It can definitely be scary to feel like your emotions are shutting down. Please know that you're not alone.

There are different things that could explain what you're experiencing. Personally something I've struggled with for years is emotional amnesia, which is when you struggle to associate emotions with certain events, or that any present emotions are numbed. For me, this made it not only difficult to feel my own emotions about a given trauma, but I wasn't in touch with my emotions in general.

Everyone is different of course, but what helped me was giving myself the time, space, and permission to feel my emotions to whatever degree feels natural, while trying to remind myself that it's okay to feel this. Especially if you have trauma, having abundant time and patience is essential in the healing journey.

Ultimately, if you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could explore this with you and mitigate your symptoms. A therapist can get a comprehensive assessment of your experiences and make a more accurate conclusion as to what you may be dealing with.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

And All I Ever Knew, Only You

Pairing: Osamu Dazai x gn!Reader

Writing Genre: story, letter format

Genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff?

Word count: 1.7k (there is a cut)

Warnings: extremely light allusion to nsfw, discussions of mental health, discussions of suicidal thoughts and actions, allusions to self-harm, angst, results of trauma

Notes P.1: I originally got the idea for this fic when I had the first sneak peek I shared come to mind on a night drive, and immediately I felt that Dazai should be the character for the fic! I would also like to note that this fic was slightly influenced by Lemony Snicket's The Beatrice Letters!

Notes P.2: Another thing I would like to note is that it does get slightly more disorganized as the fic goes on, but it is written that way on purpose to accurately portray how your thoughts become more jumbled when you're so caught up in emotion!

Read it on ao3!

And yes, the title is a lyric in the song Only You by Yazoo!

~~~

Staring out of the window, a soft smile made its way onto Dazai's face as he observed the gloaming. Your light snores filled the bedroom, causing his smile to widen as he looked back at your sleeping form. Multiple pieces of paper sat on the desk in front of him, glowing due to the light from a candle.

Picking up a black pen, he felt an overwhelming sense of love in his bones. Adoration, tenderness, and appreciation flooded his veins as his heart overflowed onto the pages.

To my dear soul,

I have felt a plaguing solitude for as long as I can remember. My childhood was filled with bitterness and confusion; a wound only deepening as I got older. My time in the mafia, as you know, was an extremely tumultuous period of my life. My mind had found its home in the volatile cage of violence, both to myself and others. There was no longer the glimmering of youth in my eyes, having been shoved aside into nothingness.

I was given the key to the cage about a decade ago now by a friend of mine, and although I opened the door and flew from the cage, my soul stayed behind. It sat idly and waited for someone to revive it and give its own wings to fly with. Finally, four years ago, along you came.

The first thing I noticed were your eyes. Such captivating emotion in them, highlighted by your dazzling smile. You had an interview with Fukuzawa that morning, and decided to approach and make conversation with me. It was simple small talk, but it haunted my sleepless nights nonetheless. When he asked if we should hire you, I was quick to give my approval.

By the start of the next week you became one of our receptionists. After we discovered your past and ability however, you were given your entrance exam (which you aced with my advice might I add) and became an official member of the Agency; I was overjoyed that day, even if it was hidden away!

Your desk sat next to mine, and I always observed you working and talking to the other members; much to Kunikida’s frustration of course. Those frustrations did not last long though, because he could see the true happiness in my aura. It was something he always wished for me, and he was the one who encouraged me to pursue my relationship with you.

I am surprised this is a tale I have never told you; even when you ask me for stories at night while stroking my spine and attempting to make conversation before bed.

I never speak about how much pleasure I find in your embrace. How I can feel nothing but the love and acceptance I have forever craved.

What a fool I am for you, my love. You have revived the boy inside of me, and I feel nothing but gratitude for your patience.

I want to be here for you so desperately, as you have always been there for me. Our relationship has had its fair share of fights, but I was still learning then. I have never had a “proper” relationship shown to me, and that is the only way I knew how to be. This confidence is the only barrier I have to keep people out of the turbulent waters of my heart and my love, but nevertheless you picked up that hammer and began breaking it down.

I remember the first night I cried in front of you; a deep, true cry I have not had in years. You held me, ran your fingers through my hair, and treated me so fragile that even I thought I would break if I left your arms. My sobs and wails echoed and sounded like sirens in your ears, and even though my mind screamed that I was nothing but a burden, you clasped my red tear-stained face in your hands and stared into my watered eyes with such admiration that I felt like your most revered painting.

My fresh tears now drip onto this page as I promise to hold and cherish you the same. I have made so many promises to you, but I am still ashamed to say that I have broken more than half of them. Why do you stay? My heart knows the reason, but my mind does not.

I have laid myself bare before you on many, many nights. I have shown you parts of me that no one has ever seen before. You have sailed and explored every island in the archipelago of my heart, and still you stay. My blood ran mafia black, but you have left ichor in my veins on your voyage.

I thank the Gods everyday for allowing us to meet. I need no other home but you, for you have provided me the shelter and safety to thrive.

You have always cared so deeply for me and my mind. When I stand on the ledge of a tall building in the night, menacing thoughts coursing through my brain, you hold my hand and stand next to me saying nothing; only waiting for me to look at you before leading me away back to the warmth and comfort of our apartment. I want to continue doing the same for you. I see the contemplation and sorrow in your eyes when you trace over your scars, some caused by others and some by you. During those moments I want so desperately to kiss your lips and wash away your thoughts, but I know I cannot. I think I feel remarkably similar to how you feel in my hazy moments; but as I hinted, these are our battles to fight, and we must allow the other this experience.

I promise to always be there for you, even in your darkest times when you question why I bother. Do you know why I bother? I am sure you do, but I will tell you anyway. I bother because I am so deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

You have become the brightest light in my life throughout the last three years we have been together, and I promise to stay with you for the rest of time as yours. And when you are knocking on death's door, I will hold your frail hand and encase your dying breath with my lips. Your wishes will become my only reason for living.

I want to thank you, Y/n, for reviving in me what I once lost. For reminding me of the beauty in the life around me, and not the one in my mind. For showing me how much you love me everyday, in little gestures and large gestures. We are walking toward the vast and unpredictable landscape of our future, and for once in my life I can say that with you as my partner I feel no uncertainty. As cheesy as it may sound, our romance has been written in the stars. Our lovely, bitter romance.

That is what life and love are, right? Lovely and bitter. I believe the proper word would be bittersweet.

I hear your call, my dear soul, and I answer it with my spirit. We are living at peace with our hearts now that all of this chaos has ended. It has been a long journey… and we deserve to rest now.

I know you, and words cannot express how much I have longed for that. You are my sole companion, and I can see in your smile that I am the same for you. Many friends will come and go, but I promise I will remain constant in your life.

I feel so honoured to be your fiancé. I remember the night of the proposal like it was yesterday.

I was with Kunikida in the morning, running around like a headless chicken trying to decide how I would do it! Would I take you to a fancy restaurant? A rooftop bar? A park or lake for a picnic? He was trying his best to calm me down, but his efforts were to no avail. Now, I know you were there, and you have heard this story many times before, but I will be telling it again.

I had made a reservation at the restaurant we went to on our first date (very cliché, I know), but by the time we arrived they had given our table to someone else as I had gotten the reservation time wrong! I felt very embarrassed, but you assured me that it would be fine as long as we spent the night together.

Now that my original plan had failed, I landed on my second idea – a rooftop bar. The maps on our phones were not working however, and we ended up driving across the city trying to spot it! Eventually, we decided to drive out to the country and enjoy the nature. I thought the car had enough gas, but needless to say it did not (I’ve never been that great with cars, love, I apologize). After it broke down, ironic chuckles left both of our lips before we decided to walk through the grass and trees that were nearby.

We stood together under the stars and a cherry blossom tree, and at that moment when you looked over at me, I could see my future carved into your features. I reached into my pocket to pull out the ring, and to my surprise you pulled out a ring as well. We both wanted to propose to each other on the same night, what are the odds! Our laughter flew with the wind as we slipped the rings onto the others fingers and kissed, petals from the tree falling over us like rain. But then, of course, the ‘rain’ started feeling a little too wet and real and I quickly realized that we were now stuck in a storm. What a way to celebrate our engagement, right!? It felt like Heaven to me, though; like God had finally dealt me a good hand.

Alas, it is time for me to join you in our bed. I am unbelievably excited to marry you tomorrow, my star.

Your spirit,

Dazai

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If you would like to read more of my Dazai fics, why don't you check out Belladonna?

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@stories-from-saint-petersburg @kunikinnie @valonava

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[tuesday-teyz]

Idk what I am doing but felt like bumping what I think about Br royal family real quick:-

Br Phil

• I am still unable to understand how he isn't able to see how much he is hurting his sons. Not only Theseus but the others too.

• Of course Theseus 'changed' did he expect him to be the everyday happy child he was when he was younger? He grew up and now he was great responsibilities on his shoulder, how can he expect him to smile in a condition like that?

• His wife's death must have affected him a lot but it still doesn't justify his behaviour.

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Br Wilbur

• It is clear that he was a lot going on with his mental health but the way he treats Theseus is disgusting.

• Even looking at Fundy, I feel like all he sees is Theseus so he might not interact much with his son that such(Thats just my thinking!)

• It is best if he actually stays away from the castle and lives with Sally and Fundy. It is way better for his mental health.

• This is my theory but he might be obsessed with Theseus for this reason. Maybe his mother and Theseus had the same personality, when his mother died he could see her in Theseus. But as the story shows, Theseus is changing, he is becoming guarded and cold. So this is why he is so passive-aggressive towards him, Wilbur wants the same little boy who had his mother's personality back not accepting the fact the baby boy is long gone and wants to keep Theseus to change him back into that said little happy boy.

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Br Techno

• I think the reason why he didn't praise Theseus when he won the duel against Sapnap was that he was so shocked. He remembers trying to teach him fighting but all his movements were clumsy but now look at him, basically dancing to victory.

• I also don't blame him for not talking against Phil and Wilbur, it's not easy as it sounds. Going against your family is hard, he just can't accept the fact that his father is wrong.

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Br Tommy/Theseus

• It is satisfying seeing his evolution from a beaten up prince to a cunning one.

• But I still think he is naive, if I were him I won't trust Dream so easily. Keeping the fact he doesn't know Prince (the parrot) is Dream I can't see the reason why Dream is helping him.

• Maybe it has something to do with Dream's past with his family, well I am looking forward to that.

• I don't have much to say about Theseus, all there is that I look forward to seeing is how he shapes into the great cunning individual see all want to see.

This was very interesting to read! What I can add to the characters:

• Techno has a reason why he was against that duel, and Tommy winning in particular. I have a scene ready for chapter 22's beggining that features some very interesting dialogue between Wilbur and Techno that spills some light on that.

• When analyzing Wilbur's actions and motivations, one should keep in mind that he has quite a twisted image of others and himself as well. Wilbur suffers from self-loathing and has been, his entire life, dependent on external sources of encouragement to keep him emotionally stable. Kristin was that source for a while, and then Tommy after he was born.

Basically for Wilbur, there are two types of people: who love him and who hate him. He automatically puts new people into second category, so that's why Ranboo's behavior was so unusual to him. It's hard for Wilbur to grasp the concept that he can just exist, that his own happiness doesn't have to be tied to how much other people need him. But with his current mindset it is, and thus to make Tommy need him, Wilbur wants their childhood codependency back.

[volturiwolf]

Unorthodox - An Embry Call x vampire!fem!Reader Story - Part 2

A/N: This part is a bit longer than the first one, as I had to add the pack's reaction to the imprint - @foreveror-never suggested it, and I was thinking about it, so I added it.

A/N 2: (Y/N) loves expensive and lavish things - you will see it here and in later chapters

A/N 3: As Paul is 16 (a minor), I think Rachel (his imprint/Jacob's sister) should also be a minor, so I imagine her a year younger than Paul, Jacob, Quil, Jared, and Embry, at 15.

No of Words: 5600+

Through the parts, mentions of: Abusive relationship, Attacks, Hunt, Illusions, Loneliness, Mental health, Murder, Sex / Sex language / Sexual activities, Suicide, Swear language, Wild imagination

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Part 1

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"Unorthodox" Tag List (reply if you want to be added or removed): @eunoia-kth @eugeniapet @aquanova99 @foggyturtleknightangel @avecletempsy @girlgirlgirlnormal @hshehdyhd @musicandpenguins @letskidnapsenpai

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(Y/N)’s POV

The past few days had been filled with nerves and anxiety. We couldn’t understand who could have been behind the events in Seattle, and that kept us on edge. This graduation party was the last thing we needed right now, but Carlisle and Esme still agreed to go along with it for Alice’s sake, but most importantly for Bella, as it was her first graduation.

I decided that I would have a good time myself, not worry about my thoughts for once, and just let loose. Carlisle and Esme left the house to ourselves, as they preferred to go out on a romantic walk. Bella just arrived at the party but did not notice me, as she turned around.

That’s when I smelled the “mutts”, as the five Cullen siblings called the wolves. The stink now was unlike anything they had described to me - dirt, mold, wet dog, canned dog food? It was difficult to describe it, but it left my nose burning.

Among the smells, there was another one, far more pleasant than the stink I smelled before. It smelled like wood, pine, grass, the ocean. It smelled better than blood, better than anything I have ever smelled in my life. It smelled like warmth and home. I didn’t quite fully comprehend it, but it smelled familiar like it was calling me.

I turned to look at Bella, and she was already talking with Jacob, who stank so much by now. I played it cool, trying not to breathe, so I wouldn’t have to get out of here earlier than I had planned.

“Was my right hook too subtle for you?” I laughed at Bella’s words, as I remember telling us how she broke her hand punching Jacob in the face.

He was now trying to apologize to her, but it didn’t feel too genuine for me. Well, that was just me though, as she seemed to be relaxing a bit from her previous defensive attitude. I walked by Bella’s side just as Jacob was handing her her “graduation present”, a wolf bracelet.

“Hey, Bells!” I greeted and side-hugged Bella carefully. I turned towards Jacob, smiling widely and extending my hand towards him. “Hi, I’m (Y/N)! You must be Jacob. I’ve heard so many things about you.” He ignored me, rolling his eyes, probably annoyed I interrupted his conversation with Bella. I wouldn’t let the wolf ruin my mood. So, I just smiled and turned towards the two that were accompanying Jacob tonight.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N).” I extended my hand for them to shake. The shorter boy, with the slightly curly hair, shook my hand first.

“Hi, I’m Quil. I think we met the other day.” He smiled at me.

“Yes! You were on patrol with Paul, right? You replaced Edward and me? Nice to meet you!” I felt Jacob shaking his head behind me at the mention of Edward’s name. Pfft, get over yourself, big guy.

“Yeah, exactly! It’s nice meeting you, too.” Quil’s face lit up, the cold attitude that he had a few days ago nowhere to be seen. He actually seemed pretty nice. “By the way, this is my friend, Embry. He is part of our pack.”

I turned to look at the other guy, who stood a few inches taller than Quil, extending my hand, waiting for him to shake it. “Hi, I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you, Embry!” I chirped in. He was totally gorgeous, and if I could blush, my whole face would be burning by now.

He lifted his face to look at me, and the moment our eyes met, he froze at his place. I felt a fire burning inside me, and electricity passing through my body. My mind cleared up completely, for the first time ever since I became a vampire. I could now see what he was thinking about. I saw us running through the woods - Embry in his wolf form; us laughing at the beach; I saw myself lying in his arms.

I was taken aback. Embry was still frozen to his place, his eyes looking at me widely, and Quil had to start shaking him to bring him back to reality. He came back just in time I heard and saw Alice coming down the stairs. She suddenly froze. Bella also noticed and we both excused ourselves to stand in front of the small brunette vampire.

I stood in front of Alice, watching the images in her head. I saw Riley Biers, the guy who had been missing for over a year now, his face plastered on posters all over Forks. He was holding a red blouse, and he was giving it around to the newborns to sniff it. I saw him and the newborns swimming and walking towards Forks. The vision stopped and I started panicking. I didn’t even notice Embry coming to stand beside me until I felt the warmth radiating off his body.

“Alice, what’d you see?” Bella was starting to panic.

Alice looked at me, her face just as upset as mine probably was. “The decision’s been made.”

Jacob came to stand beside Bella. “What’s going on?”

Realization hit Bella. “You’re not going to Seattle.”

“No. They’re coming here.”

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I called Carlisle and thankfully, he came as soon as he could. Alice went to get Edward and Jasper, and along with the wolves and Bella, we all walked in the small patio, not able to wait any longer for the guests to leave the house.

It was a complicated and upsetting situation. We came to the conclusion that the newborn army could not just have been created by Riley Biers; there must have been someone else behind it.

Jacob, Embry, and Quil quietly agreed with each other, deciding to fight the newborns along with us. Bella was currently trying to prevent Jacob from fighting the newborns, afraid that he could hurt himself.

I looked at Embry, who was already looking at me. I may have not known him at all, but I couldn’t bear the thought of him fighting the newborns. He could be the greatest fighter of all for all I know, but newborns are not to be taken lightly. They are lethal. I was talking from my own experience and other newborns I met along the way.

Newborns are uncontrollable and vicious, the only thing we ever think about at that stage of our life is blood and how to soothe our never-ending thirst. At that point, we are way superior in every sense than any other vampire. Our senses are heightened, our stamina much greater, our strength far greater. We are designed to kill at that point, and the only thing that can stop us is our very own vanity and carelessness.

I didn’t know how the wolves would be able to deal with them, without getting themselves hurt. I would never say they were incapable of fighting or they were weaker than us, but, at least, we could, more or less, know what it feels like being a newborn, driven by a sort of madness, your vanity, your thirst; all these were things the wolves would not be able to understand.

Carlisle turned to Jacob. “We’ll all need some training. Fighting newborns requires knowledge that Jasper has. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Right. Name the time and place.” Jacob seemed too confident in himself.

Carlisle turned at me. “(Y/N)? Will you join us?”

I felt everyone’s eyes on me. “Of course. I will fight with you. You are my family after all. Whoever is behind this, won’t even know I exist.”

Carlisle nodded at me and then turned to the three wolves before us. “Tomorrow, 1 pm. We’ll meet at a clearing 4 miles southeast from here. It will give us enough space and privacy, away from the town.”

Jacob nodded and he and Quil went to leave but stopped once they saw that Embry was still looking at me. I felt an urge to fall into his arms, to talk to him, but I also knew that this relationship could probably never work. I just needed time to think. So, when I saw Embry taking a few steps towards me, I turned to Carlisle.

“Carlisle, I’ll be going now. I’ll meet you all tomorrow.” I turned to Embry to look at him one last time, mouthing a “Sorry, I need some time” to him, before running towards the stairs as humanly fast as possible, and down to the garage to take my car.

I was thankful now that I convinced Carlisle and Esme to allow me to have my own space. They knew we would be close to each other, but they understood and respected my need for privacy. When I found a nice house, about 1 mile southeast from the Cullens, I moved all my stuff there.

I also got myself a few cars, just in case I needed to go anywhere and didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention. Something which I now thought I did not manage to achieve, as my Lamborghini Murciélago LP650-4 Roadster drew too much attention, not quite fitting for the small town of Forks. The exclusivity in its production and availability made it stand out even more than the other Murciélago editions.

However, instead of going home, I drove up to Port Angeles. I left my car near the warehouses down at the docks, and jumped to the sea, swimming all the way across to Vancouver Island. I just wanted to get away, maybe hunt, go somewhere that neither Embry nor any other wolf could reach for now.

I needed time for myself, with myself, just to think about everything. Bella and, with extension, the Cullens were hunted down by newborns; I mated with the wolf; the wolf mated with me; vampires and wolves do not get along - I would say they hate each other, but Embry’s and Quil’s attitude did not clearly state that, and, above all, my head had started killing me again.

I didn’t realize it quite as quickly but, as long as I was near Embry’s presence, everything was clear, specified, and understandable. The moment I left his side, everything started becoming unbearable. More confusing and complicated than it was before. It was as if Embry unraveled the mysteries and knots I had in my head and when I left, I took the pain and complications of being away from a mate with me, in my head. I just wished for once that my mind was clear and stable, and I now knew what I had to do.

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Embry’s POV

“You what?” Paul had been screaming for a solid 10 minutes, pacing back and forth around Emily and Sam’s living room.

Thankfully, Sam, having expected such reactions, managed to drag Emily out of the house in time, telling her to go to Billy’s as fast as she could. Paul was fuming, and Sam knew that he had to put his imprint’s life first before Paul did anything to put her life in danger.

“Paul, CALM DOWN! You’re going to break the house down!” Leah screamed back at him.

“How do you expect me to calm down, Leah? Didn’t you hear what he said?" Paul’s hand pointed at me. “HE IMPRINTED ON A LEECH!” He snarled, sitting back down on his chair.

“I heard what he said, Paul! I, too, am disgusted, especially with how my little brother seems a bit too excited about this!” Leah was now staring at Seth, a mix of disgust and anger on her face.

“What?” Seth shrugged, smiling. “Quil said she was cool.” Quil nodded in agreement, smiling widely. “Besides, she’s hanging out with the Cullens. She has to be one of the good vampires, right?”

Paul and Jacob hit their fists down at the table, growling. I jumped a bit, taken aback by their actions. I knew Jacob didn’t like the Cullens, but what was Paul’s issue? She was MY imprint after all.

“Don’t you dare break this table!” Sam snarled at the two wolves. “You don’t choose who you imprint to. You two should know that!” Sam was staring between the two boys, who sat across from each other, around Emily and Sam’s dining table.

“Embry?” I lifted my head to look at the Alpha. All this time, I felt as if Paul put me up against a wall, and just yelled at me for no reason. “You good?” I simply nodded, not being able to say a word, in fear of triggering Paul once again.

Paul turned his head to look at the Alpha. “Are you serious, Sam? She’s a fucking bloodsucker! Just because Embry imprinted on her, does NOT mean she does NOT drink blood!” Paul was hitting his palm on the table with every word he said.

“No, it does not. But, because she’s Embry’s imprint, it means that we won’t have to worry about her like we do for the Cullens. Embry, I would like to meet her eventually. After the battle, of course; we first have to focus on fighting off those newborns.” I nodded at Sam, relieved that he was willing to meet (Y/N).

“Meet her? You mean bring her here? Are you crazy, Sam? Jared! You are not gonna say anything?” Paul turned to look at our packmate who was now munching on his third chocolate chip muffin that Emily had baked for the evening.

Jared looked around as everyone’s eyes fell on him. “What?”

“Sam wants to meet the leech. Here!” Jacob answered back at him.

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you serious, dude?” Paul widened his eyes, looking at Jared angrily.

“What? I don’t mind (Y/N). Plus, one less mouth to feed.” Jared grinned, while Quil and Seth burst laughing.

Paul was shaking by now, as he practically jumped out of his chair, and ran out of the house. I was worried about him and the pack - half of the pack was accepting and willing to give (Y/N) a chance, and the other half could not accept that she was my imprint, and I couldn’t do anything to change that. I didn’t want to change that. I always craved to find my imprint, and now that I found her, I would not let anyone take her away from me.

Vampire or not, she was my imprint, and the pack had to accept that and move on. The pack’s law stated that no wolf could turn against another wolf’s imprint - that was what bothered Paul so much. His clear hatred towards vampires would inevitably expand to (Y/N), and now he couldn’t do anything to her. I understood Leah hating on the vampires - the redhead was responsible for her father’s death, and the Cullens’ very presence triggered her transformation, making her the first known female shapeshifter. However, she hated the wrong vampire - (Y/N) was not the issue here, the redhead was.

We sat around the table for a solid hour, not talking, just thinking. Jared was on his tenth muffin by now - “nervous eating” he was calling it. Nobody from the rest of us was hungry anymore; we were all worried for Paul, for me imprinting on a vampire, for tomorrow’s training with the Cullens, for the upcoming battle.

We heard someone coming closer to the house from afar - sniffing the air around, we knew it was Paul. He entered the house, looking calmer than he did before. He came to my side, extending his hand to me. The moment I grabbed his, he pulled me up and into his arms in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, brother. I should have not overreacted. I know you cannot control the imprint. I’m just..worried, scared, for everyone. I’m sorry for what I said.” Paul was..apologizing? Paul NEVER apologized. I knew he meant it though.

“It’s alright, Paul. I just need you all to accept her; whatever she chooses to do with me, with the imprinting, you’ll have to accept her. She will have to be protected and taken care of, just like any other imprint.” I felt Paul tense a bit under our embrace. “Paul, I trust her. She’s good.”

“Okay, I trust you if you think she won’t harm anyone. I guess she is welcome to visit.” Paul pulled away and grinned.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me. Truly.” I smiled back, and he playfully smacked my arm, laughing.

We turned to look back at the others. Everyone nodded, even Leah and Jacob who seemed reluctant and reserved at first. Only Seth was smiling widely.

“Great! A new friend for me!” He stood up, doing his “happy dance”.

Oh, God! What have I gotten (Y/N) into?

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(Y/N)’s POV

It was almost 1 pm by now, and I was driving down towards the clearing. I spent my night hunting in Vancouver Island, before swimming back to Port Angeles sometime in the morning. I took my time to dry, and I changed into new clothes I kept in my car. I once again thanked the constantly cloudy weather that has become synonymous with the state of Washington but was actually ideal for me and other vampires to walk around quite unnoticed.

I arrived at the clearing just a couple of minutes after Edward and Bella arrived; everyone was present, even the wolves, who I knew would not trust us just yet to be in their human forms, and it was understandable. Just because Embry and I had a connection did not mean that we would demand the wolves to be vulnerable in front of us. They had the right to be just as suspicious towards the Cullens as the Cullens seemed to be towards the wolves.

They all seemed to have been waiting for me, as Carlisle started speaking the moment I came to stand between Esme and Edward, nearby Alice and Bella. Edward would be the translator between us and the wolves. Carlisle welcomed them and explained how the newborn vampires differ from us, after Sam’s inquiry. Jasper started talking about how they differ in numbers from regular human armies and gave a few tips on dealing with them.

“Now, the two most important things to remember are, first, never let them get their arms around you. They’ll crush you instantly. And second, never go for the obvious kill. They’ll be expecting that, and you will lose.” I saw a wolf growl, and turn his head to look at me, his face softening a bit. Embry. I smiled at him in response.

To prove his point, Jasper called Emmett first. Emmett was the clear example of a vampire depending exclusively on their raw force and strength. Though he wasn’t lacking in brainpower, Emmett was the strongest member of the Cullen family and he used that as his only gift, not having any special ability like three of his siblings did.

Emmett depended on his strength just like the newborns depended on their own, so he was a good example for the wolves to see just how such a vampire would act and react. Just like how Jasper expected, Emmett depended on his strength on this one to one with Jasper, and thus, Jasper managed to easily overpower him. “Never lose focus.”

Edward and Carlisle were next. Their fight went on for a few minutes, both managing to excellently avoid each other’s attacks, and while Edward seemed to have the upper hand as he pinned Carlisle to the ground, smirking to Jasper - “One more thing”, Carlisle turned around and pinned Edward to the ground instead. “Never turn your back on your enemy”, Jasper snarled as he rolled his eyes, being as sassy as he could.

Rosalie was up next against Jasper. Their fight was almost like a dance, synchronized, beautiful; it had rhythm, passion, accuracy. Rosalie seemed to be the most graceful of all fighters, having probably studied the moves shown before and mimicking them to the point, without getting a single piece of dirt on her. That went on for a few minutes until Jasper decided they were even.

Alice and Jasper’s fight resembled a mix of the two previous ones. It was synchronized and rhythmical, but a few punches were thrown around, both of them avoiding them. At one point, Jasper managed to catch Alice and attempted to kiss her, before she slipped out of his hands. Jasper was clearly confused until Alice jumped off the tree above him, landing on his back and lightly pecking him on the lips; the only one who beat Jasper today.

“(Y/N)?” Edward called me. “Are you up for a challenge?” He was smirking at me like a little prick. I loved that little prick, he was family, but he was a prick nonetheless.

“Do you want to do this my way or your way?” Instead of answering, Edward smirked. He thought he could win, especially now that Embry was present, and Edward could probably hear my thoughts more easily. “Got it.” I smirked back and the illusion began.

I decided to create a “whole package” illusion for everyone to see. Suddenly, there were about 15 different (Y/N)s in front of Edward, all smirking at him. I took a few steps back to watch the illusion from afar, making myself invisible in everyone’s heads. Edward was clearly trying to catch a string of thoughts, but all he could hear were the different thoughts that came from the illusions in front of him. I only allowed him to listen to them, and only them, nobody else. The voices were falling one on top of the other, so the mind-reader could not really make out what they were saying exactly.

He launched himself to one (Y/N) on his right, but that one managed to avoid his attack. He launched himself again towards another illusion and that (Y/N) grabbed him and threw him away. In reality, he fell on his feet on his own, the illusion did not grab him or throw him, but he felt as if it did. Edward was now baffled, not being able to distinguish between reality and illusion, and everyone looked at the scene in front of them curiously.

Meanwhile, I was actually sitting on the branch of a tree above the wolves, looking at Edward, standing in the middle of the clearing, confused, his eyes moving around too fast for the human eyes, grimaces all over his usually perfect face. Everyone else was still staring in front of them, consumed in the illusion I created for their own eyes only.

Everyone except for Bella, who has now noticed me and was staring at me. Was she a shield or something? I put a finger on my lips, asking her to stay quiet and just wait for the illusion to end. She didn’t say a thing, but just nodded at me, and turned back to face Edward who was still “fighting” with the illusions.

I looked down, and I realized I was almost above Embry. I smiled slightly at being so close to him. It gave me a sense of calmness and I could concentrate better on my illusion; his presence gave me a sense of control over my mind, without distracting me from my purpose. I jumped down from the tree and landed silently next to him. I looked at him carefully, trying to take in every detail of his wolf form.

His fur was gray, with black spots all around, his nose dark gray and somewhat white fur around his eyes and mouth. He was much sleeker than the other wolves but seemed strong nonetheless. His warm brown human eyes were replaced by icy gray, almost white, wolf ones.

I couldn’t help myself stroking his fur lightly, gliding my fingers through his back, feeling the extreme heat and warmth engulfing me, my fingers burning under the touch. I felt him shiver slightly, but calming completely within a few seconds. I heard some of the wolves growling. They must have felt what Embry did through the wolf telepathy, which Edward informed me about.

I let go of Embry and I heard him whimpering at the loss of touch, and I couldn’t help but smirk. He could feel the bond through the illusion, which normally wouldn’t happen. I looked at him once again before running to the other side of the clearing and jumping up another tree.

“Okay, I think that would be enough.” I told everyone and stopped the illusion. Edward was looking around confused and exhausted as if he actually fought with me. They all turned to look up at me, and I heard Embry huffing in what I assumed was a laugh. I jumped down from the tree and bowed theatrically.

Jacob walked closer to Bella and she started talking to him, but I didn’t pay attention to what she was telling him because I was too focused on Embry. I smiled at him and waved slightly. A minute or two later, Sam called for all the wolves to leave. Embry looked at me sadly and I nodded at him, thinking it would be better for him to go with the pack for now. He looked at me one last time before he ran off. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding all this time.

Bella was talking with Jasper now, and he was telling her about the time he was serving at the Confederate Army and then when he served Maria and her newborn army. I didn’t want these images in my head, so I decided to leave quickly. Getting in my car, I only stopped for a few minutes at the Cullens’ house to talk about their final plans before the battle.

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A day before the newborns arrived, the Cullens had planned to go hunting, to “power up for the battle”, while Bella and Edward would stay at their house. Alice and I - mostly Alice - convinced Charlie we would have a sleepover at their house with Bella, as he was preparing to leave Forks for the weekend to go on a fishing trip. Charlie was actually really warmed up and friendly with Alice, though it didn’t take long for me to become friendly with him, as well.

I told Charlie what I told any human who asked about me - I was Esme’s biological niece that was going to stay with them for a while. I was telling everyone that I finished school last year, and was taking online classes at the University of British Columbia, double majoring in Commerce and Environmental Engineering. He seemed to be thoroughly impressed, so he welcomed me at his home, telling me to “stop by whenever I wanted”.

While everyone was getting ready for the hunt, I dismissed their invitation, telling them I had other plans. They didn’t question me for now, so I ran back to my house to prepare mentally for what I was about to do. I wasn’t usually scared by anyone, but that was my mate. I was scared of scaring him away. I just hoped he would understand my point of view. I didn’t want to think about it too much - it was now or never. Without really thinking, I ran out of my house.

I reached the treaty line and waited for any wolf to show up. I tried to create an illusion to lure any of them in; to mimic the smell of vampires, in hopes that at least one of them would show up. A few minutes later, who I assumed were Jared and Paul showed up, growling slightly at me.

I did not flinch and I kept my voice as calm as possible. “Can you call Embry to come here? I need to talk to him.” The wolves hesitated at first, but then ran backward, towards the woods and I was left standing on the other side of the treaty line, waiting for Embry to show up.

A few minutes later, a sleek gray wolf appeared between the other two wolves. I looked directly at Embry. “Can you come over, please?” I turned to the two wolves beside me. “I won’t hurt him. I wouldn’t even think of it.”

The two wolves growled lowly, nodding slightly. Embry crossed the river to meet me on the other side. His eyes told me that he trusted me, but his packmates didn’t trust me enough to allow him to turn back to his human form.

“Can we talk? Somewhere else..?” He nodded, and I smiled at him, running away and him following me closely behind.

We ended up near Mountain Olympus’ foothills, at the Olympic National Park. Ironic - it certainly does not compare to the real thing. I got emotional all too sudden, and if I could cry, I would be balling my eyes out by now. Embry whimpered by my side, rubbing his snout on my left side.

“Just homesick. Don’t worry about it.” I paused a little bit before I continued. “The others went hunting, but I wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t do it at the party and I didn’t have enough time at the training. I just want you to fully understand what you’re in for, so you know what to expect.”

I looked at him, and he turned around, towards the woods. I heard bones crashing, and a minute later, Embry came out of the woods in his human form, wearing cut-off jeans I didn’t notice he carried on him before.

“I trust you won’t hurt me, as you trust me I won’t.”

He came and stood near me, and we both sat down on the grass. I was a bit hesitant to talk to him; I didn’t want to sugarcoat anything.

“First of all, I would like to let you know I’m a vampire.” I laughed and he joined me. “My full name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and I was born in Greece, in 1858, just a few decades after the Greek Revolution. Things were still really fluid then. Basically, we had a king, but he violated the Constitution at one point, and then he was gone. I grew up in a poor family, and I had six brothers. I was the only girl in the family. I don’t know what happened to them.” I paused and my eyes stang with venom. Embry carefully took my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

That gave me enough courage to continue. “My brothers and I had to work by the time we were 5 years old. It was the only way to sustain the family. It was hard but we knew it had to be that way. We were working in the fields; we helped with chores; the elder siblings took care of the younger ones when our parents worked, you know.”

“One day - it was the summer before I turned 18, I was walking through the woods. We had been preparing for the winter, and I had to cut some wood for the fire, so we wouldn’t get cold during winter. I..I was walking through the woods when I saw him.”

Unconsciously, I started showing Embry my memories, as an illusion formed in front of us. I felt Embry wincing beside me. The young vampire in front of us was a ragamuffin, though beautiful, with long, curly, dark brown hair and bright red eyes. I only realized now that he spared me because he wasn’t hungry, he just wanted to bite me, to make me like him.

I saw my human self, terrified and frozen at the sight. I saw the vampire launching forward and attacking me, biting my wrist. I saw myself fall on the ground screaming. I saw the agony on my face, the tears. I remember how it felt like, the pain, the burning, then the agony and the pain in my throat 3 days later, when I woke up as a vampire, and the one who bit me was nowhere to be seen.

I forced the illusion to end. I didn’t know I was breathing heavily - I didn’t even need to breathe at all - until Embry grabbed both of my shoulders and held on to me tightly.

“Focus on me. Please. Take deep breaths.” I couldn’t focus on his eyes, my mind was running wild. He brought me closer to him and hugged me tightly. His warmth engulfed my whole body and I felt at ease. I smelled him deeply - he smelled of dirt and grass, but also pines, wood, and the ocean. I wondered how I smelled to him. Was it as bad as the wolves say we smell? Did Embry tolerate my smell for the sake of our mate bond?

“Thank you for being here,” was all I could tell him.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, in each other’s arms. I felt comfortable enough with him, my undead heart melting and my cold, hard-like-porcelain skin shivering under his touch.

“Embry?” He puffed a little, questioning me. “Please, be careful tomorrow. I cannot lose you, not now that I finally found you.”

He laughed. “I should say the same for you.” Now, I laughed. “I cannot lose you, (Y/N), not now, not tomorrow, not ever.” His eyes were serious and loving at the same time.

I didn’t want to ruin the moment but I kind of had to. “Also..um, Embry, I..I have to go..hunting, if you don’t mind.”

He pulled away a little bit, studying my face. “Let’s go!” He smiled, standing up, running to the woods, and turning into a wolf, his jeans wrapped around his left leg. I followed after him, stunned at his actions.

[monachopsis-11]

So I’ve decided the best place to start is with how I realized I’m autistic. I honestly hadn’t ever had any exposure to anyone on the spectrum so I had no clue what Autism even was and I’d barely heard it mentioned either. So I’d been doing research online for years about different mental disorders and all kinds of other things trying to self diagnose but I could never find anything with more than a few symptoms I related to. Anyway you could imagine my surprise when I was reading Lady Midnight and relating to Ty Blackthorn intensely. Now I don’t actually have all of the more stereotypical behaviors that he has but it was the first time I’d ever related to a characters behaviors. I’ve always been a huge reader, I read my first magic treehouse book in kindergarten and never stopped and most of my special interests have been books/movies/tv shows/characters. So I’ve definitely found a lot of characters who I related to emotionally because of struggles they were going through that mimicked the things I experienced but with Ty I could actually relate to what he was doing. I don’t remember all of the examples but I remember him organizing his books by color, asking about things other characters said that didn’t make sense to me either, having sensory issues, and wearing headphones. Now this is just off the top of my head but I know there were more as well however in the book the characters are part of a government that doesn’t acknowledge mental health/neurodiversity etc. so the other characters don’t know Ty is autistic. Then all the sudden I’m reading a half a page interaction where another character who grew up in the human world and has basic knowledge of things says:

So I went “huh autistic? This could be worth researching.” And proceeded to create a 37 page Google doc with everything I read that seemed important color coded according to how much each symptom/experience related to me. From there I proceeded to obsess over it for weeks to the point where I felt like I had made it up because suddenly I was realizing all these things that I didn’t think about before like how much eye contact sucks and how stimming can be really soothing whereas in the past I just did eye contact because other people were doing it and I only really stimmed when I was really excited (like jumping up and down flapping my hands etc.) From there I decided to ignore it because I felt like I was making it up or at least exaggerating massively so I tried to focus my attention elsewhere. Elsewhere meaning 4 college courses (Photography, English 1A, English S, Women’s Studies), 2 high school classes (Integrated Math 2), and 4 AP tests (English Literature and Composition, English Language and Composition, European History, and Psychology) without taking any of the corresponding AP classes I might add. So as far as distractions go very effective and very stressful. Finally after deciding that I was ready to think about things I proceeded to do more research, this time about autistic peoples experiences and after realizing how much of a spectrum things are and how sensory issues can change over time etc. I was finally able to accept that I was autistic and look into resources for therapy and hopefully a diagnosis at some point. So while this is obviously the short version of the story it covers the main points which I thought I’d share. Feel free to leave comments/questions as I’d love to talk with anyone who has had similar experiences.

FYI not my image so credit goes to whoever it belongs to 😊