#there's a very normal amount of lana here

[idontcare4urmom]

wrong || matt sturniolo

stepbrother!matt x fem!reader

summary: where your dad found a new woman on his life after one year of your mom's death,so you are forced to live all together after a lot of pressure,but what you didn't know yet is that her son is a total temping being that will send you over the edge..in many ways.

warnings: smuttt,unprotected sex,not proofread,porn with plot,dirty talk,eating out,pet-names,suggestive,scratching,tits sucking,etc.

a/n: my first language is not English,this sure has some grammar or other errors so i am sorry<3

."🎀".

"what the fuck you mean we have to move in with her?" you were basically shouting on your dad,and you weren't sure if you were more annoyed at the fact that he had moved on so far already or cause he didn't even cared to ask you if you acknowledge with it.

"i told you too many times that this is a very big and important step to me honey,besides her place is absolutely flawless,you will love it" his words only made you angrier,but you decided not to push it anymore since you knew deep down it would be waste of time,he had made his decision.

--------------------------------------

the days passed quickly,and you found yourself holding your suitcase in front of a captivating building that would change a part of your life for many years,at least your dad did not lie,it was trully more than luxurious,so with a deep sigh you walked until the doorway with him,your anxious levels on high.

after a few knocks the door opened to reveal a surprisingly tall,appealing woman standing there,with brunette silky highlights and a pretty good enough shaped body,the sight made you furrow although you could tell why your father had fallen for her.you were caught off guard when you were the one she even pulled into an embrace first and seemed in general eager to meet you.

"oh sweetie your dad has told me many things about you,i am Lana,come in,come in" you didn't had much time to process because she was pushing your hand gently inside,your eyes widening as you took in the house with your eyes,it was for sure bringing vibes of a cozy,modern place.

you didn't want to be in your normal pissy mood for the reason that she was treating you politely for now,so you made a small comment "wow,the decoration is really nice"

"oh thank you,i want you to be comfortable and feel welcomed here,you can go check the guest room that will be your own,is down the hall,if you need any help just call out my name" you nodded a little and began making your way towards the apparently new space you will probably spend most of the day at.

but,without realizing a sudden unrecognized human figure appeared in front of you while making it's way to another room,making you leave a small yelp from your lips "who are you?"

the blye eyed boy raised an eyebrow once he heard the question,letting a sarcastic laugh as he spoke "very ironic for someone to ask when they are the one in my house" oh? well he had sure attitude for the few seconds you had met him. you were about to say something in response even so he continued, a sheepish grin forming on his lips when he examined your presence through his dark eyelashes "wait..you must be my stepsister"

"huh?" was the only word you could express,you were incredibly confused--who was he? "i am Lana's son, Matt,no one informed you about me?" it was like he was able to read your thoughts,it only creeped you out more.

"no..my father must forgot to announce your existence to me" the words snarked out of your tongue as you were trying hard to act sassy,but for a disguise,cause shit the more you were observeting him the more perfect he got.

he had the necessary amount of beard to sense in case he ever trailed kisses down your body,his blue orbs seemed like they could stare deep into your soul yet in a enjoyable way,and hell those fingers were too distracting for no reason,especially with those silver rings that were practically begging for attention.just any of his facial features were ideal--however you weren't supposed to fall for him,it would be wrong.

you snapped out of your thoughts when there was a sound of a familiar voice snapping across the end of the hall,approaching the both of you excitedly,even though she was addresing specifically to you "i see you guys met,sorry darlin' i forgot to have a quick chat with you about that i have a kid..anyway he may be a pain sometimes but i am sure you will get along well with him"

--------------------------------

two weeks have passed,and she was completely wrong.every day the urge of smashing a bottle on top of his head is only increasing,he would suddenly barg into your bedroom searching for his own belongings,asserting that he often lost things by accident since he is being here from time to time--why? his set-up pc is on your area for years now.

despite that,his own bedroom is just a few steps away from yours,you have been struggling with sleeping peacefully cause he would blast music on his speaker at 2-3 am,you are almost confirmed that he must be doing it on purpose--and it doesn't end here,there is worse.

you are aware of a guy having 'needs' so the occasional echo of moaning could be heard to you from the thin paper walls,you swear that it's music to your ears and you feel like your mind is sabotaging you.he is annoying,that though didn't stopped you from having a weird desire rising in you for him,a pang on your chest with guilt for possessing the most unholy fantasizes whenever he would roam around in just a pair of sweatpants.

with all this being said,you produced a baffling bond with Matt,signs showing that he is on the same page as you,which leads you to today.laying down on your bed with your phone on your hands,stressfully ignoring his presence a few meters away.him entirely concentrated on his screen computer playing--God knows what--video games,with the controller on his hands.the silense more than unbearable.

you were determined to prove to yourself that maybe you can spend some time with him,you took advantage of him not wearing any headphones and lightly tapped his shoulder,pointing towards the black console afterwards "can i try?" you anticipated for his response,silently hoping that he doesn't mind.

Matt was kind of surpised by your request,nevertheless he had finished the round so he nodded "umh..sure" he slid off from the gaming chair while handing you the controller,your fingers barely brushing with his yet enough to make your head spinning.

you rested your body on the mesh fabric as he sat on the bed,and with a glance of the buttons you were clueless of the task in hand,not having any idea on how to participate in the online game.luckily,he noticed the confused look written on your face so he came next to you and started to make a fast learning lesson,

he taught you how to jump,how to run,how to kill,and other features you require to have in case of a proper match.as he did so,you caught him taking a few glimpses of your chest--it's not like he could help it,your crop top was exposing a certain amount of your cleavage,making it hard for him to focus.

a devilish smile curled to your face when you noticed,feeling bold enough to adjust down the shirt such as leaving only your breasts covered--matt could feel his heart beat raising,the temperature of the room turning thick once he stopped talking.

"can you show me how to jump again? i don't think i get it" you spoke,a hint of suggestiveness leaking from your tone--and he didn't want more than just to devour you right there, your father and his mother had left for shopping,so you were both totally alone which sent shivers down your back,

the tension bloomed into a insufferable feeling between the two of you,causing your breath to hitch around your throat,especially when you felt his fingers starting to touch yours fully in attempt to answer your previous 'request'.a hushed gasp breaking out from you when there was a unexpected hand gesture tracing your thigh in a agonizingly pace--screw this.

with a smooth shift of your face and waist you palmed his cheeks,bringing his lips to yours into a fiery dance.he didn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth,impatiently exploring your taste before nipping down your bottom lip,eliciting a moan from you that get's shallowed against him,

the sound you made vibrated through matt's whole body,landing directly straight to his core and he could feel his jeans growing tight around his crotch,he didn't ever remembered himself getting hard from just a making out session--he craved more,he needed more,and so did you.

his hands started travelling their way to your stomach,crawling upwards until he squeezed your nipples over the fabric of your top and reaching to lift it up, "is this okay?" you nodded desperately at the question,he didn't wasted time by taking it off over your head,unclasping with one motion your bra afterwards to shower your bare chest with open-mouthed kisses,

your hums of approval soon turned into whimpers when he wrapped his mouth on the flesh of your left breast,swirling his tongue around it while his hand pinched the other between his free fingers,he repeated his actions by giving the same treatment to your right one after.

with a loud pop he pulled away,slowly reaching under the gaming chair so he is on his knees,his eye pupils half-lidded and fluttering over your face before he yanks off your shorts with panties,exposing your already wet dripping pussy to his hungry gaze,

"fuck you are soaked,how long have you been dreaming this? have you been waiting for me to finally pleasure you sweetheart?" you could him mutter cooing through gritted teeth,licking at your thighs in a intractable speed as he itches towards the arching spot in between your legs,lavishing his attention there as he made a long stripe up on your clit,making you buck your hips against his face shamelessly,

your nails found his hair,gripping and tugging on it for support,dragging a hiss from his mouth as he began to lap on your juices like you were his last meal,you started riding his face while whining pathetically,the obsence resounds filling the room as he continued to satisfy you.

his index finger rubbed your entrance,letting you shaking for more and barely hearing his gagged whispers "you taste so fucking amazing,such an intoxicating cunt",your lower abdomen started quivering into the familiar knot,reminding you of your approaching release,making you clench uncontrollably around his mouth,

"come on,finish all over face baby" matt sneered out when he sucked on robs of your pre-cum, your lips forming a perfect 'o' shape in the same time you swirled your digits on his roots so his head is forced to be still there,with a long pornographic moan you erupted,spurting thick,white jets that made your legs glistening.

after pulling away he swooped you into his arms,carrying you bridal-style on the mattress of the bed,him laying down firstly before grasping your sides stronly,helping you to be on top of him as he guided your hips so you can push against his clothed erection,the sensation maddening for the both of you.

your still sensitive heat grinded back and forth,feeling his cock poking under you so your hands progress to tug the zipper of his jeans down,sliding them down along with his boxers to his ankles in a way of exposing his throbbing tip,you usually didn't liked how dicks looked but matt's was different; a needy tenderness to have it deep inside you,he adjusted with ease the head down your folds,and with no doubt you sinked down on his length.

a unbidden squeal slipped from you as he grunted repeatedly,his grunts turned into loud groans of pure filthiness as soon as you started bouncing yourself,your tight walls squelching him, sending him closer to the edge even though it hadn't passed a minute of you riding him,his back arching forward which gave you the opportunity of scratching down the skin of his behind shoulders,

"such a good girl,fucking yourself on your stepbrother's cock, such a whore f'me" his words actually made you feel pitiful yet encouraging your movements to speed up their pace,his hips thrusting up to meet yours so he can pound into your hole frequently, "c-close" you panted out,your second orgasm increasing through you as your walls clinged around him,the actions driving matt insane "going to fill you up,do you want that? do you want me to cum inside you?"

you miserably sobbed in bliss and let a ''hphm'' of approval,before you knew it matt had busted,his climax exploding extremely hard into your pussy,following suit after him with your head throwed back and stopping after a minute so you can pull yourself out of him,both of you being a panting mess,

"that was incredible" "i am never letting you to even enter my room again"

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evelyn speaks!! thank you so much for 250 followers jixijcmjg,my last post with Matt got more than 800 notes likeee insane,thank you ALL for the support it means everything xoxo🤍🤍

tags! @writtensturn @pixiespax @verywonderlandpolice @itsnotmariahh @user9383738392 @monroesturnns @badussybumper @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @shadowthesim

[exaltedfuzz]

What are your thoughts about Gant? Like, his motivations, as a characters, how much of what he does is premeditated/intentionally manipulative?

I really enjoy Gant. He's a fascinating character to me, and there's so much to say on him. I find it hard to describe him, because he's so disingenuous in how he presents himself. It's not that clear if he really means anything he says. But let's try and tackle this...

His motivations. He's self-serving. He says it outright. ("There are only three people I look out for: Me, Myself and I." - Gant)

I think this is being said slightly defensively, but it does hold up. When he kills Neil, it's to cinch the Darke case, but that can't be it. I don't remember if a concrete motive is ever given in game. I need to replay the case. However, I think this unknowable aspect to him is one thing that makes him terrifying. Beneath that jovial charisma, we know he's making Lana's life miserable. ("[withdrawing] was the only way I could make it through the past two years." - Lana) By the time we see her in RFTA, she's at the point where she's what amounts to being at least passively suicidal.

Obviously, she confesses to Bruce's murder to protect Ema through shouldering Gant's crime for him, but I can't help but feel like there's more to it than that. I think she's been incredibly worn down, overworked, and had her personal life and relationships purposefully eroded by him. Gant does whatever is convenient, and he's incredibly comfortable doing so. He outright tells Lana that he killed Bruce, without any idea that she'd tell anyone anything about it. The reason he gets caught in the end is because of her daring to tell Jake, and the whole stunt Jake pulled in the evidence room, iirc. The fact that he doesn't even consider the possibility that Lana would seek assistance kind of says a lot about what he's grown to expect from her.

I think "the legendary duo" as an idea is a crazy power imbalance. A young woman, presumably a very new detective, 24-27, and the deputy chief of police, a man in his 60s with an insane amount of power. Factoring in Lana's own circumstances, being Ema's only caretaker, and constantly falling into being the more mature one in anything interpersonal (Angel says she was always looking out for the other detectives, and that Jake couldn't have ever recovered from Neil's death without Lana's support.) it must have been nice for her to have a partnership where she was the one learning. She says that Gant "was everything [she] aspired to be", and Angel says that Lana hated anything corrupt. (I'm taking Angel's words at face value here, because Angel is shown to be very resentful towards Lana, and not likely to be giving her undue praise.) So, Lana had no idea about the kind of man he really is.

I think, therefore, that his decision to use Lana was very thought out. He knows full well that she respects him, admires his work, but more importantly, that she's nice. She's a character who seems to me like a little bit of a people pleaser. When you look at how all the characters describe what she was like, it's often about what she'd do for other people, and she comes off as being a little naive, maybe. Too private, and too passive.

I think Gant, working closely with her, and being the observant person he is, would pick up on this easily. He knows that Lana shuts up and gets on with it, but also that she's honest and earnest, and she'd need a tipping point to be able to be scared enough to be useful in furthering his career and his ego. So, at the first opportunity he has to make her sweat, when she's blinded by being terrified over whether Ema will be ok, he takes full advantage.

He also would have likely been her friend. So he'd have known she went to law school, and that she was the best. (She seems keen to brag, even in the circumstances at the start of RFTA, so I imagine she'd have been a little smug under normal circumstances). I think her earnestness that we see coming through near the end of the case, when she starts using that leaning forward sprite, would have led to her probably sharing a lot of personal things, which Gant would obviously keep in mind just in case there was ever an opportunity to use this information to his advantage.

Outside of Lana, though, he seems to be a good judge of character. In who he chooses to demote and fire, he fires Angel. He knows that Angel is the "cough-up-queen" (I found out that the Japanese version is "vomit-covered-okyou". Strange.) and that if she's ever on the same case, or in the same workspace as Prosecutor Skye, she'll break her and ruin everything. So Angel is out. She's wily enough to weasel her way back into their proximity, though, using everything she knows she can use as leverage. Jake, as well, isn't outwardly as confrontational as Angel, and he wants him tethered to the place his brother was murdered in, as a sort of reminder that they "found his killer", and he "has justice", I suppose? Maybe so that Jake never has the chance to take a step back from it all and evaluate. Of course, he doesn't factor in Jake and Angel having a relationship outside of office hours, and this enduring friendship giving Jake that chance... Which, actually seems to be a theme with him. I think he probably is a quite lonely man, and doesn't account for people having relationships more complex than coworkers. Maybe because he just doesn't care about anyone else.

I think very little of what he does is excessively premeditated, and everything is in his follow-through. Killing Neil seems entirely opportunistic, and killing Bruce, similarly, was done spur of the moment. I think he works within the framework of believing he knows exactly what pieces he has to play with. He knows how to terrify everyone around him - he puts Jake on the crime scene as a sort of "look what happens", and I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to think that he knew he'd be making Lana fear for her own life by casually telling her to dispose of the body of a coworker she was likely quite close to. He seems very aware of the bargaining chips that he has re:each person. Which makes it interesting that he doesn't care much about Angel, actually! I figure this is because she's a much more canny person, and he knows he'd never be able to shake her, so it's best to just have her out of the way.

I think an interesting line is the bit where the Judge says that he's not the man that he used to know.

Either Gant has always been corrupt, and incredible at keeping himself guarded, as we do see him to be in game, or he really was a good guy. Maybe he saw himself in the earnest, good natured Detective Skye, and the natural progression, therefore, was that she'd become just as corrupt as him. He doesn't factor in her empathy, though. He knows he's terrifying her by getting her to dispose of Bruce, but he doesn't care that her being terrified leads to her making awful body-disposing decisions. She leaves Bruce in the place he put him, she leaves the real weapon at the crime scene, she's witnessed, photographed, and she cuts open her hand. I don't think this was his intention, to frame her. I mean, clearly, Edgeworth was the intended target of the framing, but Lana messed everything up enough to give him a brand new scapegoat. He wouldn't want to dispose of the person who puts the prosecutors office in his pocket, but I think this incident really tanks her value to him in his eyes. He believes he can count on her to do anything, but she has entirely failed this task, so she might just become a liability for anything in future. I think Lana knows this too, which is why she doesn't have any fight in her.

When Lana is free from Gant, she, of course, has her smiling sprite. (My favourite.) But it's not just her being happy, it's her being actually free. She says so. ("A long time since I've felt free of these heavy chains"). Because I draw her so much, I've looked at her sprites a lot, and her smiley one really gets me. It's got the "can't stop smiling" feel to it, with how her eyebrows are held, and how her eyes crinkle. When you look at her normal sprites, she's either got a thousand yard stare or she looks terrified. The judge even asks if she thinks something is amusing, because she's just grinning. It's just cathartic. She's giddy. Usually she's acting out of a (misguided, and slightly self serving) desire to protect Ema, but knowing Gant isn't going to be a presence in her life anymore seems to not just delight her for Ema's sake, but also because she, herself, isn't in the middle of this anymore, and it seems like being happy for herself is something unusual enough for her that it just makes her soft. As well, her hands are in front of her now. So she's not having to hide the blood on them anymore. Anyway. I really like Lana's sprites. This isn't supposed to be about her.

I went on a bit, and I'm sure I repeated myself somewhere, but those are some of my Gant thoughts. He's really interesting to me. Especially the way he interacts with the other characters. Bear in mind this is being written a fair few months after playing RFTA one time...

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: I know it's been a while; been dealing with some health issues and uni work. I shared a teaser of chapter 16, which I actually had to split into two chapters because it reached 20k words and that's just ridiculous for me personally lol. Hope you enjoy <3

CW/TW: Slight angst, mild mention of violence

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

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@electronicwitchsandwich

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

Roman’s couch was far too soft for a mind that wouldn’t stop racing.

It wasn’t surprising that Nate couldn’t sleep, even though it had just passed 2am. Her leather jacket was bunched up at her lower back, some kind of feeble attempt at some comfort. But the ache of her body was too much, and her thoughts were circling like vultures around death as she stared at the screen of her phone, aimlessly swiping between apps and trying to lose herself in the virtual world. 

Everything felt… off. Unreal. It was like she was trapped in some kind of dream—the kind in which no matter how hard you try and wake yourself up, no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just a dream, you’re stuck in it. It’s real. And it’s not going away.

Katya: Alexei and Boris are staying at the house tonight. And I don’t know why, nobody will tell me anything.

Nate frowned, her thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. Alexei and Boris weren’t just hanging around for fun—they only showed up together at the house for either alcohol, or business. Either way, it meant something was happening; normally, Nate would be informed about meetings or visits, business endeavours… But the fact that she wasn’t this time, it didn’t sit right.

Katya: Where are u anyway??

With a sigh, she typed out a response.

Nate: Lana’s

Nate: And that’s weird. You didn’t overhear anything or…

Katya: No. It was all very… weird. They didn’t even see me standing there. They went into dad’s office.

Nate: Right… 

Nate: Lock your door and get some sleep if you can. If anything seems off or if you hear something, call me.

Nate: I mean it, you call me if something happens.

Nate: Promise me.

Katya: Ok

Katya: Nate, you’re my best friend, aside from my sister.

Katya: There’s nobody else I would call.

Katya: ily 🩷

Nate: Love you too x

A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach, but there wasn’t much she could do from here. Whatever was going on at the house, it would have to wait until she got back. She had business to take care of before then. And as guilty as it made Nate feel for lying to her sister about her whereabouts, she had to keep reminding herself that it was for Katya. For her future. Both of their futures. A dangerous life with dangerously high stakes had to be neutralised before chaos struck. Because once chaos strikes, one only has a certain amount of time before a complete implosion.

And chaos had, indeed, struck.

Switching over to her conversation thread with Boris, she thought about texting him to ask what was going on, but as soon as she opened the chat, her eyes were drawn to the unopened image attachment at the top of the screen.

Bloody hell, what now?

The second the photo loaded on her screen, she had the impulse to fling her phone to the other side of the room, far away from her eyes. A grotesque image of Boris in front of a mirror, flexing, his pale skin bare of any clothing. Completely nude. She groaned audibly, her face scrunching in disgust.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, immediately closing the chat and tossing her phone beside her. Of all the things she didn’t need to deal with right now, Boris and his misguided attempts at seduction were at the top of the list.

“I brought you a blanket.”

Nate turned around quickly to see Naomi standing in the doorway, holding a blanket in her arms. Tentative, as if she wasn’t sure how Nate would react to her showing up in the middle of the night. Everyone made the executive decision to stay at Roman’s house that night, considering the meet up occurring the day after. And for a minute, Nate forgot where she was exactly—a place she really shouldn’t be.

“Oh,” she exhaled, calming her nerves. “Uh, thanks.”

Naomi offered a small smile and walked over, holding the blanket out to Nate. “I figured you didn’t have anything with you… the big guy ain’t exactly stocked up on guest amenities.”

Nate couldn’t help but snort at that, taking the blanket and setting it in her lap. “Yeah, I noticed”

Lingering for a moment, Naomi shifted on her feet. “Mind if I sit?”

“Sure, whatever,” Nate shrugged, leaning back into the couch as Naomi sat next to her, tucking one leg under the other and glancing around the room before her gaze settled on Nate again.

“I, uh…” she started softly. “I just wanted to apologise about the whole engagement party thing. I didn’t mean for it to… well, I don’t want you to think I was there to start anything. I wasn’t spying or nothin’.”

Nate tilted her head slightly, her tired eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You weren’t?”

“No, not really. I mean, Roman asked me to be there, yeah, but I wasn’t tryna make trouble. I was just… watching, I guess. I don’t want you to think I, like… have it out for you or anything.”

Nate studied Naomi’s face for a moment, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but she found none. She seemed genuine, even back at the party. It was a strange contrast to the tension Nate usually felt in the presence of Roman’s inner circle.

“Okay,” Nate cautiously accepted. “Then what exactly were you doing there?”

Sighing, Naomi pulled her hands into her lap and played with the edges of her robe sleeves. “Honestly, just tryna keep an eye on things. I know how the big guy can be… how intense he can get. I think he’s just worried about… you bein’ around—about whether or not he can trust you. And I guess he thought I could give him some perspective. But I wasn’t there to judge you.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, her scepticism still evident, but she nodded slowly. “Right…”

“Look, I get why you’d be pissed about it. Hell, I’d be too. But for what it’s worth… I don’t see you as a threat. I don’t know the full story, but my ass has been around enough Roman Reignses in my life to know when someone’s got potential.”

“Potential for what?” Nate huffed through a low, humourless laugh.

“To be somebody Roman trusts,” Naomi said simply. “That ain’t something he gives lightly, y’know? But I think he sees something in you. He wouldn’t have let you stick around this long if he didn’t!”

The comment caught Nate off-guard, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Roman’s trust wasn’t something she’d ever considered herself earning at any point during any of this. And to be frank, he’d be wise to share that sentiment. Nate didn’t exactly trust easily either.

“I’m not really looking to be Roman’s most trusted ally here,” she muttered, trying to deflect.

“I know,” Naomi nodded. “Doesn’t mean it ain’t happening, though.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment as Nate pondered the words. Still unconvinced that Roman Reigns trusting her was on the horizon, in any universe. 

“I think you’re handling everything pretty well. Given that the boys are a bunch of barnyard animals.”

Nate scoffed, shaking her head. “If this is me handling things well, I’d hate to see what a disaster looks like.”

Naomi chuckled quietly. “Girl, you’re doing just fine.”

Nate let out a deep breath, feeling a little of the tension ease out of her shoulders. She wasn’t sure she believed Naomi, but it was nice to hear something other than suspicion for once. 

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, keeping her voice subdued.

Naomi smiled and gave her a small nod, standing up from the couch and stretching out her arms. “Well, I should let you get some rest. It’s been a long ass day.”

“Yeah,” Nate quietly agreed, watching out of her peripherals as Naomi took a step towards the door, paused, and glanced back at her.

“If you need anything whenever you’re here… just let me know, okay?”

Nate finally broke out a tiny smile. “Will do.”

With that, Naomi left the room, leaving Nate alone again in the quiet darkness.

On the plus side, Nate managed a fitful hour and a half of sleep before she jolted awake, her body stiff from the awkward position she’d fallen into on the couch. The blanket Naomi had brought her was tangled around her legs, offering little comfort. With an irritated sigh, she pushed it off and sat up, her head heavy, and the room thick with early-morning silence.

3:45am. She groaned as she read the time on her phone, running a hand through her hair. Honestly, she could have just gotten up and driven back to Tribeca, or to Lana’s place. Could have. But she didn’t. She put up with the discomfort of sleeping in Roman Reigns’ house, on the couch. God, if Dimitri could see her right now… No, she didn’t even want to entertain that possibility. 

Suddenly, the soft creak of footsteps caught her attention. Her eyes snapped toward the direction of the stairs, narrowing slightly as a dark figure emerged.

Roman.

In this low lighting, he looked even more imposing—which she didn’t think could be possible—with his black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and the fitted T-shirt stretched across his chest. It was clear he hadn’t exactly been asleep either.

Roman crossed the room without acknowledging her at first, his focus entirely on the bar in the corner. He wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet as he methodically poured himself a glass of whiskey with a slightly clumsy exterior. Something about his demeanour screamed stress, despite the carefully controlled facade he always maintained. The whiskey sloshed in the glass, the sound crisp in the otherwise silent space.

She watched him for a moment, wondering what the hell had brought him downstairs at this hour. Was he still riled up from earlier? Was something else gnawing at him? Nate didn’t have the energy to ask, but she couldn’t help but feel unnerved by it. Especially when he turned, one drink in each hand, and headed toward the couch—the couch she was on.

Instead of choosing any of the empty chairs scattered around the room, Roman sat down at the opposite end of the couch from her, his broad frame taking up more space than necessary. The leather creaked under his weight, and Nate tensed slightly, unsure of why he’d chosen to sit so close. She had expected him to stay aloof, maybe ignore her entirely like he just did moments ago. But here he was, settling in, clearly not in a hurry to go back to where he’d come from.

He held out one of the glasses in her direction, and she hesitated. Eyed the drink suspiciously.

“You look like you need it,” Roman muttered, his tone edged with something almost… defeated?

Nate blinked, caught off-guard. Roman wasn’t exactly the sympathetic type from what she’d witnessed, especially not with her, and the offer made her brow arch in confusion. Nevertheless, she took the glass from him, her fingers brushing the cold condensation, but she didn’t drink it. Instead, she just stared at it, trying to piece together what was going on in his head.

They sat in silence for a long, drawn-out moment. She took little intervals to glance over at him, the sharp lines of his profile barely softened by the modest light. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles tight around his own glass as he took a slow sip.

It was strange—seeing him like this. Roman was always so controlled, always in charge, but right now… something was off.

Nate wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the weariness etched into his face, but the usual tension between them felt muted, replaced by something entirely different. Heavier. It was almost like Roman was trying to drown himself in nothingness, the drink in his hand a poor substitute for whatever was really bothering him.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Who’s your contact?”

She snapped her head toward him, furrowing her eyebrows. “If I told you, you’d just have another thing to be mad at me for.”

Immediately, she regretted the sharpness of her tone. Her irritation, the bone-deep exhaustion, everything was making her more short-tempered than usual. She sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice softer this time. “I didn’t mean to… I’m just tired.”

Roman didn’t react to her apology, didn’t even flinch at the attitude—she was sure he had become accustomed to, or at the very least expectant of, her disposition by now. 

He simply took another drink, staring off into the distance, as if her words didn’t even register. She studied him carefully now, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the subtle slump in his usually rigid posture. It was clear—whatever had him in this state wasn’t about her.

The sight of him in this light, in this position at 4am… it stirred something in her. Roman was always so invincible, so unbreakable. Witnessing him this drained, this… human, pulled at her in a way she hadn’t expected.

She sighed again, this time not out of frustration, but pity. “Becky Lynch,” she said quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the glass. “That’s my contact.”

Roman finally turned to look at her, his brows narrowing. “Aiden’s daughter?”

Nate nodded, watching his expression closely. She could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out why she, of all people, would be reaching out to someone deep in the bloodline of the very people she’s trying to catch out, fully knowing that there was a low chance of her actually being truthful. Roman wasn’t the type to ask for clarification outright, but the question was written all over his face. Why Becky Lynch?

Her exhausted eyes met his. “There’s literally nobody else,” she said, barely above a whisper. “No information anywhere that you can find that’ll be more helpful, more valuable than what comes from Becky. She also…” she paused for a second, “never really had a great relationship with her dad, so…”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger. It was recognition. Maybe. He leaned back slightly, giving her a once over in that quiet, calculating manner he always had.

“So,” he murmured. “A bit like you then.”

Her heart gave an unexpected jolt, and for a moment, the silence between them felt more intimate, more charged than before. Roman wasn’t asking for more information, wasn’t pushing her for answers. He was simply… acknowledging something. Something they both understood but never talked about.

Nate leaned back into the couch, finally taking a sip of the whiskey Roman had handed her. It burned as it slid down her throat, and she grimaced slightly, setting the glass on the small table beside the couch. Her eyes drifted back to him, noticing how he hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything since his last comment. He just sat there, staring off into nothing.

It wasn’t hard to see that Roman’s mood had been exceptionally dark and volatile since she’d arrived—snapping at anyone and everyone who came near him. Whatever he was going through now was the comedown, the aftermath of exerting so much energy into being angry. Drained, like whatever had been pushing him to that edge had finally started to wear him down. 

And for some reason, it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

“So…” Nate started, crossing her arms and leaning forward, studying his expression. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you? Or are we just gonna sit here pretending that everything’s fine when you’ve been in a mood foul enough to scare off half your family?”

Roman’s eyes flitted in her direction, wordlessly contemplating whether or not to even bother with her question. She couldn’t blame him. Asking Roman to open up was probably more like trying to pry a locked door open with your bare hands—frustrating and usually pointless.

“I mean,” she continued, her tone more defensive, “It’s not because I care or anything. I just need you to be at one hundred percent. We need to figure out who’s responsible for the shipment. And whoever killed Priest isn’t gonna wait around while you throw temper tantrums.”

Nate expected him to snap back at her, to say something biting, but he just stared down at the whiskey in his glass, swirling the amber liquid around in slow, measured circles. The silence dragged on again, and she was starting to think he was going to ignore her completely when he finally spoke.

“I’m havin’... ex-wife issues,” Roman muttered, the words coming out like they’d been dragged from the back of his throat.

That was… unexpected. Nate raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Ex-wife issues? The words didn’t even sound like they belonged in the same sentence as Roman Reigns. He seemed too… detached for something like that.

“You? Married?” she asked, her tone laced with playful disbelief, though she didn’t push too hard. “Now that’s a twist. Never pegged you for the type.”

Roman let out a dry, humourless chuckle, still not looking directly at her. “Yeah, me neither. I try not to regret it. But it’s hard not to when you’re dealin’ with… shit like this.”

Nate couldn’t help but smirk, though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “Well, exes can be psychotic sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, this ex has filed a whole ass custody petition for our daughter,” Roman said, the words slipping out before he had a chance to catch them.

Nate blinked. And then blinked again.

Roman… had a daughter?

That was a hell of a thing to drop in the middle of the night like that.

“I didn’t realise you had a daughter,” she said softly, not teasing this time, just genuinely taken aback.

Roman finally looked at her, albeit with a mix of exhaustion and something else—maybe irritation, maybe resignation. “Yeah, well, you ain’t exactly someone I like to talk to.”

Void of venom, his words were just a blunt truth that Nate couldn’t argue with. They weren’t close, they weren’t even civil a majority of the time; why would they sit around and swap personal stories? 

She pursed her lips, an unexpected pang of empathy arising. She knew what it was like to have family issues drag you through the mud, even if her circumstances were different. “I’m sorry,” she said, surprising even herself with the sincerity of the words. She wasn’t one to apologise much, especially not to someone like Roman.

Roman’s jaw tightened, but after a beat, he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the tension. “Nah. That was outta line. You didn’t deserve that.”

Nate chewed at the drying skin on her lower lip, shifting uncomfortably—not because of Roman, but because of the realisation that she actually… cared. About Roman’s situation. About how all of this was clearly affecting him more than he was letting on.

“I take it she’s causing trouble,” she said just above a whisper, looking down at her lap. 

Roman huffed, leaning back and rubbing a hand across his jaw. “You could say that. Maria’s always been a problem. Thought I was done with her shit when we split, just had to deal with her when it was in Ava’s best interest. But… custody battles? That’s a whole different level of bullshit I ain’t ready for.”

“So, what does she want? Money?”

He shook his head, staring off into the distance again. “Nah, it ain’t about that. I think she just… wants control. Wants to prove I’m not a good father. That I’m too tied up in all this for shared custody.”

“I didn’t even know you had a kid,” she hummed, more to herself than to him. The thought of Roman’s stress being split between the business, the shipment, and the threat of losing his daughter to an ex-wife he clearly didn’t see eye-to-eye with—made her stomach twist a little. “Guess it makes sense, though. Why wouldn’t you want to keep that part of your life… separate?”

Roman’s gaze softened, just for a moment. “Yeah. You get it, right? Gotta protect what matters.”

Nate nodded slowly. She did understand. More than he knew. But there was no way she was going to spill her soul out to him. Even if he’d started to peel back a thin layer himself.

“Exes can be a real pain in the arse,” she said, her voice a little lighter now. “But it sounds like she’s going for the jugular with this one. Custody petitions? That’s not just a fight; that’s war.”

He let out a low grunt, tipping his head back and downing the rest of his whiskey in one smooth motion. “Yeah. And she ain’t exactly playin’ fair.”

With a small, almost menacing chuckle, she rested her arm on the back of the couch, leaning her head on her hand. “Well… it’s a good thing you don’t play fair either.”

That earned her a ghost of a smirk from Roman. “Damn straight.”

For the first time, the tension between them had eased enough that the conversation felt almost… normal. Almost.

Nate reached back to pick up her own glass, the burn of whiskey less harsh when she took another sip. “You gonna be alright with all this?”

Roman didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the empty glass in his hand. Contortions on his face mirrored his thoughts; twisted and sharp. “Yeah. I’ll handle it. Always do.”

She nodded, though a part of her wondered how much longer he could keep handling everything on his own without something giving way. But that wasn’t her problem to fix.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The car slowed to a halt a couple of blocks from their destination, a gritty, rundown coffee shop on the corner of Houston Street and Essex in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. It was one of those places that had clearly seen better days—faded signage, chipped paint, and a few patrons who looked like they’d been sitting in the same seats for years. The kind of joint where no one asked questions and fewer paid attention. Perfect for a low-key meeting.

Nate shuffled awkwardly in the backseat, casting a sidelong glance at Tamina, who was silently checking over the small wire she was about to strap to Nate. Roman sat in the passenger seat, one hand draped lazily over the console while his gaze was fixed out the window, unreadable as usual. Paul was behind the wheel, ever the silent observer, but as always, his presence loomed large.

“I still don’t get why this is necessary,” Nate muttered under her breath in mild annoyance. “I could just tell you what Becky says afterwards.”

Roman responded with a small quirk of his mouth that suggested he was enjoying her discomfort far more than he should be. Tamina, on the other hand, was all business.

“You know the deal,” she said firmly, but not entirely unkind as she clipped the wire to Nate’s jacket. “We don’t trust anyone’s word, especially not when we don’t know them too well. We need to hear it in real-time.”

Nate rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. It was pointless. Ever since she agreed to work with Roman, nothing had been straightforward, and they’d had her under more scrutiny than her father as of late. It came with strings, thick ones, and this was just one of them. If she was to talk to someone, it would be documented. Period. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she sighed, glancing down at the wire now attached to the inside of her jacket. “But what, you think I’ll just forget a key detail? I’m not exactly an amateur with this kinda stuff.”

Roman’s low chuckle filled the car, breaking the quiet tension. “This ain’t about you being an amateur. It’s about making sure there ain’t any surprises. And trust me,” he added, his tone dripping with that familiar arrogant charm, “This’ll help you way more than you think. You’d rather us hear it now than grill you later, right?”

She shot him a look, unimpressed but also knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong. He had a way of bending the truth just enough to make it sound like he was doing her a favour. Typical Roman. She huffed, leaning back against the seat.

“I still don’t think it’s necessary.”

The smirk on his face grew slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You’ll get over it.”

Tamina finished adjusting the wire and sat back, satisfied with her work. She gave Nate a nod, signalling she was good to go. Paul shifted in the driver’s seat, speaking up for the first time since they’d gotten there.

“So,” he began, “Ms. Volkov. Where does your father think you are?”

Nate paused, her hand brushing over her leather-clad arm, smoothing out any folds. “A friend’s house,” she replied with a shrug, so nonchalantly.

“And that friend will back you up? Be your alibi?” Roman asked.

“Yep.” Nate didn’t look at him when she answered, her focus instead on the street outside. The wind moved the few sparse trees, a gust here and there, and she had a moment to breathe in the quiet before the meeting.

However, Roman wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her properly from the front seat. “You’re sure?”

Nate snapped her head to him, a flash of agitation sparking in her eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Roman, yes. I’ve done this before, my friend will back me up.”

He raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze for a beat longer before giving a slight nod. Tamina and Paul exchanged glances, their silent communication not lost on Nate. But before anyone could push further, Roman waved his hand dismissively. “Fine. I’m just making sure you don’t fuck this up.”

Nate rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to shield the little smirk on her face. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be.”

With everything set, Tamina gave Nate one last lok, almost a silent check to see if she was truly ready. Nate exhaled, her confidence steady, and nodded.

“Alright,” Tamina said. “You’re good to go. Just keep it cool, Zayn and the twins are a few blocks down in case anythin’ goes wrong.”

The younger woman gave her a quick hum of understanding before she opened the door and stepped out of the car. The midday sun was still muted, casting long shadows across the pavement. The streets were busier now, people going about their day unaware of the underworld dealings happening just a few feet away. Nate glanced back at the car for a moment, catching Roman’s gaze through the tinted window. He watched her like a hawk, and though she couldn’t see his expression fully, she could most definitely feel the weight of his eyes tracking her every move.

The silence stretched for a minute or so as Roman watched Nate walk away, disappearing and blending into the small spurts of people along the sidewalk. Paul cleared his throat, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel.

“She didn’t want to wear the wire, boss,” he commented cautiously, as if he were testing the waters.

Roman leaned back in his seat, his eyes still on the direction Nate had gone. “Yeah. I know.”

Tamina turned in her seat, her sharp cat-eyed gaze landing on Roman. “You think she’ll leave it on?”

With a slow exhale, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face hardened, the lines of mild wisdom and fatigue strengthening in his expression. “I don’t know. But I guess we’re about to find out if our… Euro-Asian ally can really be trusted,” he muttered.

Nate had on her game face as she approached the small café where she was set to meet Becky, her pacing in line with the other pedestrians. Scanning every detail of her surroundings without looking like she was; she was experienced—did this more times than she could count—but this time felt a little more… personal. The last time she’d seen Becky, tensions had been at an all-time high, and the years of silence between them hadn’t dulled the edge of that old bitterness. If anything, it made the situation more volatile. 

As she neared the entrance, she stopped for a second, adjusting her jacket just enough to make sure the wire stayed hidden. She ran her hands over her hair in an attempt to look more presentable, catching sight of unmistakable red hair from inside, standing out like a flare in the low light of the dim interior.

The bell on the door tinkled softly as she stepped inside. It was quiet, save for a few patrons scattered across the room, either lost in their laptops or deep in conversation. Nate clocked every exit, took note of where people were seated, and scanned the staff in the unlikely case that one of them was a plant. Old habits.

Becky didn’t look up immediately. She was seated at a corner table, nursing what looked like a coffee, her posture relaxed. You could feel the tension pulled taut between them, and when their eyes finally met, there was a brief flicker of recognition—more distant than familiar. 

Nate approached cautiously, her boots making soft thuds against the hardwood floor, and took a seat across from Becky without a word.

“Long time,” Nate said, keeping her voice low and steady.

Becky smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee before resting back. “Lucky you,” she began, her voice carrying that signature Irish lilt, “That I’m even here. Thought about telling you to fuck off, but… I wanted to see you. See how much like your father you’ve become.”

It appeared as though Nate kept her composure, but her hands balled up into tight fists under the table, bristling at such an insinuation. She could tell Becky meant every word. “He doesn’t even know I’m here, so…”

Becky raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “So what, you’re goin’ behind your da’s back now?” She scoffed, clearly not buying it. “You were always the loyal one. One hundred and ten percent Volkov, through and through. What’s changed?”

Nate hesitated for only a second, quickly catching herself. “It’s complicated. And none of your business.”

“Everything’s complicated with your family,” Becky eyed her carefully, her fingers tapping idly on her cup.

There was a pause, and the insinuation of their shared history hung over the two of them like a massive, dark cloud. 

“I’m not here to talk about my dad,” Nate said, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a situation. A shipment stolen. Damian Priest, dead in the process. Bad Bunny’s compound was ambushed. Irish flag on the car. I need answers, Becky.”

The redhead across from her didn’t betray much conclusion on her face, but she did display a brief flicker of familiarity at the mention of Priest. Letting the information sink in, she lowered her gaze to the table.

After what felt like an eternity, she shrugged.

That simple gesture made Nate’s chest tighten in rage. “A shrug?” Her voice rose a little. “That’s all you’ve got for me? A fucking shrug?”

Becky met Nate’s anger with cool indifference, drinking more of her coffee before answering. “I don’t know what to tell you, Nate.”

“You can tell me why your family is still fucking with us after all this time. Because I swear to God, if this is about some old gru—”

“My family didn’t do shit.”

“Sure as hell looks like it.”

Becky’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, her icy demeanour cracked. “My family isn’t even in the States anymore.”

Nate froze, her brows knitting. “What?”

“You heard me,” Becky said, dropping her voice an octave. “We left. After what your da pulled… my father hasn’t been the same. You want to know why you haven’t heard from us? It’s because we haven’t been here. My family’s been in Ireland for years. My da’s in a fuckin’ wheelchair. And believe me, we ain’t coming back.”

This wasn’t adding up.

“No,” Nate shook her head. “You… They have to be here. None of this makes sense otherwise.”

Becky shook her head, exasperation etched all over. “After your da took over X, mine was done. He’s been out of the game since then. It’s a round-the-clock job for whoever looks after him now, there’s no fuckin’ way my family’s involved in whatever bullshit you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“My father is not to blame for that,” Nate found herself defending her dad, hating that her family was being blamed period. “He did what he had to do. If it hadn’t been him, it would’ve been someone else. That’s how this business works, Becky, you know that.”

Gaze hardening, Becky leaned forward as her voice dropped to a growl. “His moves, his ‘business’ nearly killed my dad. He had a stroke after his blood pressure got too high. You want to defend him? Fine. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch your da waste away. Good relationship, or not.” She took a deep, shaky breath, calming herself. “It would’ve been more dignified to put a bullet in his head than to let him end up like this.”

The brutal honesty of Becky’s statement momentarily stunned Nate. But she wasn’t here to dwell on the past or the people they’d lost along the way, nor was she here to play catch-up, to offer her sympathy. She had a job to do.

“Why are you here then?” she asked more curiously than accusatory. “If your family’s back home, why are you still in the States?”

“That’s none of your business.” Becky crossed her arms.

But Nate wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed the small details—the subtle changes in Becky’s appearance, the way she carried herself. Most importantly, the ring on her left hand.

“You’re married,” Nate casually commented, observing Becky’s face closely. “Congratulations.”

“Don’t make it sound like it matters to you.”

“It must be someone important if nobody can find anything about you anymore. Must have taken a lot to disappear so cleanly.”

And there it was. She had the upper hand. 

“So,” she continued insistently, “You’re telling me that whoever ambushed us, whoever killed Damian Priest, and whoever stole our shipment… it wasn’t the Irish?”

Becky met her gaze head-on, her eyes clear and resolute. “My family hasn’t returned since they were chased out. I’m the only one left because I don’t want anything to do with it anymore.”

Nate sat back, letting Becky’s words settle. For all the hostility, all the unresolved history between them, she believed her. It was in her tone. The inflictions. The way her eyes stayed confidently locked onto Nate’s as she pleaded her case. 

“I’m sorry, Nate,” Becky sighed, looking away for the first time. “I wish I had more for you, but I don’t. My family’s outta this. And so am I.”

Tensions were rising back in the SUV. How could the Irish not be involved? It was their flag, for fuck’s sake! It seemed like everytime they got closer to an answer, it was ripped out from under them. And Roman just wanted to know where his half was—where his weaponry ended up! Who the fuck would be so audacious as to fuck with The Bloodline, and the Volkovs. 

Paul leaned closer to the speakers. “What do you think, boss? You buy what Lynch is saying?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, nose flaring a little. “I don’t know yet. But Nate’s got history with her. She’ll know if it’s bullshit.”

“You trust her?” Tamina asked, raising her brows.

“I trust that she’s as desperate as we are right now. That’s good enough—for now.”

It seemed as though Nate and Becky’s conversation was coming to a close, and just as Tamina was readying the boxes that had contained the wire, Becky spoke again.

“How have you been holding up since…”

Her voice trailed off, and Roman furrowed his eyebrows. He exchanged a glance with Paul, who was equally puzzled. They didn’t know what Becky was referring to, but it was clear that whatever it was, it struck a nerve with Nate.

“Fine,” Nate’s voice responded, but even through the static, Roman could hear the lie; he’d grown used to hearing when someone was holding back on the truth.

“Lyin’ ass,” he muttered under his breath.

“Are you sure about that?” Becky pressed on, not letting Nate slip away so easily.

The pause between question and response felt like it lasted forever, and Roman picked up on the uneven rhythm of Nate’s breathing.

“Yeah,” she finally said, albeit rather flat. Clearly wanting to end this conversation. But Becky wasn’t done.

“Did you find out who did it?”

Roman shot Paul a glance. “Who did what?”

Paul shook his head, indicating he had no idea what the fuck they were talking about either.

Nate’s response was barely audible. “No.”

“You haven’t tried?” Becky asked again, her tone betraying a sense of disbelief.

“Dad tried in the beginning,” Nate admitted. “But I think it got too much for him. And now… it’s like she never even existed.”

Roman’s frown deepened. She? Whoever they were talking about, whatever they were talking about, they were way past the topic of the Irish, the shipment, and the ambush. It was personal. He tried to piece together what was going on, thinking back to the limited conversations he and Nate had shared since agreeing to work with each other. The only one that came to mind was the way her disposition switched entirely at the mention of her mother, back when they paid Bunny’s men a visit.

“Are you still trying?”

There was a long silence, causing Roman to impatiently lean forward as though it was going to drag the answer from the speakers. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling out of control, and right now, that’s exactly what this conversation was doing to him. He hated it.

Finally, there was an answer. “Yes….”

“And how’s that going?” Becky’s question felt like a final blow, digging into an old wound.

Nate let out a bitter laugh. “A load of bollocks.”

The sound of her frustration was so familiar by this point, so raw, that her accent tickled him in a way it hadn’t in the past. He smirked, despite the severity of the task at hand, mumbling, “Love how she says that shit…”

Paul raised an eyebrow at Roman’s sudden amusement but said nothing. The humour quickly faded, and Roman’s expression returned to its more guarded state.

As the conversation continued, there was a sudden long pause. The crackling of the wire grew louder, and for a moment, the car was drowned in absolute silence. Roman squinted at the speakers.

“You think the wire’s been cut?” Paul asked, looking between the speakers and Roman.

Tamina leaned forward, tense concern taking over her features. “Shit, maybe she took it off. Didn’t want us hearing the rest.”

“Nah,” Roman quickly shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that. Not after what’s already been said.”

The silence dragged on. Roman’s fingers drummed against the dashboard, his patience thinning. But then, the Irish lilt cut through the quiet with a soft sigh.

“If you get stuck, truly stuck,” she began, “Contact me. I think I know someone who might be able to help you with… all that.”

Narrowing his brows, Roman’s attention was once again fully captured.

“No guarantees, though,” Becky added cautiously. “But there’s a possibility.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tamina huffed, holding her hands up in an open gesture, as if the answer would fall into her lap.

“Take care of yourself, Nate. And please… don’t end up like Dimitri.”

The static crackled again with the sound of rustling, movement, and muffled farewells.

“The hell was that?” Tamina asked.

“The hell do I know?” Roman bit back, just as frustrated and puzzled as his cousin.

“Not exactly the intel we were looking for, but… i-it could be useful,” Paul reasoned.

Tamina glanced between Roman and Paul. “You think she’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Roman took a deep breath, “But she doesn’t like talkin’ about it. It’s personal. And I need to know everything if I’m gonna trust her.”

“Sir,” Paul cleared his throat, “Ms Lynch didn’t seem deceitful.”

“I’m not disagreeing with that, Wise Man.” He turned his head to look at his special counsel. “But the less we know about Volkov’s situation, the more at risk we are at gettin’ fucked by it.”

Heyman paused, trying to hold back the smile on his face at Roman’s mindset. He’d seen this man grow up. Knew his family for decades. He always knew that he’d be a smart, head-strong leader, just following in the footsteps of those who came before him, and to have been even a tiny part of that… It was his greatest achievement. Roman was his greatest achievement.

The sound of one of the car doors opening startled the silence that had taken over the space, and Roman’s eyes snapped over to Nate sliding back in the car, her face set on neutral—as if she hadn’t just been through a conversation that had rattled her to the core.

Roman waited until she’d closed the door and the tension simmered. “How’d it go?” he asked calmly.

Her eyes only met his for a millisecond, before settling back out the window. “It went.”

“That’s all you got?” He raised an eyebrow.

Nate sighed, leaning back. “She gave me what she could. It’s not much, but it’s more than we had before.” Even though her confidence had been shaken by the unexpected topic brought up by Becky, it was still gnawing at her just how wrong she was about the whole thing. The Irish. It wasn’t them. She was so sure of it, too. So entirely set on her theory, which she saw as anything but.

And she was wrong.

“You don’t look too convinced,” Roman probed, shooting his cousin and Paul a glance.

Nate shrugged. “Becky’s out. It’s not her or her family.”

Her nonchalance grated against Roman’s patience like nails on a chalkboard. “And this other stuff you were talkin’ about with her?” 

“It’s personal,” she answered perhaps a little too quickly. Too insistent. The two word substitution for a much harsher two word command: shut up.

Roman’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally turned back around, letting it go—for now. “Fine.”

But he’d get it out of her. One way or another.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The ride back to Roman’s house had been mostly quiet. Nate was lost in thought, processing everything that had just transpired with Becky. Roman, Paul, and Tamina sensed the shift in her mood—not like she was doing much to hide it, though.

As soon as the car stopped, Nate stepped out, honestly wanting to just get back home and go to sleep. This was supposed to be a quick meeting the day before, and it had turned into a twenty-four hour affair. It was time to head back—back to the life she’d been trying to balance alongside this chaos. She instantly moved toward the borrowed car she drove here, ready to leave, but unlike the others, Roman stayed outside.

He leaned casually against the side of the car, arms folded, watching Nate as she fished for the keys from her pocket. She stood with her back to the house, car behind her, mind anywhere else.

“So your contact was useless,” Roman said with a steady edge, as if he already knew which direction the conversation would go.

Nate glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. “She wasn’t useless.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Then you only heard what you wanted to hear. She knows someone that could help, does she not?”

The firmness in her tone halted further instigating by Roman. It wasn’t the first time she’d stood her ground with him, but this was a little more intense here. Sure, she felt she was losing control over her life. But this was the first time, in that life, that she felt she was losing control over an investigation. Such an unfamiliar feeling. Usually, her father was there, his plans guiding her actions. Usually, she’d be in control of what her role was. Now, she wasn’t sure what her role was, or if control even existed anymore.

Roman narrowed his eyes at her, reading the strain in her body, the square in her shoulders. “So what, you think this someone that Becky mentioned is gonna solve all of this?”

Nate huffed. “No. But it’s something. And right now, we don’t have a lot of ‘something,’ do we?” 

She wasn’t backing down, and he could sense it—the way he, too, was losing control. He was no longer steering things. Standing here, listening to Nate, something shifted, however. It wasn’t a power struggle, not anymore. The harsh reality hit him—she wasn’t Dimitri Volkov. Not cut from the same cloth. And part of her seemed almost relieved about that.

Roman saw it. She wasn’t just standing up to him; she was holding herself together, barely.

“Whoever she mentioned,” Nate began softly, “Might be worth having a look at.”

His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath, running his hand over his beard. He hated the idea of relying on people outside the Bloodline, of being forced to put an ounce of trust in someone he didn’t know. It was bad enough with Nate. “You’re sayin’ we should?”

“Well, it’s either that,” she jumped in bluntly, holding his gaze, “Or accept the fact we got fucked over and deal with knowing we didn’t try our hardest to get to the bottom of it.”

Roman stared at her, taking in the truth behind her words. He hated it, but she wasn’t wrong. They had been hit from all sides, and every lead had dried up before they could act. Nate was standing there, pushing him—yet there was something else in her expression. Something he hadn’t really seen in her before.

Defeat.

Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were dulled by it. Her stance, usually confident and controlled, seemed to sag ever so slightly. The misery etched in her features struck him harder than expected. Was this what he looked like earlier that morning? Did he look this… pathetic?

Nate broke the silence, her tone lighter but laced with finality. “Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

She took a step toward the car, her hand reaching for the door handle, but Roman continued.

“Ah, back to being the perfect daughter, perfect fiancée…” His voice was smoother, more teasing than he probably intended, and for the first time in their tumultuous back-and-forth, he wasn’t doing it to bait her. He didn’t even realise he was doing it at all.

She paused, turning her head toward him, her lips twitching into a small smile despite herself. “Perfect? You’re really pushing it, Reigns.”

“Well, isn’t that the story?” he chuckled. “Y’know… white dress, fairytale ending? Every ‘lil girl’s dream?”

Her smirk cracked into a proper smile. “Don’t tell me you’re that naive, Mr. Head of the Table. Besides, I highly doubt your version of a fairytale has anything in common with mine.”

Roman tilted his head, the charming grin of his slipping into place. “Maybe not. But who knows? Could surprise you, Volkov.”

Nate rolled her eyes but found herself stalling, her hand resting on the car’s handle without pulling it open. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, bol’shoy chelovek.”

She could see the bob of his Adam’s apple, rippling as he swallowed. It sent a little rush of excitement through her to see his unrestrained reaction to her Russian. She’d suspected his enjoyment before, but it was like he wasn’t even hiding it now. 

Opening the car door, she hesitated once more. Roman’s eyes were absolutely glued to her, and before she could get in and close the door completely, he leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a serious tone.

“Get in contact if you hear anything else,” he said. “We’ll figure out our next moves.”

Nate nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Will do.”

She slid into the driver’s seat, her movements slow, and Roman stepped back, watching as she settled behind the wheel. For a second, neither of them moved, neither willing to break the strange, new rhythm they’d found themselves in. Roman’s arms crossed over his chest as he gave her one final look, a more pliable glimmer behind his otherwise cold, empty eyes. 

Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, Nate pulled the door shut. But when it came time to start the engine and actually pull away… she couldn’t do it. Held back by… something. Not exhaustion, no… It wasn’t even the idea of going back home to her father.

It was the fact that leaving here felt harder than it should have.

As she pulled away, she swore she heard him tell her to “drive safe.” Like he cares what happens… 

But Roman had seen it. The reluctance in her eyes, the same hesitation that had started to creep into his own thoughts. And instantaneously, he realised something else. Something he never thought would push itself to the forefront of his thoughts.

He didn’t like watching her leave, either.

[imaslutforwritingshit]

oh my god you're like the only writer i've found whose requests are open rn

so basically ive been reading this rlly good book where the male protagonist is like rlly tall and super sweet and a hockey player and now i very desperately need ethan landry as that with like a short reader who maybe has some attitude

you can add smut (preferably) but if you can't think of anything for it it's fine!

OKAY

(Hockey Ethan Landry x fem. short reader, that ice skates)

(Part One- teasing, plot)

Sorry to the requester! This took a while like four months 😭 but luckily it’s skating season!

Ethan Landry ❤️‍🔥

Julie Weston 🤍

I started the routine again. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Wake up, grab my skates, go on the ice. I forget all of my problems when I skate, letting them fall under my feet as I rake the blades into powdery ice. Today, the rink is empty, given no one comes this early. It’s 5:00 in the morning, and if any person would be here right now, my guess is that they would be a sports player, considering how insane they all are.

Skating has been a part of my life forever, since I was a child, even. I don’t let myself think about how long it’s been, how much has changed. I just ride, to quote Lana, whose music I immediately put on, raising the volume of my AirPods to (almost) an extreme level. I begin the comfortable act of sliding my legs, bending my knees, then faster, until the ice is blending and whirling under my skates, and I am speeding in the rink, distracted by the music in my ears. I do a backwards spiral, grabbing my leg and twirling, then a backwards spin. I feel elevated, euphoric, and then, I feel a hard wall slam into my backside.

I trip over my skates, and fall to the ice, hearing my leggings rip from the impact. Groaning, I push myself up from my hands. Not blood, just a scrape on my legs. I sigh, and feel that my AirPods fell out of my ears when I had slammed to the ground. As I searched the ice for them, a low, gravely tone behind me scoffed.

I jumped, immediately turning unsuccessfully to meet the person. I stumbled, and straightened my legs out of fear, like a small deer in the wintertime. But no sheer amount of embarrassment could prepare me for who I saw behind me.

Ethan.

Ethan Landry.

When he met my expression, he smiled, his dark eyes glinting with the satisfaction of my surprise. His hair was messy, as if he had just woke up from bed, like me. He was wearing a black hoodie, and grey sweatpants, which seemed normal, but what stuck out to me was the hockey stick in his hands.

“I’m not gonna play with you, you know.” I stammered, pointing at the stick.

Ethan laughed smugly, and I swear I could’ve just slapped him then and there. He tapped the base of the stick on the ground. “Yeah? I was hoping you would.” He dropped his eyes to my smaller body, and I straightened my shoulders in an effort to be taller. “You certainly have the…build of a hockey player.”

I rolled my eyes, and huffed, grabbing my AirPods awkwardly in front of him. I could feel his stare down my back, and I really wished he wasn’t in direct view of my ass. I moved on the ice faster than I thought possible to get away from him, finding a corner where I practicing skating drills in an effort to sit with my thoughts. Ethan was moving a puck casually on the other side of the rink, and I made certain that he didn’t see me staring.

When I was in elementary school, Ethan Landry was every girl’s crush. How could he not be? With his dreamy eyes, his soft, tender voice, cute curls? I could remember every friend I ever had begging him for his number, or to sit with him during lunchtime. But no, not me. I saw who he really was. He was cocky, so much so that every time I walked by him, he would ask me if I was ready to admit I liked him. But I never did, and even if I would, he would never hear about it. Ethan would pester me, throw dodgeballs at my shoulder, tap my thumb repeatedly in 7up, until I glared at him, ultimately losing the game.

And I was fine hating Ethan Landry. I enjoyed it. I liked knowing that I was the only one who knew what he was- a playboy.

In 5th grade, I had a friend named Allie. She always tried to convince me to “confess” that I liked Ethan. She told me nobody could resist him, and there’s no point in me pretending that I didn’t like him. But it didn’t matter how many times I told her I wouldn’t. She already had a plan.

Allie wrote a fake love letter, filled with the grossest things a 5th grader would possibly write, or know about. Allie signed the letter with my name; putting it on Ethan’s desk the morning of English class. I will never forget the look on Ethan’s face after she told me what she did. It’s the first time I saw him blush.

Probably because Allie wrote, “I want to sleep with you,” in the letter, even if she didn’t know what that meant yet.

Needless to say, I never talked to that girl again, until she moved schools. And Ethan stopped bothering me after that. Only recently, in high school, the taunting and teasing has come up again. And with it, memories of 5th grade. I just need him out of my life. And the worst part is, he’s still just as fawned over, if not more, than before. Every girl I ever knew had once crushed on him. He’s gotten significantly taller, around 6’3, and his form filled out nicely after enrolling into hockey 7 years ago. I never went to any of his games, and honestly, I don’t care to. He’s not my friend, my enemy, or my lover. He’s nothing to me.

I took a break from skating, huffing over the side of the rink walls. I heard him skate over to me, and I straightened my body again, my heart suddenly faster. I didn’t dare look at him.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, hesitant. I ignored him. “Hey.” I only stared at him, feigning boredom. He gritted his teeth. “Julie, can I talk to you?”

“No.” I turned around and began skating on the ice. I heard Ethan groan behind me and follow my trail.

“What happened to us?” His voice was light, but the words cut deep.

I whirled around, putting my hands in my hips to seem like my fingers weren’t shaking.

“What do mean, us? There has been no us, there will never be an us,” I exclaim, skating backwards. “The last time I checked, the only thing you ever wanted us to be was the boy who makes fun of the girl, and the girl who loveeeddd the boy so much!” I mocked him, rolling out the word with an irritating gesture. I huffed in cold air, and whirled around for the final time, taking my time to exit the rink.

As I clanked my skates on the warm carpet of the bench area, I looked back, seeing Ethan’s eyes on mine. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down, and butterflies warmed my core. I forced my eyes down, and began disassembling my skates, stuffing them in the light pink bag I got for my 18th birthday.

“You know that I knew about Allie, right?”

His deep voice shocked me out of my state of pitiful thoughts. I shook my hair out of my face, and stared up, Ethan suddenly nearing the wall that separated the rink from the sitting area. I slid on my boots, and wiped melted water droplets from my pants as I stood.

“What?” My voice was weary. I just wanted to be home. School was tomorrow, and I would prefer to keep my Sunday Ethan-free from now on.

He stepped into the area, and sat down on the bench opposite to me. He was out of breath, red cheeked, with a smooth glaze of sweat gleaming on his sharp jawline. As he dusted off his sweats and kicked off his skates, he scoffed.

“I knew that Allie wrote the letter.” Silence filled the heavy room, only the heaters buzzing from afar the sound I could hear. Ethan finally stood up, black sneakers on his feet. He unzipped his jacket slowly, his eyes burning onto mine. As he stripped his body, I could see the muscles lining fabric underneath his shirt. I had to clench my thighs, bite my lip, not to go crazy.

Because, the secret was?

I’ve been attracted to Ethan Landry since the day I met him. And I’ve been trying, trying so hard to convince myself that I wasn’t.

He tugged on his sleeves, and casually zipping his bag as he talked. “She told me that she wrote it. And the reason that I was ignoring you after all of it wasn’t because I was embarrassed that you wanted to sleep with me.”

He stood near me, now towering over my frail body. I can’t believe how much taller he got, and he closed space between us, until I was up against the wall.

My nerves were burning, and his eyes were dark, fire pooling in his dangerously beautiful irises. He leaned in, his husky voice in my ear. “It’s because I was upset that you didn’t want to.”

My mouth dropped. “You were ten, and you knew what sleeping with people was?” That wasn’t on my mind. The thought that he would want me too… it drove me insane. I rubbed my legs together harder, pressure in my core.

Ethan laughed, but in a way that almost sounded painful. He leaned back, grazing my body with his eyes. “Jesus, not then.” His face suddenly got serious, as he rested his eyes on my hips, my breasts, and then my lips again.

“Now.”

My eyes opened wider than I could have imagined, and I gasped, letting breath open my lungs.

“Y-you want to sleep with me now?” I straightened my back, my eyes drilled into his.

His expression glinted with dark lust, a smile forming on his face as he took in my shock.

“Yeah.” He whispered, grabbing my wrist and sliding my arm over my head.

“Is that a problem?”

[loquarocoeur]

THE PLAYLISTS!! here are my in-depth thoughts about yours verse playlist bc this ask would be even more horrendously long 1. "risk" by gracie abrams is first of all such a good song, second of all it fits them so well and i cannot believe i didn't see that.

2. "CHEMTRAILS OVER THE COUNTRY CLUB" by LANA. FREAKING. DEL. REY. "drag racing my little red sports car; i'm not unhinged or unhappy, i'm just wild" and "it's beautiful how this deep normality settles down over me; i'm not bored or unhappy, i'm still so strange and wild" you are SO right

3. "naked in manhattan" is my favorite chappell roan song and that's all OKAY AND. AND. here are other songs i can see being yours coded bc i have too much time on my hands 1. "bad idea!" by girl in red (i think i have the right to say this as a lesbian idk.. seeing the amount of smut in the fic itself it's fitting)

2. "disaster" by conan gray (the second half of the chorus especially reminds me of the first chapter with drunk max)

3. "bang bang" by momma (this one is um. horny)

4. "a big brown dog named bagel" by nep (THIS ONE ESPECIALLY!!!! best 4 last. it gives charles pov and also the pet fics imo :,) ) okay i am SO SO sorry for yapping sm and writing a whole essay, i feel entitled i swear im not insane, i'm just very passionate about music as u can prob tell. i gave it colors if that helps. i don't have any smut to offer here only vibes and kinda horny songs, but for the anons going wild in ask box i salute u!

Omg yes, I know I wrote a whole fic called casual, but naked in manhattan is THE best currently released chappel roan song

And omggg you're so right with your recs actually I can't even explain, just everything about them you're righttt🥺🥺 Gonna be having so much fun dissecting these lyrics now I can't even quote the good parts at you there are too many

And I'm gonna be honest I appreciate non smut asks SO much bcs like I do love the horny but we also need a teeny bit of balance and I treasure the increasingly rare PG asks🥰🥰

[felonytaxevasion]

For the record here are my other Undersider drunken karaoke night picks I think about this situation a normal amount (lie)

Round 1 - No One Has Added Underage Drinking To Their Daily Crime Journal Yet

Lisa - Lisa starts everyone off with California Girls because she is, in her heart, A California Girl She's Undeniable Daisy Dukes Bikinis on Top. Lisa is probably the closest thing the Undersiders have to a good singer but she's totally hamming it up here to break the ice in hopes Taylor will participate

Aisha - Every single Rihanna album has gone platinum in Aisha Laborn's bedroom and she will take any opportunity to make this fact known. I think she would pick Only Girl In The World because Aisha really feels like Rihanna made that one just for her specifically. Not a singer with technical expertise but she brings the most passion and joy to her performances

Brian - As stated in an earlier post he picks Bruno Mars Beautiful Girls All Over The World, possibly Just The Way You Are. He did not pick them to serenade Taylor specifically but at one point he does make eye contact with Taylor during the chorus and it embarrasses them both. Aisha pretends to vomit.

Alec - picks the exact same song as Brian and does it worse in every way. Intentionally makes eye contact with each of the Undersiders making sure to really draw out Brian's turn

Taylor - Peer pressured enough to participate but not enough to choose a song she actually likes and listens to in fear of being judged. She performs Fireflies by Owl City with real fireflies and it's equal parts charming and horrifying. Lisa cheers too loudly and Alec hides behind Brian and Rachel from the bugs. Taylor vows to never perform at karaoke again

Rachel - refuses to participate

Round 2 - Everyone is Slightly Tipsy

Lisa - Lisa performs Girls Just Want To Have Fun and gets really into it. She only hits half of the high notes but she tries really hard to hit all of them. It's the closest thing to an impressive performance any of them achieve all night

Brian - cuts in front of Aisha to perform Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Performs all nine minutes even while Aisha boos him and also sings the guitar solos. Experiences joy and whimsy for the first time in months

Aisha - Don't Trust Me by 3OH3. While singing the line "I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him" she gets too excited and flings a bracelet off knocking a glass off a table and shattering it. This does not slow her performance for even a second

Alec - Friday by Rebecca Black. Very pleased with the negative reaction this inspires. Aisha tries to chase him off the stage and the latter half of the song is just them wrestling for the microphone

Taylor and Rachel decline to participate and instead sit in the corner and whisper gay things the whole round

Round 3 - Completely Lost In The Sauce Wasted

Lisa - Incredibly Solemn and Serious rendition of Video Games by Lana Del Rey. Alec dims the lights and everyone sans Rachel wave their cellphone flashlights for her

Alec - Alec has spent the entire night lying and telling Aisha he can sing all the words to Rap God by Eminem. He messes up the words in the first verse immediately. Laughs through the rest of the performance and accidentally makes up a new word that becomes he and Aisha's new terrible "inside joke" they insist on saying every five minutes for the next month

Brian - Low by Flo Rida. Does a whole dance routine to go along with it. Everyone except Aisha has a GREAT time

Aisha - Super Bass by Nicki Minaj. High off the excitement of his last performance Brian performs along and completely steals the show. This leads to the first bout of drunken crying (Aisha. Immediately followed by Brian) followed by drunken declarations of love and affirmation

Eventually the affirmations lead to Taylor agreeing to singing one more song so long as every Undersider individually promises her they won't make fun of her. She picks This Is War by Thirty Seconds to Mars because she is a terrible angsty teenager in 2011 and she sings it very badly. Everyone stills cheers for her though and it is a very good finale

On the way home they get Rachel to agree to do the barks if the rest of them sing Who Let The Dogs Out acapella. This footage is captured by street cams and the footage of the teenage warlords walking down the street barking is presented as a "twisted intimidation tactic" by the PRT for the next three years

[sweetsweetloverlover]

btwww i got my hashtag deezer year yesterday morning look <3 sorry its in french. the first two say i streamed 14475 minutes of music which makes 241 hours. and i listened to 1611 songs of which 1009 i discovered this year.

i never know if im a very regular person or if i listen to music wayyy less than the average person but. im pretty sure i dont listen to nearly as much music as most of my friends & mutuals (or even my brothers & dad). anyway heres the amount of time spent listening to each of my top artists in order -> arctic monkeys : 6 hrs / blur : 9 hrs / lana del rey : 12 hrs / radiohead : 16 hrs / alt-j : 19 hrs. once again my total hours of music listened to this year is 241 like. when i say i listen to the same 5-6 artists on repeat it is not a joke <3

and here's how many times i listened to each of my top songs in order too yeehaw -> tiny dancer : 17 / philadelphia : 19 / the chain : 20 / little green bag : 22 / honey : 24. nothing to say abt that since over the years ive seen many ppl talk about their wrapped (or well. deezer year) and how they listened to some song 147 times or smth so im feeling pretty normal abt this one

also they added this thing thats like. the country most of the songs you listened to come from and ive got 147 hours of music from the uk. out of 241 hours of music at all like 😭 yes u got me im not immune to britpop britrock britpunk #sorrywomen

[essiekuko]

faking it til u make it is so real. i may not even be that tall at 5'6, but i jst pretend like im tall yk. i live in a place where ppl are naturally very tall. and i love just being tall ig, fashion models are tall, and they're my icons. plus, being tall basically means u can 3at more than shorter ppl, so to kind of make up for e4t1ng, i just remind myself that im tall. i 4te like straight after my 24h f4st, and i f4st3d so nobody can tell me nothing. at least i hit 24h lmfao. and its not even that serious as time goes on. i had under my usual safe intake of 800cal, cause i had 750cal, and thats prettyyy normal for me. and ik its not going to give me a big wg. im content with how things are going for me, i've finally found my balance point. if i have something, like a m3al, i practice 0m4d, which is what i just did. i only have something to 3at after a day and a day is my minimum of f4st1ng, it helps me, cause my body empties everything out, keto happens, and yea my body just sits around waiting for f00d. its not like im g41n1ng. but obv, u cant stay in the same place for the rest of ur life, and i have my goals of increasing my f4sts length, one at a time. yk, you'll have to f0rce f33d me if u ever want to see me 34t1ng :3

the difference between 3dtwt and 3dblr for me is like. my first introduction to 3d social media was 3dblr, and on 3dblr, there's not a large community here, people tend to keep to themselves and because of that there's not a whole lot of content to see. plus the insane censoring u have to do to bypass getting termed. so i had to work with what little content/info/tips i could get on 3dblr and teach myself everything abt it. then i go onto 3dtwt for the first time, just to see what the hype is. i dont like twt generally, because its so complex and the user base is so big u feel like u get no space to urself, and also due to the large amount of content being so overwhelming. i taught myself all the little 3d keywords like "h0n3ym00n ph4se", "0m4d" and all the abbrev. of goals like cw, gw, lw, etc. i interpreted it how i wanted, taught myself the meanings, and just used my own opinions on what they could mean. and im glad i have 3dblr to fuel my 3d, cause i got to teach myself and not be handed all the tips on a platter to my disposal if i had 3dtwt, i had to make my own tips. and yeah, i taught myself my own rules, and it gave me the sense of control i needed. besides, twt is so confusing, so i keep to myself on that website anyway, in my own little corner, avoiding all the big heated topics and what not. like a ghost basically, i come and i go

and its insane how popular it is. i search for 'honeymoon' first, so i can get to the honeymoon lyrics bot (i love the lyrics bots sm) and then the first search i get recommended is 'honeymoon ph4se' lmfao. and it makes me feel like, "honeymoon ph4se..... i havent heard that in a loooooong time.....🚬🚬🚬"

im surprised god knows i tried isn't a popular lana song. it seems like it would be, and i tend to like her more catchy songs over the slow songs you'd typically expect to be the underrated ones. i saw this reel a while back, where the scenario was of someone meeting a lana fan, and they're about to tell them their favorite lana song, and the person on the other end guesses with all of her most popular songs. and god knows i tried wasn't one of them?? i feel for that one sm and relate to it the most out of any main-era lana song probably (excluding aka because that's not considered main-era lana, since it's pretty obvious she went under a different name at that time)

the themes of music to watch boys to is so close to aka. i love the lana songs where she can still pull lore from what was sung in aka. music to watch boys to is so close to mermaid motel and the unreleased trash magic/miss america. and i love the lyrics in it too, like i've said before, there's deep meaning behind lana's lyrics that are short, small and simple. she paints a larger picture with just keywords

i've only rt like 3 different lana lyrics from the bots of aka, honeymoon and btd/paradise ep. and that's probably all i'll ever post, i only needed some simple posts to help decorate my page that i dont intend on rlly posting on anyway. even my ghost accs need decoration. that was my intention with my main, just having a pretty profile and pretty rbs to decorate my profile

OKAY SOMEBODY NEEDS TO START PAYING THAT ONE AUTHOR CAUSE THEY'RE CARRYING THE ENTIRE TAG 😭😭😭

i go check back on it like once a week and then i see consecutive posts all made day after day by the same person like......

they're gonna get tired of it soon others need to step up fr!! 😥

ok the THING abt 3dtwt is that, like, theres sm content and sm idk...easy romanticisation? and, like, with 3d ur obviously strugging, and u cant just lie to urself that ur not struggling and in some deep sh1t, and if anyones gotta know that, the first person to know must be u, the one with the 3d. i dont prefer 3dtwt bc posts are so simple to understand its almost like 3d content creators are explaining their tips to a child. theres pretty pictures and emoji headers everywhere, and someone who just realised they had 3d symptoms or a newcomer to the 3d community would appreciate that simplicity. but ik from experience 3d isnt that simple. its a disorder, everyones fvcked up, and some find beauty or solace in it to cope. im most likely just saying this cause i had to teach myself how to deal with my own disorder and the rest of 3dtblr was so distant, so the simplicty of 3dtwt isn't something i can appreciate bc i dont need it. im used to the mystery surrounding 3d posts, and the only reason why tblr 3d content gotta be elusive is cause of the terming and stuff. and it gets confusing and lonely, having a mental illness, so i like how hard it is to understand 3dblr, it just seems like i fit right in. the mass of content on 3dtwt makes it seem so much more inviting and welcoming, when in reality 3dtwt is more brutal than 3dblr. u gotta remember that 3d is a disorder, messed up and none of it is pretty. ofc both social medias romanticise 3ds, and i just personally like how tblr does it, cause it can tie into the dark coquette image that tblr is known for, like the famous tumblr girl image, and the mystery/stigma surrounding 3ds

2nd hand embarrassment is so bad

beat me and tell me that noone will love me, better than u do xx

omfg. yall.. im in some deep sh1t rn. im trying to sing all the aka lyrics i can before i face my problems lord pls

imagine being loud but not fvked up. and then being quiet and not fvked up. imagine just being not fcked up in general

ok theres a chance i had under 700cal today. like 600cal. but im not gonna act like i didnt 34t today lmfao.

the way i reply to nookazon reviews vs traderie reviews is lmfao. on nookazon i write out think pieces, cause ppl be writing heartfelt reviews. its like "thank u SO much for ur UNDERSTANDING, CARE, APPRECIATION" and then on traderie if u even get a message along with a review, i just be replying with emojis 😭

ok this is SO NOT ultraviolence....

i hv to say its not ultraviolence girl. call em up asap 😥

listening to 2010s pop, alt and r&b helps me feel older. cause when i was younger, all the teens in my life loved that music, cause it was what was popular in the 2010s, when they were teens and i was younger and looked up at them. now im a teen, nobody to look up to, so i go back listening to music they did. i need to know what it means to be a teen, since all the teenagers i've since met in my life have grown up, and left me behind the day i finally caught up to them, and realised they were already gone. i listen to the music that the teens i've known in my life liked, to feel like a teen too. and i've always liked this music cause i grew up with it being around them, now i've gotten to the age they were when this was popular, and i can enjoy it like they did now that i no longer have to look up at them, but directly eye to eye

it's making more sense why i post like its still the 2010s. about pop culture from over 6 years ago, that has already passed. maybe to feel like they did

[tybaltsjuliet]

nicky’s archetype playlists, 08/11: the damsel.

and there's a perfect kiss somewhere out in the dark, but a kiss ain't enough.

(listen.)

i. the only time i feel all right is by your side. all i ever wanted was a life in your shape (so i follow the white lines, follow the white lines, keep my eyes on the road, and i ache.)

somebody to love (queen) // i've just seen a face (jim sturgess; from across the universe) // when my boy walks down the street (the magnetic fields) // strawberry blond (mitski) // about a girl (the academy is...) // be my baby (the dollyrots) // stupid cupid (connie francis) // grand theft autumn/where is your boy (fall out boy) // all day and all of the night (the kinks)

ii. that james dean daydream look in your eyes. yeah, i got busted (so i used my one phone call to dedicate a song to you on the radio).

townie (mitski) // boys boys boys (lady gaga) // the dum dum ditty (the shangri-las) // you are the light (by which i travel into this and that) (jens lenkman) // style (taylor swift) // burning love (elvis presley) // crimson and clover (joan jett and the blackhearts) // leader of the pack (twisted sister) // a shark in jets clothing (blondie) // i think we're alone now (tiffany) // there is a light that never goes out (the smiths)

iii. when i say i love you, you say, "you better." in or out, there's never a doubt just who's pulling the strings. (i'm all tied up in you, but where's it leading me to?)

the book of love (the monotones) // don't you (forget me about me) (billy idol) // love my way (the psychedelic furs) // puppet on a string (sandie shaw) // the tide is high (blondie) // when i come around (green day) // you better you bet (the who) // my sharona (the knack) // heart-shaped glasses (when the heart guides the hand) (marilyn manson)

iv. lovefool. you said you'll never be forgiven till your boys are, too.

dance, dance (fall out boy) // lovefool (the cardigans) // heart of glass (blondie) // off to the races (lana del rey) // sweet sixteen (billy idol) // colors (halsey) // total eclipse of the heart (bonnie tyler) // speechless (lady gaga) // as the world falls down (david bowie) // heaven's gate (fall out boy) // love song ( lana del rey)

v. there's things i want to say to you, but i'll just let you live. our love was worth a real long try, and i was just trying to be worthy of your love. (but i want to see blood.)

killer (phoebe bridgers) // exit music for a film (radiohead) // every breath you take (the police) // drive (halsey) // cinnamon girl (lana del rey) // loveletting (sons of an illustrious father) // early sunsets over monroeville (my chemical romance) // you're my world (cilla black)

vi. did you ever love her, do you know, or did you never want to be alone? so can we be friends, sweetly before the mystery ends? (i love you more than the world can contain in its lonely and ramshackle head.)

something (himesh patel) // young and beautiful (lana del rey) // love of my life (queen) // jesus was a cross maker (judee sill) // girl in the war (josh ritter) // step (vampire weekend) // jet pack blues (fall out boy) // heartbreak beat (the psychedelic furs) // love love love (the mountain goats) // john my beloved (sufjan stevens)

vii. there's a place for us - you know, the movie song. i can't do everything, but i'd do anything for you. (i can't do anything except be in love with you.)

how to disappear (lana del rey) // the blower's daughter (damien rice) // i'll never be lonely again (ludo) // kissing you (des'ree) // lovesong (the cure) // sweet sir galahad (joan baez) // willow (taylor swift) // i'll be your girl (the decemberists) // friday i'm in love (the cure) // i melt with you (modern english) // bella notte (ruby summer)

+ bonus: in my life, we'll always go on (and on, and on, and on)! my heart will go on - in the style of jackie wilson (mykal kilgore + postmodern jukebox)

[siren-ej-exe]

The Messy French Girl Aesthetic: It’s Origins and Impact

When you think of Parisian style, what comes to mind? 

Is it Parisian style staples such as trench coats, ballet flats or a little black dress? Or French fashion style icons such as Françoise Hardy, Bridget Bardot and Jane Birkin? 

Many people on Tik Tok have been infatuated with the fantasy of the “Messy French girl” with the idea behind it being to dress effortlessly chic, timeless and stylish, whilst being careless. Achieving the look involves investing in items such as tailored jeans, mini skirts (usually black or plaid), basic plain tops with small patterns, a little black dress, loafers, ballet flats, oversized blazers, dress shirts, preppy jumpers, black healed boots, black stilettos, loafers, Mary Jane’s, fur coats, black or white tights with either designer logos or delicate patterns and a leather blazer.  They also take inspiration from people like Lily Rose Depp being the main one, Carla Bruni and Camille Rowe. The colours associated with this style are mainly: Red, Black,White, Creme and Camel. The brands that are usually mentioned are: Dior, Chanel, Burberry, Ralph Lauren, Brandy Melville, Reformation and Realisation as they are seen as creating classic clothing items or footwear as well as Dior and Chanel being actually French which can be seen as more ‘authentic’. 

The “Messy French Girl” loves red lipstick, smudged eye makeup, almond acrylic nails, listening to Lana Del Ray, wearing pearl jewellery, smoking, drinking red wine and is mysterious, has a small group of friends, journals, loves to read, is always on the go, goes out to fancy dinners and can be a party girl but will arrive home early to avoid the hangover. Whilst also being academic/intelligent and down to earth. With the idea of living in a lavish apartment in Paris and living her best life. This new re-birth of “The French Girl” is another example of trends repeating themselves and again connecting with younger audiences, making the whole aesthetic very profitable for brands. This aesthetic has quite a few crossovers between the Rockstar Girlfriend aesthetic and the Coquette aesthetic as it’s a more grunge version of the normal and lighter French Girl aesthetic. However, with most aesthetics birthed by Tik Tok there is also an issue with being inclusive as the aesthetics are usually curated to rich, thin, white women. As it has idealises the “heroin chic” body type created by Kate Moss in the 90′s and 2000′s. 

But how realistic is the idea of how actual Parisians dress day to day? Luckily I was able to go to Paris myself earlier this year in April of this year and observe peoples actual everyday style and here are some of my observations: 

Parisians do seem to dress in mainly plain colours and quiet a few people do wear trench coats as well as tailored Jeans and basic tops. However, almost no one was wearing ballet flats and the majority were wearing tennis shoes ( I also saw a lot of Adidas Sambas on the men particularly.) Although eventually you will see pops of bright colour. So basically, they dress like everyone else who lives in a European city. 

I think that Parisians in general don’t dress necessarily for style purposes but mainly for practicality and comfort trying to walk around the city as European cities are usually made for walking due to the amount of public transport.However, it is important to remember the aesthetics are mainly fantasies and in a way is not meant to be realistic The romanticisation of Parisian style or Paris in general, mainly seems to come from Americans.

The origins of this romanticisation stem from the making of old Hollywood films such as An American in Paris and Midnight in Paris. This is because in 1923 when the International Research Kinema asked the Séeberger brothers to take photos of Paris that are representative to help Hollywood help reconstruct it on sets. They took fashion photos of the highest class on what we now call street style. Some people see them as the “Fathers of street style photography.” In an article by Cody Delistraty titled “Why Americans Romanticise Paris” he explains why Americans are infatuated with Paris because “Everything in Paris is close enough to the American equivalent where it’s still accessible, not too foreign – it can still act as a screen to our desires. But there are slight differences. There are of course the obvious differences: the Eiffel Tower is not the Empire State Building, the Seine is not the Hudson, but it’s the smaller things in quotidian life that throw the visiting American for a loop.” Showing that Americans find a clear familiarity in Paris, but it could also be an affect of their long history together.

France is known as the US’s oldest ally, helping them win the American Revolutionary War in 1775-1783 and American diplomats travelled to Paris and write of there experiences. In Mina Le’s video titled “American Girl unpacks the “French Girl” Style” she talks about the history between America and France and how that helped France’s tourism from 8:46-14:03, which I recommend as well as Dion the Taurus’s video titled “Style Analysis: The Messy French Girl - opulence,cigarettes + continued Francophila” which I found interesting and if you are interested in aesthetics and fashion history I recommend their channels. 

I think that “The French Girl” aesthetics will always be re birthed so long as it is profitable and are mainly catered to American audiences a good example of seeing how Paris and Parisian style is marketed towards American audiences is the show “Emily in Paris.” seems a lot of people don’t actually enjoy watching it because it’s good but because it is a good hate watch. Although it doesn’t necessarily link to the “Messy French Girl” aesthetic it does show a good example of trying  to sell the idea of Paris to Americans. Obviously, the aesthetic is only a fantasy and not realistic as many actual Parisians dress for comfort and practicality whilst being stylish if that is their goal. 

Let me know what you guys think about “The Messy French Girl” aesthetic!, if you are French what do you think of it?

Lots of love,

~Siren~ <3

[lilietsblog]

so whenever Russian characters crop up in American/English-speaking media theres a very noticable thing where writers v often dont understand patronymics and full names.

Now, there’s two gradations of “full name” that are in use here. There is the “FIO” full name, or SGP perhaps (surname, given name, patronymic), and there is the full given name.

As an example, let’s take Ivanov Ivan Ivanovich.

Ivanov is the surname. You can tell bc of hte -ov suffix at the end. (Not the only one possible but a pretty decent indication something is a surname when it is there)

Ivan is the given name. You can tell bc Russian has a set (an expansive one) of given names and this is one of them, one of the most historically popular at that.

Ivanovich is the patronymic, it can be translated as “son of Ivan”. You can tell bc of the “ovich” suffix. There is also “evich” and for at least one name just “ich”. Colloquially they will also get shortened into just “ych” making the variation “Ivanych”. (”Y” is the letter used for transliteration of a sound that doesn’t exist in English but is considered fairly close to “i’)

To be clear, “Ivanov Ivan Ivanych” is the exact same person as “Ivanov Ivan Ivanovich”, this is hte exact same name, the only thing that changes is how formal the speaker is being about it.

Female suffixes are “evna” and “ovna”. Anna Petrovna, Anna Fadeevna. There is also “ichna” for at least one name and an antiquated “ishna” which is the colloquial alternative in some cases. Anna Fadeevna = Anna Fadeishna. This IS antiquated tho.

Coming back to our Ivanov Ivan Ivanovich, this is the “FIO” form of his name, the way it will be put on formal documents that require one’s full name. The “Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov” form is also acceptable, its just not the order you write on documents in. The patronymic (Ivanovich) always comes after the full given name (Ivan), the surname can be stuck on either side of that.

The traditional respectful address to someone you know is the full given name + patronymic. Ivan Ivanovich! Could you come over here? It’s used with plural/formal “you”. This form is also becoming obsolete in recent years but if you’re writing mid-20th-century or characters of middle age+ Ivan Ivanovich is the name to go.

(Note the difference from the address + surname form in English: Dr. Smith or Mr Smith etc. In Russian this form does not exist except several centuries back or in very very impersonal century back “citizen Ivanov” that like a policeman would use to address you. Not anyone you actually know personally. Schoolchildren will often not know their teachers’ surnames because they are all Ivan Ivanovich to them.)

Now I keep saying “Ivan” is the FULL given name. The short given name from “Ivan” is “Vanya”. This is a set linguistic fact - the set of given names in Russian is factually two linked sets, a set of full given names and a set of short given names. Some short given names can  be short from several full given names, some full given names can have several short names (a person will usually pick one to use). A short given name doesn’t go anywhere on formal documents. It just follows from your full given name naturally, like conjugation. Some full given names (Gleb, Oleg, Diana, Vera) are short enough to be used as short given names too and so don’t realy have assigned short counterparts. In fact Vera can be both a full name on its own - Ivanova Vera Ivanovna - and short for Veronica - Ivanova Veronica Ivanovna.

Short names are formed through a variety of rules. There are basic requirements for the form they take as a result though. Full given names can have “complicated” consonant pairs together: Dmitriy, Aleksandr, Pavla, Anna. Short names are “simple” will almost always go consonant-vowel. Dmitriy -> Dima, Aleksandr -> Sasha, Alik or Shura (don’t ask how that last one happened, it’s a miracle of absurdity, but it’s one of the traditional shortenings), Pavla -> Pasha (well, Pavla is a rare name, you hear Pasha and you usually assume Pavel, the male name), Anna -> Anya. (”y” is not a consonant here, “ya” is a vowel sound English doesnt really have)

(As an exception to the consonant-vowel rule, when there’s a consonant pair the second of which is “l” it’s usually kept together in the short name - it’s just very simple to the Russian ear / tongue. Vladislav - Vlad or Slava, for example)

Often a name will be formed fully from the syllables / consonants of the full name, give or take changing the last vowel to the gender neutral “a”/”ya” (It will either be “a”/”ya” or a consonant). Vladimir -> Vlad, Ruslana -> Lana, Tatiana -> Tanya, Anna -> Anya, Katerina -> Katya, Dmitriy -> Dima or Mitya, Ivan -> Vanya. And then there’s the “sha” suffix tacked on as the second syllable: Pavel -> Pasha, Natalia -> Natasha or Tasha, Daria -> Dasha, Aleksandr -> Sasha, etc.

So long as they conform to these rules, you can kind of make them up. Though considering the whole of history, you’re not super likely to make up something that hasn’t been made up before you. Anna historically speaking turns into Anya, Nyura, Nyusha... -shudders-

So how are short names actually used?

As an implication of familiarity/subordination, that’s how. For the weebs in the audience, you know the ‘-chan’ suffix in Japanese? Kind of exactly like that. Japanese has more nuances, but generally if you wouldn’t call someone -chan, you shouldn’t call them by their short name. (Unless they specifically asked you to, but I think that’s a thing in Japanese too)

Short names are never paired with patronymics. The steps of formality in address are basically “Ivan Ivanovich” => “Ivan” => “Vanya”.

(There’s also formal you, so to be completely clear: “Ivan Ivanovich” (formal you) => “Ivan” (formal you) => “Vanya” (formal you) => “Vanya” (informal you). If someone is getting called their full given name + informal you, it’s either implying antiquity - pre 20th century - or they’re using their full given name as their short given name.)

You call your children and siblings by short names. You call your friends by short names. You MIGHT call your employees, especially if they are sufficiently young, or if you’ve known them for a long time and the “familiarity” part applies, by short names.

SHORT NAMES ARE NOT FORMAL. This is important. Nobody has “Natasha” written in their passport (unless I guess they were making new documents in America or something from scratch and didn’t use any old ones as basis of establishing idenity so could make up whatever. It’s still weird! It’s like having “Johnny-boy” written in your passport!)

SHORT NAMES ARE OFTEN GENDERED BUT YOU CANNOT TELL HOW WITHOUT KNOWING THE CORRESPONDING FULL NAME. “Pasha” and “Misha” are both male names becaus they are short from “Pavel” and “Mikhail”. Of course you could have a Pavla or a Mikhaila, but the former is very rare and the latter is probably a foreign Mykaila Russianified or something. In these cases it’s usually considered normal to assume gender, even if there’s a tiny chance you could be wrong.

PATRONYMICS ARE NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES INTERCHANGEABLE WITH SURNAMES. You have the same surname as your family members, but if you have the same patronymic, either you’re siblings or there are multiple people with the same given name in your immediate family, which is slightly odd. A patronymic is formed from your father’s name by unambiguous and definite rules. Foreign names can be turned into patronymics easily. (Though kids of foreign citizens can get whatever their parents want on their birth certificate - patronymic by the rules of one of the parents’ home country, no patronymic at all, whatever) Surnames are surnames and work the same way they work anywhere else.

PATRONYMICS AND SURNAMES ARE NOT CONNECTED IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER. Any surname goes with any patronymic same as it goes with any given name. Except for the obvoius “statistically likely to be from the same culture” part. (Your “Russian” character could have Georgian, Ukrainian, Armenian, Lithuanian, Bielorussian, Kazakh, Tatar descent, descent from any number of indigenous cultures on the territory of Russia that I personally never heard about until I started translating documents in high amounts and stumbling upon them. Russia is an empire!) But even that’s just statistics - you could have a Tsukino Farha Bogdanovna and I’d just go “that’s a fascinating family history right there”.

GOOGLE RUSSIAN GIVEN NAMES, DON’T MAKE THEM UP. And pay attention if something is marked as “diminutive” - that means it’s a short name, and it will not be used on formal documents or in conjunction with a patronymic. Go for the name it’s diminutive for and just have the character ask everyone to use their short name if you want - it’s trendy these days.

There’s all kinds of fuckery going on with name use on the margins - some old people will call their close friends the “patronymic + informal you” construction. (Actually it’s a “Russian babushka” stereotype that actually exists within the culture. And if anyone ever uses the “short name + patronymic” form irl it’s this category of people, though I’d imagine only in third person) Some bosses or even teachers will invite their students to call them by their short name (I am so deeply uncomfortable with this). Age is often the difference between a Vanya and an Ivan Ivanovich in the same situation.

All patronymics and a good share of surnames conjugate by gender! “Ivanov” and “Ivanova” are the exact same surname, but a guy will have the former writen in their documents and a gal would have the latter. If you legally change your gender that letter changes too. (No, there’s no gender neutral form. Some surnames, like those ending in -enko, just don’t do this, but those that do are at all times one or the other) I guess expatriates a couple of generations down could have whatever going on, but if you have an actually-born-in-Russia “Ivanova Ivan Ivanovna” that means “Ivan” is a girl with a male name for some fucking reason. Name gendering is just tradition, patronymic gendering is grammar. (And if you have an “Ivanova Ivan Ivanovich” that’s just someone making a typo) (Maybe our hypothetical Ivanova Ivan Ivanovna transitioned and liked her birth name so much, she decided to not even go for Ivanna or something else plausible, Ivan or bust. Officials would probably just shrug and go with it lmao)

Oh, and in less formal lists and situations, surname + short given name is a classical combination. When I call my grandboss, surname + short given name is how I introduce myself, because I’m much younger and much subordinate so short name it is, but she’s under no obligation to identify me from my given name so surname it is. (To people who I expect to remember my name but who weren’t expecting me to call, just surname is good, but to people who can connect my surname with my identity but probably don’t remember my given name immediately & exactly from that, giving also the form of given name they address me by is the reasonable person thing to do)

If I were introducing myself in the “Hi! I’m Tsukino Usagi!” anime intro format, I’d go for “Short given name + surname”. Short name is usually the one people think of as their personal identity as it’s whatt their close circle will have been calling them for their entire life, and ACTUALLY it’s normal for the surname to come after the given name. In a book citation of “famous doctor X did Y” they will probably be “famous doctor fullgivenname-patronymic-surname”. For a Russian speaker, switching between Japanese name order and English name order is not a difficulty, but we WILL be distressed by not being able to tell which is which and therefore which it is on sight )=

MARVEL COMICS WALL OF SHAME

- Natasha Alianovna Romanova. First, “Romanov” is not a common surname, it’s the surname of the royal family, it’s like a random English guy being called “Tudor”. Well, it’s plausible, it IS formed by the classic “common given name + -ov” rule, but Roman isn’t even that common a name (and not exactly Russian), and... well. It’s just weird. I don’t think there’s good chances for it to have come into existence as such historically WHEN IT WAS THE RULING FAMILY SURNAME. Second! Natasha is a short name! She should be Natalia/Natalya! Third... I mean I will not say Alian is not an existing male name, and I won’t even say it’s not used in any cultures that exist within Russia, but if they were aiming for “common Russian male name” they missed 180 degrees.

- Ilyana Rasputin. First, -in is a suffix that makes this surname adjective-ish, meaning it conjugates by gender, meaning she is RASPUTINA. Her brother is Rasputin. She is Rasputina. Second, again, I have heard of exactly one (1) guy with this surname, and it’s the same guy you’re thinking of right now. It is in no way, shape or form common, or reasonable to give to a character without making it a plot point. Third, Ilyana is not a Russian name that exists. Ilya is a male name, but there’s no female form. FOURTH, I distinctly remember reading a comic where she was calling her brothers “Piotr” and “Mikhail”. That’s their full names! I mean bonus points for actually finding the full names this time, but it’s extremely weird for their LITTLE SIBLING to use them! They should be Petya and Misha as far as her own speech is concerned!

P.S. “All Night Laundry” is a fantastic webcomic, but “Grandimir” is not a real name, “Grand” is not a Russian word root and will not be used in a name this way, you’re looking for “Velimir” or somethng (though that’s, like, a thousand years antiquated). Also while both the uncle and the nephew having the “Petrovich” patronymic is not that odd, Petr is not THAT rare a name and maybe their brother/father was Petr Petrovich... considering we never learn their surname, I seriously suspect the writer just confused a patronymic with a surname. Also, naming their dog the same name crosses the line into slightly weird. Who names a dog after their father? This is actually what prompted this...

[mosneakers]

Tag Game

I normally prefer to join sim related tag games (because I couldn't imagine anyone thinking anything about my life is interesting haha) but since I don't have a lot to post today, I figured I'd jump in! Thanks for tagging me @skywardoasis 💗

Nickname: Momo 🍑

Zodiac: LEO BAbEEE 🦁

Height: 5'6"

Last movie I saw: uhhh what's it called... Don't Breathe 2. muah very good, loved it 💋

Last thing I googled: "sims 4 career outfit cheat"

Favorite Musician(s): ohh boy, they're mostly bands, but Young the Giant, Bombay Bicycle Club, the Shins/Broken Bells, Muse, Gorillaz, and sometimes Lana Del Rey and Taylor Swift depending on my mood 😊🌼

Song stuck in my head: Some song on Kanye's new album (not really a fan but still catchy)

Other blogs: none

Blogs following: Earlier this year I cut a bunch of blogs from the list I follow, because the amount of posts I saw that were not sim related or didn't have tags were overwhelming, and it got to the point where I couldn't keep up with my favorite stories because all these reblogs and stuff were bogging them down. So after the cleanse I now follow 233!

Amount of sleep: inconsistent 😞

Lucky Number: ✨7✨

What am I wearing: black dress with pink flowers 🥰 (florals will never go out of style for me bb)

Dream Job: Honestly what I'm doing now is my dream job, full time stay at home mom and creating sims stories. Now where do I sign up to get paid for it? 🤔

Dream Trip: Literally anywhere you want to send me? Love adventure, lack the simoleons 😑

Oceanside or mountainside? 🗻🌲

Describe yourself as (an) aesthetic thing(s): Soft

Random fact: Here's three:

I've never smoked anything ever. I recently did a breathing test and x-ray of my chest, and according to the pulmonary doctor, I have "beautiful lungs". This is what I picture my x-ray looked like:

(shameless plug) If you're want custom poses every month, you can join my patreon tier "Pose Me Like One of Your French Sims" for $5 a month. Technically it's supposed to be a voting system, but I have so few followers right now that I'll just make the poses you request! Alternatively, you can sign up for $1 tier "Rated "S" for Spicy" to see the spicier posts tumblr can't handle 🔥

I'm always wishing for a storm 🥺🌧️

Tagging: @queeniecook @zosa95 @keri666 @whyhellosims @treason-and-plot @pixel-bloom @ice-creamforbreakfast @natolesims @ashubii @oatberrytea @echoweaver @wannabecatwriter @ladykendalsims @melunn @bbdoll @cantseemtohide

apologies if you've already been tagged which I'm sure you have, you cuties, you 🥰

[ofmccnlight]

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐎𝐗.    /     six   characters  or   alternatively   titled   :   my   ode   to   asian   women   and   also   this   white   guy   .

𝐂𝐇𝐎  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆   (   @chhochang   )

lana , i believe i have already told you that i think jessica henwick is an incredibly sexy choice but i will reiterate : jessica henwick is an incredibly sexy choice . i swear i love cho a normal amount , i swear . the easy friendships she has with people and this down - to - earth air that makes her seem so incredibly easy to talk to ( and , therefore , reply to ! ) . underlying all of that , though , is this quiet strength that is never talked about in canon even though it is incredibly apparent in who she is ! the fact that you made her a professional quidditch player ! sheʻs just threaded with competitiveness and resolve and kindness that i canʻt help but love everything i see of her . a fucking fantastic take on cho chang . absolutely stunning , lana , my DARLING .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈  𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐋   (  @dolors   )

i am obsessed . i am obsessed . from the moment you said you were picking them up , i just knew i was gonna be ass over kettle for this . i think that what you do really well is that you change your canon characters , kind of significantly , from how we see in canon and make these changes so grounded in grief and moving on from the war that all of it makes complete sense . of course parvati would leave . all of your character choices are very deliberate and they feel so authentic that i canʻt help but adore every single one you make . what a beautiful take on this character . what a beautiful way to give a voice to a character whose only traits in the books is being half of a very pretty matched set . this is ajayʻs favorite cousin in the whole world and they are my favorite shittalkers in the whole world . 

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐀   𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈   𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐌𝐀   (   @mxterfxciendo   )

lizzo vc I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE . TURN IT UP ! i think the kcu has been due for a new addition for a bit and what a fantastic addition pandora is . highkey completely blindsided by pandora when you replied to my eulalia starter before i even realized you were here but it was such a fun reply ! antonʻs ex - wife was such a fun wanted connection and i love what you chose to do with it . i love that you chose to make her a singer and a public figure . i love her personality . the energy youʻve already created in your writing with pandora is so cool to read : her adoration of her child , the incredibly tense conversation with anton , the FUNKY LITTLE DYNAMIC WE GOT GOING ON WITH EULALIA . so many sides to this character that we already got to see so quickly that i cannot wait to see what else you have in store for her ( and also rhea , of course ! )

𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑   𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑  -  𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘  (   @delefleur   )

jenna <333333 all of your characters are so neat and interesting but i will forever have a little soft spot for fleur . what we see of fleur in canon is so little of what she could be and you really do latch on to all the best parts of her and bring it to life . this girl whose inheritance is beauty and a lifetime of being underestimated . the knowledge that her mother warned her of it and the advice she gave fleur . your intro for her is so spot - on and a very cool take on the character . and sheʻs a healer ! strong women ! strong women , particularly , in a field that is often seen as more nurturing than anything ! she consistently got shit on in canon and i love love LOVE that we can all look at this version of her instead . i hope j*r chokes on it !

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐘   𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍   (   @witchbiitches   )

i have made one of these fucking edits for every single pansy we’ve gotten in this goddamn rp since i’ve been here and you know what ? this is it . this is the last one i will make because this one is my favorite . WHOO BUDDY ! i adore this pansy . i adore the backstory youʻve given her . i adore paloma and her mother and their father . pansy is so witty and charming and biting all at once and i cannot tell you how much her and blaiseʻs friendship mean to me . the idea of two children trained to be guarded being very deliberate in their vulnerabilities and choosing to let their guard down for one another ?? knocks me on my ass every time . she is a STUNNING character and i love each and every one of your characters , rachel , but pansy <33 PANSY <33333

𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐋   𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐊𝐄   (   @hoggleswart   )

listen . i think this man is so neat . what a funny little weirdo with weirdo friends . this white man can hold so much exhaustion . ziggy , i think i really enjoy your character voice . iʻm constantly blown away by your seamus dialogue and the way you write all of your characters . ezekiel is particularly interesting to me because i do love a character who remains on the fence of things . working both sides not for sneaky reasons but for self - preservation reasons is my favorite thing to see and i love this idea of ezekiel doing what needs to be done but still remaining very loyal to a particular group of people . iʻve been waiting for someone to take up the wanted connections youʻve taken up from the main and i think youʻve done an excellent job so far with them . i think your characters are so neat <3

[thecreedsgambit]

Sam Dalton, CEO

author's note: i’m not entirely sure what it is that draws me to sam, but i actually enjoy the nanny affair. despite my uppity claims that i would turn my nose up at the plot (which i, in fact, do) and that i would deny choices the satisfaction of spending endless amounts of diamonds on smutty, indecent scenes with a completely fictional man (which i, in fact, do not do), i cannot ignore my attraction toward sam dalton. it has little to do with his personality and intent. quite frankly, i blame it on the soundtrack. there’s a particular track that’s smooth - almost sexily playful - like a steamy but timid caress that throws a casual smirk at potential and possibility. i’ve grown fond of it, and, of course, it’s the very track that plays when sam freshly enters any scene. so, yes, i completely blame the soundtrack. it’s possible i’ve somehow drawn a loose connection between it and sam. whatever it is, i will continue to read tna and roll my eyes at choices seemingly unobstructed ability to rope me into whatever they present me with (much like sam dalton, i suppose).

"for you, i'll risk it all." - unknown

00. At a Glance.

affiliate: the nanny affair

pairing: m!sam x reader

word count: 1972 (fairly short, i know. but this was poking my imagination after today's chapter. i couldn't deny myself the freedom of writing it down.)

summary: you and sam continue to make eye contact during the regatta, despite your pr plan to lie low and ‘meet-cute,’ if that’s what an outsider might refer to it as.

You had long since forgotten the races. In fact, your eyes weren’t trained on the glistening yachts before you. Instead, your gaze latched onto the picturesque waterfront. The sun’s rays bore into the blue depths beyond where you sat, casting a faint reflection that rippled with every rise and fall of the tide. Slowly, methodically, as if your eyes might blink shut at any moment, you let your gaze lazily trace the waves as they lapped against the dock and collapsed against one another, like a playful fight between two warring siblings.

As if on cue, Mason and Mickey billowed past you with a giggling Jovi in their wake. Jordan scrambled after them, sending you an apologetic smile over his shoulder, before calling - rather, begging - for them to slow down. A short chuckle escaped your lips as you returned your sights to the race before you. Your head tilted, just slightly, as the sun cradled your cheek and warmed your skin with the softest touch.

It was nice. A brief moment to rest from the pressure to look and be impressive. For once, being impressed made a rush of tension leave your already heavy shoulders. The majestic waters and stunning views were enough to draw awe and calm the seemingly desperate need to feel warranted and respected.

Your dignity, poise, and grace sloped, only slightly, as you let your shoulders drop and your hands take refuge on your wrist as you fiddled with one of your bracelets.

For just a moment, you were you. And that was enough.

“No, please. Go on, Will.” Marisol’s voice nearly wrenched you from your stupor. You straightened and resumed your position as a subtle reflection of your new peers you’d almost forgotten sat on your right. Marisol gave you an amused smirk, as if hinting for you to join her harmless teasing. “Perhaps your ramblings about the history of yachting might help me place a few bets.”

Marisol took a small sip of her wine, hiding a whimsical smile behind the tip of her glass. Will only huffed and reluctantly turned his attention back to the race. You bit your lip in an attempt to conceal the grin threatening to lace your earnest expression. You feigned a swat on Marisol’s arm before speaking.

“Oh, Will. Marisol’s only joking. I would love to hear the rest.”

With a quick turn back toward the table, Will grinned triumphantly, clearly elated. “I knew it. At least someone appreciates my genius.”

“I’m sure,” Marisol mumbled, taking another quick sip of her drink to avoid bursting into a fit of laughter.

You dared to throw a sly smirk in her direction before giving in and facing Will directly. He’d already dove into several backstories regarding yachting, each going unfinished as he hurried into the next with enough excitement for the three of you combined. A genuine smile graced your lips as you, momentarily, reveled in his enthusiasm.

Unfortunately, much like your attention on the race, your attentiveness was short-lived. As was your politeness.

For a moment, your gaze slipped once more toward the luminescent waters. You had every intention of returning to the conversation at hand and concentrating on whatever quips Marisol was currently, and once again, uttering toward Will, but your eyes regarded the crowd, instead. Briefly, ever so quickly, you made eye contact with him - with Sam.

He had long since fixed his own sights on you. Normally, your heart would flutter and your stomach would lurch at the slightest glance. Reflexively, you’d wander toward him like a moth drawn to a fiery flame, waiting to be engulfed by his very presence. Even under these circumstances, you wanted to. You wanted to make your way toward him and let your fingers get lost in his hair; public images be damned.

But everything you worked toward thus far hung over your head and your shoulders - a load almost too burdensome to carry.

Your eyes widened with alarm, quickly flitting toward Will and Marisol. Not here.

Sam stood in a semicircle with three other men, who seemed to be lost in a conversation Sam took no interest in. His arms rested at his sides, and his fingers swirled a small glass of whiskey, as he continued his ruthless - almost challenging - stare. It didn’t take long for your demeanor to falter and a restless smile dared to break your masked facade. You tried desperately not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, so you looked away, forcing yourself to come to terms with the ever-enchanting thrills of yacht history.

Except that topic was long gone, and Marisol was waving her hand at a dismayed Will. “You say that every year. Placing a higher bet on Estate Sail hardly makes things any more interesting.”

“What would you propose, then?”

You couldn’t help but to lose focus almost as quickly as you'd gained it; your entire form now rigid under Sam’s steely gaze. Sparing a quick glance in his direction, you noticed he’d done little to disguise his observation of you. Slowly, painfully so, he brought his whiskey glass to his lips and took a slow drink. His eyes never once left yours.

It was intoxicating. Entirely too heavy. Your chest nearly felt hollow as your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach and heat rushed to your cheeks.

Your own stare fell to his chest, sweeping over his broad frame as you consumed every aspect of his person. The purple button-down he wore was quickly becoming your favorite as your eyes traced his taunt muscles under the fabric. His exposed chest seemed to catch the sprawling daylight as the sun chased his neckline and washed over his tan skin with every regard to the glow of his complexion.

Daringly, your eyes fell lower until you cautiously eyed his brown belt. You wondered just how quickly your fingers could trail over each and every loop and how any such movement might elicit a delicious sound from Sam’s lips. You even ventured to imagine one of his hands working the belt off in one, swift motion -

Your eyes snapped back to his. He arched one eyebrow, subtly, as a knowing smirk crossed his seemingly neutral expression. You wavered, feeling absolutely powerless under his scrutiny. Biting your lip, you pointedly angled away from him and desperately made every attempt to heed Will’s words.

Oh just how timely that was.

“I don’t know about that. I’m sure Steffi will take an interest eventually. What about you, (y/n)?” Will’s easy smile made you relax despite how quickly your startled heart raced. You struggled to remember the last thing you heard as Will shrugged. “I know I can be a bit long-winded, but I hope you’re enjoying the races.”

“Yes, you fit right in with us now.” Marisol gave you a genuine smile of her own. “Despite what some people may think, aren’t you glad you decided to join us today?”

You maintained a steady smile as you pushed pesky thoughts of Lana out of your head. “I am. Where else will I hear the harrowing history of yachting or place a wager on anything other than Estate Sail?”

“Hey,” Will warned good-naturedly, laughing despite himself.

Marisol noticed Jovi running after a makeshift sail the twins had tied to a string and shook her head with a warm smile. She and Will turned back to discussing their children and Sterling Academy as you chanced another glimpse of the crowd. Sam still stood firmly in his spot. The men surrounding him were pointing at the yachts in the distance and making idle conversation as Sam’s attention remained on you and only you.

He offered his counterparts around him a brief nod and a clink of his glass, but it was passive. Half-hearted. His eyes bore into you with enough passion to ignite the already kindling fire within your being. You were desperate. Completely at his mercy.

And utterly annoyed by how quickly you’d succumbed to his will. You wanted to prove your ability to do the same - toying with the inevitable long enough to make him flush with desire and writhe under all that you could offer.

You could do it from here; same as him.

Suddenly, shamelessly, your previously obstructed air bent to your change in attitude as you shifted to address his gaze. You arched an eyebrow as you matched his seemingly indifferent composure. You could tell he found your sudden roused behavior amusing, but his jaw quickly feathered as your eyes now held a challenge of your own: Two can play at this game, and I usually win.

Your sudden burst in confidence swelled your chest with enough boldness to dart out your tongue, wetting your bottom lip before pulling it between your teeth.

Some part of you wanted to make the conscious effort to tune into Will and Marisol’s conversation, but their distant chattering proved what you already knew. They weren’t paying either of you any attention.

Sam’s stare grew more intense; his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he watched your every move. With a coy smirk, you moved to pick up your wine glass at a leisurely pace that you were sure would seem like a lifetime to him. Even as the tip of the glass connected with your lips, you were sure to exaggerate every motion. One quick sip left a few drops of wine chasing the curve of your mouth. Using your finger, you wiped away the remnants and brought them to your lips. Your tongue flicked against your fingertip, closing your lips around it entirely, lapping up what was left of the wine.

All the while maintaining eye contact.

Finally, with a barely concealed chuckle, Sam dropped his gaze and shook his head. Every rapid rise of his chest and tense of his shoulders proved he was thoroughly distracted. Satisfied, you turned back to Will and Marisol. Both were watching the next race with an almost unexpected eagerness.

“I told you Estate Sail would win again,” Will stated happily.

Marisol only smiled. “The race isn’t over yet.”

Feeling superior still, you wanted nothing more than to continue your game with Sam, but, when you glanced back at his previous spot, he was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t help but to frown until Will’s eyes caught on someone behind you and called out:

“Ah, Sam. Care to join us?”

“Actually, yes.” You tried to quiet your usual disposition, avoiding any instinct to turn and gratefully accept his presence with unadulterated mirth. It wasn’t a hard thing to do. In fact, you had to shake yourself from your frozen, shocked posture long enough to glance over your shoulder. Sam stood close enough behind your seat that you could nearly feel the heat emanating from his being, rivaling even the sun’s warmth. “Do you mind -?”

You shook your head, not fully trusting your own voice but not fully committed to throwing away the careful and meticulous planning for your public appearance together either. You waved, feigning carelessness, toward the empty seat across from you. “No, not at all.”

Before he sat, Sam made it a point to glance at Marisol and Will before settling on you. “Does anyone need a refill on drinks? Perhaps another round before the next race?”

The two of you shared a soft, lingering look - one filled with knowing desire and bridled actions. You weren’t sure how you were able to retrain your urge to surge forward and grab him by his shirt collar or loop your fingers through his belt loop, or, even, how you had the strength to manage the rest of the Regatta with a practiced smile. But, then, a minute smile spread across Sam’s features.

Another coy smirk traced your lips as you shook your head. “I’m fine, thank you. Everything I need is right here.”

[horrorshow]

thanks for the tag @amill22 💕

nickname: suzy zodiac: scorpio height: 6'0"/183cm last movie I saw: i watched half of The Green Knight last week, but i still have to finish it last thing I googled: "kripke sam dean fight” which was a mistake cause it gave me every single bad take from the past 3 months but not the very specific interview quote from the early spn years i was looking for  favourite musician: if we go by all-time favorites i’d say Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, The Chameleons, The Sound, Slowdive, Breathless, New Order, Hole, Joy Division, My Bloody Valentine, Magazine.... rip to me for inheriting my dad’s music taste so most days im transported to the early 80s post-punk scene. song stuck in my head: love song by lana del rey (which has absolutely nothing to do with j[gunshot]) other blogs: there’s my other main @feestje and sideblog @jaimelannister which are my most active ones, so i consider myself having 3 blogs, butttttt *counts* i also have 18 (:/) sideblogs for personal use, mainly for reference/specific aesthetics, and there’s still a handful of dead fandom blogs im a member of.  blogs following: i follow 178 people on this account and 542 on my other one amount of sleep: aiming for 8 hours, but my sleep schedule is absolutely fucked rn so im happy if i get 6. lucky number: 11 what am I wearing: shorts, black tanktop dream job: i have a degree in film, tv and popular culture and a master in textual communication, so i thought my dream job was to be a writer/editor for a music/film website, but then i realized i have no ambition, hate competition and socializing, dont wanna work as a freelancer, and would ideally be at home alone immersing myself in art, books, music and film for the rest of my life without making it a job or having to think about work in my free time. i somehow ended up in a law job and it suits me fine.   languages: dutch, english and enough german and french to understand it play an instrument: i can play the first few chords of Come as You Are by Nirvana on guitar but that’s about it  favourite song: favorite song for doing WHAT? dancing? sleeping? i cant do this besties random fact: i left spnblr in 2014 and i truly TRULY thought ‘lets catch up on 6 years of spn so i can watch the finale live and be done with it’ and it wasnt until april this year that i caved and made this blog cause i kept hoping i would wake up normal (but i didnt and im glad im here<33)

tagging @breedablejohnwinchester cause i wanted to feel the rush of typing that, @rollthatbeautifuldeanfootage, @luminescent-chorus, @decadent-prince and @7minutesofsamdean if you want and haven’t done it yet<3

[tigerhart]

OFFICIAL ACE ATTORNEY LGBT STATUS

phoenix wright - bisexual trans man, chose the name phoenix for himself in like 3rd grade, you cannot change my mind about this

miles edgeworth - gay unfortunately cis dude that i am willing to gracefully bestow the label of demisexual upon. can also be trans if the mood calls for it but tbh we know von karma would not let a trans kid in his house

maya fey - lesbian. definitely nb. spent a significant amount of time worrying about her powers when she realized she wasn't a woman and is hyper-sensitive about it whenever she has difficulties

mia fey - bisexual trans woman you know it to be true. yes phoenix had a t4t respect-based crush on her for like a year before it began feeling weird yes she clocked phoenix at the doug swallow trial and thats one of the biggest reasons she took him under her wing

dick gumshoe - disaster bisexual, probably cis but we can respect him just as much as the normal characters

franziska von karma - lesbian. one of those (extremely valid) lesbians whose gender is lesbian. if she was ever asked the question "are you a man or a woman?" she would say she's a prosecutor. my evidence is that she is completely fine with gumshoe calling her sir, and also that she is a lesbian

kay faraday - bisexual transfem/nb. definitely either ironically or unironically identifies as crowgender (this is something i respect especially because she is 17 and well she is just very special to me)

lana skye - they LITERALLY told us that mia was """academically""" interested in her in college wtf of COURSE she's a lesbian

ema skye - u might be shocked to hear this from me but she's an ace lesbian. probably nb too but never actually explores it because it does not cross her mind she's got bigger things to worry about who cares about gender when you have luminol testing fluid

larry butz - token cishet. get him tf out of here. one of the first people to accept phoenix as trans and also uncomfortably transphobic sometimes it gets awkward

will powers - bear

adrian andrews - trans lesbian. you literally cannot tell me she wasn't in love with celeste that's fucking bullshit

diego armando/godot - bisexual. just fucking look at him