#so much for land of the free and home of the brave

[alastorssimpforever]

judging the current state of america. i think im going to pull a George Orwell real soon.

[trippinsorrows]

in your hands + four

authors note: i know. it's been forever and a day. i apologize and hope this massive ass chapter helps to make up for things. definitely a couple (or more) things sprinkled throughout.

you must read/view THIS and THIS set of text visuals, as they include information referred to in this chapter. also, the story kicked off in september. it's now mid-october. so, roman and solana have been dating essentially six weeks.

warnings: fluff, smut, and some angst

words: 14k (she is long)

masterlist

She doesn’t belong here. 

Solana knows it the minute she walks into the club, immediately hit with the uncomfortable aroma of alcohol, weed, and potentially untreated yeast infections. 

An understandable combination, however, for just where she stands. 

Secrets. 

The biggest and most popular strip club in the city. Attended and frequently occupied by everyone from truckers making a stop in town to suits who spend their nights throwing bills at naked women instead of at home with their wives and kids. 

A man’s playpen where any and all desires can be granted.

Solana’s nightmare, but one she must brave.

Swallowing and immediately dropping her gaze when she catches the eye of a patron, she nervously clears her throat and tightens her grip on the backpack she has slung over her shoulder. 

Focused, she reminds herself. Stay focused.

Pushing past the discomfort, she tries her best to focus not on the scantily clad women who walk past her, some holding trays of food and alcohol, others seeking out potential clients.

It feels like significantly longer than what is the actual time she took to reach the counter, but when she does, she finds herself coughing, overwhelmed with the smoke from a man smoking a cigar a few chairs down. 

So much for being smoke-free establishment.

“H–Hi,” she attempts to speak, a difficult task given the loud music. “H–Hello.” Ignored, lost among the loud crowd. Solana once again has to power through her anxiety. “Excuse me!”

An effective alert that earns her a glare from the woman with a Bombshell bra, way too much foundation, and a botched nose job. “What?”

“I–” Solana clears her throat. “I’m here to see about the open position for a bartender?” 

The woman rolls her eyes, turning away to finish mixing a drink. “Go to the back. First room on the left.”

Confused, Solana manages a quiet thank you and maneuvers her way through the crowd. For it to only be 3 in the afternoon, this place sure is busy. 

The directions prove effective, it seems, as Solana lands in front of one of the biggest men she’s ever seen. A bodyguard of some sort standing in front of a door that has MVP on it written in chromatic lettering. 

MVP?

“What do you want?” 

The bodyguard barks, his voice just as rude, if not ruder, than the bartender. 

Solana repeats herself, adjusting the backpack on her shoulder. “I’m–I’m here to see about the bartender position.”

He scoffs, looking her over, stepping back enough to knock on the door. “Boss.”

“What?” A male voice carries from the other side. Solana swallows. He sounds irritated. 

“Some bitch is here about that bartender opening.” 

Being called out of her name by a literal stranger most definitely makes her wince, but she says or does nothing else, recognizing how out of her element she is. 

“She pretty?” 

Solana frowns at the unexpected question from the man still concealed on the other side of the door. 

The bodyguard looks her over once more, his gaze unsettling, pushing her to look away. “Yeah. Lil’ redbone.” 

It takes a lot for Solana to not walk away and call this a bust. That colorism shit has never settled well with her at all, but the depressing reminder that this is literally her last hope, nothing else having panned out in the past few weeks, forces her to bite her tongue. To have to bypass her morals and values. 

She has to. 

“Let her in.” 

Solana jumps when the man opens the door and motions for her to enter. “Go on.” 

Nervously squeezing the strap of her backpack, she walks past him, hating the feel of his gaze on her ass as she does so. He makes a sound followed by the door being slammed shut, causing her to jump. 

“Well, you certainly are pretty.”

Solana looks over to the middle of the dark room with blood red drapings over the closed windows, an expensive looking rug sitting under an even more expensive looking desk. Sexual, graphic artwork hanging behind said desk, serving as a backdrop for the man in question.

This MVP person, she would guess. Most likely the club owner. 

He stands and rounds the desk, Solana taking in his tall, chubby frame. He’s about her complexion, hair cut short, hairline evened off perfectly. His suit is designer, along with the shoes on his feet and probably the watch on his wrist. His eyes are light, but everything about him is just dark. 

It’s hard for her to maintain eye contact. 

Still, she has to do this. 

“H–hi.” She clears her throat. “My name is Solana Miller, and I–I’m here to see about the bartender pos—”

“Did I say you could speak?” His harsh question and vicious glare catches her off-guard. Very much not the reaction she was expecting. “Clearly, you don’t know how the fuck this shit goes—”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” She truly is. “I didn’t mean—”

He scoffs, waving her off dismissively. “Just get outta here, man.”

Solana’s stomach drops. “Wait.” This can’t be happening. “Please. I’m sorry,” she both begs and apologizes. She’ll keep doing so for just a chance. Will get on her hands and knees if she has to. “I really—I really need a new job. I–I need the money.” 

He eyes her, disgust marring his face. “You using?”

“No,” she scoffs, shaking her head. Her eyes start to water. “I just—I’m desperate.” 

Extremely so. She has to be to be standing in a place she could never even ride or drive by with a blush lifting to her cheeks. A place, never in a million years, could she see herself seeking employment. 

But, with literally every other interview or inquiry ending with her being ghosted or a flat out no, and all the other open positions paying even less than what she’s making now, she’s 100% out of options.

Again, desperate. 

He says nothing, continuing to look at her, his gaze shifting from irritated to….something else. Something she can’t name. She just knows that unsettling feeling is returning. “Take off your sweatshirt.”

She freezes. “What?”

He continues talking like he didn’t just make the most outlandish request. “It’s chilly out. You’re bound to have some type of shirt on underneath. Or, a bra. Or, maybe nothing. Don’t really matter.” He shrugs. “Take it off.”

Solana is completely lost at this moment and doesn’t hesitate to express as such. “I don’t—”

“Bartender position was filled this morning.” Her stomach literally fucking drops at his casual announcement of her crushed hopes and dreams. “But, I am down a dancer.”

Her frown deepens. “A dancer?” 

The first word Solana has always used to describe herself. A dancer since she could walk, according to her mother. The biggest thing that’s always brought her the most joy in life, but in this instance, has never made her feel such disgust. 

This is not the kind of dancer she’s ever considered or envisioned herself being. And, it comes not from a place of judgment but from the innocent, naive perspective of the 18 year-old she is who still hasn't even had sex yet but is now being considered, potentially, for the position of an exotic dancer. A position she’s not even legally old enough to hold, regardless of what her fake ID says. 

It’s like MVP is reading her mind, suddenly asking, “how old are you, kid?” 

She hates how she hesitates. “21.”

“Bullshit.” Understandable detection. She’s always been a terrible liar. “But, it’s what your card says, and that’s all I can go off of, right?” He smirks, gaze darkening once more. “I said, take off your sweatshirt.” 

Solana heard him the first time. It was just the shock of it all that had her frozen. She wants to run out. Wants to leave and wipe this horrible memory from her recollection forever, but once again, the realty of her situation weighs on her. 

The reminder of the $18.00 in her bank account that has to somehow hold her over until the end of the week when she gets a paycheck that barely covers some of her mother’s prescriptions. 

Desperate.

It’s why Solana has to bypass the light trembling of her body as she drops her backpack onto the floor and pulls her mom’s old college hoodie over her head, dropping it atop her backpack. 

Naturally, her arms attempt to cover her body. He was right in that she’s wearing a thin undershirt, but it does nothing to hide her big breast and cleavage. 

One nervous look at him, and the wolfish grin on his face turns her stomach. “Well, damn. You a fine lil’ thing, ain’t you?” She says nothing. Has nothing to say. “A lil on the fat side, but that seems to be in these days.”

The jab at her weight doesn’t bother her. She’s heard as such before. Countless times. 

MVP approaches and rounds her, Solana shutting her eyes when he makes a sound while standing behind her. “Shit, you got it in the front and the back.” Standing back in front of her, Solana has to blink away the tears when he gently moves her arms down, forcing her breast to fall, leaving her exposed in front of him. “Hmm.” She could throw up. “Nice.” Solana jumps when he gropes her chest, squeezing her breast. “They real, too, huh?”

She can’t bring herself to say anything. 

Solana gasps and grabs for her sweatshirt, holding it in front of her body the minute he steps back. She’s never felt so disgusted. 

“All the new girls get two weeks to shadow and learn how to work the pole. You ain’t got it after then? You out,” he starts, back toward her as he walks to sit down at his desk. “You’d work nights. At least 4 days out of the week. You get 70% of what you make, I keep the rest.” That slimy gaze travels up and down her body once more. “As I said, big girls are in right now, so, assuming you got what it takes, you’d easily make 10k a night. Take home would be 7k.”

At that, Solana’s eyes widen. 

$7,000 a night? 

“You do what the fuck I say, when I say it, how I say it, and everything will be alright. I get the first and final say. No matter fucking what. Pissing me off won’t end well for you.” She swallows as his tone shifts yet again to something almost menacing before that sly smile returns. “What you say, Red? You in?”

It’s an overwhelmingly heavy, difficult question. Solana came in, ready and willing to learn how to bartend, the advertised base pay plus tips putting her well over what she’s making now. Pennies. She’s making pennies now, and pennies don’t pay the bills. 

Though this….the idea of coming in here, performing and dancing for men, for anyone, in this capacity….it has her fighting back nausea. Again, she would never and has never judged anyone for stripping. She understands everyone has to do what they have to do. She’s just never seen it for herself. 

Never wanted it for herself. 

Too much. It just feels like too much. She’s 18. She doesn’t want to be having to make these kinds of decisions. She wants to be preparing to head off to school in the fall. To spend her last summer before college with friends, having fun, indulging in all of the normal adolescent things. But, then she’s reminded of why she’s having to make this type of decision. 

She thinks about the building stack of bills she’s done her best to keep hidden from her mom, the countless calls she has to dodge from bill collectors. Recalls the emergency account as well her as college fund, both now completely emptied due to insurmountable medical bills. Is hit with the horrific memory of all those nights she’s had to watch her mom coughing up blood, herself and Yolanda stressed and fighting back tears as they try to ration medicine, unable to afford the copay to get her prescription refilled. 

Desperate. 

It’s why Solana has to shove aside her morals, values, and everything else that makes her….her and sign her name on the dotted line. 

A deal with the devil himself. 

“I’m in.” 

—------------

“Ready to go see Roman?”

The small pout on Raya’s face as Solana changes her out of her Doc McStuffins pajamas into her cute little outfit, courtesy of the man in question, is easily shifted into the biggest smile. There’s a bend in her knees followed by his limbs moving happily, as she exclaims with all the excitement, “Roman!”

Solana giggles, watching her baby girl reach for the shirt she seems to have made her new favorite item. 

Roman’s shirt. 

Something she snagged from his place weeks ago and hasn’t let go since. Sleeping with it. Holding it as Solana rocks and holds her. Nearby while she plays. It’s like….like a source of comfort to her. 

Thankful when her baby girl lays on her back, continuing to play with the shirt as Solana pulls on her tights, she finds herself thinking about the man who has her daughter smiling and clapping more than she’s ever seen before with anyone outside of her mom and sister.

Roman

Just thinking of him has Solana struggling with her own smile. 

Unreal.

Something about the man feels unreal. Like, he’s too good to be true. Because, he is. Because Solana can’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that she’s stumbled into what has to be one of the most perfect men to ever walk this earth. Kind, considerate, rich, sexy as fuck with a big ass dick and wicked tongue that he most definitely knows how to use.

She can talk to him, often texting him when she takes her lunch break at work. Calls that often result in her yawning, stubbornly denying her tiredness because she enjoys conversing with him way too much. She can spend time with him. No amount of in-person interaction ever seems enough. He always leaves her wanting more. 

She can fuck him in a way she’s never been intimate with anyone. There’s something exciting, exhilarating, and enthralling about every time he bends her over and makes his way in between her thighs. It’s also the most pleasurable experience that leaves her legs shaking and speech borderline incoherent. 

And, maybe the most important thing. Definitely the most important thing.

Soraya. 

Once. Not once has Roman given even the slightest indication that Raya presents any sort of problem for this dynamic, this relationship they have going. And, Solana would know because she’s been watching and waiting like a hawk. Almost for the other shoe to drop. Because as amazing as Roman is, perfect or not, when it comes to her daughter, Soraya gets picked every single time. 

There’s not a person on this earth that comes before her child. 

And certainly not a man. 

But, none of that has been an issue whatsoever. In fact, it sometimes feels like Roman expects Raya to accompany them anytime they’re together. Like the times where she gets her sister or mom to keep her baby girl so they can have one-on-one time, that there’s a brief hint of disappointment. Like, he was hoping to see her, too. 

Not to mention his financial contributions. 

It seems like Roman is incapable of going into any store that carries baby items and not picking up something for Raya. Whether it be a toy, several toys, really, or an outfit—like the one Solana has her wearing right now—his generosity seems to know no ends. 

Even his expensive ass Range Rover he’s been letting her use while her broken down car remains just as it’s been the last few months—broken down. 

Solana hasn’t been able to drop not even a single penny on anything when Roman is around. The car always seems to have a full tank, even when she makes a mental note to stop at the gas station when clocking out. There’s no need. It’s already filled. 

Not that he would admit to handling as such. 

Or, when they go out to dinner, not very often as they both prefer her and Raya coming over so she can cook dinner for everyone, and the bill is already paid before the food even arrives. 

Not to mention….the other things. 

The white Birkin that was waiting at her door when she got in late one night, a sleeping Raya in one hand, her baby bag and Solana’s TJ Maxx purchased bag on the other shoulder. The Tiffany necklace and bracelet set he had waiting for her when she came over one day, Raya at home with her mom, so they could fuck. 

He’s even dropped a comment or two about her moving into his place. Jokingly, of course.

Right? 

“Roman.”

Soraya repeating the name of the man that seems to have them both enchanted makes all the sense in the world. 

“I know, baby,” Solana murmurs, buckling her shoes before standing her up, holding her while kissing her cheek. Raya hugs Solana, burying her little head against her mama’s chest. Solana sighs, gently rubbing her back. “I wanna see him, too…”

Always. Solana feels like she always wants to see the man, which is a bit of an issue when she also has a shit ton of responsibilities that seem like they only keep piling up. 

Financial responsibilities. 

Shaking those stressful thoughts from her head, Solana gathers up her baby girl, grabbing her already packed diaper bag as well as her purse. She makes sure all the lights are off before heading out the door, locking it. 

The car ride to Roman’s place is pleasant, Solana playing a Disney playlist on low to soothe Raya who looks around the car, like she's looking for the man she repeats at least twice during said car ride.

Roman

It keeps a smile on Solana’s face as well. 

In less than twenty minutes, Solana has pulled up to Roman’s penthouse, something that Raya has clearly learned and memorized, given the wiggling of her little body and increased babbling. 

Raya’s excitement bubbles and topples over the minute Roman opens the door, revealing his big frame dressed in a plain white shirt, khaki shorts and matching Nike’s. His hair is pulled back into that immaculate bun, but it’s that pearly white smile on his face that captures Solana’s attention. 

“Hey, babe,” he greets, pulling her in for a brief kiss. It’s brief because his attention is instantly shifted to a smiling, elated Raya who’s already reaching for him. “There she is…”

Solana easily allows Roman to take both Raya and her diaper bag, leaving her to close the door as he walks further into his penthouse. Solana is right behind him, the three of them landing in Roman’s spacious kitchen. 

Solana can only watch them.

Something warm and comforting fills her heart in seeing the way Raya looks up at Roman, reaching for his face with all the curiosity. Her smile is large and happy, complimented by his own smile that's slightly smaller but still….heartfelt almost. "I think it's safe to say she likes you." 

Solana could argue that Raya more than likes Roman, but that….that feels too much. Too soon. 

Way too soon. 

He chuckles, seemingly uncaring as Raya tries to pull on his beard. “She’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Solana scoffs, laying her purse next to Raya’s baby bag on the island in his kitchen where Roman had deposited it. “You’ve seen how she is when she’s sleepy but too stubborn to actually go to sleep.” 

Roman makes a sound, continuing to hold Raya as she pulls at his beard. “She’s stubborn. Nothing wrong with that.”

Solana rolls her eyes. “Of course, you would say that. You’re stubborn, too.” Solana goes to reach for Raya’s little jacket out of her diaper bag only to realize it is absolutely not in the diaper bag but laying on the sofa back at her apartment. “Damnit.”

Roman looks over at her, Raya continuing to babble and “talk” to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I left her jacket back at my place,” she shares, blowing out a breath when remembering something. “Wait, I think I have one here with her change of clothes.”

Roman sighs, adjusting Raya from the left to the right. “Should just let me buy her—”

“Not happening, big guy,” Solana shuts that shit down as she moves to head to the back of his place. “I’ll be right back.” He says nothing, continuing to entertain Raya as they walk into the living room where he has a damn near mini play area set up for her. 

Solana hums to herself, walking into the extra bedroom where Roman has talked her into keeping a few extra items for Raya. As well as a couple of things he’s picked up for her. Except, the minute she hits the light switch, Solana is met with more than just a couple of things. 

“What the….” She steps into said room seeing medium to large boxes leaning against the walls. A closer inspection reveals that it’s furniture yet to be put together.

Baby furniture.

A quiet scoff tumbles out of her mouth as she ghosts her hand over the expensive brand he’d purchased. Top of the line. Easily has to be close to a thousand dollars for everything. 

If not more.

Solana can’t grab Raya’s little jean jacket and hit the light switch quick enough. 

Walking back into the living room, she’s momentarily distracted by the sight of Roman on his knees, carefully watching Raya who starts crawling in his direction, only to tire of the slowness as she moves to stand, little legs rushing over to him. 

“Roman!” She shouts happily, eventually reaching and tumbling into him. That small smile stays on his face as he chuckles, holding her, and saying something to her in what Solana would guess is Samoan. Or, maybe Italian. She’s not entirely sure, but it’s definitely not in English. 

Shaking her head, Solana steps into their space, gathering the attention of both. 

“Mama!” Raya shouts, wobbling over to Solana who also moves to her knees, welcoming her baby girl into her arms. 

She kisses the top of Soraya’s head and looks over at Roman. “You mind telling me what all that stuff is that’s in your guest bedroom?”

He shrugs, crossing his big arms over his equally big body. He’s just huge. “I picked up a couple of things for her. I told you that.”

“Roman, buying her darn near a whole furniture set is not a “couple” of things.” Not in the slightest. Clothes, toys definitely, maybe even some dishes but certainly not furniture. 

He continues to remain unbothered, not seeing the issue. “I told you it makes sense for her to have all the stuff she needs here.”

“I get that, Roman, but that….you keep spending all your money—”

“Solana, I could live to be 100, and I’d never spend all my money.”

Given the ease he has with pulling out his card, not needing to use his phone to pull up the banking app and check his balance, Solana wouldn’t deny that. She wouldn’t deny that one bit. 

“But—”

“You’re not gonna win this with me. I hope you know that.” She rolls her eyes, her traitorous little daughter crawling back over to Roman who welcomes her back with open arms as she fists his shirt. “We’re stubborn, remember?”

There’s something about the way he groups himself together with Raya that has Solana’s chest swelling again with that unnamed emotion. Heavy but….nice. In the best sort of way. 

It doesn’t take long for once again traveling to commence, except this time, it’s Roman driving both herself and Raya to his cousin Jimmy’s house. The host of this get-together they're attending. Conversation during the not even twenty minute drive mostly focused on Roman reassuring her that everything’s going to be fine, they’re going to love her and Raya, as well as indiscreet planning for how the night’s going to end. 

Preferably with him deep inside her guts, his face buried between her legs, or her mouth stuffed with his unforgivable dick. 

Any or all of those things would be great. It’s been a bit of a rough week, and nothing helps her more to decompress than by getting her back blown out by the rich, handsome, older man next to her.

It’s 10/10 every single time. 

“Damn,” Solana breathes as Roman parks his car in the cobblestone driveway of what has to be one of the nicest houses she’s ever seen. The type one sees and fawns over on HGTV. The type of luxury most can only dream about having one day. 

And, she’s sitting right in front of it. 

It’s a bit embarrassing for her when she realizes she's gawking at the house. She feels severely underdressed with her Shein purchased outfit, suddenly wishing she'd wore something maybe a bit....nicer.

Overthinking distracts her from getting Raya out of the car, something Roman has already as he stands holding her diaper bag over one arm, Raya in the other. 

Solana climbs out the car, her discomfort clearly plain and visible as Roman reassures her for the eighteenth time. “It’s gonna be fine, Sol.”

Sol.

A nickname used by others. Never feeling as special when it comes from him. 

She can only nod, reaching to take Soraya from him. Partially for her own comfort and ease. 

Focusing on her baby girl will help keep her from focusing on her growing anxiety. 

Roman simply sighs and kisses her temple, hand on the small of her back as he guides her. “Come on.” 

Solana adjusts her purse on her left shoulder while continuing to hold Raya who can only look around with all the amazement, her gaze every so often falling and landing on Roman. 

Meanwhile, Solana tries her best not to faceplant and focus on keeping one foot in front of the other as Roman bypasses the front door, leading them to the side of the house through the partially cracked gate. 

Immediately, she’s slammed with the scent of grilled, fried, and fresh food. Delicious, it smells delicious. Mouth watering, Solana’s stomach grumbling, she takes in the spacious backyard. A large pool with an attached slide and separate hot tub is smack dab in the middle, a patio hosting two grills, furniture, and coolers filled to the brim with soda, alcohol, and water bottles. 

The rest of the yard is beautiful, perfect green grass, kids play things set up in several areas with a host of folding chairs to match the host of attendees that are spread across the party space. Music plays from a booth that indicates a DJ was hired.

Damn.

Solana has attended her fair share of get-togethers, but nothing like this. 

“Naw……cause growth is realizing Ebony ain’t even did nothing wrong?”

“Ain’t did nothing wrong? Man, she fucked her cousin’s man while living in her house! Diamond should have shot her ass in the ass for that shit!”

“Hey!” Solana jumps ever so slightly, thankful for Raya’s simple giggle at the bark from Roman that effectively cuts through the sea of people, snagging countless sets of eyes. “Language.”

Out the corner of her eye, she sees him gesture to Raya who’s suddenly less smiley and has her face buried into Solana’s shoulder, shyness taking over.

Loud gasps and the almost squeal of a woman. “Finally!”

Solana stills a bit when the woman appears in front of her. Several. They all wear friendly expressions while moving in her direction, but that does little to settle the nerves bubbling in the base of her stomach.

It’s Roman’s hand on the small of her back, his fingers gently raking across that calms her just the slightest.

“You must be Solana.” The woman who spoke first greets. Solana has to take a second to catch herself. This lady is stunning. Deep complexion complimented by her colorful makeup and box braids with neon colors strung throughout. Her features seem almost too perfect. “I’m Naomi.” 

Solana opens her mouth to respond when Roman takes the lead for her.

“Solana.” She looks up at him, gently bouncing Raya who continues to keep her face buried, stranger danger on full-on display. “Naomi is my cousin Jimmy’s wife,” he shares, moving to point to the other women. “This is her best friend, Bayley.” A small wave from Bayley as he transitions to the last woman. “And, this is my cousin, Ava.”

“Alleged,” Ava snorts, faux whispering to Solana, using her hand to hide her mouth. “I’m way too good to be related to someone like him.”

Bayley makes a ‘ha’ sound. “Dude, I been saying the same thing since we were kids.”

Roman scowls, lowly growing, “fuck ya’ll.” It puts a small smile on Solana’s face, as she bites back her laughter. She also makes note and appreciates the way he works hard to keep profanity from hitting Raya’s ears, something Solana had previously shared with him. Explained how she tried not to cuss around Soraya, a boundary and rule he's continuously respected.

He’s been great with it, actually, now that Solana thinks about it. Especially since whenever Raya isn’t around, Roman curses like a sailor. 

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Solana greets, looking at her daughter. “This is—”

“Oh, we know exactly who this is,” Naomi interrupts with that same friendly smile, focusing on the little girl in Solana’s arms. “This must be the fabulous Soraya.”

A thought crosses Solana’s mind. Has Roman spoken with his friends and family about Raya?

About her?

“This is,” Solana giggles, talking to her baby girl. “Can you say hi, Raya?” Glancing at the women, she explains, “we mostly call her Raya.”

“She’s so cute,” Bayley makes a face and pouts, leaning down, hands on her knees, trying to capture Raya’s attention. “Hi, Raya.”

Ava and Naomi make similar attempts to interact with Soraya, Solana attempting to help by continuing to ask Raya to say hi.

And, finally, she does. 

“Hi.” The softest, cutest thing accompanied by Raya offering a quick wave before burying her face back into Solana’s shoulder, all the while looking over at Roman who winks, making her giggle. 

Gasps around, as Ava shares, “wait, because why are you so adorable?” Raya, as if understanding the compliment, wiggles against Solana who can’t stop smiling at the wholesome interaction. Ava then looks up, eyes pleading, “can we hold her?”

Solana can barely open her mouth when Roman steps forward. “Not without washing your hands.” Solana looks up at him, withholding her giggle. She was going to ask about as such, just not as….blunt. “And naw, hand sanitizer don’t count. Ya’ll not about to get her sick.”

Naomi sucks her teeth. “Okay, Dr. Reigns.” 

He ignores her smart comment, instead pointing towards the house. “Go on.” Bayley glares, subtly flipping him off. “Use your feet.” 

“Roman,” Solana lightly scolds, switching Soraya from one side to the other, her baby girl continuing to look between the people who’ve always seemingly become enraptured by her.

But, right when the women leave, rushing to cleanse their hands so they can hold Raya, a new group arrives. This time, a group of men, and judging by the nearly identical look of two of them, Solana has a good guess about the identification of ⅔ of them. 

“Jimmy and Jey?” She asks, hoping to God she’s not wrong. Roman has definitely mentioned them once or twice.

One of them throws his hands up. “You got it, Lil’ Bit!” She cracks a smile, relieved to not have embarrassed herself in front of Roman’s family. 

Not yet, anyway. 

The one with more of a pronounced, salt and pepper beard and freshly done braids slaps himself on his chest. “I’m Big Jim, and this is lil brother, Jey.” He points with one finger to the man slightly shorter than him with an…..interesting hairstyle. Much like the man on the end with a complexion similar to Naomi, different hairstyle, and piercings she’s not used to seeing in men around his age range. 

“And this Truth,” Jey introduces. “My brother-in-law.”

“Don’t worry,” Truth speaks with a little more volume than necessary considering the close proximity of everyone. “My sister ain’t here.”

“That’s cause she ain’t allowed at my house,” Jimmy says with a slight eye roll, offering. “Her ass crazy.”

Solana’s jaw drops once more as Roman chides his cousin for the profanity. “I–umm—”

“Awww,” Truth starts, jaw dropping, hand over his mouth. “Well, look at what we got here.” He leans over ever so slightly, trying to be at eye level with Raya. His voice is sugary sweet and coaxing, perfectly appropriate for a child. Much unlike what comes out of his mouth. 

“Hi there, lil’ light skin baby.”

“Truth!”

“Why would you even say that?”

“I don’t know we even keep trying with your slow ass.”

The chorus of protests and slaps from the twins are ended with Roman correcting him with all the baritone of his deep voice. “Her name is Soraya, Truth.”

“We call her Raya,” Solana offers, somehow knowing he means well. His delivery is….something, but he really does have a….gentle aura about him. 

They all do.

“What?” Truth appears genuinely offended and confused as to why everyone else around him is offended. He shakes his head, looking at a still smiling, seemingly amused Raya. “Why don’t you go on and tell Uncle Truth what you wanna eat?”

As Solana’s brows furrow with confusion from the ‘uncle’ comment, another round of aggravated sighs emanate around her. 

Roman closes his eyes. He looks like his patience is truly being tested in this moment. “Truth, don’t start with that.”

Solana frowns, looking between the men for some insight. “Wh–what?”

“Man.” Jey shakes his head, gesturing to his brother-in-law. “Truth think he can talk to and understand babies.” 

As Solana does her best to hide her confusion, this Truth person protests, “I can!” 

“No, you can’t, Truth.” Roman objects, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You can barely understand your damn self,” Jimmy scoffs, earning an elbow in his side from Jey. “Oh! What was that for?”

Jey points to Raya. “Don’t be cussing in front of the baby.”

Solana can only laugh at the….interesting bunch.

“Okay!” Naomi’s voice sounds as the ladies return rushing over, Ava not hesitating to shove her way between the twins. However, Naomi is first, standing at the front of the line with a hopeful expression. “Hands are all washed.”

“For at least a minute?”

“What are you, the CDC?” Ava scoffs, fully ignoring Roman, as she looks and directs her statement to Solana. “Is it alright?”

Solana nods. “Sure.” Her lips linger for a second against Raya’s temple as she reaches her baby girl to Naomi who perfectly accepts the handover, awwing with her mouth open as Raya continues to look at them with all the intrigue.

“Hi, Raya,” Ava speaks, giving a little wave. “I’m Ava.” 

“I’m Bayley,” she greets, the group laughing when Raya starts babbling. 

“She’s saying it’s very nice to meet everyone.”

“Truth!”

Solana can’t hold in her laughter as she watches how naturally everyone takes to Raya and vice versa. Fiercely protective of her daughter, it’s a new experience being around people she just met less than half an hour ago only for them to naturally connect to not only herself but her little girl.

Far from what she was expecting but oh so appreciated.

“She’s such an adorable little girl.” Ava compliments as she’s now holding Raya who pulls at her necklace, clearly trying to snatch it off. 

“She looks just like you,” Jey points out, both him and Jimmy also trying to interact. 

Pride swells in Solana’s chest. “Thank you.” Given the non-existent relationship Raya has with Cruz and just how awful of a person he’s been since Solana disclosed her pregnancy, anything that her little girl can take from her and only her is so appreciated. 

“Babe.” Solana looks up at Roman, feeling him take her hand as he gestures over to the tables with food. “Come on.”

Her smile dims, that protectiveness rising to the surface as she looks back at Ava and Soraya. “It’s okay. We can watch her.”

Naomi shakes her head, sharing as she accepts Raya from Ava. “Can we keep her for a bit? It’s been so long since I’ve had a baby girl to love on.” She takes Raya’s hand, gently wiggling it, one again evoking laughter from Solana’s pride and joy. “My daughter is 8 going on 18 most days.”

There’s a bit of apprehension. Understandable, in Solana’s eyes. She literally just met these people. But, the open layout won’t allow Soraya to be anywhere Solana can’t see. She’ll have eyes on her the whole time. 

“Okay,” she relents, Bayley accepting the baby bag from her. “Just let me know if you need anything—”

“We’ll be fine!” Ava dismisses, the women all clearly in seven heaven with Raya who seems just as happy to be the center of attention.

“Told you.” Roman moves to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. 

Solana playfully rolls her eyes, as he leads her over to the food so they can fix their plates.

But, near the tables where the delicious smelling food is laid out are two other individuals. Caucasian men who chat quietly among themselves, one on the thinner sider, the other a bit more stocky. 

The thin man with two-toned hair pulled back into a bun, similar to Roman’s, starts with a small grin, seeing the two of them head over.

“Big Dog,” he greets, him and Roman exchanging that man hug before Roman does the same with the other one. 

“Solana.” Roman looks down, moving to stand back beside her, hand resting on her back. “This is Seth and Dean. Two of my oldest friends.”

“We go way back,” Seth chuckles, offering his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Solana. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” For some reason, that’s surprising to her. It’s obvious Roman has talked about her. His family confirmed as such, but just how much has he talked about her? “Good things, I hope?”

“Totally,” Dean chimes, right before abruptly opening up a bag of chips, stuffing his mouth and offering a muffled, “Dean.”

Solana smiles. She can already tell he’s an….interesting soul. In the same way Truth is, but still….innocent. 

“Well, it’s really nice to meet both of you.”

“Same,” Seth agrees. He motions behind her. “And, I take it the star of the show over there is Soraya.”

Solana’s smile naturally grows. “You’d be correct.” She turns around, seeing that Raya is still very much enjoying all of the attention and interaction. “I’d introduce you, but….”

“I get it,” Seth chuckles. “I have a daughter, too. The gang here see a cute kid and lose their shit.”

“Word,” Dean says, Solana trying to hold back her laughter. A character for sure. 

But, as Roman and Solana prepare their food and chat with the other two men, another conversation transpires revolving primarily around a certain Soraya Miller.

“I’m not even being dramatic, dude.” Bayley starts, sitting Raya on her lap as the little girl plays with her necklace, clearly intrigued by the locket. “This has to be the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Isn’t she?” Ava is in awe, trying to capture Raya’s attention with peek-a-boo.

“She is a cute—”

“Psst.”

The way the group collectively cuts or rolls their eyes at what they all know is about to be some shit. 

Jey, however, is the brave soul. “What, Truth?”

He looks around, as if expecting someone to eavesdrop before pointing to Raya. “Ya’ll know this Roman baby, right?”

“Oh my God.”

“I knew it was gon’ be something with him.”

“Why do ya’ll even still hang out with him?”

“Truth.” Jimmy closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is not Roman’s baby. This is Solana’s baby.” 

“Man,” Truth dismisses, clearly grounded and cemented in his baseless theory. “Look at her.” The group does, Raya clapping and giggling, completely oblivious to the conversation at hand. “She look just like him!”

Jey opens his mouth to protest when he takes another look at Soraya. “Hey….” Several sets of eyes land on him. “I’m not saying Truth right, but….she do kinda favor big Uce.”

“Lord, not you, too,” Naomi groans. 

“I’m just saying,” Jey defends, his hands up in an almost surrender motion. “I can kinda see it.” He then takes it a step further, asking his twin brother something that’s been on his mind since the two arrived. “Does Solana look familiar to you?” 

For the life of him, he can’t figure out why, but there is definitely something familiar about his cousin’s new girlfriend. Like, he’s seen her somewhere before. 

He just can’t figure out where.

But, as Jimmy goes to reply, offering a small level of agreement, Truth does what Truth does best.

“It’s cause they all light-skinneded’!”

“Truth, shut up!

—--------

Natural.

It all feels so natural. The way Solana and Soraya seem to blend in with Roman’s inner circle. Everyone is so nice and friendly. Hilarious as well. Jimmy and Truth are most definitely the comedians of the group. Dean is too, in a weird sort of way. He’s not necessarily trying. Just being himself.

The story she’s told about their meeting with Roman way back in middle school makes all the sense in the world. Three stubborn kids who couldn’t get along and landed a detention one day that made them realize they had more in common than they initially realized. 

Classic.

“She’s so beautiful!” Solana compliments, handing Naomi back her phone that shows a picture of her and Jimmy’s daughter, Aniyah. “Why isn’t she here?”

“Chile, she with Jimmy parents getting even more spoiled.” Naomi answers, placing her phone back in the pocket of her jean shorts. “Plus, this is an adults only get-together.”

At that, Solana stills. “It is?” Naturally, her gaze falls over to where Roman is talking with the rest of the men, holding Raya who hits at him, clearly wanting his attention and not liking having to share it. Roman takes her hand, letting her shake and play with it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—Roman didn't—”

Because, he most definitely did not tell her Raya wasn’t technically allowed. And just like that, she feels bad.

“No,” Ava cuts in. “Raya is absolutely fine. We wanted you to bring her. Wanted to meet her and you.”

It’s helpful reassurance, for sure. Moving, too. They wanted to meet her. 

Meet Raya.

Solana hasn’t forgotten Roman’s not so great description of his twin sister, but so far, everyone else in his family more than makes up for it. Bayley then adds, “Absolutely. It’s really just Jey’s bad ass children no one wanted to deal with.”

That being the second or third time someone has alluded to Jey’s children, Solana has to ask, “are….are Jey’s children really that bad?”

Naomi blows out a breath, asking, “you know the show Beyond Scared Straight?”

Solana nods. “Yeah.”

“They got rejected for being too horrible.” Solana’s eyes widen. What the hell? “That should tell you everything you need to know.”

“Doesn’t one of them have a court date coming up soon?”

“Hell, probably.” Naomi shakes her head at Bayley’s question as Solana continues to sit partially floored. Jey seems so nice and friendly. It’s hard to imagine him with such…..difficult offspring. “Man, they keep hogging her.”

Solana refocuses to see Naomi scowling, watching Raya, still being held by Roman, interact with Jey who makes some sort of up and down hand motion. Like, he’s trying to show her how to do something. 

“She really is such a sweet baby. You can tell she takes after you.”

Ava’s complement makes Solana’s stomach flutter in the best way. “Thank you so much.”

“How old is she again?” 

Solana smiles with all the pride of a mother. “She’ll be one in two weeks.”

Naomi gasps. “Her birthday is coming up?” Solana nods, watching Naomi pull her phone back out as she unlocks, does some tapping and hands it to Solana. “Give me your number, and text me what size she wears so I can get her something.”

Solana barely has time to protest when Ava and Bayley express the same, also asking for Solana’s number so they too can buy Raya something. 

“No, you really don’t have to—”

She’s cut off by Bayley sucking her teeth. “Way too late for that, dude.” Biting down on her bottom lip, Solana programs her number, as Bayley asks, “are you throwing her a birthday party?”

A bit of embarrassment fills the young mother as she gives Naomi her phone. “No. Umm….just a little get-together with my mom, big sister, and her family.” 

Her explanation isn’t met with any looks of judgment or confusion, which is partially what Solana was expecting. What mother doesn’t throw a birthday party for her daughter’s first birthday?

A broke one.

That’s who.

It’s a depressing thought. Solana would love to celebrate Soraya the way she deserves, but financially, she just can’t cut it. 

And, it sucks. It sucks a lot. 

“Well, you can bet baby girl will be getting a bunch of gifts from her new aunties,” Naomi announces, smiling with excitement. “I love shopping. Especially for babies.”

“Thank you, but you—you really don’t have to.” You don’t even know me, is what Solana really wants to say.

“Too late,” Bayley cuts her off, however, clearly uninterested in anything that doesn’t revolve around trying to land on what gifts to get for Raya. “Okay, they’ve had her long enough.” 

“Agreed,” Naomi sounds as she and Bayley make their way across the yard, fed up with having to wait their turn to play with and hold Soraya. 

Solana can only chuckle. 

One thing for certain, her baby is sure to sleep good tonight.

“He’s good with her,” Ava’s voice pulls Solana from her thoughts, as she one again looks over to the group. Roman stands arguing with Naomi and Bayley, clearly not wanting to hand over Raya who seems more than content being held by the man.

“He is.” Solana agrees. The way Roman has been so patient, understanding, and kind to her daughter is one of the biggest reasons she adores him as much as he does. The sex is amazing, but him being good to her daughter?

Priceless.

“Gotta admit, it’s a little surprising. Never really took Roman for the family man, but now that I think about it, it makes sense.”

Solana frowns, angling her body towards his cousin. “What—what do you mean?”

Ava sighs. “Roman’s parents…..they’re not the best. Actually, if I’m being honest, they're pieces of shit. Always have been. It’s why he has a poor relationship with them to this day.” Solana recalls Roman hinting as such but has never really pushed as to why. She wanted to respect his boundaries and privacy. “His twin sister, Rosalia? Total fucking bitch, but it’s not exactly unwarranted. Their parents only ever wanted a son, and they never tried to hide that from her. Shipping her off to fancy private all-girls schools every chance they got.”

Solana also recalls him describing his sister as not being the easiest, but if what Ava says is true, and Solana has no reason to believe otherwise, it definitely does make sense. 

And, in a weird way, Solana can relate.

Can relate to Rosalia. 

She, too, knows what it’s like to feel unwanted and unloved by a parent. 

To be abandoned.

Needing to pull from her own unresolved issues, Solana inquires, “and Roman?”

Ava scoffs. “It’s hard to say if he had it worse. He was mostly kept here, and while his parents never hesitated to dump him on nannies, they made it clear when they were around that nothing less than perfection would be accepted. His dad traveled a lot, his mom doing anything she could to never be home. He spent most of his childhood by himself. Would go over to uncle Kish’ house a lot, the twins' dad, because his parents would literally leave him home alone all the time with just the help and security.” Solana’s heart practically breaks at that. Imagining Roman as a child, even a teen, in what was probably a big ass house. An empty house. “Majority of the time they spent with him was largely focused on his tra—” Ava stops herself, and Solana finds herself wondering why. Wanting to know more, even if it is all just heartbreaking to hear. “He just really got the short end of the stick the first 18 years of his life.”

Solana doesn’t deny that. Just listening to it is….heartbreaking almost. “That’s….that’s terrible.”

Ava nods, tucking a piece of her hair behind her pierced ears. “Anytime he could be at the twins house or even mine, he would. I think he just didn’t want to be alone. He was just a kid.” She stops, a small frown appearing on her pretty face. “Just wanted a family who wanted and loved him.”

As does any kid. Roman didn’t want or desire anything that any other child wouldn't want. Should have.

Deserves.

“Obviously, he’s a man now, so things have changed, but…” As she trails off, her sight sets on the other side of the yard, as does Solana. The two of them watching how Roman, even while not holding Raya anymore, seems to be instructing Naomi, who does hold her baby girl. Most likely trying to tell her the do’s and don’ts, all the while Raya continues to beam up happily at him. Content. “Maybe not everything.”

—-------

A little while later, the group is more mixed up, primarily because of Candy by Cameo that plays as the bulk of them dance. 

A determined Jimmy and Truth trying to show a rhythmless Dean the unofficial/official choreography. However, Roman’s focus is more on Solana who holds Raya while laughing and dancing along with everyone.

There’s something that fills him seeing how natural she blends in with his close friends and family.

Like….like she belongs.

They both do. 

“I like her.” Roman looks to his left where Ava comes to stand beside him. She, too, like himself, is not the biggest on dancing. “She’s a sweet girl. They both are.”

Roman looks back over to the mother-daughter duo. “I know.”

Silence befalls them for a good minute, but it doesn’t last long. And, Roman is unsurprised. He knows her well. Knows she has something she wants to say to him.

And, she does.

Ava turns towards her cousin, more like a brother than anything. “Roman, what the hell are you doing?” He sighs. “You’ve been seeing this girl for what, almost two months now and you still haven’t told her the truth about who you really are?”

Roman says nothing at first, because there’s nothing to say. He knows it’s wrong and won’t try to deny it. “I know.”

“Do you?” She challenges, crossing her arms. “Because you yourself have said you see her at least twice a week, and in all those interactions, you haven’t found the time to tell her the truth?”

His jaw clenches as he angles his body away from the group, not wanting Solana to detect the tense exchange occurring. “It’s not that easy.”

“No, it certainly isn’t. Not with how long you’re stringing this out.” She scoffs. “I’d understand if it was still only a week in. Hell, maybe two, but it’s going on six weeks, Roman.” She shakes her head. “You should have told her by now. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to.”

“I know that, Ava. I’m not fucking stupid.” He isn’t. Roman knows the longer he goes without telling Solana the truth, the harder it will be. But, it’s also pretty fucking difficult to find the right time to tell her that he’s a fucking mafia boss and heads two of the biggest crime syndicates in this hemisphere.

“I don’t know, cause right about now, I’d say that’s debatable.” Ava’s expression and voice soften just a bit. “It’s not even just that, Roman. Not even just who you are. It’s about what you’re supposed to be doing right now.”

His eyes narrow, defensiveness and a sense of protectiveness building. “That’s not what this—”

She cuts him off, motioning between the two of them. “I know that, and you know that, but what about Solana? What about when she finds out?” An important, valid question he probably hasn’t thought about a ton, if he’s being totally honest. “Cause I can tell you from a woman’s perspective what it’s gonna look and feel like.” She moves right into sharing. “It’s gonna look and feel like you found a younger, naive woman to give you exactly what you need. And you know she can do it, because she already has one child.” More softening, her voice also lowering. “And what about Raya? Have you thought about her in all of this?”

That defensiveness jumps to level fucking ten. “Of course, I have.”

Ava’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. “She’s just a baby, Roman. And, it’s obvious she already has an attachment to you.” And you to her. But, Ava opts to keep that assessment to herself. “If this goes south, it’s gonna be hard on her—”

“It won’t,” Roman’s voice cuts like steel. “I won’t let it.”

Ava just looks at him, fully recognizing the switch. The clench of his jaw, the squaring of his shoulders, the hardening of his gaze. It’s less her cousin, the one she grew up with and knows like the back of her hand, and more the ruthless, stoic, mafia kingpin that many are wise to fear.

His determination is unshakable.

“I know what I’m doing, Ava.” And that tone, one of finality, tells her without telling her that this conversation is over. He’s done talking.

She sighs, watching him walk back over to the group, as the song has ended and most are just conversing. 

“I certainly hope so….”

Roman is close enough proximity to reach for Solana who kisses Raya’s temple as she holds onto and hugs her mother. Something tells him baby girl is getting closer and closer to nap or bedtime. Her energy noticeably lessening as the hours past.

Naomi is looking down at her phone, smiling. “Oh, that was good.” She’s most likely looking at some clip of the group of them dancing. “I should post—”

“What?” Solana’s voice cuts through the low chatter, Roman looking at her. He sees it the moment it happens. The moment her smile drops, replaced with something indistinguishable. 

Fear.

“Post?” She asks, fidgeting a bit, her grip on Soraya lightly tightening. “Like…like on social media?” Naomi can’t even open her mouth to answer. “Please don’t.” Roman watches the interaction with a mixture of confusion and slight intrigue. Same as everyone else. “I—I just don’t….I don’t like her face being online.”

Naomi once again goes to respond, this time successful in her response. “Oh. Of course. I get it.” She points to Jimmy. “We’re the same way with Aniya.” She offers a small smile. “I’ll just share the clips that don’t have you and Raya in them.”

And just like that, relief appears, Solana’s entire body relaxing. Relieved. She’s relieved.  “Thank you.”

Naomi says nothing, and neither does anyone else, but Roman is certain they’re all wondering the same thing he is.

What was that about?

—-----------

Roman’s assessment proved accurate. 

Less than an hour after the social media thing, Raya started to get fussy, giggles turning into crying, wanting only to be held by her mama.

Tired. 

She was tired and reached her max for the day, hence Solana and Roman having to head out. Solana doesn’t leave without damn near everyone’s numbers and a mandatory promise to come visit sooner rather than later. 

Naomi mentioned something about a girls spa day.

Solana didn’t have it in her to explain she can’t afford anything like that right now, deciding to tackle it when that conversation arises. 

Overall, Solana would 100% consider the evening a win. Roman holds her hand almost the entire drive back to his place, the other expertly handling the steering wheel, talking and conversing about the kickback. His eyes, as well as Solana’s, frequently use the rearview mirror to check on Soraya who sits mostly quiet and exhausted in her car seat. 

By the time they arrive to his place, Roman is partially expecting Solana to come up, at least for a couple minutes. But, that doesn’t happen. 

She instead walks over to her (his) car, unlocking and opening the passenger door, strapping Raya in before turning to look up at him. “Give me like two hours.”

He looks at her, curious. “Why?”

Solana offers a small smile, gesturing to Raya who’s gradually succumbing to the sleep that calls to her. “Gives me time to get her settled and put down for bed.” A gentle kiss to Raya’s forehead prevents Solana from seeing the fleeting look of disappointment that appears in his warm eyes. 

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “You sure….you sure you don’t need….like help or something?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good.” Her smile remains the same, slipping into something teasing. “I’m sure another two hours won’t kill you, big dog.” 

The scowl on his face makes her giggle. “Don’t ever call me that crap again.”

“Noted,” she chuckles. Unsurprisingly, Roman helps Solana get loaded up in the car, placing her purse and Raya's baby bag in the passenger seat. There’s an intentional slowness and caution he uses to close the door, not wanting to startle an exhausted Soraya. 

Soraya, whose little mouth and face scrunches up as she yawns, grasping at her mother while murmuring, “Roman…”

Solana’s chuckle is soft. “Roman has to stay here, mija. It’s time for you to go night night.” Raya’s response is to pout, indecipherable sounds indicating a potential tantrum is on the horizon.

“Wait.” Solana looks back to see Roman turning to head back the elevator that leads up to his penthouse. Confused, Solana does as he asks, entertaining Raya, rubbing her lil tummy with one finger, trying to hold off that pending fussy fit. 

The sound of rushed footsteps prompts her to turn around to see Roman, something black folded over his shoulder.

She continues to look confused as he moves his hand to the small of her back, gently pushing, indicating he needs her to move. She does as such, watching his big body move to where she previously stood. 

Roman says something in Samoan, or Italian, reaching the black item to Raya. The way she continues to pout, fisting and playing with Solana now realizes is a shirt, easily morphs into a smile as she happily kicks her legs, giggling. 

A shirt.

It’s his shirt. 

“There you go….” He says, index finger moving in an almost circle on her stomach as she happily babbles, holding and hugging the shirt. 

Solana scoffs, that damn familiar feeling returning. “Wow….” Roman steps back and glances at her. “Keep this up, and you’re gonna need to subscribe and save.”

He shakes his head, moving closer and kissing her forehead. “Two hours?”

She nods, biting down on her bottom lip. “Don’t be late.”

“Oh, trust me….” His eyes rake over her with undeniable lust. It has Solana pressing her thighs together. “I won’t be.”

“Good,” she murmurs, as he backs away, hand on the back passenger door. She sees the way his expression softens as he looks back over at Raya. “Night, Soraya.”

Her response is a happy shout of his name. “Roman!”

He smiles, gently closing the door before looking back over at Solana. “I’ll see you in a lil’ bit.”

Solana nods in response, silently walking over to the driver's side, climbing in and starting the SUV.

The car ride is mostly silent, sans Raya babbling occasionally, calling for Solana, never once letting go of the shirt she continues to play with and hold close to her.

It keeps a small smile on Solana’s face for certain.

True to her guesstimate, it takes about a total of two hours for Solana to get Soraya bathed, changed, and fast asleep in bed followed up with Solana hopping in the shower and preparing for Roman’s arrival. 

A quick little shave, the spray of that body spray he seems to always compliment her on when she wears it, grabbing that beach towel that’s sure to earn its keep before morning hits. 

She bypasses anything lacy or sexy, simply settling for an oversized shirt that covers her nude body. It truly makes no sense to her to get all done up in anything when he’s going to rip it off her in a matter of minutes. 

Besides, too many items separating him from her. It’s been a long ass day. Good, but long, and she wants to end it in the best way she knows how. How to decompress, that is. 

By riding the shit out of his big ass dick. 

Solana feels a bit embarrassed by how quickly she hops off her sofa at the sound of three light knocks. A quick glance through her peep hole is probably unnecessary, but she’s always leaned on the side of safe than sorry. 

Tried to, at least.

Smiling all giddy and elated, she unlocks and swings open that door with way too much enthusiasm that only grows when she sees him. He’s also clearly showered and changed, bun not as neat, slightly messy. She loves it. 

Dark gray sweats hang low accompanied by a plain black shirt as well as Jordans. His gaze sweeps her over, settling on her breast that press against her tee, offering a nice outline of her nipples.

Roman welcomes himself inside, grabbing her by her ass and pulling her into him. Solana inhales deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne. Masculine and woodsy. It’s so him. “What took you so damn long?”

She smiles as he leans down to kiss her. Solana’s hands move up his shirt, grasping onto his shoulders as she smiles into said kiss. “Patience.” 

He scowls, kicking the door closed behind them. One hand stays palming her ass cheek while the other moves to lock the door without even needing to look. “For you? That shit’s impossible.”

He kisses her once more before his eyes lift above and behind her. “She sleep?”

Solana nods. “Didn’t take very long. She was tired.” She drops her hands, scrunching the bottom of his shirt. “Though the two shirts she’s now sleeping with in her crib could also be factors.”

His eyes seem to light up at that. “Yeah?”

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t get them away from her.” At some point, Solana might have to talk to Roman about the non-existent sustainability of this shirt thing. Keep it up, and her baby girl’s crib will be filled with nothing but men’s shirts. It’s fine now, especially since, for whatever reason, Soraya seems to find comfort with them. 

But, eventually, they’ll have to figure something out. 

“Hey.” Her voice lowers, Roman’s hands shifting to her hips, continuing to hold her close to him. “I really enjoyed myself today.”

His lips lift into a small grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods, unable to not mimic his grin. “Your family and friends are amazing. You were right. I….I really didn’t have anything to worry about.” It feels like night and day. The anxiety that filled her when he first mentioned/invited her to meet them all. Now, she finds herself wondering about when the next get-together will be. “And more importantly, they….they took to Raya so well.”

“Of course, they did.” He sounds like he can’t understand why she would think or anticipate anything different. “Like mother, like daughter.” The back of his hand brushes against her cheek. “What’s not to love?” Fluttering in her stomach is accompanied by the blush on her face when he leans over and kisses her forehead. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I did,” she reassures, holding onto him. “Learned a lot about you as well.”

His brow lifts. “Oh?” She nods, giggling when he starts to scowl. “What the fuck did Ava tell you?”

Her giggling deepens. They have such an adorable relationship to her. “Nothing bad.” Nothing serious anyway. “I just….why didn’t you tell me you’re a fighter?”

There’s a shift in Roman’s disposition. It’s felt in the way he almost tenses against her. “What?”

“At the Warehouse?” He relaxes just a bit, though the initial reaction slightly confuses her. “I mean, it makes sense….” Solana drinks him in, imagining the clothes were non-existent, leaving him in the buff. Nothing but thick, strong muscles accentuating his big body. God, she needs him, and she needs him now. “But, I don’t know….maybe I could come see you fight sometime.” Her daughter too young to be exposed to that sort of thing, so Solana would definitely have to have either her mom, sister, or Kayden keep Raya, but with enough time given in advance, that could be arranged. 

Except, that doesn’t seem to be anything on Roman’s radar. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Solana scoffs quietly. “Why?” Wiggling her brows, she dances her finger down his solid chest. “Might be kinda sexy to see you kicking ass.”

Far from a violent person, there’s something appealing and alluring about imagining Roman in the ring fighting. Dominant. Leading. 

Sexy.

His scowl remains as he shakes his head. “That’s….that’s a different part of my life.” At that, her smile dims. “I want to keep that separate from you. Separate from Raya.”

By the end, she’s frowning. Everyone is allowed to have their thing, but she’s not fully understanding just what about this would make him want to keep it away from her and Raya.

“Roman—”

“Baby.” It’s disgusting how her thighs clamp together just from a single word. “You know I could talk to you all night, but that’s not what I came over here to do.”

It’s redirection, or maybe just avoidance. Regardless, it’s effective, nonetheless. 

Solana lowers her gaze and eyes, licking her lips. “So….” Slipping her hand past the waistband of his sweats and boxers. Solana gasps at the same time his jaw clenches when she attempts to wrap her hand around him, fingers unable to touch from his girth. “What did you come to do?”

—---------

“Oh, shit.”

The minute it leaves her mouth, she knows she’s fucked up. 

And, it’s less what was said and more how loud it was. 

He’d already warned her twice before about her volume, something she already knows needs to be monitored given her daughter who sleeps peacefully in the room over. The last thing anyone wants is for Raya's sleep to be disturbed, but none more than Solana and the man both behind and under her.

“Hmm,” he hums. Solana pants, doing her best to prepare for whatever awaits but never once stopping the gyrating of her hips. It’s addictive and sinfully delicious the stretch of his massive dick inside of her. How overwhelmingly good it feels to have him so deep, touching and hitting against her G-spot. His lap is nothing but a resting place for her juices that have to have that beach towel soaked. Understandable given this has to be the third round. Maybe fourth. 

Truth be told, she always loses count after the first. Its strength always too discombobulating for her to be tracking anything. 

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” He asks in a dangerously calm voice as she transitions to bouncing on top of that God-tier dick. Roman trails his lips against her temple, one hand going to and squeezing her left breast. “Answer the question, Solana.”

Her “answer” is a moan and a ‘fuck’ she has to bite back and keep within as he presses the rose even closer to her clit. How she’s not screaming is a mystery to her, because he must have adjusted the setting. 

It’s never felt like this.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, trying to push the rose away, the overstimulation becoming too much. “Please, Ro—”

“But, you weren’t a good girl, were you?” His deep voice is both irritating and alluring and has her juices continuing to leak out of her stuffed pussy. "You didn't listen." His dick is suffocating and unforgiving, completely consuming and squeezing every inch out of her tight hole. “So, why should I help you?”

“You’re—fuck you.”

His chuckle reverberates against her as he moves to play with her nipple. “But, that’s what I’m doing, sweetheart.”

A truth she can’t deny unlike the burning of her thighs from having been in this position far too long. 

He’s sitting and propped up against her headboard. She’s straddling him, her back into his front, her legs spread on either side of him as she leans back, continuing to ride him. But, that’s not enough for Roman. The basics are never enough for him. He has to take it a step further, and this time, it comes in the form of using her rose on her clit while she bounces atop his lap. 

Again, too much.

He starts kissing along her shoulder, praising her endurance that comes from fuck knows where. She should be completely immobilized at this point. “And, you do such a good job for me.” Her eyes flutter shut, Solana suppressing another scream as he once again moves that damn rose even closer into her clit, deepening its impact, all while he continues to play with her titties. “Perfect lil’ thing….”

“Roman, I can’t—” She stops, her movements slowing, the sensations too immense. “I’m gonna–ahh!” She reaches for his wrist, trying to pull that damn rose away from her. Solana feels like she’s seconds away from borderline sobbing. “Roman, stop.”

“Is that really what you want?” No. It’s not what she wants, and he knows it. He knows her, knows her body, her limitations, when she’s at her breaking point. Has learned her all too well. “Naw….that’s not what you want.” She can practically see the smug ass grin on his handsome face as he continues to use that evil ass toy to torture her. “You love when I do this shit. Stretch this pussy until you can’t take it anymore. Make you all dumb, fucked out, and crying over my dick.”

The strangest, most non-existent sex sound leaves her mouth when he uses one of those big ass hands of his to cup both her breasts together in a way that has her head craned back, laid on his shoulder. 

Mouth ajar from the erotic of it all, he steals a kiss, dropping her heavy breast to angle her head so he can claim her mouth the same way he’s claimed her body. It’s uncomfortable in a sense, the contortionist approved position he’s finessed her into, but it’s a position that has her feeling pleasure in every inch and orifice of her body. 

It’s a nasty, spit swapping, tongue dancing kiss that has her body on fire, her orgasm pushing closer and closer to the surface. And, he knows it. It’s why he, in what feels like mere seconds, has ditched the rose and their current position for something else. 

His favorite.

“Shit, Roman.” It takes a godly amount of self-control for her to be mindful of her volume as he rocks into her with his massive dick. “Yes, baby, fuck me. Just like that. Oh.” On all fours, her ass tooted up and back arched perfectly—just how he likes—she struggles to keep from screaming, alerting the whole damn building just how good he’s fucking her. 

Roman’s hands dig into her hips, likely to leave some sort of marking or bruise come morning. Not that she cares. It won’t be the first time. 

She bites down hard on her bottom lip when his hand comes down on her ass. “Like that, sweetheart?”

All she can do is nod furiously, tears spilling over from how he drives into her, heavy balls slapping against her ass, her wetness smeared and leaking all over him and her. It’s almost concerning how wet he makes her pussy. Sometimes without even having to touch her. 

The man is dangerous. 

She gasps when he fists her hair, yanking her head back to smash his lips onto her while his hips grind that equally dangerous dick into her tight ass cunt.

“Could play in this pussy all day,” he murmurs, Solana’s mouth dropping open against him, her will crumbling and body failing on her. It’s all too much. 

“Please,” she sobs. 

His scoff is cruel. So cruel. “Please what?”

Fuck him. “I–I need to—fuck—please let me come.” Solana is seeing white, blue, red, and every fucking color of the rainbow at this point. Any attempts to pry his hand off her hip, to slow down the almost animalistic way he’s fucking her is null and void. 

His hips continue to snap into her, furthering her descent into insanity. “You wanna come?”

“Yes,” she cries, feeling it coming, feeling that overwhelming, inescapable sensation he wants to prolong. Wants to play God with, and in this moment, he might as well be God. Playing with her livelihood like the deity he looks like. 

Roman makes a tsk tsk tsk sound, pulling her up so her back is pressed against his front as he continues to fuck up and into her. “You think you deserve it?” Yes. No. Maybe. Shit, she doesn’t know. She just knows she needs it. “You didn’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry.” Begs. She begs, because at this point, she’ll do whatever it takes to end this. It’s perfect and wonderful and every other great adjective, but she needs this release. “I’m sorry—”

Solana groans quietly when he moves one hand to her breast, squeezing. “Sorry, what?”

He slams into her with a brutally delicious thrust, perfectly hitting her G-spot. “Shit,” she pants, desperately grasping at his muscled forearm. “I’m sorry, papi.”

Roman’s hum of approval is the best thing she’s heard in some time. If ever. “Good girl.” Her cunt flutters around his impossible girth. “Now come for papi.”

Solana groans, hating and loving the way he controls her. Controls her body. Controls her orgasm as she comes, almost on command. It arrives, smashing and crashing into her, her entire body is shaking, trembling, damn near convulsing.

Roman kisses her, tongue and all, only breaking said kiss to continue to talk his shit, continuing to taunt and mock her as his dick drives her to sexual delirium. 

All the while he just praises her.

It’s enough to make her come all over again. 

He comes shortly after, shooting and emptying every drop of his load into her puffy, swollen pussy. 

It doesn’t bother her. Not the first time, and it most likely won’t be the last. 

Solana is studious and borderline anal with tracking her cycle and ovulation dates. She’s all but mastered the art of having this fine ass man come inside of during “safe” periods and pulling out during those “risky” periods. 

Shortly after both of them find orgasmic relief, she lays on top of him, completely spent, unable to move. The feel of him softening inside of her conjoined with lingering tremors from the aftermath of her unholy experience soothing almost. 

Eventually, Roman does all the work, carefully untangling her body from his while expertly removing the soaked towel so she’s laying on the sheets that are only partially damp from their…..activities. 

I need to just subscribe and save sheets at this point. 

Still trying to reel her senses back in after all five being fucked out of her, she’s somewhat paying attention when he gets up from the bed and walks into her bathroom. Solana partially blocks out the next few minutes, already knowing what to expect. Roman, ever the gentleman after spewing absolute filth and flipping her every which way, returns with a towel to clean her up after cleaning himself first. He tosses said towels into the hamper in her bathroom before climbing back into her bed that’s much too small for the monolithic man that he is. But, they make it work.

And, then there comes one of her favorite parts. The way he pulls her body into his, kissing her forehead, his finger trailing down her bare arm. 

Solana snuggles close to him. For a man made of nothing but hard, rippling muscles, he’s so comfortable. 

“If I’m late for work tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

It wouldn’t be the first time late night, bomb ass, life-changing sex/dick would have her pushing for time. To be fair, she’s never actually been late for work, just right around the corner from it. Still, much too close for her liking. 

Roman chuckles. “I’ll compensate you.”

Solana snorts, her hand to his chest, tracing his tattoos. “That’s the problem. You compensate me too much.”

Honestly. For someone who’s never been a very sexual person, this man and his girthy nine inches have changed all that in a matter of a little over a month.

Magic. 

He’s fucking magic.

He’s also raw. Roman’s hand behind her back slips to her ass, giving a light squeeze. “Can’t help it. That pussy is fucking addictive.”

Slapping his arm, Solana hides her smile and blush in the safe confines of his strong chest. “Shut up.” His quiet laughter fills the room, dark, only illuminated by the dim lamp she has sitting on her nightstand. 

Her eyes shut, exhaustion from all that fucking catching up to her. 

“You almost woke her up again.” 

Solana peers up at him. That’s certainly the last thing she expected to hear him say, though it’s fair given the ‘again.’

“I’m not trying to,” she murmurs. “It’s….hard.”

Very much so. Hence why he’s right for using the word again to end his sentence. Soraya has already woken up once during her mother’s…..adult time, though a part of Solana wonders just how much it was the noise that disturbed her baby girl and more Raya just being a baby who randomly woke up in the middle of the night.

But, then there’s also the noise complaint she got from one of her neighbors, and that…..that Solana can’t justify. 

“I’ll try to be more quiet,” she agrees. A difficult task, for sure, but an important one, nonetheless.

He’s quiet at first. “Her room is so close to yours here,” he says, Solana partially unsure how to respond to that. It’s not like she can change the size of her apartment. “The guest room at my place is down the hall from my room….”

She looks up, still unsure just where he’s going. “Okay….”

He shrugs, continuing to trail his finger down her arm. “I already have the furniture….”

Solana stills. 

Oh.

A nervous bundle settles in her stomach. “Roman—”

“I’m not asking you to move in.” This time. He’s not asking this time. “I’m just saying it’d probably be easier for us to have sex at my place, because it’s bigger, and we don’t have to worry about the noise disturbing her or your annoying ass neighbors.”

She starts to protest the description of her neighbors as annoying but ultimately decides against it. Not relevant. Not relevant at all.

“Roman, we mostly have sex at night….”

“Exactly,” he agrees, moving his hand to her face, thumb brushing against her bottom lip. “And, if you let me set up the room for her, then you can just spend the night.”

“Roman—”

“Just think about it,” he interrupts, already knowing her initial answer is no.

Maybe.

Because Solana can acknowledge that there’s most definitely a difference between moving in together and the occasional sleepover. One is commitment. One is ease. 

Still, thinking about it feels like the best option in this moment. “Okay,” she agrees, laying back down against his chest. “I will.” 

“Good,” he sounds, hand over hers. Solana closes her eyes once more, ready and willing to come succumb to any sleep she can get in the few hours before she has to be up and ready to tackle yet another long ass day. “Can I ask you something?” 

Solana sighs. She’s so tired. Normally, pillow talk is great, but given she works both jobs and has school tomorrow, she’d much prefer to try to get some sleep. Still, talking with Roman is never something she regrets, so….small sacrifices. 

“Sure,” she finally answers.

More hesitation as he grabs her hand, thumb tracing the scar on her palm. “At the get-together earlier, the whole social media thing….what was that about?”

Solana stills, and she hates that her body is pressed against his, because he has to feel it. Has to know what it means. Regardless, she does her best to play it off. 

“I just….I’m very protective of Raya. I don’t want my or her face online. Too many weirdos out there.”

One in particular.

“I get that,” he responds, his voice on the edge of something else. Suspicion. “But, your reaction was…..you seemed nervous.” 

“I mean, I was nervous. I was meeting your friends and family—”

He sighs. “Solana—”

“I want you to come to Raya’s birthday party.”

It’s not exactly how she planned to ask, well, tell him now, nor can she deny it’s an intentional detour for avoidance. But, a truthful thing nonetheless. 

They’re both looking at each other, so she can see the surprise shift into his pretty brown eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replies. Solana moves her hand up his chest. “I mean, I’ve met your close friends and family. Feels like it’s only right and time you meet mine.” A truthful thing. Only a little over a month into meeting and knowing, dating, Solana feels ready to take that next step of having him at least meet the people closest to her. 

Adding with a small smile, she points out, “plus, I feel like Raya would want you there anyway.”

That’s a given. If there’s one thing Solana knows for certain and can’t deny, it’s that Raya adores her some Roman.

And, if she allows herself to be really honest…..it sometimes feels like Roman feels the same way about Raya. 

“If you can, of course.” Because Solana knows despite how flexible he can be with their meet-ups and dates, he’s still a businessman. A busy businessman. “If you can’t, that’s fi—”

“I’ll be there,” he interrupts, his voice firm. Something tells her come hell or high water, he’ll make it.

“Good,” she murmurs. Solana leans up to kiss him, smiling into said kiss, their lips lingering on each other before she lays her head back down on top of him. “Goodnight, Roman.”

There’s no hesitation this time as he kisses the top of her head. “Goodnight, Solana.” 

Solana releases a sigh of content, pleased to allow sleep to capture her, but while she rests peacefully on top of the man who comes to mean more and more to her as the days past, Roman is restless.

He’s not stupid. 

He knows damn well Solana was trying to change the subject.

Just like he knows she’s hiding something. Roman takes her hand, gently brushing over the scar that mars her palm. He thinks back to the background check he had Paul run on her. Nothing came out of it. Girl’s record was as clean as could be. 

The only thing, however, he now wonders about was her brief move to California a few years back. She was only there for a couple of months before moving back to Florida. He’d always figured it was because she was homesick or just found it to not be what she was hoping or expecting. 

Now….

Now, he’s wondering if it was more. 

If there’s a story there. A story she seems determined to keep to herself. 

It has him torn. Roman is a man who likes to know things. All the things. He hates being out of the loop with shit, but even more, he hates being lied to. 

Period.

Granted, it’s hard for him to be upset with her, and he’s not, but he does wish she would feel comfortable enough to tell him whatever it is she’s hiding. 

And, then he’s reminded that if he wants her to be honest with him, then he needs to be honest with her, and truth be told, Roman isn’t ready for that.

He’s not ready for that fallout. 

Not ready to lose her.

Or Raya.

He’ll tell her. He knows he has to, but in due time. When he can explain the why to her in a way that won’t feel as jarring. 

As unforgiveable.

Until then, he’ll enjoy the now. 

--------

welp. this is bound to end well, right?

[velvetdolor]

I give my first love to you.

pairings: first love! wooyoung x first love! reader

genre: right person—wrong timing, short entry, written as a letter, drabble. first part of a three part drabble series.

wc: 1.2k

prompt: a letter you’ll never be brave enough to send.

summary: a mini drabble series beginning with an unsent love letter. I crafted two endings for the first drabble and to provide some vague insight for the characters relationships— but one of the endings is based in an alternate universe. You, dearest reader, are free to choose who to love and which universe is entirely yours—and what almost was.

next: san’s ending [green light]. next: woo’s ending [the last time]

Sometime in early August

I’m hugging my knees to my chest. The sound of a small fan breezes against my curtain, as a soft light streams through the sheer olive green fabric. A shaky inhale, a shaky exhale— I know what I need to do and I know I’ll never be ready to do it. Shuffling towards my desk, I grab at a drying pen, licking at its point before writing a letter I know I’ll never send.

“ Wooyoung. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?

I suddenly remember what it felt like to love you.

It was a sudden freefall and erasure from the life I’d known– even now, I know I’ll never be the girl I was. Everything’s now scribbled off into timelines. There was before you and then suddenly there was after you. My life became a kaleidoscope doused in your fragments and colors, and maybe we were too young to understand that the kind of love we had, we’d never find again no matter how much we searched for each other in other people. We’d look everywhere else but never back home to that old apartment that’s now inhabited by someone else and maybe they too, are in love.  The walls of our old, brief home now witness the joys of a transient life, of love in passing and hopes of forever. Do you remember my purple light? The one that bled from my window and you���d always find your gaze landing on when you came back home to me, signaling that I was awake– that I was still waiting for you. Do you walk by sometimes hoping that I was still there in that spot waiting?

In that home maybe there are people still in love, full of joy, and intent on building the future we’d never give ourselves the chance to have.

Three years later, Wooyoung, I still look for your laughter. I search through crowds and masses of people crossing a busy street or for your highlighted silhouette drenched in neon lights when I lose myself to the touch of a stranger in attempts to tire myself out of missing you.

Wooyoung, do you remember me? Do you remember us still?

These are questions I can only ask myself. I’m too scared to send you this.

I was always too scared, but you know that already, don’t you? The last time I saw you, you were kneeling and crying on the floor. I tried to stop myself from holding you, knowing that I was the only thing holding you back from your dreams– I was too all consuming, too intent on wanting too much of your time that you couldn’t afford to give without risking your ambitions, always too intense. I was so sure of my love for you, but the future suddenly morphed into an ominous question– did we run out of time? Can I do this and ever know love again? Do I love you enough to risk the loss of my heart forever, in hopes of you getting the life you’d always wanted, even if I wasn’t around to see it myself?

When I fell in love with you baby, I fell in love with your dreams that were so honestly embedded in you.

Wooyoung, now that you have it all–do you dream of me now? I don’t know what I’d do if I were to see you by accident again. I wouldn’t know what to do with my hands.  

They still ached to trace the sharp and jagged lines of your face, the ones I’d still know by touch if I ever lost my sight. I mapped you and committed you to memory. Your shapes still burned onto the back of my eyelids. 

Wooyoung, I’ve always wanted to tell you this: between the two of us, you don’t have anything to regret. You showed me love without restraint or selfishness. In the face of my anger, you’d only hold me with kindness and a gentleness so raw it scared me. I was so battered and bruised from the life that had beaten me into the emotional state I met you in, and you cradled me every day without pause, after every nightmare and good dream I was scared to have. 

I was scared of being happy Woo, and that’s why I was scared of you.

But god, I loved you so much. I drowned in you and wanted you to be the air I breathed so badly.

Please tell me you remember me too, 

but please don’t call I don’t think I’m ready to hear your voice. 

I’m a soft, eroded remnant of the knife of a girl I used to be. I didn’t realize how much grime you’d washed away from me and now the words you’d said to me make sense

“Y/N, to be loved is to change and be changed.”

Woo, I met someone and he’s nothing like you, and I think he loves me. 

I’m halfway there, but can’t find myself taking the final stretch, knowing that the closer to him I get, the further away I get from you. From us. 

I’m scared Woo, because I kissed him and for a singular moment I didn’t think of the curl of your lashes and the quirk of your lips whenever I’d kiss you at every red light. He wasn’t a replica of you and I didn’t have to project your image onto him as I’ve done to a multitude of strangers to be able to swallow their kiss.

I thought he was beautiful when I did, but I can’t shake off the intimate knowing that it’d always be you, or that i wouldn’t have met him under these circumstances if you were still around.

For now, at least– I desperately cling onto that sentiment that it’d always be you no matter how painful it is, because that ache is a vacancy that still took on your shape and it’s the last thing I have of you. If I loved him more that might change and if I told you this, I know you’d say that same old phrase as a reminder 

‘To be loved is to change and be changed, baby.’

His name is San, like a mountain. 

To love him would mean to climb the intimidating trek upwards and allow myself to freefall from his peak.

Wooyoung, I’m telling you his name because he already knows yours. 

Please know that it’ll take me a long while to let go of my clutch on you but the only thing you and San have in common is patience. 

I needed to write this down even if I burned this several days later.

Please tell her, God. I’m not a woman of faith and that’s clear to see– but please be real, even if only for a day.

Tell the woman who loves Wooyoung after me to hold him tenderly. To kiss his lashes and be patient with him as he was with me. Remind him to eat and not walk across the street without looking both ways, tell him to stop lending money to his sketchy friends, and try to get him to sleep as much as he can. 

He hates cucumbers and I needed to tell you that for some reason.

Wooyoung hates winter, so please keep him warm. As much as I envy the concept of you, I pray that a great love has found you both so that he’d never have to fall on his knees in grief, pleading for a love brave enough to hold him back. 

I have to tell you this, as some sort of halfhearted attempt at catharsis,

I give my first love to you.

Please love him back.

my dearest Wooyoung—Always partially yours and sincerely,

Your once favorite girl. 

P.S Wooyoung, I still dream of you but I hope we never see each other again even if that guts me.”

There are teardrops staining the paper, but I find myself folding the letter and licking at the seal of an envelope. I tuck it in slowly and shakily open my drawer, burying it under the mass of old t-shirts that were never mine to keep. 

Wooyoung’s heart thudded and came to a sudden stop. He saw you there, laughing next to someone new—someone who looked strong enough to protect you.

He looked for you everywhere, even now. Even when there’s a beautiful girl waiting for him at home, and he’s halfway to loving her. Scared of the final stretch.

But he sees you there, glistening like an emerald in the light of the morning sun in someone else’s arms—and he thinks about approaching you for a second. Wondering if he’d see your heart pause in your throat, love remaining in your eyes that wouldn’t be pointed at the guy holding you, but on him.

Yet he doesn’t. He’s too scared to.

He forces himself to look away, as hard as it was to pull himself from looking at the smile on your face for a moment longer, pushing the cafe door open with a final thought.

He hoped he treated you well before whispering out into the autumn air.

“I give my first love to you.”

[hidden-poet]

S. lands on top; 5

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Darkest content I have ever written. Please don't read unless you are 100% comfortable (and over 18).

Warnings: Graphic sex, violent sex, borderline torture, r*pe, over stimulation, Coriolanus is terrible, terrible, terrible, sexual assault, sex being weaponized, hitting, name calling, punishments, objectification, 18+ ONLY, Coriolanus figures out new kinks (I figure out new kinks), not a safe environment.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

Author's note: I am in no way condoning this type of behavior. This is a pure work of fiction used to explore a safe, and unrealistic feterisation of the desirability and not the actual act in itself. I am sexualizing the character Coriolanus Snow, and not Tom Bylth (I mean no disrespect or objectification to actor).

That being said, I am going to need some love on this chapter if there is a desire out there to read this sort of stuff in a safe environment and contained atmosphere. What you read cannot harm you, unless you are irresponsible and do not take measures to look after your mental and physical health. This is fiction and SHOULD NOT be brought into the real world. I can create more, but will not if it is not wanted or used responsibly.

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

 Coriolanus sat at his writing desk, completing his last assignment before the break as Mabel lay across the bed, supposed to be completing her own homework. 

But she seemed lost in thought. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Coriolanus had given up on chastising her long ago. 

Between organizing the games, attending lectures and keeping up with his course work, Coriolanus had no time to play games with Mabel. No matter how tempting she was.

 The break would be well deserved and well used. 

Completing this last assignment would free Coriolanus to focus on Mabel and her behavior. Reaping Day was only a week away, and she was inadequate to be presented to Dr. Gaul.

She knew that Reaping Day had consequences for the both of them. He told her time and time again of the dangers of Dr. Gaul, but the fight is what kept Mabel alive. If she rolled over for him once, she felt she might be stuck there.

Coriolanus could hear her as she moved off the bed. He was about to demand that she sit back down and complete her work but her footsteps made their way over to him and not out the door. 

It was the first time she had ever approached him without the intent to hurt him. It was a welcome change when she swung her leg around his waist and not a punch.  

So he put down his pen to give her his full attention, eager to see how this would play out. 

She sat on his lap, twining her small fingers into the curls of his hair. Her green eyes stared back bravely into intimidating blue ones. 

“All you ever do is work,” she states. Her voice carries a seductive tone. “No wonder you’re crazy.” 

His hips buck up into her in desperation. He scolds himself for it. He had more self-control than that. 

“Are you offering a study break?”

“I am offering you the night of your life.” 

He had no idea where this change was coming from. Just this morning she deliberately knocked a pot of hot tea onto his lap. Luckily, it had cooled enough not to burn him but it angered him all the same. 

Now she was offering herself to him. He knew it was a trick. She was playing the only card she had after fighting for so long to keep it. 

He goes to kiss her, testing how much he could get out of this.

His head is yanked back, her hands digging into his hair to keep him at bay. 

“For a train ride back home.” Mabel finished. 

His lips curl up into a smirk. He could almost laugh at her.

“Think about it, Coriolanus. You’ll bore of me sooner or later,” she begins to grind her hips into his. He fights to keep his focus. 

“This, what you feel now. It’ll be gone.” His hands catch her hips to stop her moving. Her tongue was her weapon, and his clear head was his.

“But it’s here now. You could have it.” She yanks his head back as far as she could but follows with her lips hovering over his.

He thinks about just lying. After all, there was no obligation to keep any promise he gives her. 

But he did want a relationship with Mabel, one that had a certain level of trust. She would do nothing for him without trust. And there would be no chance of her teaming up with him against Dr. Gaul. He remembers how important trust is in District 12. 

Satisfaction now could result in negative long term consequences. And Coriolanus was in this for the long term. 

She moves her lips to the shell of his ear and begins to speak gently into it. 

“You could think about me for years. Marry a pretty Capitol girl but think of me as you fuck her.” Her body was pressed tightly against him but she managed to squeeze a hand between them and knead his inner thigh.  “Think of this night, when a District girl fucked your brains out for hours.”

Coriolanus pushes her back by her shoulders. It was almost too much for him. His lust clouded his judgment. He needed to regain control, she had snatched it from him so easily. He was going to be President of Panem. Now was the time to show the cunningness it took to control. 

“I’ll be gone by morning, and you could keep the memory of me. Forget the struggles and fights. When you bore, that’ll be all that's left.” 

Coriolanus reaches out to take her chin in between his forefinger and thumb. Restricting her movements as she did to him. 

‘‘When I get bored of you, I’ll pass you along to someone else. Plinth seemed to have taken a shine to you. Maybe you Districts can bond over the home you’ll never see again.”

His words angered her, he could see it in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if he would ever bore of this. The constant power struggle. He loved it. Winning control gave him such a thrill. He loved the fight Mabel put up because he was always going to win it. He was stronger, smarter. He had  every card and she had none. Yet her nature made surrender an implausible possibility, and his competitive nature never tired of the defeat. 

“Maybe,” she spat as she tore herself from his lap, “Maybe, he might finally make me come too.” 

She threw herself back down on the bed amongst her school work. 

Her words should have upset him, he knew she came more often than not, prided himself on the fact. His ego wasn’t bruised, instead a thrill ran through him. The resistance and consequences were the most fun. 

—---------------

The next day, Coriolanus excused himself from work, claiming he had a cold. It was only midday but his tired colleagues were supportive of him going home. They all hoped that it would lead to an early mark for all of them. Sickness was contagious, it was possible for them all to have one too.

To Coriolanus’s luck, Dr. Gaul was traveling through the Districts, marking the best spots to host the Reapings. So she wasn’t there to witness Coriolanus act like a desperate school boy.

He was sure word would get to her as it always did, but there was no cold hard stare dissuading him now. 

Tigris wouldn’t be home from work until 5:30, and Grandma’am wouldn’t be home long after that. The old women hated being left alone with Mabel. She was adamant that Coriolanus build a servants' quarters where Mabel could be hidden. 

That meant that he had Mabel all to himself for the whole afternoon, and he was going to use every second.

Only a quick detour to pick up the things he would need could be excused. He made the chauffeur park a block away in front of a cafe and wrote a list. Coriolanus couldn’t be seen engaging in such disgraceful behavior but a faceless chauffeur could. 

His driver was about the same age as Coriolanus but had made some perilous mistakes that rendered him a tongueless Avox. Coriolanus had a vague memory that he used to play with a young child in his primary education days that resembled the young driver now, but Coriolanus didn’t dwell on it. That was the past, the future is what concerns him. 

The chauffeur looks at the list with wide eyes. He knew the items listed were to be used against the young girl he had taken back to the Snow’s penthouse, but he went and got them anyway. 

It was only a quick trip back to the house after that. Coriolanus tore the items out of the packages and continued accordingly. His footsteps were quick as he made his way through the large building. The people in front of him were too slow, it seemed like the elevator took years to get to him. He was just about to leap up the stairs when the doors opened just in time. 

Peacekeepers guarded his door in case Grandma’am or Tigris came home early. 

“You’re not needed.” He comments as he passes the Peacekeepers. They move almost instantly. 

He locks the door behind him, the bag crumples in his hold. 

Mabel sat sewing dresses for Tigris's shop. Despite spending her days making clothes, Mabel only had the green dress from Tigris and wore Coriolanus’s clothes to bed. 

She eyes him cautiously from the couch. There was something in his eyes that gave him away. Mabel decides the best course of action was to run.

He chases her into the dining room where she uses the long table as a barrier between them. 

They pause at each end. Coriolanus was first to make a move and Mabel reacted by swiftly moving in the opposite direction. 

The room is silent apart from their shuffling of feet. Impatient, Coriolanus throws himself across the table but Mabel jumps back to the entrance and retreats to the living room. 

Her bare feet thud across the marble floor as she made her way to the door. Her only chance was the door falsely locking. Everywhere else was a dead end. The apartment was large and filled with rooms but they were all locked and unlocked at Coriolanus’s command. 

She twisted and pulled but the door wouldn’t even budge. 

She could hear Coriolanus reaching her and she slid back across the hallway as Coriolanus came barreling into the door.  He chases her back into the dining room where he had dropped the bag. 

Before she could distance herself around the table, Coriolanus caught her arm and threw her into the polished wood. 

He managed to catch her flailing arms but her screaming gave him the headache had had lied about. 

He gathers her wrists and uses them to pull her over his shoulder so he can hoist her up.

She kicks and hits as he carries her to the bedroom, but it only gives him further justification for what he planned to do. He squats down to pick up the bag he dropped. He couldn’t leave it, given its purpose. 

With the door kicked shut, he drops Mabel on the bed and crawls on top of her, holding her still. 

They wrestle on the bed as Coriolanus struggles to take her dress off as Mable thrashes under him. 

But once off her shoulders, he took the handcuffs from the bag, attaching them easily to a bedpost where he could secure her. 

She panics as the first cuff is secured around her wrist and as Coriolanus reaches for the other, she sinks her teeth into the skin of his hand. 

He yells from the pain. The bite on his shoulder searing in pain from the memory. . 

A sharp backhand throws her down, making it easier to lock her in place. 

“I am going to fucking kill you!” She screams at him. It was a good time to bring out the gag from the bag and secure it in place. 

She continues to kick violently, still trying to hurt Coriolanus. He admired it. Beat and yet still fighting. 

He wanted her completely still so he continued his work, pulling out similar cuffs designed for her ankles and fastened them in place. What was left in the bag was two-meter lengths of rope which he tied around her knees to pull them completely open. He attaches the ends to the base of the bed with a knot he learned from his Peacekeeper stint. 

He stares admiring his work. She struggled against the restraints but could move very little. It was perfect, and he had hours to enjoy it. Unless Tigris came home early. With that thought, he locked the main bedroom door. 

With one last lingering look, he reached into the bag and pulled out the ‘pièce de résistance’. 

It was a small bullet-sized vibrator. It shook between his fingers. She kicked as much as she could as he inserted it dry. 

With the bullet doing its job, Coriolanus did his. He had wanted to explore Mabel's body for as long as he could remember. And with no pressing time limits he would complete this search now. 

He starts down by her feet, letting his lips drag over her skin. He examines every mole and scar along her. Kissing when he wanted to and biting because he could. It took a while, but he reached just behind her knee of the opposite leg he started with when she first came.

 From how slow he was going, he guessed it took half an hour for her first one. He wondered where he would reach for the next one. He smoothed his hands out over her skin, peppering kisses on odd spots. He had gone from her fingertips to her shoulder when her next climax came. 

He was in no rush to do anything. He explored her body the way he wanted to. She tried to headbutt him as he attempted to reach her ear but he caught her throat in his hand before it landed. He spent the next 15 minutes just on her ear alone. Biting and sucking on the lobe. He was still there when she came next. He moved on to the other ear then and waited until her next orgasm which took longer. 

After his mouth had left a cold, wet trail over every inch of her body, he took the time to count her freckles. It annoyed him when her body spasmed with another orgasm and he had to start again. 52 little brown dots was the final count. 

He moved from the bed only twice, first to remove his shoes, coat, and jewelry. And second, because he felt hungry around late afternoon. He went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and drink before returning to the bedroom to eat it. He didn’t want to miss Mabel's next orgasm.  

After a break of just tracing his finger around her body, and watching as she came, again and again, he decides to begin again with his mouth. 

Her legs shook from overstimulation. Coriolanus could feel them as they trembled underneath his lips. Her pussy was glistening and swollen. It looked sore from the abuse, but it was far from over. 

Her moisture dripped below her and down her inner thighs but Coriolanus just knew that her throat must be itchy and dry. He could offer her a drink of water, seeing as it had been hours of this torture, but he doesn’t.  

She had tried begging before or at least that’s what Coriolanus assumed. It could have been more insults but the crying after it made insults seem unlikely. The crying only lasted 10 minutes before her exhaustion didn’t allow her to do even that. 

She looked beautiful like this: entirely his. Under his control and mercy.

He licked the cum from her shaking thighs and moved to sit on her stomach. He was still fully clothed to add to her humiliation. 

She groaned from the weight of him. It came out muffled from under her gag but he could hear it. Her eyes were closed, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in them. 

His fingers pinched at her erect nipple, twisting it, and massaging her breast under his hand. 

Her breasts were small but a handful was all Coriolanus needed. 

Bore of this? He thought to himself. He wouldn’t object to perfunctory sex with Mabel but this is an elevated high he never thought feasible. 

A whine came from her again and he wondered if she was going to begin begging again. If she was, she was interrupted by reaching another climax that turned her begging into a muffled yell. 

Her hips buck underneath him as it ripples through her. Coriolanus watches her face as it screws up in painful pleasure. She throws her head back into her pillow three times as it passes. 

He wonders what she would say if she could say anything. Her begging is muffled, so she felt free to speak her mind but would the words flow from her mouth knowing that it would give Coriolanus confirmation. 

When her eyes fling open, it almost shocks Coriolanus. They had been closed for the past four hours. Her eyes tell him she is tired but still oh so defiant. If he was to take off her gag, he was sure that she would spit at him. 

Something about it aroused him further. 

He takes his weight off her and goes back to the end of the bed. More cum had leaked from her, making her thighs once again glisten. 

Deciding to give her a break, he reaches in and pulls the rotating device from her. It was holding in some residue cum that poured onto the bed sheets. She began breathing heavily again now that the tension was gone from her body. The poor thing thinks it’s over.

He blows gently on her abused pussy. Even the air was too much after the overstimulation. 

She tries to close her legs but the ropes stop her. 

A kiss is firmly planted on her clitoris and her wetness soaks Coriolanus's lips. She whines again, bucking her hips up to try and get him off. He cages her legs between his arms, pinning them under his shoulders as he digs his nose into the spot and begins to swirl, licking and lapping with his tongue sporadically. 

Her thighs still shake under him, and his legs join in anticipation. He rises himself to undress completely before dragging her by her knees into her own wet spot on the bed and inserting himself. She grips the chain at the intrusion. He could tell it caused her discomfort, maybe even pain as he did, but he slid in so easily. 

Her wetness meant that friction was hard to pick up so he slammed into her harshly for his own satisfaction. He had angled her so she was slightly raised from the bed as far as the ropes would allow and pounded into her with such force that she jolted at each thrust.

Her fingers clawed at what they could as Coriolanus had his way with her. 

Her swollen cunt clenched around him making Coriolanus groan in pleasure. 

The pressure around his cock got tighter and tighter as she reached another climax. Coriolanus was not far behind her after holding out for hours. 

As she came around him, it was enough for Coriolanus to come with her. 

He wanted to make a snide remark about how he could make her come but his mind was swimming. He drives his cock as far as he could into her even though he was empty. They remain like that, Coriolanus keeping Mabel there with a strong grip on her hips. Occasionally he would rock his hips back and forth, fucking the cum back into her. 

By the time Coriolanus caught his breath, he could hear the faint sound of Tigris’s heels coming down the hall. 

Mabel opened her eyes again, sure now that it was finally over. Coriolanus was hesitant to show his family his darker side. Mabel was subdued to never talk about it with threats to her family. So suspicions were never confirmed.

“Mabel?” The locked door jiggles. “Are you in there?” 

With a sigh, Coriolanus separates himself and goes over to the other side of the door. 

“Don’t come in, Tigris.” She couldn’t with the door locked anyway. “Mabel has been sick.”

He throws his gaze back to Mabel still tied to the bed.

“Let me in. I can help.” Tigris tries the locked door again. 

“She’s asked for privacy.” 

Mabel's brows furrow, but loosen as she forms a plan. While tied, her hands still had a little movement which she used to bang against the wooden headboard to alert her friend to her danger. 

Coriolanus rushes over and stills her hands firmly against the headboard. He was going to make her pay for that. 

Tigris had heard it and asked what the noise was. 

“Go away. Don’t worry. I’ll look after Mabel.”

Mabel instantly knew the underlying threat and went limp in his hold. 

He remains motionless until Tigris’s footsteps disappear back down the hall.

Only then does he move across the room to retrieve the cane used by her governess. 

It was a thin metal stick that a heavy piece of leather attached to the end that was used to smack down on hands. 

Mabel watched him as he brought it over. She pulled against her restraints but they were the best money could buy. 

He stood by her side, closest to the door so he could hear any more visitors.

Bringing the leather down to her clit, he began slapping the rod down unpleasantly.

He hit harder on her thighs, and more forcefully on her stomach, but only a rap on her breasts. He rotated randomly between the four areas of her cunt, thigh, stomach, and breasts, so she could never brace herself for the next hit.  

Her skin turned red from the assaults and her sobs hiccuped between her heavy breathing. 

There were sure to be black bruises the next day. A reminder for her. 

He taps the whip one-two-three-four times more harshly against her cunt than previously, before kneeling down and dropping it completely. 

He is at level with her perfect breast and he takes it into his mouth. His teeth grazed the sore and sensitive skin. He sucked like an infant while his hand groped her other breast between his fingers. He squeezed too hard for it to be of any pleasure for Mabel. 

He had grown painfully hard again. Now seeking his next relief he stands and unlocks one cuff with his fingerprint. 

Mabel instantly reaches for her gag but her wrist is caught and brought towards Coriolanus’s throbbing cock. She tries to pull her hand free but it is forced around his member and with his hand on top of hers, he begins to move it back and forth. 

She concedes and follows his movement with his hand now free and off hers, he uses it to redirect her face to what she is doing. 

He holds the back of her hair steady and keeps it in place as he feels his end nearing. 

His cum squirts out over her. Her face and chest now dripping with it. 

He was so caught up he failed to hear Tigris coming back down the hall. 

“Coryo, Mabel. Dinner is ready”. 

Coriolanus takes a deep breath before answering as evenly as he could, “We’ll be right there.” 

But he clips Mabel's hand back into the cuff. 

A whole afternoon of sex had relaxed Coriolanus. Everything that had bothered him before now seemed so silly. Was this all he needed all along to relieve the tension he always felt? He felt so good. But poor Mabel had taken his hurt. 

But she was bad and bad girls get punished. He had told her this. She needed to learn her place and this was a perfect example of it. 

Coriolanus wiped his cum from her chest down her stomach. She shuddered as he did it. She was sticky and wet and so, so beautiful. 

He looks down at his sticky hands and goes to the bathroom to wash them. Wiping a warm washcloth over himself to rid the mixture of cum he had picked up. He disregards the used washcloth and grabs another to wash the smell of sex off him. 

He runs it over his arms and shoulders as he walks to his closet to pick out an outfit for dinner. Deciding on his navy suit pants and white dress shirt, he finishes running the rag over himself and drops it to the floor.

Mabel was so still, if it wasn't for her shallow breathing, he would have thought he killed her. 

Now dressed, he goes back to her and stands on the end of the bed. He could hear the buzzing of the device but couldn’t see it. Mabel lay with her eyes closed, resting. 

He finds it and shoves it back inside of her. 

It causes her eyes to shoot back open. This time he was sure she was begging him to take it out. Her head shook ‘no’ when her words failed her. 

He smiles down at her, feeling like a god. 

“To make up for my previous inadequacies.” 

He leaves the room, making sure to relock it. 

Tigris, of course, asks him where Mabel was when he reached the dinner table. He continues with the ‘unwell’ lie and eats with a hunger he never knew, even during the war. 

—---

He skips dessert to attend to Mabel and warn off any more questions from Tigris. 

The room was quiet and dark. She lay on the bed motionless. The slight buzz sound could be heard the closer he got but Mabel's legs lay limp, unresponsive to it. 

He reaches down gently and pulls the device out for the final time. When he switches it off, Mabel considers the ordeal over. 

He unlocks the cuffs from her wrists and ankles and unties the rope from her knees. He half expects her to be filled with a burst of energy but all she could do is curl into a ball as she is released. Her eyes never open and her mouth never makes a sound. 

He switches on the lamp to see her more clearly. Her skin was still red and glistened with his cum. 

Her thighs were smeared with a small amount of blood that leaked from her abused hole. 

Perhaps he went too hard, but he didn’t feel sorry for it. 

She still doesn’t move as Coriolanus picks her up. No whimper or sound. She let him do what he wanted and that’s all he had ever asked of her. 

He places her in the large tub and runs hot water for her bath. Her head tilts to the side as she rests and Coriolanus brushes her hair from her face. 

He leaves her there to return to the bedroom, ringing down on the service phone for the changing of his sheets. 

The hot water begins to cover her body which is slumped down. He pulls her back up by her neck and keeps his hold in case she slips under. 

She sighs as the hot water surrounds  her. Her body ached with pain. If she had any water left in her she would have cried. 

Coriolanus leans against the bathtub watching as the water rises above her. It all seemed surreal to finally have done the debauched acts he had dreamed about doing since he first saw her. Just having sex was one thing, but that was a performance. A period of time when he could do anything and everything he wanted. A quickie in the shower or a quiet struggle at night did not satisfy Coriolanus the way this had. 

He had to get Tigris and Grandma’am out of the house, or he and Mabel could leave. He could no longer live by their rules. He wanted Mabel completely under his control like she was an hour ago, not safeguarded by virtuous Tigris. 

He had waited all through his tortuous months as a Peacekeeper, watching her as she was protected by men much larger than himself. Even with his position and weapons, he was no match if one of them decided to fight him off. But now he was. Now no one stood in his way, apart from Dr. Gaul. But once he won the presidency, he would deal with her then. 

He remembered the night of Mayfair’s murder. Watching Mabel as Lucy Gray sang his song. She had her hair twisted on top of her head, hot and sweaty from dancing. She was surrounded by her friends and hopeful men and sat drinking something that was bought for her. She talked through his song to her man on her left. She was missing the song. He wanted to do something. To force her to listen to the words of the song. 

He was desirable just like her. He was powerful, and resourceful. Saved Lucy Gray from the Hunger Games. If she would just listen, surely she would want him just as Lucy Gray had. But she laughed over his name. The anger he felt proved useful when it came time to kill Mayfair but buried itself into his body until it could be released upon his target. Tonight it left his body, and Coriolanus felt as if a weight had been released. 

He turns off the water, hearing a forceful knock at the door. The maids were here to change the sheets.

‘‘Sit up. Don’t drown.” He demands, letting go of Mabel's neck to answer the door. 

To his surprise, Tigris stood with the maids. Her tall frame towered over them. 

He was careful only to let the maids through the door. 

“She’s thrown up all over the bed. Leave her be, Tigris.”

She eyes the room behind him, trying to find Mabel. She offers to make up the spare bed for him to sleep in, but he knew it was to create distance between him and Mabel. 

It hit the final nail on his decision, Tigris and Grandma’am could no longer live with him. 

“I’ll stay with her tonight to make sure she is alright.” He shoves himself through his door and slams it in Tigris’s face. 

The maids had stripped the bed and he ordered one to fetch him two bottles of water before disappearing back into the bathroom. 

The door is shut offering privacy. 

Mabel still had her eyes closed and a crumpled frame. He resumes his spot on the floor next to her. 

“I would like an apology for your comment last night.” 

She doesn’t offer one. Coriolanus was glad. He wanted to keep at least some of her fighting spirit. 

But disobedience still had to be punished. 

He lowers his hand down into the water towards her sex. She jolts, squeezing her legs as tightly as her weak muscles would allow.

“Okay-okay. I am sorry.” Her voice was raspy and barely existent. 

He lets her finish her bath in peace. The water was nearly cold by the time he reached down and pulled the plug from under her. 

She had rarely moved as she soaked. He doesn’t wait for the water to disappear as he picks her up from the tub and moves her to sit on the counter by the sink. Her body was weak and she leaned against the glass as he dried her with a towel. 

He rolled up his wet sleeves, unsure of why he didn’t do it earlier. He had just wanted to get Mabel out of the bath and into bed but at even the slightest expense to himself? Maybe he was just tired also. 

He brought her forward so he could reach behind her for her toothbrush. She tries to take it after he applies the paste, but he is resistant to give it to her. Her hold was so weak, that it would surely topple to the floor.

He forces it between her lips to give her teeth a quick brush. The foam dribbles down her chin as she spit it out. Using the same towel, he wipes her clean before picking her up once more. 

He sits her on the ottoman and she falls back into the newly made bed. She was so tired. She couldn’t care where or how she slept. But Coriolanus did. 

He found his nicest pair of silk pajamas. They were deep brown and soft as butter. 

She was awake enough to see him bring them back over but they were entirely wrong for her. 

They reeked of him. They fit her too loosely. Reminded her too much of all she had lost. 

They caused a surge of energy. Enough to sit up and resist the clothes as Coriolanus dressed her like a doll. It was a struggle to get her hand through the first sleeve but as his movements became rougher, her fight fled. 

He wondered why it was so important that she was clean and comfortable. Why didn’t he leave her in her own mess, or let her sleep naked if she was going to fight him on it? What did it say about him? About how he felt about Mabel?

He assured himself it was the war. He had very little but always took very good care of the things he did have. This was the same. He was only ensuring that his things would last. 

Besides, when she was good, he would treat her nicely. He could, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t ruthless enough to run Panem. He was sure that even Dr. Gaul let her favorite pets sleep in the bed with her. 

As soon as he pulled her up to her pillow and laid her down into the fresh sheets, she fell asleep. It was the easiest bedtime since she was brought here. He pulls the blanket over her, tucking her in before he has his own shower. 

He returns to the dim light, straining to see if Mabel was awake. 

Mabel had not moved, even in her sleep.

He dresses and turns off the lamp. He wiggled next to Mabel, lowering his shoulder from its natural height so Mabel's cheek was pressed against it. It was silly and out of place after everything he had done, but it felt right to him. 

He wondered how she would wake. Would it be with a newfound obedience or did Coriolanus have many more nights like this on the cards? He secretly hoped for the latter. 

—-----------

When Coriolanus woke the next morning Mabel was still asleep. 

In his kindness, he decided to let her sleep longer. Last night was sure to have worn her out. 

He takes another shower, taking time to groom himself and apply his skin care. 

When he was finished, Mabel was still asleep. It was early, not even seven in the morning, so Coriolanus finished dressing without disturbing her. 

She looked so small in the massive bed. So delicate. If he didn’t know her, he would have never believed that such a small frame could carry such a big mouth. 

He closes the door quietly as he exits for breakfast.

Grandma’am and Tigris were already sitting at the table, picking food from the center. 

“Where’s Mabel?” Tigris asked.

“Asleep,” Coriolanus takes a pastry off the centerpiece and talks to the maid as he sits, “Put aside a plate for her.”

“You’re not going to wake her for breakfast?”

“She is still ill.” 

“Lazy,” Grandma’am spits out, “Districts are all lazy.” 

“Oh dear, maybe I should stay home today.” Tigris offers. 

“And watch her sleep?” Coriolanus mocks. Mabel knew to keep their relationship between the two of them but after last night it was best to err on the side of caution. 

“She’s sick, Coriolanus. She needs someone to take care of her.” 

She was Coriolanus's pet and Coriolanus's responsibility. 

“The Peacekeepers have a direct line to my office. If she needs something they can’t provide, I will take care of it.” 

Tigris pushes back her eggs, no longer hungry. 

“I still think-” she begins but Coriolanus’s temper flares. 

“You know what I think, Tigris? Perhaps it would be best for Mabel and I to find an apartment closer to the city.” 

“Move out from the Snow penthouse?” Grandma’am exclaims. 

“If Tigris will not stop interfering, what choice do we have, Grandma’am?” Coriolanus responds. 

“Interfere? Interfere with what exactly? Your violation of that poor girl? Is she sick, or have you done something to her? This is-this is…No!” Tigris gets up flustered.

“Sit down, Tigris,” Coriolanus demands, “Mabel is sick. It was bound to happen. She is District. She is not used to Capitol illnesses.’’ 

“Listen to your cousin, dear. Sit.” Grandma’am beckons. 

Grandma’am knew that if Coriolanus was to move out, his protection would go with him. Grandma’am had lived a hard and bitter life since the war, she was determined to die in peace. 

Tigris does sit back down, but remains in her frazzled state. 

Mabel was still asleep by the time everyone had left the apartment. Coriolanus left her a bottle of water and some painkillers next to her on her bedside, alongside a note letting her know there was food in the fridge for her. 

Work was more bearable with last night still running through his mind. He was in a good mood all day. It made him stand out amongst his gloomy coworkers. Nothing was too much trouble. He could take that extra task on. He could wait while his assistant readied documents due hours ago. 

Mabel was going to be of great use when he became President. He laughs quietly to himself as fleshes out his new game ideas on paper. 

“President Snow, how do you manage the pressure of it all?”

“The satisfaction of knowing I am serving my country keeps me preserving through difficult times.”

Meanwhile, Mabel would be back at the presidential estate tied to his bed, waiting for him. 

A small giggle escapes into the silent room and floats through the air. Coriolanus sits up straighter, fixing his face into a scowl as people look for the source of the laughter. 

Did Dr. Gaul laugh?  Did Dr Gaul ever kiss and pet her animals? What would she think of him if she could see him giddy as a schoolboy?

He used to pride himself on his self-control but Mabel had deteriorated it. 

She was a source of pleasure, where he had only known pain. The pain kept him sharp. 

He was doing so well. Too well to be thrown off balance by her. 

He reshuffles his pages to a blank piece. With Mabel on his mind, his proposal was weak. 

To impress Dr Gaul, he needed to show her that he was just as ruthless in his pleasure, as he was in his pain. 

—---------

He got home an hour after he was supposed to. No one was surprised when he was late. Not with the games just around the corner. 

His tired eyes were looking forward to seeing Mabel, but as he entered the apartment only Grandma’am, and Tigris greeted him. 

He kisses Grandma’am hello as she croons about his long day. Tigris sat in the living room matching patterns, clearly still angry. 

“Where’s Mabel?” he asks. He knew she was either in the kitchen or bedroom, but it seemed odd that she would leave her friend. They were normally joined at the hip as soon as Tigris came home from work. 

Tigris’s eyes shoot up at him. Before Mabel, Tigris had never looked at him with such hatred.

“She’s in bed. She hasn’t moved all day. I sat with her for an hour, she didn’t say a word.” 

Coriolanus makes his way to the bedroom to see it is completely dark. She didn’t even move to turn on a lamp. 

His sounders tensed with the thought that he had damaged his new toy. He had only wanted to control the spark, not extinguish it. 

He knew she could hear him as he approached her but she gave him no attention. 

He hoped to at least have her yell at him. Demand he get out, but everything was silent. 

Sitting on the bed next to her, he places a hand on her shoulder and speaks softly. 

“Mabel get up.”

She ignores him which angers him greatly. 

He sees she has taken her painkillers and drank her water. She had no reason to act this bratty. 

“What you did yesterday was…” She pauses to take a breath. 

Coriolanus’s mind races with answers: Exhilarating, memorable, long overdue. 

“Cruel.” She finished. From her perspective, maybe.

“You know, I’ve spent all day trying to remember you back in 12. I can only remember that night at the Hobb. Your eyes. So blue.” Her green eyes look up at his, “They gave you away.”

He could remember every occasion that Mabel came into view. But he watched from the shadows, and she danced in the light. 

“Mabel, I have given you no delusions as to why you are here. I’ve been very honest about your situation.” 

“Did you kill Mayfair?”

“Yes,” he admits. He felt his secret was safe with her. 

“Lucy Gray?” 

“Yes.” 

She doesn’t look afraid. Only defiant. It relieved Coriolanus to no end. He hadn’t broken his favorite toy. She was regaining her strength for battle. 

She sits up causing Coriolanus to lean slightly back to avoid a collision.

“Your eyes,” she states, “There’s something so dark behind them, that’s why I remembered them. I thought ‘run Lucy Gray!’ when I saw them.”

“She tried.” 

“I won’t run.”

“You won’t get the chance.” Coriolanus rises from the bed but keeps his eyes trained on Mabel. 

“I won’t run,” she repeats, “I’ll kill you.” 

He took her jaw roughly into his hands, turning it left and right as he spoke. 

“There’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours, is there?”

“There’s only one.” 

Coriolanus smiles down at her, despite her threat. She was so beautiful with her long dark eyelashes and her long dark hair that twisted past her shoulders and lay splayed out around her.

“I watched you for months as a Peacekeeper. Imagining all the things I would do if I could.'' He tucks her hair back behind her ear as he continues speaking, “Now here you are. Right under my fingertips. Mine. Free to do as I wish with.” 

He pushes her head back as he releases his hold of her jaw to stand.

“You thought I was cruel last night? Imagine what I am capable of when I am truly motivated.”

 He pulls down his sleeves that had rode up from his movements. It was important to look put together at all times. 

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long, Mabel . I will have you exactly how I want.”

“For now,” she concedes.

He squints his eyes at her. The things he would do if Tigris wasn't already waiting. 

“You need to come out and show Tigris that you are fine.” 

He could tell that she was in pain from her tense and slow movements but her face was brave.

Still dressed in his brown nightwear, she walks tall to the door, never looking behind her. 

—--------------

Coriolanus arrives home well after dinner due to Dr. Gaul arriving back in the Capitol. Now that the screening locations were picked, she didn’t want her efforts to be wasted. They all had to think of ways to prolong the screening. 

She was happy with nothing unless it added to the misery of districts. Coriolanus watched as she pushed and hinted at what she truly wanted. She was not interested in sharing ideas, she only wanted the participation of the group to distribute the blame. They were all in this together.

 All monsters of the Capitol. All a fine example of the human condition: hidden by fine clothing, and etiquette but at the core animals that believed in nothing but survival of the fittest. 

Coriolanus finally guessed at what she was getting at, and they could all go home, nearly three hours after the official day had ended. 

Coriolanus was eager to get home and relieve some of the stress that he felt. Gamemaking was not for the faint of heart. 

They had waited to have dinner with him, much to Coriolanus’s annoyance. Grandma’am was adamant that it was disrespectful to eat without the man who put the food on the table. 

It fanned Coriolanus's ego so he sat alongside Mabel and ate his dinner in silence. 

All he wanted to do was retire to his room with Mabel and read. He skipped dessert to do so, much to Mabel's disappointment. 

He did enjoy Mabel's company. Even just her presence in the room helped to settle him. Was she a symbol of his power? A silent promise to the man he is to become? He had no idea why she had this effect on him, only that she did. 

After a whole day of tense conversation with Dr Gaul, he could finally relax and read his book. 

He forced Mabel to do her reading homework as well, so she didn’t annoy him. 

Her book was for Capitol children and yet it still was above her level. She sat on the bed trying to read it while Coriolanus stretched out on his desk, reading for pleasure. 

She grew frustrated, throwing her book onto the floor. Coriolanus shuts his own book to pay attention to her. 

“Something the matter?”

“The cat sat on the mat, the mat sat on the cat. Who cares? Not me.” 

Her hair was pinned up by something but it was mostly coming apart. Ringlets fall and frame her face, giving her an endearing disheveled look. 

With his book back on his desk, Coriolanus goes to entertain Mabel.

Mabel is pushed to the bed as Coriolanus crawls on top of her, his head aiming for her neck. She lays unenthusiastically beneath him.

“Is Tigris dumb?”

Coriolanus stopped kissing her neck to respond. 

“What?”

“I wouldn’t mind if she’s dumb,” Her eyes focused on a faraway spot in the corner, Coriolanus had trouble regaining her attention. 

“But she’s my friend,” Mabel continues, “And she acts like she doesn’t know what you are doing. If she ain’t dumb, then she ain’t loyal. And if she ain’t loyal, we ain’t friends.” 

‘‘Isn’t,’’ he goes back to his work on her neck, ‘‘Are not.” 

He rises once more to look at her,  “We don’t say ‘ain’t’.”

“Well, I say ‘ain’t’.” Mabel pushes back on his shoulders and he takes it as a sign that more forceful measures must be taken. 

“She told me, ya know. About your childhood. How she looked after you, how poor you were. She reckons that’s why you are the way you are.”

“Mabel, don’t make yourself familiar with me.” He grabs her arm harshly and pulls her from where she lay into a kneeling position on the floor. 

“‘He doesn’t mean it,’ she said. ‘He’s been through a lot’.”

Coriolanus undoes his pants, and Mabel remains kneeling on the floor. 

“So maybe she is just dumb.” Her words are fierce but her frame shrinks underneath him. Her hands stuck together on her lap, her spine slightly curled like she wanted to roll herself into a ball. 

Coriolanus grabs her jaw to straighten her, his other hand snaking into her hair. He stands up and positions himself correctly. She couldn’t be trusted to do it by herself, so he kept a strong hold on her jaw to ensure it didn’t close, and a painful grip on the back of her head to ensure that she didn’t move away. 

He begins to fuck her mouth at a frustrated pace. 

She chokes as he pushes himself all the way in. Slamming his hips back and forth into her. 

She reaches up to take hold of the back of his pant leg, trying to steady herself.

“You don’t look like a big, tough girl now. Do you still feel like one?” he taunts, feeling her nails dig into the fabric of his pants. 

“Getting awfully friendly with me. Are we friends, Mabel? Or are you my little slut?”

His hips buck harshly in time with his words, “My-beautiful-little-slut.” 

Before resuming their quick, and needy pace, he spat out “You know what your problem is, Mabel. You never know when to shut the fuck up.” 

Her fingers curl around the fabric of his pants.

“You’re so brave, Mabel. And what did it get you? A mouthful of cock. A belly full of cum. Was it worth it?”

He could feel her jaw move under his hand but his tight hold disallowed her speech. He was going to talk, she was going to listen. 

“You think I like being cruel?  I do.  But you know what I think? You like it too. You like being shown who's boss. Again-Ah- and again.” 

He slows his pace down, dragging his cock slowly along her tongue.

“Those District boys never quite did it for you. Did they? That's why you kept cycling through them. You were waiting for a man like me to put you in your place. On your knees.” 

Her eyes flamed at him but she could do nothing more. 

She gags when he pushes too far but he doesn’t stop. 

Drool spilt from the corner of her mouth, and her eyes watered but he felt no pity. 

“You’re not dumb, Mabel. Haven’t you realized that when you’re nice, I am nice? Or have you realized that when you’re mean, I am mean?’’.

He laughs at her, angry and powerless on the floor. She digs her nails into the back of his thighs. With four more uncontrolled thrusts, he spills into her mouth and throws her back like a dirty rag.

She’s left on the floor, eyes watering and gasping for air with cum dripping off her lips. 

He drags her by the arm to the corner of the room where he forces her back into her knees facing the wall. 

“You don’t want to read your book? Fine.” 

He balances it on top of her head. “Stay there while I finish mine.”

Mabel, still ever so defiant, turns as he walks away and throws the book at him. Hitting him with a thud against his back. 

“You sick fuck!” she calls out. She goes to get up but Coriolanus is too quick for her, grabbing a thin book from his stack and shoving it between her teeth. He pushes her shoulder back towards the wall, reaching blindly for the rod he knew was close at hand. 

Feeling the cool metal between his fingers he brings it four times against her back. The book drops as she shouts and Coriolanus’s hand replaces it until the fourth strike hits. 

He picks it up again. It was a thin book, only 100 pages in length about the legislative process of government. It was short in nature given the hierarchy of parliament. It could be summed up in a sentence: the president spoke and the rest rushed to make his sentence a reality. 

He tells her to bite down and she does against the spin of the book. With her there, he goes to the locked drawer at his desk where he hid his toys from the maid. He brings out the cuffs he brought and secures her hands behind her back to make her task harder. 

Rebalancing the book, he leaves her there to return to his book at his desk.

He kept the cane in his hand, bringing it down across her every time the book fell. She remained completely still even as her neck strained. It annoyed Coriolanus so he took another book from his collection and placed it upon her thin child's book to add weight. She dropped it more easily, but the sting of the cane had her soon learning how to evenly distribute the weight. 

He had three more heavy books stacked on top of her head by the time he was finished reading for the night. 

She blinked tears away but made no sound or change to her straight posture. 

He took his books back from her head and teeth, placing them in their rightful places on the shelf. 

She was smart not to move, and he rewarded her for it by crouching down next to her and wiping her tears away with his handkerchief. She doesn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on the white wall. 

He takes hold of her jaw again to raise her from the floor and leads her to the shower. 

—-----------------

Another long day at the office left Coriolanus wishing for Reaping Day. 

 The sooner it was all over, the better for his nerves. 

Normally, on the way home he would listen to the radio news but after his exhausting day, all he wanted was silence. He knew he would no longer get it at home. The car pulled up to the curb of his building but he couldn't force himself to get out. He watched the lights of the building and the people as they entered and exited. 

He sighed deeply when he saw Mabel's Governess coming from the building. They were supposed to be done hours ago. 

He rushes out of the car as she approaches. 

“Mrs. Fox. What has she done now?”

The older woman jumped at the sound of his voice but regained herself as she turned. 

“Oh nothing, Mr. Snow,” she looked surprised to say it, “I was just visiting a friend in the same building. Mabel finished all her work diligently. We were done within four hours, and I didn't raise the cane once.”

Coriolanus smiled. Was it over? Had he done it? Maybe he was ready to be President. If he had trusted his instincts on the first day Mabel would be eating out of his hand right now. He had done it. He had won. 

“Well, that's good news.” He walks the teacher to her car, feeling generous. 

“I know I could get through to her with a heavy hand. You really must let me use my teaching experience. 

Coriolanus felt too good to correct her so he just bids her goodnight and leaps up the steps into his apartment building. 

He greets people as he makes his way through the building, avoiding conversation where he could. He was glad when the neighbor left the shared space of the elevator, sending the old woman off with a nod. The silence was refreshing after his day of non-stop chatter. He liked that Mabel didn’t speak much, at least not to him. 

The Peacekeepers greeted him as the doors opened before taking his place in the elevator. He doesn’t greet them back, focused only on opening the door and retiring to bed. 

He looks around the room to Grandma’am who sits at the kitchen table reading a gossip magazine and Tigris who is helping Mabel sew a large dress. 

Mabel wore a big, bright smile as she walked over to him and took his coat. It wasn't an unwelcome change but one that put Coriolanus on edge.

“Coryo, how was your day?” Tigris called from her seat on the couch. 

“Fine,” he answers. With Mabel still within reach he places a quick kiss on her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise before her face scrunched into disgust. 

With his coat hung up, she leaves him by the door, going back to Tigris. The corners of her mouth twisted up into a smile. She bit down upon her lip, trying to stifle a giggle. 

He had an unsettled feeling as he walked from the living room to his bedroom. He expected glum Mabel, defeated Mabel but not gleeful Mabel. 

Opening the door he could see why. 

His books had been thrown to the floor, pages torn out and spines broken. He had nearly a whole wall full and she had taken every single one and torn it apart with her bare hands. Coriolanus had been a boy who had nothing, and even now as a man who had everything, watching his things get destroyed gave him a sick feeling. 

His bag drops by his feet and picks up the book closest to him. Chocolate was squished between the white pages. The book was borrowed from one of his professors. A first edition and highly expensive.  

He was going to kill Mabel. 

He dashes out of the room, and back to the living room where she was expecting him. 

She eyes him on the couch, eagerly. 

Alarm bells ring in his head. She wanted him to react but why? He was too angry to care. 

He had expected her to move so when his fist came down, it came down with more force than he would have normally used, which sent her off the couch and onto the floor. Despite how angry he was, he forced himself to uncurl his hand into an open palm. He straddles her, bringing his hand down across her face as many times as he could before Tigris could hinder his movements. 

“Coriolanus!” he could hear the fear in Tigris's voice and it clicked for him. Mabel had set him a trap and he had fallen straight into it. 

She wanted to expose him to his family. Make a fool out of him. 

He got off her, falling back on his legs, his eyes going to Grandma’am at the table. Her face froze with shock. 

This was too much for even Grandma’am who used to let him steal toys from other children in the playground. 

Mabel manages to get up, grabbing the fabric scissors off the table as she gains distance between them. 

“Touch me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” She threatens. She holds the scissors in a tight grip towards Coriolanus. Grandma’am cries out in panic but she is largely ignored. 

“Let's just calm down,” Tigris soothes. 

Coriolanus rises from his spot. He could feel his rage ripple through him. 

“Drop the fucking scissors. You won’t use it.” He demands. 

“What to bet?” she spat. The scrapping of the kitchen chair breaks their standoff. 

“I am calling the Peacekeepers” Grandma’am attempts to make a break to the kitchen but she is slow in her old age. 

“Don’t!” Coriolanus growls. He wished Tigris and Grandma’am would melt into the floor so he would deal with this. 

“What a game you played, Coriolanus. So smart, so charming. It must have been exhausting for you” she mocks. “Is that what I am for you? Something you can toy with after playing Capitol pin-up boy all day?”

“I care for you, Mabel.” He admits, his face turns slightly pink from the heat of his embarrassment. He felt foolish to admit such a thing in front of his family. 

She scoffs at him, turning to Tigris. 

“Do you see?” She asks, “Do you see who he is?”

All eyes are on Tigris, who stood in silence giving her answer away. 

He had to get her back under control before she could forever ruin his and Tigris's relationship. 

“You want to go home?” Coriolanus takes a cautious step forward, “I am willing to make a trade.” 

Mabel listens.

“I hear your sister is growing up to be quite pretty. She’s too young to be of any use to me for years, so I’ll take your mother in the meantime.” 

“Coriolanus.” Tigris' voice is hard and cold.

 It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. But he was a Snow. Snow’s are not threatened, they are the threat. Does this District girl think she can make a fool out of him? That she could use his family to stronghold him? 

“I’ll send your mother back once your sister hits the right age.” 

“I’ll kill you.” Mabel threatens but her tone is weak, and her lips quiver. Coriolanus knew he was on the right track.

 “Don’t you understand, Mabel? Your life ended when you were placed on that train. It belongs to me now. I took you as easily as I can take them.”

“Not if you’re dead.” She declared. 

“Kill me Mabel, and it would be as if you slit their throats yourself.” 

She knew it too. That's why she never took a lunge. 

“Drop the scissors,” Coriolanus contends, “And I’ll forget it happened.” 

“Do you see him, Tigris? He’s not the boy you raised, he’s the boy you lost. Do you see?”

Coriolanus wasn’t sure when Tigris had begun crying but she stood now with her hands clapped up to her face and big, fat tears running down her face. 

“Yes,” Tigris sobbed. 

Mabel threw the scissors away from herself and Coriolanus took her arm, leading her to the bedroom before she could cause any more damage to his relationship with his cousin. He locks the door, making sure to double-check it before he hurries back to do damage control. 

Grandma’am and Tigris hadn’t left the living room. He doesn’t think they have moved since his outburst. He was so good at only showing them his best side. He hid the Snow that lurked beneath him all those years at the Academy, even the day he told them he was leaving for Peacekeeper training. All those years of self-restraint blown over by a hot-tempered girl in an afternoon. 

“Tigris,” he begins, reaching out to her but she jerks back away from him. 

“No, Coriolanus. No. I can’t sit by and watch you torment that poor girl.”

She begins to shove her work into her suitcase, throwing the scissors hard into the bottom.  

He felt a switch flip in him. She was going against him? After all he had done for her? Brought their family from ruin all off his own back. Slaved over his grades. Went to school hungry so that she could have more to eat. He got punished for cheating in the hunger games so he could win the Plinth Prize and keep a roof over her head. And now, she was going to take a District's side over him?

“Then don’t watch.” 

Coriolanus turns towards his office, the words of peace Grandma’am spewed behind him got lost in the slammed door. 

He immediately contacted a colleague who owned a collection of high-end resorts and inquired about the best apartment that he had available. His next call was to his driver and then to the Peacekeepers telling them to come inside in the next five minutes. 

When he entered Tigris' room she was already there. She begins the lecture again but this time Coriolanus is unfazed as he grabs one of her many bags and starts to shove whatever his hand touches into it. This stops her. 

The startled sound she made was new to Coriolanus. He always tried to hide his dark side to avoid scaring her, just as she always hid her panic to avoid worrying him. Tonight Mabel brought the emotions to the surface. 

“What are you doing?” she asks meekly. 

“I told you, Tigris. Mind your business or get out.”

She doesn’t stop him as he packs her things. 

“You aren’t serious. This is my home!” 

Coriolanus makes no verbal response causing Tigris to sit on her bed to absorb the blow. 

She had to leave. To save their relationship. Coriolanus planned to do much worse things to Mabel. 

Mabel too, needed to know that his family were not playthings for her. He couldn’t be seen cowering in the shadows any longer. He was the leader of the Snow family, it was time he acted like it. 

He could hear Grandma’am. Her loud, high-pitched voice quivered as it exclaimed to the Peacekeepers the events of the night. Coriolanus raced to stop her.  

“Coriolanus!” she calls as he enters the room. 

He takes her into his arms and speaks softly to the woman, “Go back a bag, Grandma'am. I’ll send the rest after you.” 

Coriolanus held her a bit tighter as she turned pale. Would shifting her from the Snow penthouse kill her? She could have her rose garden anywhere. He will ensure it. The new apartment was closer to the city anyway. This would be better for them all. 

After a moment of silence, Grandma’am stood tall. Her face was blank from emotion as she shook her youngest grandchild from her. 

“You,” she points to a Peacekeeper, “Follow me.” 

Silence overtook the room again as the sound of heavy boots and light heels made their way together. 

“Coriolanus!”His name is yelled down the hallway. “No. No, I won’t go!” 

Tigris’s screaming interrupted Mabel's banging. The noise was too much for Coriolanus, whose temper flared once more. 

“The bag is in the end room.” he seethed to the remaining Peacekeeper who took off at his command. 

Mabel screamed Tigris’s name, thinking her friend was in danger. 

“Shut up!’’ Coriolanus screamed down the hall. 

“I won’t go. I won’t leave Mabel. You can’t do this!” It was hard to hear her over Mabel’s incessant banging. 

“Please, don’t do this, Coryo. This isn’t you.” 

Tigris stills at her own words. The war-torn boy was no longer there. She wasn’t sure if the child she raised was still in there. 

The same blue eyes that used to cry with her out of hunger now glared back at her. His father's eyes. Full of hate. 

The Peacekeeper returns with the bag and gently places a hand on Tigris’s arm to lead her to the door. She goes willingly, too dazed to resist. 

Grandma’am kisses him goodbye, shadowed by the young Peacekeeper holding an impressive amount of bags given the small time frame. 

He is left alone for the first time in the Snow Penthouse. 

Mabel continued pounding the door. She was screaming but her words were muffled and Coriolanus’s ears ringed with his own consequences. 

He had got everything he wanted but it has cost him everything he had. 

The shattering of something caught his attention. He sprints to his locked bedroom door, and bangs back against the door, bringing his face up to the wood so she could hear him. 

“You hear that, Mabel? It's the sound of your only friend leaving.” 

—-------

Reaping day was finally here, and Coriolanus felt the most nervous he had ever been. Even the day of the Plinth Prize, or the first day as a Peacekeeping grunt. This was much worse. This was a situation that he couldn’t crawl his way out from. It depended entirely on Mabel. 

She took all day to prepare to the Capitol’s standards. A team of beauty technicians came around and spent hours waxing, shaping, styling, and dying. 

The Reaping was at noon and the team had been working since eight getting Mabel ready. It was well worth the effort. Her natural features were enhanced, her curls fought into submission, and the treatment on her olive skin left it glowy and smooth.

 He caught her looking at herself on reflective surfaces.

 Her dress was a plain black halter-neck dress that reached her ankles. A large white, satin bow skewed over her hip, tying together in a large bow on the opposite side. It pinned her dress together so there was a large slit that allowed for the viewing of her fine legs. Even in heels, she only reached Coriolanus’ shoulder in height.

She certainly looked the part, but could she act it? Coriolanus could tell she was worried. Her fingers fiddled with her bow, and her attention was hard to keep.

It was a big day for her, and her family. Any trouble and they were to pay the price. 

Dr. Gaul was to arrive soon. The servants stood along the wall, waiting. Mabel sat on the couch while Coriolanus paced in front of her. 

“Remember, always refer to her as Dr. Gaul. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and no backchat. Mabel, no backchat.” 

To Coriolanus’s surprise, she gives him a nod instead of an eye roll.

As if summoned, the doorbell rang and a servant was quick to attend it. 

Her small frame haunted the doorway. No longer in her lab coat, Dr. Gaul wore a maroon pantsuit that widened her broad shoulders. 

“Dr. Gaul.” Coriolanus greets but is ignored as Dr. Gual makes her way to Mabel. 

Dr. Gaul looks Mabel up and down, seeming to approve by the end of the inspection. 

“A pretty bird,” she said to no one in particular. 

Mabel’s lips pressed together. 

“Dr. Gaul, would you like a drink?” Coriolanus tries to take her gaze off Mabel. They were a team today, and Coriolanus would try and protect Mabel as much as he could. 

His tactic worked, turning Dr. Gaul from the young girl to the servant with the tray. 

All too quickly, Dr. Gaul turns her attention back to Mabel, extending her gloved hand. 

“Dr. Volumnia Gaul.” 

Mabel reaches out and accepts the handshake. 

“Dr. Gaul, I have heard lots about you.”

Dr. Gaul's eyes quickly flicker to Coriolanus before resettling on Mabel. 

“Not as much as I have heard about you, I bet.”

The Panem national anthem is heard from the television. It was the perfect opportunity to usher the pair towards the lounge and away from the conversation. 

They stand as the anthem plays. Coriolanus could barely breathe as time was swallowed by the song. It was a minute and 16 seconds of free time and Coriolanus was grateful for every second. 

All too soon Lucy Flickerman appeared on the screen and the pair followed Dr. Gauls' lead to sit. 

Servants hovered over them offering food and drink but Dr. Gaul kept careful watch of Mabel who sat, hidden by Coriolanus. 

“I am surprised at your composure, Mabel. Today must be hard for you.” Dr. Gaul provoked. 

“Not since I turned 18.” Mabel leans closer to Dr. Gaul, and Coriolanus has to refrain from yanking her back. 

“I’s rather hopeful today. Adelaide Bennet owes me money and it’s her last chance to get picked.”

Dr. Gaul smiles back at her. 

“Well let’s remain hopeful then.” Dr. Gaul returns to the television as the presenter makes his introduction. 

Mabel leans back in her seat to watch the ceremony and Coriolanus takes the opportunity to lay an arm across her shoulders to stop her from leaning forward again. 

The tributes were picked and then called on stage to be asked questions. It was a terrible idea. Most just cried or just stood there. Coriolanus made a mental note to scrap it next year. 

Dr. Gaul who normally loved to watch the dismay of tributes, shuffled in her seat towards Mabel. 

Coriolanus motioned for the servants to serve more drinks. Trying to distract any further conversation between the two. 

“Are you enjoying the Capitol, Miss Mabel?”

“Yes. I love this apartment.” Mabel quipped. Coriolanus dug his fingertips into her shoulder. 

Dr Gaul grinned at her backchat. “Well, I suppose you haven’t seen much beyond the bedroom walls.” 

Coriolanus could feel Mabel flinch under him. She had hit a sore spot but Mabel put on a brave face. 

“Is there much more beyond that?” 

Mabel and Coriolanus shared the same philosophy of never letting anyone see your weakness. 

It impressed Dr. Gaul. Coriolanus watched her from the corner of his eye as Dr. Gaul revels in all that is Mabel. 

“Whoa,” Mabel exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to switch topics, “That’s a clear winner if I ever saw one.” 

The man on the screen was large. Coming from District 2 where they trained to be victors. 

“Hmm,” Dr. Gaul agreed. 

“The interviews were a bad idea,” Coriolanus comments, trying to hide Mabel from the attention, “Prescott only has bad ideas. Why do we let him contribute?”

“Because Prescott’s father is a large contributor to the Games. We all make sacrifices for the good of the Games.” Dr. Gaul returns. 

“We also need the presenters to act more lively. Make it interesting.” 

Coriolanus engaged Dr. Gaul with further adjustments to the Reaping as long as he could while Mabel sat silent and beautiful. 

Coriolanus got nervous the closer the Reaping got to District 12. Mabel was already cracking. 

When she saw her home, would she hit a breaking point? What if she saw her family in the crowd? Could she keep her composure? 

District 4’s interviews finished and the camera shifted to District 5. 

“Mr. Snow tells me you used to wash Peacekeeper uniforms.”

Dr. Gaul had no interest in the Games. The focal point of the evening turned to Mabel. She seemed unphased, drinking liberality. 

“I did.”

Mabel takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving the television. 

“I heard you had quite the reputation back in 12.” 

Coriolanus wanted to interject, to somehow change the conversation to himself but he knew it was the wrong move. Dr. Gaul would only push further if he tried to change directions. 

“Yes, I was quite the washer.” 

He was sure that was it. Mabel’s tongue would be in his hands by tomorrow.

To Coriolanus' surprise, Dr. Gaul began to laugh. A deep chuckle that turned her away from Mabel, and hunched her frame into itself. 

Her hand reached back out once she was done and patted Mabel’s knee. Mabel ignored it but her grip around her glass tightened. 

“You must come to see my laboratory one day, Mabel. Put my experiments to shame.”

Coriolanus felt a swirl of pride go through him. Dr. Gaul was jealous of his pet. 

“You’re asking the wrong person, Dr. Gaul,” Mabel says, ducking her knee from the woman’s hand. 

“Coriolanus,” Mabel directs, “What do you think?”

She had passed the ball back to him, unable to front the fire from Dr Gaul. He could kiss her for it. 

“Maybe, if you are well-behaved enough,” he replies. He takes a sip of his own drink, noticing it was untouched. He too, had to seem unbothered. 

It would never happen though. He would create as much distance as he could between Mabel and Dr. Gaul’s laboratory, He hated it himself. Mutated creatures put on display in glass cabinets. 

Sometimes when he was forced to go there the sound of screaming deafened him. Some were clearly animals, but others seemed too human to dismiss. 

Dr. Gaul began to laugh again, this time letting her company see the thin lines as they appeared on her face to accommodate her laughter. She looked odd smiling. Coriolanus preferred her when she was angry. 

“Oh!” Dr. Gaul crooned, “You’re good at games. I wish I knew that before I let this go on. Maybe you could have helped.”

Her attention was back on the television, and her usual dissatisfied expression was back on her face. 

A District 9 boy was called up on stage amongst the silence

. 

“Yes, this year is far too gloomy to inspire Capitol glory,” Mabel gibbed. 

“Glory?” Mabel piqued Dr.Gaul's interest again, “Is that what you think the Games are for? Capitol glory?” 

Her tone conveyed she thought it was the wrong answer. 

“I think glory does more for Capitol order than sending children to fight to the death ever will.”

“And what does it do?” Dr. Gaul pushes. 

“It reminds us of our place.” Mabel was happy to end the conversation there, and Coriolanus tried to assist her by ordering the avoxes to serve lunch. But Dr. Gaul kept pushing.

“Which is?”

“The losers,” Mabel conceded. Her words sent shivers down Coriolanus’ spine. 

“We lost the war, and we’ve been in limbo between death and the afterlife ever since. Our lives became yours when the war ended. The Capitol’s toys. When you glorify the Games, it reminds us of that, more than the actual Games itself.” 

“My! I want you on the team next year” Dr. Gaul declared, “It took Coriolanus the loss of his lovely locks and a summer as a Peacekeeper to even come close to your conclusion.”

Mabel turns to him, now coming to the realization that he was Dr. Gaul’s pet as much as she was his. 

Dr. Gaul quietens as she eats the delicate food, meticulously prepared.

District 11 was halfway through their interviews. Coriolanus wondered if it was too late to drop his sleeping powder into Mabel's drink.  He could convince Dr Gaul that she had too much to drink. It would embarrass him but surely less than what he knew was to come. 

It would only reflect poorly on his training skills, but Mabel could keep her tongue for only a little bit of Coriolanus’s pride. 

It was too late, District 12 spread across the screen, and both women were no longer interested in conversation. 

“Here’s hoping for Adelaide, Miss Mabel.”  Dr. Gaul raised her drink, and Mable nodded back. 

The presenter in 12 is sluggish as he reaches for a card in the cage. Mabel looked in the crowd for her family. 

“Vera Woodsmith.”

“Ah,” Dr. Gaul mocked, “Don’t worry, Mabel. There’s other ways to get Adelaide.”

“Far be it for me to mess with fate.”

“Is that what you call it? Dr. Gaul brings her glass to her lips, but her thin smile hinders her ability to drink. “Coriolanus?” she adds. 

She was not in the habit of calling him by his first name. It shot shivers down him. 

“I don’t believe in fate,” he mutters, “Only power.”

On-screen the presenter tries to interview Vera Woodsmith but she cannot be heard over her own tears. 

The Peacekeepers take her away when she wouldn't stop wailing and the man draws the name of District 12’s male tribute. 

Coriolanus hoped it would be a past lover of Mabel’s. One less person to hold the memory that Coriolanus had fought so hard to have. 

“James Irkle”. 

The camera follows the boy as he makes his way to the stage. Shoulders up and tense, hands clasped together. His shoes were falling apart as he walked. The sole of his boot as it stuck to the hard gravel could be faintly heard over the silent audience. 

He couldn’t have been one of Mabel's past lovers. The boy was too young, barely 12. But she gasped upon his name as it was drawn.

Mabel shoots up before Coriolanus can stop her. 

“Someone you know?” Asks Dr Gaul. 

“He’s my neighbor's child,” Mabel eyes watch as the child makes his way up the stage steps, “He’s just a kid. Surely someone will volunteer.” 

She watches expectantly but no one rises. 

The presenter continued, lowering the mic stand to the boy's height so he could answer questions. 

“You can stop this.” She turns back to Coriolanus who tried his best not to let his panic show. 

“What would you have me do, Mabel? The name has already been called.” 

“Change the game, isn’t that your job? Make a new rule that it’s between 15-22. You’ll get more viewers.” 

“I am only interested in one viewer right now.”

“Coriolanus, please. He is just a boy. A good boy.” 

“Not the first good boy to die.” Dr. Gaul pushes Mabel a step too far. 

“Shut up.” Mabel snapped. Everyone knew it was the wrong move, but in her anger, she failed to catch herself. 

Dr. Gaul rose from her seat, and Coriolanus followed, unsure of what the unpredictable women planned to do. 

Dr. Gaul raised her hands as if she was going to reach out and touch Mabel but her fingers curled inwards. 

“If I could just get my hands on you.” 

“I am afraid you’re at the back of a very long line.” Mabel quips. Coriolanus wanted to reach out and cover her mouth before she could do any more damage. 

“That line keeps you safe.” 

Mabel throws her hands out, laughing humorlessly as she spins.

“Look around and you tell me how safe it has kept me.” 

Dr. Gaul smiles once more, giving Mabel one final look over before turning back to her successor. 

“An hour, Mr. Snow. I would have your bird singing an entirely different tune.”

A wave of shame overtook Coriolanus. He had failed. He was so close only to have Mabel crack at the last second.

Dr. Gaul leaves Mabel, finding a new victim in Coriolanus. 

“It looks like you still have work to do. I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Snow.” 

She pats his sore shoulder as she passes him. A shoe follows her, narrowly missing her shoulder. 

Dr. Gaul looks back in shock. She had never been bitten by an animal before. 

“Child murderer!” Mabel works on undoing her other heel and manages to pull it back to launch it before Coriolanus can restrain her. 

Dr. Gaul watches as Coriolanus wrestles Mabel to the ground, keeping a firm grip on her wrists, pinning them to her chest as he keeps her tightly against his.

A full belly laugh erupts over the sound of Mabel’s screaming. Under Dr. Gaul's stare, he wished for nothing more than to turn to ash. It reminded him so much of his father’s stare. Or at least from what he could remember. It paralyzed him like it did when he was young. 

He still felt frozen as he watched Dr. Gaul head for the door. Even when the servant closed it behind her, it offered no closure for him. 

His rage, however, slowly returned. 

“Get out. All of you get out!” He demands. 

Mabel had stopped screaming and started crying. He doesn’t release her. His fingers froze around her wrists, his shoulders would not unstiffen nor his legs untangle from hers. 

He wasn’t sure if he was holding her for her own comfort or his own. All he knew was that he couldn’t let go. 

Mabel had done far worse than he could have anticipated. She had piqued Dr. Gaul’s interest. If Mabel merely angered her, the course of action would be apparent, and it left her as the property of Coriolanus at the end of the day. But Dr. Gaul’s interest had a possessive grip. How far would she take it? Would Mabel be left one of those creatures trapped in the laboratory? Could he protect her from it? 

For the first time, Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt for having taken Mabel in the first place. 

He had plucked a flower from its stem and now it lay in his hand, slowly dying. 

tag list;

@bruher

@hiatuswhore

@swimmjacket

@immyowndefender

@namelesslosers

@lovelymoonkiid

@queenofshinigamis

@acidaciruela

@briefwinnerpersonaturtle

@tian-monique

[wizard-attica]

Harry Potter Roleplay Discord Ad

Hogwarts | Prodigal Heirs

Fourteen years have passed since the Second Wizarding War. Harry Potter along with many brave witches and wizards fought to the end, leading the era of peace to the lands. Despite joyous of the memory of the horrors remained intact. As if it was done purposely. But time moved forward, pushing and bustling with life. The Golden Trio grew older and had kids of their own. It was a life of blissful peace.

At the start of January 2013, there were rumours. Whispers of a new dark wizard claiming to take the title of the Dark Lord, to finish the great work that previous could not do. It sparked starved and ravenous minds while heros of the past sought out answers. But none could be confirmed. It brought on a new start at Hogwarts. This time the children of the Golden Trio are taking their role in this part of history. Starting off in September of 2014 will be a school year worth waiting for.

So dearest readers. Remember to stay vigilant. Keep your eyes open. For a friend you have now can be the foe that hid beneath your feet.

— What does the server offer?

• OC and Canon Character are allowed in the server.

• We will host events during the time of the roleplay once we reach a certain progress of the storyline!

• We allow all levels of roleplayers such as those who are Free Form (One-Liners) to those who are Novella! We don't ever want to restrict people from simply having fun!

• We also have normal channels for movie night, playing video games, and normal voice channels in case anyone wants to just hang out. Along with that, we have fun channels for characters such as Instagram, Pets, Letters, Simps, and so much more!

• Despite us being a small server we still manage to make this server flexible and put together. We only hope that our server grows bigger and makes it feel like a home to everyone who eventually joins it.

• This server is 18 and up. Anyone under that cannot join the server.

[its-wabby-stuff]

Mikey Goes To Oz

<Time spent: 49 hours 17 minutes>

When Mikey takes some time away from a loud family squabble he accidentally ends up getting “flushed” down the sewers. This winds up sending him to the colorful land of Oz where he meets a good witch, a wicked witch, a brainless scarecrow, a heartless Tinman, a cowardess lion, and a powerful wizard, all disguised behind very familiar faces.

A canon adjacent spin off set before the season one finale but after they discover Splinter is Lou Jitsu

I wanted to fit each of the boys into their “you’ve had this all along” category. Leo isn’t brainless, in fact he’s pretty clever with a street smart, people reading ability on par with Donnie’s intelligence. Donnie isn’t heartless, he just has a tough time expressing his feelings. They are complex and unalgorithic but he can get just as excited or sad or angry as anyone, as much as he may deny it. Raph isn’t a coward, but being brave sometimes means admitting you’re scared and that you maybe don’t have all the answers. You dont have to be strong all the time and you don’t have to do it by yourself.

In the movie Dorothy’s journey home is also a representation of her running away. The important thing was to remember there were people who cared about her. Mikey is experiencing a similar phenomenon, wanting the escape the bad vibes in the lair. His “you’ve had it all along” is interesting because it is an object, since the Ruby kneepads could’ve taken him home the whole time. And sometimes getting home means going on a journey only to realize you never left.

I put April as Glinda because Glinda appears as a defender of the weak, and I see April in a similar light. Always willing to help and beat someone up if it is so required. Splinter as The Wizard of Oz represents Splinters own willingness to hide behind different personas, his running from the past and the pulling back of the curtain for Mikey in timeline. The Wizard grows through the movie, albeit quickly, and ends up leaving Oz to go home leaving his legacy with the scarecrow, the Tinman, and the lion. In this case the passing of the baton to his sons.

Meanwhile Draxum as the wicked witch felt much more how Mikey sees Draxum at this time in the show, mostly just an antagonistic force who wants something from them. Fun fact: I imagine throughout this dream, Draxum is uninterested in being the wicked witch but is pressed into it via plot. Hence his disinterest in being “melted.”

Additional characters not pictured: Big Mama as the Wicked Witch of the East (those were her Ruby kneepads!!) and Todd as the Mayor of Munchkin Land. If you can think of more, feel free to leave them in the comments or tags.

[egoistrin]

the perfect pair

GENSHIN CHARACTERS AND HOW YOU MET THEM!

[🐰] fluff. gender neutral reader. bulleted form headcanons. wanderer is kind of annoying here. (smh). includes swearing and not proofread. likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Al Haitham

You met Al Haitham, an Akademiya scholar at the Grand Bazaar while assisting Nilou through her performance. While you are not a dancer, you enjoy helping people in the Zubayr Theater as you grew up in a family that’s into art and performing.

Scholars from the Akademiya gave you the stereotype that all of them hated seeing individuals who pursued art rather than knowledge. Al Haitham was not free from this. he’s the one whom you are wary of. You often see him holding a book, scolding poor scholars on the verge of crying, and alone. Plus, he’s been visiting the bazaar ever since the higher-ups warned Nilou about closing the theater. The problem was resolved, of course, with the help of Nilou’s and traveler’s doing.  

You glared at Al Haitham. Worried that he’ll approach you and say that what you’re doing is not worth it or you’re just wasting your time. Surprisingly, he just walked outside the bazaar.

Little did you know, he always walks around the bazaar as he’s interested in you. He always sees you accompanying Nilou and helping around the theater he can’t help but observe you. He knew your family but he’s not well acquainted with them, hence, why he wants to get to know you.

Of course, he does not want to admit that he’s also enamored by your smile that’s always plastered on your face every time he sees you at the bazaar. Perhaps he’ll approach you tomorrow.

Xiao

He saw you on the way back to the Wangshu Inn crying. He was confused and troubled as he didn’t know what to do. He only knows how to kill and protect, not to comfort. So he decided to approach you and ask what was wrong gently.

You lifted your head and quickly wiped your tears. You gently backed away as there was a stranger in front of you. Your first thought was “Stranger danger” and Xiao was shocked by your actions. He backed away and gave you some space.

Great. Now this person thinks I’m an enemy. Xiao thought. Hopefully, you can at least recognize him as an adepti so he can escape the embarrassment he feels right now. He figured that you had gained your senses as you quickly stood up and apologized for mistaking him for a weirdo. Xiao accepted it and was about to walk away but you stopped him.

“Can you forget what you saw earlier? I’m sorry you had to see that and I promise not to be dramatic in public again. I’ll even treat you for a week! So please, just forget it.” Now, to say that Xiao was shocked was an understatement. A mortal treating him… for a week even is a brave move. He has karmic debt that can affect people and you’re not even bothered by it. He turned down the favor yet you’re still persistent and in the end…. You got what you want. You managed to invite an adepti to dinner for a week.

And on the last day, he found out that you don’t even know that he’s an adepti. You only thought that he was a vision bearer, which explains his odd look. Now, he has to deal with you who’s bowing on the floor and apologizing profusely for not recognizing and paying respect to an adepti.

Scaramouche/Wanderer

You bumped into him in the woods in Sumeru. He was running away from Nahida who was nagging him to celebrate his birthday and visit the traveler at least. You bumped into him and landed on your butt, looked up, and a strange man was in front of you.

You immediately apologized and he just shrugged it off. Thinking you’re already forgiven, you walked away but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. You’re confused and he answered you with a cold “Make it up to me” statement. “Huh?” “Don’t huh me, mortal.”

Oh god. You already hate his guts. “Listen, I don’t have time for that. I still have to go home and celebrate my birthday with my cat who’s alone right now.” Hah. You idiots have the same birthday. “Then I’ll go with you.” You looked at him like he had just said something crazy. I mean yes, he did but why? “I’m not joking. I’ll go with you and celebrate our birthday together with your cat.”

If you’re confused before this take the cake. “Well, mister, Happy birthday. But I don’t want a stranger to be invited into my home and spend time with me and my cat. I gotta go.” you pleaded, putting your best puppy eyes so he’ll let you go. He cringed at your actions and smirked “If you don’t let me then I’ll burn the documents in your hands right now.”  What the fuck? This guy’s insane!

Panicking, you finally invited him to your house. To your surprise, he was obedient and quiet the whole time you walked to your house. He was also gentle to your cat, he’s practically babying it. You also gave him a separate cake that he could blow the candle for his wishes. For the rest of the night, the three of you spent the day filled with snarky comments, meows from your cat, and snores.

Your cat slept on his lap while he was sitting and his head was thrown back at your couch, and you were on the other side of the couch lying down.

Zhongli

Your trip to Liyue has been great so far. The people are welcoming and accommodating to tourists like you. However, you still feel like you are missing something to check while you're in the nation.

You've already tried Chef Xiangling's dishes, take pictures of the vast mountains of Liyue, and visited the adept's temples. Yet, it's still incomplete…. What is it?

It's the last day of your trip in Liyue so you wanted to make the most out of it yet you've already hit rock bottom on what else to do. You decided to pray to the Lord of Geo to guide you and as if He heard your prayer, a gentleman gently approached you and you were starstruck.

"I suppose you're a tourist?" the gentleman asked. You gulped, wide-eyed, still frozen as someone handsome like him approached you. "Uhm… Yeah! Yeah, I am…. It's my last day but I don't know what else to do. I get it that you're a local?" you blabbered, blushing at your sudden rise of voice.

He smiled, "Yeah, I am. If you do not mind, would you be willing to try out Liyue’s cuisine and tea with me?”

Wow… what an offer! But why? Isn’t he a local? Why is he still inviting me? “Well, sure. If it’s not too much of a bother then why not? Lead the way, mister?” “Zhongli, please don’t call me mister, just Zhongli is fine,” he replied.

You spent your day with Zhongli visiting various restaurants and trying on different foods on the menu. You realize that he’s not fond of seafood and has a lot of knowledge regarding Liyue’s history and art. Zhongli has a sophisticated taste when it comes to Liyue’s dishes and art.

The night is coming to an end and the ship you will be boarding will arrive soon. Your last day has been fun yet there’s a twinge of sadness and disappointment in your chest that you cannot describe. Maybe because you managed to enjoy this day with Zhongli but also this is the last day of spending time with him. You wonder if you’ll ever go back to Liyue and meet Zhongli again.

“I appreciate your company, Zhongli.” He looked at you and smiled, “I enjoyed this trip with you too. I hope that you will come back to Liyue again.” You can’t help but look at him, mesmerized by his golden eyes that resemble the shiny Cor Lapis Zhongli showed you earlier. You feel your face warming up and can’t help to awkwardly cough to mask your face. “Well, I will be coming back… Although, I don’t know when since I will be busy with my job after this trip. But I promise I’ll be back!” you beamed. “That’s a relief.” “Oh? Why is that? Is Mr. Zhongli a clingy person perhaps? Will you miss me?” you teased him hoping that he'd give you a reaction other than a gentle smile and it worked. Zhongli’s face was so flushed that he covered it with his gloved hand while looking away from you. “I suppose you are right. I will miss you.”

Oh. Oh. Fuck. You didn’t expect that. “Well... Uhm… Ah… I should be going now! My ship could be here anytime! I’ll go now, Mr. Zhong—I mean Zhongli!” you panicked, not knowing where to look and what to say. I mean how can you not? A handsome gentleman admitting that he’ll miss you? Not to mention, you have only met today! On your last day! “Alright, have a safe trip. I wish you well and good luck with your work. I will miss you.” Fuck. Once again, Zhongli knows what words to say to fluster you further. I suppose it’s safe to say that you’ll come back to Liyue much earlier than you anticipated.

I got carried with Zhongli tbh.... Can you believe that I started writing this back in January and only managed to finish it this November. Almost a year haha.... reblogs are really appreciated as the tumblr system revolves around it!

[tremsing82]

ACOTAR Future Families Headcanons

Ok I have few fun family headcanons for the acotar ships. (Disclaimer: I am not an fanfic author/writer so none of this will ever show up in a fanfic, I just like to create characters for headcanons, if anyone wants to use any of this for a story your more than welcome to do so just tag me so I can read it please 🙏😊😊😊🙏)

Feysand: they obviously have Nyx. I think they will definitely have 1 more and it will be a little girl. I also expect her name to be Stella (Star). (Personally I was expecting Nyx to be named Noctis and that their daughter would get the name Nyx since Nyx is actually the name of the Goddess of Night.)

Nessian: I am 100% committed to Cassian being a girl dad. My headcanon is that they have 4 girls. All with beautiful untouched wings. All who have embraced their Illyrian Valkyrie warrior training but also love fashion and formal events. I have this funny snippet that lives rent free in my head of Cassian proudly yelling at someone saying “My 10yr old daughter can kick your ass while wearing a tutu.” I think all their names will begin with the letter C: Cassandra(Cassie) Nesta surprised him with this name, Corine(Corie), Calista(Callie), Camille (Camie).

I do have this idea that Nesta and Cassian start their family journey off with them adopted an orphan/abandoned Illyrian baby girl that Cassian found and brought home to get her medical help and to just nurse back to health. Nesta sees him holding this crying baby trying to get her to eat from the bottle the healer gave him and she just melts for them both. And this baby is Cassandra.

Gwynriel: they had twins, boy girl twins. The girl was named after Gwyn Sister Catrin. And the boy’s name is Haden with his nickname being Hades (this is a guilty pleasure name for me, I have wanted to name a character this for years it even was a name on my boy baby name list). If though they want to stick closer to his name being similar to his sisters though, the boy version of Catrin is Cayson/Kasen/Cason (let me also add Kasen is my sons name so I am slightly bias in the boys names for this one).

Elucien: my favorite ship by the way. And yet I headcanon that they have 1 child, a son. I know crazy 😜. I have 2 reason for this 1) I like to think they like to keep their life simple. 2) I think they struggled to get pregnant. Their son is one of the youngest of the cousins, and he is highly cherished by his parents and family.

Their son’s name is Renard. Renard is French for Fox and Reinhard is German for Brave/Strong Council, which I think perfectly represents a child of Lucien and Elain. His nickname is Ren, I love it so much 🥰🥰🥰

He comes off as shy and definitely likes to clutch at his mother skirts when they first arrive at places. He is the quietest of ALL the cousins, lol (including Eris’ kids). But he’s observant and inquisitive and can be intrigued/curious. He likes to bake and garden with his mother, plays chess and work with his spell cleaving magic with his father and grandfather, go on hikes with his father and uncle where he learns about tracking and living off the land, he loves to read books, he loves to paint and draw, and he likes the piano. He literally is the little chameleon of the family, he see what interests other people and absorbs all their knowledge and collects it to try for himself. He’s been a little cautious around Uncle Cassian because Uncle Cassian was super excited to have another Nephew and tried to treat him like Nyx and Hades and that’s just not the kind of kid Ren is. Ren is closest to Nesta and Cassian’s youngest daughter Camille though. Camie is usually the bull in a China shop but with Ren she will slow down and let him show her what he is reading or drawing or teach her a new piece on the piano.

Eris: Eris is my other girl dad. He has 5 girls, which are nicknamed the Autumn Vixens when they get older. Him and Cassian are in a silent competition about who is the better girl dad, Eris beat Cassian recently by being able to do better girls hair styles. I am leaning towards their names being French inspired: Reine, Sophie & Sylvie (twins), Colette, and Elise.

Vassian: Vassa is an all boys mom. She has 6 boys and on her 7th pregnancy it’s finally girl.

[thebluehair23]

Imagine :Gil-galad’s wife bravely rescues him, leading to a heartfelt confrontation and reconciliation.

Title: Bound by Love and Bravery

When Gil-galad set out for battle, you felt the familiar knot of fear tightening in your heart. Every part of you urged him to stay, to be cautious, but he was the High King and duty called. Days passed, and reports came back to Lindon—a battle gone wrong, Gil-galad captured, trapped in the heart of enemy lines. Though you pleaded with the council to send a rescue party, they refused, their fear for their own lives outweighing their loyalty.

But you couldn’t accept it. You couldn’t bear the thought of him trapped, suffering, while you stood by, powerless. Even more so now, as you carried his child within you—a secret you had only just discovered. The thought of your child growing up without a father was too much to bear. And so, you made up your mind. Taking only what you needed, you left under cover of night, riding alone through perilous lands, determined to bring him back.

Days later, you reached the enemy camp under the cover of darkness, finding Gil-galad bound and held in a wooden cell, guarded by orcs gathered around their campfire. Your hands trembled, but with careful planning, you managed to set up a trap—stones rigged to fall, fire set to engulf the camp in chaos. When the flames rose, the orcs scattered, caught off guard by the sudden assault. Seizing the moment, you dashed toward Gil-galad’s cell, breaking the locks and pulling him free.

“Are you mad?” he hissed, his face twisted with fury as he took in your appearance. “What were you thinking, risking your life—and the life of our child?”

“We’ll argue later,” you said, tugging him toward the trees as the flames spread behind you.

Once mounted on his horse, you rode through the night, pressing on until you were far from danger. Finally, exhausted and wary, you found refuge in a small, hidden cabin owned by a mysterious figure—an old shifter, who could transform into a wolf but whose heart was kind.

The wolf-man greeted you both with warmth, setting out a simple meal: bread, eggs, and fresh milk. You were ravenous, and the food disappeared almost as soon as it was set in front of you. Gil-galad watched you in silence, his eyes still clouded with anger and worry as you ate, hardly pausing for breath.

Once you finished, he finally spoke, his tone sharp with frustration. “You had no right to risk yourself. You put our child in danger. What would I have done if I had lost you both?”

You met his gaze, unyielding. “And what would I do without you? How could I go on, raising our child alone, knowing I could have saved you?”

He clenched his fists, his anger softening slightly, though he remained tense. “That isn’t a risk I would ever want you to take.”

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try,” you replied, your voice shaking with raw emotion. “You are my heart, Gil-galad. I can’t imagine a life without you. I would face any danger if it meant bringing you home.”

The room fell into silence, and your eyes began to sting as you held back tears. Unable to bear the tension, you turned to the wolf-man, asking where you could sleep for the night, hoping to find a place alone to calm your heart. He led you to a single room with one bed, his gaze full of quiet understanding.

Your heart sank. You couldn’t avoid Gil-galad tonight, but as you lay on one side of the bed, facing away, you kept your distance. Moments later, you felt the bed dip as he lay beside you, both of you engulfed in silence and unspoken feelings.

Then, his arm slid around your waist, drawing you gently back toward him. His touch was warm, comforting despite his earlier anger. Slowly, you turned to face him, finding his gaze softer, more vulnerable.

He brushed a hand over your belly, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and sorrow. “It isn’t only you I nearly lost today… I nearly lost him, too.”

You managed a small smile, brushing your fingers over his hand. “Him?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “For all we know, it could be a daughter.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his chest. “Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice softening. “But I know that you both wanted me safe. No matter how angry I am, I can’t deny… I’m grateful you came for me.”

You let out a small laugh, the tension between you melting as you relaxed against him. “I’m not the only one, you know. He wanted his father back, too,” you teased, though you knew it was your love for him that had driven you to such lengths.

Gil-galad’s eyes sparkled with affection as he gently stroked your hair. “Perhaps,” he replied, amusement dancing in his gaze. “But if I know him at all, he’s inherited his courage from you.”

In that quiet moment, you felt the strain of the journey fade away, replaced by a deep and lasting warmth. You lay together in the flickering candlelight, your love strengthened by the trials you had faced, knowing that you would face any danger for one another. And for now, in each other’s arms, you were home.

[jo-harrington]

Luminous Beings - Episode 1: A Long Time Ago...

Art by @monologichno || Beta Read by @undead-supernova Part of the @eddiemunsonbigbang

Summary: Eddie Moonsun learned early that if he wanted to be saved, he was going to have to do it himself. The galaxy, the force, fate...they promised nothing but the dirt beneath his feet, and he only ever dreamed of the sky. But they also promised chaos, and chaos is exactly what he got one day, sitting in a cantina on Nar Shaddaa. Chaos in the form of a Star Tours flight attendant who would change his life forever.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Thalia Trieste)

Warnings/Themes: Star Wars AU, Action, Meet Cute, Fluff, Romance, Mention of Alcohol and Substance Use, Minor Canon Inaccuracies/Adaptation, Politics, Miscommunication

Note: This idea has been a long time coming, mixing two of the fandoms that I adore so much. Star Wars has been a part of my life since I was really young, it was the reason I studied costume design. It only felt right to drop my current Borbo LOML into it. Thanks to everyone who heard me ramble on about the vestiges of this idea for the past, idk, 2+ years, thanks to the Eddie Munson Big Bang for giving me the opportunity and motivation to write it, thanks to @undead-supernova for not only being my beta but for being someone who is barebones in SW knowledge so I can really test how accessible this story is, and thanks to my excellent Big Bang Partner @monologichno for being absolutely on board with my madness and my Original Character.

Although this story has a romantic pairing listed, this is truly Eddie's story and his chance to live the epic adventure he always dreamed.

Luminous Beings Masterlist - Jo-Harrington's Masterlist

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Coruscant, 14BBY

This was everything he ever wanted.

And some things he only ever let himself dream of.

Eddie stared upwards at the towering skyscrapers. He let the lights twinkle in his eyes, absorbed all the sounds and smells, and tried not to smile.

This was it.

The moment it all changed.

He was just a small town boy and suddenly he was stepping into a brave new world, a big city with his friends, away from everything he'd ever known.

Away from his only family, his uncle Wane.

It was terrifying but he knew his uncle was proud of him.

Proud that he was gonna make something of himself, more than his father did or, truly, anyone else in the family. Proud that he waited and finished school first. Proud that he let his friends finish school too before springing them from their sad little destinies of putzing about their close-minded community.

Well, maybe not proud of that last one exactly. More relieved that Eddie wouldn't be out in the universe alone and that all of the boys would have each other.

Eddie was a little relieved about that too, to be honest. Jeff, G'areth, and Dayv had been his backbone for years. While other friends moved on, got themselves out and didn't look back, they made sure he knew that they were in it together.

Still, he would miss Wane. Hell, they'd miss each other, more than either of them could ever admit aloud. It’d been years since they had anyone more than each other to rely on.

Wane knew Eddie had a bigger destiny on the horizon and getting out was the first step and the hardest one.

But here he was.

Backpack slung over his shoulder, guitar safely packed away for the big move, lucky vest thrown over comfortable travel clothes.

Out of the pit he called home for the past 20 years. Free to be himself. Finally.

There was a crash behind him and he turned on his heel, idealistic daydreams forgotten, to find his friends standing over a fallen pile of boxes.

“Careful with those!” Eddie hollered and winced as another box crashed onto the durasteel floor of the landing platform.

"Kriff, I'm pretty sure it was part of my drum kit," G'areth ran a hand through his hair and heaved a long sigh.

"We're never gonna pass the cargo inspection if we don't have our shit together," Dayv panicked.

"Here we go," Jeff rolled his eyes as Dayv started heaving and whining about Empire this and trooper that. Eddie waved a dismissive hand and motioned for his friend to start restacking their belongings.

"Listen, hey, listen," Eddie grabbed Dayv by the shoulders to look him in the eye. "Breathe. When the inspector gets here, everything's gonna be ok. We're just a couple of guys coming to Coruscant to play a few gigs at some cantinas, trying our luck to make it big. And if it works out, maybe we'll stay. How many others have tried that before? Huh?"

"Tried and failed."

"You get it," he squeezed Dayv's shoulders and shot him a calm smile. "Bunch of dumb scrapper kids? We're not gonna make it far. In a month, we'll either be slinging Bantha Hash at a diner or fixing shuttle thrusters in some shop in CoCo town."

"I think I'm just nervous, Ed."

"It's alright. I'm nervous too. But what's the worst that could happen? We're not hauling anything illegal." Not yet.

"What if they just send us back?"

"Then at least we made it this far." He clapped a hand on his back.

If Eddie was a betting man, he'd put all of his money that they'd make it even further.

And he'd win.

The inspection went without a hitch, although all three of Eddie's friends nearly shit themselves at the sight of two stormtroopers in the speeder along with the imperial inspection officer. Which meant he did most of the talking.

He did pretty well, if he said so himself. Remained calm, had all of his paperwork in order, made sure to mention his father's old sabacc buddy—Lip Tonrick, a name that he always mixed up—as a contact.

He even got the inspection officer to laugh at a joke about their ship, a clunky old retrofitted defender-class corvette that he affectionately called the Dragonborn, thanks to its scaly red exterior.

Before they knew it, the inspector was off to the next landing platform, and they were in the clear.

Eddie turned to his friends with his arms out triumphantly.

"We're gonna do big things, boys!" he cheered amidst their whooping and hollering. "We're gonna make a name for ourselves."

He was gonna make a name for himself.

Eddie Moonsun. The best smuggler in the galaxy.

Nar Shaddaa, 10BBY

The crew of the Dragonborn walked into the Surly Sarlacc like they did about this time every few months: absolutely exhausted.

But that didn't stop the handful of regulars who recognized them to cheer at their arrival.

They parted ways to talk to familiar faces and get drinks at the bar, then returned to their usual table until it was time for their performance.

It wasn't the nicest cantina on Nar Shaddaa—located in the Red Light sector of the Under City, it had its own set of issues—but being away from the watchful eye of both the Empire and the Hutt Cartel up in the Corellian District meant that you could get away with more.

You couldn't even stop for a slice of pie at the Meltdown Cafe without getting stopped by some sleemo asking questions.

Eddie always preferred the seedier parts of planets though. You could talk to more people, hear interesting stories, and get better paying jobs. Plus, you could find real music, instead of the trendy, commercialized, sanitized entertainment in the tourist traps of the Upper City.

The Surly Sarlacc was just that kind of place. They'd found it on their first excursion on-planet, when they were younger and new to the smuggling game. They didn't have much besides contact with one of Lip’s buddies, but they had a reliable ship and a can-do attitude, so the owner of the Sarlacc took a liking to them. Not only their work ethic, but their music.

"We could have a two-for-one thing happening," he offered. "You do a few jobs for me, and you can play your little band here and we'll call it a cover. Call it even."

"And you'll give us free drinks," G'areth haggled with the Rodian.

"Kid has gumption," was the response, but a quick handshake sealed the deal.

The cantina had been their base of operations whenever they were in the system from that point on.

"If it's not my favorite guys," came a voice from the crowd once they'd gotten settled in at their booth. Thraffort Bing, a small-time Iktotchi spice dealer, elbowed through and took a seat at their table. "How was Jakku?"

"Sandy," Dayv scoffed. "I hate sand."

"I'm not in the business of advertising our travel plans Thraff," Eddie said with a sigh. "Were you looking for something special that we might've acquired at Ponemah Terminal or are you just making smalltalk before you ask us for a bigger favor?"

Thraff placed a hand on his chest in outrage, but dropped the act upon the skeptical glares of the whole crew.

"I might need a hand picking up a shipment from the Pykes," he admitted, immediately earning the groans of all four young men. He held out his hands and tried to play the innocent card. "Hey now, I'll make it worth your while."

"I hate doing deals with the Pykes," Jeff groaned. "You either insult them, or you insult the Hutts."

"They're gossips," Eddie added with a tight, condescending smile. "You remember what happened last time we worked with them, Thraff; the Dragonborn was flagged at every spaceport in the outer rim."

The conversation continued, the boys arguing back and forth with their potential associate until it was time for their set.

That was the real benefit of using the Sarlacc as their base—they could get away from unruly offers like that one.

They were quick to down their drinks and excuse themselves from the uncomfortable conversation.

Smuggling might have been the key to a continued existence for Corroded Coffin, but music would always be their passion.

Once they were up on that stage, things were different. They weren't just dumb kids, trying their hands at smuggling, stumbling their way through one job or another. They were living their dream.

The stage at the Sarlacc was definitely what one could call makeshift. But having some kind of entertainment in your cantina was always a bonus. A lot of the other places that Corroded Coffin performed over the years had dancers, some had in-house bands like theirs—they'd even played a battle of the bands once.

Eddie started strumming his guitar along to the beat, staring past the blinding makeshift spotlights that had been erected and into the crowd. Bodies shifted, heads bobbed, drinks were poured and served quicker than they had been before. The newfound energy in the room was undeniable, and it was all because of them!

And Eddie basked in it.

All of the good feelings, all of the applause, all of the joy and enjoyment, just because of them.

It was the same feeling he got when they finished a job; their benefactors were happy with their swift and discreet services, the smuggled goods always delivered on time and with very little trouble from either the Empire or the cartels.

For the first time in his life he was good at something. They all were.

They played for almost an hour, watching as patrons entered the cantina, stayed for drinks and entertainment, and then left.

And then something unexpected happened.

Among the sea of unrecognizable faces, leathers and homespun clothes, in the seedy underbelly of the Smuggler’s Moon, there was a flash of bright blue and orange.

A human woman with bright blue curls styled fashionably upon her head, and the cleanest jacket Eddie had ever seen in his life, let alone on this planet, proudly bearing a sharp and obvious logo on the sleeve.

What was a Star Tours flight attendant doing here of all places? And dressed so...conspicuously.

The Red Light District was about as far from the spaceport as you could get, and certainly wasn't a place for tourists. He'd seen many unassuming travelers come to Nar Shaddaa for the casinos or the clubs, and then get lured into the depths of the city, only to get robbed or swindled or simply disappear forever. Surely Star Tours gave that warning to their employees; if she just wanted to stop for a drink, she could have it anywhere else.

As he auto piloted through the remainder of the performance, Eddie's eyes stayed locked on her—as did many others with more nefarious purposes than him. He watched as she navigated through the crowd, seemingly unaware of the attention she drew to herself, and approached the bar.

At first, he thought she would sheepishly order a drink and maybe dance, but she tapped on the shoulder of a figure dressed head to toe in black leathers, head obscured by a helmet.

A recipe for disaster. You didn't just tap on people's shoulders.

But the leather-clad stranger turned and greeted the flight attendant enthusiastically, setting an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer to the bar.

What a relief.

Although he no longer needed to keep an eye on the newcomer, Eddie still noticed his eye being drawn to that bright, colorful figure sharing drinks with her friend.

He figured that it was hard not too; once again, she was a seemingly obvious target here amongst a sea of strangers. Once though, towards the end of their set, he glanced up from his guitar to stare at her and his eyes locked with hers as she bobbed her head to the music. A sense of calm washed over him instead of the panic that he expected.

He squinted his eyes a bit to try and see her face a little better through the makeshift spotlights, and found her smiling and laughing along with her friend, who gestured wildly towards the stage. Her eyes shifted away for a moment and she said something, then back to Eddie, and then away again.

Back and forth a few times until she fully turned herself away from the stage.

But not before she gestured at him with an exaggerated clap, as if to say their music was good.

Eddie couldn't help the bashful smile that bloomed on his face.

It was unfortunate for Eddie that the person who'd gotten his attention was such an obvious target, because that meant his buddies had noticed her in the crowd too.

"Come on, you gotta go over there and talk to her," Jeff insisted, hand clamped on Eddie's shoulder.

"I dunno man," he groaned and tried to roll his eyes at the suggestion.

"Did you suddenly become a monk overnight?" Dayv scoffed. "What is this?"

Eddie wouldn't call himself a philanderer—he knew other smugglers who were the biggest whores in the galaxy—but he wasn't exactly picky when it came to bedmates.

None of them were.

It got lonely in space! And there were so many beautiful souls out in the galaxy with stories to tell and moves to make and pleasure to give. Who were they to say no when they were not in the middle of a job and had an actual bed to sleep in, instead of their assigned bunks on the Dragonborn?

But there was something about this woman that felt...different.

Something that told him to go over there, and something that told him that if he did, it might change his life forever.

A feeling in Eddie's gut.

"To hell with your gut feelings, Ed," G'areth punched him in the arm. "Go over there and put the moves on her!"

"She's got blue hair," Dayv added. "You know what they say about girls with blue hair."

"You know what they say about Star Tours Flight Attendants," Jeff hissed the amendment in his ear. "They're always putting out and it's always wild. Now go and get it. This is all of our collective dreams and she smiled at you. Go!"

They all clapped Eddie on the shoulder and pushed him towards the bar.

It was the most nervous that he'd ever been in his entire life.

More than the first time he'd flown the Dragonborn, more than when he'd told Wane he and the guys would be leaving Bracca to start their own adventure despite the watchful eye and iron fist of the Empire, more than running his first job as a smuggler.

More than the first time they'd been hired for a job by Jabba the Hutt himself.

He tried to convince himself that this was just regular jitters, tried to practice pick-up lines in his head. He knew that if it was too strange and uncomfortable, he could just buy this woman a drink and then walk away.

But the moment he was at arm's length of her and her leather-clad friend, that calming feeling returned.

It felt...special. Different. It was addictive, like spice. Brought down all of the defensive walls that he put up and replaced them with tranquility.

Was anyone else feeling this? Or was it just him?

The leather-clad figure nudged the flight attendant and then gestured to him; they muttered something quickly in Huttese and then excused themselves. Eddie couldn't help but watch as they exited the cantina entirely.

Then they were alone.

And he was oddly ok with that.

"You just gonna stand there?" the woman asked with a small smile as she sipped her drink—a bubbling green concoction Eddie happened to favor when he wasn't going for whatever was on-tap.  "Or are you gonna order something?"

Eddie immediately stepped forward and tapped his hand on the bar; the bartender was quick to pour him a draft of Gamorrean ale.

"I'm Thalia," the flight attendant greeted as he took a sip. He glanced back at her, keeping his mouth on the rim of his glass as he observed her in close proximity.

She looked...tired.

That was the first thing that came to mind. Something that wasn't so obvious from afar, especially not with her polished exterior. She was about as old as he was—that is to say, not all that old at all, he'd just turned 26 not too long ago—but he saw it in her eyes and her posture and the way that she breathed. Exhaustion practically came off of her in waves, almost as much as the calm did.

She looked as tired as he did when he saw his own reflection. A good sort of tired, a fulfilled tired, but tired nonetheless.

"I'm Eddie," he finally offered in his own greeting. "Eddie Moonsun, nice to meet you."

"Your band played great up there," she said immediately. "You were great. Have you been together for very long?"

"We've been friends since we were kids," Eddie offered and leaned against the bar. "Actually started playing...7 or 8 years ago?"

Thalia snorted a bit of a laugh into her drink and then schooled her expression to something more neutral; Eddie narrowed his eyes at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me, I can take a joke," he insisted. An interesting thought came to his mind, a bending of logic to try and explain why he felt comfortable here with her. "Had you seen us play when we first started? I wouldn't blame you if you booed."

"No, nothing like that," Thalia dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Then what?"

She tapped a finger against the edge of her glass and then leaned a little closer to him conspiratorially.

"Awfully brave of you to start a band when the Emperor is so vocal about his hatred of culture." The corners of her mouth quirked, but she leaned back and her eyes shifted around. "Sorry."

"Hey," Eddie laughed. "If you think you're going to find anyone sympathetic to the Empire in here, I've got some news for you, sweetheart."

That was the kind of flirting he craved; the stick-it-to-the-man type that probably wasn’t flirting at all. He was as keen to one-night-stands as the next guy, but a little defiance always translated well in the bedroom. She had gumption; he liked gumption.

Thalia got a glint in her eye and she pulled her shoulders back confidently.

"I'm surprised we're allowed to have music in the galaxy at all," she announced. "The Emperor is a tyrant! Did you ever hear that he shut down all of the artist academies on Naboo? Naboo! That's essentially the birthplace of art in the galaxy."

Eddie tossed his head back and cackled at the fire behind her words.

"You sure you're just a flight attendant?" he questioned playfully. "Seems like you're trying to start a rebellion."

"Maybe not a rebellion." She scrunched her nose and took a sip of her drink. "But I can be a concerned and outraged citizen at times."

Eddie glanced back at his buddies at their table, who all shot him gestures of encouragement, then he looked back. He confidently took a step closer, until he was in close proximity, close enough to see beyond the tiredness again. To notice the plumpness of her lips, to hear her breathing, and see the color of her eyes.

A swirl of browns and greens, organic and wild. Something he wasn't quite used to, especially now in this life he'd made for himself.

"What else are you concerned and outraged about, Thalia?" he asked, voice soft and low.

She stared at him through hooded eyes, and replied seductively, "I'm concerned about how much of a cut you take off a smuggling job, and if I'd be able to afford it."

The impact of her words hit him hard. The realization.

He backed away from her and eyed her suspiciously.

So that was what she was doing on Nar Shaddaa.

"Not even a flight attendant then, huh?" he asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. He should've known that she wasn't interested in him, just what he had to offer.

"No, I am." She nodded, her eyes got soft and apologetic. "Gotta pay the bills somehow."

"Right," he scoffed. He knew how well smuggling paid the bills. "So what cartel are you working with? Crimson Dawn? The Wandering Star Gang?"

"None of them," Thalia shook her head and tried to close the distance between them again, almost desperately. "You could consider me...a freelancer. Or part of a network of them. Someone wants something, we find it for them, work together to help the product get to the destination."

"Lady, I've heard that before," Eddie scoffed and threw back the remainder of his drink. "Before I hauled a hundred tons of Death Sticks to Mondo-Mod's Arena of Doom. Have a nice day."

He slammed his glass down on the bartop and was about to turn and head towards his friends, when Thalia grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip and tugged him back to her.

He looked into her eyes again and really saw the desperation there. He fought the calm feeling this time, choosing instead to try and harness his annoyance.

It didn't matter what she said to him. He would tell her to kark off and find someone else to haul freight across the galaxy.

"I'm telling you the truth," she insisted through gritted teeth. "I'm a one-person operation. There’s a bit of cargo at the Nar Shaddaa spaceport that needs to get to Coruscant and it must not be found by the Empire under any circumstances.

"I know I was kidding around earlier but I'll pay anything for your services. Yours. I know all about you, Eddric Moonsun of Bracca. You and your friends. And I set up this exchange, on this planet, on this day, knowing you'd be here. There isn't anyone else who can take this job. It has to be you."

He was shocked when she mentioned Bracca. Sure, it wasn't like it was a secret if you knew where to look, but in order to protect their families back home, he and his friends kept their cards close to their chests.

So how this...Star Tours flight attendent...knew was concerning.

And why she'd sought him out specifically.

"Me?" he snorted in disbelief. "Why me?"

"Because you might not think so but you have a reputation about you. And you might think you're mean and scary or suave or just a scoundrel...but you’re a good man. You're the kind of person who keeps their eye on a single woman who stands out in a crowd on a dangerous planet like this one to make sure she doesn't get hurt. Or worse."

He practically flinched at how well she'd dished out that observation.

"So when said woman comes to you and asks for your assistance, we both know you'd take the job."

"And what if I said no?" he questioned. "Because I'm about 30 seconds away from going to find my buddy Thraff and accepting a job he offered earlier."

The hand gripping his arm got tighter, and the calmness around him suddenly turned to desperation. It was palpable; he couldn't even explain it. He was about to open his mouth again to question just what the kriff was happening, when he stopped and looked at Thalia.

And she looked at him, tears building up in her eyes as she met his challenge. 

"Help me, Eddie Moonsun," Thalia whispered. "You're my only hope."

Next Chapter: Episode 2: Not the Smuggler You're Looking For

The Tag List for Luminous Beings is currently open; please comment/ask/DM to be added.

[call-me-insane-but-wth]

I've hated the original ranma 1/2 animated adaptation for so long and so much. As someone who read the manga first and then saw snippets here and there of the adaptation, I couldn't understand why the fandom was that way.

Sexist and misogynistic and flanderizing Akane AND Ranma.

It came to a point where I started to wonder if there was a whole different ranma 1/2 I wasn't aware of. The fandom was so bad that I started writing ranma 1/2 spitefics of my own until I realized the futility. Because I knew that *I* wasn't wrong. It was the fandom!

Particularly the WESTERN fandom!

It sent me into a tizzy because weren't we the land of the free, home of the brave? Full of ideals that we always fall short of, but constantly struggle towards anyways?? Why are we, the western fandom so antiquated, sexist, and hateful when the source material is so optimistic and progressive!?

That's why, when I see content of people bemoaning the 'changes' of the ranma1/2 2024 reboot, I can't help but sneer and scoff. Wah, wah, the hair is supposed to be red, not pink. Wah, wah, the art style isn't as good. Why are Ranma's girl-body nipples being censored. Wah, wah, why is Ranma being singled out by the new fans as the problematic factor when Akane, our favorite punching bag, is right there.

It's especially the latter* that I identify all the complaints to be stemming from. Because this reboot is actually manga canon accurate, and setting aside the superficial details, all their gripes are camouflage for their true willfull ignorance and biases.

The point of the narrative was to show the idiosyncratic behaviors of two growing and learning teenagers. They're both going to be unlikeable at certain stages. But no matter what, as readers and watchers, the original intent of the narrative is to show that despite their martial arts prowess and superhuman abilities, they're just two kids trying to do the right thing even when the world is confusing and chaotic.

In our current social climate, thankfully, the demographic has become more aware of toxic gender roles, sexism, and exploitation. Some criticism is being leveled at Ranma because the writing (of this reboot) is no longer incomprehensibly biased against the female lead, Akane.

Sorry, not sorry that your antiquated sexist tropes are being lambasted by the canon narrative.

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Paring: 10k x reader

Warnings: Swearing, drug use

Chapter: 5.08

The more you try and wriggle your wrists free from the pole they are bound to, the deeper the rope cuts into your skin, but the stinging on your wrist was nothing in comparison to the talker who wouldn’t stop harping on and on. After Doc was shot with an arrow, someone knocked you and 10k out. The next thing you’re aware of is waking up in a field.

The talker smiles at you, baring his rotten teeth and foul breath. “Your friend there looks a little pale,” he nods his head in 10k’s direction. “Just transitioned, has he?”

“He’s not a talker.”

“Then how come his hand fell off?”

10K frowns at the comment. You glance down at his stump and notice his bandages have been changed; before you can comment on it, the talker starts loudly harping on, and nothing he says makes sense.

“Dude, please stop talking!”

He continues to yell until Warren runs up and shoves a stick into his mouth, muffling his voice. “That's enough out of you,” she starts to untie the knot. “Who did this to you?”

“I dunno, and I would rather not find out.”

As soon as you are free, you go to untie 10k’s hand while Warren unties Doc. He looks up at her with admiration, “Chief, I have never been so pleased to see you.”

“I'm not the chief you need to worry about.”

You let out a scream of surprise as an arrow scrapes by your arm, “They’ve spotted us!”

“Keep your heads down!”

All of you start to flee towards a patch in the forest where the greenery is thicker and easier to hide in, but just as you're about to make it, Doc is shot with another arrow, this one landing in his ass.

“Oww!”

He stumbles to the ground; George pulls him back to his feet, but it’s too late. A group of people, aiming their weapons at you, surrounds you in a matter of seconds.

Warren raises her hands first. “We're not here to fight.”

“We're not your enemy.”

The woman who appears to be in charge whispers to the individual who is standing beside her, and he proceeds to bind the hands of all individuals.

—

The people known as the water keepers, with their weapons aimed at your back, take you as hostages and lead you to their camp. While they talk among themselves, you pick up a few words like ‘bombing’ and ‘zombies,’ and while trying to listen in, you notice a young boy standing watch nearby. You lower yourself until you are at his eye level. “Hey, I heard that you were also bombed.”

“Yeah, lots of times,” he nods. “Got hit by a zombie ball too.”

“Shh,” an older woman gives him a look that causes him to stop talking.

Not wanting to get the kid into trouble, you smile at him and back up. At the same time, George manages to free one of her hands and immediately reaches for her gun attached to her belt but is stopped by Warren.

“They haven’t hurt us.”

Doc scoffs, “Speak for yourself.”

“Something tells me your ass shot was just a warning, Doc.”

“We need to wait and watch,” Warren whispers. “They'll see we're not the enemy.”

—

It doesn’t take long for word to spread in camp that they had prisoners, and a familiar-looking woman with black hair soon comes to question why you were so close to the dam, but it turned out you’d met her once before at the Grand Canyon.

Kuruk.

Even though you didn't know her well, you remembered how much of a crush Doc had on her, and based on the way he looked at her, you could assume he still does.

Since you were friends of Doc’s, she ordered for your restraints to be untied. “I’m always thrilled to see Doc’s people.”

Kuruk explains that it’s her father who was responsible for the water dam, but someone has been trying to sabotage it, even going as far as planting bombs and trying to kill their people. Hearing this makes it easier to understand why they were so aggressive when you got too close to their home.

You recognize a tall woman with dark brown hair in neat braids. “Ayalla, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she smiles broadly and inspects you closely. “You are very brave for doing what few would dare to do. Bringing new life into our world.”

You look down at your stomach and frown; in your mind your baby was still nonexistent, but perhaps that wasn’t the case anymore. It becomes evident when others notice without being told.

Seeing you pout, Ayalla laughs, “I picked up on your energy. You have two very strong heartbeats beating inside you.”

A look of seriousness crosses 10k’s features. “Can you really tell that?”

She nods at him, then turns to face you, gesturing to 10k. “Can I borrow him? I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

“Um, sure… Tommy?”

He looks between the two of you; it takes him a moment to pick up on Ayalla’s tone and that she is joking. He rubs at the bandage covering his stump nervously, “Do you need help with something?”

“No, but I do think I could help you.”

—

While discussing a plan to try and find out who was attacking the dam, a talker barges into the camp. You could tell from its eyes that there was no humanity left, but the water keeps thought differently.

“You need to mercy it!”

One of the women tries to stop the walker without killing it by restating it. “No, we only resort to that as a final measure.”

“He’s going to kill her!”

“It’s not our way.”

You were in disbelief; you couldn’t understand why they weren’t fighting harder to save their friend. Fuck this. You pick up the blade that was used for slicing meat next to the small campfire and mercy the talker, but you’re too late. The talker bites the water keeper, tearing off the flesh from her neck.

Enraged that the incident could have been prevented, you stab the talker in the head before it can bite anyone else, earning you a few death glares. As the woman's loved ones gather around her limp body on the ground, with blood pooling from her neck, you retreat. Feeling helpless, you hold back tears. Why didn’t they just listen? Sometimes you miss the days when you had a clear understanding of what was right or wrong. At the start it was kill or be killed, giving a Z mercy was an act of kindness.

“Hey,” Doc pats your back. “You did everything you could.”

You watch as the waterkeeper comes back as a talker and lets out a deep breath. You slam the blade onto the table. “I’m going to check on Tommy.”

—

Irritation builds inside you while walking to the spot 10k and Ayalla went to, but you’re surprised to see that nobody is there.

“10k?”

You stand confused until you hear the sound of branches snapping nearby. You duck behind a large rock; it’s not until you turn and face the other way that you notice someone dressed in all black and wearing a mask trying to discreetly creep closer to the dam, and not far behind him was 10k.

You try to get 10k’s attention by waving, but he’s too far away to notice.

Not knowing what else to do, you start to do the same thing and follow them, being careful not to make too much noise in case the man in the mask spots the both of you.

—

“Damn it,” you mutter to yourself.

Upon entering an underground tunnel that was characterized by numerous turns and twists, you lost sight of them. The noise of your heavy boots was starting to become more noticeable, and you were afraid the masked man would hear it and find 10k while seeking the source of the sound, so you moved out of eyesight and counted for five minutes before moving again.

But now you are completely lost.

Turning a corner, you spot the start of a small trail of blood on the floor and withdraw your gun. Cautiously, you follow the trail down to the boiler room of the dam.

“10k!”

He lies unconscious, his back against the wall. You try to shake him awake, but he doesn’t move; that’s when you notice the bleeding bump on the back of his head. “No, no, no! Please wake up.

Usually you’d know what to do, but your thoughts had suddenly gone so hazy that it was becoming hard to think straight. You keep getting a cold chill, a strange sensation as if someone was reaching for you, but there was no one else there.

When drops of water land on the floor next to his body, you look up and see that the water from the boiler is now starting to overflow and is shaking.

“Oh no.” You get to your feet and attempt to pull 10K up, saying, “We need to go now.”

An alarm starts blaring, which you presume is being caused by the boiler being ready to explode. Feeling your grip on him starting to slip, 10k falls back down and lands on his ass with a thud. With no other choice, you rush to look for a way to turn off the main water supply. You quickly find the valve, but with it being so rusted, it’s difficult to turn.

Suddenly 10k stands up with an almost possessed look in his eyes; he looks like he’s a puppet being controlled by strings, but regardless, he helps you turn off the valve.

“Thanks, babe. What the hell happened to you?”

Before he can answer, another water pipe bursts.

—

You feel a sense of unease as 10K, and you run back and forth between different pipes, trying to turn them off and on before something explodes. The building was starting to shake, which didn’t give you much confidence, but something in the way 10k was acting wasn’t right.

A voice from the floor above unexpectedly asks, “Who's there?”

“The water stopped, then started again! We are trying to stop it.”

Your eyes widened. Perhaps it was a side effect of hormone changes, or you were outright hallucinating, but although 10K’s mouth was moving, it wasn’t him talking.

“Stop it? You started it!”

“No,” you snap out of whatever delusion you were having. “It wasn’t us.”

An older man comes into view; he looks directly down at you and, in a clear state of panic, reaches for his gun. Kuruk suddenly appears beside you. “Dad! They aren’t outsiders. They are George’s people!”

“Kuruk, you made it.” 10K smiles brightly at her and then turns to face the man. “Oh, and sorry, chief. I guess you didn’t.”

“…Tommy?”

“Oh, no, it’s me, Doc. Sorry, kid, I thought I told you that. 10K is still unconscious. I’m just borrowing his extremities.” He leans back against one of the largest pipes and slurs his words as if he’s drunk, “Oh, to be twenty again.”

“What the hell, Doc? Get out of my husband. I need to check he’s okay.”

“No can do, babe,” he chuckles at the last part.

Kuruk’s dad shouts down, “We can’t open the spill gate from in here. The saboteur must have gone into the emergency panel.”

You reluctantly call out, “Let's go, Doc!” and begin to follow the chief, grabbing 10k's gun.

—

The chief orders his people to go with his daughter to search for the intruder. Warren and George were close on the masked man’s trail; they found him by following the sound of gunshots.

You stand guard in the control room while Doc and the chief try to regain control of the dam.

“See number one, Doc? Crank it up to three,” the chief says.

Suddenly Doc makes a noise as if he’s going to be sick; he shakes his head. “I feel old. Kind of stoned.” He looks around the room, confused. Where are you?”

For a split second it looks as if a ghostly version of Doc moves out of 10k’s body and then vanishes. But that couldn’t be real… right?

10K blinks rapidly and looks at the chief. “What happened?”

“Saboteur.”

“10k!” You pull him in for a hug. “George and Warren are chasing the masked man we followed in here. I think he tried to kill you.”

“Well, let’s get our guns and go.”

—

You observe as the water keepers perform a small ceremony with singing and dancing that they believe helps the dead move on onto a better place. The chief managed to save the dam along with the rest of his people, and Kuruk informed George that once things had settled at the dam, they would be moving to Newamerica. You were glad, as it was clear there was something special between her and Doc.

You smile when 10k stands behind you and links his fingers with yours. When you met up with Warren, it didn’t take you long to figure out where the masked man had gone, and when you reached the balcony on the outside of the building, he was about to kill George, but 10k shot him in the head.

“I’m proud of you,” you say quietly. “I know how much you’ve been panicking thinking you won’t be able to protect us, but you saved George.”

“Yeah?” 10K leans in to kiss you, but you back away.

“Nope, sorry, it’s too weird. I’m still picturing Doc’s voice coming out of your mouth.”

10k pouts slightly while the rest of the group laughs. “Thanks a lot, Doc.”

“Better weird than dead, kid.”

With the dam saved, the five of you say your goodbyes to the water keepers to continue on your journey to seek the source of the mystery ingredient that would hopefully prevent talkers from turning.

—

You walk for roughly an hour when Warren spots an old-looking farmhouse up ahead. “Well, take shelter there until morning.”

The house has three bedrooms, and once the building is cleared and all the windows and doors are secure, you decide to call it a night since you’d be leaving at first daylight.

Doc picks the bedroom beside the bathroom upstairs since he was worried about being sick during the night because of how high he was earlier; whatever ‘spiritual’ drugs he took apparently caused him to be able to enter 10k’s body. Warren and George share the second bedroom that's upstairs while you and 10k take the only one on the ground floor.

Yawning, he closes the door behind you. “Yeah, so Ayalla helped me find a temporary hand.”

“Why a deer antler?”

You draw the curtains over while he explains that it was the best out of the options he had, plus it helps with learning how to balance a gun with only one hand.

“You know…” You turn back to face him, a wide smile on your face. “I don’t think it’s weird anymore.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he smirks, “Thinking about it, we haven’t had any quality time together since we arrived in Newmerica.”

While 10k removes the harness covering his stump and places the antlers on the bedside table, you chuckle and begin to remove the top half of your clothing. You straddle his lap, your lips clashing against his, and between kisses you say, “We need to be quiet.”

While being lost in the rush of stripping each other of your clothes, you are completely unaware that the enemy was watching the house only a short distance away.

[a-deep-ocean-of-secrets]

BuckTommy Fluffebruary

Day 1: Non-Sexual Intimacy

Summary:

After the longest shift of Buck's life, there's nothing he wants more than to curl up with his man.

Read below or on AO3 (3.2K words)

Buck could barely keep his eyes open as he pulled his Jeep into Tommy’s driveway after the longest 24 hours of his life. His shift had been an unrelenting slog from the moment he entered the station until the blessed moment he had finally been free to leave that particular circle of Dante’s hell. 

Call after call. Big calls. Little calls. Batshit crazy calls, like the woman who had hysterically rung 911 believing her husband, who was unresponsively stretched out on their ancient recliner in the living room, was dead. When the 118 had arrived with their sirens blaring and fearing the worst, they were baffled when the man perked right up and began talking to them. He hadn’t been dead, just dead set on ignoring his wife’s constant stream of conversation. 

And so it had gone. When coming back to the firehouse from a tedious call, the team had hardly had a moment to eat or clean or decompress before the alarm would shrilly blast throughout the station, and, with loud and despairing groans, they got back into the truck and off they went to serve and protect their community. 

Someone had to have uttered the dreaded Q-word. (Probably Ravi.) And when Buck got his hands on that certain someone, there would be hell to pay for the cursed shift he had just barely survived. 

And worse yet, Tommy had been just as busy—or even busier, god forbid—at his shift over at the 217 because the two had hardly been in contact for the last 24 hours. Texting his boyfriend a steady stream of consciousness of his innermost thoughts and feelings (interspersed with plenty of funny photos and memes) had become the highlight of Buck’s work days, and he had been cruelly denied the pleasure that was rapidly growing into an all-consuming addiction. 

When he cut the engine, it was as if he was a marionette whose strings had been snipped and he slumped forward and pillowed his arms on the steering wheel as he contemplated how pathetic it would be to fall asleep here in his vehicle instead of braving the twenty or so steps to Tommy’s front door. As awful as it’d be to have to walk (he’d been on his feet all day), he’d for sure wake up with a terrible crick in his neck if he stayed here. And besides that, his boyfriend was inside that house, which made it the obvious winner. Still, it took far too much energy to rouse himself to get out of the Jeep.

Grabbing his trusted duffle bag, Buck opened the car door and only whimpered a little as his feet landed on the unforgiving concrete driveway. He sluggishly shuffled his way up the walkway of Tommy’s postwar bungalow, dragging his feet in silent protest. When he reached the cheerfully painted canary yellow front door and stomped his feet on Tommy’s hilariously apt ‘Welcome! Just kidding, please go home’ doormat, he tiredly dug through the pockets of his sweatpants and pulled out Tommy’s house key. Dangling from it was a silver helicopter keychain and Buck couldn’t help but giddily smile at it as it gleamed in the early morning sunlight. 

Inserting the key into the lock, the door easily swung open as Buck made his way inside the home he had come to know as readily as the back of his hand. With his mind on autopilot, he quietly de-stressed. 

His Jeep was parked alongside Tommy’s truck outside. His keys clanked together as they plopped into the ceramic bowl on the sideboard in the foyer, right alongside Tommy’s own set of keys. He toed off his ratty sneakers and tucked them under the sitting bench, right next to Tommy’s worn boots. He dropped his duffle bag onto the leather cushion next to Tommy’s. 

It was all so automatic, all so routine. He had done this more times than he could count. Buck just fit in Tommy’s home, in his life. The synchronicity of it all wormed its way through the veins of his weary, exhausted body and warmed him from the inside out. The feeling was not dissimilar to being wrapped up tight, snug as a bug, inside an electric blanket on a cold winter’s day.  

Biting back a jaw-splitting yawn, Buck went to the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was quiet and peaceful as dewy morning light trickled in through the east-facing windows in radiant, golden shimmers. 

He entered the kitchen and his eyes were immediately drawn to the crock pot situated on the butcher block countertop. Older than Buck, the weathered, cream-and-blue crockpot was adorned with a homely floral pattern, though the original design was now hard to discern through the various stains and scorch marks tarnishing its kitschy facade. It had been one of Grammy Kinard’s prized possessions and Tommy couldn’t bear to part with it when she died ten years prior. He had even fished it out of the trash when his father had callously thrown it out after her funeral. 

It was an eyesore compared to Buck’s modern and sleek GreenPan slow cooker, but it prepared a meal just as well and he could never begrudge Tommy his sentimentality, not when it was one of the many traits he adored about him. He peered through the plastic lid at the firehouse chili simmering away on low heat. 

In a few hours, the house would be filled to the brim with the rich, hearty aroma of tenderly slow-cooked beef, tomatoes, and beans. Fragrant with the mouthwatering scents of garlic, cayenne, ground cumin, oregano, and chili powder all melded together. Later, Buck would prepare Bobby’s famous and flavorful honey jalapeño cornbread to accompany the delectable chili. He licked his lips in anticipation of how decadent their dinner would be. They would feast like kings tonight. Which was perfect, as both were heading into their stretches of 96 hours off. 

Grabbing the pitcher of water from Tommy’s fridge, he poured himself a glass and was absentmindedly sipping it as he eyed the coffee maker and found the carafe full of a fresh brew and being kept warm by the machine. When they awoke from their post-shift nap, coffee would be readily available for consumption. That kind of proactive thinking had Buck so often hot under the collar when it came to his boyfriend. 

He gulped the last of his water just as he spied a paper bag resting innocently on the counter with a familiar logo plastered across it. Clinging to it was a neon blue sticky note. Buck reached forward and plucked it off as he was greeted with Tommy’s familiar, blocky handwriting. 

I stopped at Baked Bliss on my way home and picked up some sugar for my sugar. ~ T 

“Dork,” Buck couldn’t help but mutter with a low chuckle, but his expression turned helplessly fond as his finger reverently traced over the clumsily drawn heart Tommy had placed after his initial. 

Baked Bliss was a bakery that opened a few months ago near Harbor and quickly became Buck’s go-to place to stop when visiting his boyfriend at work. They had everything: cookies, cupcakes, muffins, cakes, cinnamon rolls, and more. Tearing into the bag, Buck groaned loudly as he pulled out a key lime coconut cronut. His absolute favorite. 

It was beautifully baked and flaky, with coconut icing encircling the top and garnished with fresh lime zest. The citric scent tickled his nose in the most delightful way as Buck wasted no time taking a gigantic bite. He moaned indecently as soon as the pastry dough melted on his tongue. Barely stopping to swallow, he proceeded to devour the baked treat. 

He knew he wasn’t exactly the classiest of eaters. 

Maddie had given him shit for years about his seemingly abysmal table manners, but she was his sister, so that didn’t really count, right? And to be fair, he had tried to curb the bad habit around his partners with varying degrees of success. After the emergency tracheotomy, he had been too scared to really eat around Abby, worried he’d nearly kill himself again like the idiot he had been. Ali and Natalia hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to move past his early relationship jitters, so neither had been subjected to the full Evan Buckley Experience™. At a certain point in his relationship with Taylor, she’d just roll her eyes and mutter about him needing a pig trough. Which was rude, but her caustic sense of humor had never bothered him. So he liked people who were bitchy and a little mean? He had a type. 

She had that in common with Tommy, but luckily for Buck, Tommy found his table manners adorable rather than grotesque. So he was free to stuff his face as much as he pleased, all while his prime rib of a boyfriend gazed at him with doting eyes. More than once, Chimney had gagged at their antics and ordered them to stop being so disgustingly in love. 

But Buck had no intention of stopping, thank you very much. 

Once the cronut was gone and Buck’s fingers were licked clean, he hummed happily to himself as he surveyed the kitchen. After dealing with a shift just as backbreaking as his own, his boyfriend had driven to Buck’s favorite bakery to pick up his favorite treat and then driven home, prepared their chili, and got a batch of coffee brewing. 

Buck adored him with everything he had. 

Speaking of which, where was Tommy? He had yet to make an appearance and the house was serenely peaceful. Placing the glass in the sink and throwing the bag into the recycling bin, Buck turned on his heel and made his way to the bedroom.  A trail of Tommy’s clothes was randomly thrown around the hallway and guided his path. He pushed open the bedroom door and leaned against the doorway as he took in the endearing sight. 

Tommy was flopped haphazardly across the bed on his stomach. It was almost as if he had face-planted onto the mattress in his haste to get into bed and then was too tired to wriggle his way under the covers. So, instead, he had given up the fight, falling asleep right on the spot. His sturdy back rose and fell with deep, measured breaths and he peacefully slumbered as every exhale came out as a wailing whistle. He was clothed in nothing but his black boxer briefs that did amazing things to his ass, accentuating every ample curve. He must have showered at Harbor, for his hair was fluffy and free of product in the way that drove Buck wild, making him resemble a precious newborn chick more than anything else. 

Like an artist admiring his magnum opus, Buck pressed his shoulder into the doorframe as his eyes slowly and devoutly took in every feature and quirk of the man he loved with his entire heart. 

He began with the elegant swoops of Tommy’s arches and the thin, wiry scar stitched across his right heel from a childhood accident. Then, there was the way his second toes were just a smidge longer than his big ones; a fact that Tommy was embarrassed by, but Buck was completely enamored with. He loved tracing them on movie nights as the two lounged on the couch with Tommy’s feet in Buck’s lap. He’d massage them, digging his fingers into the arches and watching with glee as Tommy squirmed and attempted to hide his snorting laughs into the curve of his shoulder. And every time he had the gall to deny that he was ticklish there. No matter how much Buck made him giggle. 

Buck’s eyes slowly dragged up Tommy’s strong legs. He admired how they were splattered with downy leg hair, like numerous paint strokes slashing Tommy’s skin. He still remembered the first morning he woke up with Tommy in his bed. The other man had been a furnace at Buck’s backside as sweltering heat blazed across Buck’s naked, sleep-soft skin. His thick arm had been thrown proprietarily across Buck’s stomach, anchoring Buck to him as if afraid he’d slip away in his sleep. 

Which was completely ridiculous, because where else would Buck want to be than bunkered down with his beast of a man? Their legs had been tangled together and Buck’s neurons had been firing off in all directions as he shifted and felt the delicious friction of their leg hairs rubbing together. A far cry from the soft suppleness of women’s legs, even the ones who hadn’t enjoyed shaving. Not better or worse, just different in a way that had Buck’s engine revving. 

Buck’s eyes purposefully traveled upward to the two dimples grooved into the swell of Tommy’s lower back. God, did Buck love those two little craters crafted into the moonscape of Tommy’s skin. They were like homing beacons to him; it didn’t matter where they were or who they were with, but his thumbs always found purchase within those two dimples. 

When they were spending their weekends at the local farmers’ market, Buck’s arm would be slung around Tommy’s waist as his thumb settled into one of the dimples. Cuddling together on the couch, his hands always found their way under Tommy’s shirt to those two little furrows. When Tommy was above him, his thighs bracketing Buck’s hips as he rode him with reckless abandon, Buck’s hands always locked around his waist, his thumbs pressing into the skin with enough force to bruise. 

Those dimples were designed specifically for Buck’s thumbs. He firmly believed that. 

Buck’s eyes feasted on the sight of Tommy’s muscular back and the wide expanse of bare skin. Now, that was a canvas masterpieces were painted on. Dotting the landscape were numerous freckles and moles of varying sizes and colors. They were peppered up and down the slope of his spine. An entire universe of stars was contained to Tommy’s back; Buck’s very own starry night. 

Swaying in the doorway, Buck suddenly had the brilliant thought that the only thing better than admiring Tommy from a distance was getting up close and personal. Better yet, getting his hands all over the man in question. He quickly stripped off his clothes until he was left in only his boxer briefs, lowered himself onto the bed, and began crawling up it. 

His hands and knees sank into the sinfully soft mattress and Buck let out a weary sigh as any remaining tension from his hellish shift completely seeped away. He slithered along Tommy’s side until his head could rest on a pillow and he was pressed to Tommy’s robust body. Now that he was in close proximity, the freckles and moles were even more mesmerizing as they stood out brilliantly against Tommy’s creamy skin. 

With the utmost gentleness, he brought his callused fingers to Tommy’s back and began tracing over the various spots and splotches, forming his very own constellations. Not the hunters, maidens, or fierce creatures charted by the ancient Greeks, but renderings of his imagination brought to life against the backdrop of his boyfriend’s skin. 

A racing rabbit. A sparrow in mid-flight. A daffodil with its petals raised towards the sun. There were infinite possibilities to explore and create and Buck couldn’t wait to come back to them time and time again. Tommy was his North Star. The most dazzling one in the entire night sky, and all Buck’s. 

Overcome with affection, Buck replaced his fingers with his lips as he kissed the individual knobs of Tommy’s spine. He could feel the heady warmth of Tommy’s skin as it splayed before him. He deliberately worked his way up the curvature of Tommy’s back and had just reached the bend where his neck met his broad shoulder when movement below caught his attention. 

Tommy snuffled himself awake as a shuddering sigh passed through his body. And like an overly-indulgent cat in a sunbeam, he stretched out his long limbs. His back rippled intoxicatingly, like a pebble bouncing off the surface of a calm lake. 

“Ev’n?” he sleepily murmured as he buried his head further into his pillow. “Iz t’at you?” 

“Yeah, babe. It’s me,” Buck whispered, keeping his voice low as he propped his chin on Tommy’s shoulder. He tilted his head and watched as Tommy’s face began to come to life. A furrow developed in the grooves of his forehead as his eyebrows scrunched towards each other. His dry lips smacked together as he worked up to speak. His eyes blinked blearily and Buck watched enraptured as he caught the barest flicker of blue. 

Moderately more awake, Tommy sleepily asked, “How was work?”

“Long. Exhausting. Bizarre.” Buck punctuated every word with a kiss to the shell of Tommy’s ear and enjoyed the shiver that swept through his boyfriend’s massive body. He was so responsive, in all ways. It drove Buck mad, and if he weren’t so physically drained he’d do something about it. But alas… 

“What were you doing to my back? I could feel you.” 

Buck felt a flush spread rapidly across his cheeks that surely was the same color as his birthmark, but he didn’t demur at being found out. Honesty was the best policy and all that jazz.

“Tracing constellations.” 

Tommy snorted as he raised his head and met Buck’s gaze. Humor and fondness were clear in his eyes as the two looked at each other. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“You have an entire galaxy mapped out across your back. How could I resist?” Buck let his fingers tenderly run up and down Tommy’s spine as he spoke. 

Tommy’s lips quirked. “You’re so weird. I love it.” 

From anyone else, the words would have had Buck ducking away self-consciously, but from Tommy, they were a compliment of the highest order. Tommy never made him feel as if he was Bucking things up by simply being himself. He embraced all of Buck’s oddities and tendencies. He didn’t just embrace them, but was enthusiastic in diving into Buck’s psyche; always asking for more, more, more. 

It seemed Tommy was not as tired as he let on because, within the blink of an eye, he had rolled onto his back and had Buck gathered up in his arms. Their bodies were pressed together from head to foot and Buck reveled in the gluttonous sensation of so much skin-to-skin contact. The combined heat of their bodies was an inferno unto itself as it burned and burned. Buck basked in its dizzying glow. 

Like a brand, Tommy pressed his lips to Buck’s temple. Buck hummed contentedly as he burrowed further into Tommy, his earlier exhaustion creeping in as sleep tugged persistently on his drooping eyelids. 

“Sleep now,” Tommy whispered, already halfway there himself. “I made coffee for later. And chili.”

“Can’t wait,” Buck replied. He couldn’t wait for all of it. The coffee. The chili. The cornbread. The upcoming four days spent together. The weekend trip to Napa Valley that was planned for next month. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year’s Eve. 

The rest of their lives. Together. 

Buck slid his head down Tommy’s chest until his ear was fitted over the steadfast heartbeat reverberating from within. 

Thump—thump—thump. 

The most beautiful sound in the world. 

And so together, they slept. 

@bucktommyfluffebruary

[paper-beats-writers-block]

The Marauders, Modern Facism, and Me.

This post is mostly for me, but if it makes you feel something too that's a bonus.

tl;dr for those with a TikTok attention span: The Marauders lived through their own version of the rise of facism. Use their story as not only inspiration, but as hope. Their passion and their love is what killed facism in the end.

The extended cut:

My name is Ren, and I live in the USA. Not just the US, but a red state in the midwest. And I am fucking terrified.

As well as being terrified, I have also really really struggled with being a part of the marauders fandom. Being a subsector of the HP fandom still means being in the HP fandom, and that's a hard thing to swallow right now for a lot of people for extremely good reason. We don't want to associate at all with Jackass Rowling, but we don't want to let the meaning and memories we've made of the content surrounding the series go, because that's a terribly hard thing to do.

I found the marauders at the ripe old age of fourteen, right after I had finished the HP series. I checked the seventh book out of my high school library on the last day before everyone left for quarantine on March 12 of 2020. After finishing the books I was scrolling pinterest and came across a piece of art that happened to be a cover of a marauders fanfic. The art was a link from pinterest, and it took me to wattpad, and that's how I found fanfic. They were the self insert characters "twin of sirius black" "the not like other girls female fifth marauders" and I probably read like twenty of them in a week. In the recommendeds of one of these stories, it took me to a full blown series of the marauders, clocking in at 2 million words+, and the author is still updating. and they're INCREDIBLE (the first four books (900k+) are on ao3 if anyone is curious let me know). I read all seven books at the time over my freshman year spring break.

I read for escapism, as many do, but I started to put these characters in every aspect of my life so I wouldn't be alone. I spent most of that summer in my bedroom researching on the HP website and plotting out a massive multi year fic that I started and never finished, and likely will never finish. But that one fic series I read did a lot for me. It gave me hope, and it gave me comfort. It gave me inspiration to write a series of my own and to plan and think and be creative. The most important thing that it did, though, was talk me through what it was like to be queer.

Third year Remus falling for his best friend and not having a clue in the world what to do about it, and Lily setting the best example I could ever ask for of how to react to that. Sirius realizing it right back a few months later. I spent my whole life in catholic schooling. I had never even heard of gay people. I read about Nico di Angelo when I was ten but it flew right over my head. and I had no idea yet, but Just like Remus, I was also in love with my best friend. Because of this series, I managed to skip the unskippable cutscene of most religiously-raised queer kids--the shame that usually comes with being a queer kid. Most of my high school friend group was queer. Nearly all of my college friends are. And I'm in a happy relationship and going on nearly three years with the same best friend I fell in love with at fourteen.

Onto the modern fascism part. America. land of the free, home of the brave and the dreamers. *scoffs* Tarrifs, billionaires, deportations, nazis, police brutality, inflation, and more horrible awful things that I didn't name. And that's just in my country. There's so much hate everywhere all the time and it just feels like bad news after bad news. I've spent the past few days bedridden with a sprained ankle with no motivation but to doom scroll and it only made me more depressed than I already am.

But what I was too young and naive to understand at fourteen, I have a better grasp on now being a few months from twenty: they grew up during the rise of wizard facism and wizard nazis. And when they left school, they fought like hell against it. They stood up for each other, they let their community stand strong. They lost friends and family, and people they trusted betrayed them, but they didn't lose every shred of hope they had. And even more than that, they still showed up for each other. They had meals together. They got drunk together. They celebrated birthdays and engagements and weddings.

We the Facist Fighters have already lost countless people. We the Facist Fighters have already been betrayed by the people that we trusted. But I am choosing to be inspired by these characters created by a jackass and make them my own--our own--instead.

"We buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night. The dance kept us in the fight because it was the dance we were fighting for." -Dan Savage. This quote was originally about the AIDS crisis, but it can, and I believe should, be applied both to the era of the wizarding war of the 70s, and now, in the real world 2020s.

[sarcophagid]

Night Watch 2024 Letter - Breakdown and Personal Thoughts

my personal thoughts and initial analysis of ithaqua's letter!

these are mostly just my own opinions and will bounce off some pre-existing ideas i have, so feel free to let me know if you'd like anything clarified or if you want to discuss your own thoughts!

readmore because it's very long:

A Stack of Unsent Letters to Home (2024) (It's speculated that this stack of 18th-century letters was frequently examined. The papers are worn and damaged to varying degrees. Below are excerpts from the organized and restored legible text.)

The 18th century line really throws me off. IDV's main events and manor games take place in the 1880s-1910s, and this detail states that the letters were written before 1800, which wouldn't make much sense if we assume both Ithaqua and Lagertha lived at the time of the manor games. It's also not a mistranslated '1800s' because the original Chinese version also states '18th century'.

Avoiding rambling as best as I can there are two main ideas this brings to mind:

The plateau of Leng is considered old itself, with practices that are possibly centuries behind 'modern' practice for the time. Lagertha and the Vilulf clan seem to be based off of vikings which were also figments of a much earlier past. This could be an effort to ease the time gap by setting the story earlier.

However, I still severely doubt either Ithaqua or Lagertha have lived all the way from the 1700s to the 1900s. As aforementioned, I have no concrete proof, but it's just not sensible for either of them to be supernatural beings themselves, given the thematic importance of Night Watch being a human disguised as a monster. If we assume the 18th century thing is true, then they died. If we assume it's not true, then Ithaqua is alive and Lagertha's fate is unknown.

EDIT: I started this analysis before Brynhildr Vilfulf dropped. Her weibo lore seems to imply Ithaqua's story did in fact take place 200 years ago, but I will leave this part up because I'm petty and the detail bothers me for reasons I will expand on in a later post. 

[I] The star cluster of Vilulf will fall into the fourth house, symbolizing the law of "disintegration." This powerful force compels the life chart to discard the old and embrace the new—not in a gentle manner like a snake shedding its skin, but rather with the sudden breaking of a dragon bone, causing thousands of tons of iron and wood to sink to the depths of the sea. —The prophecy of the star atlas foretells suffering. My brave Ragnar, how have you fared? You were still young when I left Medan, yet I believed you would ultimately choose to follow the old man and navigate the oceans. I have no idea where to send this letter, but I trust that the power of the universe will carry my thoughts to you as I write under the moon.

I will have to check the original chinese text to see if there's any nuance I missed for many of these terms TOT. I think I may make a separate post looking into these specific terms, but for now I will look at the general idea.

Lagertha seems to be describing the movements of a fictional star cluster associated with the Vilulf clan, fortelling of a sudden, possibly dangerous event that would change the trajectory of her life (most likely foreshadowing meeting Eta/Ithaqua). 

As stated on the wiki, Ragnar and Lagertha are based off of Viking folk figures who were married. But in this letter, she seems to talk about him more as a younger relative than a spouse (I'm going off the wiki's old note on the chinese translation but I will come back to confirm/deny). The 'old man' could be another relative and also possibly a clan leader. 

I hope that when you gaze up at it, your spirit will be stirred to heed my guidance: Ragnar, do not attempt to conquer lands with ships. Our era has passed. Ragnar, gather our people and leave the Indian Ocean. Head north to Scandinavia, where you can rest and recuperate for at least a century.

The Vilulf clan is presumably Scandinavian. Lagertha in Viking legend is also from Norway. The Vilulf clan isn't explicitly stated to be Vikings, but they seem a bit inspired by general writing stereotypes associated with them.

They also engaged in some sort of "conquering".

Ragnar, I do not wish for you to abandon your beliefs, but please understand that the rationality and morality of humanity form the true foundation of a just society. A well-ordered world is the only environment where true freedom can thrive, and it is this discipline that will illuminate the world with the light of civilization.

Lagertha has clear and firm ideas about morality and order. She believes that people require a sense of structure and logic to adhere to, and sees civilization in a positive light. This is a detail I will come back to later with more context.*

Anyways, her ideas constrast Ithaqua's philosophy of giving up civility and humanity in general - he believes these things to be unhelpful, false, harmful. Ithaqua most closely associates them with the society in Leng, and the society that Nathaniel represented. But we now see that Lagertha was also a very order and structure oriented person, just in a different manner. 

[II] Back then, the old man often said that in the brief span of life, you and I would eventually be gone; he urged us to be bolder. I understood that he was imparting the values of our family—honor, freedom, adventure, and the spirit of resilience. Yet, his words also inspired me to explore an alternate path in life. I found solace by the shore, wisdom in books, energy in the city, and peace in the wilderness. Amid the winds of the grasslands, I discovered a different kind of faith that resonated deeply with my soul. Had the old man known, he would have deemed me a traitor and perhaps even broken my legs. But the call of the north was undeniable, and it held true transcendence and meaning, guided by the sea of stars.

The Vilulf clan values freedom, she also mentioned freedom in the previous letter. There's a degree of tragic irony given what eventually happens.

Lagertha followed the same faith as the other Vilulf clan members, but after travelling north, she converted to a different one. It is possible this is the same faith as the dominant, christianity-analogous religion in the Plateau of Leng. This detail is corroborated by the weibo description of her as "devout/god-praising" and Ithaqua finding it illogical and hypocritical to claim she was transgressing against it. 

However, my journey was far from smooth. The remote northern lands were as perilous as the sea, filled with their own brutalities and sins. Each time I offered seed pods to pregnant women or rowan berries to those in need, I felt the watchful eyes of the local church committee upon me. The already tense atmosphere became dangerously charged, forcing me to move on before I could linger too long.

I'll tentatively assume Leng is the product of a few creative liberties, because there aren't many countries farther north than Norway that are also a close match for the British-esque culture in Leng. 

Her practice of offering medicine and berries was most likely misconstrued as witchcraft, and her being an outsider also likely contributed to the distrust. 

Ragnar, you might think I am struggling. Lagertha, who once fought valiantly before you, now lives like a deserter, avoiding bloodshed. Yet, I find myself questioning whether my true self ever existed at sea. The concept of "my true self" is fluid, and the quest to "become my true self" is a journey without end.

*To expand on the aforementioned detail about valuing civilization and morality: Lagertha's past, and the Vilulf clan in general are no strangers to violence, conflict, and potentially disorder. At least some of this conflict arises from a practice of 'conquering' or otherwise invading other lands. There's not enough details nor do I plan on making statements on anyone's political views from this scant knowledge, but it's clear that Lagertha underwent a significant personal shift after leaving her clan, where she now adopts a less violent lifestyle, valuing order and civility.

EDIT: Brynhildr Vilulf's new weibo post gives some more context - the Vilulf clan was considered socially separate from the other clans, disliked for their isolation and rejection of other clans norms. However, this is not necessarily a negative trait, as they also did not have the prejudices of that time.

This is purely personal interpretation, but "true self" is very interesting considering the issue posed by Ithaqua and Nathaniel's birth - two identical people have drastically different personalities and values because of mostly environmental factors - implying a "true self" is not concrete, but rather a mutable identity that changes over time. The fact that Lagertha transitions from the lifestyle associated with the Vilulf clan to a much more peaceful one is another example of this concept. 

[III] I believe I have discovered a piece of the "meaning." I have named him Eta. The star η Ursae Majoris hangs in the northern sky, serving as my guide. 

Eta is the 7th letter of the Greek alphabet, and his character day is Dec 7. 

The star is also known as Alkaid, and Beidouqi in Chinese (North Dipper Seventh, as the star is considered the 7th star in the constellation).

Ursa Major is also related to the "mother bear" constellation. 

Remarkably, this star has led me to this young life. He is intelligent and tenacious, possessing the courage and strength to stand firm. Unlike you, his strength is deeply internalized, making him perhaps more like me. 

Ithaqua canonically not the beefiest guy around, but from his design that was probably inferable TOT.

The old man valued character above lineage, and he would surely recognize Ithaqua as a member of our clan. So, when you come to visit, please remember to address him by his name: Eta Vilulf. As for me, I might not be able to wait for your arrival, as the star atlas indicates I must travel far after three years. But he is still so young. Will a few years together be enough for him to learn to thrive on his own?

[IV] Dear Ragnar,I am truly happy to hear that your astrolabe is back on track! This is a promising sign.  This opening implies that she had gotten a response from Ragnar, but her letters were unsent, so I'm not sure if they communicated through some other way. Eta has kept me from stargazing for quite some time, possibly because he was worried about my strange behavior when I predicted that my star cluster would fall into the fourth house. He tends to treat me like a fragile being who can't manage even the simplest tasks. I wonder how he would react if he knew his mother was the second mate on the Medan. But I digress. You are on your way to the peninsula, are you not?

As stated on the IDV wiki, 'Medan' may be a reference to the ship 'Ourang Medan' which disappeared in Indonesia (this would've been in the Indian Ocean). 

Ithaqua has always been a bit protective of Lagertha… he also might be skeptical of Lagertha's astrological predictions, given he would rather her not stargaze. 

It also seems she predicted the event of the attack as referenced earlier, but chose to stay. 

This change has taken fifteen years longer than I initially expected. 

I have a tentative guess at Ithaqua's 'canon' age: In the previous letter, Lagertha said that she predicted she had to leave Ithaqua after three years. Adding this to her prediction, it's been at least 18 years since she found Ithaqua as an infant. However, this letter was also probably unsent, and most likely was written close to the time of the hunters attack. 

This is in line with Ithaqua's weibo post saying that the attack happened when he "became an adult". Ithaqua probably remained as Night Watch for any time between a few months - a few years, but this is a bit more evidence that he's a 'young adult'. 

Perhaps I should adjust my interpretation: everything has a natural trajectory toward improvement. "Disintegration" can signify both the end of one cycle and the beginning of another. By recalibrating the ego's inertial patterns, one can harness a powerful regenerative force. Just like the treasures controlled by Pluto can only be unearthed amid peril, as long as you stay steadfast in the face of danger, you will ultimately prevail. Perhaps the danger I foresaw is not destruction after all; it may nurture life and grant me a few more years with him. Forever your family, Lagertha Vilulf

As a final general note, this series of letters solidifies Lagertha as a character who's very spiritual, and has an open minded and optimistic viewpoint on her predictions even when they don't seem to bode well. But as the audience, we know what happens eventually

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favorite fandoms? unfortunately, i have been neckdeep in fandomland since i was a kid, and i've been across many different ones. currently: enhypen, seventeen, stray kids, ateez, got7, monsta x, bangtan...lots of 'em 😭 but i am also into some games, a lot of show fandoms and such.

more under the cut!

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favorite color? contrary to the color i've chosen for this tag game, i am a purple fiend. i love purple and i've loved purple since i was 5 years old. borahae, putas.

favorite game? video game wise, stardew valley! everything else...idk, i like jenga. i like...uno. monopoly. i fuck bitches up at monopoly.

song stuck in your head? million years ago by adele, my i by svt junhao, pink pony club by chappell roan

weirdest habit/trait? uhhh i'm not sure! probably that i make a lot of weird little noises for no reason

hobbies? writing, singing, dancing, drawing, makeup, cooking, baking, sewing...i just like making stuff LOL

if you work, what is your profession? i currently work at a pharmacy! but i am also a med student :)

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? a novelist, or a songwriter.

something you're good at? making people laugh

something you're bad at? driving 💀

something you love? music. my faith. my family, the homies. i also love shoes and fashion.

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff? southern barbecue. have done it before, will do it again!

something you hate? i am incapable of hatred (people who refuse to change after issuing bullshit apologies.)

something you collect? photocards but not currently. i also like collecting jewelry and blankets!

something you forget? nothing. i have a very good memory, which is both a blessing and a curse.

what is your love language? i like to recieve & give gifts. however, i am also very fond of quality time and often indulge in parallel play with my friends. physical touch and i are not very good friends but if i am dating someone, it is very important to me.

favorite movie/show? so many! law & order svu, 2 broke girls, bob's burgers. as for movies, i love it, brave, mulan...the list goes on. i love films.

favorite food? anything my mom makes. i am a very finicky eater and i rarely eat at other people's homes.

favorite animal? cows!

are you musical? yes! i come from a very musical father, he loves to sing and dance and i am the same, however it is a very big part of my personality and i love to involve other people in singing with me and such.

what were you like as a child? i wanted to be cool :( i wanted people to like me! but aside from that, i was a very loud kid with introverted interests. i read a lot of books, i used to do speed reading competitions, and i struggled with a lot of things outside of the realm that i am willing to talk about. however, i was also a very anxious child who wanted to be liked and did everything she could to make that happen. as i grew older, i was bullied a bit but there is a lot of dynamics that play into that that i don't really want to get into. but, i wish little me knew she'd grow up to be pretty cool, anyway.

favorite subject at school? art and biology!

least favorite subject? math. i have dyscalculia.

what's your best character trait? funny, honest, confident.

what's your worst character trait? talks too much, anxious, selfish is 50/50.

if you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be? nothing! i'm about to go to bed! :)

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? my grandparents.

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