#✰. —– isla •「 DIALOGUE. 」❜

[daggerfall]

I feel like we're all aware of the headcanon that the Hooded Figure that leads you to your death at the hands of the Worm Cult, is actually Meridia - given the fact she has the same model and voice as the Groundskeeper and the glowy Meridia from Coldharbour.

But do people still remember the theory that General Gautier (Darien's dad) isn't a real person?

The fact he's always wearing a full face helmet, the fact Darien has few memories of his childhood and none of his mother, the fact they work together in close proximity in the town guard.

Darien himself isn't a real person - he's a creation of Meridia - so who's to say General Gautier (never given a real first name) isn't Also a fake person, likely a daedra with some sort of glamour to make people not question him any further?

IM JUST SAYING...

[tallsc]

(Disfruta La Isla AU)

On one hand, they're a strange formerly-incredibly-powerful being that has personally kidnapped multiple of your parents before and worked with the organization that is causing most if not all of the problems on the island.

On the other hand, the dad collection must grow.

Priorities

The Disfruta La Isla AU is an AU where Cucurucho was removed from the Federation and lost all creative mode and Federation powers. They are now trying to adjust to living on the island and learning more about their old employers.

Masterpost

[alitgblog]

ahhhh thth3 is so good so far and I like being a bombshell but I wish we got more time to meet all the LI's all at once instead of having to select each one for certain moments bc I already picked Taz initially, and therefore I just keep picking him.

and so i know nothing about Isla or Carmen but I know a ton about Taz (and also I keep picking the wrong choices with him which is fine but I'm kinda like oh no they're too opposite so if I had time earlier on aside from reading their profiles in the main menu, maybe I'd figure out that I'd actually prefer to romance someone else)

So AFTER reading the profiles, I did replay the badminton episode bc I was like oh jirayu is nerdy and I made my MC nerdy so that's great, but also when I first played it, Mattias was really cute too? Either way I was living for jealous Taz interrupting though 🤭

by far worst part of the game is that I had to download a separate app again for it and I could not find it in the play store I had to Google it 😫

[amicocasio]

closed starter for @mortalisla location: hakan's christmas RAVE note: he on demon time

It seemed like Evan had a babysitter for the night. Good. Amico had no problem with having the kid around, but how was he supposed to make any sort of move when there was a toddler staring up at him the whole time? That would just be half annoying and half uncomfortable. Anyway, what better time to make his move than at a rave? This was his kind of party, but he had a feeling it wasn't really hers. And that just meant he was going to show her around and make sure she didn't get lost. Who knew what would happen by the end of the night? Maybe a kiss. Maybe something else. Who knew? She was giving him the time of day. He might as well have gone for a kiss at some point. The fact that he hadn't in this long time they had been talking was just unlike him. It was fine though. Tonight would be the night. He was sure of it. Or, well, he hoped it would be. Eh, whatever. He'd play it by ear. "You having fun? You look like you might be missing some dancing in your life. I'm a great teacher, I'll have you know. Little samba maybe?"

[opulcnccs]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒. closed to isla sinclair @ofgildedhearts 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. the gardens of astor manor 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 & 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. february 1887, garden party

one could feel the sigh of relief that swept through the city streets when invitations of astor gold appeared at the doorsteps of the city's finest. its arrival signaled that the social season would go on — as they all knew that it would — george dupont's demise and the drear and drama that came with it notwithstanding. in truth, agnes was better suited to social events that transpired under the cloak of night. the dresses were finer, and flutes were filled with champagne instead of lemonade.

while they had not been seated at the same table, agnes now strolled with her future in-law, surveying the crowd assembled before them. she held a glass in her hand, partly filled with lemonade, but upon acceptance she'd undone a flask and poured some gin. thus far, if anything endeared her to the arundels, it was their exorbitantly priced liquor cabinet. there was also alastair's cousin, of whom she was fond in part because of her birth superior to her kin. "the astors' charade of our fine london society is almost endearing. i hope for your sake you are a fine croquet player. i, for one, have never had an affinity for games with balls."

[harellanx]

closed starter for @mortalisla location: caught you slippin note: yikesies

This was quite a decent body that the Great Old One had inhabited. What it could do was even better. They were sure that Harellan wouldn't mind all the bloodshed that would occur from their actions. It actually seemed like the hollowborn wasn't fighting much at all. That made this all the easier for them. Nevertheless, embracing the demigod they inhabited as someone of importance was something they would not do. Instead, the illithids all under their command were what they used to their advantage every time they found one of those little stragglers hanging about. This one that they had found though? Well, this one would be fun. A young teenager named Evander, a halfblood, hadn't been their target, but he would be useful in getting to the real target. Really, she wasn't anyone of importance. Just some dreadful human that wasn't even worthy enough to be inhabited by an illithid. Her son was though and he was now under their control.

It was easy to get the poor faiman to do their bidding. A quick call to mom and she was already on her way to see him. Pathetic little humans. All stupid and all useless. The flash of red hair was what they saw first. They started speaking just she came upon Evan and them. "Your son has told me so much about you, Isla. You can think of me as a friend."

[elliotglr]

"Uh, James Dean, me falta el cigarrillo y ya tendría el look completo" le sigue la broma moviendose un poco, como si eso sirivera para que el agua desapareciera "Nah, no te preocupes es agua, en un rato se seca" con la diestra le resta importancia al momento de seguirle, tienen cosas más importantes en las que pensar, un poco de agua no le va malograr su día "¡Ya! La verdad fue bastante sencillo, en cuanto llegue nos mandaron a Toledo, así que casi todo estaba en las maletas" conversación tribial, su mirada se va al horizonte por si el cachorro volvía "vine a despejarme un poco, probar la gastronomía local, dicen que el chocolate suizo es riquisimo, ¿lo has probado ya?" la volteo a ver con una suave sonrisa "¿quieres ir a descubrirlo?" la invita sin más al alzar las cejas de manera divertida, realmente deseaba conocer a quien sería su compañera de habitación. * @islariya

‘ sólo tienes que peinarte el cabello hacia atrás y te verás como james dean, ¿ves? todo era parte de mi plan ’ bromea. lo cierto es que con tanto sucediendo a la vez, no supo en qué enfocarse prioritariamente; quizá es cierto que lo hizo en el orden invertido. ‘ no te mojaste tanto, ¿cierto? ven, alejémonos un poco más por las dudas, él nos va a encontrar de todas formas ’ asegura, buscando a la lejanía al animalito que todavía va en busca de la pelota que le han lanzado. ‘ ¿qué hacías por aquí, un paseo? ’ inquiere, curiosa. ‘ ¿ya terminaste con la mudanza? ’

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + fifteen

authors note: next chapter will be a lot heavier, because we see shit play out. italicized dialogue indicates that spanish is being spoken.

ya'll better not come for me after this one either, okay! 😭

just know the plot is plotting, ya'll

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, angst, roman being a dick to anyone other than his wife, and violence

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

masterlist

words: 10k

The newly opened doors of intimacy have awakened a previously dormant part of Solana.

Something she previously thought impossible to access, permanently damaged as a result of her trauma.

But, she was wrong. 

So, so wrong.

Roman is everything she never allowed herself to dream about having, let alone actually hoped to have in real life.

Caring, considerate, gentle, patient.

Their first time together is something she’ll never forget and always cherish. But, it’s the times afterwards, sporadic over the past two days since the consummation, that have almost meant something more.

A testament to her comfort and trust in him.

Of her love for him.

Sitting in bed, in between his legs, leaning into his strong body with nothing but the thin 600 thread count sheets covering them, Solana sketches, no particular drawing in mind, just whatever is felt in that moment. And what’s felt is the image and scenery of the water, of the beauty that is Isla Mujeres. Her mom was right. There’s nothing like it.

“I think—I think I want to come back here sooner rather than later.” Solana finds herself partially wondering aloud but also wanting to pick her husband’s brain. “I know you probably won’t be able to come, and that’s okay. Maybe…maybe Bayley can come with me?” It’s both a suggestion and a question. 

Roman makes a sound against her, his lips lingering along her temple, long fingers moving gently against the side of her breast under the sheets. “Whatever you want, I’ll make happen. Bayley will go with you.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip, shading a palm tree. “But, what if she has plans?”

“She will. Plans to go with you.”

A small smile falls on her face. “How do you know she’ll just agree with you?” Solana has an idea of what he’s going to say, and she’s correct. 

“People do what I tell them to do, and if they don’t, they face the consequences. And no one wants that, so they just do it.” 

She doesn’t doubt that one bit. Because no matter how sweet and caring he is to her, that’s where it stops. With her.

Because to anyone and everyone else, he’s Roman Reigns, ruthless, brutal leader of the Bloodline.

And she’s accepted that. Accepted that he has to juggle two different hats.

She’s just happy she gets the best of him.

“I Facetime’d Naomi today and got to see Dulce.” As much fun as she’s having, as healing as this trip has been for her, she misses her sweet puppy deeply. “Guess who’s taken to her?”

Roman chuckles, looking back with a bit of shock. “Jimmy?”

Solana nods, grinning as she remembers overhearing Jimmy ask about where ‘fluff fluff’ is. “Naomi says he’s even got her sleeping in the bed with them.”

“Well, she damn sure ain’t doing that with us.” His voice takes on an authoritative tone. Not that she’s in disagreement. Dulce is too small for that. Roman would literally smother her. “Our bed is occupied.” He ghosts his lips over the shell of her earlobe. “Gonna be real busy when we get back home….”

Solana tries instead to focus on the drawing at hand versus that familiar feeling pooling in her stomach. 

Continuing with the topic in the hopes of settling that feeling, she shares, “I want to do something nice for Naomi and Bayley when we get back. They’ve—they’ve been so nice to me.”

It’s something she’s been thinking about ever since the beautiful birthday messages she’s received. Having never really had many friends, to be able to land such solid, loyal people like them is something she doesn’t take lightly. She doesn’t know quite yet how she wants to show her appreciation, but she’s determined to come up with something.

An idea crossing her mind, Solana suggests, “maybe they both can come stay here with me for a week?”

His mouth moves back to the side of her face. “Mmmhmm.”

“Like…..like a girls trip.” Solana has never experienced one of those and just the thought of having one with the two of them has pre-excitement already forming.

Roman sighs, clearly distracted by his lips exploring her face. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Turning her head to the side to look up at him, small smile on her face, Solana asks, “are you listening to me?”

Roman hums against her skin. “I’m always listening to you, Solana.” Her eyes flutter as his fingers shift and move under the generous swell of her breast. “Probably the only person that’s the case for…..” His mouth moves to her cheek. “But, it’s hard to focus with you naked like this…..”

The pencil in her hand naturally drops against the sketchbook, her head lolling backwards, lips pressing together. “Roman….” 

This is such a new experience. She’s never desired to be touched or craved such intimacy until Roman. Even with her trauma, there’s a pull that seems to have been unleashed with the consummation of her marriage.

An urge that has her thighs pressing together, something Roman most definitely takes note of. Eyes darkening with lust and something else, he asks, voice almost hoarse, “are you sore?”

She is, but not nearly as sore as she was after their first time. And certainly not to the point where she wants to decline.

“No,” is the answer she settles on, Roman’s lips on hers in a matter of seconds. She shifts her body so she’s straddling him, the feeling of him hard and warm between her legs making her moan in his mouth. Roman easily switches positions so she’s on her back, him hovering over her. 

He breaks the kiss, asking once more, “you sure?”

Solana licks her lips, forever thankful for his constant efforts to receive her consent. “Yes.”

His eyes burn with need. “Could be inside you like this all day….” He brings his hand to the back of her thigh, lifting her leg and opening her up more as he gradually descends into her slick warmth. “And definitely all night….”

Solana would be lying if she said she didn’t feel somewhat of the same way.

________

She wakes up with a growing familiar ache between her legs, soft sheets against her nude body, and her husband pressed against her, his arm draped over her, holding her close to him.

But, he’s not sleeping. She can feel his mouth hovering over her shoulder. Her smile grows a bit as she thinks about their last lovemaking session, so passionate and fulfilling. Another round of him giving her pleasure she didn’t think possible.

However, it’s when she glances at the clock and sees the time, her eyes widen a bit from the shock. “Roman, it’s almost 2 o’clock….”

He’s never been more uninterested. “And?” Lips traveling the length of her arm, he murmurs against her smooth skin. “You’d never leave this bed if it was up to me….”

His statement, half joking, half serious, makes her smile, but it also helps her realize she has to be a bit more outspoken about what she wants.

Holding the sheet against her chest, she rolls onto her back, informing, “I want to go out to the marketplace today.”

He scowls. “Around people?” 

“Yes, people.” She giggles, moving her hand to his face, beard tickling her palm. “We only have two more days here. I want to bring back gifts for Naomi, Bayley, and your cousins”

It’s the mention of the twins that makes him roll his eyes as he falls back into the mattress. “You always trying to take care of the homeless.”

Solana giggles, hovering over him, hand on his chest. “That’s so mean, Roman. They’re not homeless.”

“Then why the hell are they always at our house?”

She shakes her head, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna go get ready.” 

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t prevent her from leaving the bed and doing just that.

And in less than two hours, both showered, fed, and dressed, they’re out of the house and on their way to the market.

Adolfo López Mateos is the municipal market and offers a trove of items for Solana to pick from. Countless authentic options for her to bring back home as gifts but also as souvenirs for herself, reminders of this wonderful place that will forever hold such beautiful memories for her.

A place that also leaves her feeling so connected to her maternal side. 

To her mother.

Roman serves as the quiet, always surveying husband who remains by her side the whole time as she goes from stall to stall. He serves as her personal shopping assistant as well, holding the growing number of bags for her purchases.

But, he handles it exceptionally well, never once complaining. Granted, she is mindful of the fact that the crowded market and all of the fellow shoppers and merchants seem to well exceed his tolerance for people in general.

So, she does make note to try to wrap it up sooner rather than later.

She’d never want to take advantage of his kindness and generosity.

Solana is at a stall looking at fabric when stiffening beside her drags her attention to her husband as well as what’s caused him to tense. 

A child.

A little girl. Around 8 or 9. She has dark hair that’s down and unruly, the light breeze in the market causing it to splash against her tanned face, hazel eyes landed directly on Roman. Her hand is outreached, a flower in hand. 

Solana recognizes it rather quickly. She steps forward, asking in Spanish, “is that for him?”

The little girl looks over and nods, directing her gaze back on Roman. Solana does the same, small smile on her face as she informs. “She’s giving it to you.” 

His expression is unchanged as he asks. “Why?”

Solana giggles. “It’s an Alstroemeria. They represent friendship.”

“This random ass kid wants to be my friend?”

Solana rolls her eyes. “She’s being friendly.” Seeing Roman has no intentions on further acknowledging this child, she gently shoves him. “Please?” The ‘for me?’ doesn’t need to be asked as Roman sighs loudly and accepts the flower followed up with a muttered ‘thanks.’

Pleased, the little girl beams, suddenly motioning both Roman and Solana to follow her.

Curious, Solana asks, “you want us to come?” 

She nods excitedly, pointing a few stalls down to where flowers bloom. Solana asks, “That’s where you got these from? You want us to see the rest?”

Another nod, and Solana finds herself following the child, Roman begrudgingly on the heel of her, committed to his not allowing her to explore a stretch of land or sea on this trip without him being right there next to her.

Even if it means forced socialization. 

Solana allows the child to guide them to the stall that’s filled with the most beautiful, intricate flowers she’s ever seen, some of which she recognizes from conversations with her mom.

“Look how beautiful…..” Her eyes land on the powder pink ones, a brief realization setting in as she asks the little girl, “are these sword lily’s?” 

Again, the child offers only a nonverbal acknowledgement via a head nod, and Solana starts to wonder if her silence is by choice or limitation. Either one, she can kind of relate to. 

Turning to Roman, Solana explains to him, “these are sword lilly’s. They represent sympathy and memories.” Memories…Solana has plenty of those. The good, to some extent, starting to outweigh the bad.

He looks more uninterested than the actual tone of his voice. “Do all Mexican flowers have some sort of meaning?”

“Some. Not all.” She answers, fingers gliding over the petals. “And it’s not always flowers native to Mexico, just flowers that we have meaning attributions for. Culturally.”

“You are correct.” A voice enters the conversation, Solana watching a woman step out back from behind the stall. Her hair is a deep onyx, thick and wavy, her skin lightly kissed by the sun that also highlights the beauty of her eyes. Fine lines give away that she has some years under her belt, but it’s hard to tell just how many. She switches languages, “You don’t speak Spanish like a tourist.”

Solana realizes she must have overheard her asking the girls about the flowers. “My—my mother was a Native.”

“She taught you well.” Her smile grows, warm and friendly, familiar in a weird sort of way. “What is your name, child?”

“Solana.” She gestures towards Roman who’s still looking just as uninterested as he’s been in any other type of social interaction outside of Solana. “This is my husband, Roman.”

“I figured.” She motions to Roman’s closeness to her, the way he stays almost hovering, protecting and caring but still pretty close. “He’s very protective of you.

Solana nods. She has no idea. “What is your name?”

“Paloma,” she introduces, removing one of her work gloves to shake Solana’s hand. The younger woman is slightly grateful that Paloma doesn’t try to greet Roman in the same manner. She’d surely get her feelings hurt. “What brings you here?

Again, a gesture to Roman with her thumb. “He surprised me for my birthday.”

Paloma makes a sound and smiles wryly. “Ahh, so it’s only others he’s unfriendly with.”

“He….he’s very quiet.” An ironic choice of words considering just who is saying them, but it’s the best word to come to mind to describe Roman without being mean. He is technically quiet, but the fact that it’s because he, in his own words, hates people isn’t necessarily something that needs to be shared. “Do you really grow all of these?”

“I do.” The proud smile on her face makes Solana smile just as warmly. “I own a nursery about twenty minutes out of here. A family business that my mother and her mother and her mother started generations ago.”

“That’s so beautiful.”

“It was….” The use of past tense causes Solana’s smile to dim a bit. She can sense there’s a story there, a story that no doubt holds some level of pain. Paloma shakes her head, gesturing to the flowers. “Were you wanting to buy any?”

“Uhhhh….” The technical answer is no. Solana would have probably stopped to admire the beautiful flowers, maybe tried to identify one or two, but it would not have gone beyond that. It’s the little girl who Solana realizes is behind the stand, poorly sneaking glances at Roman, who called them over. “Yes, I—”

“She brought you over, didn’t she?” 

“Yes.” Solana lowers her voice, asking as gently as she can. “Does she speak?”

“Yes, but she prefers not to. Very shy. Parents fight a lot. I don’t think she really gets a lot of space to talk.” And the frown is back. Solana can definitely understand that. “Do you two have plans tonight?”

“Uhhhh.” Solana turns to Roman, asking, “did you have anything else planned for us this evening?”

“If she’s trying to get us to do something around other people, yes. I’ll find something.”

Solana rolls her eyes, lightly scolding in her soft voice, “Roman, that’s not nice.”

“Solana, I’m pretty sure we had this conversation already. I don’t like people. I hate people. You’re the only one I like.”

Solana decides to win him over later versus now as she turns to Paloma with a friendly expression that contrasts her husband’s scowl. Something tells her he already knows she’s about to sign them up for something that forces him to be around people. 

“We’re free this evening. Why do you ask?”

________

“Tell me again why we’re meeting this random ass old woman for dinner?”

Solana is only seconds away from applying her lip gloss when Roman’s question deters her from her task, creating a new one in its place. Capping it, she walks out the bathroom, leaning against the doorway. “Her name is Paloma, and she’s really sweet, and she invited us.”

Turns out, Paloma owns one of the restaurants in town Solana remembers stumbling across when she was perusing other places to visit while on their trip. It’s just a crazy coincidence that Solana ended up running into her and receiving a personal invite to dine there for dinner this evening. 

And it’s an offer she didn’t want to turn down. 

“Are you sure she didn’t just invite you?”

Curious, she asks the question she’s almost certain she already knows the answer to. “Would you let me go by myself?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.” Walking over to Roman, Solana glides her hands up his chest, locking them behind his neck. “It’s just a dinner. We won’t even be there that long. Then…tomorrow, it’s just the two of us.”

“It could be the two of us tonight too….”

His fingers dance across the small of her back as she bites back a smile. “Roman, it’s been the two of us this entire trip already, basically….”

“You know I could never get enough of you…” He gently squeezes the sides of her stomach, sliding into reluctant acquiescence. “But, you know I can’t say no to you either so….”

She smiles and leans up and presses a kiss against his cheek, murmuring, “thank you.” Taking a bit of a mile with the inch she’s been given, she implores, “can you….try to be a little more friendly? For me?”

Roman looks at her like she just asked him to let her go alone. “Solana….”

“Just for tonight.”

“Do they even speak English?” She gives him a look that’s just another form of ‘for me?’ He tilts his head back and scratches his beard. “I’ll try not to maim or kill anybody. That’s the best you’re getting from me, baby.”

“Thank you.” She kisses him again, turning for the bathroom when he pulls her back to face him, and right away, she recognizes that look. “Roman….”

He ignores her, both casually and suggestively complimenting, “I like this dress.” It’s combined with him slowly moving one of the hands on her waist down the length of her dress until he can slip his hand underneath.

“T–thank you…” She swallows, struggling to stay focused. “We’re—we’re gonna be late.”

“Too bad.” He moves his hand between her legs, gradually sliding up her thighs. “Should have thought about that before you put this on.” He kisses her temple, asking in a low voice, “do you want me to stop?” At the same time, his hand pauses on her skin.

The logical answer is yes, but the carnal answer is the complete opposite. And desire seems to overpower logic in this round. “N–no.”

It’s the perfect answer for her husband whose full lips form into a smirk as he removes his hand to guide her towards the bed as he lays her on her back. Solana half expects him to move on top of her, but he instead moves to his knees and tugs her toward the edge of the bed.

The anticipation of what pleasure is to come makes her lick her lips, prematurely moaning his name, “Roman…”

His brown eyes flick up to her, desire and lust dancing away in his irises. 

Yeah, they’re most definitely going to be late.

________

The night goes as expected, Solana enjoying herself, and Roman enjoying that his wife is enjoying herself despite the fact that being surrounded by a bunch of fucking strangers who speak mostly in Spanish has him subtly checking the time on his watch more often than not.

The desire to pick up the language grows exponentially. Roman dislikes being out of the loop in any sort of capacity.

Solana translates for the most part, granted it’s mostly things he doesn’t really care too much about. Paloma asking what he thought about the food, requests to join in the dancing—that’s a hell no—and other pleasantries that violate his religion of Anti-Peopleology. 

Except his wife, of course.

And to be fair, they’re able to share their dinner together without many interruptions, conversation staying between the two of them, which he appreciates. He’d appreciate it more if no one was there to interrupt, but alas, Solana having a smile on her face almost the whole night makes it all worth it.

She seems exceptionally taken with the little random ass girl from the market whose name he doesn’t bother to remember. Something with an A, he’d guess. She also seems just as interested in Solana, which he doesn’t entirely not understand. She’s relatively mute with the exception of a couple of words and sentences.

It reminds him of Solana and how nonverbal she was at the beginning of the marriage. And something tells him the girl also reminds her of herself. Which makes the pull between the two make more sense than maybe he’d like to admit.

But, his inner dialogue is interrupted as the old lady approaches the table where he sits alone as Solana dances with the child, both of them smiling and laughing. 

“You’re not the social one of the two of you, are you?” She asks what he considers both a stupid and ironic question. Typically, Solana isn’t this social either. But this….this place….it seems to bring out a different side of her.

A happier side of her.

Roman only casts the old woman a bored glance. “This is her world. Not mine.”

The woman chuckles, and to Roman’s chagrin, sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Yes, I suppose this is very different from the Bloodline.”

Her statement doesn’t surprise him, doesn’t take him off guard, and that’s because Roman isn’t stupid. He would never allow some practical stranger to invite his wife for dinner at a restaurant she owns without researching her. 

Paloma Aguilar. 70. Widowed. One child who seemingly disappeared without a trace over twenty years ago. Her late husband, Ricardo, was a man who at one point entered the world of the cartel and smuggling, but it was short lived as he passed away from a heart attack at the age of 45. His brother, however, Tomas, is still actively involved, but Paloma couldn’t be farther removed.

From his research, Roman could see she truly prefers to live her life away from the in-laws business, preferring her restaurant and gardening, the polar opposite of the high-paced crime life. 

But, it would be ludicrous for her to not be aware of him and who he is, regardless of her preference to stay separate from that life.

Curious, though he already knows the answer, he asks, “when did you realize who I was?”

She smiles, “soon enough.” The lack of specificity annoys him even more than he already is. “Probably around the time you found out who I am.”

Interested to see how she’ll respond, he asks, “and just who are you?”

Her smile is small and sad. “Just an old woman living out the rest of her days in solitude.” Roman has experienced enough loss to be able to recognize when someone else has also had the misfortune of losing someone. It’s evident in her tone. 

Still, that doesn't diminish his disinterest in this conversation.

She also looks over at his dancing wife, casually commenting, “I suppose it’s true that opposites attract.”

Eager to stir this woman away, Roman responds with all the casualness. “I’m not Solana. You could be 90, and I’d still snap your fucking neck if you presented any kind of threat to my wife.”

It’s uncalled for. He knows this. A misplaced threat against an elderly woman, sure. But, it’ll hopefully be enough to get her to leave him the fuck alone. 

She smiles, partially surprising him. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, young man.” Her grin dims a bit. “I would never judge a man for protecting the woman he loves.”

Roman tenses, effectively managing to keep his reaction to her statement to himself.

Love

What the fuck is that even?

He knows…..familial love. But….romantic love? 

That’s….that’s such an unfamiliar concept. Something not even in his repertoire. 

He can’t deny that he likes Solana. A lot. Cares for her deeply, and recognizes that he needs her in his life. Needs her light in what is otherwise dark and dreary.

But…..

To say that he loves her….that’s too much. That’s too strong.

Too dangerous.

Love is weakness.

And Roman can’t afford to be weak. He won’t. Not for anything or anyone. 

Not even Solana.

But, of course, this old ass woman just has to twist the knife even deeper as she stands up to leave. “You two will make great parents.” Roman is an expert at hiding reactions to what’s being said to him, but this one takes some effort. A lot, if he’s being honest. “Your protectiveness. Her nurturance.”

With that, she finally leaves him be, but not without a million and one thoughts floating through his mind, all of them now revolving around two things he’s never considered for himself.

Love and children.

________

As the night comes to an end, Solana pulls Aurora, the sweet little girl who’s taken a liking to her and a crush on Roman, to the side. 

“I have something for you.”

Aurora’s eyes light up with all the excitement of a child eager to receive an unexpected present.

Solana hands over the beautiful journal she picked up in the market earlier that day. Originally a gift for herself, but now something that she wants to pass on to the little girl who reminds her so much of herself. 

Aurora’s mouth drops open with surprise as she accepts the leather journal. Solana smiles and explains, “When I was a little girl, I didn’t talk a lot either. But, my mom always told me that when I couldn’t speak, I could always write.” She frowns a bit, instructing. “And that’s what I did. I wrote until I found my voice. The same way you can.”

Aurora looks up with teary eyes and surprises Solana by attacking her with a big hug. Solana easily settles in the embrace, holding and hugging the little girl in a way that every child should be comforted.

Aurora pulls back and offers a simple, “thank you!”

Solana blinks back some tears. “You’re very welcome.” Her smile shifts into something teasing but also hopeful, “now I expect to see you when I come back to visit, okay?”

Aurora nods happily as she gives Solana one more hug before running over to an older woman who Solana would guess is her mother.

“She’ll never forget that, you know.” 

Turning to the source of the voice, Solana’s smile grows. “I hope not.”

Paoma chuckles and moves closer, repeating the same words. “I have something for you too.”

She pulls out a cloth jewelry bag and takes Solana’s hand, placing the bag in it. “Open it.”

Confused but curious, Solana does just that and gasps almost immediately at the beautiful gold necklace she recognizes instantly. “A Cruz de Caravaca.”

Paloma looks pleased by Solana’s knowledge and asks a follow up question. “How much do you know about these?”

Swallowing the emotion, she recalls the information taught to her so long ago. “They—they ward off evil and bring protection.” There’s an almost bitter tone that enters her voice. “My mother had one….” It’s the most Solana can bring herself to say, because her mother wore one almost religiously. And it did nothing to protect her from the evil of her father.

Or the knife that viciously tore and sliced through her body, violently ending her life. 

Paloma nods, complementing, “whoever taught you our ways taught you well.” 

Emotion burning the back of the throat, “it was my mom. She—she died when I was young.” Murdered. She was murdered, but acknowledging that feels too much, is too much. Regardless of how her life ended, it all means the same.

That she’s not here anymore.

Paloma’s expression is solemn as she lifts her right arm, turning it inward, revealing her tattoos. Two Hummingbirds. “Many years ago, I lost my daughter. And shortly after, my husband. I—I didn’t really know how to go on after that. She was my only child, and he was the only man I ever loved.” Her smile is emotional. “But then I remember that love never dies, it transcends into another form. They’re not here in the way I want them to be, but they’re still here. And every so often when I’m in my garden, I see Hummingbirds, and I feel better because I know they’re still with me. Watching over me.” 

Solana wipes at her eyes as Paloma places a comforting hand on her arm. “And so is your mother.”

It’s hard to verbalize what she’s feeling in this moment. Paloma’s words provide her with a type of comfort that feels almost motherly, an ironic feeling considering the nature of the conversation.

“Thank you.” It’s such a simple thing that doesn’t feel strong enough for how much Solana appreciates such comforting words of support. 

“You have a good heart. A kind soul. But, be careful child.” She takes Solana’s hands in her own. “My….my daughter was like you. Loving and giving. But too trusting, and it cost her her life. Betrayal and darkness can come from where you least expect it.” 

Paloma’s words confuse her. The warning aspect of it. What…what exactly does that mean?

“Stick with that husband of yours….” Paloma adds, smile gradually returning. “He is protective of you the way my husband used to be with me.” 

That ebbs away some of her confusion regarding the ominous warning, as Solana suddenly asks, almost tentatively. “Could I….could I come back and see you too?”

Paloma chuckles, and Solana almost swears she sees emotion brewing behind the woman’s wise gaze as she pulls her in for a hug.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t, child….”

________

He’s not entirely surprised to find her in the kitchen, but that doesn’t necessarily make her presence in the kitchen any less concerning. Especially when she’s supposed to be on bedrest.

Roman comes up behind her, smiling when she jumps a bit as he hugs her. Years later, some things remain the same. 

Solana turns around, a warm smile on her pretty face. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” Not necessarily. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to find it in him to be sorry for touching his wife.“Hi.”

“Hi.” She giggles as he kisses her. 

Eyes shutting a bit as he relishes in the feeling he’s craved dearly for the past few weeks. “I missed you all.”

“We missed you too,” she murmurs, moving her hands up his chest. “You look tired.”

He’s a bit jet lagged, but it’s nothing he won’t bounce back from in a couple of days. That’s the least of his concern, anyway. Roman moves his hand to her stomach, big and swollen, pressing against his abs. “You should be resting.”

Solana rolls her eyes and calmly counters, “not with how active this one is.” She moves his hand around, probably trying to find a spot where he can feel the movement. “He’s definitely your son.”

He counters, “even more reason to be resting.” 

She shakes her head, changing the subject a bit as she softly shares, “they’ll be happy to see you. I didn’t tell them you were coming home early.”

His eyes light up a bit as he asks, “where are they?”

Solana chuckles. “You already know.”

Roman makes a sound and nods, murmuring with a final kiss to her temple, “I’ll be back.” 

He walks out of the kitchen and into the hall, moving to the back of the house.

Two separate rooms, directly across from one another, each providing a variety of different activities and spaces. Most completely opposite one another. Expected, given their staunchly different personalities.

There’s no active decision regarding which room he walks in first, no specific desire to see or interact with one over the other. He just so happens to venture left vs right. 

And sure enough, as predicted, she sits at the table, so small but perfect for her. She’s focused on the paper in front of her and crayon in her hand. So focused to the point where she misses his entrance, doesn’t overhear his footsteps until he’s only a few feet away from her.

But when she does, big brown eyes landing on him, eyes that are exact replicas of her mothers, the crayon is dropped and the smile is out. She jumps up from the seat and runs over to him, Roman leaning down just in time to catch her hug, an instant ease washing over him, deeper than what’s allotted even with his wife.

This is something different, something deeper, something he still doesn’t quite know or believe he deserves to feel. But nevertheless, it’s present, it’s felt, and it’s wonderful.

When she pulls away, he finds himself pushing back some of her curls, light and fluffy, framing her face that’s the perfect combination of himself and Solana. “I missed you…” Her smile grows as he asks, eyes narrowed a bit. “Were you a good girl for your mom while I was gone?” She nods excitedly and reaches for his hand, Roman standing as she guides him over to the table where she was drawing. Roman crouches back down as she shares her artwork, an in-progress photo of the ocean, most likely scenery she’s memorized from one of their many trips to Isla Mujeres. “Is this what you’re working on?” Again, another nod as she points between the drawing and him. He points to himself. “Is this gonna be for me?”

Instead of the expected no, she answers in her voice, so soft and light. “I’m sorry it wasn’t done in time….”

A small smile grows on his face. She’s very much unlike her sister, of very few words. So much so that Roman insisted he and Solana discuss her quietness with the pediatrician to make sure nothing was wrong. And of course, nothing was. It’s just that she inherited quite literally Solana’s entire disposition. Quiet with a great big heart that seems too pure for this world.

And, unfortunately, a tendency to apologize when unnecessary.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.” His praise seems to bring back her smile as he kisses her forehead. “Fa'afetai tele.”

She matches his smile, surprising him yet again with more spoken words vs non verbals. “E le afaina.” 

Standing back up, he informs, “I’m gonna go see your sister. Can you go help mom finish cooking dinner?” He knows Solana is almost done, if not already, but Roman also knows that personality and disposition weren’t the only things inherited. So were passions and interests, hence the drawing.

And cooking, judging by the way her eyes light up as she dashes out the room to play assistant.

Roman chuckles and walks out, hitting the switch as he moves across the hall, once again unsurprised by what he finds. She’s going at it with the freestanding punching bag, kicks that are pretty impressive considering her age. Her face is scrunched up in determination, the same face as her sisters yet so different. 

Where one is soft and quiet, the other is loud and bold. One is timid, the other adventurous. One is Solana, but this one….she’s her father’s daughter, through and through. Bold and fearless. 

“Don’t forget to point your toes.”

His deep voice breaks through her concentration as she whips her head to the side, a reaction similar to her twin sister. A huge smile breaks through that impressive focus.

“Daddy!”

Again, he moves to one knee to catch her for a hug, tight and heartwarming. She pulls back almost immediately, asking with all the excitement. “Did you see me?”

“I sure did.” He comments on what’s more than obvious. “you’ve been practicing.”

She nods with just as much excitement. “Aunt Bayley and Aunt Naomi said I’m really good!”

“You are.” He wouldn’t lie to her. She is. But, he also knows it’s because this is her passion. Where her sister finds joy in art and books, she gets that joy from movement, from fighting, her gravitation towards martial arts happening at such a young age. 

“I’m gonna be better than you!” He chuckles. At not even a fraction of his age, she already is. And it has nothing to do with her natural fighting abilities. 

“We’ll see.”

“I am!” She affirms, so determined and focused. “I’m gonna wear the ula fala and be Tribal Chief just like you, daddy!”

Roman does his best to keep that small ounce of concern hidden and tucked away. Young. She’s too young to know just what she’s asking for, the weight that comes with what he does, the truth about what and who he is.

It’s been the decision of both himself and Solana to shield the girls from it. The truth of it all. For now. As long as they can, at least. But the girls aren’t dumb either, they know he holds a high rank, one of the highest, in his family.

And his spitfire of a daughter seems determined to do the exact same.

“Cousin Jamar was saying I can’t cause I’m a girl, but I told him he’s just a stupid boy and I’m way smarter anyway.”

Roman’s eyes narrow slightly as asks the question he already knows the answer to. “And you hit him too, didn’t you?”

Even when he has to be away from home, Solana makes sure to keep him informed of all happenings with the girls, especially this one who’s already gotten in trouble a couple of times at school for her mouth.

And fist.

Her eyes drop as she pouts slightly, murmuring, “he made me mad….” His temper. She definitely has inherited that too. “No one talks about me, you, mommy, sissy or my new baby brother, or I’ll punch them in their face.”

This is the part where Roman struggles, where he tries his best to tap into that part of him that feels so unfamiliar. Because his initial response is that she did nothing wrong, that she’s doing exactly what she’s entitled to.

Protecting her family and standing up for what she believes is right. 

“It’s important to know when to fight, and it’s a lot harder not to sometimes.” That’s the best he can come up with in the moment to not necessarily let her know he doesn’t see much of an issue with her behavior. “I’ll teach you.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “I get to train with you?” A request she’s had for at least the past two years, Roman pushing it off and allowing Bayley and Naomi to help her because his level of training is far too intense for her young age.

But

That doesn’t mean he can’t modify his approach a bit. 

“Yes!” She jumps up and down, hugging him, another small smile on Roman’s face. Some kids like to play dolls, like his other daughter, but this one….this one lives for a good fight.

And speaking of, the calmer of the two of them coming running into the room, Roman turning just in time as she smiles and tugs on his shirt, motioning for them to follow her.

“Is dinner ready?” Learning to understand her even with the absence of speech has come second nature for all of them. 

She nods, as the other one breaks the hug with Roman, asking her twin with all the excitement and competitiveness. “Wanna race?”

Roman already knows the answer, watching as his more quiet child is suddenly waiting for her sister to count them off. Seconds later, the two of them rush out the room on a trajectory that’ll lead to Solana who will no doubt chastise them for running in the house.

But they come back, giggling together as they stand in the doorway, hitting him with both a question and a demand. 

“Daddy, are you coming?”

“Daddy, wake up!”

Roman shoots up from the bed, hulking shoulders moving up and down in sync with his heavy breathing. Movement to the side of him shows him Solana shifting in her sleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

It’s the exact opposite of how he feels. 

Moving his hand through his silky, wavy locks, Roman takes the blanket off of him and carefully moves out the bed, prioritizing not disturbing his wife. 

He blows out a breath and walks out the double doors that bring him to the patio, his big body settling down on one of the chaise lounges.

It’s only then he asks himself the burning question at the back of his mind.

What the fuck was that?

Roman doesn’t really dream a lot, and when he does, they’re more along the lines or nightmares.

Night terrors when he was younger.

But this……he doesn’t even know what the fuck that was.

Children.

Roman has never really seen himself as a father, never allowed himself to think about it because it’s never really been a desire. He’s always known that he would have to create an heir to carry on his legacy, but that’s a thing of duty. Not desire.

So why the fuck is he dreaming about having not one but several children with Solana?

Solana….

Her oath a few weeks back of giving him an heir returns to the front of his mind. It makes him wonder all of sudden what her view on children is. Does she want children? Without inside knowledge of her trauma, one would think that’s an obvious thing. She would have never married him, never agreed to the arrangement when the sole purpose of the union was to create a child if she didn’t, in fact, want a child. 

But, Roman knows her, knows her trauma. Knows that she was forced into this.

Which makes him incapable of shooting down the possibility that maybe she doesn’t even want children?

And then he thinks about her tonight, thinks about the permanent smile on her face as she interacted with that little girl, the way she interacted with several of the children present who came up to her.

She looked….she looked happy. 

Content.

And of course, the now haunting words of the old woman who Solana also seems to have heavily gravitated towards: 

“You two will make great parents.”

Thinking about and being completely honest with himself, he sees it for Solana. Could….could see her as a mother.

But seeing himself as a father….that’s something he can’t answer. Can’t understand, really. 

The same way he can’t understand why there’s a small part of him that’s upset he woke up.

Upset that the dream didn’t last just a little bit longer. 

Upset that he’s now thinking heavily about what the old lady predicted.

Himself and Solana as parents. 

Fuck.

First the love comment, now this?

Damn that old woman.

________

Something is off with Roman.

Solana has noticed it ever since the night of the dinner at Paloma’s restaurant. She figured it was maybe because Roman really can only withstand so much social interaction. Chalked it up to him needing the night to sleep it off.

But, it was there the next day and the day after that and even as their trip in Isla Mujeres came to an end. 

On the jet ride back home, he’s quiet, working diligently on his work laptop. She tries her best not to think too much of it, because it’s not like he’s ignoring her. He still talks to her, still interacts with her, still touches her, but it’s just….off.

There’s like this….this distance that she can’t understand.

A distance that hurts. 

It’s why she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to not get too into her head over her dress. It’s probably the most risqué thing she’s ever worn, more skin showing than she would prefer to be exposed. But, a small part of her hopes it will catch Roman’s attention.

Hopes it can progress the touches into something more.

Because along with his distant behavior, there’s been a lack of intimacy between them. And that’s especially hard for her to not think too much about. Because, to her, it was going well. She….she enjoys being with him in that way. Being that close to him.

She thought he did too.

Roman suddenly knocks on the bathroom door, asking, “you almost—damn.” Him stopping himself puts a smile on her face. 

Solana chews on her bottom lip, asking, “do–do you like it?” She then motions to her chest that’s heavily exposed. “I know it’s—it’s a lot.”

Roman moves closer to her, eyes raking over her slowly, hand moving to the back of her, under her dress, cupping her ass. “You sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?” A small smile starts to form on her face at his suggestive tone. “The two of us…naked.”

Her stomach flutters with excitement. This is the first time in days that he’s expressed any desire to be with her in that way, and now she’s beyond grateful that she pushed past her insecurity and put on the dress. Because it’s brought out that side of him that she’s been missing.

The side that makes her feel like he wants her.

A hand on his chest, she murmurs, “when we get back.”

Because while she also has a desire to be intimate with him, she’s also excited to see their friends.

Naomi, Bayley, and the twins inviting her (and naturally, Roman) out to a VIP lounge to have a belated birthday celebration since she wasn’t available to do anything with them for her actual birthday. She’s excited to see them, to be around her friends. 

“Are you….” Solana doesn't know where exactly it comes from, the bravery and confidence to ask what she’s about to, but it seems to leave her mouth before she can really think too much about it. “Are you okay?”

His gaze takes a curious tone. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, suddenly nervous about how to word it right. “I don’t know. You’ve just seemed….kinda off the past couple days.” He swallows, and she sees something flash in his eyes, something he shoves away. Something she’s now just as curious about. “Is–”

“I’m fine,” he answers. For some reason, she has a hard time believing that. “Adjusting to being back has just been irritating. I’ve never taken a vacation before, so shit has just been an annoying adjustment.”

Solana nods, believing there could be some truth to that. She doesn’t doubt it’s been an adjustment for him. But, there’s also this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that there’s something else he’s not telling her.

“O-okay.” Something tells her this conversation will need to be revisited, just not right now. Not when it’s clear he has no desire to express whatever is really bothering him.

Roman dips his head and kisses her cheek. “Let’s get out of here. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can be inside you.” She giggles, gasping as he slaps her ass. 

“Roman!”

________

The lounge is beautiful. Reminiscent of an upscale club, minus the packed bodies and loud music. It’s clearly geared toward upscale clientele, and the second level of the lounge has been rented out, space cleared for their small party.

Something she greatly appreciates. Both for herself and Roman. Her husband already sacrificed so much of his preference to be isolated from others vs surrounded by people on their trip. 

The group separates naturally, Roman and the twins with Solana sitting near Bayley and Naomi, the two women nearly bursting at the seams with a ton of questions/statements.

“How was it?”

“We already know it was nice considering we barely heard from you.”

“Dulce mama was out here living her best life.”

“You got a lil tan too!”

“We want to know everything.”

Solana giggles, shrugging. “It was really nice.”

Bayley scoffs, “just nice? Girl, you gotta give us more than that.”

Solana opens her mouth, pausing a bit. “I mean….we spent a lot of time together.” Her eyes fall over to Roman who’s surprisingly engaging in conversation with Jimmy and Jey. Solo, as well. His presence surprised her. 

She didn’t know he was coming. Not to mention, she didn’t think he’d want to be present for anything that’s not required when it comes to her.

“And?”

Solana knows they’re not intentionally asking about sex, but their questions are unintentionally pointing her to share just that. And for some reason, most likely the trust and bond she’s formed with them, she’s not opposed.

That doesn’t stop the maddening blush from forming on her cheeks as she shares, “we—well, we finally, umm—”

Loud gasps interrupt her, Naomi being the one to ask the infamous question, “Solana, did ya’ll….” Solana chews on her bottom lip, nodding softly.

Bayley and Naomi have to cover their mouths to hold in the screams that would no doubt draw all of the wrong attention.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Bayley exclaims, suddenly asking with all the protectiveness, “he was good to you, right? Didn’t pressure you—”

“No. No. Never.” That’s probably the easiest thing to answer. Solana doesn’t know how to properly express how good Roman was to her. Has been to her. “He was—it was perfect.”

Naomi smirks, playfully nudging Solana’s shoulder. “We told you it was great with the right person.” They couldn’t have been more right. “So….was it just once or—”

Bayley scoffs. “We cannot be asking her all these intimate details!” Only to then casually ask, “so like how big is his dick really?”

Naomi falls out laughing while Solana’s eyes widen at the graphic nature of Bayley’s question. 

“So you can ask about his dick size, but I can’t ask about how many times they’ve done it?”

Bayley protests, sipping some of her Vodka as she counters, “my question is for science.”

“Bullshit!” 

Solana shakes her head, giggling as she coyly answers, “we…it’s been a couple times.”

Naomi smirks. “Okay, girl, I see you. Ya’ll went to Mexico and got freaky.” Solana takes a sip of her bottled water, more than certain her cheeks are a red, hot mess. “Seriously though….I’m happy for you. With what you’ve been through, you deserve to have a happy, healthy, sex life. Every woman does.”

“She’s right.” Bayley agrees, and Solana finds the emotions brewing again. 

Never did she think it was possible, that she could have just that. A healthy sex life. Just how she never imagined she would end up with someone as amazing as Roman. Yet both of those things are exactly what have happened, and she’s never been happier. 

“Wait, does this mean we’re gonna be godmothers soon?” Bayley asks an otherwise normal question that has Solana still in her seat. 

Naomi chimes, “I mean, she’s not allowed to be on birth control, and I know Roman had to have broken his condom only rule since they’re married so….”

Solana has a hard time saying anything, has a hard time not thinking about something that should have been considered the moment that barrier was broken.

Roman and Solana have consummated their marriage.

They’ve had sex. 

Several times.

Unprotected sex.

They are actively having unprotected sex.

Naomi is right in that not once did Roman bring up protection. 

It has her wondering now if he didn’t bring it up because, in his mind, they’re now working on creating an heir?

But, she dispels that theory pretty quickly, remembering how determined he was to help her not feel any pressure regarding them conceiving a child. He’s never seemed too concerned with that part of their marriage deal.

Unless….

Unless it was because they weren’t sexually active, but now that they are….

Suddenly, another conversation with Roman regarding just what the plan is for that is on the agenda.

Along with whatever it is that’s bothering him that he won’t open up about. 

Bayley and Naomi must pick up on her change and mood, switching the conversation to something regarding some mess that kicked off at the Warehouse between Nia and some person named Mia. Solana does her best to follow along when she feels her phone vibrate in her bag. 

Pulling it out, she unlocks her phone and opens up messages, specifically the unopened thread from an unsaved number.

Unknown: Did you really think you would get away with fucking us over?

Unknown: You were warned.

Unknown: What happens next is on you.

The phone drops out of Solana’s hand the minute she’s done reading the text. She can barely breathe, barely process what’s happening as her head snaps up, eyes frantically searching for the one person who’s now been kicked to the front of her mind.

Roman

She spots him, expression unreadable as he sips on a beer, speaking to Solo.

Solana jumps up from the sofa, ignoring Naomi and Bayley asking what’s wrong. She kicks her heels off and makes a beeline straight for him, uncaring about the bodies she has to squeeze between, the few individuals who she actually shoves out of her way. Something at any other time she wouldn’t dare consider doing. But this isn’t any other time, this is life or death.

Literally.

“Roman!”

His eyes snap with hers seconds before she successfully makes her way over to him. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. She can barely breathe, and she’s certain that she’s trembling, but none of that stops her from rushing out, “we have to get out of here!”

His hands move to her face, cupping it, taking note of her frantic state as he asks with all of the protectiveness. “What’s wrong?”

Eyes watering, she opens her mouth. “I—”

That’s as far as it goes, the most and only thing that she’s able to express because before she’s cut off. Roman’s gaze lifts above her and the last thing she sees is the slight widening of his eyes as he shoves her to the side of him with so much force that she slams against the ground, her head bouncing off the carpeted floor.

But, that’s not what catches her attention. Not the shock of him pushing her so harshly, putting his hands on her in a way she would have never thought possible. No, that’s not an issue at all, because the sound that only seems to have registered upon her fall is what has her attention snatched and fixated.

A single sound that she hasn’t heard in years.

A gunshot. 

And then chaos.

There’s shouts, there’s screams, there’s people running around in a mass panic, but a single voice cuts through all of that: clear, loud, furious. “Get her out of here now!”

Roman.

And it’s the sound of his voice that makes Solana snap her head to the side, eager to lay eyes on him in the midst of this chaos.

But, it’s when she does that everything changes, the world stops and time stands still.

“No.” She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move, can’t function because all she can focus on is the sight of Roman’s men with a perimeter around him, guns lifted and aimed, ready to fire off at a moment's notice. “Roman!” She tries to climb up off the floor, tries to get to him, to see him, to touch him. 

Solana is unable to look away from the sight of him holding onto his shoulder, face grimaced in pain, blood seeping through his long fingers.

But before can get to him, before she can actually touch him, another voice calls out, “cover me!” And she’s suddenly off the floor, body pressed against a stranger, the interaction causing her to try to jerk away. 

Partially because of the contact, mostly because she needs to get to Roman.

“We gotta get you out of here!” Solo’s voice, harsh and determined, makes her realize he’s the strange body that she also now realizes is trying to get her the hell out of dodge. “Now!”

And it’s right then and there that another gunshot rings out, followed by several more.

Solana’s panic nearly triples as she tries to push him away, tears burning her eyes, “no! I’m not leaving him!” Solana beats her fist against Solo as he continues to drag her, Solana begging, “don’t make me leave him!” The tears are spilling over, the last glimpse of Roman showing Jimmy and Jey rushing over in his direction. “Please!” Solana continues to cry out his name, fighting a losing battle against Solo who is successful in ushering her out of the emergency exit located in the back. 

Once outside, he has to keep dragging her down the fire escape staircase, because she doesn’t stop trying to push him away and doesn't stop from trying to get back to Roman. Solana can’t stop replaying the nightmare that has just become a reality. 

She has no idea where Naomi is. Where Bayley is. Only able to see the twins and Roman before she was ripped away from the scene.

Roman….

He pushed her to protect her.

Moved her out the line of fire and took the bullet intended for her.

He’s been shot because of her.

He’s been hurt because of her.

And it’s all her fault.

[mikaylathenerd5]

Game Day Heat + One Shot

Masterlist Summary: Joe Anoa’i, WWE’s Tribal Chief and a Georgia Tech football legend, shares a thrilling game day at Bobby Dodd Stadium with his girlfriend, Isla Navarro, a cybersecurity specialist and fellow Tech alum who once dreamed of him from afar. The electric atmosphere of the Yellow Jackets’ victory fuels their passion, setting the stage for a night of intense connection in Joe’s luxurious Midtown condo. As their shared history deepens their bond, Joe’s wrestling-honed stamina and Isla’s admiration for her campus icon lead to a fiery, emotional evening that blurs the line between fantasy and reality. Will their love shine as brightly as the Atlanta skyline? Warnings: This one-shot contains mature themes. Please read at your own discretion. Explicit sexual content (graphic descriptions of sex, including oral and penetrative), Light BDSM (light bondage, spanking, Daddy kink), Squirting, Emotional vulnerability, Alcohol consumption (wine), Mature language (profanity, explicit dialogue), Brief mention of an age gap, Voyeuristic elements (implied) Authors Note: Might have gotten carried away lol but hope you enjoy. Trying something different for once. This can be read as a standalone from the book series. But as always, feel free to leave a comment 💛🖤💛🖤 Word Count: 5.7k words

Bobby Dodd Stadium, Atlanta, GA

The air at Bobby Dodd Stadium crackled with raw energy, the stands a vibrant sea of gold and white, the scent of grilled hot dogs, spilled beer, and fresh-cut grass hanging heavy in the September breeze. The crowd roared as the Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets sealed a victory with a last-second touchdown, the stadium lights casting a golden glow over the field, the atmosphere electric with triumph, the distant hum of Atlanta traffic a faint undercurrent to the cheers. Joe Anoa’i sat in the alumni section, his massive frame filling out a fitted Georgia Tech hoodie, the fabric stretched tight over his broad shoulders, his tattooed arm wrapped possessively around his girlfriend, Isla Navarro. The game-day intensity stirred a fire in Joe—he’d been a star defensive tackle for Tech years ago, his name still a legend among fans, his legacy etched into the turf below. Now, as the Tribal Chief of WWE, Joe was known for his unmatched stamina in the ring, dominating matches with a relentless endurance that left opponents exhausted and fans in awe—a trait that carried over into every aspect of his life, especially with Isla, who’d admired him from afar during her college days. Isla, who’d attended Tech much later, pressed herself against his side, her gold Tech T-shirt clinging to her curves, the soft cotton catching the light, her dark hair tumbling in waves over her shoulder, her eyes bright with joy as she cheered, her voice hoarse from shouting, her laughter a melody that warmed Joe’s chest.

Isla had always respected Joe’s legacy at Tech, the stories of his unyielding spirit on the field a quiet inspiration during her own student days, though they’d never met back then. As a computer science major, she’d been deeply immersed in her studies, often camped out in the Clough Undergraduate Learning Commons with her laptop open, debugging code or working through complex data structures, her determination to excel in her field driving her through late nights and endless cups of coffee. But even amidst her rigorous academic schedule, she couldn’t help but overhear the whispered legends of Joe Anoa’i—the star defensive tackle who’d graduated years before her time, his name a symbol of grit and glory on the field. She’d catch snippets of his games playing on a loop in the student lounge nearby, her eyes occasionally flickering to the screen, a small smile tugging at her lips as she imagined what it would be like to meet the man behind the myth, though her focus always snapped back to her coding projects, her dreams of a future in cybersecurity taking precedence. Now, as his girlfriend, she felt a deep thrill watching the game with him, the reality of being in his arms a dream she’d never thought would come true, his warmth a steady anchor amidst the chaos, his scent—a heady mix of cedarwood cologne, leather, and the faint musk of sweat—wrapping around her like a lover’s embrace. Joe’s hand rested on her thigh, his calloused fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns on her skin through her jeans, each touch a spark that set her nerves alight, his grip possessive yet tender, a silent promise of the night ahead. “You’re a fuckin’ vision in gold, baby,” he murmured in her ear, his deep voice a low growl, the sound vibrating through her, making a sharp pulse flare deep in her belly. Isla blushed, her cheeks warming under his gaze, her voice teasing as she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, the scent of her jasmine perfume mingling with the stadium air, “Wait ‘til you see what I’ve got for you after the game, Daddy—your college crush has a surprise.”

Joe’s eyes darkened, a storm of desire brewing in their depths, his grip tightening on her thigh, the pressure sending a jolt of heat to her core, his dick twitching in his jeans at the nickname. “You’re playin’ with fire, baby—gonna make Daddy burn for you,” he growled, his voice rough with need, his lips grazing her earlobe, the heat of his words sending a shiver down her spine, her panties already damp with anticipation. “I can’t wait to get you alone, Isla—gonna make you scream for me,” he added, his voice a low rumble, the promise making her walls flutter with need, her heart racing with anticipation, knowing his stamina would ensure a night of relentless pleasure. The crowd’s final cheer marked the Yellow Jackets’ win, the victory fueling their adrenaline as they left the stadium hand in hand, the Atlanta skyline shimmering against the night sky, a glittering backdrop to the fire building between them.

They arrived at the luxurious condo Joe had rented for the weekend, a sleek penthouse in Midtown with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city’s twinkling lights, a modern kitchen with gleaming marble counters, and a spacious bedroom with a king-sized bed draped in crisp white sheets, the scent of fresh linen mingling with the faint musk of their anticipation. Isla insisted on cooking dinner, her way of grounding herself after the game’s intensity, and Joe couldn’t tear his eyes away as she moved around the kitchen, her hips swaying with a natural rhythm as she prepared a creamy pasta dish, the scent of garlic, basil, and parmesan filling the air, the sizzle of the pan a soft counterpoint to the pounding of his heart. “You need me, baby?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes tracing the curve of her ass in her jeans, the way her T-shirt hugged her waist, his dick already half-hard at the sight of her, his mind racing with thoughts of how his stamina would let him take her apart piece by piece, over and over, until she was a trembling mess beneath him.

“I’ve got it,” Isla replied with a playful smile, glancing over her shoulder at him, her eyes glinting with mischief, her dark hair catching the kitchen’s warm light. “Pour us some wine and relax—I’ve got a surprise for you after dinner,” she teased, her voice soft but charged with promise, making Joe’s anticipation spike, his dick throbbing in his jeans. “You’re killin’ me, Isla—better make it quick,” he growled, pouring two glasses of deep red wine, the liquid catching the light like molten rubies, his voice rough with need, his heart pounding with the thought of what was to come, his stamina already fueling his impatience to have her.

Dinner was a slow burn of desire, their attraction a tangible force, every glance a flame, every brush of their fingers a spark that set their skin ablaze. They sat close at the sleek dining table, the creamy pasta dish steaming between them, the scent of garlic and parmesan mingling with the rich aroma of the wine, the distant hum of Atlanta traffic filtering through the windows, a reminder of the city’s pulse outside their intimate bubble. Isla’s mind drifted to her college days, how she’d been so focused on her computer science studies at Georgia Tech, her nights consumed by coding assignments and algorithm design, her determination to build a career in cybersecurity driving her forward. Back then, Joe was a distant legend, his name a whisper on campus, his football highlights occasionally playing in the background of the Clough Commons while she debugged code nearby, her focus unwavering even as her heart fluttered at the thought of the man who’d once dominated the field. She’d allow herself a fleeting daydream—imagining meeting the campus icon who’d graduated long before her time—before diving back into her projects, her ambition always taking the lead. Now, here she was, living a fantasy she’d once thought impossible, sharing a meal with the man who’d been a distant inspiration, their shared history as Tech alums deepening the moment. Joe twirled a forkful of pasta, the creamy sauce clinging to the noodles, and held it up to Isla’s lips, his eyes locked on hers, a playful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Taste it for me, baby—wanna see those pretty lips around this,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, the words dripping with flirtation, making Isla’s cheeks flush, a sharp pulse flaring deep in her belly. She leaned forward, her lips parting as she took the bite, the creamy sauce coating her tongue, a soft moan escaping her as she savored the flavor, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, the sound making Joe’s dick throb, his heart racing with desire.

“So good, Daddy—you’ve gotta try it,” Isla purred, her voice soft but teasing as she twirled a forkful of pasta, the sauce glistening on the noodles, and held it up to Joe’s mouth, her eyes glinting with mischief, her lips curving into a playful smile. “You’re hackin’ my heart with every bite, baby,” she teased, a nod to her computer science background and her current cybersecurity work, the playful comment making Joe chuckle, his deep laugh sending a shiver through her. Joe leaned in, his lips brushing her fingers as he took the bite, the creamy sauce bursting with flavor on his tongue, the heat of her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through him, his eyes darkening with need. “Fuck, baby—you’re makin’ dinner dangerous,” he growled, his voice rough with desire, the taste of the pasta mingling with the taste of her skin, the intimacy of the moment making his dick strain against his jeans, his anticipation building with every second.

Joe’s expression softened for a moment, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he set down his fork, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You know, Isla, last week’s match… the pressure of bein’ the Tribal Chief, it’s heavy sometimes. Everyone expects me to be unbreakable, but I feel it, you know?” he admitted, his fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass, the confession a glimpse into the man behind the legend. Isla’s heart swelled, her hand reaching across the table to cover his, her touch warm and steady. “You’re more than the Tribal Chief to me, Joe—you’re my safe space, my everything. And if anyone tries to break you, I’ll hack their whole system ‘til they’re begging for mercy,” she said with a playful wink, her computer science expertise and cybersecurity career shining through, her words a mix of support and fierce loyalty that made Joe’s chest tighten with love. “Fuck, baby—you’re my rock,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his hand squeezing hers, the moment deepening their connection, the intimacy of their shared meal a quiet prelude to the fire waiting to ignite.

They continued feeding each other, their movements slow and deliberate, each bite a shared act of intimacy, the creamy sauce a sensual contrast to the heat building between them, their laughter and teasing words a soft counterpoint to the pounding of their hearts, the tension a living thing in the air. Joe’s gaze lingered on Isla’s lips as she sipped her wine, the way her throat moved as she swallowed, the soft curve of her neck a canvas for his mouth, the sight making his dick throb even harder. “You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, baby—I’m dyin’ to taste you,” he growled, his voice low and rough, the words making a sharp pulse flare deep in Isla’s belly, her skin flushing under his attention, the ache between her thighs a desperate throb. “Patience, Daddy—you’ll get everything you want,” she replied, her voice soft but teasing, her eyes locked on his, the promise in her gaze making his heart race, his dick straining against his jeans even more, the intimacy of their shared meal only heightening the fire between them, his stamina ensuring he’d make good on every promise he whispered.

After clearing the dishes, Isla excused herself to “freshen up,” leaving Joe on the couch, the leather cool against his skin, his anticipation a wildfire in his veins, his dick straining against his jeans, the taste of the creamy pasta and Isla’s skin lingering on his tongue, sharp and sweet. She returned a few minutes later, and Joe’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding like a war drum. Isla stood in the doorway, wearing his old Georgia Tech football jersey—number 96, the yellow-and-white fabric hanging loose on her smaller frame, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs, the faded letters a testament to his past glory, a symbol of the legacy she’d always admired, the rough texture of the fabric a tactile reminder of their shared history. Beneath it, a black lace lingerie set peeked out—a bra that pushed up her breasts, making them spill over the top, the lace intricate against her skin, a delicate contrast to her curves, and a thong that framed her thick ass, the thin straps digging into her hips, the lace barely covering her pussy, her skin glowing in the soft light of the condo, her curves a vision of temptation, her eyes locked on his, a silent invitation.

“Fuck, Isla—you look like a goddamn dream in my jersey,” Joe growled, his voice thick with lust, his dick hardening instantly as he stood, closing the distance between them in two long strides, his movements predatory, his eyes raking over her body like a man possessed. “You’re Daddy’s perfect girl, huh? Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good tonight,” he added, his voice a low rumble, the words sending a shiver down her spine, a sharp pulse flaring deep in her belly, knowing his stamina would ensure he’d keep going until she was utterly spent. His hands grabbed her hips, pulling her against him, the hard length of his erection pressing through his jeans, the heat of him searing through her, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, the jersey rough against his palms, the lace of her thong a teasing contrast, the scent of her jasmine perfume mixing with the musk of her arousal, a heady combination that made his head spin. “I love being yours, Daddy—I’ve always wanted this,” Isla moaned softly, her hands sliding up his chest, her nails scraping lightly over his hoodie, the fabric catching on her fingertips, her voice breathy with need, the admission making Joe’s heart race, his dick throbbing with the depth of his desire for her.

He backed her against the kitchen counter, the cool marble pressing against the backs of her thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body, his hands roaming her curves, lifting the jersey to reveal the black lace lingerie, his fingers tracing the edge of her thong, the lace delicate against her skin, before yanking it to the side, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate circles, the pad of his thumb rough against her sensitive bud, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her, her walls fluttering with need, her juices already soaking the lace, the counter slick beneath her. “You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, baby—already drippin’ for Daddy,” Joe growled, his voice rough with desire, the words making a sharp pulse flare deep in Isla’s belly, her thighs trembling with anticipation. “Please, Daddy—I need you so bad,” Isla moaned, her hands gripping the counter, her knuckles whitening, her voice desperate, the ache between her thighs a desperate throb, the scent of her arousal filling the air, a sweet musk that drove Joe wild.

He dropped to his knees, his hands spreading her thighs wide, the muscles in her legs quivering under his touch, his hot breath fanning over her pussy, making her shiver with anticipation, the heat of his gaze searing her skin as he looked up at her, his eyes dark with hunger. “Gonna make you come so hard, baby—gonna taste every fuckin’ drop,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, the words sending a shiver down her spine, her clit pulsing in anticipation. His tongue darted out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up her slit, the taste of her arousal bursting on his tongue like the sweetest nectar, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he savored her, the vibrations sending shivers through her body, her clit pulsing under his touch. “Fuck, you taste like heaven, Isla—sweeter than any win in the ring,” he growled, his voice muffled against her, the praise tying his wrestling persona to their intimacy, making her heart race, her walls fluttering with need.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bud, his tongue flicking it in a slow, torturous rhythm, the wet sounds of his mouth on her pussy filling the kitchen, a symphony of desire that mingled with her desperate moans, the counter cold against her ass, the jersey slipping off one shoulder, revealing the black lace bra, her breasts heaving with every ragged breath, the lace stretched tight across her skin, her nipples hard against the fabric. “Joe, fuck—oh my God, that feels incredible!” Isla cried, her voice raw, her thighs trembling as he worked her, his tongue relentless, his hands holding her hips to keep her in place, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, leaving faint marks that made her feel claimed, desired. His tongue dipped inside her, tasting her deeper, the wet heat of her pussy enveloping his tongue, the slickness of her arousal coating his lips, his chin, the taste of her driving him to the edge, his dick throbbing in his jeans, the pressure almost painful.

His fingers slid inside her, curling against that spot that made her vision blur, the stretch of his thick fingers making her walls flutter, the burn of it sending a wave of pleasure through her, her juices dripping down his hand, the counter slick beneath her, the scent of her arousal overwhelming, a heady mix that made his head spin. “You’re so tight, baby—gonna make you squirt for Daddy, aren’t you?” he growled, his voice rough with need, the words making a sharp pulse flare deep in Isla’s belly, her body trembling on the edge. “Yes, Daddy—please, I’m so close!” she pleaded, her voice desperate, the pressure in her core building to a breaking point, her thighs quaking with the intensity of the pleasure.

He worked her slowly, his tongue circling her clit faster, his fingers pumping in and out, the wet squelching sounds driving her wild, her thighs trembling, her core tightening with every flick of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers, the pleasure building to a breaking point, her body trembling on the edge. Isla’s orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her walls fluttering around his fingers, her juices squirting out in a gush, soaking Joe’s face, dripping down his chin and onto his chest, the wet heat of her release making a mess of the counter beneath her, the marble slick with her cum, the scent of her arousal a testament to the intensity of her climax. “Fuck, yes, baby—that’s it, squirt for Daddy,” Joe groaned, pulling back to watch her, his lips glistening with her cum, his eyes dark with hunger as he licked his lips, drinking in every drop, his voice raw with need.

Her body shook, her thighs quaking with aftershocks, her hands gripping the counter as she rode out the waves of pleasure, the sensation so intense she felt tears spill down her cheeks, her clit pulsing with aftershocks, her voice a broken sob as she moaned, “Daddy, fuck—it’s too much!” Joe stood, his chest slick with her juices, his dick rock-hard in his jeans, the pressure unbearable as he stripped them off, his massive length springing free, the head swollen and leaking precum, veins bulging along the shaft, the sight making a sharp pulse flare deep in Isla’s belly, her core aching to be filled, her body trembling with need. “You ready for me, baby? Ready for Daddy to fill you up?” he growled, his voice rough with desire, the words making her walls flutter, her arousal dripping down her thighs. “Please, Daddy—I need you inside me, need you to fuck me,” Isla pleaded, her voice desperate, her hands reaching for him, her body aching for his touch, knowing his stamina would push her to her limits.

He teased her with the head of his dick, rubbing it against her clit, the wet heat of her pussy making him groan, the sensation of her slickness against his sensitive tip sending a jolt of pleasure through him, his balls tightening, his heart pounding with the need to be inside her. “Fuck, baby—you’re so ready for me, so fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, his voice a low rumble, the praise making Isla’s heart race, a sharp pulse flaring deep in her belly. He pushed into her slowly, stretching her tight pussy around his girth, the burn of the stretch making Isla gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders, the pain mixing with pleasure as her walls adjusted to his size, the fullness of him overwhelming, her inner muscles quivering around him, the heat of her body searing through him. “Daddy, fuck—you’re so big, it’s so much!” she cried, her voice breaking, the sensation of his thick length filling her driving her to the edge, her heart racing with the depth of her love for him.

Joe groaned, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers leaving faint bruises as he started moving, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of her, the counter creaking beneath them, the cool marble a sharp contrast to the heat of their bodies, the jersey rough against his skin, the lace of her bra teasing his chest. “You feel incredible, baby—so tight for Daddy,” he growled, his voice rough with desire, the words making Isla’s walls flutter, the pleasure building with every slow, deep thrust. Each thrust was deliberate, his dick hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars, the pressure building in her core, her juices dripping down his thighs, the counter slick beneath her, the scent of their arousal a heady mix that filled the air, the slow drag of his dick against her walls sending waves of pleasure through her, the friction making her clit pulse, her body trembling with the intensity of it, her heart racing with the depth of her love for him.

“You’re takin’ Daddy’s spear so good, Isla—look at you, my perfect girl,” he growled, his voice a low rumble, referencing his signature wrestling move, the words tying his Tribal Chief persona to their intimacy, his eyes locked on hers, watching every flicker of pleasure on her face, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed, the raw attraction between them a living flame. “Daddy, fuck—it’s so good, don’t stop!” Isla moaned, her voice raw, her thighs quaking as the pleasure built, her inner muscles quivering around him, the sensation of his thick length stretching her, filling her, driving her to the edge, her body trembling with need. He turned her over, her breasts pressing against the counter, the cool marble a shock against her heated skin, her ass raised, the jersey hiked up around her waist, her thong pulled down to her thighs, the lace stretched tight against her skin.

He entered her from behind, the angle allowing him to go even deeper, her pussy stretching around him, the burn making her sob, the sensation of his dick hitting that spot inside her making her vision blur, her ass jiggling with every movement, the counter slick with her juices, the scent of their arousal overwhelming, the roughness of his thrusts making her body tremble with need, the jersey a reminder of their shared history, the lace of her thong digging into her thighs, the sensation of his hands on her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, leaving faint bruises, making her feel claimed, desired. “Fuck, Isla—your ass looks so good like this, bouncin’ for Daddy,” he growled, smacking her ass, the sound echoing in the condo, the sting making her moan louder, her walls fluttering around him, the roughness making her body tremble with need. “Daddy, fuck—I’m so close again, please let me come!” Isla pleaded, her voice breaking, the pressure in her core building to a breaking point, her body trembling on the edge.

“Hold on, baby—Daddy’s gonna make you come so hard,” he growled, his voice rough with need, the words making Isla’s heart race, her clit pulsing with anticipation. He moved slowly, drawing out the pleasure, the slow drag of his dick against her walls sending waves of pleasure through her, the friction making her clit pulse, the pressure in her core building to a breaking point, her body trembling on the edge. Isla’s orgasm hit her hard, her inner muscles quivering around him, her juices gushing as she came, the wet heat soaking the counter, her body trembling, her voice a broken sob, “Daddy, yes!” the pleasure so intense she felt her entire body ignite, her heart pounding with the depth of her love for him.

Joe moved through her orgasm, his thrusts slow and deep, drawing out her pleasure, a low growl rumbling in his chest, “That’s it, baby—come for Daddy, let me feel you,” his voice raw with need, his dick throbbing inside her, the pressure in his balls building, his heart pounding with the depth of his desire for her. His stamina, honed from years of dominating in the wrestling ring, kept him going, his movements relentless as he pushed her through her climax, his own need building but his control unwavering, determined to make her come again before he let himself go. He carried her to the bedroom, the transition swift as he laid her on the king-sized bed, the white sheets cool against her heated skin, the Atlanta skyline glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a silent witness to their passion. “I’m not done with you yet, baby—gonna love you even more,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, the promise making a sharp pulse flare deep in Isla’s belly, her body trembling with anticipation, knowing his stamina meant he could keep going for hours if he wanted to.

He pressed her against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the cool glass a sharp contrast to the heat of their bodies, the smooth surface fogging with her breath as she moaned, the city lights casting a soft glow on their intertwined forms, the distant hum of Atlanta traffic a faint reminder of the world beyond their bubble. “Look at the city watchin’ us, baby—everyone down there wishin’ they were me,” he growled, his voice rough with desire, the voyeuristic thrill making Isla’s walls flutter, the sensation of his dick hitting that spot inside her making her vision blur, her breasts pressed against the glass, the jersey slipping down her back, revealing the black lace bra, the fabric stretched tight across her breasts. “Daddy, fuck—it’s so intense, I can’t—” Isla sobbed, her voice raw, the pleasure overwhelming her, her body trembling with the intensity of it, the city below a glittering witness to their passion.

“You’re relentless, Daddy—just like in the ring!” Isla moaned, her voice breathy, the comment tying Joe’s stamina to his wrestling persona, making him growl with pride, his thrusts deep and controlled, his body showing no signs of slowing down even after pushing Isla through multiple orgasms, his wrestling-honed endurance making him a relentless lover, determined to give her every ounce of pleasure she could take. He pulled out briefly, turning her to face him, his eyes locked on hers, the love and desire in his gaze making her heart race, the heat of their connection burning through every touch. “You’re my fuckin’ everything, Isla—I love you so much,” he growled, his voice rough with emotion, his hands sliding up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks, the tenderness in his touch making her heart swell, her voice soft but intense as she moaned, “I love you too, Daddy—I’m yours, forever.”

He carried her to the bathroom, the steam from the hot shower already filling the air, the scent of lavender body wash mingling with their arousal, the soft patter of the water a soothing backdrop as he set her down, the jersey still clinging to her sweaty skin. “Time to get you clean, baby—but Daddy’s gonna make you dirty again,” he growled, his voice a low rumble, the promise making a sharp pulse flare deep in Isla’s belly, her body trembling with anticipation. He tugged the jersey off her, using the faded fabric to tie her hands behind her back, the rough material biting into her wrists, the light bondage adding a thrilling edge as he pinned her against the shower wall, the hot water cascading down their bodies, steam enveloping them in a warm cocoon. “You’re mine to take, baby—Daddy’s jersey looks better like this,” he growled, his voice rough with desire, the words making Isla’s walls flutter, her body trembling with need.

He entered her again, the angle allowing him to go even deeper, her pussy stretching around him, the burn making her sob, the sensation of his dick hitting that spot inside her making her vision blur, her juices mixing with the water, the shower floor slick beneath them, the steam amplifying the scent of their arousal, the roughness of his thrusts making her body tremble with need, the jersey binding her wrists a reminder of their shared history, the lace of her bra teasing her skin, the hot water adding a new sensory layer that made every touch feel electric. “Daddy, fuck—I’m gonna come again!” Isla sobbed, her voice raw, the pleasure overwhelming her, her body trembling on the edge, the relentless pace of Joe’s thrusts pushing her to her limits, his stamina ensuring he could keep her on the edge as long as he wanted.

“Hold on, baby—Daddy wants to feel you come with me,” he growled, his voice a low rumble, the words making Isla’s heart race, her clit pulsing with anticipation. He untied her hands, turning her to face him, her legs spread wide, her pussy glistening with her cum, the water soaking them both, the jersey discarded on the shower floor, her breasts heaving with every ragged breath. He entered her again, lifting her legs over his shoulders, the angle allowing him to go even deeper, her pussy stretching around him, the burn making her sob, the sensation of his dick hitting that spot inside her making her vision blur, her juices dripping down his thighs, the shower a mess beneath them, the slow drag of his dick against her walls sending waves of pleasure through her, the friction making her clit pulse, the pressure in her core building to a breaking point, her body trembling on the edge, his eyes locked on hers, the love and desire in his gaze making her heart race, the heat of their connection burning through every touch.

Isla’s hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, her voice raw with desperation as she felt the telltale signs of Joe’s impending release—his thrusts growing erratic, his dick pulsing inside her, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Sensing his need for acknowledgment as the Tribal Chief, she locked eyes with him, her voice a desperate, reverent whisper, “Acknowledge me as yours, Daddy—my Tribal Chief deserves it!” Her words echoed his WWE persona’s commanding catchphrase, a powerful nod to his dominance in the ring and in their intimacy, her walls fluttering around him in submission, the acknowledgment pushing Joe to the brink, his heart pounding with the intensity of her words, the heat of her reverence amplifying his pleasure. Joe’s eyes darkened, her acknowledgment shattering his control after holding back for so long, his stamina giving way to the overwhelming need to release. “Fuck, baby—you’re mine, always,” he groaned, his voice rough with need as he came hard, his dick pulsing violently inside her, his hot cum filling her up in thick, forceful spurts, dripping down her thighs as he moved through his orgasm, the intensity heightened by Isla’s acknowledgment, his thrusts slow and deep, his cum mixing with her juices and the water, the shower floor slick beneath them, the sensation of his release making her walls flutter, her own orgasm hitting her at the same time, her juices gushing as she came, the wet heat soaking them both, her body trembling, her voice a broken sob, “Daddy, yes—I love you!” the pleasure so intense she felt her entire body ignite, her heart pounding with the depth of her love for him.

Joe gently pulled out, his cum dripping from her pussy, the shower floor a mess with their combined juices, the water washing away the evidence of their passion as he pulled her into his arms, their bodies slick with sweat and water, their breathing heavy, the steam a warm cocoon around them. Even after such an intense session, Joe’s stamina was evident in the way his hands still roamed her body, his touch possessive and hungry, as if he could go another round without breaking a sweat, a testament to the endurance that made him a legend in the ring and an unstoppable force in bed. Isla nestled against his chest, her fingers tracing the tattoos on his arm, her voice soft as she murmured, “I’ve got a big deadline at work next week—some new encryption project. But nights like this… they make everything worth it.” Joe kissed the top of her head, his voice a low rumble as he replied, “You’re gonna kill it, baby—just like you do with me.” He paused, his gaze drifting to the jersey on the shower floor, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Today at the game… seein’ you cheer in the stands, wearin’ my colors—it felt like a full-circle moment, you know? Like I was back on that field, but this time, I had you.” His words tied their intimacy to the shared joy of the game-day victory, a final emotional beat that left a warm, lingering glow, the Atlanta skyline still glittering through the window, a silent witness to their love. “I can’t wait for more days like this, Daddy—I’m yours to love,” Isla whispered, her voice charged with desire and devotion, her heart swelling with the depth of her love for him. They stood there, tangled in each other, the afterglow a warm cocoon around them, their attraction still simmering beneath the surface, the roughness of their encounter balanced by the love in their touches, their breaths mingling as they held each other close, the jersey a symbol of their shared history, the lace of her lingerie a reminder of the fire between them, the soft patter of the shower a soothing lullaby to their perfect night.

Can’t get enough of Joe and Isla’s fiery romance? 🔥💛 Their journey continues in my book series Open Arms, packed with more steamy moments, heartfelt connections, and the love story you’ll be obsessed with! Dive into the full series on my masterlist here. Want to stay updated on their story? Comment below or message me to be added to the Open Arms taglist—I’d love to have you along for the ride! 💖

[amicocasio]

closed starter for @mortalisla location: base camp note: existential crisis

Never in his many years of living as a familiar had he thought that he would be involved in something like this. Sometimes he wished that Ciro and him could have just stayed where they were, just travelling the world. Instead of that though, they were in the middle of a war. Amico didn't like the idea of it one bit and he hadn't pretended to. However, he was always going to be there for the witch. Through thick and thin, they would be together. Now there was someone else he cared for though. There was nothing particularly between them, but they had somehow gotten to the friendship stage of things now. He hoped that was good enough for the both of them. "How's Evan doing?"

[daggerfall]

broken light temple

(early solstice MQ spoilers, a scene rewrite between gabrielle benele and my vestige isla kingston. mostly canon dialogue, implied vestige/darien gautier and vestige/oc)

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

"This is fascinating. Fascinating!"

Broken Light Temple. Isla had been to this part of Solstice earlier in the week. Not that it made standing in its ruins any less upsetting. The atmosphere felt both suffocating and screamingly silent. Why Gabrielle had been drawn here, Isla did not know. But she was at least relieved Gabrielle had not been ambushed by Worm Cultists or led into some kind of trap.

Gabrielle had her back turned to the entrance when Isla crossed into the courtyard, completely lost in admiring the crumbling architecture. All the more reason for them to get out of here quickly - Gabrielle was extremely vulnerable alone and distracted. 

"Oh, good! You made it to Solstice!” She must have finally turned and noticed Isla had joined her. “Look at this place. I know it's in ruins now. But once this was a magnificent courtyard with a grand temple beyond, consecrated to the Daedric Prince of Light, Meridia. Just think of it!"

Isla felt too stunned to speak momentarily. It was one thing for Gabrielle to give her the cold shoulder all those months ago, but it was another to hear her so openly praising Meridia. Not to mention the subtle insult of implying Isla wouldn’t recognize a Meridian worship site. Eventually she broke out of the astonishment. “Azah sent me to look for you. Farinor sabotaged the portal bringing everyone over - he was worried you might also be in danger.”

That seemed to catch Gabrielle’s attention. "Farinor, a traitor? Are the alliance representatives alright? When I sensed power here calling to the staff, she told me about this old temple. Farinor must have wanted me away during her sabotage…”

“She probably knew you could counteract it. Mirmal did what he could to salvage the spell and diverted the alliance representatives to other places around Solstice. Sebastien made it through, injured but alive, and I found Walks already. But the other two are still lost.”

Gabrielle breathed a sigh of relief. "That's something, at least.” She seemed to slip back into her trance of admiring the ruins. “I got so caught up admiring the site that I haven't found anything yet. This place reminds me of our dear friend, Darien Gautier. I still can't believe he's gone. Perhaps Meridia has a message for me. Or the staff wants something here. Can you help me search the area?"

That name drop was calculated and cruel. There was no other explanation than Gabrielle wanting to remind Isla about Darien, especially after mentioning Sebastien again. The pleasant and neutral smile on Gabrielle’s face couldn’t hide the flicker of satisfaction that came through at Isla’s visible sign of pain. 

“Okay.” She couldn’t muster anything further in response. 

Gabrielle held Vanus’ staff in the air, channeling a spell of searching. "There! Look for anything that glows!"

Isla’s eyes caught on an old script buried under some rubble. It looked to be some Meridian hymn with much of the writing too worn to time to read. 

"An old tome? A lucky find. Age is not kind to paper."

Up the stairs, an idol poked out from some debris.

"That idol confirms this was indeed a temple of Meridia."

And across the way, the oddly untarnished metal of a bell could be spotted.

"A temple bell! Nearly pristine, considering the age of this place."

Gabrielle held the writing in her hand as Isla descended the stairs, attempting to channel some spell into the paper to bring some of the words into better clarity. "The items you uncovered must be tied to the power that drew me here. I can sense a powerful Meridian blessing in that bell."

Isla’s discomfort with the place and constant speaking of her name was getting to her. She needed to leave, and soon. Not just to keep looking for the alliance representatives, but because she feared Meridia could somehow sense she was here. “Gabi, can we-”

"Meridia was a powerful ally when we fought Molag Bal in Coldharbour to end the Planemeld,” she pointedly and intentionally interrupted, smiling in a smug innocence like she was talking down to a rather stupid child. Isla knew damn well how “helpful” Meridia had been during the Planemeld - she was there too. But she couldn’t decide if Gabrielle had somehow forgotten everything Isla told her about what Meridia had done in Summerset, or if she did remember but decided weaponizing Meridia’s name against Isla was a better tactic for making her feel like shit about Darien. “I think I was drawn here to remind me she could help us against the Worm Cult again. Maybe Vanus reached out through the staff to guide me. I can't quite tell."

When Isla didn’t respond after a few seconds, Gabrielle concluded the conversation. “Thank you for your help here. I can make my way back to Sunport,” she said, turning her back to the entrance again.

Once Isla recovered from the abrupt dismissal, she walked to the entrance to leave. The Covenant representative was close to the Writhing Wall according to Mirmal, but at least it would be a quick return to Sunport after finding them. Assuming she did find them. The island wasn’t that big, it couldn’t be that diff-

“I wish Vanus were here. I have a feeling that nothing we’ve seen on Solstice would surprise him. I'll lead the Mages Guild as best I can, but I’m not the Great Mage.”

Isla thought about taking the low road and leaving Gabrielle to stew in her insecurities after that showing of unnecessary cruelty, but something else tugged at her. Her, Gabrielle, and Vanus were the only people to leave the Chapel of Light alive nearly 14 years ago, and now Vanus was gone. No matter what happened between the two of them, Gabrielle was one of the only people who truly understood the horrors and tragedy of the Planemeld in the same way Isla did. Who felt the loss of Darien as deeply as she did. Not even Seb knew. And Gabrielle was hurting. Isla was trying to move on, but clearly Gabrielle had not and was lashing out in pain.

When all of this settled down, Isla decided she would sit down and talk with Gabrielle (and Skordo, for good measure) about everything. In the meantime, she needed to not fight fire with fire.

“I think you’re doing fine, Gabi.”

[dearinglovebot]

Answer all of the ship questions for clawen pretty pleaseeeeee

you are the moot who i would save first if tumblr caught on fire one day. god bless

who hogs the duvet?

claire and she has no shame about it. she hogs blanket and mattress. he is resigned to a tiny strip of bed, cold, shivering, completely blanketless...

who texts/rings to check how their day is going?

owen because claire experiences work hyperfocus at such intensity that she will momentarily forget she has a family and someone needs to remind her to eat lunch

who's the most creative when it comes to gifts?

claire online shops on websites so niche the average human cannot comprehend them but owen is better at giving customized handcrafts. that's a man who knows how to whittle.

who gets up first in the morning?

controversially going with owen. "claire is work-brained" yes, but she's so work-brained that it keeps her up later thus requires more time sleeping in. owen has the sleep tendencies of an old lady and wakes up right at dawn.

who suggests new things in bed?

listen... all i'm saying is that when we look at canon... only one of them is implied to be into biting. if anyone is getting freaky... i think we have our answer

who cries at movies?

owen because claire insists they're "just fiction, owen" and "i'm going to cry about real things". he approaches movies as entertainment and she approaches movies like they're puzzles to solve

who gives unprompted massages?

owen. no question.

who fusses over the other when they're sick?

they're going to take care of the other if either is sick. claire fusses in an over-vigilant always keeping her eye on the person way where owen is actively asking "do you need something to eat? do you need something to drink? in another hour you'll need to take more pills". but that said, the fussing would drive claire crazier because she's going to try harder to deny that she's sick at all. no, she doesn't need cough syrup. she is perfectly healthy (said minutes before fainting).

who gets jealous the easiest?

canon makes a very strong case for it being owen. between his dialogue in fallen kingdom and the legends of isla nublar episode dedicated to him jealously seething, that man is fighting for his life.

who has the most embarrassing music taste?

in maisie's perspective, owen. he'd probably be into old country with guys singing over their guitars about beer, farming, trucks, and women. which maisie will think is very cringe because who even likes country these days. meanwhile claire is more acceptable because her taste is more inline with blues/soul and jazz.

who collects something unusual?

owen is way more likely to. claire would collect something like postage stamps or old coins that's kind of lame but pretty unnotable. owen would have go for something that's kind of funny like animal football team mascot bobbleheads for each city they go to.

who takes the longest to get ready?

claire because she considers getting ready a process to complete. owen considers getting ready "putting pants on".

who is the most tidy and organized?

claire is meticulously devoted to keeping things exactly as she wants them. owen isn't messy, but he does think a house should be lived in. claire on the other hand labels every file on her computer with relevant names and uses tags. she approaches everything in life like this. it's fun and comforting to her

who gets most excited about the holidays?

owen is the one who wants to put up decorations and make specific food. claire doesn't particularly have any strong connection to the holidays until she starts reconnecting with karen + the boys and finds her own family. she enjoys holidays because her family enjoys them. owen enjoys them because he is full of whimsy and believes in living life to the fullest

who is the big/little spoon?

controversial opinion: they do not have defined roles. sometimes there isn't a big spoon, sometimes it's owen, sometime's it's claire. owen is more likely to fall into the role because he likes knowing she's close meanwhile claire likes being held because it feels more secure (she would love weighted blankets) BUT every night they just do what feels natural for that night

who gets more competitive when playing games and/or sports?

they both terrify maisie during boardgames because they can't help getting way too competitive with each other specifically, but claire is more likely to threaten to kick him out of the house if he launches another banana peel at her in mario kart. owen is a good sport and she is... working on that.

who starts the most arguments?

one of their favorite bonding activities is bickering. claire probably has more things to nit-pick but he's playing into every argument willingly because he likes to bother her

who suggests that they buy a pet?

they already have two pet velociraptors and they are 100% owen's fault. all future pets will go this same route. claire is always going to act like she doesn't want anything to do with getting one and maisie and owen will talk her into it and she has to pretend that she doesn't also love it after a few days of meeting it

what couple traditions do they have?

board shorts, tequila, date itinerary. they can't go for a night out alone without mentioning one or more. it's always "at least you aren't wearing shorts this time" or "what time is desert on the itinerary?"

what tv shows do they watch together?

shondaland. if it was produced by shondaland, they are tuning in. gray's anatomy, bridgerton, scandal... they're seated. they're discussing it in depth after each episode too.

what other couple do they hang out with?

alan and ellie, duh. but they'd also get along with sarah and ian. they might also go out with barry and who ever he's currently dating. and claire would insist on spending time with whoever zia's seeing, too. in that case, owen is defineltly getting deemed the token straight guy who has to keep grabbing the food and drinks for them because of #feminsim.

how do they spend time together as a couple?

parallel play is how they spend a lot of the day when they're both home. he does his thing, she does hers, but always in the same room. but theres also shondaland time or maisie and owen dragging claire on outdoor adventures or talking before bed.

who made the first move?

i go back and forth on this. on the one hand, owen would have no problem asking her out immediately. on the other, claire is a girlboss who also goes after what she wants. i lean towards owen though because claire is emotionally stunted with a massive ego about any level of vulnerability

who brings flowers home?

owen. he doesn't buy them though. just plucks them and claire doesnt ask if he had to jump a fence to do it .

who is the best cook?

claire cannot cook. at all. owen is the only one in that house actually making anything. maisie learns from owen. she just watches and sits there for moral support

[mycrymes]

❝ i mean, sure. ❞ he starts, eyes not leaving the femme once as she peruses through her own apartment. it was one thing to live in an apartment with your girlfriend and another thing to be crashing on the sofa of your ex's apartment. it hurt. the realization of it all that to pursue his dream he had to leave behind someone that he truly loved. and it was worth it . . . for the most part. ❝ i did leave home because it didn't have everything i wanted. the stardom ── the ability to play music for people. it wasn't big enough. ❞ evan admits, fingers toying with the blanket she threw down only moments prior. ❝ but at the same time, the city only has that. i can't breathe or take time for myself. ❞ male smiles, patting the seat next to him in effort to bring her closer, to create a space that used to be so comfortable for the both of them. ❝ didn't think i'd be running back home so soon to be honest. but i don't mind the excuse to see you. ❞

" it looks the same to me ... " femme didn't want to be bitter but it was hard to match his outgoing-ness when she was still in shock of seeing him back in town — in her apartment. " isn't that what you wanted? " femme asked, moving to the wardrobe to get an extra blanket and pillow for him. " i thought home was too calm for you ... " isla threw the things on the side of the couch. " you were never really destined for this life ... " even though it hurt her to admit. " we all knew that. " the femme fancied the slow life, the everyday life and appreciating the small moments.

[gyattoru]

the apparition - a hogwarts legacy fanfic (s.s)

title inspired by the apparition by sleep token.

• chapter two - the unsanctioned duelling club.

summary: After a much-needed rest from the whirlwind of yesterday's events, the first day of the semester is finally here, filled with potential and excitement. Aiden heads out to run errands, leaving Ellise to contemplate the intriguing dreams that have been haunting her nights. As if fate had a hand in it, she receives an invitation to join a mysterious ‘secret’ dueling club, stirring her curiosity and hinting at the thrilling adventures that lie ahead.

cw: 5k(ish) words, hogwarts legacy fanfiction, female MC, sebastian sallow x female!MC, poppy sweeting x male!MC, muggle raised MCs, eventual pining & romance, eventual fluff & angst, minimal lore alterations, dialogue alterations, added events, sebastian sallow x seer!MC, multiple OCs, will add more as the chapters go on.

a/n: I know, it took me SO long to have time to sit and write this, but if things go to plan updates should be more consistent. I also wanted to thank my close friend for helping me create one of the OCs that will be introduced, as she is here as a homage to her, love you bestie 💗

- xxx, lola.

previous | masterlist

ELLISE.

To my dismay, I quickly learnt that a good night of sleep after restless years had its price—not waking up on time.

As I opened my eyes the next morning, I noticed that all the beds in the earth-toned female dormitory were empty and neatly made. I hurried through the castle, preparing myself as best as I could in the little time I had to get ready.

I have difficulty recalling the path taken yesterday with Professor Weasley; my quick steps do not aid my memory. As I carelessly round a corner that leads into another long hallway, I accidentally bump into someone.

I stared in surprise at the three girls in front of me, their expressions mirroring my own. I clamped my mouth shut and noticed the books I had accidentally knocked from the hands of the girl on the right. She had dirty blonde hair and striking green eyes, which were framed by an oval pair of glasses. As I knelt to pick up her books, she also knelt, and we clumsily collided foreheads—an amazing first impression.

She winces, and I place a hand on my head. “I’m so sorry.” I gather her books, and one of her friends, a blonde girl with a neatly trimmed fringe, gently takes them from me. “I should have watched where I was going better.” The third girl, who has dark raven hair, helps us back to our feet.

“It's alright, you're one of the new fifth-years, aren't you?” the girl with green eyes asked as her blonde friend handed her books back. Her accent was thick and somewhat difficult for me to understand. “You made quite an entrance yesterday,” she said with a smile.

“Is it that obvious that I have no clue where I’m headed?” I ask nervously.

The girl with raven hair stifles a laugh “A little bit, but we can’t blame you, we’ve already had five years to adapt. We can help you, if you’d like, of course.”

“That would be highly appreciated.” I sigh “I’m Ellise, sorry for my manners, Ellise Villin.”

“Don’t worry about it!” she says with a cheerful wave, brushing off my lack of politeness. “I’m Isla Sterling from Ravenclaw.” She gestures to the blonde beside her. “This is Saoirse Dillon from Slytherin. She’s a bit quiet, but she’s really lovely once you get to know her!” Finally, she points to the girl I bumped into. “And this is Jasmina Čajkovska from Gryffindor. Her accent might take a little getting used to since she transferred from the Balkans with her brother a few years back, but she’s super friendly!”

The girls smile gently as they explain that they are on their way to the kitchens to try and sneak some of the best pastries before breakfast. They invite me to join them, but I politely decline, mentioning that I need to meet with Professor Weasley by the Slytherin common room before class.

“We can take you there.” Saiorse suggests as the other two girls nod.

“If you don’t mind.” I give them a cheeky smile.

“Can you believe him?!” Jasmina exclaims continuing our conversation as we arrive at the Slytherin corridor.

“I don’t know if it’s my place to speak.” I ponder “But I think he’s quite rude for that.”

“I agree with Ellie!” Isla exclaims, then gasps “I can call you Ellie right?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Girls.” Professor Weasley greets us when we get to her, my brother engaged in a conversation with a dishevelled-haired brunette and a blonde just behind her, both guys clad in Slytherin robes “I see you’ve acquainted yourselves with Miss Villin.”

“Good morning professor.” Saiorse gives her a shy smile “We sure did.”

“So did him with Gaunt and Sallow.” Isla points to the boys talking to brother and they turn to us.

My heartbeat slows as I lock eyes with the brunette; his gaze is the same as the one from my dreams.

“I’ll be taking that as our queue to depart.” He says with a charming smirk, not taking his eyes off mine “Until later, Villin.”

My brother bids him goodbye, but by the look on the guy’s face, I have no clue as to whether of us that was directed towards.

His eyes leave mine as he and the blonde turn to leave, the girls wave to me and tell me I can join the next breakfast heist, leaving me, Aiden and Matilda by the common room door.

“I trust you’re both ready for your first day at Hogwarts?” She smiles at us.

“I’ve been dreaming of this day for a long time.” My brother chirps, like we had a clue the school even existed a month ago “Can’t believe we’re here.”

“Well, you are here.” She emphasizes “Make the most of it. You only have one first day.”

We both give her curt nods.

“In light of your unique situation, joining us as fifth years, you’ll need to catch up with your classmates without falling behind.” She explains “Especially as you’ll be expected to complete your O.W.L.s at the end of the year.”

“O.W.L.s?” Aiden questions “Owls?”

“Yes. Your ‘Ordinary Wizarding Level’ exams.” She smiles “They will determine what type of career you can have when you leave here.”

“No pressure.” I remark.

“After much discussion with the Headmaster and the Ministry, we’ve devised something extraordinary to ensure your success.” She signals with her hands and a thick book appears out of thin air “Here you are.” She hands me the book.

The leather-bound tome suddenly escapes my grip, soaring through the air as if possessed by a life of its own. It snaps open with a flourish, pages cascading like shimmering leaves caught in a whirlwind of golden magic. The room is filled with a soft, radiant glow as the illuminated words dance across the fluttering pages. Just as quickly, the book comes to a graceful halt, its pages folding back with reverence before settling gently into my waiting hands, as if acknowledging my presence.

“What is it?” I inquire, my fingers gliding over the intricate design of the cover. The surface is adorned with a myriad of delicate engravings, each one telling its own story. In each corner, I can see the distinct insignia of the four Hogwarts houses—Gryffindor's lion, Hufflepuff's badger, Ravenclaw's eagle, and Slytherin's serpent—each beautifully rendered in a way that showcases their unique characteristics. At the center of it all looms a grand, bold ‘H,’ its elegant curves commanding attention, symbolizing the very essence of the magical school.

“It’s a Wizard’s Field Guide!” She exclaims giddily “It will help you both keep track of what you’re learning so that you master what’s expected of fifth-years.”

“We can share it?” Aiden questions, since she’s only presented one tome to us.

“You shall. Since the book appears when you need it that should be no problem. You would be wise to take full advantage of this exceptionally valuable resource.”

I put the book under my arm to hold it better and to my utter surprise, it disappears just like explained by Professor Weasley.

“Thank you, professor, but what do you mean it will ‘keep track’ of what we’re learning?” I arch an eyebrow

“Perhaps seeing it in action will answer your questions.” She invites us to walk with her.

As we ascend the winding staircase, each step echoing softly against the stone walls, we finally reach a landing adorned with an intricately carved stone statue of a kelpie. The statue looms large, its fluid form capturing the essence of a water spirit, both enchanting and somewhat foreboding. We come to a pause, taking in the beauty and mystery of the figure before us.

Our professor, with an air of wisdom, elaborates on the purpose of the tome. She explains that the guide is specifically designed to assist us with a plethora of knowledge—everything from the many creatures that inhabit the wizarding world to the rich tapestry of wizarding lore that has been passed down through generations. Moreover, she emphasizes the importance of being continually vigilant and attuned to our surroundings, hinting at the potential wonders—and dangers—that may lie ahead. This guide will not only enhance our understanding but also deepen our connection to the magical realm we are about to explore.

After using the guide on the statue by casting Revelio, I was pleasantly surprised to learn its full background. She then taught us about the castle’s Floo Flame network, which is designed to facilitate fast travel—a feature I will greatly appreciate in the future.

We use the Floo flame network to head to the Central Hall, which Matilda describes as the ‘King’s Cross’ of Hogwarts—the heart of the hive.

We make our way to the heart of the Central Hall, where the pristine white marble floors gleam under the soft overhead lights. A few students congregate around a stunning indoor fountain, its gentle flow creating a calming ambiance. The fountain boasts a beautifully crafted statue of sirens, their graceful forms intricately carved from stone, adding an air of elegance to the space. Soft whispers and laughter fill the air as the students chat, their excitement blending harmoniously with the serene sounds of the water splashing gently below.

“That should be all for now.” She shrugs and comes to a halt “You’re both expected to attend Charms class later today. And while Ellise attends Defense Against the Dark Arts, I’ll ask you to come with me for now, your sister can meet me in my classroom after the end of classes today.” She directs towards Aiden.

“Thank you for the help, Professor Weasley.” I smile at her.

“A lot to absorb on your first day. And you have much to learn.” She shrugs “You’re both expected to complete extra assignments made by your professors to help you with prior knowledge.”

Aiden winces at the mention of extra work, but giving Fig will assist us, I pay it no mind.

“But, judging by your adept use of the Field Guide and Revelio, I’d say Fig had no issue teaching you both the basics.” She frowns “He’s been terribly vague as to the events preceding your arrival, specifically about the dragon attack.”

I give Aiden a sideways glance to remind him that Fig asked us not to mention the events to anyone so he could discuss them with the Ministry without causing panic or spreading meaningless rumors. Aiden understands my look and gives me a nearly imperceptible nod in response.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing for us to share on the matter, professor.” He gives her a faint smile.

“Fair enough.” She gives us an unapologetic shrug “I presume Professor Fig has his reasons to keep the details to himself. For now.”

As if magically summoned, Eleazar Fig walks down the main stairs of the hall towards us—speak of the devil. Matilda greets him with a comment about how his ears must have been burning just a moment ago and chuckles softly. She praises him for his excellent job teaching us the basics of spellcasting and for volunteering to help us throughout the year.

“I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit, they’ve appear to have a rare aptitude for learning magic.” He dismisses her praise.

“Hm, well, I’m just glad the three of you’ve arrived in one piece.” She narrows her gaze on him “Perfectly good boats and carriages to Hogwarts and you chose to fly in the path of a dragon.”

“I wouldn’t say I chose it.” He shakes his head, by the tone in his voice I can tell it’s too soon to talk about the matter with him “Rather unfortunately it seems the dragon chose us.”

“Very well. Enough chit-chat, I need to direct Aiden to pick up his supplies and I’ve got class to get to.” I bid my goodbyes to Aiden and Matilda as they walk off, leaving Fig to explain the rest of the Field Guide to me.

He asks if we told her about our dragon encounter, and I just shake my head in response. He hums in appreciation and directs me to class.

As I approach the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, apparently known as D.A.D.A., an electrifying energy buzzes in the air. The vibrant chatter of students spills out, mixing with the exhilarating whoosh of spells flying through the room. I can hardly contain my anticipation.

I push open the imposing double doors, wincing slightly as they creak on their hinges, and step into the bustling classroom. The atmosphere is thick with tension; students instinctively part, forming a wide circle around the chaos at the centre. There, the dishevelled brunette from earlier stands poised, his brow furrowed in concentration. With a swift, fluid motion, he unleashes a spell that crackles with energy, hurtling toward a ginger-haired boy positioned just a few meters away. His eyes widen, but he reacts with remarkable reflexes, flicking his wand with precision to deflect the spell at the last moment, the magical energy dissipating into harmless sparks.

“Stupefy!” The ginger yells, the brunette blocking his spell with much more ease and sending more spells back at him in response.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He mocks with false worry towards the red-haired boy “Bombarda!”

The ginger boy deflects the spell, causing it to ricochet upward. It strikes the enormous skeleton of what appears to be a dragon hanging from the ceiling. We all look up in astonishment as the dragon's skull becomes dislodged, and a few people gasp as it plummets toward the red-haired boy.

“Levioso.” An older woman, seemingly the professor, keeps the skull from barely crushing him.

“Professor Hecat!” Saoirse exasperated, I give her a small nod, which she reciprocates. Thankfully, there's at least one friendly face in this class.

“Perhaps you’d be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time. I get new students every year, but I only have one Hebridean Black skull.” She reprimands, walking down the stairs that I assume lead to her private office “It was a token from the Great Poacher Raid of 1878. No doubt you’ve heard of it.”

I had in fact, never heard of that before my studies with Fig in the month before the first semester of my fifth year in Hogwarts—thank the heavens for the power of studying. My mouth hangs agape as she easily hooks the dragon skull back in its skeleton, I step a little closer to her.

“Now, you may be asking yourselves how an old woman like me single-handedly took out the largest poacher ring in eastern Wales and lived to boast about it.” She does a dramatic pause “Knowledge.”

She walks towards us and stops by the middle of the classroom.

“To the wise, age matters very little.” She tells us “So today we will be learning a spell that has saved me from death more times than I care to recall. Levioso.”

The ginger guy scoffs and she turns towards him.

“Seriously? Levioso, a levitation charm?” His brows furrow in disbelief.

With a swift flick of her wand, she utters the incantation, her voice resonating with a powerful energy. In an instant, the boy was lifted off the ground, flailing his arms and legs in a wild panic as he rose higher into the air, his startled expression mirroring the shock of his sudden ascent.

“A surprised opponent is a weak opponent.” Hecat tells him “Care to defend yourself, master Prewett? No?”

She flicks her wand again and releases him. I let out a low snicker; it served him right for mocking a professor in her classroom.

I suddenly realize that my laugh carries more weight than I ever imagined. The moment the sound escapes my lips, the brunette boy glances over his shoulder, a smile spreading across his face. He casually crosses his arms over his chest, and for a brief second, our eyes connect before he turns back to focus on the professor. It's as if a rush of air has been knocked out of me; my chest tightens, and a flurry of nervous excitement dances in my stomach, leaving me breathless.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Now, let’s practice what we’ve just learned starting with something small.” Shit, I completely forgot to pay attention to Professor Hecat. What the hell is wrong with me?

I settle in front of one of the many tables in the room and, thankfully, Saoirse takes the spot beside me, the brunette at a table on the other side of the room from us.

“I think she’s pretty badass.” Saoirse whispers to me “Only her to put Leander in his place.”

“He seems like a proper prick.” I scoff

“He can be,” she replied with a knowing smile. As she spoke, she reached for her wand, and I was taken aback by its unique appearance; it was crafted from a beautiful, pinkish-hued wood that glimmered in the light. “Cherry tree wood,” she continued, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm as she noticed my curiosity. “I think it’s pretty sweet.” With a shy nod, she stepped closer. “Come on, let me help you with the spell.”

And she does. To my complete satisfaction, I effortlessly cast it on the first try after watching the demonstrations from Hecat and one from Saiorse herself. She smiles at me as my feather responds perfectly to my command, floating gracefully in the air.

“Now, let’s try something a little larger,” Hecat declared, her voice resonating with authority. With a deft flick of her wand, the tables in the classroom glided smoothly to the walls, creating a wide, open space. As the furniture settled, a training dummy, crafted from sturdy wood, glided gracefully into the centre of the newly cleared corridor, poised and ready for whatever demonstration was to come.

Hecat looks around the room and stops when her gaze reaches me, signalling for me to take place in front of the dummy.

I clutch my second-hand wand and stop in the signalled spot—If I embarrass myself in front of everyone I’m going to be so mad.

“Levioso!” I flick my wand and thankfully the dummy floats away.

“Well done.” Hecat smiles as I clear the corridor for other students to have a turn. After everyone has a go at the dummy, she approaches us again.

“Very good everyone, but the best way to practice is by duelling.” She looks my way and a little bit to my right “We’ll start with you two.”

I turn to look at who exactly I’m going against and, of-fucking-course it’s the brunette boy who was practically demolishing Leander the prick in a duel minutes ago.

Just my luck.

“Duelists, take your marks.” She says and steers clear of us.

“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome.” He flashes a grin so smug it practically radiates confidence as he strides past me, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floor. He comes to a halt at the far end of the ornate, lengthy rug that stretches beneath us, its intricate patterns swirling and merging in hues of deep indigo and gold, evoking the grandeur of the ancient castle surrounding us.

I walk to the other end of the rug, his teasing making me sure of one thing—I want to wipe that shit-eating grin off his handsome but annoying face.

I nearly topple over as the so-called rug, which is actually a sturdy platform, begins its ascent into the air. Instinctively, I stretch my arms wide to steady myself, feeling the rush of air around me. Once I regain my equilibrium, I draw my arms back in, relief washing over me as I find my footing once again.

“Now, I want a fair duel using only Levioso, basic cast and Protego.” She looks at us “You may begin.”

“This should be easy,” the boy sneers, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he grips his wand tightly. With a swift, almost casual flick of his wrist, he sends a burst of shimmering energy hurtling toward me. I respond instinctively, my wand moving with precision as I conjure a barrier that absorbs the vibrant spell, the clash of magic crackling in the air around us.

“Protego? That complicates things.” He chuckles.

“Levioso!” I pronounce the incantation with conviction, my voice echoing through the air. In an instant, my opponent is lifted off the ground and propelled backwards, his body arching involuntarily. He tumbles briefly before landing deftly on his feet, determination flashing in his eyes as he quickly regains his composure.

“Lucky.” He says.

“Nothing lucky about it.” I utter defiantly, my wand raised as I flick a spell in his direction. He reacts swiftly, expertly blocking my attack, and retaliates with a flash of his own. “Stupefy!” he shouts, and I can feel the force of the spell rush towards me. Well, I guess the rules are out the window now. Within just a few minutes, I’ve managed to gain the upper hand again, sending him soaring into the air, his surprised expression a mix of frustration and awe.

“Good form.” He looks down at me with a smirk.

“I know.” I mirror his intensity, and I can see the surprise flicker across his face. Gathering my focus, I unleash another spell, swirling with vibrant energy, and my breath catches in my throat as I watch him lose his balance. He topples off the edge of the platform, landing with a resounding thud that echoes in the tense atmosphere around us.

As the platform descends, I come to a halt beside him, extending my hand toward him as a gesture of support. He reaches for me, his fingers enveloping mine, and I feel an unexpected warmth radiate from his touch that sends a delightful shiver coursing through my body.

“Not bad for a beginner.” He releases my hand and brushes his shirt with it “You give as good as you get.” He says with a chuckle and walks by me to stand by the back of the room—I can’t believe this guy.

“Congratulations on your victory over Sallow, he’s one of the best here.” Saoirse approaches me with a beaming smile “Professor Hecat wants to talk to you it seems, I’ll wait for you outside the classroom.”

I nod at her and walk over to the woman.

“I put you on the spot and you rose to the challenge.” She congratulates “Points to Hufflepuff.”

“Thank you, professor Hecat. I was a bit nervous, but glad to have the opportunity to practice.”

“If what I’ve seen today is any indication, we can expect great things from you. A pity your brother couldn’t join us, for now.”

I give her a curt nod.

“I demand excellence from my students. They are capable of achieving it—and they must achieve it.” She furrows her brows “I’d advise you to keep practising whenever you can. Perhaps Mr. Sallow will have some ideas for you.”

She dismisses the class and I turn to walk to the back of the class, stopping briefly as I catch the so-called ‘Mr. Sallow’ already staring at me with an arched brow. I walk over to him.

“Nice work.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I enjoyed that.” I say to him, savouring my victory.

“That duel was quite something.” He chuckles “Everyone’ll be talking about it.”

“It was certainly good practice.”

“Practice?” His brows shoot up “It felt more like I was dueling an expert. Sebastian Sallow, by the way.”

He extends his hand toward me, an invitation for a handshake, a gesture that feels remarkably unfamiliar. Back home, such a display—especially toward a woman—would be unthinkable. I can’t help but chuckle at the contrast, a warm smile spreading across my face as I reach out and clasp his hand.

“Ellise Villin,” I say, extending my hand firmly. I let the warmth of our connection linger for a moment before releasing my grip. “I presume you’re already acquainted with my brother.”

“I am,” he replies, a soft smile breaking across his face. My stomach does a little flip as I take in the way his dimples deepen, perfectly accentuating his freckled cheeks. His warm brown eyes draw me in, sparkling with mischief and kindness—get a grip, Ellise—I remind myself, trying to regain my composure despite the fluttering sensation inside me.

“Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand” He continues and drops a hand to rest on his hip “Then again, perhaps this wasn’t your first duel.”

“I’ve had my fair share.” I tease as I remember the knights from Rackham’s vault “Consider yourself lucky I held back.”

“You owe me an honest one when you don’t.” He laughs “You know, you might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization.”

“Not intriguing or suspicious at all.”

“If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then.” He says quietly and chuckles, of course, he’s that type of guy “Whether it’s joining a secret dueling club or sneaking into the Restricted Section of the Library—you just have to be clever enough not to get caught.”

He gives a playful wink, and a flutter of excitement rushes through me, making my stomach feel like it's somersaulting. It’s strange how his demeanor shifts—he didn’t exhibit this ‘friendliness’ when Aiden was nearby.

“Thank you, Sallow. I’ll keep that in mind.” To my dismay, there’s a flustered undertone in my voice.

“Good. Pleasure chatting with you. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” He smiles “Perhaps somewhere ‘unsanctioned’. We’ll see if your performance today was sheer luck—or actual skill.”

I struggle to suppress the warm blush that rises to my cheeks at the playful double entendre in his words, but my efforts only seem to entertain him further. His eyes spark with mischief, clearly reveling in my flustered reaction, as I attempt to compose myself in the midst of this teasing exchange.

“Meet me near the Clock Tower in a couple of minutes if you’re interested.” And just like that, he walks off and I meet Saoirse outside the classroom.

“Sorry for taking so long.” I tell her.

“No worries.” She smiles “Want to have lunch with me and the girls later?”

“I’d love to.”

As I step into the shadow of the Clock Tower alongside Saoirse, the infamous ‘unsanctioned’ duelling club feels far less clandestine than Sallow had portrayed it. The air buzzes with excitement as I survey the scene: clusters of students gather in animated groups, their voices rising and falling like a chorus. Laughter mingles with the sharpness of competitive banter as they exchange stories of recent matches and engage in lively bidding on one another, eyes gleaming with adrenaline and ambition. The warm glow of lanterns illuminates their eager faces, casting flickering shadows that dance across the cobblestone courtyard, setting the stage for an evening filled with rivalry and camaraderie.

Saoirse quietly excuses herself to talk with a boy with ginger curls and I spot Sallow leaning on a wall, I walk over to him.

“I knew I was right about you, I’m glad you could make it.” He uncrosses his arms and pushes off the wall as he greets me “I’ll take you to Lucan.”

He leads us to a Gryffindor boy whose tight black curls shimmer in the light, framing his freckled, boyish face that suggests he’s likely younger than both of us. As I take him in, I feel his gaze sharpen, narrowing in on me.

“Hey, Sebastian.” He greets and turns towards me “Hello, can I help you…?”

“Hi, Ellise Villin, pleasure to meet you.” He shakes the hand I give to him, a custom I’ve already come to enjoy “Sallow brought me to see you about a club.”

“If Sebastian vouches for you, that’s all I need to know.” He smiles “I coordinate duels for Crossed Wands, a dueling club of sorts. It’s invitation only, so you must’ve really impressed him.”

Sallow clears his throat softly beside me, the sound drawing my attention. I glance over to find him giving me a small, almost shy shrug, his lips curling into a gentle smile that lights up his face for a moment. But just as quickly, he shifts his gaze away, looking off into the distance as if he’s suddenly become absorbed in the scenery. I take a breath and turn my focus back to Brattleby.

“I’m flattered to hear that, he’s not a bad duelist either.” I chuckle.

“I’ve heard it is quite something to see both of you duel.” He comments, word surely travels fast around here.

“How does the club work exactly?”

“You show up on the designed meeting date and time, I match you up with other duelists and whoever is last one standing wins.” He explains giddily “It’s our way of determining the school’s greatest duelists once and for all. And to liven things up, the winner of it all is awarded a prize, interested?”

Given the sizable number of students gathered here, it stands to reason that the experience must be somewhat enjoyable. The allure of additional dueling practice, as Hecat proposed, adds an enticing layer to the opportunity—it's hard to resist the thought of sharpening my skills alongside others who share the same passion.

“Of course.” I made my mind up “Dueling’s an interesting past time.”

“I agree!” He exclaims “Besides, in Crossed Wands, you can duel with a partner if you’d like.”

“Do you already have a match set up for her?” Sallow breaks his silence.

“Of course.” Brattleby nods.

“Since it’s your first time, I figured I could partner with you.” Sallow turns to me “If you’d like, of course. I’m sure you can handle yourself all the same if you decide to go alone.”

I give him a small nod in agreement. Surely, I won against him, but I don’t know how many people I’m up against.

“Sure thing. Brattleby, get us in the ring.” I turn to the younger boy, he smiles and clasps his hands together.

“Spectacular! Feel free to call me Lucan and welcome to Crossed Wands.”

As we stroll down the stone corridor toward the Great Hall, the air buzzing with the chatter of students, Sallow glances at me with a smirk. “I’m glad I wasn’t the target of your wand this time,” he quips, his voice laced with a mixture of admiration and relief. “It’s almost as if I didn't need to lift a finger; you absolutely wiped the floor with them.” His words hang between us, a testament to the thrill of the recent duel that still crackles in the air.

“You flatter me,” I reply, dismissing his compliment with a wave of my hand. My gaze drifts forward to where Saoirse strolls gracefully, her quiet laughter mingling with the soft sound of our footfalls on the floor. Beside her, the curly-haired ginger leans in, his animated gestures drawing her attention as they share a moment filled with lightheartedness.

The sweetness of my victory lingered longer than I had anticipated, growing even more intense following my triumphant debut in the Crossed Wands duel. We faced off against a younger boy from Gryffindor and a spirited Ravenclaw girl from our year, and the thrill of that moment surged through me. To call Sallow and me mere partners would be a disservice; we were a formidable duo, a pair of menaces that chaos seemed to follow. Together, we unleashed our talents, much to the dismay of our opponents.

As we enter the Great Hall, the enchanting atmosphere envelops us, but my focus narrows as I search the Slytherin table for Aiden’s distinctive tuft of white hair. My heart sinks slightly when I realize he’s absent; could he still be in conversation with Professor Weasley? I pause, feeling a mix of concern and curiosity. Beside me, Saoirse halts her steps, glancing back at me and Sallow. The chatter and laughter of fellow students swirl around us, but my thoughts are solely on where Aiden might be.

“You’re eating with us, right?” She asks me and I nod, looking back at Sallow.

“I’ll be sitting at the Slytherin table with Ominis,” he says, gesturing towards the blonde boy who had been chatting with him and my brother. He takes a few steps away, his robes swirling behind him, but then pauses and turns back to me, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ll see you around, Villin,” he adds, his voice carrying a hint of promise.

Now I’m sure his quote is directed to me, and I can’t help but smile at him.

“You might just earn that reward if you keep up the good behavior, Sallow,” I say with a playful grin. He lets out a light chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before turning on his heel and sauntering away.

As I stroll alongside Saoirse and the ginger-haired guy, we make our way to the lively Gryffindor table, a hub of chatter and laughter. The other girls are already deep in conversation, their voices blending together like a vibrant melody. Suddenly, Jasmina catches sight of me from across the table, her face lighting up with a welcoming smile as she lifts her hand in a cheerful wave.

I flash a warm smile at her, and an overwhelming sense of belonging washes over me. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I realize that I am enveloped by a supportive group of people, their laughter and camaraderie wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. It's as if I'm finally part of something special, a vibrant tapestry of connection and warmth that makes my heart swell with gratitude.

a/n: I love my baddie queen Hecat

next chapter (to be added)

[ivorydragoness44]

Jurassic Park - Robert Muldoon S/O Dialogue Writing Prompts

• "I'm not staying on an island full of dinosaurs during a tropical storm."

• "This fence is supposed to keep that in?"

�� "These aren't petting zoo animals, Robert... Does Hammond understand this?"

• "The raptors should be in a sealed room. Not an open Tupperware."

• "Foe, friend, or food."

• "Do we really trust future guests to keep the windows up while they pass the dilophosaurus enclosure? We need some sort of strong, reinforced glass or something."

• "Personally, I don't trust the safety of the paddocks. No offense intended." "Please don't tell me that." "The electric wire looks like spaghetti next to the tyrannosaur."

• "Just knowing that Nedry's workstation looks like that, makes me want to pull my hair out."

• "How many pairs of those shorts do you own? Not that I'm complaining. Just curious."

• "You have some...strong opinions on the raptors, yeah?" "Yeah. Why?" "What do you think about having an extra paddock around the pen that they already have? You know, for extra security."

• "Can I wear your hat?"

• "I prefer the more docile herbivores." "It's a wonder why you're with me."

• "Should we live in one of the emergency bunkers then?"

• "I understand the need for security cameras, but why not also implement security personnel?"

• "Is ten-thousand volts enough?"

• "Got your hat?" "Yep." "I.D.?" "Of course." "Your--" "And my vest, and my boots. Darling, I have everything."

• "Which do you prefer: Kenya or Isla Nublar?" "There's no dinosaurs in Kenya, you know."

• "If the raptors are dangerous and smart... What does that make us?"

• "The sounds they make give me nightmares."

• "Robert, I love you, but please take your boots off of my desk."

• "Do you think the raptors recognize faces?"

• "A park full of dinosaurs. Who in their right mind is going to believe that enough to fly all of the way out here to drop cash on someone's word?"

• "You're being very cautious." "I didn't want to alarm you, your back was turned." "I appreciate that."

• "How on Earth did you find me over here? Wait... Did you track me down?" "You are fearsome to behold." "Your flattery won't make me dismiss my question."

• "Day one-hundred of no one installing locks on the vehicle doors." "Don't remind me, love, please."

• "If anyone can keep the visitors safe when the park opens, it's you."

• "Tomorrow's another transport day?" "Yep. I'll be heading over to Isla Sorna shortly. I have to ensure that all preparations are in-place."

• "You're back late. What happened?" "We tranquilized the raptors for transport to the island, but they woke up. One of the raptors took Jophery...I tried to save him."

• "They still want to keep the raptors? Even after everything?"

• "Maybe if we were to provide enrichment to the velociraptors?" "Enrichment?" "Yeah, you said that they're smart. They solve puzzles and...are looking for a way out--but why not give them something to do?"

• "They're lethal at what age?"

• "Robert, love, may I tell you something about a paddock without you getting upset?" "Sure. As if I could ever get cross with you." "Okay, um... I don't like walking around outside--between the buildings--and having the raptor pen so close. And there's no additional fencing around it. They frighten me."

• "Could your shorts be any shorter?" "You never complained before."

• "With legs like yours, you could jump as high as a velociraptor."

• "Can I go with you next time to Isla Sorna? I've never been there."

Bonus:

• "Well, aren't you a clever boy/girl?"

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Hi! I am just curious what is the best quality of the 28 yl movie? Have you felt any "that doesnt make sense" or "thats so meh" moment? Do you think it will be loved by the general audience? Can you anything nonspoilery about the dynamics among the characters? Ty so much in advance!

Ooh, tough one for non spoiling.

Best quality? I love a horror movie with a deeper meaning. I like literature and film that makes me feel something, and I like being scared but I LOVE being scared on top of something else.

Uh, there was one specific aspect of the lore of the zombies that I questioned in my feedback. Based on their questions, I think they want to know if their lore and world is solid for a major franchise.

I don’t think anything felt meh to me, there was one scene I was p strongly opposed to them keeping. I’ll be really interested if they take it out, because if they don’t then I think it says a lot about the lore.

Yeah, I think people will be all over the movie. I think they have a hit horror series on their hands. It made me feel similar to how the first season of The Walking Dead made me feel, and I’m always chasing that high. The first few seasons of that show are magic.

Dynamics of the characters: I’ll just confirm what the wiki page says.

Isla, Jamie, and Spike are a little family in a little community. The movie mostly revolves around Spike and his relationships. Him and Edvin Ryding’s character have some fun dialogue.

Hope this gives you something, it’s not much info!