#where did my pigment go

[mothcrumbs]

why am i white.

[marikodraws]

Hello you beautiful wonderful human! I was hit by a bout of nostalgia this morning and I'm looking for a web comic of yours I used to read in the late 2000s/early 2010s. I think it was called the bright side? I remember really liking the way you played with color, backgrounds on the opposite end of the color wheel from the characters. I have searched in vain and I'm hoping you can point me in he right direction! Thank you I love you!

Hello! Wow, blast from the past. Bright Side almost feels like a past life to me now, but it means a lot to me that it's something people still remember and think about, since I put so much of my heart into making it. Unfortunately the original site has been nonexistent for awhile (hosting costs were about to triple, and i wasn't posting new comics anymore, so...). I've had the intention to set up an archive for it here on tumblr, but I keep getting waylaid trying to track down the files from some of the older ones. It is something I want to do though! Until then, here are some of my faves from the vaults 💖

[luvyeni]

PERSONAS ,, 이제노

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ jeno is surprised by your persona... both of them ヾ

PORNSTAR!이제노・ CAMGIRL!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ 6.4k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️ content warning... sex on film, rough-ish sex, oral sex ( M ), unprotected sex, facial

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 finally did a fic based on this photoshoot , doesn’t he look like a 80’s pornstar?

camgirling was only supposed to be something you did for fun, and the cash you got from it wasn't too bad either — you never expected to blow up like you did, the people really liked you.

when you first started it was slow, but that didn't last long and soon you gained a small following. it wasn't until you did a face reveal that you blew up — the fans loved you; that day alone you gained 100k new followers. from that day on you only grew more; more money rolled in which granted you the ability to move into a bigger apartment, pay off your debts and live comfortably without stress.

“it's your persona” your friends would say; you weren't shy about you did for work; you felt like you didn't need to be — no you weren't telling a stranger on the street you did camgirling , but you didn't hide it from your friends. “you're a walking porn trope.” donghyuck; your best friend said. “innocent girl next door look , but we all saw you deepthroat a 6in dildo without gagging.”

that should've offended you but you were used to it. “yeah , that pigmented blush bows and wide puppy dog eyes is cute and all, but it's that and the fact that you bounced on a 7in strap-on attached to a stuffed bear that turns people on.” ryujin said. “you have a face for porn.”

“is there a difference?” your friends looked at you. “duh , of course!” haechan said. “camgirling is mostly done in the comfort of your own home , low production.” he said. “porn is different, with porn there's a script almost like a movie with a crew , and another actor.” you and ryujin both looked at each other. “uh you seem real passionate about that…” he shrugged. “I'm a man of course i do , that's why i know you would be perfect for porn.”

“what would i get out of bad acting in room full of men with hardon watching me be badly fucked by another macho man on viagra and red bull?” you scoffed. “expect a sore clit and a cumshot to the face that tastes like battery acid?” ryujin looked around the cafe where you were sitting , making sure no one heard the conversation. “would you both keep it down?”

“more money, a new following.” he responded nonchalantly , your ears perked up. “go on.” you said now listening. “well the website you use now, it's big but it's niche , only a few new visitors monthly.” he started. “you do one porn video with a good actor with a good following , bingo! you get a new following from his following and it reaches a bigger audience who stumble across your video.” you had to admit although he was loud and you're pretty sure the sweet old lady walking past heard everything, he talked a big game.

“what are you a porn star scout?” ryujin laughed while taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “wait is that a thing?” he asked, you shook your head. “that does sound good, my rent just went up and there's a new pair of shoes that have been sitting in my cart.” you said. “yn don't do porn for a pair of louboutins and rent , get a roommate.” ryujin said, trying to be the voice of reason. “would you do it?” you asked her.

“i love you so i would never lie to you.” she said. “yeah , give me the script.” the three of you busting out into a fit of laughter. “plus if you don't like it then you can easily go back to camgirling.” she said. “and i don't think all male pornstars are bad.”

“and you know this how?” she looked at you. “you think i don't watch porn?” she questioned. “the acting? horrible but who's watching porn for the plot.” haechan raised his hand. “haechan be fucking for real.” you snickered. “what big dick delivery man and hot lonely milf is a work of art.” he said with a serious face. “oh he serious i think.” ryujin said. “that's the scary thing.”

“you know not all the acting is bad either.” ryujin spoke up. “yeah jeno is good even my dick gets hard when i listen to him speak.” you choose to ignore him. “who's jeno.” you asked. “you don't know jeno? the lee jeno, he's huge in the porn world.” ryujin said, you scoffed. “sorry im not familiar with the ryan reynolds of porn.” you said. “you think ryan reynolds would do porn?”

“lee jeno is a huge pornstar; he doesn't even just do porn , he's a model, he walks on runways as well , he's invited into classy spaces despite showing the world his dick.” the girl explained. “and i heard the girls he fucks on camera…” she said. “those orgasms are real.” haechan nodded in agreement. “i heard that too.”

“if you could get with him, you'd be set.” you rolled your eyes. “if he's as good as you say why the fuck would he film a video with me?” you scoffed. “pussy is pussy and money is money.” ryujin shrugged , the horrified worker walked past making the three of you laugh. “my god ryu , you sound like a man.”

“check him out; i swear you'll understand why he's famous.”

“come in , come in.” you flashed a smile to the camera; this wasn't a camgirl video, but a regular live that you sometimes did because your fans wanted you to — for what? you don't question, they pay you to just talk half naked. “how was everyone's day?”

you read through the comments; thanking the commenters for the donations. “what did i do today?” you read off. “well i ran some errands, got a few new toys.” you smirked. “oh and i had some coffee with some friends.” you said. “they told me i have a face for porn.”

the comments blew up with people agreeing. “i guess you guys agree as well.” you giggled playing into that act they loved so muched, reading more comments.

6inchking. what i would do to film a video with you.

user34.52. fuck yes , i would kill to see you fuck someone else.

allsizesmatter. you should film with lee jeno.

“oh? i keep hearing that name, my friends said the same thing.” you said. “is he really that good? maybe i should watch some of his videos.” you said, rolling your eyes at the comments that were in disbelief that you watched porn. “guys don't be ridiculous , why wouldn't i watch porn?” you laughed, grabbing your phone. “let's look him up.”

you typed into the search bar; waiting for the screen to load. “let's see if he lives up to what everyone says he is.” the screen finally loading, the most finest fucking man popping up on your screen. “oh he's really good looking.” you said scrolling through the many pictures. “really good looking.” you almost forgot you were on live — not only was his face godly , it looked like he was sculpted by the gods himself.

user24.52. look at her , already turned on just by his photos.

user22.63. to be looked at by her liked that.

“guys stop.” you giggled, cheeks red. “he is cute though.” you said. “im already so tired from the day.” you said; and yes you were tired, but you also wanted to watch on of his videos. “am i gonna watch one of his videos?” you smiled innocently , before shrugging. “i guess you guys will never know will you.” you blew a kiss to the camera. “bye bye.” you turned the camera off.

after that you wasted no time, climbing into your bed. your phone in your hand as you get comfortable, reaching over into your nightstand grabbing your rose toy; taking off your panties , pulling down your bra , sighing as the wind hit your nipples. “fuck.” you scrolled through jenos account— he had 5.5 million followers; way more than your messily 345k, he was a big deal.

you scrolled through his videos , settling on the most recent one. clicking the video — normally you'd skip the whole “acting scene” but this guy was known for his good acting so you decided to see for yourself.

you were a little bored at first, but as the scene went on you came to the realization that it was one of the best scenes you'd ever watched when watching porn, even though the actress was good , it almost seemed like regular video — besides the bright production lights and 4k hd cameras , and the fact that the beautiful actress herself was dressed in expensive lingerie and heels. her makeup done to the nines.

and then there was jeno; he was just as fine on video than in camera. his voice alone had you itching to touch yourself, which you did— fingers ghosting over your nipples; eyes closing. you almost forgot about the video, until you heard moaning. you opened your eyes to jeno sticking his cock into the girl. believe it or not , you weren't fucking just anyone , you actually only had sex with a few people , but their sizes compared to his were vastly different.

you understood why he was so famous; jeno was extremely good at his job. it was like you were watching a real couple fuck in their bed; jeno was rough; but not like those horrible videos where it looked like the girl wasn't enjoying it — the way the actresses eyes were crossed, it looked like she was very much enjoying it.

you curled your fingers up into your g-spot, thrusting your fingers in and out of your dripping hole. your moans , jenos and the actresses filled your empty room. you wanted to drop the phone and just finish already, desperate to cum , but you couldn't, it was like you were in a trance. the actress came with a loud scream. “oh fuck.” you moaned as jeno brought the girl to her knees , cumming all over the girls face — lord how you wished it was you.

your legs crossed over your hand as you came, back arching off the bed. “fuck!” you sighed as you came down from your high , the next random video playing on your phone. you turned it off , desperately trying to catch your breath. he had this effect on you and all you did was watch his videos.

getting up to clean yourself off; washing your body and your hair. getting out , drying off. you threw on an oversized shirt not bothering to put on underwear, it was just you. grabbing a snack before making your way back to bed to watch tv.

meanwhile a few miles away; jeno sat in his chair scrolling through his feed. he hated night shoots , everyone was tired and ready to go home. the actress today just wasn't good , her acting sucked , she was bitching about everything; how she hated the script; how the outfit was ugly — how she wanted him to cum. he was all for women wanting to what they wanted , but damn how was it his fault he wasn't turned on enough to cum as much as she wanted.

“jeno?” his manager and best friend jaemin , walked into his dressing room. “is it time to go?” he said, not looking up. “well … no, she's still complaining, something about you being too big.” jeno smirked. “so we're figuring that out now.” he said. “can we just sat fuck this shoot and go home?” he said. “im doing them a favor, i don't need the money.” he said. “yeah sure.” jaemin said. “what can they do?” he told the assistant on hand to tell them they were leaving. “what did you want?” he said, putting on his sweats. “when? oh to just show you this.”

he pulled the sweatshirt over his head; taking the phone from his friend's hand. “what am i looking at, who is this girl?” he stared at the screen , watching you talk. “she's cute , new girlfriend?”

“i don't date, she's a camgirl.” he scoffed at his friend. “her?” he looked at you once again. “stop fucking around her?” you looked so innocent, dressed like a doll , cute makeup, cheeks extremely pink from blush, normally jeno thinks that makeup look is crazy, but you made it work. “she doesn't even look like she's seen a porn film.”

“not everything is what it seems my friend look.” he clicked another video— and he swore he was watching another girl. “did she just?” jeno was shocked. “yes , she did.” his friend smirked while he stared in shock as he watched you take a 9in toy down your throat without gagging. “no gag reflex , if she has a boyfriend he's a lucky fucking bastard.”

jeno pushed the phone away; not that he didn't want to see it, but he also didn't want to cum in his pants to a video in front of his friend. “why are you showing me this?” he said. “you know i don't do camming.”

“yeah , but people want you both to collaborate. apparently she talked about you today and the internet is going crazy.” jaemin said. “she has good following , not as big as yours , but that shouldn't even matter , bro she doesn't have a gag reflex , i’d do it for fun.” jeno picked his bag up, slinging it over his shoulder. “does she even have a manager? does she even want to do porn? why am i asking the questions that i pay you to already have answered before coming to me?”

“she's a independent artist i think, but I'm sure she'd answer a dm.” jeno lifted his eyebrow. “yeah , because she'd answer a random message asking her does she want to do porn , bro she gets those messages daily.” he said. “im sure i could work it out.” he said. “well then come back to me when you do.” jeno slapped his friends chest. “now let's go im hungry.” he said. “i’ll send you that link to the full video , you have to see it.”

“which one did you watch?” haechan asked. “why are we having this conversation right now?” you said cheeks red. “you've literally told us about how you — the recent one.” you interrupted ryujin before she embarrassed you. “i watched the recent one.” she nodded. “oh that one is good, that actress is hot.” she said , hyuck nodding in agreement. “she is.”

“she was, they both were.” you said. “and the acting was good , i actually watched it.” haechan pointed. “told you sometimes the plot just hits.”

“i thought i was watching a couple fucking, either one , that actress is in the wrong business or two , he's a good fucker and she wasn't acting.” you said. “she actually looked excited for him to cum on her.” you could still hear the moans playing in your head. “okay snap out of it , no one wants to watch you get turned on in public.” ryujin said , haechan scoffed. “speak for yourself.”

you laughed , your phone buzzing making you break away from the conversation; it was a message from twitter dm. you ignored it , thinking it was a normal everyday dm from a fan. you sat your phone down only for it to go off multiple times. “girl you got a boyfriend we don't know about? who the hell is texting you like that?” ryujin picked up your phone. “probably a weird fan, im gonna close my dms”

that didn't stop ryujin from clicking the messages, ready to troll the person. “oh girl , i don't think so.” she handed you the device back. “what is it?”

reading through the text messages. “what is it , don't leave me out.” haechan whined. “it's from jenos manager.” ryujin said , haechan sat up from his seat. “what let me see.” he snatched the phone. “oh my god , jeno wants to film with you.” he said. “it's like the porn gods answered us.”

“must you act like a neanderthal? it's probably a fake account.” haechan clicked the account. “it's verified and there's pictures of them together , they seem close.” he said. “he wants you to call him , he gave you a number to call.” he gave you back the phone. “oh my god let's go back to yours so you can call.”

they basically dragged you back to your apartment after that, forcing you to call the boy. “you both have to shut the fuck up if i put it on speaker.” you said typing down the number into the keypad. “probably about to call a random guy just so he can jerk off to my voice.” you pushed the call button. “don't you do that already.” you scoffed. “yeah but i get paid for it.”

the three of you sitting around the bed waiting for them to answer. “hello?” you picked up the phone. “is this na jaemin?” you said. “yes is this yn? i know your voice— wait, not like that.” your two friends snickered. “it's fine, i almost didn't call you, i thought you were a weird fan.”

“understandable; it's probably a weird text , but it me and everything i sent was true.” he said. “it is?” your eyes widened. “s-so he really does want to film with me?” you asked. “yes , he does.” you wanted to squeal , but you didn't want to seem desperate. “oh that's cool.” you said. “oh that's cool?” ryujin whispered to herself. “shut up.” you gritted through your teeth. “excuse me.”

“oh nothing.” you said. “oh okay, well first thing, we set up a meeting with you both.” he said. “just so when you film it won't be too awkward , then we film.”

“that's it?” you said. “that's it , you both show up to film, we'll provide everything else for you.” you looked at your friends who nodded their heads. “how does that sound?” he said. “i guess that's fine.” you said. “great! i’ll let him know, are you free tomorrow?”

“tomorrow? uh yeah sure im free.” you said. “great i'll send the address where to meet us see you tomorrow!” you hung up the phone. “oh my god i can't believe that just happened.” you tossed the phone down on the bed. “this is crazy , you get to film with lee jeno.” haechan said. “i almost want to be in your shoes.”

the next day you got ready for the meeting; putting on your best outfit — so you wouldn't feel so nervous, and maybe to impress them a little. jaemin had sent you the address the night before and lucky for you it was in walking distance from your place. “im almost there's , so I'll call you back when it's over.” you said the restaurant in your view. “you better and be careful , just cause there hasn't been a serial killer porn star, doesn't mean there can't be one.” ryujin ordered. “okay im here.”

you quickly said your goodbyes, before hanging up. you reached for the door , walking into the restaurant. you looked down at your phone, ready to send the man a text when someone tapped your shoulders. “yn?”

“oh hi.” you smiled. “i was just about to text you.” you put your phone away. “you're right on time , jeno is over there.” he said “let's go.” your hands were sweating from nerves as you approached the table , the man himself coming into view. “don't be nervous, he's not as intimidating as he looks on camera.” he said. “jeno.”

the boy looked up from his phone; and he almost did a double take. you really didn't look like what you did for work; gorgeous? yes. but he just couldn't see you doing what he saw you do the night before. “oh shit.” he stood up. “hey.” he said , holding his hands out. you reached for his hand , shaking it. “h-hi.”

“both of you sit down , sit down and get comfortable.” jaemin said. “before i give you some space , let's go over the details.” he sat down. “okay.” you smiled.

jeno didn't need to listen; jaemin would just repeat it over for him — instead he just looked at you, studying you. he watched you fiddle with your nails while listening to his friend intently. his eyes traveling down to your lips, biting the bottom one. “jeno?” jaemin knocked him out of his thoughts. “what?” he watched you shuffle in your seat. “i said you understand all that?”

“yeah , yeah i do.” he said. jaemin knew he didn't , but he'd explain later. “we filming on wednesday, it will only take one day , but it's a all day shoot is that fine?” you nodded. “of course.” you said. “that works for me.”

“good , now i'll give you both some time to get to know each other.” he stood up. “i’ll get you both some food as well.” he walked away. “thank you.” you called out, it fully hit you that you were left alone with jeno again , he smirked watching you shy away once again. “i guess this is the real you.”

“h-huh?” you asked , he sat up; putting his elbows on the table, watching you. “the bows really do change how one would look at you.” your hand came to your head. “no , keep them in , don't take them out.” your hands immediately went to your lap. “cute.”

“me-me?” you gulped. “is anyone else sitting there love?” your cheeks were flushed , to jeno it was like your already pink cheeks were now red. “here you guys go.” jaemin came back with two plates. “i ordered enough steak for you to share , and some pasta.” he said. “i’ll leave you two , jeno play nice , she's perfect for this and we don't need you scaring her off.”

“go ahead.” he said. “eat.” you picked up the fork nervously, picking up a slice of the meat. “now put to your mouth and eat it.” it felt like he was gonna eat you alive , you put the steak to your mouth , biting it. “good girl , i can already tell im gonna like you.”

“so tell me , why'd you want to do this?” jeno asked. “do-do what?” you asked. “do I need to spell it out baby , porn what made you want to do this?” he said. “most camgirls stick to that.” you sat the fork down , taking a sip of water. “well it's kinda stupid.” you said , he waved you off. “tell me.” he said. “well my friends told me i’d be good at it.” you said. “and you just listened to them?” he raised his eyebrows. “you must agree with them.”

“i guess.” you said. “i didn't really understand what they meant by that.” he sat back listening. “i do.” he really did , truth is jeno spent the night before watching your past streams , and fuck did you put on a performance. he had to force himself to put his phone down before he started shooting blanks , his hands and his cock covered in his cum as your moans played over and over on his phone. “well why do you do it?”

“me?” he asked , shrugging. “because i like to fuck.” he laughed, watching your eyes widen. “don't look so surprised baby it's really not that surprising,” he said. “i like to fuck and i like making money , why not do both?” jeno never wanted to be a pornstar , his main dream was to be a model , turns out it wasn't that easy — but it was easy to pick up a camera and film himself fucking. “b-but you're a model , you don't need to do this.”

“you're right i don't , but here we are.” he eyed you up and down , eyes shamelessly stopping at your bust. “just like you.” he said. “y-yeah.”

“you've watched a few of my videos haven't you?” he asked. “i watched yours.” you wanted to lie , but how could you when he was being so truthful. “a few.” you gulped. “so you know im not gonna go easy on you right?” the way he talked so confidently it sent shivers down your spine. “but im sure you can take it right?” your body hot. “i mean im bigger than what you've taken but im sure you can learn to take it right?”

“i can take it.” you said, quickly covering your mouth. “yeah? let's see on thursday.” he bit his lip. “give me your phone.” he said. “here.” you handed it to him. “you listen well , i fucking love that.” he typed down his number. “i don't give my number out to every actress.” he said, handing you your phone back , jaemin returning back to the table. “we have to go soon.”

“that's too bad , we were just getting to know each other.” reaching for your card. “relax , im paying.” jeno said. “i-i have money.” you said. “i'm sure you do , but i didn't ask.” he said. “yn do you need a uber?” jaemin asked, but you were too busy making googly eyes at jeno. “oh no , i-i live a few minutes away.” jaemin nodded. “well it was nice to meet you , why don't you head out first and we'll stay behind and settle this.” you smiled. “thank you.”

“just show up on wednesday as you are ready to film.” you nodded. “of course!” you smiled, about to walk away when jeno grabbed your hand. “your phone love.” you took it from his hands. “thank you.” and just like that , the boys watched you leave out. “you done making googly eyes?” jaemin said. “can i take you home so i can get to my date?” jeno rolled his eyes. “hey don't get upset with me, nothing stopped you from following behind her and getting a pre show of wednesday.”

wednesday came quick; you have a busy few days before — you wanted everything perfect , getting your hair done; waxing your eyebrows and other areas. you hadn't used the number jeno gave you , scared to use it , even though your friends encouraged you too. “you're about to have his cock inside you , this phone call would be nothing.”

still you didn't budge; it probably didn't even bother the boy, he could've easily called someone else.

the production had arranged for a car to pick you up from your place to take you to a location; you read the script on the way there , it was a simple script since it was your first project on this scale — something about neighbors. it really didn't matter to you, you were excited but nervous. “we're here miss.” it was an actual house; a nice one.

you got up to the car , thanking the driver. “okay.” you said to yourself. “let's do this.” you said, the door was open so you just walked in , people running around, cameras and lights everywhere. “you must be yn?” a woman came up to you. “hi?” you said. “you are?” she smiled. “im kim , I run the production company that films the videos jeno is in.” she said. “you do?”

“yes i do; is it a little weird because im a woman?” you shook your head. “no of course not!” you said she laughed. “we're all about comfortability, to make sure you and the actor are both comfortable.” she said. “jeno is already on set , he's normally never here early.” she said. “actually he's normally late.” she said. “but enough about him , let's get you to your dressing room.”

she guided you to your room, opening the door. “this is your first shoot so i wanted to make sure everything was perfect.” she held your back guiding you in. “we have a stylist that will help you , along with make up who will make you even more beautiful.” she was extremely nice. “thank you so much.” you said. “don't worry about it , just get relaxed and ready to film some scenes.” she said. “the stylist will be in here soon , make-up as well.”

she left you alone after that , you looked around the room , she laid out a display of snacks that made you smile — your phone ringing , you took it out of your pocket , furrowing your eyebrows at the unrecognizable number. “so your phone does work.” you recognized the room , whipping around. “je-jeno.”

he walked into the room. “it's been a busy week.” you said. “yeah?” you nodded. “you aren't wearing the bows today,” he said. “gonna tell the stylist to change that.” you nervously took a step back. “i like the bows , let's put them in the movie.” you nodded. “ok-okay.” he was close enough to smell his cologne. “relax , im not gonna bite.” he said. “at least not now.” you squeaked as he pressed against you. “later im not promising anything.”

“i could definitely take you right here right now.” he confessed. “give you a quick training on taking me before later.” he said, his body looming over you. “but i kinda want to wait until later.” he smirked , your knees almost buckling under you. “let's wait until later, yeah?” he said. “ye-yeah.” you sighed in relief when he stepped back , finally letting you breathe. “i’ll see you in a bit love.”

you didn't have time to process what just happened before the stylist and the makeup artist both shuffled in. “out jeno out we have to get her ready.” he was quickly pushed out. “gosh.” the stylist said. “he's never here this early all of sudden he's early.” the makeup artist turned to you. “well there's the reason right there, you are gorgeous.” you smiled. “th-thank you.”

“let's get you ready.”

the outfit wasn't much different from what you normally wear , just a lingerie version meaning it was much shorter; so short you could see your ass , poking from your panties — but it was still cute. “you look pretty.” the stylist said, picking up the bows. “per jenos request, hope you don't mind.” she placed the bow in your hair. “done.”

they left , kim returning soon after. “you ready.” you nodded. “let's go.” she guided you to the front where the scene would take place , the cameras ready. “yn , hey.” jaemin said. “oh hi.” you waved back. “you look nice , you ready?” you nodded. “i'm a little nervous , this is much different than my room.”

“don't worry about it; it's your first big production.” he said. “just do your best.” he reassured you. “jeno is done with make-up so we should be starting — five minutes!” someone shouted , you giggled. “in five minutes.” he said. “good luck.”

“the scene starts with you in the kitchen.” the producer guided you to the kitchen , leaving you alone. you leaned over the counter , scrolling through your phone while you waited. “you look too good right now.” jeno caged you in between his arms. “th-thank you , you smell nice.” it just slipped out your mouth. “oh , i-i di-didn’t — you smell nice too.” he said , your cheeks were already red enough. “makes me want to eat you up right here.” he didn't know how much he really was effecting you , anymore of what he would be doing and you'd be begging him to fuck you right there. “okay actors , get in position!”

“good luck princess.” he walked away, leaving you to pull yourself together and get ready for the scene. “are they actors ready?” everyone got into position. “okay, rolling in 5…4…3…2…1 , start !”

the scene went exceptionally well; it was build up scene that leads up to the actual sex scene — but even those scenes were hot and heavy; at least jeno made it like that. it took a few hours to film , making sure to get every angle. “okay great, the next scene jeno you what to do.”

jeno didn't know if he had it in him; the resistance as the camera guy yelled for the scene to start again — the strength to hold himself together once he got his lips on you; he was a professional, but with you it felt like his very first scene.

“you can do what you want.” you spoke up , back into character , you were a natural — almost like you were talking to him outside of character. “what did you say?” he said , damn near forgetting his line. you looked down at your fingers. “to me , you can do what you want to me.”

there was the girl from the streams; it flicked just like that; your other persona , the one from the restaurant that told him you could take it — and he was about to put it to the test. “i can?” his big hand wrapping around your neck. “you don't know me that well but you'd let me do what i want to you?”

that was basically your current situation with the man; yeah you had only met him four days ago, but you'd let him do whatever he wanted , on and off camera. “y-yes.”

“that's real whore like of you.” his hand squeezed your throat. “real whore like.” he said, slamming his lips against yours. unfortunately the scene took place on a couch so he didn't have much room to work with , but it didn't mean anything to him — besides he'll just fuck you into your mattress on another day.

the kiss was rough; his hand squeezing your throat as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. “fuck.” he cursed, pulling away. “get on your knees.” he pushed you down , the camera close to your face as he unbuckled his pants. “gonna fuck your face.” he pulled his cock out , it was definitely bigger than the dildos you were use to. “hey.” he slapped your face. “come on, be a good whore and suck my cock.”

he grabbed the base of his cock , slapping it on your cheek. “open slut.” he shoved his length inside your mouth , and much like your previous streams , you took him into your throat without gagging. “yeah , fuck swallowing my fucking cock like that.” he groaned , holding the back of your head moving you up and down on his thick length , also moving his hips. “cock sucking slut , how many cocks has this throat taken?”

he was using your mouth; the cameras all there filming it turned you on even more , the many people watching in the room as he fucked your face made you hornier. “yeah fuck!” he had to force himself out of you so he wouldn't cum fast. “get up.” he pulled you up , throwing you to the couch. “ass up, now slut.”

he pulled the dress up , revealing the matching color set they put you in. “dumb slut is wet from sucking cock.” he slapped your ass , you moaned , he pulled your panties down , your folds covered in your slick. “messy pussy , gonna stuff you full of my cock.” he maneuvered your body on the small couch. “arch your back.”

he pushed your head down on the couch seat. “gonna make you take it all at once.” your whimpering turned into screams as he abruptly shoved his entire length into your pussy. “hell you're fucking tight.” he groaned , pulling out slamming back inside. “fuck!” he began to fuck into you , holding the back of your neck. “such a whore.”

his thrust were brutal and unrelentless; the camera catching everything — his cock stretching you out more than you've ever been, the squelching sounds from your cunt it was embarrassing, having people hear that ; but the embarrassment soon was forgotten as he went deeper. “my fuck -oh my- oh my fucking god.”

he let out a lust filled chuckle. “so stupid baby.” he slapped your ass. “my cock really made your brain turn to mush.” he abruptly pulled out of you , slapping your ass , your legs shook. “turn around.” he flipped you on your back.

you looked up at him with teary wide eyes. but he could see the lust in them. “that innocent look doesn't work on me.” he slapped your cunt. “i can see through whores like you.” he lined his cock up with your hole. “innocent looking but ready to take any cock they can get.”

this new angle had you reaching for anything , jenos arm; the couch cushion — his cock had you grabbing at the air. he pulled down the front of the lingerie , your tits now bouncing along with his thrust. the rumors proving to be true as you felt your orgasm approaching. “you're clenching around me , fuck your pussy is suffocating my cock.” he growled. “fuck im gonna cum!” you screamed out. “cum slut , wet my cock with your cum.”

he had your legs open wide , holding your shaking thighs. “cum.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, soaking his stomach and the seat below you. a high pitched moan coming from your mouth as he kept going. “fuck keep cumming on my cock.” he slapped your poor clit rubbing rubbing it. “yeah im gonna - fuck - im gonna cum.” he groaned. “fuck im gonna cum all over your face.”

he pulled out of your twitching hole , standing over your face , stroking his cock. the camera was up close again as he came — and he came a lot. he groaned, throwing his head back as he covered you in his seed. “fuck.”

you laid out on the couch , his thumb still rubbing at your clit as your reached your final orgasm , your thighs shaking uncontrollably. “cut!”

jeno almost forgot about the camera; ready to bring you to another orgasm. “je-jeno.” your shaking voice pulled him from his horny state. “shit im sorry.” he pulled away , desperately wanting to taste you. “almost made you squirt again.” he smirked. “now how would we explain that? because the camera is off.”

“get her a cover.” he shouted , someone running over to you both , he covered your body. “jeno.” they handed him a robe. “you did so good.” the staff handing you fluids. “felt like watching a couple have sex , you're a natural girl.” you nodded with a smile. “are you a natural princess?” jeno spoke up once they were gone. “or is it because those screams were real?”

you lowered your head , shying away from his gaze. “don't hide from me now , i know your real persona , and these cameras maybe done rolling, but i'm not done with you yet.” he whispered , just as you were pulled from your seat by a staff member and whisked back to your room. “you ready to go?” jaemin came over. “no need to drive me home tonight,” he said. “why not?” asked Jaemin.

“because im not going home tonight.”

©️LUVYENI

[uluvjay]

Transfer proof- L. Norris

Lando Norris x Influencer reader!

In which a makeup brand sends you a lipstick that claims to be 100% transfer proof and you need your boyfriends help to put it to the test

Warnings?; making out, hints to sex/oral, can’t think of anymore

Part of my 1k celly :)

“Hi guys! Today we are trying this liquid lipstick from the Brand Lynn’s beauty! This liquid lip claims to be one hundred percent transfer proof, vegan, and cruelty free!” You started smiling at your phone that was being held up by your tripod.

“I am going to be wearing this throughout the day and putting it up to multiple different test.” You explained.

Opening up the lipstick you gave it the basic smell tests, before applying.

“There’s no fragrance which I like, and it’s a beautiful red color so I’m very interested to see if it’ll actually hold up to its high claims! You smiled.

“I’m going to be putting it up to a few test! One will be how it lasts while eating, the second will be with drinks, the third will be how pigmented it stays through the day, and the last is to see how it lasts with kissing.”

You give a small goodbye and stopped the recording for the clip to be later added into a whole video, and set off the find Lando for his help.

“Lan baby?” You called to the man as you entered the living room.

“Yeah?” He smiled at the sound of your voice.

“I need your help with a video” you asked giving your best puppy eyes.

“Nope, not again. You’re not staining my face with whatever crap you have this time” he denied at the flashbacks of the last time you had brought him in for help.

“But I promise you’ll like this one!” You tried but all he did was shoot you a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m being serious, it includes one of your favorite things” you smiled as you sat next to him.

“What is it?” He groaned dramatically.

“I need you to make out with me” you spoke

“You need me to make out with you?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah! And it’s not funny, I’m trying to test out a lipstick and I need to find out if it’s kiss proof.” You explained

“Oh baby, you should’ve just said that in the first place. I’ll never turn down getting to kiss you” he smiled as he sat all the way up and pulled you onto his lap.

His hands immediately slipping under his shirt you sported as you made yourself comfortable on top of him.

“Thank you” you smiled.

“Anytime baby” he softly replied before dipping down and pressing his lips against yours.

You two sat like that for a while, lips attacking each others while his hands ran from your hair down your body and yours ran through and tugged on his soft curls.

All was well until you could feel him beginning to grind his hips up and his hands move up your back in attempt to unclasp your bra.

“Lando!” You scolded as you pulled away from him.

“What?!” The boy laughed

“I asked you to kiss me, not fuck me” you depended.

“You’re literally on top of me kissing me like your life depends on it! What did you expect from me?” He whined as you once again smacked his hands away.

“To not be a horny little shit for once” you laughed as you got off of him, not caring to mention the lipstick that had in fact transferred and now covered his lips.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To make lunch and test this lipstick out other ways” you called out behind you.

“But babyyy, I have plenty of other ways for you to try it out” he whined, getting up and following you to the kitchen.

“I’m not giving you head Lando!”

-

[sansaorgana]

— STILL PURE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Feyd yells at his daughter for interrupting him at work. His wife confronts him about his behaviour as she tries to explain to the little Countess that her father was never taught how to express love.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Feyd is already the Baron in this fic but I assumed women cannot inherit on Giedi Prime so the daughter is "only" a Countess while her younger brother is a Na-Baron. I used my headcanon that if half-Harkonnen children have hair, then they're white because they lack pigment. I also wanted her to have big black Harkonnen eyes so badly... Basically, I wanted Feyd's daughter to look like this:

WORD COUNT — 2,990

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL PURE

Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was circling around the big table in the conference room where the huge orb of Giedi Prime had been replaced with Arrakis’ one as one of his advisors was explaining the difficult situation regarding the spice production. The new wave of Fremen rebels who worshipped the long gone and deceased Muad’Dib decided to continue their idol’s legacy as they sabotaged the spice production controlled by The Harkonnen forces. The Governor of Arrakis was slowly losing control over the situation and Feyd would rather avoid going there himself. He was needed on Giedi Prime – especially now when The Emperor was on his deathbed. He had to be around in case something important would happen and everyone knew The Baron had his eyes set on the Imperial Throne. Feyd had to choose a new Governor of Arrakis or provide the current one with good advice, hoping for the Fremen problem to disappear soon. It was worrying him because it was giving him a bad reputation at the moment for having problems on Arrakis – it could make some leaders of the great houses to think he was not worthy enough to become the next Emperor.

Feyd’s hands were clasped behind his back as he circled like a shark and all his advisors looked down, taking a step back whenever he approached them. They knew his temper would only rise when he was angered whenever he would experience problems of such nature when it came to reigning over The Harkonnen properties.

“What does the Fremen leader say? Stilgar? That was his name?” Feyd barked at one of the scared advisors.

“Stilgar says he has no control over the cultists. He does not support their actions. He wants nothing but peace, my Lord,” the man bowed his head.

“How bad is it? The most important thing so far is to keep the problem on Arrakis a secret,” Feyd hummed to himself.

“Five percent of the decrease in the spice production income,” the other advisor answered. “Not bad, but can be noticeable in the amount we export.”

“We shall export some of our own private reserves to cover the loss. In the meantime, we have to deal with the cultists,” Feyd decided, already annoyed at the fact he had to sacrifice his own supplies just to cover up the careless governing of Arrakis which was not his fault. “Send more troops there, the operation should be classified confidential. Threaten Lord Volonov to take care of it. He’s got a month before I replace him with someone more capable…”

Quiet pat pat pat sound coming from the corridor was becoming louder and louder until the black doors finally opened slightly and the guard standing by them spotted a pair of two big black eyes staring up at him. 

“My Lord,” he tried to catch The Baron’s attention but Feyd had his back turned on him as he angrily explained the details of the operation to his advisors.

Little Countess Sevina Harkonnen gave the guard puppy eyes as she struggled with the heavy doors. She wanted to come inside and he didn’t know what to do. He was aware that his Lord Baron did not want to be interrupted but he didn’t want to close the door in the girl’s face either. He peeked outside but there was no servant around and The Baroness was not there either. He decided it would be better for the girl to come inside instead of letting her roam around the fortress alone.

She smiled widely at him and jumped inside the room happily as her white hair bounced. She was lucky enough to inherit most of her mother’s looks although her skin was paler, her hair lacked pigment and her pupils were nothing but two completely big black orbs – those were the eyes even her father did not have but they were a result of the pollution her mother’s body had been exposed to on Giedi Prime at the time of her pregnancy.

Not realising how tense the atmosphere in the room was, she approached her father as all the advisors and servants were making wide eyes at her. She stood behind The Baron and pulled on his shirt to make him turn around.

At first, he flinched at the odd feeling of someone pulling him. Who would dare to do that? He turned around quickly with an angry expression on his face but then he looked down and spotted his little daughter. She startled a bit at the sight of his annoyance but she kept staring at him with her big black eyes filled with love and excitement.

“What are you doing here?” Feyd barked at her.

“Can you play with me, daddy?” She pleaded with a big grin.

A few lords smirked at that and Feyd’s jaw clenched. Not only had she interrupted him but also humiliated him.

“Can’t you fucking see that I’m busy?!” He lashed out at her and she took a step back as her eyes filled with tears and betrayal. “Get out of here!” He pointed at the doors.

They opened at that very moment as the nanny entered the room and looked around, surprised at the sight of scared faces and the little Countess being in the centre of attention.

“There you are!” She opened her arms at the sight of the girl. “I’ve told you not to interrupt your father, he’s in the middle of a meeting,” she reminded nervously as the girl ran up to her and hid her face in the folds of her skirt. “Forgive me, my Lord,” the nanny bowed her head at Feyd-Rautha.

“You’re useless,” he drawled. “Get out.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” the woman held Sevina’s hand and walked out as quickly as possible.

You left the nursery where your son na-baron had just fallen asleep. On your way back to your chambers, you passed by the doors leading to your daughter’s room and you froze at the muffled sound of sobbing. Concerned, you decided to enter without knocking.

Little Sevina was crying on her bed as the scared nanny tried to calm her down by rubbing her back and shushing her.

“What is going on?” You asked as the doors closed behind you.

“M-my Lady Baroness,” the nanny stood up and straightened herself to bow down slightly.

“What happened? Why is she crying?” You asked her in an accusing tone.

“I… I lost her out of my sight when we were playing earlier today, I’m sorry… I found the young Countess in her father’s conference room. She had interrupted The Baron during a council… I think he lashed out at her, my Lady…” the woman tried to explain nervously as her hands shook.

“You’re useless,” you sighed and she widened her eyes. “Get out, I’ll deal with that myself,” you pointed at the doors and she bowed down once again before leaving quickly.

You approached the bed and sat on the edge of it as Sevina raised her head to look at you. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the sight of her cheeks covered in tears.

“What happened, sweet darling?” You asked her gently while you caressed her back.

“Why doesn’t daddy love me?” She asked with so much pain and sincerity in her tiny, shaky voice that you nearly cried yourself.

You knew it wasn’t true. Feyd-Rautha loved his daughter. Even though he had been a bit disappointed she was not a son in the beginning – he had only said not to worry about it much; that the boy would come next. He had been treating Sevina as if she was made of glass in the first months of her life, so scared of accidentally hurting her because hurt was all he knew.

“Oh, Sevina, don’t think that…” You sighed and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Daddy loves you so much,” you assured her but of course she wasn’t convinced. “He would kill and die for you, little girl,” you added.

“I don’t want him to kill and die for me, mummy,” Sevina sobbed as those were the concepts she was too young to grasp. “I just want daddy to play with me.”

“He doesn’t know how to play, Sevina,” you fixed her ruffled hair while trying to explain calmly. “He didn’t have a mummy or daddy when he was your age. The way I kiss you or hug you and play with you… He has never had it, darling,” you felt a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You were angry at your husband for yelling at your daughter and making her feel unloved but you were also angry at all the suffering that he had gone through in his past.

There were scars and damages that could never be undone, no matter how much you loved someone.

“And you’re big enough to know that daddy shouldn’t be interrupted when he’s working. You know that he tends to get angry more easily then,” you reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted daddy to play with me,” she snuggled closer to you and you kissed the top of her head, rubbing her tiny arms with your thumbs and cradling her softly to calm her down.

Feyd had been back in your chambers already when you entered. You froze at the sight of him, irritated. However, he seemed to act as usual.

“Five percent,” he snapped at you, although not angrily. “We will have to replace the loss with our own supply so the other lords don’t realise we are expecting problems on Arrakis. That stupid son of a bitch Volonov can’t handle a few cultists and…”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you interrupted him and turned your back on him to approach your vanity table and sit by it, pretending to be more interested in reapplying the powder.

“What?” Feyd was visibly surprised as he watched you in disbelief. You had always been a support for him, especially in difficult times. You both had been plotting on how to take over the Imperial Throne and now you weren’t interested in something as important as the problems with harvesting spice on Arrakis? It didn’t make sense to him.

You ignored him and focused on brushing your hair now, watching him from the corner of your eye in the reflection of the mirror of your vanity table. He approached you, hesitantly.

“What do you mean you’re not interested?” He tilted his head as he leaned in, trying to intimidate you but you didn’t even flinch.

“I’ve just spent an hour calming down Sevina. You yelled at her,” you eventually looked up to look deep into his eyes. He took a deep breath in, irritated.

“She should have learnt by now not to interrupt me,” Feyd straightened his back and walked away. “She’s spoiled,” he added. “Knows nothing about discipline. It’s your fault.”

“She’s a little girl,” you turned around. “You can’t expect military habits from her. She’s your daughter, Feyd.”

“She’s lucky I only yelled. If I interrupted my uncle as a child like that, I’d be punished!” He raised his voice at you, frustrated that you were defending your daughter and making a problem out of something that he considered to be normal.

You hated it when he would raise his voice at you. You stood up angrily and yelled as well.

“Oh, so you think she should be raised the same way you were?!” You asked. “Alright then! Go to her room, grab her by the neck and flog her back with a whip just because she wanted to play with her father!” You pointed at the doors furiously as your eyes were burning with wrath. “Go on! I dare you.”

But Feyd didn’t even move. His jaw was clenched as he was staring at you speechlessly.

“Go. What are you waiting for?” You kept pushing him. “Go on.”

You kept looking into his eyes with so much intensity he eventually gave up and looked down, awkwardly as the guilt started to creep in. You won.

“You rejected her. She thinks you don’t love her,” your voice calmed down but it was still vicious. “And I was assuring her that you do but it felt as if I was assuring myself, too,” you added, just to hurt him. “I can’t stand to look at you, Feyd-Rautha,” you drawled and approached the doors to leave him alone but not without striking the final blow. “I can’t believe I wanted to give you children so badly,” you turned your head to look at him as he looked up, surprised at your words, “because you don’t deserve them.”

The doors opened in front of you and you walked out to go back to your daughter.

You were sitting on the black fluffy carpet in the middle of Sevina’s room. She was on your lap, with her tiny arms around your neck, cuddling you. There were toys scattered all around the floor but she wanted to take a break for the loving cuddles. She was very unusual for a half-Harkonnen and you were very aware of the fact she was making most people around feel uncomfortable.

Not only her father but everyone in the fortress were stiff around sweet little Sevina who was so full of life and curiosity, always wanting to hug everyone – even servants and guards. Wherever she went, there was a sound of laughter and a sudden feeling of warmth. Countess Sevina Harkonnen was the very first little girl living in that fortress in a long time and she was so different from all its inhabitants. She was too young to know that she was a daughter of Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen – a man feared all over the Empire. That her bloodline was cursed with death and violence. She was still pure and innocent. Perhaps she was a living proof that The Harkonnens were not born this way after all – but they were made in the endless cycle of abusive upbringing. You did not want the same fate for her. You knew she would have to get rougher with time but you hoped she would still remain gentle, too.

The doors to her room opened and you looked up. At the sight of your husband, you protectively put your arm around your little girl. You doubted that he wanted to do what you had angrily suggested before but you wanted to make sure he wouldn’t anyway. Sevina stiffened at the sight of her father and clung to you. It brought you pain to realise that at that very moment she was afraid of him.

“Sevina, we have to talk,” Feyd stood above you two as he started in a serious tone. You gave him a scolding look and your little girl hid her face in the crook of your neck, hiding. “You know perfectly well not to interrupt me while I’m working.”

Long silence occurred. You could see Feyd’s struggle as he had no idea what to do to fix this situation between him and his daughter.

“Sevina, apologise to daddy,” you looked down and she looked up with tears in her big black eyes. “You shouldn’t have interrupted him and you know that, darling,” your voice was soft and calm and she sniffed.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Sevina turned her body around to face him but she refused to look at him.

“Now, you apologise to Sevina for being mean,” you looked up at your husband and you spotted panic in his eyes. “Now,” you insisted sternly.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you,” Feyd crouched down to be on her level. She hesitantly looked at him. “Can I get a hug, too?” He asked and his voice broke a tiny bit. 

Slitting someone’s throat open was less awkward and unusual to him than to ask for a hug. Your heart ached for him but you were an adult capable of understanding his patterns. Sevina was not. 

Her heart was big, though, and she loved her father, so she would forgive him everything. She nodded her head with a happy smile and ran into his arms to squeeze him tight. Tears pricked your eyes at the sight.

“I love you, darling,” Feyd whispered quietly with his cheek pressed to the top of her head. “I would kill for you. I would die for you,” he confessed.

“But she doesn’t want any of that,” you explained. “She just wants you to spend time with her.”

“Is that right?” He looked down at his little girl and she looked up with her puppy eyes as she nodded. Her tiny hands reached out to cup his face.

“I love you, daddy,” she assured him. “Can you play with me?”

“I don’t know how to play, I’m sorry,” he admitted with guilt in his voice.

“I will teach you,” she hugged him again.

Feyd put his arms around his little girl and pulled her closer. You crawled on the carpet to give him a hug, too. You could feel that he was slightly trembling, so you leaned in to place a kiss on his temple as your hand caressed his head soothingly.

“It’s not weak to show affection,” you reminded him in a whisper. “I’ve never loved you more than when you are like this.”

Feyd laid his eyes on you. They were filled with a mix of pain, guilt and relief. At the end of the day, the only approval he was seeking was yours. You had him wrapped around your little finger.

“So, how do you want to play?” He asked Sevina as he caressed her white hair with admiration. She clapped her hands cheerfully.

“I want to be a Princess,” her eyes sparkled. “And you’ll be my guard.”

Feyd chuckled at that, showing off his black teeth. Sevina giggled as she had never found them scary.

“Soon enough, my darling one, you’ll be a real Princess,” he assured her.

MASTERLIST

[moonstruckme]

hey maee! your version of remus is such a comfort- i metaphorically kick my feet and squeal every time it’s hurt/comfort lol. i have a weird(?) request so no pressure at all but could you maybe write one for doctor remus with a reader who easily spirals over health? like a tiny bruise appears on her arm and she’s genuinely scared it’s cancer kind of freaked out. and he just sits her down and explains whatever is going on in very simple words, because it’s obviously a regular source of anxiety?

Thank you for your request sweetheart!

cw: health anxiety

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 462 words

Your worry grows like a tumor as you scroll on your phone. Pigment, size, sensitivity, it’s all there. You twist your neck around, peering at the spot on the back of your arm. 

“What is it?” Remus asks from the other side of the couch. 

You turn back around, giving him an apologetic look. “I have this weird spot on my arm. Can you look?” 

“No, you’ll have to make an appointment.” If you weren’t already skilled at detecting your boyfriend’s deadpan sort of teasing, his little smile would give him away. He sets down his book and beckons you closer. 

“Joking,” he confirms once you’re near enough, kissing you softly on the shoulder. “Where is it?” 

“Here.” You show him, turning your back to him and trying to point. 

Remus hums, taking your arm gently in his grasp. “When did this show up?” 

“I’m not sure. I didn’t notice it until just a minute ago.”

He presses down lightly. “Does it hurt?” 

“Mhm,” you hum anxiously. “I read that skin cancer spots can hurt like that, and it’s sort of discolored and big too. Do you think that’s what it is?” 

For a moment, Remus is quiet. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m fairly sure it’s not cancerous.” 

Relief and skepticism war in your gut. “Really? Why?”

Your boyfriend’s other hand coasts up your opposite arm, moving across your shoulder to settle on your chest. Heavy and grounding. “I think it’s a bruise,” he says calmly. 

“A bruise?” You turn your head to look at it again. Your neck is starting to ache from the strain. 

“That’s what it looks like. You probably only got it yesterday. It’s relatively small, did you back into any corners or anything like that?”

“No, I don’t…” 

“Think back.” 

You do. And when it comes to you, you want to hide your face in your hands. “Oh.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I hit it on the corner of a drawer yesterday.” Your anxiety starts to abate, embarrassment taking its place. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Remus lifts your arm a bit, slouching to touch his lips to the spot. “You only jumped to conclusions a bit. Are you still worried about it?” 

“No.” You scoot backwards until you’re propped against his chest. “Not now that I remember where it came from.” 

He hums, rubbing his hand over your clavicle soothingly. “I know you get anxious, honey. You’ve been doing better at managing it lately, though. I’m proud of you.” He presses a kiss to the back of your head. “Do you want a distraction for a little while?” 

You consider it, settling in against him. “Tell me what your book is about?” 

“Oh, that’s an hour-long distraction at the least,” he jokes. “How much do you know about Appalachia?” 

[liv2post]

Fever Dreams (One Shot)

I wanted to do a sick-fic one shot and saw a couple mutuals floating around how a sick Severus Snape would behave, so here is my version.

@frequent-apple

Summary: Severus Snape comes down with an infamous man cold and you take it upon yourself to nurse him, as you always have. While having a fever dream, he confesses his love for you.

Word Count: 4.5k

Read on AO3 here

“Severus?” You knocked on his chamber door. “Are you alright?”

The potion master hadn’t shown up for breakfast this morning and missed a meeting scheduled with the other Heads of Houses and the Headmaster. Minerva had asked you if you knew where Professor Snape was, you and the dungeon bat were known amongst the teachers as being closer to one another than anyone else. Just when you were about to tell her ‘no,’ an owl swooped through the corridor and perched on the Transfiguration teacher’s arm, a small slip of parchment paper in its mouth that said one word: “Sick.”

And here you were now outside of his chambers, worry needling into you as the professor had now missed his second meal of the day. 

“Go away…!” You heard from the other side of the door, muffled and strained as a coughing fit followed.

“Severus, it’s me, Y/N.” There was no response this time, not even coughing, and instead of waiting for another curt dismissal you pushed open the doors to his chambers and stepped inside. 

Severus, who was slightly hunched over and trudging toward his kitchenette in an attempt to make himself tea with a blanket wrapped around his form, glared at the door when he heard it open and shut. A sheen of sweat had built on his forehead and it looked as though he hadn’t slept well, the pigment beneath his eyes a bit darker while his paleness was even lighter. His bones ached with each step he took in the cool dungeon air.

“I did not say you could come in,” he growled at you, though his eyes had slightly softened at your presence. You, however, looked back at him with just as much sternness, for you knew that right now he was all bark and no bite. Severus Snape was going through his infamous man-cold.

You’d known Severus for a long time, and both of you were from the same house, though you were one year younger than him. The two of you had bonded the following year after the untimely demise of his relationship with his former best friend. With both of you being the best brewers in your years, he held a mild level of respect for you and willingly offered you advice for your OWLs while he focused on his NEWTs. On top of this, the both of you were prone to injury, often treating yourselves or one another, that is when you managed to get Severus to let you. While he was picked on or got into fights, your injuries accumulated from Quidditch matches or simply practicing too hard. Being the only girl who was let on to the Quidditch team, you felt the need to prove yourself, especially when the other teams targeted you, deeming you as a weakness. Fortunately, that did not stop you from helping Slytherin win.

Once more, you were attempting to help the man since you returned into his life as a colleague four years ago, both of you now in your early thirties. Having known him for so long, you knew what was to come of this. Severus would go through three moods when he was sick. Stubbornness, whininess, and clinginess. It was a very predictable cycle as you were always the one to help him when he was sick. Once you get past his stubbornness, it will be easier to help him.

“I’m aware,” you simply replied back, stepping forward. “I was with Minerva after you missed the staff meeting. We both saw your owl. Consider yourself lucky that it is me down here and not her.”

Severus scowled to himself and turned his face away, his hair curtaining his expression. “I’m fine,” he grouched.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’re the absolute peak of health right now. You should totally be on the cover of Witches and Wizards Weekly.”

“I’m. Fine,” Severus snarled. “I don’t wish to be bothered, so kindly return to whatever other duties you have.”

“Severus, you missed both breakfast and lunch and you look like you just rolled out of bed. You’re not fine. You need food. Potions. And perhaps a ba—”

“For Merlin’s sake, woman!” he snapped defensively. “I’m not some sniffling weakling who will perish as if I’ve come down with the black plague! I don’t need your incessant worrying and mollycoddling! It’s bad enough I have to deal with this congestion, must I deal with you too? Leave!”

His outburst caused a tickle in his lungs to trigger another coughing fit into the crook of his elbow. You simply crossed your arms, face impassive as he stood there, abashed at the ill-timed coughing fit. This was nothing new for you, however. This was just the beginning of dealing with a sick Severus Snape.

“Are you done?” you questioned calmly, like a mother waiting for a child to finish up with their tantrum. “I’m not here to take away your autonomy, Severus. As always, I just want to help and I am not leaving until I get you better. The only way you are getting me out of here is by wrestling me through the doorway, and we both know I’m stronger than you at the moment.”

The man clenched his teeth, seething at your unwillingness to let him take care of himself as he scornfully swept back to the kitchenette to make himself tea, not wanting to deal with you at the moment.

You summoned his house elf, palming her the instructions to a soup recipe you had in mind when you heard Severus was ill. It was a soup that had always made you feel better when you were sick.

While Severus worked on making his tea, you idly examined the state of his office. By the looks of the papers and scrolls strewn about his desk, he had much grading to do this weekend. There was no way he’d be able to put a significant dent in it while in his current condition. Slipping quietly into his bedroom, you observed the way in which the covers were thrown eschew. A sweaty silhouette was imprinted on his sheets from where he laid fever-stricken, the duvet layers too much for him to handle with pajamas on. Crumpled tissues littered the bedside stand and you could see a thermometer that displayed his last recorded temperature around 102. With a wave of your wand, the used tissues vanished into nothingness, and a cleaning spell was applied to the surface of the nightstand. In a few minutes, you managed to get a new set of sheets onto his pillows and mattress and swapped out the duvet cover for a different one.

When you returned to the living area, he had just lowered himself down onto the couch with a mug carefully clasped in his hands and sniffing sharply every few seconds. Just then the house elf apparated in front of him, carefully placing the soup on the coffee table and disappearing once more. Severus cast a disparaging look at the meal before shifting that look to you.

“Chicken noodle,” you stated. “Eat it. It’s good for you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Severus derided.

You kept your tone forbearing as you moved toward his personal brewing station and opened various cabinet doors. “I know.” Bottles clinked against one another as your hand snaked between corked vials and remedies in search of head-ache relieving potions. When you found the ones he had in stock, you sighed when you saw that they were expired by now. Muttering to yourself, you begin to retrieve various ingredients.

“What are you doing with my potion ingredients?”

You didn’t look at him as you gathered a few brewing tools and filled a cauldron with water. “Eat your soup, Severus.”

His nostrils flared at you, nose scrunched up in both offense and defiance as he childishly refused the soup. However, he couldn’t help his rumbling stomach in any other way, the consequence of not eating his first two meals worsening his headache and making him feel more tired. You had positioned yourself so that you’d be brewing while facing away from him, hoping that it had the intended effect of encouraging him to eat while you had your back turned.

And to your relief, it had worked as a minute or so later you heard quiet slurping from behind you.

Your hands moved in rapid succession, finely chopping, grinding, and peeling various ingredients before plopping them into the cauldron. The sounds emanating from the brewing station were symphonic within the quiet office, you the conductor as you arranged and controlled them to your precise liking. You’d made a headache-relieving solution for him before, the usual symptoms of his colds being achy bones, shivering, congestion, and a headache. Severus remained slouched on the sofa, bowl of delicious soup, though he refused to comment so, resting on his stomach as he watched your figure working away at a potion. Based on what he could tell from the ingredients you had retrieved it looked to be something for his headache.

“Cold…” you heard muttering from behind you.

You did not take your eyes off your work. “You or the soup?”

“...Me.”

Flicking your hand behind you, a wandless ‘Incendio’ lit the fireplace, the flames roaring to life. While the heat wasn’t going to help his fever whatsoever, it would placate him and his shivering as you suspected he had now breached the whiny stage. 

Severus tugged the blanket around him tighter and shifted along the cushions toward the fire. “What’s taking you so long?” he grumbled.

“It needs to simmer,” you informed him softly. He glowered at that, his eyes following you as you disappeared into his bedroom once more.

In one of the bathroom cabinets you found a bottle of eucalyptus oil that you were certain would help with his congestion. With a few squeaky turns of the faucet handle the bath began filling with lukewarm water, not enough to eat him but just cool enough to help bring his temperature down without causing too much discomfort. The air quickly smelled like eucalyptus when the oil drops began to intermingle with the water. You adjusted the temperature slightly the more it filled up into the bath was full, the surface swirling ever so subtly with the oils and a thin layer of foamy soap from a small amount of body wash you added.

The potion was ready when you returned, feeling daggers thrown your way from Severus’s stare. You ladled some into a cup for him, turning around and looking at him expectantly. “Come and get it.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Just bring it over to me.”

You shook your head, saying, “No. You’ve got to get up anyway to get into the bath after you drink this.”

Severus rolled his eyes, exhaling in irritation before he, with some effort, was able to push himself up off the sofa and walk over sluggishly to you. He took the cup from you and eagerly guzzled the freshly brewed concoction, his head feeling a bit lighter within a matter of seconds of swallowing the potion. 

With a delicate touch, you gently placed a hand on his back and guided him toward his bathroom with, thankfully, no resistance on his end. 

“It’s filled up already. I put a bit of oil in there to help with your congestion. Holler if you need anything. Otherwise, try to stay there until you get too cold. I’ll be out in the living area.” 

The door to his bedroom clicked and he was alone once more. He sniffed heartily, slowly undressing from his pajamas which felt quite gross against his clammy skin, and was greeted with the smell of eucalyptus when he opened the bathroom door, the fragrance soothing his stuffy nose and relaxing the persistent tickle in his chest. As carefully as he could manage, he stepped inside the tub and lowered himself, sighing at the warmth of the temperature.

Being alone in the tub left him with nothing but his thoughts, sinking himself lower until his hair just barely touched the surface. For as long as he could remember he had always taken care of himself, refusing help from others as he did not want to be seen as weak. But, no matter how much he rebuked you, you’d always find a way to help, even if it was something as small as placing a bandaid on a cut when he had nicked himself with a potion’s knife in his seventh year. You were always so determined to help when he was indisposed and he was always determined to refuse even though you had a perfect record so far of pushing past his stubbornness and scaling his wall of self-preservation. No matter how big of a grumpy asshole he was to you, you had so much patience for him. Deep down he was immensely grateful for it.

When the water turned cold and he felt the shivers return, he pulled the drain plug and rose from the bath. Just the feeling of being cleaner improved his mood, even more so when he found a set of soft lounge clothes and socks waiting for him folded neatly on his bed.

His bed that now had a fresh pair of cool, clean sheets and a different duvet cover.

Your ears perked slightly at the sound of Severus’s bedroom door creaking open as you set aside another graded Potions paper. While he soaked, you had received a fever-relieving potion from Madame Pomphrey, organized his desk a little bit more, and started to tackle the assignments that needed grading. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was light, much calmer now in comparison to his sharp mulishness earlier. You ignored his question as soft footsteps approached you. 

“How do your sinuses feel?”

“They have improved,” he replied faintly.

“And your head? Chest?” He gave you an affirmative hum in response. Without looking up from the papers, you held out the potion to him. “Madam Pomphrey sent this. It’s a fever-reliever that should help regulate your temperature with a little bit of cough syrup mixed in there.” 

He took the potion from your hand and tipped the contents back into his mouth, setting the empty bottle by his workstation. A dull cooling sensation spread in the center of his forehead. You could feel his eyes settle back on to you, anticipating his clinginess to kick in at any moment now seeing that he was in a better state mentally and physically. 

“What are you doing?” Severus asked once more, placing a hand on the back of the chair, his fingers pressed against your shoulders. 

“A bit of your grading since you’re in no state to be doing so. You should be resting.”

“I won’t be able to fall asleep with that bloody soup in my stomach now,” he complained quietly.

“I didn’t say sleep, I said rest. Grab a book or something and go read in bed. I’ll be here if you need something.”

Dissatisfaction lapped at him, his lips pursing in indignation as he no longer wanted to be separated from you by a room. As if a switch flipped, his mind sought for you now, wanting you close, wanting you to care for him. His fingers moved forward, his whole hand settling on your shoulder.

“N..x t… m...” His voice was practically a whisper. 

You smirked coyly into your palm, but you did not show your cards. “What was that?”

His ears grew warmer and it wasn’t the fever’s doing. “Grade next to me,” he murmured. “In the bed.” You feigned a sigh, which made his fingers twitch in apprehension but was relieved when you pushed the chair back and stood up, grabbing a stack of papers with you. 

The two of you settled in on the bed, him beneath the covers and you on top. He had a little difficulty breathing through his nose when lying on his back, so he opted to lie on his side, facing away from you with a book levitating in front of him. Even though he couldn’t see you, knowing you were there and feeling the dip in the mattress behind him made him feel more relaxed, so relaxed in fact that almost half an hour later, you heard the sound of the book unceremoniously hitting the ground and soft snores coming from him. He had fallen asleep.

Time ticked on as you looked over paper after paper, the scratching of your quill and Severus’s occasional mumbling filling the air. You suspected he was having a fever dream, stirring every so often and quietly uttering incoherent words and phrases. You’d place a hand on his back to calm him, silencing him for some time before it started up again. At one point, he pushed himself up on his elbows and shifted on to his back, looking about the room like he was confused.

“Severus?” you said, seemingly gaining his attention. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t respond. His eyes were barely open, fluttering as he looked dumbly at you. You deduced that he was in a half-sleep state, probably still dreaming. What shocked you, however, was what he did next. Severus had shifted onto his other side so that his body was facing you, wrapping his arm around the middle of your thigh and spooning your leg with his forehead nuzzled against you.

“...love you…”

His soft snores filled the air once more. 

A sinking feeling of sadness filled your chest. “His words weren’t real. He is having a fever dream,” you told yourself. You had believed there was no possibility of him loving you, no matter how much you wanted it. His heart had died with Lily. He loved her so very much and you had heard from Slughorn a few years after you had graduated that Severus was a wreck when she had passed. You remember sending Severus letters wanting to meet only to never hear back from him, resourcing to find out how he was doing through others. 

After the first two years of being reunited with him, you fell in love. Though loving Severus Snape was like loving a defensively feral cat that was also whorishly attention-seeking, his attempts at veiling his perceived vulnerabilities amused you and you found his wit charming. Despite the friendship the both of you had reignited, you kept your feelings down when they had developed into something more, convinced that he would never love you in return.

So… With a heavy heart, you accepted this disingenuous expression of closeness and continued grading.

***

Severus scrunched his eyes, inhaling sharply as he slowly roused from slumber. He was met with the covering of a pillow, his arms wrapped around it tightly. Rubbing the bleariness from his eyes, he looked at the other side of the bed. Though you were no longer there, the evidence of your sitting there with him was pressed into the top of the covers. His chest tinged with sadness at your absence.

Faint shuffling noises echoed through the slightly ajar bedroom door. When he stood up from the bed, he found his headache and lung irritation to be nearly gone, though he still felt a bit warm in the head and his nose was still a bit stuffed.

He entered the living area and his heart fluttered when he saw that you were still here in his office.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice much less hoarse than before.

You thanked the house elf that had brought you Severus’s dinner before it disapparated. “You’ve been asleep now for about two hours. How do you feel?”

“Better,” he replied, but his brows knitted together at your somewhat dispirited tone. You did not show your face, instead choosing to gesture to the food that had been set on the coffee table. “I had a house elf bring you dinner. Since you are feeling better, I think it would be best if I tended to my other duties now,” you said, raising the butt of your palm up and wiping at your face, but Severus was not dimwitted. Even from behind, he knew what that movement was. You were wiping away a tear.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked softly, carefully approaching you.

“I’m fine. I’ll have Madam Pomphrey send you another fever reliever before you go to bed tonight.” You began to move toward the door. “Feel better, Severus.”

“Wait!” he strode across the room and grabbed your wrist, just firm enough to get your attention as your other hand froze around the door handle. “Y/N… Please, tell me what’s wrong.” His eyes flit over you, concern lacing his voice as he slowly rotated you so that you were facing him. Your eyes were indeed red from crying, though your gaze was averted to anywhere but him.

“It doesn’t matter,” you muttered. “It’s not something you could fix.”

His hands moved up to your shoulders, squeezing lightly. “If… If it's something I did…please tell me. I know I’m…not the easiest person in the world to deal with…so I’m sorry if I’ve worn you down or offended y—”

“You said you loved me.”

The revelation felt like a slap to the face, his breath hitched in his throat, a cold shock flooding his veins as he stared back at you with widened eyes.

He said what?

You swallowed thickly. “I doubt you even remember. You were having a fever dream and mumbling to yourself. At one point you rolled over, looked at me and said that you loved me before falling back to sleep.” You paused, allowing him the chance to say something, but he was silent and tense. His reaction, or lack thereof, further squashed your courage and you tilted your head down even more. “I know you didn’t mean it for me,” your voice warbled now. “I’m sure you were dreaming of Lily or your mum. You loved Lily like she was the only being in the universe, so you don’t have to worry about me misundersta—”

The next thing you knew your face was buried in the crook of his neck, his strong arms wrapped around you. The tears rolled down your cheeks unbidden but you restrained yourself from sobbing, your throat tight and achy. “Please don’t pity me, Severus,” you said weakly, not quite believing the sincerity of his action. “Don’t pity me or offer me platitudes… I can’t…”

“I don’t pity you, I love you,” Severus gritted out, trying to fight the shakiness in his own voice as he felt like crying as well. He buried his nose in your hair, attempting to ground himself with your sweet scent. “I… You’re right, I do not remember saying that to you, but I was dreaming of you, Y/N.”

You inhaled shakily. “You were?”

“Yes,” he murmured, the thumb of the splayed hand on your back stroking back and forth. “You were taking care of me in my dream. I do love you, so much, Y/N. Even though I don’t deserve your affection in return. I know I’ve taken your compassion for granted for quite some time.”

Your mind was still reeling from his confession. He loved you…and you loved him… Your arms slowly rose and wrapped around his back as you pressed yourself into him more, reveling in his hold. He sighed into you, feeling a heavy weight off his shoulders. “I don’t blame you for thinking I didn’t return your hidden feelings,” he murmured. “Lily’s death was hard on me and I didn’t think I’d love again, but truthfully, I haven’t thought of her in years. You’ve plagued my mind ever since you returned to Hogwarts.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, drawing you back so he could look at you once more. His hand came up and cupped your cheek, swiping away at a stray tear. Heat bloomed on your face when you saw the longing in the deep, inky pools of his eyes staring back at you. They flicked back and forth between your lips and your eyes and when he slowly leaned in…

“Severus,” you said, stopping him by placing a hand on his chest, knowing what he wanted to do. “You’re still sick,” you proclaimed gingerly.

The man groaned in frustration, but the last thing he wanted to do was to get you sick as well, opting to instead rest his forehead on your shoulder, the resulting giggle from you a soothing balm on his soul.

“Please, stay,” he pleaded quietly.

Your fingers traced through his scalp. “It wouldn’t be wise to inhale the same air as you overnight, Sev.”

“Just until curfew then.” He held you tighter, emphasizing his want for your presence as he began shuffling the both of you toward the sofa.

“Alright,” you hummed, pecking the spot above his ear. “Until curfew.”

***

“Goodbye, everyone! Make sure to review the last two chapters before class tomorrow.”

A new week of classes had begun and Severus seemed to have gotten over his cold by then as you saw him walking about the corridors despite not attending breakfast in person. When you saw each other during lunch, the both of you made an attempt to sit beside one another, but Flitwick had unknowingly put that wish to rest when he took the other remaining seat beside you. It was the end of your final class now, and the students filling out the door one by one. You sighed quietly in relief when the last student exited and began to tidy up the classroom. A crumpled ball of parchment here, dirty shoe prints there…

Twenty minutes later, you heard a knock on the heavy wooden door just as you sat down to get a jump on grading papers with a steaming mug of tea.

“Come in,” you called, taking a generous sip.

The door opened and there stood your previously needy patient, his dark silhouette filling the doorway. The sight of him made your heart flutter as he slowly stepped into the classroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.  

“Hi, Severus,” you smiled lightly. “I was a bit worried this morning. You didn’t show up for breakfast.”

“I felt a bit dizzy this morning, so I elected to eat in my office,” he explained mildly. “Otherwise, my cold has cleared.”

“Oh, that's good! I’m glad you’re better now.” 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you. The potion master didn’t move forward, only shifting his weight from foot to foot like a nervous schoolboy, as if he needed permission to do anything else than that. Adorable.

“Severus…” spoke lowly with a gentle smile and stood up from your chair, holding your arms out in a ‘come here’ gesture. That seemed to be enough encouragement as he strode forward, each step more determined than the last. He brought your face to him, eagerly pressing his lips to yours. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, returning the kiss with equal fervor. One of his hands moved to the back of your neck, keeping you there he stole kiss after kiss from you, years of pent-up affection and love flowing between the both of you. You felt him smiling against your slips before the both of you broke apart for much-needed air, resting your foreheads against each other as he mumbled.

“Thank Merlin for fever dreams.”

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MAKE UP ARTIST : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None just pure cuteness :))

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: As Hugh Jackman's personal makeup artist and costume designer, you're used to working closely with him on set. But when you're tasked with applying makeup to his shirtless chest for a scene, the professional barrier between you starts to blur. With each brushstroke, the tension builds, and what begins as a routine makeup session turns into something far more intimate—culminating in a sweet, unexpected kiss that changes everything.

Based on this request.

YOU SHUFFLED THROUGH THE PILE OF BRUSHES, prosthetics, and small jars of pigment spread across your workstation. Today’s shoot was going to be an intense one. Hugh, the leading man, was going through another round of makeup tests for the action scenes, and your job was to apply the simulated cuts and bruises on his torso. Normally, this would be a typical day in your career as a makeup artist and costume designer—nothing you hadn’t handled before. But Hugh Jackman? Shirtless? That was a whole different level of focus required.

You rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. Hugh was charming, down-to-earth, and professional—completely unaware of the effect he had on people, including you. It didn’t help that the studio had turned the AC down a notch, and you could already feel your palms sweating.

“Hey, sweetheart, you all set?” Hugh’s voice called from behind the changing screen. You glanced up just as he stepped into view, dressed—or rather, undressed —for the scene. His sculpted chest was on full display, the smooth lines of his muscles catching the soft light filtering through the studio windows. His hair was still damp from the shower, and you caught a faint whiff of fresh soap as he moved closer to your station.

You swallowed, clutching your makeup brush a little tighter. “Y-yeah, all set,” you stammered, cursing yourself internally for sounding so flustered. Professional. Stay professional.

Hugh shot you a friendly grin, running a hand through his damp hair as he sat down in the makeup chair. “Ready for you to work your magic,” he said, leaning back casually.

You took a deep breath and moved closer. The first task was to apply some subtle bruising along his collarbone and ribs, where his character had taken a nasty hit. “Okay, just relax for me,” you murmured, dipping your brush into the blue-purple palette that would create the illusion of injury.

As you started applying the makeup, you couldn’t help but notice how perfect his skin was. Despite all the intense action sequences, stunts, and training he had done over the years, his skin was smooth and warm under your touch. You tried to focus, but the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was distracting—very distracting.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, dabbing the first bit of color near his collarbone. Your fingers brushed his skin as you worked, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Yeah, feels great,” Hugh said, his voice warm and relaxed. He tilted his head slightly, giving you more access to the area you were working on. “You always do an amazing job, by the way. The makeup and costumes—everything just comes together because of you.”

You froze for a second, your brush hovering mid-air. Did he really just say that? A warm blush crept up your neck, and you quickly looked away, focusing on blending the makeup to hide your sudden embarrassment.

“T-thanks,” you managed, keeping your voice steady. “I’m just doing my job.”

Hugh chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Don’t sell yourself short. Everyone on set talks about how talented you are.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you refused to let it show. You focused on your work, brushing over his ribs and trailing down toward his abdomen, where you needed to add more detail. The proximity of your hand to his toned abs was making your mind wander, and you could feel your pulse quickening.

“Hold still for a sec,” you murmured, trying to mask your nerves with professionalism. You stepped in even closer, concentrating on the bruising near his ribs. Your breath caught as your fingertips brushed his skin again, and for a brief moment, you swore you felt his muscles tense slightly under your touch.

Hugh shifted, tilting his head to look at you, his eyes filled with curiosity. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You blinked, startled by the sudden gentleness in his tone. “Yeah, just making sure everything looks right,” you said quickly, focusing on the bruise you were blending on his chest. But when you glanced up, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

His gaze lingered for a moment before he smiled, a slow, easy grin that sent warmth flooding through you. “You know,” he said, his tone playful but somehow... thoughtful, “you always seem so focused when you’re working. I admire that.”

Your cheeks burned, and you could only nod in response, not trusting yourself to speak. His compliment felt personal, like it wasn’t just about your job anymore. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your hands steady as you worked your way up to his collarbone again, adding the finishing touches to the makeup.

“You’re all done,” you said, stepping back and forcing yourself to take a deep breath. “What do you think?”

Hugh glanced down at his chest, examining the realistic bruises and scrapes you’d applied. “Wow, that looks incredible,” he said, his admiration clear in his voice. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

You smiled, relief washing over you that he was happy with the result. “Glad you like it.”

He stood up, stretching slightly, and you tried not to stare as his muscles shifted under the lighting. “You’re seriously talented, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes meeting yours again. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a makeup artist as good as you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, the sincerity in his voice leaving you speechless for a moment. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft. “That means a lot.”

Hugh’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you in the quiet of the studio. Then, with that same charming smile, he added, “I mean it. You make coming to set the best part of the day.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe working with a shirtless Hugh Jackman wasn’t as nerve-wracking as you thought—maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

Before you could respond, you noticed Hugh stepping closer, his warm gaze locked on yours. There was a moment of hesitation—just the smallest flicker of uncertainty—but then he leaned in, his hand gently brushing your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Hugh whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

And before you could think, before you could even comprehend what was happening, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and so, so tender. The world seemed to stop for a second as you kissed him back, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest.

The kiss was sweet, slow, and utterly perfect. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless and smiling like a pair of fools.

“You’re full of surprises,” you whispered, still in awe of what had just happened.

Hugh chuckled softly, his hand caressing your cheek. “Maybe. But I had to take my chance.”

And in that moment, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

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[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty five

authors note: this chapter is emotionally heavy and taxing. please be mindful of your mental ability to handle heavy content.

cw/tw: angst, discussion of child abuse, and direct accounts of child abuse from said child.

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 10k

Giving Roman his space while also being worried sick about him is the last thing Solana was expecting to experience this week, but it’s exactly where she’s got.

They didn’t leave on the best of terms. It wasn’t hostile, not nasty, and no one was angry. There was just this lingering tension. Some level of animosity and frustration on her part, because he refused to listen to her.

Because he refused to stay.

And that irksome guilt on his part. Solana could see it smoldering every time he looked at her, looked at her face, at the bruise. So much so that Solana went and put makeup on in the hopes that camouflaging it could ebb away some of the undeserved guilt. A fruitless effort because he still packed his bag, still gave her that almost reluctant kiss, still murmured an almost sad ‘I love you’ (that she did not reciprocate), and walked out the door.

He still left her. 

It’s childish to a certain extent. Her behavior during his departure. Solana knows and recognizes this. But, it stems deep down from a deep place of concern. She’s worried sick about him, hates that he hates himself for an accident. 

There’s not a single part of her that believes that man would ever lift his hand to her. That’s not her Roman.

What happened truly was an accident. She just wishes she could get him to see that.

She’s hopeful the item she snuck in his bag will help. 

Even if just a little.

The communication between them in the time since he’s been gone is almost non-existent. He texted her when he arrived in Italy and when he made it to the hotel. For that, she was grateful, but she just couldn’t find it in her to offer a written response, settling for hearting his messages. Again, childish. And Solana can recognize that her behavior also stems from just being frustrated with him, angry with him for not staying and going with her plan.

For going so far away to the point that she can’t help him. She just wants to be there for and support him, and all he can seem to do is….is push her away.

And that hurts.

Deeply. 

Especially when he’s been so good in trying and succeeding in supporting her in all of her mess. All she wants to do is return the favor, but he won’t let her. 

And that’s when the anger sets in. Such an unfamiliar experience. 

She’s not an angry person. But, she certainly feels like one.

It’s why she has the thought—or maybe hope—that training will be a good outlet for her to let off some of this uncharacteristic anger. 

If only it happened that way.

Or maybe Solana was too naive. Stupid, possibly, to think she could just walk into training like nothing happened, like the proof of something happening isn’t literally written all over her face in black and blue.

Solana has barely stepped into the training space when the smiles on both Bayley and Naomi’s faces collapse the minute they lay eyes on her.

“Oh my god, Solana!” They rush over, Solana starting to wish she’d taken the time out to use makeup to conceal the bruise. As much as she could. The pigmentation is deep, and even with the heavy application, it was still visible when she tried to hide it for Roman’s sake. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Solana looks away, already regretting her decision to come here in the first place. “I’m fine.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re fine?” Bayley’s eyes are wide, her face painted in disbelief. “Solana, your face is all bruised up.”

An exaggeration. It’s focused on one side of her face, but given the nastiness of its appearance, Solana can slightly understand the description. 

“Solana, what the hell happened?” Naomi repeats her question, this time her lips formed into a line before she asks, “who hit you?” Solana closes her eyes and shakes her head. This is the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now, especially with the nausea that’s starting to build. 

This morning sickness is clearly about to kick her ass with this pregnancy. 

“Solana….” Bayley cuts in, and almost instantly, Solana knows she’s not about to like whatever is said. “Did Roman hit you?”

At that, Solana’s attention is immediately focused back on Bayley. She was absolutely correct in that she doesn’t like the question. At all. 

She can barely find the words to respond to such a thing. “What?”

Naomi looks past her, motioning someone over by them. “Jimmy! Come here.”

Shit. 

And just like that, the situation is progressing from bad to worse. Yeah….she definitely wishes she’d just stayed home. 

“Whassup?” Jimmy’s jovial voice sounds from behind her, Solana barely able to match his smile before, just like Bayley and Naomi, it’s dropped the second he lays eyes on her. On the bruise. “What the hell?” 

“Jimmy, pl—”

“Solana….” Another indication more anger is about to be stirred up on her part. An accurate expectation given the next question to leave his mouth. “Did Roman hit you?” The second it leaves his mouth, she’s filled with anger, but there’s a matching level of that emotion on his end as well. He shakes his head, voice dead serious, more than she’s ever heard from him since their initial meeting months prior. “The truth, Solana. If that son of a bitch, hit you, I wanna know. I’ll handle it.”

They mean well. She knows they mean well, but it’s a combination of all the things. Of what happened with Roman. Roman leaving. A possible pregnancy. A pregnancy she’s hiding because she can’t tell her husband just yet.

It’s just too much.

“Would you all just shut up?” She snaps, voice raised, several sets of eyes on her with varying levels of bewilderment. “I said he didn’t do it, and the fact that you all even think he could ever be capable of that is disgusting.”

Because it is. Because they should know him better than that. He’s a lot of things, but that has never been one of them.

And the fact that they’re accusing him of such is infuriating to her. 

Shaking her head, she turns on her heel to leave. “I’m out of here.”

“Solana, wait—”

But, she does nothing of the sort, just keeps walking away, never once looking back.

————

Regrets are a tricky thing. Varying in size and impact. Never a major issue for Roman.

Not until two days prior.

Two days prior where demons from his past submerged, resulting and causing him to do the unthinkable.

On a basic level, he knows it was an accident. Knows that he would never intentionally do anything to ever hurt his wife. Especially in that way. But, the key word is intentionally, because regardless of what he intended, she was hurt.

She was hurt because of him. By his hands. And, that’s something Roman can’t seem to make peace with. Every time he thinks of texting her, of even trying to call her, he’s hit with a flash of her pretty, innocent face marred with that hideous bruise.

A bruise he caused her to have.

And he just as quickly puts his phone away.

He instead opts for something different, something he hasn’t dared to touch since spotting it when emptying his luggage and hanging up some clothes.

Roman walks over to the nightstand where the purple journal with tattered edges and  random stickers plastered has sat untouched. Until now.

Solana’s journal.

It’s aged, most likely one from when she was still a child, and he hasn’t the slightest clue when she placed it in his bag, but the minute he opens it and sees a pink post it with her handwriting on it, his stomach twists in a way it’s only done in the past few months after years of dormancy.

It’s a simple, short but powerful message.

You could never be them.

-Solana

Roman closes his eyes. Right away, he knows he’s in for a heavy, brutal insight into the hell she experienced for so many years. A part of him doesn’t want to. Doesn’t feel fully capable or even worthy of reading her vulnerable words. Her journals are a private thing he would never want to invade. However, she placed it in his bag for a reason. She wants him to read it, some of it, at least. 

The least he can give her……is that.

Bracing himself as best he can for what he’s about to read, Roman turns to the first entry.

Dear Mami,

I try really hard not to make dad upset, but it’s hard. He’s always angry and yelling at me. 

I know you always told me to stay out of his way, but it’s hard, mama. He makes me do all the cleaning and cooking like he made you. Sometimes, he doesn’t let me eat. 

I wish you were here.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

Yesterday was really scary. Dad yelled at me for almost an hour and was throwing things. He hit me, too. I tried not to cry.

I’m trying to be strong like you, but it’s hard.

I’m not like you, mami. I’m not strong, and I don’t know how to be.

I miss you,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I keep looking for Hummingbirds. I know you said they don’t fly here, but I keep hoping I’ll see just one. I just want to see you again, mama. I miss you so much.

I wish they never took you from me.

I don’t have anybody anymore. 

I’m all alone.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t know what I did, but I made dad really mad. He just kept hitting me and hitting me. Then Wes started hitting me too. It was hard for me to get the blood to stop, but I did exactly what you taught me, and it worked.

My body hurts really bad, but I’m scared to leave my room cause I might see dad.

I think I’m gonna sleep in the closet tonight.

Love,

Sol

————

Mami,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you. 

Something….something really bad happened to me, mama. 

The detective lady said it wasn’t my fault, but it was. I was too weak. I’m not strong like you.

I’m sorry I let you down.

I hope you still love me.

Solana

————

It’s that last entry that Roman has to stop at. He can handle a lot. Has handled a lot, but this…..this he can’t.

He always knew Solana went through hell in that house, both from speculation as well as confirmation from her. But, to read her words in real time, to see with his own eyes the extent of that hell.

A child. She was a fucking child.

No one deserves what she went through.

No one. 

And while he understands her intentions, maybe hope, she had with him reading her entries being enough to trigger more self-forgiveness. Thought that him gaining better insight into her abuse would lessen his feelings of guilt towards his actions…..that’s not entirely the outcome.

Maybe to some extent.

But, it’s hard to feel any bit better knowing he’s unintentionally contributed to her massive pile of traumatic experiences. 

Ashamed. Roman feels ashamed. A new, heavy ass experience that has him partially weighed down, even more so now knowing exactly some of the thoughts and sentiments Solana experienced while enduring years worth of torture. 

Eyes shut, he’s tempted to grab his phone and just text her, check in on her. Because while he hates what he did, he also hates how they left off.

How he left her. 

Because she didn’t want him to leave. Because she practically begged him to stay, but he left regardless, because he didn’t feel right being and staying around her after what happened. 

Didn’t feel like she was safe around him.

The way he still feels now. 

Redirecting himself, Roman instead swaps the journal for his phone, choosing to respond to messages from Dwayne and Matteo. Focusing on the business purpose of his trip. He can at least acknowledge that he’s done a decent job completely immersing himself in the role of Capo. A necessity given the purpose of this whole trip.

Well, the original purpose. 

Interactions with members of the Administration thus far have irked him almost as much as interactions with the Elders. Their judgmental expressions of his long hair—that he absolutely wears down just to piss them off—and tattoos—also hidden—do nothing to hide the racist reasons they truly despise him. 

It’s a nice distraction, knowing how much he gets under their skin, knowing that it kills them that he’s as intelligent and successful and fucking good as he is, hence why they can’t find a legitimate way to dethrone him. 

The memory of him putting a babbo down brings a small smirk to his face. A small slice of amusement tucked in between everything else heavy and egregious. It’s short lived, however. Because it’s not pertinent right now. 

No, Roman has other matters to tend to, much more important ones that he’s gone back and forth with himself on for days, ultimately deciding to bite the bullet.

Even with having this newfound piece of information via Solana’s journals. 

Roman moves over to the table and opens up his laptop, a quick glance at the clock on the wall alerting him that it’s time. 

Logging in and getting set up take less than a minute, only for her to not be on, that annoying ass “Your clinician will start the appointment shortly” welcome message taunting him.

And just like that, Roman is instantly annoyed.

Does punctuality mean fucking nothing?

He’s even more irritated when the screen lights up a couple minutes later revealing his wife’s therapist. “You’re late.”

Gail looks like she wants to roll her eyes but ultimately decides not to. A wise decision. “I usually don’t get into the office until—”

“I don’t care.” He honestly, truly doesn’t. There’s a bit of hesitation as he asks, “how is she doing?”

Roman watches her shift in her seat, followed by movement that indicates she’s moving around some items on her desk. “Good. I’m pleased with her progress and dedication to continuing treatment.”

That’s relieving to hear. Much more than he’s willing to let on. Especially after what he just finished reading. “Did she attend yesterday?” He already knows the answer, having stayed on top of Nia via probably annoying, frequent texts reminding her of all the important things. Times of Solana’s appointments. Location of said appointments. Importance of making sure Nia puts Solana’s medication back exactly where he keeps it.

All of the things.

“She did.” He sees it, the unspoken question in her voice. And, he’s prepared to tell her to just ask the shit, letting him decide if he wants to answer it or not. But, she’s two steps ahead of him. “Mr. Reigns, this call wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the bruise she tried to hide with makeup, now would it?”

Fuck.

Roman doesn’t care about her question or the almost implication in said question. What he cares about is the fact that his wife is having to cake her face in makeup to hide the result of his lack of self0control. Is having to lie about how she acquired said bruise. 

It’s……crushing. Truly. 

Reminds him of her haunting words written as a child.

Similar words probably being penned in her most recent journal as a result of his actions. 

His arrogance is definitely knocked down a peg, as he asks in a low voice, “what did she tell you?”

Gail sits back in her chair, answering evenly. “Accident while training.”

It’s believable. Roman will give Solana that, but he���s not surprised. She probably spent years having to explain away bruises as a result of her despicable family. 

It’s difficult to not group himself in that same category, however. 

No matter what Solana says. 

“You said…..you said she’s codependent on me.” Roman’s gaze is focused on the cherry wood table in his hotel room and not on the woman watching him through the screen. It’s…..it’s easier that way. “How attached is she to me?”

Gail’s eyes narrow as she jumps straight to the point. “Roman, what exactly are you asking me?”

Nothing he ever anticipated having to ask. 

Or even consider.

It’s difficult for him to hide the heaviness in said answer. “What do you think it would do to her mentally if we weren’t together anymore?”

————

Here in the night

I see the sun

Here in the dark

Our two hearts are one

Solana grabs her phone and pauses the music, realizing it’s been a while since she took a break.

Sitting in her home library, surrounded by boxes, boxes filled with her books and journals finally transported from her work library has been the activity to occupy her racing mind for the past two hours.

It’s been a nice distraction. That and work itself the past few days. Getting back into her usual routine has been helpful, and coming back to a barrage of letters, cards, drawings, and other heartwarming gifts from the kids really was the highlight of her return. 

She’s never felt so loved than in the moment where they practically bum rushed her with hugs or when Mrs. Jensen handed over all of their “get well soon” gifts they’d brought in while she was away. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes, a welcomed change given those tears came from pleasant emotions.

Not like the ones she’s been crying ever since Roman left a couple days ago. She still hasn’t spoken to him. Not really. Not outside of occasional almost awkward check-in texts that she replies to with just as much awkwardness, if not just an emoji reaction. 

It’s miserable and stupid. She wants to talk to him. Wants to hear his voice, but she’s also trying to be respectful. Then there’s the lingering anger and frustration toward him for leaving, even if it’s subsided mostly into just sadness.

And loneliness. 

She misses him.

Misses falling asleep next to and waking up to him, something she was deprived of when she was away at treatment. But now, she’s right back in the same space. 

And even this, finally being able to start setting up her library/art room he thoughtfully created for her, is a bittersweet thing. She always imagined this being something they would do. Her handing journals and books to Roman for him to place up on the shelves that she cannot reach. His arms around her, frequently distracting her with dirty whispers of promised pleasure later that evening. Her sitting on his lap as she feeds him whatever she decided to make for lunch as they took a break.

It was just supposed to be different from this. 

Solana’s hand falls to her stomach. 

It was all supposed to be different from this. 

Tears pooling once again, she shakes her head, refusing to spiral yet again. She instead grabs her phone and once again ignores the unread texts from a variety of people. Naomi. Bayley. Even Melina and them.

Their messages are warranted given the abrupt almost cold text she sent to their group telling them the girls trip was off and to be postponed for a later date and time.

A part of her feels bad, but she’s mostly relieved. 

She just….she just needs space.

Doesn’t feel like talking.

If it’s not Roman, she’s not interested.

Her husband is the only person she wants to interact with, but she can't. Thus, her self-imposed isolation. 

He’s not an option currently, so until then, she just wants to be alone.

Solana is interrupted by her phone dinging, and the way she jumps with the hope that it’s maybe Roman is squashed the minute she realizes it’s not his notification sound and simply a calendar reminder. 

Appt w/ Dr. Michaels @ 2pm

Solana gasps and curses to herself.

She’d completely forgotten about scheduling that, most likely because she hates the fact that she’s even doing it.

She quickly hits dismiss on the alarm and stands up, sliding the phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts. The space around her is still a mess, some boxes partially open, others still taped shut. This is a project that’s clearly going to need to be completed in phases.  

Thus, she grabs a couple of unorganized journals scattered on the floor and drops them into a box, just to get them out the way, missing how a faded letter with her name written across in neat handwriting slips out one of the books and lays untouched and unseen on the floor. 

Out of the library and into the rest of the house, Solana has little difficulty finding Nia. Her husband's cousin who he somehow talked into, most likely forced, to stay with her has spent most of her time in her room, the gym, or the living room. 

And the latter of which is where Solana finds her, but not only her. Bautista is present, standing near the opposite end of the sofa where Nia sits.

It’s not surprising, however, given his almost “promotion” to guarding her at home, alternating with Solo for some outside outings as well. His service while she was away as well as his friendly disposition and Solana being comfortable with him securing this new arrangement.

Solana nervously clears her throat. “Nia?”

The other woman sighs. Loudly. “What?”

And just like that, the nerves are starting to set in. Nia isn’t going to like this. “I forgot I scheduled a doctor’s appointment today.”

Nia’s groan is also loud as she pauses the show and turns to Solana with a scowl. “Seriously? Can’t you like reschedule it or something?”

Not really. “No. I—I need to go.”

“Are you dying?”

Solana hesitates for a second. “Umm, no, but—”

“Then you don’t need to go,” she says it in the cheeriest voice, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. Standing up, Nia briefly looks over at a quiet Bautista then back at Solana. “I’m going to take a nap.”

Solana frowns. Does Nia not have other plans then? Because, Solana could understand if her appointment interfered with pre-existing obligations, but if there are none….what’s the issue?

Once it’s just the two of them, Bautista clears his throat. “If…..if I may?”

Solana looks over at him, managing a small smile. “Of course.” It doesn’t matter how many times she tells this man he doesn’t have to behave so reserved around her, he remains firm with his professionalism and manners. 

Regardless, the respect is deeply appreciated.

He walks over to her, keeping a respectful distance but still close enough for her to hear his calm, leveled voice. “Roman Reigns is our Tribal Chief. He sits at the Head of the Table. We all acknowledge him just like we all answer to him.” His tone takes a firmer, almost convictive nature. “You are Solana Reigns. The wife of the Tribal Chief, meaning you sit directly next to him at that table. You only answer to him. No one else.”

Silence.

There’s a heavy but powerful silence that follows his words. A silence that’s filled with thinking and recognition. Solana has always known, never been ignorant to the power her husband holds. All that comes with his status and position. But, it’s not until this moment, not until Bautista frames it that way, that she fully recognizes just how much of that, if not all of it, carries over to his wife.

She is the wife of the Tribal Chief.

And that means something. 

Nodding from a newfound sense of confidence and credence, Solana offers a heartfelt, “thank you, Bautista.” Lifting her chin, she informs, “we’ll be leaving shortly.”

There’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Yes ma’am.”

Pleased and determined, Solana turns on her heel and doesn’t waver as she makes her way up the stairs and down the hall until she’s standing before Nia’s door. 

She doesn’t even bother with knocking.

Opening the door, Solana finds Nia laying in bed. She jumps up and removes her sleep mask, irritation all over her face. “What the he—”

“I said I have an appointment.” Solana has never felt more assured than she does at this moment, not a bit of her reluctant as she orders, “be ready in half an hour.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and walks out without another word.

It’s not needed.

She said what she said.

————

Despite an excellent, earlier display of assertiveness, to say Solana feels good about her decision, as a whole, would be a lie, because she doesn’t. Going behind Roman’s back is what she feels like she’s doing, and that is an awful feeling. But, she’s in this tricky situation where she doesn’t want to tell him about the pregnancy if there is in fact no pregnancy. And if she is pregnant, she doesn’t want to tell him via a text or phone call because that feels too impersonal. And, she also just doesn’t want to tell him, period, because he’s already beating himself up over what happened and him knowing that she is pregnant could only make it worse.

And yes, she could just take a home test, but at this point, she needs to know with absolute certainty. A home test can’t do that for her.

But, a blood test can.

Thus, where she currently sits: in the lobby of the private clinic where her husband’s doctor operates out of. Because she needs a medical professional, but she doesn’t know who to go to. Doesn’t know how this is supposed to work. She just knows that if she is pregnant, it’s important that it doesn’t get out for a lot of reasons.

Especially since she has to be the one to tell her husband.

Just when the time is right. 

“Why exactly are we here again?” Nia’s bored voice cuts her from her thoughts, Solana looking up from the thread she has opened. The one between her and Roman. “It’s probably just allergies.”

As part of doing her best to hide her pregnancy, Solana wisely made up an excuse of her throat feeling weird and a headache to explain to Nia and Bautista this otherwise random appointment. So far, it seems to be working. “Maybe, but I just want to make sure. You know Roman had the flu not too long ago.”

Nia rolls her eyes and wisely says nothing else, focusing back on the book in her hand. It’s not missed upon Solana how her gaze briefly darts to Bautista.

She’s not sure what exactly is going on there, but Solana could get behind it. In a strange sort of way, they just make sense to her. 

He could maybe help Nia level out the way Solana tends to help Roman with his temper.

“Mrs. Reigns?” 

Solana looks up to see the nurse standing by the door. She turns to Nia and Bautista. “I’ll be back.”

“You sure you don’t need us to wait in the hall or something?” His question is valid as is the concern on his handsome face, but Solana can’t risk them somehow overhearing the truth behind this appointment. 

“No, I’ll be fine.” She manages a small smile that probably doesn’t reach her eyes, turning on her heel to follow the nurse to the back. 

Solana is most definitely experiencing heightened anxiety that only intensifies when she spots Dr. Michaels coming from the other end of the hall. 

He’s not alone, however. A tall man, about the same height as the doctor. Smooth chocolate skin with a decent build for a man who looks to be in his fifties is beside him, focused on whatever Dr. Michaels is saying to him. 

“......firefighter, doctor, what’s next? Police officer.” She overhears her husband’s doctor who wears a teasing smile. “You’re just crossing them all off the list, ain’t you?” A friendly set of blue eyes settle on her when the gap between both is closed. “Well, what a sur—”

“Solana……”

Solana finds herself frowning, her attention directed to the man who she’s never seen before this very moment but who somehow knows her name and is staring directly at her. It’s not a predatory stare or even something inappropriate. It’s almost…..sad.

He’s looking at her like he’s just seen a ghost.

Dr. Michaels is also looking at the man next to him but with a different kind of expression. One that screams, you can’t just address the Tribal Chief’s wife so informally like that. “Mrs. Reigns, I apologize for the wait.” 

Solana shakes her head, still unsure why this stranger keeps staring at her. “It’s okay.” She hugs herself, looking past him to see if she can spot whatever door is open that could be the room they’ll be in. “Are you ready or…..”

“Of course.” He turns to the man beside him, offering a handshake. “Good to have you on the team, Dr. Adams.” 

Dr. Adams.

Yeah, not familiar at all. 

This Dr. Adams finally removes his gaze from her to accept Dr. Michaels handshake, only nodding as he gives her one last, almost regretful look and carefully moves past her.

Solana frowns in the wake of his absence. What was that?

Dr. Michaels apologizes again. “Sorry about that. Come with me.” Wordlessly, she follows him, moving to sit on the patient bed, anxiety growing once again as he closes the door. “Now, I hear you’re having some—”

“You can’t tell Roman I was here.”

It’s certainly not what she planned to say. Not yet, anyway. But, it’s exactly what comes out, Solana closing her eyes and going to correct herself. “I mean…..I’m gonna tell him myself. I just….I just need time.”

Time and a plan. Along with many other things she doesn’t need to tell the man before her.

His jovial disposition has shifted into something almost nervous and uncomfortable. “Solana, what’s going on here?”

She takes a breath, head tilted back, giving herself one final boost of encouragement before answering. “I need…..I need a pregnancy test.”

The release of what she’s been holding in for the past couple weeks is both terrifying and relieving. She hates that the first person she’s uttering the words to, even if just a thought of pregnancy, isn’t her husband. But, she also knows that she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even more, she needs to know for certain, and Dr. Michaels is the only one who can provide her with that answer.

He looks only slightly less confused. “I see…..” Shifting the tablet under his arm to in front of him, he speculates, “and Roman doesn’t know that you might be…..”

“No,” she answers, voice small. “I’m—I’m going to tell him, but I want to know for sure first.” Again, only a part of a much bigger, complicated story. 

“Well, I can absolutely do a blood test, but I’m general medicine, Solana. I’m not an—”

“OB-GYN. I know. I just…..I didn’t know who else to go to. You’re Roman’s doctor, so he obviously trusts you.” Enough to manage his health, at least. “And I don’t know if there’s a specific doctor the Bloodline uses—”

“There is,” he supplies with a small smile. “I’ll make sure to give you her info before you leave. Even if….” He trails off, clearly not wanting to state what Solana would be shocked to find out is a false alarm.

She feels pregnant. 

He clears his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, but have you told anyone e—”

“No.” It’s an easy, truthful answer. “I haven’t said a word to anyone, and I won’t. Not until I find out if I am and definitely not until I tell Roman.”

He nods, clearly agreeing with this plan. “I will say, the big guy might order that this pregnancy stays just between you and your care team. And I guess me now,” he ends with a chuckle. “You’re the Tribal Chief’s wife who might be carrying his first official heir. That target over your head just got a hell of a lot bigger.” It’s weird, but his words don’t come across as fearmongering or even a scare tactic. Just a genuine warning of what’s to come. “But, that’ll be discussed between—”

“How is he?” It’s a breathless almost thing that falls out of her mouth. An unintended question but one she finds herself asking, nonetheless. “Roman, I mean, like….his health.”

Because on top of worrying about his mental state, being in front of his doctor has her curious about the physical side of things. 

“You’re a smart young lady, Solana.” Dr. Michaels starts, voice tentative almost. “You know how HIPAA works…..”

She closes her eyes. “I’m not asking you as a patient’s wife. I’m–” She takes a deep breath, voice firm and solid. “I’m asking you as the Tribal Chief’s wife.”

Bautista’s words still playing in the back of her head, Solana has never really considered what role she plays as Roman’s wife. Never thought to pull that card, because it’s almost out of character. She’s always been more inclined to shy away from status than to use it to her benefit. But, this is different. This is about Roman, and there isn’t much she wouldn't do to help him or even to know if and what he needs help with. 

And he’s been mum regarding his blood pressure as of late, so her curiosity is only naturally piqued. 

There’s obvious hesitation, but he relents, partially to her surprise. “He’s doing alright. Numbers look decent. Seems that he’s finally recognizing how serious this could be if he doesn’t do what he needs to do to keep from progressing to another stage again.”

“Wait. What?” Solana frowns. “Stage? What….what are you talking about?” A brief look of panic flashes in his blue eyes, alerting Solana that something is very much not right. “What stage?”

“Fuck…..” He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He didn’t tell you….”

“Tell me what?” Solana presses, her anxiety almost through the roof  “I’m not—I’m not gonna ask again.”

Dr. Michaels sighs with defeat. “Look, the last time Roman was here, his numbers were bad. Like, he jumped from prehypertension to stage one actual hypertension bad. I had to up his dosage and increase his follow up appointments as well as bloodwork check-ins.” Solana’s heart swells and her stomach jumps, and Dr. Michaels clearly sees how devastated this news has her, thus him adding, “but, like I said, he’s been on top of it and is looking good…..”

It’s hard for her to focus on that ending bit when all she can think about is one thing.

Lie.

Roman lied to her. 

She asked him. She fucking asked him how his appointment went, how his blood pressure was doing, if he was okay. And, he lied. He lied to her face. He told her he was fine, and he wasn’t.

He still isn’t. 

And this time, instead of lying, he’s just left.

Ran away. 

Like he always does. 

“Solana…..”

It’s the almost gentle way her name is said that alerts her to the fact that she’s crying, tears spilling down her face as she clutches her stomach. 

“Can I just have the test, please?” Because that’s all she wants and needs at this point. She just needs to know for certain, and she needs to get the hell out of here. 

She just needs to get away from it all.

————

Solana has never considered herself an irrational person. Most definitely not impulsive. Even with both of her suicide attempts, they may have been impulsive in the moment, but they didn’t indicate a truly impulsive personality or even disposition. 

But, that hasn’t been the case for the past three days.

No, it hasn’t been the case, because Solana’s current situation is the direct result of impulsivity.

She sits in her bedroom, Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed on the floor beside her. Bautista and Nia are somewhere in the house that is not her main home, but the house purchased by her husband for her.

She’s in Isla Mujeres.

And has been for three days now.

Coming home from the shocking appointment, Solana found herself packing a small bag for herself, one for Dulce, and telling both Nia and Bautista to get ready because they were flying out that night. 

Her command left no room for argument, and that’s exactly what occurred, hence how Solana ended up where she is.

It’s been a true form of escape.

Feeling overwhelmed with all of it, Solana knew she needed to just not be around any of it.

And this place has served as a site of refuge, providing her with some level of tranquility that’s been escaping her back home.

Again, her random text to the group chat regarding her “going away” for a couple of days was met with another round of bombarding messages and calls. And Solana isn’t stupid, she knows and can understand her friends being concerned about her.

But, it’s not like she’s entirely alone. She has two people who are making sure she’s safe despite her perhaps strange behavior, and that’s all that matters.

Because she just needs space.

And in an unexpected turn of events, Roman has been added to that list.

He lied. He lied to her. Lied to her about something so important, something regarding his health, of all things. Was dishonest with her.

Again.

It’s becoming a bit of a theme, and she’s not naive. She can somewhat understand why he didn’t tell her. At first. Because she was in the midst of treatment.

But, she’s home now. She’s been home. Why would he not come clean?

Tears burn her eyes. It’s hard to balance understanding with feeling betrayed, because this isn’t the first time her husband hasn’t been honest with her.

And if she’s being honest with herself, this “reason” for the dishonesty being because he’s trying to protect her is…..it’s getting old.

She’s just so frustrated with him. 

So much of this could be avoided if he would just talk to her, and she’s running out of different ways to help him understand as such. 

Wiping at her eyes, Solana grabs a journal off the nightstand. Something she’s discussed with Gail in therapy as of late is the importance of never forgetting where she came from, how far she’s come. Remembering that she’s moving in the right direction.

It’s a strange thing, too. 

On one hand, reading journals from when she was a child and teenager could and maybe should be triggering. And it is. To a certain extent.

But, Solana is proud to say that she can revisit these painful memories and not be drawn back into those dark emotions but rather recognize that was how she used to feel. Where she used to be. 

Who she used to be.

But, not anymore.

Never again.

Solana leans back against the headboard and opens the journal, unsure what she’s about to read but ready regardless.

Dear Mami,

I miss you so much. I’m so so sorry for everything. I’m so sad now that you’re gone. I wish you were here. Daddy is so mean to me. Wes now too. He hates me because it’s my fault you’re dead. 

I’m so sorry. 

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

Everything is so much badder now. Daddy is angry at me all the time. Wes too. They call me names. They hurt me, mommy. 

I wish I could be with you.

Yours,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

I’m sorry I haven’t written you lately. Daddy got mad at me for spilling some juice, and he broke my arm, so I couldn’t write.

I just got the cast off this morning. 

It still hurts a lot, but at least I can write you.

I got all A’s this quarter, mami! I’m trying to make you proud.

Hope you’ve forgiven me.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I feel so sad. Nothing makes me happy anymore. I try to think of you. Remember the times we would draw and sing and cook together. But, it’s not working anymore.

Mommy, I have times where I feel like I can’t breathe cause I feel so sad.

And sometimes when I just don’t want to breathe anymore at all.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Solana

————

Mom,

It was a rough day. I had those thoughts again. I was able to fight them, but it’s so hard. 

I try to think about how you always told me to never stop dreaming. Never stop believing that life is a gift. I try, but it’s hard. 

I try to dream that not all men are like dad and Wes. That not every man in my life will hurt me. That maybe……just maybe I can fall in love someday. Find and marry someone who’s actually nice to me, who treats me with kindness, who loves me.

Kind of like my prince charming.

Do you think I could ever have a happily ever after?

Love,

Sol

Reading the entries definitely stirs up emotions, but it’s the last letter, however, that has her tears subsiding and the weight on her chest decreasing. A complete shift away from the heavy, depressing entries from such dark times in her life. 

A man unlike her dad and brother. 

Roman.

A man who would never hurt her like her dad and brother. 

Roman

A man she could love and marry. Someone who treats her with kindness and loves her. 

Roman 

Solana snaps the journal shut and cries a little harder, feels a little deeper, the realization hitting her like a stack of bricks over the head.

Roman isn’t perfect. He may seem like it sometimes, but he isn’t. He’s just a man. A human being like any other human being. He has his faults, the same way she has hers. He has his demons, just like she has hers.

But one thing that’s always remained consistent is him. He’s been her pillar since the beginning of their marriage, even when things were rocky and they were trying to learn each other. He’s been there for her.

More than any other man in her life, and this rough patch for him, for them, should not be anything that has her questioning him or their relationship.

Roman loves her. Plain and simple. 

The same way she loves him. 

And it’s that love that’s going to get them through this.

Wiping at her eyes, nodding to herself, Solana takes a deep breath. Swapping the notebook in her lap for the phone on the nightstand, she navigates to the unheard voicemail from Dr. Michaels.

The one that’s sat there for three days now, Solana not feeling well enough to receive that answer.

But, not anymore.

It’s time.

Eyes closing for a second, her hand drops to her stomach as she finally hits the play button.

Almost instantly, a new, male voice fills the room.

“Hey Solana, it’s Dr. Michaels.” Her heartbeat is a mile a fucking minute, Solana having to take a deep breath to help herself calm down. “Got your test results back and looks like you and the Big Guy better start babyproofing that big ole’ house of yours.” And just like that, Solana smacks the pause button on the voicemail before doubling over, a sob leaving her mouth.

She knew it. Felt it. But, there’s something about hearing the confirmation. Knowing without a doubt that she’s pregnant that’s almost overwhelming. 

In the best possible way.

Sniffling, she smiles down and rubs her hand across her stomach.

She’s pregnant.

“Now, I don’t want to freak you out, but your hCG levels came back pretty high, which isn’t anything bad. At all. But, it can indicate a multiples pregnancy. Meaning you could be carrying twins, and if that’s the case……”

It’s difficult for Solana to continue to focus on the rest of his message, something about him reminding her that Dr. Sharmell is the go-to OB-GYN for Bloodline pregnancies, as well as a phone number she’d guess for this doctor. However, as appreciated as that is, it’s mostly in one ear and out the other, because all she can hone in on is one word.

Twins

Twins like the ones she’s had several, frequent, recurring dreams about over the past few months. Dropping her phone altogether, Solana places both hands on her stomach, somehow, someway already knowing that he’s right.

She is carrying twins.

Smiling, laughing faces that are the perfect combination of herself and Roman rushing to the front of her mind, deepening her smile, increasing her joy.

Her babies.

Overcome with happiness, Solana finds herself grabbing her current journal that was also sitting on the nightstand, trembling hands skipping to the end of the book that she’s damn near completed. Using the pen in the middle, Solana shares the news, officially, with the only person other than her husband who she would give anything to have to celebrate with right now.

Dear Mami,

I’m pregnant. 

With twins. 

I’m getting my happily ever after, after all.

Love,

Sol

She must reread it almost a dozen times, each reading widening her smile. It’s such a strange thing, how quickly emotions can oscillate. She’d traveled the feelings spectrum from one end to the other over the past week, but this stop…..this stop is one she’d be okay with staying at for a while. 

Solana grabs her phone again, fingers navigating to Roman’s contact. She’s not going to tell him. Not like this, but this avoidance game they’ve been playing needs to stop. A glance at the time as well as her pulling up the world clock reveals it’s almost midnight in Italy, but that doesn’t stop her from dialing the number regardless.

It’s time to talk to her husband.

Except, it’s not.

Because the phone goes straight to voicemail. 

Solana frowns. She can’t recall a time where Roman’s phone has ever been off. On Do Not Disturb, sure, but off?

Never.

Not since she’s been with him, at least.

The beeping on the other end alerts her to the fact that she can either leave a message or hang up. 

She decides on the former of the two options.

“Hey….” Clearing her throat, she does her best to keep her voice steady, a tricky task considering the life-changing news she’s sitting on. “I—I wanted to talk to you. I—I miss your voice. I miss you.” Swallowing, she smiles, wishing she could bask in this moment with him. “Call me back when you get a chance….I love you.”

Hanging up the phone, Solana scoffs, still slightly in a state of disbelief. Looking down at a still sleeping Dulce, a soft giggle leaves her mouth at thinking about how her fur baby is going to react to there being a real baby in the house.

Two.

Climbing off the bed, phone in one hand, Solana moves over to the dresser and grabs a change of clothes before heading to the attached master bathroom.

She’s done a lot of sulking while in her supposed happy place, engaged in a lot of avoidance behavior. 

No more.

She has a reason to smile, to be happy, to be excited. And she wants to lean into that.

Solana starts to make a mental list of things she wants to do before leaving in a couple days. The item at the top is to go see Paloma. She’s barely spoken to the older woman with kind eyes and a warm personality since first meeting her months prior.

It’s time to see her again. 

But, as much as she would like to focus on an agenda for the remainder of her trip, it’s difficult for her mind to not keep gravitating back toward the news.

To the thought of life growing inside her. 

Two lives formed from a beautiful though flawed love. Two individuals who have lost so much yet stand to gain so much more through the lives they’ve created together.

Solana knows Roman will be an amazing father. He’s been so good to her, so patient, so loving. Seeing that extended to their children just fills her with all of the butterflies.

They’ll definitely have to make some changes. She might have to cut back work hours. He could maybe work from home more, if that’s even a thing. No nanny. Roman probably wouldn’t trust anyone anyway.

And the guest room closest to them could easily be the shared nursery for both children. It only makes sense for the babies to be close to them, getting different, separate rooms as they get older.

Standing in the shower, continuing to go over any and all the details, there’s a small bit of sadness at not being able to share the news with her friends. She knows they’re all going to be so happy for her, and Solana knows they’ll plan the biggest, most elaborate baby shower that she’ll probably have to bribe Roman into attending.

All of it, even the maybe stressful things, keeps her smile on her face. 

It’s just been some time since she’s felt so happy. A well deserved thing following an almost week of anything but.

But, it’s as Solana steps out the shower, wraps the towel around her and checks her phone, her smile dims at her lock screen being littered with notifications.

1 missed call from Jey 

3 missed calls from Jimmy

4 unread texts from Jimmy

2 unread texts from Jey

And just like that, her stomach drops.

Something is wrong.

Given Jimmy is the one with the most outreach attempts, she bypasses reading any messages and just skips right to calling him.

Pacing across the bathroom, each ring on the other end feels like an eternity. Finally, he picks up. “Solana.”

“What’s wrong?” It’s blurted out, her desperation and fear loud and present. “What happened?”

A heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Solana…..”

“What happened, Jimmy!” She doesn’t mean to yell, but she does mean to stress that she needs this man to tell her just what the hell is going on.

Another pause. “Fetu took a turn for the worse.” Her heart stops. “She’s…..she’s probably not going to make it through the night.”

Of all the things to come out his mouth, Solana could have never guessed that would be it. She’s instantly in a brief state of shock. This can’t be……no, it can’t.

“What?” Is all she’s able to muster, leaning back against the counter, heart rate a mile a minute.

“I don’t….I don’t know all the details. Ava was too upset to talk, but—”

“Roman….” 

Jimmy blows out a deep breath. “He’s already on a plane here. He…..he was actually already on his way.” Solana’s frown deepens. “He wanted to surprise you.” And the knife just keeps twisting. “He knows and should land in a couple hours, but I don’t know if—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off. Solana can’t even fathom the notion of what he’s about to say. It can’t…..no. “Don’t say it.”

“Solana….” She’s never heard Jimmy sound so despondent. “From the way Ava was talking, she doesn’t have a lot of t—”

“He’s gonna make it.” There is no other alternative. None that Solana can consider. At least, not in this state. Because she’s still trying to sit on the fact that Roman’s laughing, smiling, hoot of an aunt is now suddenly at death’s door. It doesn’t make any sense. They were supposed to go see her. Solana had already texted and talked with Ava about surprising Fetu with a visit when Roman returned. 

And now…..

“I’m on my way.”

She can practically picture Jimmy’s surprise. “Solana, I don’t—”

“I need you to meet me at the airport and take me there,” she continues. Because Solana has only been there once, she doesn’t know how to get to Fetu’s place. But, Jimmy does, and something tells her Roman will land back home before she does, and she doesn’t want him wasting a second waiting around for her so they can go together.

“Solana, you’ve never…..you’ve never been around Roman when he’s lost someone. I don’t—I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you—”

“I am not letting him deal with this alone,” she vows, anger replacing the fear. “Prepare the jet for me.”

“Solana—”

“I said I’m going!” She snaps. Solana is certain her shout bypasses the perimeter of the closed bathroom door, travels into her bedroom and permeates throughout the house. “If you don’t want to help me, that’s fine. I’ll find a way. I will fucking swim back home and walk my way there if that’s what it takes, because I am not letting him deal with this alone.” There’s absolute silence on the other end. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

Jimmy is quiet for a good minute before answering. “I’ll be there when you touch down.”

There’s a small slice of relief that fills her at his agreement, but it’s nothing to sit in given the weight of the situation. “I’ll see you then.” 

Hanging up the phone, Solana hurriedly applies her deodorant and slips on her bra and panties. Walking out the bathroom, she moves over to the dresser, pulling out some sweats and a shirt. Once her sneakers are on, she’s grabbing Dulce, apologizing for waking her up as she moves out the room and down the stairs.

She finds Bautista and Nia in the kitchen, not hesitating as she informs, “pack your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Their surprised, borderline confused expressions make all the sense, but it’s Nia who speaks up. “What do you mean we’re leaving?”

Solana ignores her, carrying Dulce to the backdoor and letting her out, keeping her eyes on her puppy as she finds the patch of grass to relieve herself. 

Nia, of course, refuses to let it go, pushing her at a time where Solana is already trying not to sink into panic. “Look, you have been an impulsive mess all week. Randomly making us fly out here and now you’re making us randomly fly back. What the he—”

“Would you shut up!” It’s similar to the way she snapped at Jimmy, but angrier. More personal. “I don’t answer to you, Nia. I said we’re leaving, so we’re fucking leaving!”

And at that moment, Dulce hurries herself back inside, Solana slamming and shutting the door as she storms past a bewildered Nia to go back upstairs and finish packing.

Shaking hands, quiet sniffles, and silent tears accompany her preparation. She tried to call Roman again, only for the phone to once again go to voicemail, further worrying her.

He’s been pushing her away all week, but this…..this feels different. 

He’s icing her out, and it hurts, but not for her. She hurts for him, because he was already in a not good place before leaving. And now this?

“Please don’t take her from him…..” Solana finds herself pleading, praying for the first time in a long time. “He can’t…..he can’t lose her.”

Because he can’t. 

Because Solana can’t even imagine what losing Fetu would do to Roman. She isn’t sure how he’d handle it. 

If he could handle it. 

Less than twenty minutes later, Solana and Co. are out of the house and on their way to the airport. Dulce, forever perceptive, remains in her lap, every so often licking her arm and whining, cuddling close to Solana.

To her stomach. 

It’s appreciated. 

Necessary.

Because Solana is a nervous, emotional wreck sitting on the jet, Bautista and Nia wisely keeping their distance, leaving her alone in the bedroom with Dulce close by her side.

Solana tries to call both Roman and Ava one last time before takeoff. Neither answers.

It’s not unexpected, but it does make that despair lingering in the pit of her stomach grow.

Makes Solana think back on the letter she has tucked and hidden away at home. Makes her reflect on that almost ominous interaction with his aunt. 

Fetu shakes her head, Solana looking down when she places a white, sealed envelope in her hand. “I need you to give this to him when the time is right.”

Those words now haunt her, cause her to wonder just what is contained within that letter. If….if it was intended for a time like this.

A time where she’s no longer around.

Solana shakes her head, a sob breaking through as she tries to gather herself. She’s an emotional mess, yes, pregnancy hormones probably not helping, but regardless, she can’t be.

She needs to be strong. 

For Roman.

It’s what she keeps telling herself, reminding herself of as she’s forced to utilize some of her coping skills to settle her anxiety. Because it’s not just her she has to think about anymore.

It’s her babies, too.

Solana is nearly running out the jet the minute it lands and they’re clear to exit. She leaves Dulce with Nia, instructing her to take her back home.

Nia doesn’t argue with this.

But, the minute she steps foot out of the jet, her feet on ground, her eyes locked with Jimmy who waits near a black SUV…..she knows.

She just knows.

Solana’s hand goes to her stomach. “No……” Jimmy’s eyes shut as he runs his hand over his face, unshed tears glistening once he reopens his eyes and looks over at her. “Please, no…..”

“Solana….” 

Her voice breaks. “Don’t say it.”

But, he does. He absolutely says it. “She’s gone, Solana.”

She knew it. Knew it the moment her eyes locked with his that are filled with such tremendous grief, holding a truth she’d give anything to be anything but. But, on top of the grief that now fills her body the same way it fills Jimmy, there’s an entirely different layer that nearly grounds her when that realization settles. 

“Roman.” She’s almost scared to ask, but she has to. She just has to. “Did he….”

And it’s the way Jimmy’s sadness deepens as he shakes his head no that Solana’s already wavering resolve crumbles, that she breaks down in front of her husband’s cousin. Jimmy moves over to her, letting her cry into him at the second horrifying realization bulldozes into her with the weight of solid concrete.

Roman didn’t make it in time.

He didn’t get to see Fetu before she passed.

He didn’t get to say goodbye.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 20: written but never sent

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer greatly enjoyed handwriting. Electronic devices irritated him to no end, as he felt that typing on them was so impersonal and trivial. Handwriting required careful thought, reflecting desires and passions in the shape of the letters, and capturing feelings in the prose... everything written by hand represented something intimate, at least to him.

That’s why, when he got a pen pal, it was inevitable that he would start developing feelings. He had contacted you as part of a school assignment, as both of you were studying the same Ph.D. in linguistics, and one of the tasks was to analyze how different people express themselves in writing.

All he had was your name and address, the strictly necessary information to send a letter. He was the first to send one, sharing some details about himself, why he was pursuing the degree, the work he did, and how he would apply the knowledge he was acquiring.

He patiently waited for your response, which arrived a week later in a small brown paper envelope with a maroon stamp. Your letter didn’t seem like just a required response to fulfill the assignment. You sounded genuinely interested in what he had shared, and you addressed every point he had mentioned.

What surprised him the most was that at the end, you talked about books he had mentioned and ended with a question:

Have you read The Resilience of Language? It's a great book that could help you a lot. I highly recommend it! Best regards, nice to meet you.

There was a question at the end. The answer was no, Spencer hadn’t read that book. He could have simply stopped there, taking your recommendation and using your letter to complete his assignment. But something inside him wasn’t content to just end the communication there; he thought it would be rude not to offer a reply. So, as soon as he received your letter, he took one of his notebooks to write back.

Spencer used one of his gel pens with a fine tip and deep pigmentation. If someone were observing him, they could say that all these actions reflected a sense of importance: selecting the paper, his best pen, carefully crafting his handwriting—all of this added weight to the act.

He sent the letter, still unsure, but hopeful nonetheless. He was amazed when he arrived at the building and found another letter in his mailbox, with the same characteristics as the previous week.

A year had passed since then.

Every week, without fail, you exchanged letters. By now, he knew you better than he had ever known anyone, as the semi-anonymity provided an extra layer of trust for sharing everything that had happened during your week. You started by exchanging generalities, talking about books, and discussing the Ph.D. classes. Slowly, you began to share less trivial things: how the place where you lived was, your job, elements of your identity.

In recent months, you were writing to each other as if you were close friends.

My migraines have improved, in case you’re wondering, and this week at work has been less demanding than usual. We only handled a fairly light case (if you can even call it that in my line of work), and I had time to analyze some of the works you recommended. How’s everything going with that guy at work?

When Spencer finished, he hesitated about how to sign the letter. At first, he would send you his regards, write some polite expression, or simply wish you a good day. But now, he felt the need to sign off differently.

Affectionately, Spencer.

He didn’t think you would notice, just a gesture of the growing trust between you. He patiently waited for the postman to deliver your reply, and after several days, he eagerly read your words on the paper.

I’m disappointed about the guy. Turns out he’s a jerk, you know? Sometimes I wish I could meet someone who can genuinely love me, without focusing solely on the physical. Maybe it’s bold of me to say that, but I think you understand. I want a connection that comes from appreciating who I am, with someone who shares my interests, someone respectful, intelligent... but I won’t bore you with my romantic nonsense. The point is, I’m not dating anyone at the moment. I’m focusing on our Ph.D., haha. I hope you’re doing well, and I look forward to your reply!

However, he was quite surprised when he read the signature that followed your name.

Yours sincerely…

Had you signed that way in response to the dedication in his letter? Something felt strange within him, and his chest warmed with an unfamiliar feeling.

For a moment, he wondered if there was any possibility that he could meet the expectations of the special person you described, and when he realized he was imagining himself with you in that kind of scenario, he felt embarrassed.

It was ridiculous to think about. You didn’t even know each other, and you lived miles away, you were just friends who had taken a school assignment too far.

Time passed, and the signatures grew more affectionate, more personal… just like the content of the letters. It got to the point where he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was in love.

Though after realizing it, he spent a long time wondering what he should do with that feeling. Weeks passed before he came to a decision.

Spencer was returning from Maine when he decided to finally write to you. He was sitting on the plane, with his notebook in front of him, and his mind as blank as the page.

“What are you struggling to write, Reid?” Emily asked, sitting beside him “You’ve been staring at that notebook for ten minutes without the pen touching the paper.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, trying to downplay it. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with Emily, not with anyone.

A couple of hours later, with a pile of crumpled-up drafts beside him, he finally managed to write something:

I can’t start this letter without first telling you how much I’ve come to value our correspondence. For over a year, our written conversations have become one of the most important constants in my life. Each week, I eagerly await your letters, and every one of them brings me a pause in the middle of my routine: a space of calm where our words connect in ways I never imagined possible. I’ve read and reread your letters so many times that, sometimes, I feel like I know them by heart. Even so, I always discover something new in your words: an idea that eluded me before, an emotion that makes more sense over time, or a reflection that sheds new light on my own experience. Although we’ve never met in person, I feel like I know you better than many people I speak to face-to-face. Is that strange? Maybe it is, but the truth is that there’s something about the depth of our conversations that transcends physical distance. All this time, I’ve tried to rationalize what you mean to me, but there are things that can’t be measured or analyzed logically, no matter how hard I try. What I want to tell you —and what has taken me so long to write—is that I’ve fallen in love with you. At first, I wasn’t sure what this feeling was. I thought it was just admiration or gratitude for the friendship we’ve cultivated, but with each letter, with each shared thought, I realized it was something deeper. I love you, not just for what you share with me, but for who you are. For the way you see the world, with such clarity and empathy. For your insatiable curiosity, for your unique way of finding beauty in the smallest details. I don’t want this confession to make you uncomfortable or push you away. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, and I’ll consider myself lucky just to have known you in this way. But I couldn’t go on without being honest with you. I hope that, whatever your response may be, we can remain the same two friends who have shared so much through these pages. With all my love, and praying to be able to be yours, Spencer.

He kept the written words as if they were a treasure, feeling his heart race every time he thought about that secret tucked away in an envelope on his desk. Unfortunately, that letter never saw the light of day, all because of his fear of losing who might have been the best friend he had ever had in his life.

[moonlightsolo]

Can you do one of neteyam and avatar reader you love art so he lets you paint on him and he’s really cute and interested in your passion <3

omg yes THANK U FOR THIS. i love to paint irl so i had so much fun writing this!

your legs straddle neteyams hips, sitting atop of him as he lays down on his back against a bed of moss. it’s normal to sit on him like this when you’re simply having a conversation, especially when he comes back after a long day of hunting; he usually swoops you off of your feet and takes you somewhere private in the forest. mostly to catch up…

…and to do some other things you can’t usually do around camp. he knows you miss him when he’s away, so we wants to soak up as much of you during his free time.

your hands are currently busy illustrating your day as you talk, “so kiri and i made paints today, we went out and foraged for plants to create these super bright pigments!” you exclaim excitedly, “i have pinks, blues, reds, oranges, even whites!” you count on your fingers, “they’re all so beautiful. i just can’t wait to try them out.”

neteyam watches you in awe from his position, a permanent grin on his lips. he adores you so much, and hearing you passionately ramble about one of your hobbies fills his heart with joy.

“my love, you are sooooo beautiful.” he blurts out, his eyes sparkle under the sunlight that streaks through the trees towering above your bodies. he can’t help but let his hand knead at your thigh.

you can’t help but giggle at his compliment as you stare down at him, “did you hear anything i just said?”

the boy underneath you hums in response, the sound vibrates your body, “yeah… you made paints with kiri… blah, blah, blah, aaand now i wanna see you make somethin’ with them.”

your face brightens at his words, “wait really?!” you shriek softly from the pure excitement that fills you.

neteyam cackles and digs his head back into the ground, “yes, of course, ma syulang.” the little nickname makes your heart flutter in satisfaction. his flower.

“where? i can go back to camp real quick to grab some paper— or try to find something around here…” your eyes look around the expanse of the jungle around you, but the tightening grip on your hips makes you spin your head back to look down at him.

“no, i don’t want you to leave me.” he whines as his touchy hands slide up your sides. his fingers press into the flesh of your lower back to push you towards him, lowering your torso so your chests are flush again each other.

his lips ghost over yours teasingly, making you giggle into the very little space between your faces. “how about you just use me?” he mumbles.

“use you? what do you mean?” your face crinkles in confusion, slightly lifting up from his face by pushing your hands on his chest.

“to paint— ya know, on me.” his eyes flutter over your face with a sheepish grin.

“you want me to paint on you?” you almost gasp in shock, mouth falling open as you grin.

“i just said that.” neteyam rolls his eyes playfully with a cheeky smirk, which makes you swat at his chest. you finally fill the space between your faces by kissing him, giving him a long peck before sitting up.

neteyams lips chase after yours, following you up and leaning back on his elbows. you busy yourself looking through the bag that crosses over your chest and sits on your hip. you grab the containers of your paint, and push down on his shoulder to have him lay back down.

“fine..” he grumbles, giving up his advances to try and kiss you some more. you lay out the containers over the long expanse of his torso, using him as your easel.

you pluck a few brushes from the pocket inside your bag, smiling as your finger brushes over the soft bristles. “what do you want painted on you?” your voice is soft, almost nervous.

what if it turns out to be ugly and he has to walk around with an ugly painting on his body from his girlfriend?

“anything.” he lays back with his arms behind his head, slightly wiggling his hips under you to get comfortable. the subtle movement makes you blush from the heat that settles in your lower belly.

you pop open the bright fuschia color, dipping your brush inside of the container to soak the brush. your eyes dart over his smug face as you lean closer to his chest to focus.

the brush moves smoothly across the expanse of his upper body, swirling the paint over his collarbone and down his pectoral muscle, “ooh that tickles.” he jerks under the paintbrush, making you giggle and sit up to look at him with a joking scowl.

“sit still, you’re gonna mess up my art.” you slightly dip into the orange color to highlight the pink, flicking the paint to make little spikes around the swirl.

neteyam admires your face as you focus, almost cooing at you from your little tongue sticking out between your lips. he tilts his head to the side watch your tail sway in the air behind you. all he wants is to grab you and kiss all over your cute little face.

one of his hands unravel from behind his head to rest on top of your head, his thumb swipes across your forehead to smooth out the crinkle between your eyebrows.

you smile up at him bashfully while your hand continues to paint different colors across his striped blue skin. the pigments you picked out contrast greatly to the color of his skin, his chest slowly becoming a piece of art.

the brush pokes at his chest as you create random dots around the swirls, smiling when you sit back to admire your work. “i love it.” you mumble before hunching back down to continue with a different color.

neteyams eyes dart from between you and the blue sky that barely peeks through the canopy of the trees. he can look at all the beauty around him but all he can focus on is you. the girl who is straddling his chest and painting ever so softly across his skin.

he wouldn’t dare to tell you this though. he’s too scared to share his true feelings that he's falling for you faster than he thinks you're falling for him.

after about a few more minutes, and swipes of different colors you sit up to examine the painting that cascades down his chest. you add a few more dots with a triumphant smile, “i really outdid myself.” you laugh proudly as you pack away your painting supplies.

“oh did you?” neteyam chuckles, bringing his chin down to look over his colorful chest. his mouth drops dramatically once he sees it, “it’s amazing. seriously, you’re going to paint only me from now on. never will anybody else touch me with paint unless it’s from your hands.”

your hands cover your grin that seemingly seems like it will never falter, “stop it…” you breathe out, shaking your head from his silly words.

“no, you’re like magic. i’ve seen your other work, but i cannot grasp how your brilliant little mind works like this.” he sits up from his spot, now face-to-face with you; he’s careful to not crease the wet paint. one of his hands grip your wrists to pull them away from your face.

“‘teyam…” you sheepishly mumble, staring down at your lap with a shy smile. the feeling of heat travels from your lower belly to your upper extremities. it settles on your cheeks, and the tips of your ears with as a pink glow. he could praise you a million times, and you still wouldn’t be used to it.

“hhhmm? am i making you blush?” he teases you as his hand slides down from your cheek to your chin to angle your face up. his big round eyes look over your face, his smile mirroring yours.

“you aaarrrre.” you whine, leaning forward to press your forehead against his.

he continues to stare at you though his eyelashes, “good. i like making you blush.” he pecks your nose, “especially if it’s when i compliment my very talented girl.”

your hands swat at his chest playfully, “oh hush.” you grumble.

neteyam places his large hands onto your hips, his long fingers thrum against your lower back, “i think it’s time we go show off the beautiful art my gorgeous girl made. you'll make everyone in the clan jealous.” his knees angle up to press against your back, you're now sitting in the valley of his body.

neteyam stands to his full height, holding onto your hips as he rises from the ground. you let out a delighted cackle from the sudden movement, throwing your head back as you laugh.

neteyam's eyes dance over your face, unable to hold himself back from chuckling along with you; your laugh is contagious.

"i am so lucky to have you..." his voice trails off, his eyes try to take in every detail of you-- how your braids flow down your back, and the paint that is smeared across your forehead and slightly on your cheekbone...

your hands rest on the sides of his neck, your face brightening from his words. "neteyam... i love you." you whisper into the space between your lips.

the biggest grin spreads across his face from hearing her say those words; the first time you've ever said it to each other. her response only make his heart beat faster, and his breathing more intense. "i love you." he whispers back as he leans forward to give you another soft kiss.

it feels as if he's falling into an abyss surrounded by you, unable to crawl out. it's not like he would want to anyway, his senses are clouded by your lips, and your scent, and how your legs are wrapped tightly around his hips right now. he smiles into the passionate kiss, now knowing that his only purpose in life is to be alongside you.

-

this is what i used as inspo for the painting on him :p i found it on pinterest

[unknownati]

ii. lipstick.

THIS WITH ABBY ANDERSON METHINKSSS

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first post :) <3 also can u guys tell i rlly love lip products. pls lmk if the formatting is weird or if there's grammatical errors, i wrote this on my notes app

warnings/tags?: fluffy :P reader wears lipstick, hidden relationship, internalized homophobia?? (not really) not THAT long, lowercase intended, ow*n mention 🤢 not proofread 😜🫶🏾

___________________________________________

you weren't too popular at wlf. abby, on the other hand, was known by practically everyone. everybody assumed she was straight, especially with the fact that her and owen had dated for a while. which is exactly why nobody could know about you two.

to be honest, you didn't care, but abby did, so you went with it. you'd wait 'til you were in the comfort of your dorm to cuddle her, hold her hand, shower her with affection. did you wish that you could do it more openly? yes. but it's whatever. you still tease her anyway. tracing the dips of muscle on her arm, wiping a small bit of dirt off her face but letting your thumb linger for a bit too long, smiling at her knowingly. you knew you made her heart skip a beat. but she played it off, all for the crowd.

so when you found yourself in the comfort of her bed, cuddled up in her t-shirt, you groaned when you felt the big ball of warmth leave your arms.

"where are you going?" you muttered, rubbing your eyes at the sun peeking into the blinds.

"..gotta go, isaac called a while ago." she smiles at you, her hand reaching up to cup your cheek. you rolled your eyes. so sappy.

"so? stay with me. you barely get time with me as it is."

she sighed, her lips sealing together for a moment. "you know i can't. i'll be quick, i promise," you sat up, her hand falling from your face and back to her side.

"fine. but c'mere before you go."

abby raised a brow but leaned back over you, and you hold her face between your hands to pull her in and a kiss to her lips. her face pinks, and you press another one to her forehead. then to her cheek. then another to her forehead.

you lean back, a smile spreading across your face, then immediately falling. you forgot you had lipstick on, and there were big, red stamps of evidence strung across her face.

"what? what's wrong?" she looked panicked until you laughed, waving her on.

"nothing, go ahead."

abby shook her head, rushing to the bathroom mirror before gasping. "babe! i have to leave soon!" she groaned, grabbing a tissue and quickly soaking it with water. she tried to wipe it off her face just to find that it both barely came off, but also smeared even further across her face.

you came up behind her, watching how she struggled with the pigment spreading further across her face.

"aren't you gonna help me?" she almost sounded desperate, a laugh of disbelief stuck between her words.

you shook your head, leaning against the doorframe. "..mmm..i think you got it."

__________________________________________

the sillies 🫶🏾

[webbluvrsugar]

frat!rafe never knows how to deal with playgirl!reader, it’s just…too much for him sometimes

MEET THE AU (introduction).

You’re getting dressed in his dorm, tight sequins dress already on as you sit down in front of his desk, — that’s now turned into a makeshift vanity for your makeup — he’s thrown in the bed, lazily sitting up in it as he watches you, you’ve been playing with shimmery powders on your eyes for minutes now, but you still haven’t explained where the hell you’re going.

“Tell me where you’re leaving to again?” He asks, slightly subtle this time, one brow raising.

“No need to worry, Rafey.” You mutter, your finger swiping over the teal glitter and swiping it over your eye, humming a song.

Rafe sees how relaxed you are, but he’s taking none of it, makes him feel like you’re hiding something, it’s weird, but he wants to keep you controlled.

“Ha,” he scoffs. “real funny, sweetheart, but I actually wanna know where the fuck you’re going.” He tosses his cap on his nightstand, slightly standing up more in the process, arms crossed over his chest this time.

You roll your eyes, groaning as you fix the pigment in you eyes, turning to him with only one eye done. “You’re such — so… nosy.” You comment, scoffing.

“Listen, if you wanna get out of here, better tell me where you’re leaving to.” He stands up now, walking besides your desk as you start doing your other eye.

“Fine,” you humph, stopping what you’re doing to turn back to him. “Going to the beach with Jayj.” You pause, watching his expression. “For a party…”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, you’re going to go out with him, again? Hell no. Rafe doesn’t understand whatever you’re doing, he also doesn’t understand why you still have a friendship with your ex that clearly is trying to find a way back into your pants and specially why you’re so blind not to notice it.

“Are you fucking with me?!” He’s clearly shouting now, leaning in to look at you.

“Why would I be? He’s just a friend…” you mutter, Rafe only seems more startled than he’s been since the beginning of all this.

“A friend that has fucked you before and is trying to fuck you now.” Rafe doesn’t want to explain theses things to you, you should know them.

“Don’t say that… no he isn’t…” you turn to him, all pouty and moody while crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, get your pretty little ass to listen to me for a second.” He taps two times with his finger on his forehead, turning your chair so you can listen to him fully. “JJ doesn’t want to party with you, he wants to get you back, and if you think I’m gonna let you, my girl, go out to fall into that.” He holds your hands, bringing them to you cheeks. “Not gonna happen.” He shakes his head.

He pulls you from your seat before letting go of your hands, swiftly picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder.

“Gonna stay right here…” he walks to the bed. “And think about what you did.”

[tangents-within-tangents]

Thoughts on Echo as amputee/disability representation

First and foremost, I am not disabled or an amputee and I don’t claim to speak for those communities (and if I was I couldn't speak for everyone). What little I do know mostly comes from this youtube channel (@oakwyrm), this post, and other research I’ve done for my writing (and like one amputee I kinda knew in passing). By all means correct me and add to the conversation, I just have some thoughts I want to share because I haven’t really seen this discussed anywhere

Overview

So Echo is interesting. He is a triple amputee which is pretty rare in media. His disabilities come from extremely traumatic circumstances: injured in a near-death experience, imprisoned and dehumanized as an experiment with no autonomy over what happened to his body.

There are a few moments in the shows where Echo is treated… questionably. Like this bit where Rex uses him as an example of the Separatists' evils to convince the locals to fight back:

To be fair, yeah Echo’s treatment does prove that the Techno Union is not neutral like they claim. The modifications that everyone is gasping in horror at here obviously weren’t made with comfort and accessibility in mind, nor with Echo’s consent. But you still just want to be sure that “They took away his freedom, his humanity, they tried to turn him into a machine” is about using him as a living computer, not the fact that he is missing limbs. 

The Batch is also pretty insensitive toward him and his trauma imo, which is weird considering they've supposedly also faced discrimination for their mutations

Disabled people do have to deal with stuff like this in this day and age so I guess it can speak to those experiences. I think especially him being mistaken as a droid (and Hunter going along with it (bruh)) might resonate with some people. 

Aside from that stuff, Echo isn't really treated any differently as a character/person which is really good (as low of a bar as that is).

We get this moment in CW where Echo contemplates that yeah things are gonna be different now

While also (imo at least) showing that he is still the same person regardless, evidenced by the fact that he just echoed Rex :,) I also think it's significant that he joins the Bad Batch on his own terms and we're given a really emotional scene to specifically show that he's not just like 'lumped in with the other misfits' but that it is his choice to go where he feels his place is.

A lot of people, myself included, are disappointed that TBB didn't have more time to explore Echo's PTSD, but I think the one panic attack scene we did get is really good. Even thought it's minor it at least is an appropriate reaction from a guy who was medically tortured (which is more than I've come to expect from Star Wars shows lol)

And it's really sweet to see Omega showing Echo some empathy and consideration.

It would have been nice to see more of his adjustment period, and other side effects like chronic pain and maintenance, but there’s a lot of daily life stuff the show never had time for (i.e. we don’t know if he removed his prosthetics to sleep, but we also never saw him sleep anyway). His disabilities might take on a background role (much like the character himself sadly) but for the most part they aren’t invisible or erased, nor do they define his character and arc.

Physical Appearance

Okay this one is bit dicey, bc on the one hand, yes complaints that Echo’s paleness (most likely caused by burns from the explosion or chemical burns from the cryo-chamber) is whitewashing are totally valid. But I also think you can draw comparisons to real life conditions that affect pigmentation/complexion (like you know burns). So while I understand why a lot of fanart will depict him with his original skin tone and with hair, consider that there are real people who have to live with temporary or permanent changes to their appearance, and the idea of “fixing" him by making him look more like his old self can be problematic.

It's also interesting to note that Echo could act as a reversal of the 'disabled/disfigured = evil' trope. He's pale and bald and wears black and red, which is so often visually associated with villains, but we all know Echo is the bestest boy™

The Headpiece

Echo’s headpiece is interesting because within the show we don’t actually ever learn much about it (idk if there is more info in books or whatever bc i don’t have them so?). He didn’t have it in CW so we know it didn’t come from the Techno Union and therefore Echo probably had more choice with it. We don’t know its exact purpose but it’s most likely related to his scomping abilities. When he is hacking with his scomp in CW, before he has his headpiece, it’s clearly very mentally straining:

We don’t see him struggling like this in TBB once he does have it (though that could be bc he got more used to it over time). There doesn't seem to be much of an impact when he removes his headpiece in s3 ep14-15, except that he gets stuck in the ports every time he uses his scomp which is not something we’ve seen before: 

There might not be an exact real-world equivalent, but the headpiece is some kind of accessibility aid. It means that someone specifically designed a device to help him adapt to the changes the Techno Union made, as well as a helmet that integrates it. It’s removable and visually very present, much like a cochlear implant would be. (A lot of people actually headcanon it to act partially as a hearing aid, since it makes sense that Echo’s hearing would have been damaged in the explosion, but there isn't really any indication of this in canon.) The headpiece is never really acknowledged in the show, but I think that's a good thing. It's something he needs/wants and it just exists, completely normalized, and that's pretty cool 👍

Legs

Sigh... So from the very first episode of TBB I was really disappointed that the animation team or whoever completely visually erased Echo’s prosthetic legs (I think we all were, honestly, if fanart is anything to go by). It’s one thing when he’s in armor because he would probably want to protect his prosthetics, but we literally see him in his blacks and there is no indication whatsoever that he lost his legs even though it was not left up for debate at all in CW:

Like ??????!?

This is just really strange to me! Idk what went on behind the scenes with this decision but I don’t really see why it would be that much harder to animate or anything since it’s 3D and they've done it before. We do see some pretty sophisticated cybernetic technology in Star Wars canon that mimics real limbs:

But Luke’s fancy hand is technically 20ish years from now, so Anakin and Maul are more of a representation of what level we could expect here

So yeah, for no apparent reason, his leg amputation is effectively, visually and narratively nonexistent. Which is not great 👎

Arm!

The scomp on the other hand (uh lol!) is the complete opposite and I kinda love it!

At first I, like many others, thought it was a bit odd that they didn’t give Echo a prosthetic arm. Losing hands is basically a Star Wars tradition at this point, so robotic arms/hands are well established within the worldbuilding: 

We aren’t necessarily given a canon reason for why Echo doesn't get a cybernetic arm (again unless it's in some lore book I haven’t read, sorry). General fanon explanations I’ve seen are that he either couldn’t because the Techno Union wired the scomp too far into his nervous system, and/or the resources to give him one were deemed too expensive for a clone (what about his legs tho?), or that he chose not to, usually because he thought the scomping was useful. 

Regardless, I actually really love this choice (and it's the whole reason I made this post), because here's the thing: There’s a lot of problematic tropes out there that either erase/cure disabilities or compensate them with perks (like how pretty much any blind character is actually not blind by some sort of magic power). With amputees that is done with robotic arms. The character is still an amputee or course, and there is still value in that representation, if this story from Mark Hamill that makes me tear up is anything to go by:

but for the most part these characters function like anyone else, just with a limb that looks a little different. It’s no more than a video game skin, an able-bodied actor with a green screen glove. It “cures” the disability, or it actually makes the character even stronger than usual: 

It usually makes sense within the world of the story, but the reason it’s not so great in my opinion is that in the real world we just do not have technology anywhere close to that yet. Prosthetics can more or less replace any mobility from lost legs, but not for all the complexities of a hand (and even if they could the average person wouldn’t be able to afford it).

So

I think it's actually really super cool that Echo’s scomp bypasses the canonically-established amputee erasure and functions much like a stump would irl. He integrates it into his movements and everyday life and it’s (as far as I know) a lot closer to an everyday amputee’s experience. 

It doesn’t define his character, it doesn’t hold him back, he lives a full life, the other’s don’t treat him any differently, and he’s still a total karking badass 

The only additional thing is that he sometimes uses it as a weapon (which given his story, I think it’s cool to see him taking back autonomy in a way, and we only see that like twice)

And also the scomping, which could be seen as the 'added/compensating superpower' trope. But narratively it's no different than if he was plugging in with a hacking gadget of some kind (he didn't necessarily "need" to lose his arm for it) and it’s not like Echo is completely defined by this skill. Personally, I think it's well worth the positives of him actually having a visible and realistically impactful amputation. 

I see a lot of posts or comments out there that say stuff like “how come Echo doesn’t get a hand?” or fanworks that do give him one and I just think it’s a bit of a shame. If he did get a robotic hand, it just would have disappeared the same way his legs and Anakin’s arm did (aside from that one time he got yoinked by a magnet). When Echo did “get a hand” in the last two episodes there were comments like “yay he finally got a hand! but it doesn’t even work” but I was actually so relieved that it didn’t! Bc for one thing that wouldn’t make any sense, he grabbed it off a droid, it wasn’t designed to implement with his scomp, that would be really complicated. But more importantly because it again refused to erase/cure his disability! It functioned like a real-world cosmetic prosthetic (useless beyond appearance) which is exactly what he needed it for, so that he could blend in better with his disguise.

And he continually took it off throughout the episode and ditched it at the end. He only used it for the necessity of a stealth mission, he doesn’t feel the need to visually “fit in” in his daily life. 

And, last but very much not least, he made a dad joke and from my intel that is very accurate representation!

TLDR: Echo’s scomp is actually really cool from an amputee representation perspective, especially within Star Wars, and I think that deserves some appreciation 

[despairots]

can you write...you force miles 42 to take selfies but hes not into it but hell do anything for you?

━━━━━━━━ hey, smile!

earth42! miles morales x gn! reader. just fluff and miles being absolutely hooked for you. spanish translations my not be accurate since they’re from google translate! i always forget to add the translations at the end of oneshot so i’ll try to remember but its school so and i live in canada gasp

does anyone remember that meme with the “hey, smile!” camera shutter? cause i do and i felt like it match so giggles. anyways you must love earth 42 miles — i do too but earth 1610 still my boo.

he hated taking photos, like he really did, and most people knew that he did. but god, he must love you so much to the point where he agreed to do this with you.

miles grumbled at the constant question of, “can i take a photo of you?” from people all a like, especially you and his mother.

his hands caressed your waist, keeping you slightly away from him as you kept trying to take photos with him, “mi vida, please.” he sighed with his hands now on your face, making you look at him.

“eres cojo, miles.” you scoffed with an eye roll, “even your mom agrees, right, mrs morales?” you looked over to his mom with a smirk, she laughed at the two of you.

“[nombre] tiene razón, millas.” she placed a hand on her waist, a smile showing that she was enjoying the lovers quarrel. “mamá!” miles groaned at his mother.

you giggled, giving miles a quick peck on the lip before going over to his mother, “mrs. morales, since miles, here, doesn’t want to take pictures, wanna show me his baby pictures?”

you threw miles an evil smile over your shoulder as mrs. morales squealed in excitement, miles wouldn’t admit it but he did want to take a picture with you.

he went behind you, hugging your waist as his head was in the crook of your neck to hide the light pigment on his cheek.

“aww, he’s so cute when he was adorable.” he could technically feel the way you smiled.

“but he’s a lot cuter now.” you chuckled as you felt miles grumble into your neck, he’s accent, the way he held himself up, the braids in his hair, everything about him was photogenic.

“you guys are so cute.” mrs. morales commented, pinching miles cheek who let it happen. “take [name] to your room while i prepare dinner. es mejor que tu habitación esté limpia.”

“si mamá.” he took you by the hand, guiding you to his room, “you’re such a mommies boy.” you sat on his bed, smiling up at him as he just smirked.

that smirk, you wanted to kiss it off he’s face, your boyfriend is so cute.

“i love you so much, cariño.” miles kissed you on the nose as you glarrd at him for not kissing you directly, “not even a kiss on the lip.” the pout on your lip made you even cuter.

miles lightly chuckled, pushing you onto your back to cuddle, one of his hand caressing your cheek with love in his eyes.

“why don’t you like photos, cariño?”

“i don’t.” he always had a quick response, “then why don’t you take photos?” you propped yourself up by your elbows, “never crossed my mind, mi vida.” he grabbed you by the waist, pushing you back down and pulled you towards him to cuddle.

you smiled and grabbed your phone from your pocket, swiping left to open the camera app, taking a few photos of miles, thinking that he didn’t know.

he obviously knew but he didn’t tell you. he loved you, adored you. he spoiled you so much, whenever you two went shopping, he used his money, his card.

even if you went shopping by yourself—to be groceries or something— you’ll be using his card.

he worshipped you like angel from above that was sent down for him, and as his the prowler and possessive (even though you are too), he wouldn’t let anyone touch you, anger you.

he knew what to calm you down, make you happy, respected your needs, he wanted the best for you. after his father had died, you completely shut himself off until you came back to the city.

you giggled, miles looking over your shoulder seeing that you were sending the photos to his mother. he smiled and placed a warm, chaste kiss on your cheek.

“i love you, mi vida.”

you turned around to look at him, hands on his cheek as you placed kisses all over his face. first on his forehead, his eyelid, his nose and then a quick kiss on the lip.

“i love you too, miles.”

“no nickname?”

“i love you too, cariño.”

[simplydannie]

Velvet and Veneer One-Shot

“It Was An Accident”

(Trigger Warning)

Artwork done by my friend @djpixelskitten. You can find her work on TikTok: dj_pixels_kitten. She captured the scene and brought it to life beautifully!! Please go check her out!!

What if Velvet and Veneer never made it to the yacht? What if Veneer decided enough was enough and took a detour? Unfortunately, Velvet hasn’t been herself… leading her and her brother to a downfall….and leaving a giant hole in Floyd’s heart

“Follow that vehicle!” Poppy cried as Velvet and Veneer drove off.

The siblings twisted and turned in the highways of Mount Rageous. Veneer kept looking back as the Trolls neared closer and closer…. Something in the pit of his stomach told him to stop, to call it quits.

On his left shoulder pad, Bruce could see the concern on the kids face.

“You can stop this you know. Before it gets worse for you and your sister.” The small Troll attempted to talk reason to him. Veneer was silent for a moment…

“I can’t. We’re to far into this.” He replied.

“And you can still get out.” John Dory exclaimed in the diamond opposite Bruce. Veneer turned back to look up at has sister; a pink pigmentation glowing around her eyes.

“Vels?” Veneer asked, concern stricken across his face.

“Keep driving!” She practically yelled. She stood up on the car. “WHATS UP MOUNT RAGEOUS! You didn’t think we’d give you a boring old stage show did you!”

The cars around them bustled in cheers.

“Vels, maybe this isn’t a good idea!” Veneer called back to his sister.

“I said drive moron!” She glanced behind them as the Trolls continue to catch up. Velvet stood back up on the car… she began to perform.

The star cameras fluttering around her as she sang. Veneer looked back at his sister again… this wasn’t her. Something began to come over him…like the effects of something began to wear off…

“What have we done?” He murmured. Veneer looked around the highways; he had to get him and his sister out of this mess… he had to get them away from the public eye.

“Kid? What are you thinking?” Bruce asked.

“Hold on. We’re taking a detour.” Veneer switched the car away from the main highway, taking a constructed path empty of other vehicles.

“What the heck Veneer!” Velvet exclaimed. All the cars stopped as they couldn’t follow them.

“Where are they going?” Branch asked. He steered Rhonda to follow the siblings. Veneer kept swerving has the road they were in was still under construction, he avoided any obstacle he could.

“Go back Veneer!” Velvet cried out.

“No! We got to stop this now sis! Just look at yourself this isn’t you!” Veneer called back as he kept his eyes on the road. The star cameras were still following them, flying around them as they continued down the road. Veneer looked at them… this was his opportunity.

“Cameras on me!” He called out. They hovered around him, Velvet looking at everything happening with a confused expression.

“Listen up Mount Rageous!” He called into the cameras. “We. Are. Frauds!” He finally said. The Trolls on his shoulders smiled proudly as Veneer finally had full control of himself. “We kidnapped and tortured our only friend.” He continued to speak. Veneer glanced back to look at Floyd in the diamond Velvet wore. A small smile coming across his face. “We signed a contract with someone who lied to us, manipulated us, and led us down a dark path, not even caring for us. We’re done!”

“No! No! Shut up! You idiot!” Eyes glowing pink she lunged for her brother.

“Wait no stop!” Clay yelled in her chest piece.

Veneer attempted to push off his sister and take control of the vehicle at the same time… swerving to and from.

“Vels stop! We’re going to crash!” Veneer called out.

“You ruined it! You ruined everything!” She said as she began to hit him.

“Kid watch out!” Bruce yelled… but it was too late. Their vehicle hit some concrete barriers. The impact f sent the siblings flying out of the vehicle. Out of instinct, Veneer reached for his sister… he hugged her close. His eyes squeezed shut, he prepared for the force of impact, hoping he could shield her from anything he could.

The went skidding, tossing and turning all over the rubble and concrete floor. Their car flying in pieces along with them. They both landed with a loud SMACK on the floor… the impact sending them rolling in opposite directions. The force of the impact made the diamonds fly out of their chest pieces, sending the small Trolls skidding in different directions….. Then there was silence.

Moments passed as Branch, Poppy, and Viva finally caught up to them…. Thats when they saw the wreckage. Rhonda came to a stop, Branch walking out to the horror.

“No! No!” Branch ran to the broken vehicle which was now on fire. “JD! Clay! Bruce! Floyd!” Branch called out as tears began filling his eyes. Please be alive, he hoped. Poppy and Viva took off the opposite direction attempting to look for his brothers.

Branch was nearly giving up hope… until…

“Branch over here!” It was John Dorys voice. Branch ran quickly and followed it. The small Troll walked upon a scene that he would never get out of his memory.

John Dory and Floyd were there in front of him, still in their diamond prison…. There laying next to them, with debris from the crash laying on top of him… was Veneer. His face scratched and bloodied… his body broken. Branch could see he was struggling to breathe.

“We got to help him.” Floyd begged…. But Branch saw what Floyd couldn’t… the Rageoun was broken, literally broken.

“Floyd..we…we can’t….” Branch began to say.

“PLEASE! HELP HIM!” Floyd begged again with tears in his eyes.

“….Floyd….” The voice was soft but audible. The small Troll turned around to see Veneer looking at him through glassed blue eyes. Floyd moved his diamond close to the Rageoun.

“….im sorry….” Veneer said softly, his lungs barely having enough air to speak. Floyd smiled softly.

“It’s all in past. Stay with me okay. We’re going to get you and Velvet out of this mess. Okay? Stay with me.” Floyd said. JD and Branch stood back watching, tears in their eyes. Veneer nodded.

“….. okay…..” But that was it. He stopped moving, stopped breathing. He lay there motionless, his eyes distant….gone.

“Veneer?” Floyd called out. He moved his diamond prison bumping the Rageoun lightly, hoping he’d move again. “Veneer!” He cried out again…. Nothing…Floyd placed his hand against the diamond near the boys head, wishing he could hold him one last time.

“Branch!” He heard Poppy’s voice. Branch turned to find Poppy running to him, tears streaming down her face. “Clay and Bruce are over here! But…it’s also Velvet. She’s hurt bad!”

Floyd didn’t want to leave Veneer just lying there… but he was gone… now he could only hope Velvet could be saved.

“Where is she?” Floyd asked.

They made their way to where the girl was lying. Unlike her brother, nothing was on top of her suffocating her… but she was hurt…. Very hurt…. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her legs…. Tears were streaming down her eyes.

“It’s hurts.” She cried. Floyd ran up to her.

“I’m here Vels. We’re going to you a hospital okay?” Floyd said. He had just lost Veneer…He couldn’t loose her too. She looked at the small Troll…

“Where’s Veneer?” She asked. Floyd fought back tears.

“We’re going to get him out too.” He said. Velvet shook her head… she knew that look, she knew the tone of his voice.

“Tell me truth…” She demanded. Floyd could only look at her, letting himself cry.

“….Im sorry…” He said. Velvet bit her lip and looked away. She began to sob uncontrollably.

“…. It was an accident…I didn’t….i didn’t mean too. I don’t- I dont know what came over me. Veneer I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” She cried.

“We need to get help now.” Clay said as he saw the state she was in.

“No! No I don’t want to!” She continued to cry. “ I need my brother… I can’t do this without my brother!” She turned to the direction to where her brothers body lay… ever so slightly, she could make out his shape… “I’m sorry Vennie.” She then turned to look at Floyd. “I’m so sorry…”

She continued to cry, blood began seeping from her nose and mouth. Floyd’s heart began to pound.

“Stay with me Vels okay. I need you here… please.” He said.

“This…this is my fault. I hurt you… I got my little brother killed…I did this...” She stared up at the open highway…the clouds of Rageous began to clear… the moment she saw the sky, a peace came upon her. “….I’m sorry…” She said on last time…Taking her last breath, her eyes glued to the sky.

“Velvet!” Floyd called out. “No Velvet please!” He fell to his knees inside the diamond…

“I can’t loose both of you.”