#'so let's add a dozen layers'

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + ten

authors note: i think ya'll will be pleased with majority of this chapter. as far as the ending scene, let me know what ya'll think roman should do. i have it already planned, but i'm always so curious reading other perspectives. btw, they've been married almost four months, for context.

also, to those who want to know about the subplot of solana's bitch ass daddy plotting to kill roman....it's still a subplot. stay tuned.

passages from 'the courage to heal' do not belong to me.

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

cw/tw: violence against women, references to csa, character briefly discussing csa, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 10k (no comment)

Learning to be intimate is rewarding, but it is not always comfortable. As one woman said, “I kept myself safe, but I also kept myself alone.” Becoming intimate means peeling back the layers of protection to let someone in. It means going to the place where you’re comfortable and then taking one step more. One step, not twenty.

Solana must read the passage at least half a dozen times, sitting with the words, meditating with them and doing her best to cope with the discomfort she’s experienced at various points while working her way through the book that’s brought an equal amount of questions as it has answers.

She knew right away going into this section, Healthy Intimacy, that it would most likely be the hardest chapter for her. But not even for the reasons that she initially thought, reasons that would have been the case before a certain Roman Reigns entered her life.

Every day that passes with him seems to bring about a new level of comfort, a new slice of happiness, a new type of contentment. 

She enjoys talking with him and being around him. She looks forward to his meeting her at the end of work and struggles with endless worry when he doesn’t make it back home until the wee hours of the night.

His touch, whether that’s his hand on her back or both hands on her waist as he holds her against him, no longer triggers an automatic tense, uncomfortable feeling. Somewhere along the way, the need to identify his touch as ‘safe’ waned and was replaced with an automatic knowing. Like she knows that it’s okay for him to touch her, because she’s safe. Because she’s safe with him. 

That, along with her continued and also growing attraction, has caused her to think more and more what it could be like to be with someone in that way. The thoughts have been fleeting, far and few over the years, typically followed up with abject horror. But lately….lately she’s been less and less scared and more and more hopeful.

Optimistic that maybe….just maybe, she could one day know what that’s like. To have that experience in a healthy and non-traumatic way with a safe person. With someone who truly desires her in said healthy way.

Someone….someone like Roman.

It’s scary and terrifying and exciting and nerve racking and moving and every other emotion to exist, but on top of all that, for the first time in her life, it’s a possibility for Solana. 

And she wants to take that chance, even if doesn’t work out, even if it’s not what she thought it would be. To be able to say she at least tried, to say that she overcame her fears…it would be monumental.

It would feel like the breaking of mental and emotional chains. 

And it starts today.

Closing up the book, Solana untangles her legs and marks her spot in her book. She gives Dulce a light pat on the head and walks into the bathroom. Opening up the drawer, her eyes land on the pair of scissors. Nothing fancy. Just a pair of regular scissors.

Solana takes a deep breath and grabs them. 

Using one hand to let down her hair from the messy, half-effort bun, she gives her head a good shake. Once, twice, and then a third time. For a brief second, she hesitates, her father’s constant belittling returning to the surface.

“You don’t need short hair. You’ll look even fatter with it.”

Solana shuts her eyes as she thinks of all the times Roman has called her beautiful, has made her feel beautiful. The endless support from Bayley and Naomi. The borderline inappropriate comments form the twins almost every time she sees them.

It all brings an emotional smile to her face as she takes another deep breath.

One step, not twenty.

And she cuts.

________

Samantha can count on one hand in all of the years that she’s known Roman Reigns the times that he’s surprised her with a visit. 

Zero.

He’s always always given her a heads up for his arrival or plans to visit, solely for the mere fact that Roman is a man who doesn’t like to wait. When he wants pussy, he wants it then and now. And she’s never been one to deny the Head of the Table anything he’s ever asked for. 

So when she finds him sitting at her desk, feet propped up with an unreadable expression, it takes her off guard. 

Only for a minute. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time.” Samantha is quick to kick the door shut behind her, locking it right as she tosses her purse on the nearby chair. “You can’t go too long without me.” This fact alone is enough to make her cum right then and there. The fact that even with his roster of women he rotates through, she remains number one. 

Roman knows where it’s at. 

And him coming to her, at her job of all places, just proves it.

Eye dropping to his crotch, she licks her lips at the thought of that thick, beautiful dick in her mouth. Fuck, she’s salivating at just the thought. “You want me on my knees, daddy?”

Samantha starts to kick her shoes off when he finally breaks the silence.

“I want to know what you said to my wife.”

Samantha’s smile drops in under a millisecond. Instantly, she’s scowling. “What?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate to repeat himself, every word perfectly enunciated with his heavy, baritone voice. “What did you say to my wife, Samantha?” 

This….this isn’t how she was expecting this to play out, and it shows in the sudden stuttering, “I—I don’t—”

“She came back from that bathroom upset, and I don’t like seeing her upset, so I’m only gonna ask you one more time—” Samantha nearly jumps back into the door when he suddenly bangs his fist on her wooden desk and growls, “what did you say to her!”

Stammering, she answers with a combination of fear and desperation, “I just—I told her the truth.”

It seems to be the wrong answer, as Roman looks 5x angrier. “And what the fuck is that?”

Samantha gathers herself a little better, voice more even as she answers with misplaced confidence. “That she could never please you. Not how I can.” And with foolish bravery, Samantha steps toward him. “That you’ll always come back to me.”

“You fucking bitch.”

That makes her still with her movements. He’s called her all kinds of names when they’ve fucked, and she’s loved it, loves being fucked hard and rough, his preference. But there’s something about this that she doesn’t love. 

It’s because he sounds legitimately upset with her.

And that, in turn, upsets her, because he cannot seriously be upset that she said some shit to that little girl.

“Why does it matter? It’s not like she means anything to you.” Samantha has to actually laugh. In no universe can she see someone as strong and powerful as Roman caring about a girl like that. But, it’s when he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t voice some type of agreement that her confidence dwindles a bit. “R–right?” Still, nothing. And it’s with that nothing she realizes with all of the anger and shock in the world why he’s so upset.

“Oh my god. Are you serious right now? Her? You really have feelings for her?” Even saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. “What the fuck, Roman? What the hell is so great about her?”

There is absolutely nothing that girl brings to the table for her to have someone like Roman Reigns interested in her. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. What the hell is attractive about a scarred, sliced up, fat bitch?

He finally speaks, warning her in an almost menacing tone. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“That girl is weak, Roman. You can’t be the head of the Bloodline and have someone like her at your side. She doesn’t deserve it.” By now, Samantha has moved over to him, her hands planted on his chest, his eyes closed. “You need….someone strong at your side. Look at what you’ve done just by yourself. Imagine…imagine having a queen to rule with you.” She licks her lips, going in for the kill. “I can be that for you. I can give you an heir. Look at how long it’s been and still nothing, no baby. She’s broken, Roman. That bitch—”

Samantha is silenced by him jumping up from his chair as he shoves her against the wall, hand on her neck. It’s not the first time they’ve been in a similar position. She loves to be choked during sex, and he’s adept at doing just enough to get her off without her passing out. 

But this time, there’s no pressure, no sexual aspect, no foreplay.

This….this is different.

Because this is the first time she’s ever actually been afraid of him.

“If you ever in your fucking life speak on her again, I’ll kill you.” Samantha’s eyes are wide, hand grasping at his. He’s still not actually applying any sort of pressure, probably more so placement  to evoke a level of fear. A reminder that he could end her life in a matter of seconds if that’s what he wanted. “If you ever speak to her again, I’ll kill you. Fucking look at her, and you’re a dead bitch.”

Samantha barely has time to process his threats when he says something in Samoan and steps back, releasing her as she dubs over and gasps loudly from the shock of it all. 

Seconds later, she’s on the floor, laying on her side after fucking Nia has landed her big ass foot in Samantha’s head. 

Nia is looking down with a wicked smile that promises a level of pain. “You talk too fucking much.” She can’t tell if it’s directed to herself or Roman, regardless, he looks unbothered, outside of staring down at her with disgust.

Samantha has no idea where the hell that bitch came from, but her unexpected blow nearly has her seeing stars. She’s writhing on the floor, on her side, cradling her head when Nia yanks her up by her extensions.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Nia kicks her a second time, in her side, and Samantha is almost certain she heard the subsequent cracking of her rib from the impact. Tears fill her eyes. “I’ve wanted to kick your ass since we were kids.”

Helpless and feeling so confused as to how he could do this to her, Samantha sets her teary gaze onto him. She does her best to generate as many tears as she can. “Roman, please—”

“You’re fucking delusional if you really thought I would ever make you anything more than what you were to me.” Samantha sniffles, vision blurred and stomach aching from both the physical and emotional impact of his words. “Nothing.”

A sudden anger fills her, meshing with the growing physical pain. She did this. That fucking bitch has taken Roman from her, her Roman.

“You wanna know what she is to me?” He crouches down and reaches for a lock of her hair, answering just as icily as the disgusted look in his light brown eyes. “Everything you’re not.”

Samantha snarls almost, not even angry at his words as much as her mind is trying to navigate any and all ways to make that little troll pay for this. Pay for stealing her man.

But it’s as Roman is walking out, that he barks his last order to Nia. Not necessarily a necessity given the fact that he’s certain she’s dreamed exactly of how this very moment could and should go down. Granted, this is the one symbolic thing he needs to ensure takes place. 

“Break her fucking jaw.”

________

Handling the Samantha situation is just one of many things to be checked off of Roman’s to-do list for today. He’s got meetings, contracts to review, spreadsheets to update, shipments to see sent off, and a million and one other things. Most of which he’s far from thrilled about but also know needs to be done, regardless if he’d rather say fuck it all just for today. For just a couple hours, even.

Delegate, perhaps. But these are things that can’t be delegated. He, as the Head of the Table, needs to put his signature on to make it official.  

And he’s got his Wise Man fresh on his heel to remind him of such responsibilities.

“And if my Tribal Chief can find it in him, we should also review Nick Aldis' proposal.” Roman’s instantly scowling. He fucking hates Aldis. The bastard is smug and thinks himself more important than he is. That Roman won’t end his fucking life with one snap of his finger. 

Roman is halfway listening to Paul when he walks past Alicia who stands up from her desk. “Sir—”

His dismissal is swift and brusque. “Leave me alone.”

“But—”

One murderous look, and Alicia is back in her seat. Roman briefly overhears Paul chastising his secretary for her insubordination when he opens his door and immediately realizes why Alicia was most likely trying to speak to him.

Roman sees Solo standing almost awkwardly in the corner out of his peripheral vision, but his attention is solely on the other unexpected guest.

Focused on the way her almost flesh toned dress hugs every curve that drives him fucking insane sometimes, the way she bites down on her bottom lip in that way he’s learned she does when she’s unsure of something. And he’s especially focused on her hair that’s chopped down to where it lightly grazes her shoulder.

“I tell you, good help is so hard to find—” Paul is silenced as he finally walks in and sees Solana. “Oh, it’s you.” Roman shoots him a look that would absolutely kill if it had any sort of physical impact. “I mean, Solana, what a surprise—”

Roman easily moves back to focusing on his wife who looks absolutely fucking stunning. He directs his command though to Solo and Paul. “You two, out.”

Solo doesn’t need to be told twice, but Paul seems to meander, even as Roman walks over to Solana. And it’s when Roman has his hands on Solana’s hips and the room is still not cleared, he repeats in a calm voice that’s solely because of Solana’s presence.

If not for her, he’d be screaming at his Wise Man.

“I said get out.”

Roman can practically hear the nervous gulp. “But, sir, we have work—”

Solana frowning pisses Roman off in a way he has to keep from showing. But it’s when she finally speaks and it’s an offer to leave that he really has to reel in his rage. “I can go—”

“No.” That’s the fucking last thing he wants. “Paul is leaving.”

It’s not a suggestion, not a request, not a preferred action.

It’s a fucking demand.

And his Wise Man must realize this, because he’s quickly following in line with Solo and finally leaving Roman alone with Solana who seems still unsure about her presence.

“You have work to do—”

“You really expect me to get anything done when you come in my office looking like this?” He motions to her outfit and sees the way her cheeks tinge reddish as she bites back a smile. “Not happening, sweetheart.”

“I thought it looked nice.” The bashful way she says as such, as if she’s unsure it was an accurate assessment blows his mind. She looks down at the dress as if it’s not the woman wearing said dress that has him pushing back unholy thoughts.

“It doesn’t look nice. You look nice, Solana.” Another one over of her curvy body, and he mutters, “more than nice.” He brings his hand to her hair, brushing his fingers against the ends. “You cut your hair.”

She nods, an almost look of determination in her soft expression. “It was time,” is all she says, and Roman doesn’t need to ask for clarification. This meant something to her. Cutting her hair has a deeper meaning than just wanting something new, and whatever the reason, he’s proud she found it in her to follow through. 

He hates when she asks him, still unsure, “does it…does it look bad?”

He’s not sure he could ever use Solana and ‘bad’ in the same sentence. Ever. “You could never look bad.” 

She smiles, clearly pleased by his compliment. Good. He likes seeing her smile.

“Come here.” Roman takes her hand and leads her over to his desk where he sits down in his chair and doesn’t think twice about guiding her onto his lap. Roman feels her tense for only a couple seconds before she relaxes against him.

“As pleasant a surprise it is to find your fine ass in my office, I know you came for a reason.”

Roman is extremely perceptive. Always has been. He’s noticed the increased comfort Solana has developed and continued to develop with him. The way her discomfort at being looked at too long or even touched in any sort of capacity has shifted into bashful smiles and an almost light in her eyes at being complimented. At someone finding her to be anything but every lie she’s ever been fed.

Her confidence is growing, slowly but surely. And he likes that shit.

So he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep it growing. 

“It’s nothing serious.” It doesn’t have to be. She could come to his office every day if that’s what she wanted. He’d have zero complaints. “I just…I was baking Sopaipillas, and I know you like them and I felt bad because I’m bringing Jimmy and Jey some—”

It’s not until that moment he sees the Tupperware container on his desk. Her thoughtfulness is so unfamiliar but very much appreciated. He chuckles as his fingers carefully tap against her hip. “Thank you, but you know if you keep feeding they asses, they gon’ keep coming over.”

She’s smiling almost, defending them to a certain extent. “They’re really not that bad.” And she’s not entirely wrong. His cousins can be entertaining at times, but beyond that, he likes seeing her comfort level with them increasing as well. 

For her to be as comfortable around them as she’s become, especially with them being men, is extremely significant given her trauma.

He’s proud of her for that just as well.

Still,Roman shrugs and calmly points out. “I spend most of my day with them.” Her other hand lays on his chest as he admits, “I don’t want to come home and see them. I just want to see you.”

Solana gives an expected almost shocked expression followed up with a slight confession of her own. Her voice is soft, like she’s unsure about what she’s about to say but is going with it regardless. “That’s why I wait up for you to get home…because I want to see you too.”

He believes this to be true, but he also knows there’s something else to it. “You worry about me.”

She nods, nervously licking her lips. “I’m trying to work on it though.” She’s been working on a lot of things, a lot of difficult, most likely mentally taxing things. And as proud of her as he is, Roman also recognizes the importance of pacing oneself.

He gently grazes the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Just focus on you, alright?”

The corner of her lips lift into an almost playful grin as she asks innocently, “what if I can do both?” Roman studies her, sees and hears the playfulness. It’s unlike her, but he fucking loves it. She squeals and almost giggles against him as he brings her closer to his chest, her hand squeezing his shoulder as he remains mindful of the placement of his hand on her hip.

Growing comfort or not, he still wants to be respectful of her boundaries.

Still wants to maintain her trust.

“I got me. Always.” Her gaze is on him, softening by the second as he adds on almost quietly. “Just need you to be okay too.”

Okay is such a big word, so layered. She’s not sure she’ll ever be fully okay. Too much trauma. Never enough healing. But there may be some level of okayness she can achieve, and it does feel like that’s something that’s in progress. “I’m getting there.”

And a large part of her healing journey is largely due to the man underneath her, staring at her with almost a sense of fascination, like he’s so enraptured by her. Like he’s smitten with her. The person she once believed no one could ever want has a handsome, powerful man like Roman Reigns holding her, looking at her, wanting her.

A line from the book resurfaces to the front of her mind.

One step, not twenty.

With that as a motivating and supportive mantra, she slowly moves her hand from his shoulder to his face, his beard prickling against her skin.

“Solana…..” She’s not sure she’s ever heard him sound so pained. “Baby, you can’t touch me like this and expect me to not want to kiss you.”

The butterflies in her stomach grow exponentially. Baby. She’s not entirely certain, but she feels like he’s called her this before, that he’s referred to her as such on a different occasion. So, it’s not a mistake, not a one time thing. It’s yet another sign that there wasn’t a dishonest bone in his body when he said he wanted her.

That he wants her.

Her heart is beating a mile a minute as she pools together all of the courage in her body and again chips away another tiny section of her wall of protection. “So kiss me.”

It’s not until this moment that Solana sees Roman actually appear genuinely surprised at something. He asks, maybe as if he needs to make sure he heard correctly, but Solana would bet it’s less that and more him ensuring consent. “Are you sure?”

He’s been so good at that. Consent. And it’s meant the world to her. His patience with all of her baggage.

Nodding, she quickly remembers his preference for verbal acknowledgements. “Yes.”

Solana doesn’t really remember her kiss with Roman at their wedding. She doesn’t really remember much from the actual wedding at all, to be honest. It was….it was more traumatic than anything, which is why she does her best to keep it stored away with the other too difficult to sit on memories.

But this….this she is certain she will never forget.

There’s an almost hesitancy when his lips touch hers, a space he’s leaving open in the event that she changes her mind. She’s grateful for that, but it’s not necessary. Her ‘yes’ was as genuine as his apparent interest in her. 

And when he picks this up, picks up the fact that she truly wants this, he deepens the kiss, his hand moving up to her lower back as he pulls her closer to him. Roman’s full lips are soft and warm, and the way he moves his mouth against hers is both reserved and hungry, a strange but well balanced thing only he can manage. Like only he can achieve. He kisses her with a passion  that she feels is only a fraction of everything he feels toward and for her. 

Solana’s hand slides to the back of his neck, her fingers brushing up and across the skin, teasing the strings of hair that refused to mold down. She’s not sure if this was the right move because he makes a sound against her mouth, an almost mixture of a moan and groan, and pulls away. The separation and her subsequent light panting makes her suddenly aware that they’d been kissing longer than she realized. That she’d gotten so plunged in the experience that time seemed a nonfactor.

Her eyes flutter close when Roman brings his lips back onto her, this time peppering kisses along her jawline. Her head tilts back, an unconscious thing that grants him full access to the nape of her neck, which he easily makes his way down to. It’s a different, pleasant sensation that has her nails scraping against him.

“Roman….”

“So fuckin’ beautiful….” He says something else, something she can’t understand because it’s said in Samoan, but it unintentionally triggers something for her. A new level of bravery, an ability to ask something that makes her insides light afire and heart rate exceed what’s probably safe and healthy. But, it’s a hill she wants to eventually be able to get up and over.

And he’s made her feel safe enough to be the one to do it with.

“Roman.” Her voice must give away her need to say something because he pulls away from her and is focused directly on her. She licks her slightly swollen lips. “I want….I want to try—”

“Whatchu mean he busy? Man, you trippin. Uce always got time for family.” Jimmy’s loud unexpected voice is enough of a disruption and mood killer that Solana quickly jumps off Roman’s lap and moves away just enough to adjust her hair and dress. “Soso!”

Solana brings herself to look at her husband’s cousin as he finally walks in the office after dismissing Alicia’s warning. The first thing she notices is the tupperware bowl in his hand and white substance on his fingers. “I hope you don’t mind. When I saw your driver, I figured you had these little sugar things in the back so I just grabbed em’ all.”

If not for the fact that Solana is still trying to settle herself, she’d point out how the other bowl was supposed to be for Jey. But that seems irrelevant at the moment. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Jimmy seems completely unbothered by Roman’s threat as he plops down on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the glass coffee table and asks with all the obliviousness in the world. “So what ya’ll doing?”

When Roman shoots up from his desk and starts toward his cousin, Solana places herself in front of him, hands on his chest. His attention is immediately down, focused once again on her.

“It’s okay. I—I’ve got training with Bay and Naomi anyway.” Swallowing her nerves and pushing back thoughts of how….how nice it felt kissing him, she quietly offers a hopefully acceptable alternative. “We can talk tonight.”

This doesn’t seem like Roman’s preference but something he can live with. “Fine.”

She knows he’s obviously annoyed at being interrupted, and she is too, to a certain extent. But, Jimmy meant no harm, and she hopes Roman can at least recognize as much. Solana says bye to Jimmy and is near the door where she sees Solo waiting for her when an idea, more an urge, becomes too prominent to push away.

She turns back around and leans up, pulling Roman down by his shoulders and kisses his cheek. He gives her a look that tells her he’d be pulling her back for more if not for her cousin, and it makes her stomach somersault all over again.

But, she doesn’t give him the opportunity, just a small smile as she walks out for good this time. 

And it’s after she’s gone, the Wise Man back in the room to help minimize the chances of his Tribal Chief killing one of his cousins that Jimmy uses the distraction to pull out his phone and send a text in the group chat. 

Group Chat: Operation RoSo

Jimmy: Ya’ll! Code red! Code fucking red!

Jey:?????????

Bayley: Is Solana okay?!

Naomi: ^^^^^^

Jimmy: Man, I just got to Uce office, and good thing I walked in when I did. They acting all weird and shit. Soso just ran out of here but not after telling him they’ll ‘talk’ tonight!!!!

Jey: I’m too high for this shit right now.

Naomi: Babe, how exactly is that a code red???

Jimmy: They was obviously arguing before I got here! And ‘talking’ tonight??? That ain’t nothing but part two!

Bayley: Jimmy, that seems like a bit of a stretch.

Jey: A big ass stretch. Man, leave them two alone.

Jimmy: Naw. We gotta expedite this plan. I can see the writing on the wall. If we don’t move fast, they never gon fall in love. They might even be starting to hate each other now!

Bayley: Now you’re just being dramatic.

Jey: Agreed. How I get out this chat?

Jimmy: I don’t wanna hear it! I’m the master strategist so let me do my thing! 

Jimmy: Babe. You and Bayley have SoSo all done up and nice this evening. Make her think ya’ll are going out or something.

Naomi: Why?

Jimmy: Damnit woman, because I said so!

Naomi: 🫤

Naomi: I’m trying to figure out who the fuck you think you talking to. Don’t get your ass beat.

Jey: I’m muting this shit. Ya’ll not gon get me killed. Roman don’t like people in his business.

Jimmy: Just have her ready, and I’ll text you the location and the time she needs to be there.

Jimmy: We gotta save RoSo from themselves!

________

Solana misses the blow from Naomi by only a fraction of a second, but before she has time to think about it, another one is coming, forcing Solana to quickly jump to the side.

“Nice,” Naomi compliments. “Try more offensive positions though. Try to hit me.”

Solana knew that was coming, knew that Naomi would be pushing her today, as she has the last couple times. It only makes sense. Solana recognizes that she’s improving, that she has improved a lot since she started. It seems only natural that Naomi would continue to push her to further the progression of her skills.

“Don’t be afraid, Solana! Naomi can take it,” Bayley encourages from the sidelines, drinking some of her Gatorade.

Solana does her best to not get too distracted, knowing that can be quite literally fatal if this was a real situation. 

Naomi lunges at her again, and Solana manages to block it with her forearm but also lifts her foot, managing to kick Naomi away.

“Nice!” It’s such a weird thing to be applauded for. “But remember to retract your foot faster next time. I could have twisted it and grounded you.”

Solana commits that to memory just as Naomi steps back and Bayley walks back over. She then compliments, “I know I said it already, but the haircut looks amazing on you.” She quickly adds in a manner that’s more telling than asking. “Just have to even some areas off.”

Solana half smiles. She expected Bayley to need to go in with actual shears to shape up some areas given the fact that Solana’s impromptu haircut was literally just her taking some regular scissors and chopping at least five inches off. 

But before Solana can say anything else, she sees why Bayley ended her break to get back into the training. 

It’s evident by the knife in her outstretched hand.

“This is a Benchmade Bailout. It’s a folding knife. A little bigger than what we’d like you to carry on you, but a good place to start.”

Carrying….Solana hadn’t even allowed herself to think about that part. Of course they’d want her to start keeping a knife on her once teaching her how to use one.

Naomi then advises, “we’re not gonna do any fight training with it today, but we do want you to get used to the feel and weight of it.”

Solana can feel her heartbeat increasing. She can’t remember the last time, if ever, she’s held a knife of this nature. Her left hand is against her shorts, tapping against the spandex, a continued nervous habit.

Bayley sees this and offers assurance. “It’s okay. We just want to go over the basics.”

Solana does her best to focus not on the past, but the present. The here and now. Another recommendation from her book. She also strangely remembers the countless times Roman has asserted he won’t let anything happen to her. 

“I’ve got you.”

The safe feeling she has when he’s around. He’s not physically present, but the recollection of his words anchor her.

Taking a deep breath, Solana takes the knife from Bayley, its coolness taking her by surprise. She never takes her eyes off the blade. 

Meanwhile, Naomi goes into basic tips and information. “Right off the bat, if you ever need to use it to defend yourself, go for the major arteries.” She then begins pointing to the various body parts as she lists them off. “The neck, stomach, chest area namely. It’s your best bet at getting someone almost entirely immobilized.”

“And this might be graphic, but don’t be afraid to go for it twice. Sometimes people can still be standing with just one hit.” Solana is grateful for the fact that Bayley is trying to be careful with her words, vague to a certain extent but clear enough so she can understand.

“If you just wanna get them away and not potentially kill them, maybe go for the hand or foot, depending on how they’ve got you pinned.”

“But by the time we finish your training, no one will get the chance to pin you.” Naomi gives a comforting smile and squeeze of her shoulder. “Not to mention Roman would never let you be in that position in the first place.”

Solana doesn’t doubt that one bit.

Bayley suddenly clears her throat, almost awkwardly. 

Solana frowns, looking lost by the otherwise random in interjection. “What?”

“We’re not supposed to tell you, but Roman is taking you out to dinner tonight.” Naomi’s answer is appreciated, but it doesn’t make sense. 

“He what?” Solana is confused because she literally just saw Roman this morning and came straight from his office to the Warehouse to train without him mentioning a word of this. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Bayley adds, but there’s something almost unsure about her answer. “So, I’ll take you to my salon afterwards to touch up your hair now, and then we can also figure out glam while you’re there.”

“Yes.” Naomi claps and carefully removes the knife from Solana. The knife she completely forgot she was holding. Naomi comments on that. “See? You forgot about it for a minute, didn’t you?” Solana nods. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.” 

The encouragement means the world to Solana as she offers a quiet but meaningful, “thank you.” They’ll never know how much their support means to her. 

Ever.

Bayley comes and stands beside Solana, sliding her arm around her with that infamous sly smile.”You never have to thank us for being your friends, Solana.” Words have never hit so deeply, Solana having to hold back tears. Friends.  “Now let’s figure out what the slay is gonna be for tonight.”

________

The minute Solana walks into the restaurant, she realizes that something is off. 

And not even in a dangerous sort of way, more so, there’s something she’s not being told sort of way.

It’s a beautiful upscale restaurant that has decor that probably costs more than some people’s mortgage payment. 

But it’s barren. Not a customer in sight. 

Walking up the three steps that lead to a higher level, she looks around, confused as to the fact that a restaurant that probably requires reservations six months in advance is vacant. 

Digging in her small purse, she pulls out her phone to text Roman. Bayley and Naomi encouraged her to continue to play dumb, but this isn’t right. 

She needs to talk to him.

“Solana?”

Her head snaps up to see Roman who also just walked up the same steps she did minutes prior.

“Roman?”

He seems surprised to see her, an unexpected expression for someone who allegedly planned this dinner. “I—I don’t know what’s going on.” He walks over to her as she explains. “I was told—”

“Probably the same thing I was told,” he finishes for her and takes in her appearance, Solana’s hands smoothing over her dress. Looking just as captivated as he’d looked at her this morning in his office, Roman ghosts the back of his hand against her cheek. “Sei uno splendore….”

She hasn’t a clue what he’s said, but something tells her it’s a compliment of some sort. Still, Solana asks with that same bashful smile that seems to always fall on her face when she’s around him, “are you gonna tell me what you just said?”

Roman winks and answers, plain and simple, “naw.”

Smiling even harder, before she can say anything else, another voice enters the conversation.

“Soso, girl, what you doing here?”

Both Solana and Roman turn to a smiling Jimmy who's wearing a poorly feigned look of surprise. 

“Jimmy?” Solana is genuinely confused while Roman looks like he’s genuinely considering murdering his cousin for the second time today. “What—what are you doing here?”

Roman is completely uninterested in the why and more so on the how he’s going to end the other man. “I’m going to fucking kill him, Solana. I don’t care anymore.”

Jimmy completely ignores Roman and answers her question with an answer that makes no sense. “Ahh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.”

He gives Solana a side hug as she answers his question as well, hoping to avoid witnessing a familial crime. “Bayley and Naomi told me—”

“You know what, it don’t even matter. You here. Big Dog here.” He gestures around them. “Looks like this nice ass restaurant has been rented out by some coincidence. Might as well enjoy a nice dinner.”

Roman closes his eyes, seemingly trying to count off. “I’m literally going to snap your fucking neck if you don’t get lost. Now.”

Solana moves over to Roman just enough for him to reach and gently tug her into him. He doesn’t need to be getting this upset. She naturally lays her head against his chest, fingers grasping the sides of his shirt.

Jimmy lifts his hands in a surrender manner. “Hey. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Solana smiles at the look she can imagine on Roman’s face at that. “Ya’ll be safe now. Soso, I’ll be at the crib in the morning for breakfast.”

“Why the fuc—” 

Solana reaches up and redirects his focus onto her. “It’s okay.” Solana looks over at the table that’s beautifully decorated with a stunning centerpiece. “It’s….it’s sweet.” Her diversion also, thankfully, a long enough distraction for Jimmy to depart, leaving the two of them alone.

Her preference.

Roman’s as well, clearly.

Solana then takes in the situation, a little relieved to finally know what’s going on. It’s obvious she was set up. Roman too. But regardless of the deception, it’s deeply appreciated. Her friends going to such lengths to set up something nice like this. 

Roman, calming down a bit, doesn’t necessarily disagree with her, but instead asserts, “they’re interfering, and I don’t like that shit.” 

Her smile dims a bit as she offers, “we can leave—”

“No.” He shoots it down immediately, hands on her hips. “Just hate that I finally get time alone with you, and it’s because of fucking Jimmy.” Her eyes shut when he kisses her forehead and murmurs, “been thinking’ bout you all day…”

And the smile is back as she takes his hand and leads him toward the table, Roman pulling her chair out for her. 

Having the restaurant entirely rented out is a luxury she’s not used to but appreciates, especially with how catered the service is as well as the fact that they don’t have to wait long for the food. Conversation flows easy between them, more Roman asking questions about how she’s doing, if she needs anything.

He’s always so attentive, and she’s so grateful for that. 

Grateful for him.

It’s the same type of attentiveness that causes her to comment after the waiter comes and takes their plates, clearing the table. “You seem stressed.”

And not just because of the date setup.

He shrugs, partially dismissing but not outright denying. “Just a long day.”

It seems to be a recurring theme with him. Solana has noticed for a while now how his early days always bleed into late evenings that sometimes spill over to the next day. It doesn’t seem sustainable to her. “You have a lot of those.”

“I’m the Tribal Chief.” He says it with pride, as he should, but there’s something else there. Something she can’t outright identify. “Comes with the territory.”

And Solana recognizes as such, but as large of a man Roman is—in many different ways—he’s still just a man. “Is it ever too much?” She crosses her arms across the table, leaning forward almost. There may be no other attendees present, but there are still workers, so she’s mindful of her volume. “I mean….”

“Do I ever get exhausted?” She nods. “Sure.” That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Roman does such an excellent job always wearing that mask of calm, cool, and collected. Outside of his obvious temper, he’s always so well put together. It’s something she envies, to a certain extent. “But someone’s gotta do it, and as it’s my birthright, the responsibility falls on me.”

She sits on his words, understanding where he’s coming from but also wondering just how he manages such a weight. She knows he’d headed the Bloodline for some time now, since he was 18 years old. That’s a large burden to carry at such a young age and for him to do it so long and as well as he has, it’s impressive.

He certainly lives up to his reputation.

Solana nods and does her best to ease into what she’d really like to tell him, to have him know even if he never in life takes her up on it. “You always say that I can talk to you…”

Roman doesn’t hesitate to reaffirm it too. “You can.”

She knows this. He’s….he’s made it abundantly clear that he wants to speak with her, to know what’s on her mind. “That goes both ways.” Something speedily flashes in his eyes, briefly affecting his otherwise neutral expression. “You can talk to me too.”

For a second, she regrets saying anything, regrets second guessing his abilities to handle things. The last thing she wants is to insinuate he’s somehow incapable of taking care of business. But, if he’s insulted by her offer, he doesn’t show it, just says a simple, “thank you.” She offers a small nod when he seemingly changes the subject. “How’s training?”

There’s a bit of a sting at what feels like a slight form of rejection, but she understands better than anyone that opening up can be hard, so she respects his wishes.

“Good. I….I think I like it.” It’s the truth. While initially terrified of being put into such a foreign situation, Solana has found herself growing increasingly content with this new part of her weekly routine. Training has assisted, to a great extent, in her growing confidence and surety with herself. There’s something comforting about learning how to defend herself, how to keep herself safe. “Today was a little hard though. They’re teaching me how to fight with knives. It’s…..uncomfortable, but that’s how I know I need to do it.”

If there’s anything she’s learned in the past couple months, it’s that nothing about working to overcome trauma is easy. That doesn’t, however, make it any less important.

Or beneficial. 

“Not if you absolutely don’t want to.” To be fair, Roman wasn’t even informed that this was something the girls were starting with Solana. He makes a mental note to remind them that while they handle her training, the specifics of what she’s taught needs to be run by him at all times. He probably would have shot down the knife training.

Solana was literally present and witnessed her mother be stabbed to death. Solana herself was also stabbed. 

That seems almost cruel to make her learn how to wield the very weapon that took so much from her.

“Wes used to use knives to hurt me.” It comes out more quiet than she intended, a natural effect of sharing something so painful. She points to a small scar on her neck, the exact date and nature of how it happened, something she’ll never forget but has little desire to elaborate on.

“And I know….I know you won’t let him hurt me anymore, but….I don’t want him to have that power over me anymore either. He knows I’m scared of them, and he’s always taken advantage of that fact. I don’t….I don’t want him to have that anymore.”

“Then he won’t,” Roman agrees. He can understand her logic, and he respects the hell out of her wanting to take back that power. He supports the hell out of it too. “Not if you don’t let him.”

She gives a sad smile, shaking her head. “As strange as it is, I think….Wes and I are both victims.” Before Roman can press her for clarification, she explains, “my father always kept his contact limited with my mom. He said she would make him weak like she made me.” Just saying it takes Solana back to countless times and occasions where her father would talk down on her mother, talk down on Solana. It’s a weighty memory. “Having my mom…having her love for the time that I did made a big difference for me. Wes never got that, so I always wonder how things could have been different if he did.”

Solana has a big heart. Pure. A mind-boggling phenomena to Roman considering everything she’s been through. “It still doesn’t make what he’s done to you right.” Kind heart or not, it’s imperative she knows there’s never a good enough reason or excuse for anyone to do what he’s done to her.

She nods, “I know.” It’s still a work in progress, Solana learning to unlearn the victim blaming she’s placed on herself for so many years. But, that much, she’s come to accept.

She never deserved any of Wes or her father's abuse.

Roman can see the way memories might be coming back to the front of her mind and moves to redirect again. “You wanted to talk to me about something earlier.”

Oh.

For a second, she wants to lie. To make up something. To come up with a story that’s hopefully believable enough for him to not poke holes through. And then another line from her book resurfaces.

Calculated risks are different—you weigh your chances and step out onto the ice only when you’re relatively sure it’s solid.

Solana is certain she’s never met a more solid person than Roman.

Scooting back in her chair, she feels his watchful gaze around her as she moves around the table and is only inches away from him when he realizes what she's doing and beats her to it, gently pulling her onto his lap. He’s always so careful around her.

Solana moves her arms around his neck as he rests one hand on her hip.

She takes a deep breath. “I was...I was working out of my book this morning, and it was the chapter on…on intimacy and—” She has to pace herself, knowing that if she doesn’t, she won’t get through the conversation. And she has to do this. She almost feels like she needs to do this. “I think I always thought I couldn’t have that because of what happened to me, but…..but I think I can.” 

And this has been such a powerful and moving revelation to walk into. For so long, Solana has lived in fear and trauma, haunted by the horrific memories of her sexual assault. It’s inaccurately painted her views of what should and could be something beautiful and special with the right person. She never thought that could be possible for her though, believed that her chance had been destroyed by two sick individuals.

But if the past few months have taught her anything, it’s that there are decent people in the world. Decent men in the world. Jimmy. Jey. Solo.

Roman

She’s still very much nervous, and even talking about it has her pushing back a level of anxiety, but the desire to overcome that trauma, to be able to experience that as a woman, to not be held down by the shackles of her past, is stronger than it’s ever been before.

“And I want to try.” She licks her lips, nervously adding on and explaining as best she can, “but, I can’t do it right away. I need….I need to build up to it, and I know—that has to be frustrating for you—”

“Solana.” His interruption is quiet but firm. “We’ll go as slow as you want.” His finger is moving in slow circles on her hip, an action that provides her a strange sense of comfort. “Whatever you need is what we’ll do.”

Solana releases a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. Him agreeing isn’t something she necessarily didn’t see coming, she just didn’t realize it’d come so easy. 

She almost feels it’s too good to be true.

Suddenly unsure, Solana double checks. “You’re….you’re okay with that?”

He doesn’t miss a beat with his answer. “Only if you’re sure this is what you want.”

It’s a profound statement. There’s a lot of things she’s not sure of that she’s been making herself do, regardless. 

But this……

This is something she wants.

Something she maybe even needs.

Solana is careful with her answer. “I’m gonna be 29 this year, and the only sexual experience I’ve had is being raped as a child.” There’s an equal combination of emotion and conviction as she affirms, “I don’t want that to be my story anymore.”

And it won’t.

Because she won’t let it.

Not anymore. 

“Then we’ll do this.” She nods, still nervous but also comforted by his support. “You know I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for, but I also need you to be good about communicating with me.” His eyes move up and down over her, resting slightly longer on her chest, which is understandable given the revealing nature of her dress. “And you also know how attracted I am to you, to all of you, so I need you to stay clear with me on what you are and aren’t comfortable with, okay?”

It’s fair and completely understandable. Roman is still a man. A man with needs, and he strikes her as being an otherwise handsy man, so him wanting and needing to know where her red zones are is important.

“I understand.” And she’ll make an active, concerted effort to be on top of that. To practice saying no and cutting things off when she needs to. “What—what about you?” He gives her a look. “Is there….is there anything you’re not comfortable with?”

Again, he takes her in, head to toe. His tongue leaves his mouth to slowly gloss over his bottom lip. “Baby, you can do whatever you want with me.”

Her smile is bashful as she looks away. Him being so….outspoken about his attraction and desire for her is still a new thing she’s trying to navigate, but it’s not unwanted. Nor does it feel bad to have a man like him want her so badly.

Not at all. 

Deciding to continue to stay on the ledge she’s already started to trail, Solana brings her hand to his chest. “So….so if I asked you to kiss me again….”

He chuckles, Solana’s eyes shutting as he brings his mouth to her jawline, “whenever,” her nails claw against his chest as he moves his lips to her nose, “however,” finally he’s teasing the corner of her mouth. “Wherever you want.” 

And it’s at the exact moment their lips connect again that a phone ringing once again steals away another groundbreaking moment. 

Solana can feel the irritation in his muscular body and smiles against his lips. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” She doesn’t necessarily doubt it as he kisses her cheek before pulling his phone out and answering as she lays her head in his neck. He barks out an unkind, “what?”

It doesn’t deter her as he keeps his grip on her hip, Solana enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. She’s starting to realize being this close to him makes her feel safe. His presence alone gives her that feeling, but this is something different, something almost…deeper.

She doesn’t try to listen in on his phone call, but it’s made virtually impossible not to, given the fact that she’s literally on his lap. However, that’s ended when he switches to speaking in Samoan. Still, it’s not hard to pick up on the fact that he’s growing more annoyed with every second that passes. 

He then gives a heavy sigh, switching to English, “I’ll be there in a bit.”

Her stomach drops, a frown appearing that she does her best to quickly push away. She had a feeling the call would end that way. 

Before he can explain to her the obvious, she lifts her head and assures, “it’s okay. I should probably get back to Dulce anyway.”

“Damn dog is so needy.” Solana smiles at the scowl on his handsome face. For someone who doesn’t care for dogs, she’s noticed he seems to interact with her puppy more and more as the days pass. He brings his hand to her chin, ensuring she keeps her gaze on him. “Don’t wait up, alright?”

It’s an expected request, one he should already know she’ll do her best to, but most likely won’t, abide by. 

“I make no promises...” 

________

Having such a small dog means that he or she can be in the most random of places and blend in seamlessly because of said smallness. It’s why in looking for Dulce after getting out the shower, Solana damn near searches every corner and crevice of the first and second floors of the mansion. Outside of a room that’s been locked and closed off the past two weeks, Roman not really giving her a reason why nor has she pushed.

She’d never been in it anyway.

It is, however, out of the norm though for Dulce to not be nearby. She typically likes to stay close to Solana.

Or even Roman.

So for a moment, Solana starts to get concerned. But after searching her room, the kitchen, the dining room, and even the backyard a second time, Solana is finally able to locate Dulce in the least expected place.

Roman’s room. 

She didn’t even realize Dulce’s bed was still in there, still in the original spot on the side of his bed.

The side she had slept on that one night.

“Dulce, you can’t stay in here.” Solana knows Roman isn’t a huge dog person, and Dulce being in his room is probably the last thing he’ll want to see when he gets back. But it’s in reaching over to pick up her puppy that something unexpected happens. 

Dulce nips at her.

Solana gasps, momentarily taken off guard. That’s the first time Dulce has done that. “Dulce, no.” Again, Solana goes for the grab only for the puppy to plant her bottom and back legs into the bed. Now Solana is just straight up confused. “What is wrong with you?”

Thinking maybe she can lure the puppy with a toy, Solana turns to leave, almost to the door when Dulce’s whimpering and the patter of her little feet stops her. Solana turns around and moves to grab her when Dulce scampers right back over to her bed, plopping her little body down.

It’s when she does that, Solana starts to catch on.

“You want to stay in here?” Dulce’s reply is a bark followed by the wag of her tail. Solana frowns. “We can’t…..this is Roman’s room.”

And yet even as the words leave her mouth, she thinks about that. Thinks about the fact that a part of working up to being intimate with Roman includes being close to him, touching him, in his bed perhaps. And though she still doesn’t remember everything from the night she got drunk, she remembers waking up in his bed and falling asleep again in the same bed with zero issues.

She felt….she felt comfortable. 

She felt safe.

“We can stay for a little while.” Deep down, Solana knows Roman won’t be upset with her. If anything, he’ll be more annoyed that she didn’t listen and decided to wait up, but her laying in his bed for a few minutes won’t generate anger.

Solana puts her phone on the nightstand, making sure the ringer is still on. The likelihood of him texting or even calling her is slim to none, but still….she doesn’t want to miss it if he does.

Laying on his bed is the initial plan, but there’s a chill in his room that has her moving under the covers just to provide her that slight warmth. It’s not intended to increase her comfort and definitely not intended to lead to her falling asleep.

But that’s exactly what happens. 

It’s also the last thing Roman expects to find when he makes it back home a couple hours later. 

Solana asleep in his bed. 

He knew she would try to stay up, knew she would end up falling asleep in trying to stay up, but he didn’t know she would end up doing all of that in his room, in his bed.

It’s unexpected but far from unwanted, a strange sense of satisfaction at seeing her sleeping so comfortably, so peacefully in his space of all places. 

He’s careful in his movements around the room, gathering clothes to change into post shower. Roman doesn’t want to disturb her, to wake her up, especially since he has a good guess that she didn’t intend to end up in his bed and would be unnecessarily apologetic. 

Apologetic for something he’s halfway considering asking her to make a permanent thing.

Roman manages to finish his shower without Solana so much as moving an inch. If only her damn dog was the same, because he’s barely able to open the bathroom door when Dulce is at his feet, whimpering.

Small ass dog with an even smaller ass bladder. 

Before she can progress to barking, he’s got her up in his arms, guiding her out the room, down the stairs and into the backyard where she thankfully wastes zero time in doing her business. Roman is grateful, not wanting a second to pass where Solana could wake up, freak the fuck out, and leave.

He wants her to stay right where she is.

And it’s in sliding into the bed with her, moving his arm over her body and gently pulling her into him, he realizes another reason why he doesn’t want her to leave. There’s an unfamiliar almost instant peace he has at the feel of her next to him, like this is how it should be, like she should be with him.

Like she’s supposed to be with him.

But he clearly wasn’t thinking straight when he moved her, because she’s suddenly stirring in her sleep, eyes slowly blinking open.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to wake her up. 

Roman’s half expecting her to freak out, to panic at being this close to him, at being in bed this close to him. But she again surprises him with a quiet murmur that’s more an acknowledgment than anything. “You’re back….” He watches as she frowns almost, an indication of worry, asking in a voice full of sleep. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He brings his hand to her cheek, recognizing that even though she’s talking, she’s very much still half-sleep. “Go back to sleep.”

Solana gives a little nod and the moment he pulls his hand away, she inches closer to him. He shifts their positions, so he’s on his back, and she’s tucked safely into his side. In what feels like seconds, she’s fast asleep. 

Yeah….

A discussion about her moving into his room is definitely on the table, preferably sooner rather than later. It makes sense to him for a lot of reasons, namely the fact that she’s clearly comfortable sleeping with him in this way but also the fact that she’s expressed a desire to work up to being intimate.

Roman’s had sex in a lot of different places, but there’s no way in fucking hell he could ever have his first time with Solana be anywhere but a bed. 

His bed.

He plays around with a few different ideas on how to broach the subject before sleep prevails over him too.

It’s the fastest he’s fallen asleep in years.

And he’s certain it has nothing to do with the long ass day he had but everything to do with the woman besides him.

But his sleep is short lived by the vibrating of his phone on the nightstand. Irritated at the interruption of his sleep, he’s not surprised. Roman’s always been a light sleeper.

He peers down to make sure Solana remains undisturbed in her slumber, and seeing that she’s still sleeping as peacefully as before with her body somehow more over his than he remembered, he grabs his phone.

Paul: Sorry to disturb you so late, sir, but I got the files you requested for Miller. Emailed. As we already know, he’s almost a million in the hole. Has been in debt over the past twenty years. Never in the green. The bulk of it was accumulated in 2005. 500K. Summer 2005. Strangely, in that same month, it was cut in half to 250K. Then mysteriously zeroed out in late 07.

Roman sits on the brief summary provided by his Wise Man. It doesn’t add up. He already knew Miller was in the hole. The man is a fucking idiot when it comes to finances, so him being that deeply in debt isn’t surprising, but him somehow getting rid of a quarter million debt is. The fucker isn’t smart enough to pull that off.

Roman: Who was the creditor?

Paul: Still looking into that. 

Roman: Anything significant about 07’?

Paul: Not that I can see. Still digging though.

Roman doesn’t like mysteries. Can’t stand unanswered questions. They’ve always driven him fucking insane. It’s why he finds himself unable to fall back asleep, an inconvenient thing given the fact that he’ll need to be up and out of bed in a little under three hours. Still, he can’t get the dates and information out of his head. 

How the fuck did a dumbass like Miller clear his ledger to that extent? It’s not unheard of. Roman could have done it. Easily. But, he’s also significantly smarter than his wife’s dumbass father. 

Even more, what the hell did Miller need or have done for fucking half a million dollars? 

Was he moving product? Weapons, maybe? Human trafficking? Just the thought of that last one makes Roman want to place his fist through the nearest wall. 

But it’s Solana stirring on top of him that serves as the unintended trigger that helps him fill in the rest of the gaps.

He’s quick with the text to the Wise Man.

Roman: When was Solana’s mother killed?

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Answer the fucking question.

There’s a brief delay followed by those three dots and an answer.

Paul: 2005. August. 

Wheels start turning as Roman begins putting the harrowing pieces together. Miller went into half a million dollar debt in August of 2005 that somehow got slashed in half at the end of the same month. The same month that Solana and her mother were attacked, and only one of them made it out alive.

Half…..

2007….

Roman does some mental math. Solana was born in 95. She’ll be 29 this year. That puts her at age 12 back in 07’.

12.

The same age she was when she was raped.

The same year the largest chunk of her father’s debt suddenly zeroed out and disappeared like it never happened in the first place.

And just like the night he found out Solana was a survivor of childhood sexual assault, the unbridled horror and disgust that filled him in knowing the truth, Roman is starting to wish he wasn’t so good at connecting the dots. That he wasn’t able to put two and two together.

Because the picture is more fucking horrifying than anything he’s encountered in some time. If ever.

Because he’s now faced with the dilemma of just how in the hell he’s supposed to tell Solana that her father is responsible for her mother’s murder but also her being raped.

Because now he’s faced with the dilemma of if he should tell her at all.

Roman closes his eyes.

Shit just got infinitely more complicated.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Lovesick Leviathan

Male Leviathan x Gender Neutral Slime Reader (CW: Painless noncon, inhuman reader, size difference, kidnapping, magical branding, temporarily frozen reader, general yandere behavior, minor character death, extreme violence towards minor character) Word count: 3.3k (Piece developed with a lot of input and help from @maxog3n, they also did the amazing art posted with this piece. I am sorry this took so long, but really hope you all enjoy it.)

Screams of pain, some ominous cracking sounds, and then silence.

Auggie let out a defeated sigh as he peeled the body of the human he had just fucked to death off of his cock, their pulverized insides mixed with his blue cum and leaking out everywhere.

Like the others that had died to his amorous pursuits, he hadn’t meant to kill them. In fact, he had loved each one of them and wanted them to be his mate. He carefully determined a suitable candidate, brought them home against their will, and eventually couldn’t contain his lust anymore and fucked them.

The problem was that he was not human. He was a leviathan and his massive member was simply too huge, both long and thick, and his thrusts were powerful. None survived even a single round with him.

He shed a tear as he buried his latest victim.

Then he wiped it away and immediately regained his usual jovial composure. That’s okay, they just weren’t “the one”. He had to expect these kinda snags every now and then if he was going to put himself out on the market.

It was just how dating worked.

Auggie decided that he needed to clear his mind and leave his shack for a while. Get some fresh air. Maybe he would add to his collection of items. Much like a mermaid, leviathans like him hoarded trinkets and baubles.

He made the decision to hit up the old abandoned building a few miles up the coast from his seaside abode. He did not know what the building had once been for, but he was very adventurous and was always looking for new stuff to add to his collection of treasures or materials to extend his shack with.

The leviathan definitely didn’t feel like going into town. Sure, the humans all fled and he could take whatever he wanted, but he did not want to deal with the panicked screams. Plus, he had already done that a dozen times, he wanted to explore somewhere new. And besides, the town was a lot farther than the abandoned facility and he didn’t feel like being out too late. Not with the long he had.

Auggie left the confines of his ramshackle house, and waded into the water, the blood from his previous “mate” leaving a faint trail of blood behind him as he swam up the coast towards his destination.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You were thrilled, your home was finally starting to feel cozy. Or whatever passed as cozy for a saltwater slime.

Spending all your life in the water just did not appeal to you, the surface was just so fascinating. You had spent a little time among some open-minded humans, but you longed to be closer to the sea.

So when you found a brine filled desalination plant completely abandoned for you to do with as you pleased you knew you had found a home from which you could explore the surrounding land and retreat to should the need arise.

It had taken a while, a little over a month, for you to tidy the place up and get things how you liked it. You had decorated the place with seashells, dead corals, and current smoothed glass to make everything feel more natural. You had even covered the first floor with a thick layer of sand!

Everything was perfect.

Just when you were admiring the work you had finally completed when you heard the stomping of a large animal of some type approaching.

You peered out the window and gasped.

A huge… thing… approached.

You had no idea what he could be. You only assumed it was a he because of the giant uncut cock flopping from below the most tiny and useless loincloth imaginable.

The lumbering behemoth had a chubby build, striking blue skin, scales from his ankles to his knees and from his wrists to his elbows, he had fins where a human’s ears would be, sharp teeth, and his dark medium length hair wasn’t hair at all, but instead a writing mass of tentacles.

He came closer and closer to the desalination facility, your home, it was clear it was his intent to enter and not just pass by like you had hoped.

The best option was to hide yourself. Luckily you were crystal clear, like gooey water, and could camouflage yourself easily.

There were many steel barrels along the wall to catch water from a sometimes leaky roof, you decided to hop in, even if he peeped in all you would just blend right in with the water that was in it.

Seconds after you got in you heard the door creak open.

Auggie took a few steps in and looked around the place, getting a handle of his surroundings.

The place had sand everywhere. And dried corals, shells, and smooth glass everywhere. Odd. It clearly wasn’t as abandoned as it had appeared to be from outside.

Maybe there was a potential mate here! If he wanted to find his soul mate he knew he had to be open minded about finding his partner wherever they may happen to meet.

And whoever called this place home had an aesthetic he enjoyed. They lived in a run down building not entirely unlike his shack, they were opportunistic like he was and they decorated the place to be like the ocean from which he originated.

He was sure he would get along well with whoever lived here.

You could not see him from your current position in the barrel, but you could hear him walking around and sniffing as if hunting for something.

Auggie explored every nook and cranny, using his sensitive nose to guide him, but even though it was clear as day that someone was using this as a home he could detect no scent other than that of saltwater.

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to return to his original mission, seeking out trinkets for his treasure hoard and possibly materials to build with.

He found some rope and used it to tie some sheets of metal to his back, but other than that he hadn’t found much for his home. Carrying these he wouldn’t be able to swim back, he’d have to walk back at a leisurely pace.

Auggie started to head towards the doors to leave, as he did you heard the sound of his footsteps retreating and were so relieved.

But it was premature, he was disappointed in his haul so he took one last glance around the room just in case he missed something. He spied some pristine barrels in the corner. He could always use a nice new barrel!

The giant invader found one that was full of water, likely from that storm last night, it was pretty hot and since he had to walk back a refreshing splash of water would be nice and cooling should he need it on the return trip home.

You panicked as you and the water around you sloshed as he picked up the container that was currently serving as your hiding place. But your only option was to remain hidden for as long as you possibly could and make a break for it when you could.

Despite not having a traditional stomach you still felt very nauseous at being jostled with every step your unwitting kidnapper made. With how you were disoriented, you could not even give an accurate estimate of how long you had been in your current predicament, what was probably just thirty or forty minutes felt like unending hours.

Finally the moving about came to a stop, maybe he was home, maybe he would leave the container outside to use for water collection, you dared to hope. But these hopes were short lived as the behemoth lifted the container up and poured it over himself to cool off, causing you to tumble out in your default humanoid shape and reflexively grab on to whatever you could to prevent falling.

Whatever you could grab was the man who invaded your home, your gel-like arms around his broad shoulders.

You stared at each other for a moment until Auggie got a slight blush that was quickly replaced by a huge grin, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth.

A brand new romantic interest just fell right into his lap! Well, you weren’t on his lap yet, but there would be time for that soon enough.

When you had recovered from the shock of being dumped directly on to this strange blue man you pushed yourself off of him and fell to the ground with a wet plop.

You started running.

“Hey wait! That’s really rude! I haven’t decided if I’m your boyfriend yet!!!”

What the hell was wrong with this guy? You heard him utter some strange mystic sounding words before hearing an odd whoosh and suddenly you felt indescribably heavy. Your vision frosted over and you fell over. Hard.

Everything was so cold, you couldn’t move at all! You had been completely frozen, evidently this crazy man had ice magic. Just your luck.

“Don’t worry, I am pretty sure I will be your boyfriend! I liked all the décor in your former home. We have so much more in common than the people I normally date!”

He walked up to you slowly, picked you up carefully, and then placed you back in the barrel he had been unwittingly hauling you in.

This manner of being handled was… humiliating to say the least.

Once again you were jostled around in the barrel, now without water and with more pain in your newly acquired solidified form. It was so restrictive. You were used to being more free moving than what a solid being was capable of and now here you were completely paralyzed.

Once again, the trip felt like it was taking an eternity. Except now it was worse, as every second was punctuated by the deep seated fear of what may become of you when the journey ended.

You also were forced to contend with the large man’s non-stop talking.

“I’m Auggie! I am so glad we met. I think it was probably fate. Like we were meant to find each other! I haven't met many slimes before. Only a couple times when swimming and I couldn’t see them well enough in the water to bring them back to date…”

You tuned Auggie out after a while. He just wouldn’t stop talking about how happy he was and how he had been in need of a new partner.

Finally you thawed out enough to talk, though you were still too stiff to move quickly.

“What is wrong with you!? We are NOT dating!!”

“Oh~ You have such a lovely voice! I am so happy to hear it. We are definitely dating now so I can hear you talk everyday~”

He hummed happily as he continued about his merry way, leaving your objection completely unacknowledged.

“Excuse me!? I just said we are NOT dating!!”

Though the words he spoke were… demented… he said them in the same happy go lucky jovial tone with which he had been speaking, “Don’t be silly, of course we are. I already was sure I would like you based on your home and with us both being sea critters, but after hearing your voice I simply can’t be without you~ I am so sorry if I implied you have a choice!”

After letting out a defeated whimper you went silent.

Auggie continued babbling about all the stuff the two of you would do together. As your destination approached he started running, he was just so eager to get you nice and settled in your brand new home.

You grunted in annoyance as you were bounced about in your glorified bucket.

“Oh. Heh heh. Sorry, I just got carried away.”

He slowed down to a brisk walk the rest of the way.

“We’re here!” He shouted in a chipper manner. For a totally psychotic kidnapper hellbent on forcing you to be in a relationship he sure was cheerful.

The barrel was placed down with a thud before he pulled you out. You were thawed to the point of being like a slurry and his warm hands felt rather nice.

Though you’d still rather be anywhere else.

You saw his home and were shocked, how could anyone live in something like this? It was a towering mass of junk. Large slabs of metal and wood cobbled together. It was actually kinda impressive how structurally sound it appeared to be despite the building materials used in its construction.

Auggie slung your chilled form over his shoulders without warning, eliciting a startled sound from you.

He opened the doors and set you down on a rugged chair that was clearly meant for beings around your size. Humans.

How many people had been forced to accept Auggie as their “boyfriend”. Were you going to die here?

You took stock of your surroundings, if you were ever going to escape you would need to know potential weapons, escape routes, and hiding places.

But honestly you didn’t even know where to start, the building was huge as it was meant for such a large being like Auggie. And it seemed like he had the same inclinations as mermen when it came to collecting objects of interest. Though instead of valuables like coins, gems, and shells Auggie seemed to be interested in… a different sort of collection.

Mounted on the wall as if some sort of poster was a set of doors that read “Tony’s Bar and Bistro”. Standing in the corner was a surfboard that looked as if a bite had been taken out of it with a lifebuoy around it. Other items strewn about the place included a slot machine, street signs, and a child’s tricycle.

There were random items in all sorts of places.

The ceiling was no exception. Hanging upside down from the ceiling, above even Auggie’s head, were several random and out of place items. Though the strangest of all was a… parking meter? You couldn’t be sure, you had only stealthily visited a human city a couple times.

None of this stuff helped you though, and it seemed the only way out was through the large front door.

Without any warning Auggie crouched down in front of you and stared intensely with a smug grin.

“I bet right now you are thinking of ways to leave aren’t cha? Without even giving our love a chance! Don’t worry I will take the burden of worrying about freedom away!”

He held his webbed pointer finger to your chest and muttered a complex incantation. You didn’t notice it before but he had a tattoo in the shape of a trident on his thigh, it glowed with a blue light as he uttered his spell and suddenly you had a matching tattoo marked on your chest.

It didn’t harm you at all, but his wicked grin coupled with the mark’s magical origins worried you.

“Wh-what’s that…?”

“Do you like it? It’s my brand! It means you’re alllll mine~”

You gave a face of disgust.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe it yet, some people are just slower learners. That’s okay.”

Your only reply was to glare at him silently.

“You’re never leaving me.”

You chose to just keep shooting him an angry look. It didn’t matter what he thought, you would slip away at the first opportunity. You were a slime, slippery and versatile, there were very few ways you could be contained long term. And he couldn’t just keep re-freezing you every single time you bolted.

“Haha, what? Don’t believe me dummy? Okay then… go ahead…”

With a smirk he got up and went to the door, holding it wide open for you.

“Go on, leave.”

He gestured you out the door and you didn’t hesitate, maybe he thought he could freeze you, or close the door, or push you back somehow, but were prepared for anything. You were positive that the smug expression was wiped from his face as you took on a taller and slimmer shape and zipped on by before he could react.

You got maybe all of 15ft. away from the shack before you were yanked back by some invisible force and landed on the ground.

“What th-”

You heard the heavy footsteps of your captor approach from behind.

“Have you caught on yet cutie? I told you, you’re allll mine~ My little mark on you ties you to me, you will never be able to go very far.”

For the first time that day you truly felt despair. The thought you could get away was the sole barrier that had prevented you from giving in to the filling of hopelessness that now threatened to consume you, but that was gone now. You were left with nothing but soul crushing helplessness… that and Auggie.

He scooped you up and carried you back to his house laying you in his large and rather decadent bed, a stark contrast to the ramshackle state of the rest of his home.

Auggie stood by the bed and positioned your legs to hang off of it, you guessed at what he was planning but were too caught up in your sense of doom and despair to react properly or mount even the slightest resistance.

“Awww, don’t be sad darlin’, this’ll be fun!” He chuckled with his normal sense of joy and lack of care for what anyone else wanted.

The leviathan stroked his cock to its staggering full length and lined it up between your legs.

You did not have an entrance there. Slimes simply absorbed plankton or other nutrient sources through their membranes and deposited what was indigestible in the same manner, and there was no conventional reproductive system. Slimes of your type would meet, partially join limbs, and create an egg.

But that sure didn’t stop Auggie from penetrating you anyway.

Luckily your slime body was extremely durable and felt little pain from such actions. He slammed into you right through your membrane, gripping your sides as he pulled you down to the base. His blue precum leaked into your body, leaving blue streaks where it dissolved.

He moved you back and forth like a fleshlight, like you were just some toy for his pleasure, not a living being with your own agency.

You were entirely limp in his hands, just a nice gooey warmth around his cock, feeling neither pleasure or pain from his ever increasing thrusts.

No, as you stared up at him, being moved back and forth on his cock, the only thing you felt was an uncomfortable pressure. And an overwhelming sense of violation.

Finally he pushed in as far as he could, his dick drilling all the way into your head as he unleashed his glowing blue cum into you. He let out a relaxed sigh as his cock lay inside you throbbing, still drooling more and more seed into you from his huge nuts.

Auggie finally pulled out of you, his semen had made your entire body swell considerably and it turned you from clear and transparent to a bright and faintly glowing blue as your body absorbed it like food.

“Oooh, you took my cock so well and became even prettier! It definitely means you’re meant for me! And it looks like my cum is good food for my gooey little darling too~ Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to feed you plenty EVERY. DAY.”

Your existence as a slime, what once granted you versatility and mobility. What you considered a blessed existence better than being a restrained solid, was now the cause of your loss of any freedom.

Because now that Auggie was in love with a mate that his cock couldn’t kill he was never going to let you go.

[thegnomelord]

#23 with male reader and soap. After a mission m!reader helps him clean himself in the shower maybe because soap got injured on the field or just really sore. And he washes off the blood/dust/dirt and helps dry him off and it turns into something kinda fluffy. I just wanna play with this man's stupid mohawk so bad.

Honestly me too, I just see that strip of hair and get the urge to tug on it, completely forgetting the man's fictional 😅 Ended up writing washing his hair and showering together because hyperfixation lol Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Washing their hair

CW: NSFW but no sex, non sexual nudity, M reader, showering together, hair washing, just fluffy fluffy fluff.

As much as you care about Soap, you've got to admit he's a bit of a dumbass, a reckless dumbass to boot. You tell him to be careful and what does he do? End up falling out of a second story window and rolling down a good 60 feet down a muddy hill while chasing after a target. You hear him swear the entire way down from where you're tucked away safely behind the sight of your sniper rifle.

By the time you get back to base Johnny feels as miserable as he looks, covered in so much mud you can't see his skin and his entire back wreathed in dull throbbing pain, not to mention the numerous cuts and scraps. And that's on top of Price chewing him out about safety and Ghost and Gaz teasing him the entire flight back to base.

"Not a word lad," He growls, giving you the stink eye. "Price already yapped me ear off." Soap turns to his heel in an attempt to head to the communal showers, biting his lip to stop himself from swearing out god, king, and country when his muscles scream at him.

"Wasn't going to." You stop him, one firm hand tugging on his bulletproof vest so you don't jostle him too much, though even that has drops of mud splashing on your clothes. "Come on, you can shower in my room."

He looks at you skeptically, but it doesn't take much to sway his mind when you offer him simple comforts; privacy, warm hands to wash away the days pains, a warmer body to remind him he's alive. He follows you without a word, neither one of you caring about the mud you track— tomorrow's problems.

"Foooock." The groan comes deep from his bones, perfectly encapsulating all he feels as you methodically unclip his gear, taking the world's weight off his shoulders and dropping it haphazardly on the bathroom's tiled floor. "Feel like a fockin' hog," He frowns.

"Look like you rolled in a pig sty." You helpfully supplement, receiving a few words in Gaelic which you don't even attempt to understand, though the humor in his tone is crystal clear even when you take hold of the bottom of his shirt; the mud and grime had gone through every layer of clothing, leaving not a single inch of skin clean.

He attempts to raise his arms to help you, only to suddenly yell out a "Oh ye fockin' cunt!" when pain flares from his shoulder down the entire length of his spine. You swear you hear his spine crack at least a dozen times by the time you pull his shirt off his mud wet skin.

"You sound like an old geezer." You chuckle to lighten the mood, dropping to your knees to untie his shoelaces and take off his boots, then the rest of his clothes.

"Says the bloke who's left knee tells the weather." He bites back, a bit of teeth on display as he grimaces, another few curses leaving his lips when he has to lower his arm. "Or tries to, yer got as much accuracy as the bloody reporters on the telly."

"Starting to complain like one too," You add, not at all surprised when Soap proceeds to brush his muddy hand across your face. "Of you fucker," Your words gain a childish little giggle from him, and he lets you guide him into the shower.

Your bathroom's one of the few that has a tub in it —a relic of past tenants before the army remodeled the base into an actual military installation— you had to bribe Price with a lot of high quality cigars to get it, but every penny was worth it. There's a tap as well as a detachable showerhead up top that Johnny eagerly uses, turning the water hot and just standing under the stream while you disrobe.

The clean water turns muddy the second it hits his skin, brown muck swirling around your feet as you step into the tub behind him. "How's that sweetheart?" You ask, taking the soap bottle and squirting a heavy amount onto your hands, not bothering with a sponge and instead using your fingers to wash away the dirt on his skin.

"Heaven." Johnny sighs, his muscles fluttering beneath your hands, mud and blood washing away to reveal deep blooming bruises across his back. "Shite, that hits the spot." He leans against you, the slow but firm pressure of your fingers massaging the sore muscles around the blotchy bruises making him groan. You lean in to place gentle kisses on the darkest bruises, "So good fer me bonnie," he hums, using his arms the best he can to at least wash the mud off his face.

You two float in a sort of mindless space where nothing outside the shower matters, the sound of water running and Soap's occasional groan filling your ears, all your focus on the way your hands rub him down; from shoulders to his back, down to his feet and then back up to his face when he turns around.

Once the water runs clear again you turn off the shower and start the tap so the tub fills with enough water to keep him warm, maneuvering him to sit in the tub while you step out to dry yourself off and put on boxers.

"Don't need ta be pampered like a show mutt," He grumbles, the hot water easing the soreness in his frame and making his exhaustion prominent, Johnny's eyelids starting to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake.

"I know, but you hair's a damn crow's nest." You snort, running your fingers through the mess on his head and showing the gunk stuck on your fingers, hell, you even pull a damn twig out.

His eyes widen, "Well fock me," Soap grimaces, gives a bone deep sigh as you settle behind him, sitting partially on the tub. Cupping water in your palms you rub your fingers down the length of his mohawk, loosening the dirt sticking to the strands until rivulets of watery mud run down his neck.

"Maybe later." You both chuckle, squirting the shampoo Soap always loves to smell on you in your hand and lathering your palms up before bringing them back to his hair. Soap mumbles something, leaning his head into your hands whenever you scratch a particularly itchy spot on his scalp.

His head tips back as much as his aching shoulders let him, his eyes settling on your face. I got it made, he thinks to himself, desperately trying to keep his eyelids open so he can see how you focus on even a simple task like washing his hair. Every brush of your fingers across his dirty strands fills his chest with lingering warmth, every scratch of your nails across his scalp making his eyes droop just a bit more.

Johnny doesn't even notice the slight sting when you occasionally tug on a knot, your touch making his mind buzz pleasantly like the low background static of a TV on late nights, and Soap doesn't realize he's dosing off.

You notice how he leans against your leg, leaning over to see his eyes closed and chest steadily rising and falling. You let him sleep for a bit while you finish up cleaning his hair and then use the detachable shower head to wash the bubbly shampoo off.

"What is'it?" He mumbles when you gently shake him awake, eyelids fluttering open and shut.

"Need you to get up Johnny." You hum and it's laughable how easily he follows your instructions, needing a bit of help to stand up when his back still aches like hell, a shiver racing down his spine as the cold air of your bathroom nips at his skin. "Fock, do'ah look like a snowman?" He grumbles at the cold.

You chuckle instead of saying anything, silencing any other complaints with sweet kisses on his lips as you towel him dry.

Soon after you two are huddled under the covers, his body draped over yours and using your chest as a pillow. Your fingers card through his slightly damp hair, the soft brown strands like feathers against your skin and your touch making him sigh and melt against you.

"Hey lad?" He suddenly says, voice a gentle whisper; like he's about to reveal a secret kept from the world — something only meant for you.

"Yeah Johnny?" You ask, a few stars reflecting in his blue eyes from your window.

Your heart melts at the soft and goody smile he gives you, "Love you." he says, leaning his head into your hand that's in his hair.

You smile and lean your head to kiss him, "Love you too," You mutter against his lips, and when you pull away he's already drifted off to sleep like a babe, soft breath tickling your skin and arms possessively wrapped around your waist like you'll disappear.

But you catch the way he smiles in his sleep.

[sky-scribbles]

Shepard holds a funeral for her clone.

The paperwork is almost harder than the ceremony. Turns out it’s tricky to register the death of someone whose birth - creation? Decanting-from-vat? - was never recorded to begin with. Then there’s some kind of question about whether the clone needs to be retroactively registered as a Council space citizen to have her death put on the official record, and if so, whether she counts as a member of the Systems Alliance or as an ‘undocumented alien’. Which is pretty fucking ironic, considering how utterly she’d have loathed having the word alien attached to her.

And once Shepard’s ground her teeth through a dozen calls and bludgeoned through the first layer of formwork - a death certificate still needs a name.

‘I have to put something,’ she says. She’s aware that her voice is ragged, and that Kaidan is watching her as he brews her fourth coffee of the evening with concern heavy on his face. She must look barely alive, up near midnight in a kitchen that was Anderson’s and still feels nothing like hers, hair falling forward, eyes shadowed grey. Datapads and empty mugs strewn around her. Fine. She’s felt barely alive ever since she woke up in a Cerberus lab.

‘You could choose one for her,’ Kaidan says gently. A lot of people speak to her gently, these days.

‘She’d hate that. A name makes you individual. She didn’t want to be an individual; she wanted to be me.’

The cofee machine whirrs softly, sounding louder than it is in the open space of the apartment. It still doesn’t feel right, all this space for one person. Someone could drown in this much space.

‘She didn’t want to be you, though. Not really.’ Kaidan pours out the coffee, his eyes only leaving her face for a moment. ‘What she wanted was to be the symbol. The face on the vids.’

He carries the mug over and sets it down beside her hand. Shepard grips it tight. The unfinished form blinks up at her from the datapad screen, and she looks away.

‘I’m not asking this because I don’t support you doing it, or to judge you for it, or anything,’ Kaidan says, after a moment. ‘I just want to understand. Can you tell me why this is so important to you? I mean - I get that you were trying to save her, and she... she let go. But...’

He hesitates, and in his silence Shepard hears, she tried to kill you. She tried to take you away from me, and everyone who cares about you, for a second time - because she was jealous.

Shepard sips her coffee. It hasn’t had time to cool down, and her lips smart. She ignores it. She thinks.

‘What you said about... being the symbol,’ she says at last. ‘I get why she wanted it, or thought she did. I understand feeling that Commander Shepard is someone bigger than you are.’

Kaidan breathes out slowly, and takes a seat beside her.

‘I get feeling that you’re so small, so nothing, next to everyone’s idea of what Commander Shepard is. And when I fall short -’ She sees him prepare to protest, and cuts across him. ‘I do, I do all the time - I feel like it’d be easier if I were the symbol. Not...’ She waves a hand, indicating all the sleep-starved mess of her. ‘This. I don’t even know when what would Shepard do and what will I do stopped feeling like the same question.’

She lets her hand fall back onto the table. Kaidan takes it and holds it tight.

‘And I think of her, the clone, waking up in some Cerberus med bay. Confused. And Brooks - Brooks was there, feeding her things to believe, manipulating her, turning her into the symbol she wanted. And I get it.’ Shepard bites her burned lip. ‘Because I woke up in a Cerberus lab. And I was scared. And they used me, and I let them.’

What she does not add is, and sometimes I don’t feel any more real than her. I don’t have any way to prove that I’m the woman who died in the wreckage of her broken ship. They wiped away that woman’s scars. There could be all kinds of tech in my head, feeding me a lie, telling me I’m real.

She swallows. Her throat feels raw. ‘And now the clone’s dead, and no one cares. We’re planning a fucking party. If I don’t push for a funeral, she’ll just go unregistered and undocumented and everyone will keep joking about how crazy this whole mess has been, how I fell through a fish tank and a mad clone tried to steal my life, and it’d be like she never existed at all. I don’t have to fill in these forms. I could take the easy road and let her be a ghost. But I can’t do that, Kaidan. I can’t.’

He looks at her, his eyes steady and patient and full of worry. Then he slips an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in, and Shepard leans into him, needing the surety of his touch, his warmth. Anything that tells her she’s something more than a force piloting a set of N7 armour.

Kaidan presses a slow kiss to the top of her head. He holds her until she stops feeling ready to howl. Then he sits with her and helps her fill in the forms, helps her choose a name for the clone, one that fits. When morning comes, he calls C-Sec and stays on the line until they agree to release the body to the Normandy, into the custody of the only person who could be considered the dead woman’s relative. 

He doesn’t ask Shepard any more questions as to why she needs this done.

In the end, they bury her in space, as Shepard would a crewmate. And no one has stories to tell of what she meant to them. They have nothing to say about the achievements of her angry little life. But they wear their dress blues, and speak softly, and they turn the lights down low.

Shepard doesn’t know if this is what her clone would have wanted. Maybe she never learned to want anything for herself at all. It doesn’t matter. A funeral doesn’t help her clone; it helps her.

They lift the casket into the airlock. EDI opens the outer door. And the casket leaps away into space in a blur of silver-grey, like the body within is hungry for the stars.

[indestinatus]

The silent art of gif making

The gif above has 32 layers plus 6 that aren't shown because this is part of a larger edit. I wanted to share it to give everyone a glimpse of the art of gif making and how long it usually takes for me to make something like this. This one took me about an hour and a half but only because I couldn't get the shade of blue right.

I use Adobe Photoshop 2021 and my computer doesn't have a large memory space (I don't know what to call it) so usually most of psds get deleted because I'm too lazy to get a hard drive. It doesn't really bother me that much because I like the art so when it's done, it's done. Off to somewhere else it goes.

Here are the layers:

Everything is neat and organized in folders because I like it that way. I prefer to edit it in timeline but others edit each frame. There's a layer not shown (Layer 4 is not visible) and it's the vector art. Here it is:

Now it is visible. I don't plan to make this a tutorial, but if you're interested I'd love to share a few tricks about it. I'm pretty new to the colors in gifmaking but the rest is simple to understand. Here, I just want to show how much work it takes to make it.

I opened Group 2 and here's the base gif. I already sharpened and sized it correctly but that's about it. Let's open the base coloring next.

Yay! Now it looks pretty! The edits are in Portuguese but it doesn't matter. There's a silent art of adding layers depending on how you want the gif to look but you get used to it. The order matters and you can add multiple layers of the same thing (for eg. multiple layers of levels or curves or exposure).

This was pretty much my first experiment with coloring so I don't know what I'm doing (this happens a lot with any art form but gifmaking exceeds in DIYing your way to the finished product) but I didn't want to mess up his hair, that's why the blue color is like that. Blue is easy to work with because there's little on the skin (different from red and yellow but that's color theory). I painted the layers like that and put it on screen, now let's correct how the rest looks.

I was stuck trying to get the right teal shade of blue so yes, those are 10 layers of selective color mostly on cyan blue. We fixed his hair (yay!) we could've probably fixed the blue on his neck too but I was lazy. This is close to what I wanted so let's roll with that.

BUT I wanted his freckles to show, so let's edit a little bit more. Now his hair is more vibrant and his skin has red tones, which accentuates the blues and his eyes (exactly what I wanted!). That lost Layer 2 was me trying to fix some shadows in the background but in the end, it didn't make such a difference.

This was part of an edit, so let's add the graphics and also edit them so they're the right shade of blue and the correct size. A few gradient maps and a dozen font tests later, it appears to be done! Here it is:

Please reblog gifsets on tumblr. We gifmakers really enjoy doing what we do (otherwise we wouldn't be here) but it takes so long, you wouldn't imagine. Tumblr is the main website used for gif making and honestly, we have nowhere to go but share our art here. This was only to show how long it takes but if you're new and want to get into the art of gif making, there are a lot of really cool resource blogs in here. And my ask box is always open! Sending gifmakers all my love.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Happy Couple 3

Part 1 Part 2

I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t! But here we are. I make no promise and am just following a whim.

Summary: Your father makes a deal to marry you to his top capo. (mob au)

Warnings: dark elements such a mob business and intimidation, spanking, threats. More to be added as they become relevant. You know what I write typically so you know what to expect.

Thank you all for the encouragement and I hope you enjoy.❤️

You choose a red satin halter dress and a pair of pointed Louboutins. The diamond studs gifted to you by your father on your sweet sixteen and a sparkly clutch finish the look, giving you the confidence to face Bucky. He’s always been slightly intimidating, all of your father’s men are scary given their line of work, but his charm adds another layer of fear.

Still, your father is your father. Bucky might have his blessing but he’s not familia yet. As you come down to the foyer, the click of your heels echoing in announcement of your descent, you find him admiring the portrait of you and your father propped up on a silver-trimmed table.

He shifts his feet to face you, his attention lingering on the frame for just a second. His blue eyes flit over and you see the twitch in the corners, the crow’s feet creasing handsomely. You get to the bottom and set your jaw.

“You said something about dinner.”

“Sweetheart,” he says breathlessly, “mmph, fuckin’ christ, look at you.”

“I hope you know I’m getting dessert. I always get dessert,” you lift your nose and strut past him.

“I love dessert,” he follows you, brushing by to open the door ahead of you. 

A waft of his cologne tickles your nose and you don’t look at him as you continue outside without pause. You sense his pursuit and move your hand behind you, batting him away with your clutch before he can clap your ass. You shoo him with the glittering bag and click your tongue.

“Ah!” You warn and spin on your heel, “you’re a traditional man, aren’t you?”

“Hm?” A dimple deepens in his cheek as he meets your glare with a placid grin.

“You said you’re a man of tradition. If we’re going to… be married,” you find the words hard to get out as they raise goosebumps along your skin, “then you’re going to have to slow down.”

“Slow down? What do ya mean, doll?” He reaches for you, gripping your hips as he steps close.

“This,” you touch his hand, circling two his thick fingers with all of yours, “save all that for the wedding night.”

He snorts, “you’re not serious? This isn’t 1950–”

“Oh, it isn’t? Right, then whatever my father told you is null and void, right? It’s the twenty-first century, a woman can make her own decisions.”

“Now, don’t you play with me,” he wiggles his hand free of your grasp, “we both know you’re not a virgin. Not flaunting that ass like you do.”

“Excuse me,” you gasp and put your hand to your chest, “are you questioning my virtue?”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I am?” You muse, “well, I hear there are lots of other fish in the sea. Mob wives are a dime a dozen.”

“But you aren’t, sweetheart,” he grabs you by the waist, firmly, pulling you towards him. His heat encases you as you stumble in your steep heels and push your hand and clutch to his chest, “fine, let’s be old fashioned. I’ll settle for a kiss.”

“We haven’t even gone to dinner yet.”

“You know, I don’t usually ask,” his voice turns rigid.

“Alright, fine,” you flutter your lashes as your eyes roll back, “a kiss.”

You pucker your lips and lean in. He does the same and you swivel your neck suddenly so his lips catch your cheek. You giggle and nudge him away, slipping free of him. He catches your wrist and pulls you back so stagger clumsily in your heels.

“That’s not what I asked for, sweetheart.”

“A kiss. You got a kiss.”

“Don’t,” he raises a finger as he grits his teeth, “I got a feeling your daddy didn’t give you enough spankings.”

“And yours didn’t give you enough hugs, huh?”

“Don’t think I won’t bend you over right here.”

“You wouldn’t dare–” You scoff and roll your eyes again.

Suddenly you’re spun around, off-balance in your stilettos. He twists your arm up behind you and grabs your neck with his other hand. You whimper as you stand on your toes, straining as the pressure aches in your shoulder. He pushes on you as you resist, clenching your jaw as you bite down on your anger.

“What the fuck are you–”

“You keep running that mouth,” he shoves so hard you can’t resist. You bend forward so you don’t topple completely. He pinches your neck as he lets go of your arm and trails his hand down your spine. “And I’m gonna keep teaching you lessons.”

He spreads his hand across your ass and you squirm. His fingertips reach the short hem of the dress and he pulls back, a rush of air before his palm lands. The impact stings and radiates down your thighs. You whine and reach back, trying to shield his next slap. He swats you away and gropes you meanly.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Let me go! How dare you?! My father–”

“Daddy knows the deal he made. He doesn’t need the details but I’ll be more than happy to tell him everything.”

“Get off! Now! You fucking old–”

He raises his hand and spanks you again. You yelp and teeter in your shoes, his nails digging into the sides of your neck.

“Ow, you fucker–”

“Clean up the mouth before I do,” he snarls as he kneads your ass, “old as I am, I’ll still snap you in two, doll.”

“You’re fucked–”

“Baby, this ain’t a negotiation, let’s get that straight because there’s no way you’re winning. So here’s what happens. I’m gonna give you one last tap, as a warning, and you’re gonna stand up, give me a kiss, and we’re going to have a nice dinner. You get your dessert and I get to watch you eat it. How’s that?”

You moan as his grip on your neck sends a pang up your skull and you touch his hand lightly, “alright, you’re hurting me.”

“I told you, I don’t wanna hurt you but I never said I would,” he slaps your ass again, as promised, and lets you go. 

His touch glosses down your arm as you stand and rub your neck. He pulls on your elbow until you turn to him and he presents his lips in an expectant pucker. You sigh and square your shoulders. You inch closer and bring your hands up to cradle his square jaw. You close your eyes and lean in until your mouth is on his.

He purrs as his hand settles on your hips and he kisses you back. His tongue flicks across your lips before you draw away, your cheeks hot and tingly. You arch your brow and look away, trying to appear frustrated rather than flustered.

“Can we go,” you sneer, “I’m hungry.”

[bludermaus]

For a romance added so late in the game dev cycle, The Emperor is a great romance!

Now hear me out! I know everyone here loves the romances and me too! Lae'zel, Karlach, Wyll, Gale, Astarion, Shadowheart, everyone is great and fantastic BUT... slightly rushed IMO?

When I first played the game I almost didn't romance anybody because the game expects you to start it in Act 1 and like.... I don't know about you folks but I don't romance character in games just to check it out, I need some attachment to them, some emotional investment first, and asking me to do that in Act 1 - which is very early in the grand scheme of things - was a bit too soon for me.

So here I am, chastised by Withers for not romancing anybody, literally calling me maidenless, we finish Act 2 and all that and then we meet The Emperor. Okay, dude was actually a squid, that's a cooler reveal than I thought, let's be cordial and carry on following mission squiontrol.

The thing is... there was already some attachment to The Emperor by that point. Yes, we did only talk to him through the Dream Guardian illusion but... you've been with him for dozens and dozens of hours in a way, then you have some conversations with him. He opens up with you, you have the chance to be nice to him, maybe hold his hand in a conforting manner, give him a hug when he's the Dream Guardian shape.... there's a very real and amazing emotional buildup to the romance scene.

Yes, it is open to those that have been antagonistic to him (which I think is stupid, the romance scene shouldn't exist if you've been a dick to him, not just stab him in the creche) but like... if you've been nice to him, hugged him, listened to his venting and sadness about Stelmane's death (regardless of their true relationship, he is legit sad about her passing), held his hand, comforted him... like, it is a very very nice romance.

Also add to the fact that you can just show him that you like him for what and who he is, tentacles included. If you ask him to be the Dream Guardian during the romance scene he's way more forward and active with the kissing and all that... but if he is himself, the squiddie, he is... kinda shy? He's allowing you to go first and lead on, almost as if he wants to enjoy this, he misses someone to connect with but isn't used to doing that as himself, there always had to be a layer of deceit and protection for himself before... but now with you he can be himself.

And I think that's beautiful for such a late-included romance.

As much as I'd love Larian to include more Emperor content, I'm quite happy with what we have........ although maybe remove the "I will erase their memory of our night together" line from the game, it wasn't there before and it's kinda weird. It feells like a cop-out for not wanting to record Lae'zel roasting you for Fornicating With A Mind Flayer™️ and I'd have loved to have seen her do that!

[samstree]

Jaskier hates sweet things, and Geralt loves them. It’s why they work well together.

“It’s why we work well together!” Jaskier exclaims, pushing his dessert plate towards Geralt. He’s only taken one spoonful of the cherry pie, made a face and declared it too sweet for his taste. “I hate sweets, and you love them—don’t try to deny me, dear. I’ve seen the way you look at the pastry stands when no one is watching.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s cherry pie is long gone, and his mouth waters at the sight of Jaskier’s piece. “It’s yours. You paid for it.”

“Actually, my performance paid for both of our dinners.” Jaskier winks. “But as you can see, it’s become a burden for me, as I cannot stand anything with so much as a layer of frosting.”

Geralt is not, and that is more than enough. “I don’t need a second dessert, Jask,” he says. “Witchers can live on very little food.”

“But you’d be doing me a favor.” Jaskier bats his eyelashes. “Please? My gorgeous witcher, my brave champion, my most generous lover—”

“Fine,” Geralt interrupts, taking up his spoon. “Don’t finish the thought.”

Jaskier giggles, sitting back to watch Geralt eat. “It’s a saying even. They say a couple only works if one likes the food the other hates. This way, if it comes up on the dinner table, one can finish it for the other.”

It’s a cheeky saying, one that is definitely just been invented by Jaskier himself.

The pie is good though. The cherries add a hint of tartness to the cream frosting. Geralt chews slowly, letting the sweetness pop in his mouth. He closes his eyes with the last bite, and only opens them slowly afterward.

“Is it good?”

Jaskier watches Geralt with a quiet smile, his hand reaching forward on the table, his palm facing up. Geralt takes it and squeezes gently.

“It’s…sweet,” he answers, belly full and content.

It seems to satisfy Jaskier enough to press a tiny kiss on Geralt’s scarred knuckles.

“See?” Jaskier preens. “We work well together.”

☆ 

For some reason, Jaskier keeps buying sweets for himself.

The two lemon cakes are freshly baked, wrapped in paper and drizzled with honey, the warm aroma wafting through the busy marketplace. It reminds Geralt of a snowy day at Kaer Morhen, with the fireplace burning bright.

Jaskier holds them to his nose and takes a sniff, only to shove them into Geralt’s hands.

“Too sweet,” Jaskier says, pouting. “Finish them for me?”

Geralt sighs. “You can just not buy them.”

“Thought I wanted one, and now I don’t.” Jaskier shrugs. “Anyway, it’s good you’re here, so you can take care of them for me, dear. Meet me later?”

With that, Jaskier disappears into the crowd, leaving Geralt with the two cakes. They do look good, so he takes a bite, and then another.

He wouldn’t normally spend coin on luxuries such as fancy cakes, and whatever food he does purchase would be rationed carefully. Being on the road with a human calls for caution, as Jaskier is not nearly as sturdy as a witcher when it comes to on-and-off meals. Geralt always saves extra for him.

Which makes sweets the only indulgence he has. It’s okay. Jaskier hates sweet things so much he’d never eat them anyway.

The honey is sticky on Geralt’s fingers. He makes sure to lick the last of it clean.

☆   

Lettenhove bustles with the laughter of children. Every year they come back, there seem to be a dozen more of them. The extended family welcomes them with warm hugs, with Jaskier’s parents giving the tightest one.

Jaskier looks exhausted from traveling, but as soon as his nieces and nephews hug him on the leg, he seems to melt into a puddle all over again. The children drag him off to play games in the courtyard, and he can never say no to that.

Geralt can only shake his head and head straight to the kitchen. Jaskier skipped lunch to get here sooner, and the kids will soon run him ragged, so naturally, Geralt needs to fetch him something solid for later.

He encounters more cousins and uncles on the way, who all pat him on the back warmly. It’s still unreal to think the Pankratzes have just accepted Geralt as a member of the family. Even years later, it still takes a moment to wrap his head around the fact.

The smell of freshly baked biscuits comes from the kitchen, rich with caramel and butter.

“Oh, Geralt!” Mira, Jaskier’s older sister exclaims when she finds him in the doorway, her eyes as blue as Jaskier’s, full of a big smile. “How was your travel? Good weather, I hope?”

“Good,” Geralt nods. “The road was easy. Jaskier was missing you, so we didn’t rest today.”

“Well, we missed him too, and you, of course.” Mira always manages to soften Geralt, putting him at ease. “You both must be so hungry. All that witchering must be hard, you look much thinner, Geralt. I’m sure it’s the same with Julian. It’s good timing! The biscuits are just done. I made his favorite, made it extra sweet with caramel just for our Julian.”

Geralt blinks, confused. “For who?”

“Who else has the biggest sweet tooth in Lettenhove? Of course it’s my baby brother, your Jaskier.” Mira turns to put the biscuits into a plate, amused by fond memories. “He used to sneak into the kitchen at night just for the candied fruits we keep for the holidays. It’s embarrassing how long he kept it up, even right before we sent him off to university.”

In the distance, Geralt can hear Jaskier’s voice, playing with the children and laughing loudly.

Geralt takes the plate from Mira, and stares for a moment.

☆  

The biscuits, as it turns out, are decimated instantly by the children.

Only crumbs are left on the plate by the time Jaskier walks up behind the kids, his cheeks flushed and hair a mess.

“How’s the family treating you, dear?” Jaskier asks, equal parts amused and sympathetic. “Not overwhelmed by them? I have to apologize if you are. The Pankcratzes are an overwhelming people. It just can’t be helped, as you see.” He spread his arms dramatically, gesturing to the kids running around behind him, with biscuit crumbs on their chins. “But we do try to overwhelm you with love!”

“Yes,” Geralt muses quietly, a familiar mushy feeling spreading through his chest. “That you do, Jaskier.”

Geralt isn’t sure what expression he’s making, but it must be worrying enough. Jaskier steps closer with a serious face.

“What is it?” A frown creeps up on Jaskier’s brow. “Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” Geralt holds the empty plate tightly, shaking his head. “Mira knew this would happen and saved a few biscuits in the kitchen. They are made extra sweet, with caramel.”

Something flickers in Jaskier’s eyes. It’s subtle, barely there, a flash of excitement that appears out of instinct but is suppressed quickly.

It’s something Geralt should have seen long ago.

Jaskier, he realizes, is a sweet tooth.

Has been this whole time.

“It sounds lovely.” Jaskier nudges Geralt on the elbow. “Do you want to go and try it? Go then! Mira must be dying to feed you after seeing you’ve gotten thin, and—oh, Geralt, what are you doing?”

Within a heartbeat, Geralt has taken Jaskier into his arm, kissing him passionately. It’s awkward with him still holding the plate, and Jaskier’s youngest niece, Issy, makes a disgusted noise, but Geralt can’t find it in his heart to care.

He kisses Jaskier until the bard has to pull away with a flustered smile, his hands holding onto Geralt’s shoulder for balance. Jaskier’s cheeks have gone wonderfully red, his eyes shining with love.

“What, um,” Jaskier clears his throat. “What was that for? Not that I’d ever complain.”

Geralt stares into those cornflower blue eyes he’s known for years, and finds a new way to fall in love all over again. “I got a little…” he answers, exhaling deeply, “overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “In a good way?”

“Very.” Geralt kisses Jaskier’s nose one last time before letting him go. “Do you want to come with me? Try Mira’s biscuits. Just this once. Maybe you’ll like it.”

“But I don’t—”

“Please?” Geralt looks at Jaskier pleadingly. He knows Jaskier won’t say no to that look. “For me?”

Jaskier beams, his grin spreading impossibly wide, looking stupidly happy.

“Alright,” Jaskier agrees chirpily, taking Geralt’s arm. “You know I’d do anything for you, but you are being unreasonably amiable today. What’s gotten into you?”

Geralt lets Jaskier wraps himself around his side as they return to the kitchen, the rich scent of caramel filling his lungs once again. It seeps into his core, indistinguishable from the ever-growing affection he feels for Jaskier.

“Just,” Geralt says finally, voice hushed like it’s a secret, “I find you sweet, is all. The sweetest.”

Luckily, Geralt loves sweet things.

[xiaq]

Hi! I saw your snow photos and thought of how soon I'll probably move from tx to somewhere cold and snowy. I was hoping you had some advice.

Hmm. Well, lets see.

Make sure you have an "emergency" kit in your car––water, first aid, some protein bars, a blanket. I've heard scary stories about folks getting stranded/stuck/sliding into a ditch on mountain roads due to ice or snow and then having a long wait for emergency services. Also, always bring a jacket/hat/gloves with you when you're driving somewhere and it's cold, even if it's just to run straight into a store. Many unplanned events could occur that require you to be out and about in the elements.

Get an ice-scraper/snow brush if you have a car and a snow shovel for your house/walk/driveway.

Get a snow suit. They are so dang convenient. I don't ski or snowboard but if it's below freezing (even if it's not snowing!) I'm pulling that thing on over my PJs every morning to take the dog for a walk. Do I look silly? Yes. Am I toasty and saved like 5 minutes putting on a dozen layers. Also yes.

Get a space heater. We keep the heat in our house at 60 and just run a space heater occasionally in our offices during the day/bedroom at night and it saves us a ton of money on heating bills. Also, blinds/curtains up during the sunniest parts of the day and down as soon as the sun starts to set. Makes a big difference in ambient temperature with no costs associated.

WOOL SOCKS. If I wasn't lazy I'd move this to the top of the list. Wool socks will keep your feet warm even if they get wet. Wool socks are magical. As are wool base layers in general.

Also get a solid pair of snow/waterproof hiking boots. And depending on conditions and if you do much walking outside, you'll probably want to get a pair of spikes as well (they stretch on over the bottoms of your normal boots and will save you from busting your ass on icy roads/trails).

If you're in a cold place with higher altitude, I highly recommend a humidifier. We have one in the bedroom that runs all day/night and one in my office because I'm a delicate flower. It makes it easier for me to breathe and my skin is noticeably less dry.

Oh, this may be silly but I didn't even know to get a balaclava for the first several months I lived in a cold place and my face was just freezing all the time when I'd go for walks. Also, even if you're not skiiing, get some snow goggles if you're planning to hike in snowstorms. Being able to see is nice.

If it's sub-0 temps, be careful with your eyelashes/brows. Your eyelashes especially with freeze, and if you rub your eyes you'll break them. I learned this the hard way. Get inside and let them thaw out before touching them.

Ok, I'm sure there are more. Anyone want to add things I've missed?

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - prologue

In honour of the holy day that is Frankie Friday, I wanted to share the prologue, and a peek, at something that's been stewing in my head for a while now as the end of A Baker's Dozen started drawing near.

Below the cut is the prologue of Big Sky Country, Cowboy!Frankie x OFC story that I've started working on. I haven't got much more than the chapter outline and half a chapter, it'll be a while before I start posting chapters. But I wrote the prologue and then @i-own-loki made the beautiful banner and I really wanted to share!

I hope you enjoy it!

The Greyhound bus rumbles away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sinks behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows will touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’s left on a whim, she sighs and lets her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed. 

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks. 

Here, the open prairie gives speed to the cold wind hurtling down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closes her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaling deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’ll pick up and let her in. 

He presses his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom adds another layer of noise to the assault on his ears. 

He drops his hand. 

Waits. 

Glances down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he drops his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seem to merge into one solid wall. He knows he’s looking west, can feel it in his bones, in the way his feet want to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home. 

He presses his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grating his skin. He has a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and head west again. 

But she’s here. If he wants to make this work, he needs to be here.

[evangelifloss]

Please tell me about the great emu war of 1932 :3

"Haha Australia lost a war to emus twice"

NO BUT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!

Here's why:

First, I don't believe foreigners know how BIG emus are, and how much of their stocky main body is just layers and layers of feathers

This is Peck. He doesn't actually Peck but he LOVES the LADIES and for reference, that's me as he's uh... trying to woo me. I'm 4'11 / 149cm tall and in that photo he's not standing at full height either because he's preparing to get lower and ahem, grind. He is also a juvenile.

Emus are typically 5.7 feet/1.75 meters tall, but they have been recorded to get up to 6.2 feet/1.9 meters.

So imagine you've got this big ass dinosaur bird with the most t-rex looking feet perfectly designed for running. Yeeting. Skeeting. Killing you maybe. And now take into account these flightless fucks can run up to 62 Kilometers per hour. THATS 39 MILES PER HOUR TOP SPEED.

Now add 20,000 emus.

So 20,000 emus against poverty-stricken farmers with failing crops, farmers WHO WERE MOSTLY WW1 VETERANS BY THE WAY. Yeah nah.

Here's a visual to help y'all understand how insanely large emu groups get.

Onto why the hell were there so many emus on the farmlands (even tho... yknow... the emus and the local indigenous were there first but we won't get into that.)

Basically a big drought made the horde of emus move away from their usual dwindling territory, onto the sprawling Australian "farm lands" and remember I mentioned their feet before? BIG STOMPY. Whatever crops that had somehow managed to survive the severely vitamin-deficient soil and grow, did not in fact, survive the dinosaur feet as the emus strolled through, pecking and foraging the ground along the way.

The plight of the veteran farmers didn't fall on deaf ears, but the Australian government severely underestimated the power of 20,000 emus by a LONG shot. Plus they weren't all that interested either, until at least it was reported that the emus were destroying the Rabbit Proof Fence. What legends.

For the first "war" the government sent 3 men.

Yep. You heard me. Three guys. Major Meredith, Sargeant McMurray and a soldier by the name of O'Halloran.

They had one truck with a machine gun, and probably other guns, but between them roughly 10,000 rounds of ammunition.

So off they went. To wage war against the progressive emus breaking the symbol of "White Australia" AKA the Fence. Oh and also I guess the starving vets.

This is it. This is what they had.

Locals from all around joined in the fight and tried to herd the roaming groups of emus into the murder range but the emus had a tactic. One that us Aussies use at bush doofs when you hear police sirens- and that is to SCATTER.

They only killed "a dozen birds" from a group estimated to be around 1000. It didn't help that the machine gun jammed during this organised ambush.

And by then, the Emus clicked onto what was happening. They split up into smaller groups, observed to be led by the largest sized male who kept an eye out for the enemy. Never again did they risk coming together as seen before.

The war was lost. Only a few more attempts were made that had little success and Ornithologist Dom Serventy concisely summarised the whole operation.

I want to remind you all that this is a recorded statement, kept on file in legal military documentation

"The Emu command had evidently ordered guerrilla tactics, and its unwieldy army soon split up into innumerable small units that made use of the military equipment uneconomic. A crestfallen field force therefore withdrew from the combat area after about a month."

Let's move onto Emu War Part Two: Unsuccessful Boogaloo

Heads up by the way, TW below.

Emus were still, y'know, Emu-ing about and the drought didn't let up either. People were still dying of starvation, becoming homeless and committing suicide. It took the Premier of Western Australia, and a Base Commander in the military penning letters and using media pressure to finally convince the government to give it another go.

Major Meridith returns to the War and having learnt from practically everyone's past assumptions of the highly intelligent sonic-speed bird, brought success. And by that I mean, more success than the previous war.

Ultimately only 5% of the 20k Emu Army were ever killed, and even that is debated since it is more than likely they inflated numbers of kills to lessen the damage of being completely inferior to the superb qualities of the Emu.

A Federal parliamentarian (like a senator) when asked about whether there should be a medal made for the conflict, he replied with:

"Any medals should go to the emus who had won every round so far."

And of course in true Aussie fashion, the Defence Minister who supported and approved for the Emu War 1 and 2, was given the title by the Australian public, and international conservationists of ‘Minister for the Emu War’.

Ouch, but also, Not Every Problem Has To Be Solved With Guns.

Ironically what worked far better was the implementation of fences to keep the Emus OUT and unfortunately, a bounty system that saw many locals and professional hunters alike have FAR more success than an entire military operation. 57,000 bounties were claimed in a six month period after it being introduced in 1934.

Thus concludes the Great Emu War of 1932.

If you're asking why I know this, I studied it when I was 16, and made an entire poster to which I gave it to my Japanese Teacher. For context: I was living in Japan. Going to a Japanese School. And teaching my poor English teacher about this Emu War that he only believed once he looked it up. As a parting gift I gave him a poster. Shout out to Kawamura-Sensei you tried so hard not to laugh at the poster but I won that war.

Here it is. All the quotes on there are real too!

[northern-passage]

Help I’m desperate for Lea and I apologize for the link spam this morning AAAAAAA. I’m like foaming at the mouth I love Lea so much and the way they interact with the hunter (playing a stoic, altruistic, shy, conflict-avoidant, and secretly soft hunter) makes me scream

I um… would love to know Lea’s POV or thoughts about the Duncan conflict if the hunter let him rip off their hood and hesitates before bowing to Duncan to try and keep Lea safe behind them??

Sorry if that’s a lot to ask and obviously no pressure I just,,, thought I’d peek in and get it off my chest to send in an ask

for you, and the dozens of other people that have asked me for this scene from Lea's pov over the years~

A hush falls over the parlor, a loud ringing in Lea's ears at the sudden silence.

An older man stands, wearing posh, silver armor, emblazoned with the king's swooping hawk, layered over a dark red tunic and embellished with silver studs and gold feathers - there is only one person this man can be. He has a group of soldiers with him, wearing the same silver and red, and those ugly molded masks.

"Lord Duncan," Merry says, her hands on her hips as she takes a few steps forward, her voice the only sound to break the silence.

Lea quickly stands from the table, and the hunter does the same, glancing back at Lea for a moment before eyeing the creeping soldiers as they move through the tables and across the parlor.

"What a wonderful surprise to have you here, Duncan-" Merry starts, but she's cut off by a sharp look.

"Lord Duncan," he says, his voice hard.

Merry's face twitches.

Duncan turns to Lea and the hunter expectantly then.

Lea does their best to keep their face wholly neutral, their jaw set as they stare right back at Duncan. The hunter does much of the same, both standing rigid in front of the warden as he glances between them. His hand is on his sword, and Lea doesn't miss the way his fingers flex around the hilt, the slight curling of his lip as he stares on in distaste.

Lea knows he expects a bow, but that simply isn't how things are done here in the north. And Lea is happy to remind Duncan of that fact, especially after what they've heard about the man today.

Neither Lea nor the hunter move.

"Is there a reason you've brought your little dogs into my establishment, Warden?" Merry cuts in then.

"I heard we had visitors. Very rude of you to keep them from me," Lord Duncan says slowly, turning away from Lea to slowly appraise their partner. "And a hunter, no less."

Lord Duncan suddenly steps towards them, reaching for their hood, and Lea bites hard on the inside of their cheek, resisting the urge to grab his wrist and shove him back.

The hunter quickly steps away, wordlessly dodging his outstretched hand, and Lea can just see the flash of their eyes beneath their hood, glaring out of the shadows at Duncan.

He clicks his tongue, disappointed as he pulls his hand back.

"No need to be shy," he muses.

Lea feels their expression flicker, but thankfully Duncan is too focused on the hunter to notice. Lea runs a hand over their hair, clearing their throat and stepping between them, forcing Duncan's attention as well as forcing him back a few feet.

"Introductions?" Lea prompts, tilting their head towards the warden.

"My name is Lea Chen. This is Hunter Karstark. We only just arrived early this morning, and unfortunately had a few things to handle in the city. A shame we haven't crossed paths earlier. I've heard many good things," Lea continues, forcing a warm smile for Lord Duncan.

There's a bitter taste in their mouth.

"The market here is impressive - the town seems to have completely recovered under your leadership," Lea adds, nodding at him. "It's admirable." Lea's voice is tight, but their mask doesn't slip, even as Duncan's demeanor shifts slightly, a slight upward curve of his lips.

He glances between Lea and the hunter, and then looks to Merry.

"How about a room, Captain? To talk to our guests, in private," he says, sticking his nose up at the rest of the parlor.

Lea shakes their head, glancing over at Merry. They don't want to be in a room alone with this man.

But Merry doesn't notice, just waving everyone over to the stairs. The clank of armor punctuates each step, and Lea glances over at the hunter, a shared unease rising between them. Lea looks back at the parlor one last time before climbing up the stairs, their hand instinctively going to their hip, though they're unarmed right now.

Probably for the best.

Merry leads the group across the mezzanine at the top of the stairs and down the hallway, towards a back room tucked along the far wall of the tavern. She raises her hand and wraps her knuckles once, twice, three times, and when no response comes she digs a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocks the door, throwing it open and stepping inside.

Lea lets the hunter step in first, giving them a brief reprieve from the soldiers right on their heels.

Lea follows after them and Merry, joining them on one side of the room, while Duncan and his soldiers line up on the other. Lea glares over at the soldiers and their silver masks, eyeing the swords strapped to their belts.

Lea doesn't like this, a slight tremble in their hands as their adrenaline spikes, the last soldier stepping in and shutting the door with a soft click.

Duncan lets everyone stand in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, and Lea can't help but notice how he relishes it, picking at some nonexistent dust on his armor while the hunter squirms beside them. Lea glances over at them, but they're hiding in their hood, unable to see them in their peripheral.

"You can leave us," Duncan says then, stepping aside so Merry can reach the door. She gives him a long, hard look.

"No. I think I'd rather stay," she says.

"I wasn't asking," Duncan snaps back, curling his lip.

Lea tenses, and Merry remains unmoving, her hands on her hips. The hunter sinks farther back in their hood.

Duncan sighs, glancing to one of his soldiers and waving his hand. They respond immediately, striding across the room and grabbing Merry by her elbow, hauling her forward.

Merry rips her arm from the soldier's grip, but they're undeterred, grabbing her again and twisting her arm this time, forcing her to turn around and face Duncan.

"Don't fucking touch me," Merry snarls, once again jerking free, "I'm fucking going!"

Lea takes a step forward, though they're not sure what it is exactly they're planning on doing, here. The soldiers don't notice, too occupied with glaring at the hunter or leering at Merry, but Duncan shoots them a curious look, raising an eyebrow, and Lea glares back at him, which just makes him smile.

Merry steps away from the soldier then, holding her hands up, and if looks could kill, Duncan would drop dead in that moment. Instead, his smile just widens, watching as Merry steps out the door, slamming it closed behind her.

An awkward silence passes before Duncan speaks again, nothing but the sound of grinding metal as the soldiers shift on their feet.

"So. Tell me, Handler Chen, what brings you and your hunter to my city?" he says, crossing his arms and eyeing them both across the room.

"We are just passing through, my lord," Lea says simply, and the title almost makes Lea gag.

"And your destination?" he prompts.

"The mountains, near Skala. We received some reports of a weak spot in the Vel. A wraith lurking around," Lea says. They do their best not to look to the hunter, coming up with the lie on the spot, but Lea knows they're smart enough to play along.

"Is that right?" Duncan muses, turning to the hunter then. "Do you have anything to say about that?" he asks.

Lea tenses again, Duncan's eyes flashing as he glances at them before looking back to the hunter expectantly.

The hunter just shrugs. Lea quickly wipes at their mouth in an attempt to hide their smirk.

Duncan lets out a long sigh.

"I see," he says.

"It's unfortunate Captain Harlowe got to you first," he starts. "You should be more careful about the company you keep." He adjusts the collar of his tunic. "A pirate? A criminal - is that the kind of people the Order is doing business with these days?"

Lea shifts, crossing their arms, but they keep their mouth shut, refusing to fall for the bait. They'll give Merry a piece of their mind later. Right now, Lea and the captain are a united front, and they're not going to turn on her for Duncan.

The hunter glances at them, but they remain silent, even as Duncan's glare hardens. He clicks his tongue again at the lack of response, irritation flashing across his face.

"So, from what I understand, you've had quite the day, today," he says then, holding his hands behind his back. "I heard you are quite the gossip. Asking a lot of questions, none of which I believe had anything to do with wraiths, or the Vel," he says, his gaze sliding from between Lea and the hunter, smiling coolly.

He moves farther into the room then, clearing his throat before he stops right in front of them. "Make no mistake. I allowed you to do the things you did. Don't let Captain Harlowe fool you. I am the final authority here, not her." His cold eyes flick between the two. "My hospitality is not unconditional."

"Of course, my lord," Lea says then, uncrossing their arms and giving Duncan a mirthless smile.

Lea isn't playing this game anymore. It's clear he knows that they're lying - there's no point in playing pretend. If Lea is going to be honest about anything, it will be about their feelings towards the man.

Feelings of disgust and contempt.

"I'm glad we understand each other," Duncan says then, though he turns to the hunter as he says it, making Lea's hands twitch at their sides.

"Now. Unfortunately, I need you out of my city. The two of you, the way you're running around, you're scaring my people," he says, still looking at the hunter.

Lea can't help themself, and they scoff, shaking their head at Duncan.

Duncan quickly turns to them, wrinkling his nose. "What's funny, Handler Chen?"

The soldiers shift around the room, their hands on their swords, and Lea's eyes flash, stepping close to the hunter as they leer at Duncan.

"These aren't your people, Lord Duncan," Lea says, a bite in their voice. "Don't insult us by pretending otherwise."

Duncan considers Lea for a painfully long moment. Then he takes a few steps back, closing rank with his soldiers. "I want you gone by noon tomorrow. You two, and the captain. If you are still in this city tomorrow afternoon, you will receive no mercy from me," he growls, his voice deadly. He moves towards the door now, but doesn't reach for the doorknob – instead he bangs his fist against the door twice. It opens, and two more soldiers step in.

At the sight of their flashy armor, the hunter shifts instinctively in front of Lea, their hand reaching for their hunter's knife.

Lea takes a deep breath, their own hands hovering in front of them, reaching half-way for the hunter's cloak - but they stop short, pulling their hand back and letting it curl into a fist at their side. Lea knows what comes next in situations like this, with men like Duncan. It's better not to show him what will hurt. Grabbing the hunter would give Duncan too many ideas.

"I wouldn't," Duncan is saying, smiling at the hunter. They reluctantly drop their hand, leaving their knife in its sheath.

"Take off your hood," he says suddenly, as the door closes again behind him.

Lea feels their lip curl, but the hunter obeys, reaching up and pulling their hood off.

There's no reason for this - except for Duncan to make himself feel good. In another place, in another time, Lea would run a man like Duncan through with their sword. That would make them feel good.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Duncan smiles, taking a step towards the hunter. He reaches down and pulls a knife from his belt, twirling it for a moment in his hand, watching the light glint off the blade. The hunter tenses in front of Lea, but holds their ground as he comes around the bed. The soldiers follow him, three of them coming towards them, the other two going towards Lea.

"This isn't necessary," Lea snarls, and they know immediately they slipped up with how pleased Duncan is with that outburst, giving him exactly what he wanted, his eyes widening as he glances between Lea and the hunter. One of the soldiers draws their sword, pressing the blade against Lea's back, and they scowl, swallowing loudly as the other soldiers converge around the hunter.

"Now," Lord Duncan says as he casually flips the knife in his hand, "Bow."

Lea doesn't move, but the hunter hesitates, glancing back at them, their gold eyes flashing.

They turn back to Duncan, and Lea can just watch as they slowly, slowly begin to bow.

Lea says their name, takes a step towards them, but the sword in their back bites through their shirt, and Lea stops. But when the soldiers hovering around the hunter shove them down to their knees, Lea tries again, only to be restrained, grimacing at that blade pricking the small of their back, a hot trickle of blood making them recoil.

They say their name again, struggling in vain.

The hunter doesn't look back at them this time, keeping their gaze on Lord Duncan.

"All the way down," he says.

"Stop it!" Lea shouts, but it falls on deaf ears as the soldiers manhandle the hunter, grabbing their neck and slamming their face against the floor. They pin their arms behind them, and one of the soldiers presses their knee against their back, trapping them beneath their weight.

Lea thrashes violently, jerking in the soldiers' grasp as that sword cuts at them again.

The hunter blinks up at them, their eyes wide, and Lea bares their teeth at Duncan as he moves in front of them.

Duncan tilts his head, glancing back at the hunter on the floor. He smirks at the twisted expression on Lea's face, and Lea only stops themself from lunging at him for the sake of the hunter.

They never should have let Duncan get them alone in this room. Trying to play nice, and for what? For the hunter to get beaten to the floor. For Duncan to flex his power.

Lea snarls at Lord Duncan as the soldiers force them to their knees. The movement jars the cut in their back, and they gasp, their body contorting in pain. Lea looks to the hunter then, shaking their head - just let them do this. It will be over soon.

It will be over soon, and I'm sorry.

The soldiers push Lea all the way to the floor, and they try to keep the hunter looking at them, saying their name, but they can see that the panic has seized them, and Lea continues to struggle as the hunter thrashes on the floor.

Duncan laughs at them.

"Look at me," Lea says, but the hunter isn't listening - the hunter isn't in the room with them anymore.

They convulse against the floor, and manage to throw off one of the soldiers and wrench themselves free, scrambling across the floor as they try to get away.

It's hard for Lea to watch.

Duncan puts an end to it, though, stepping forward and kicking them in the face.

Lea has to close their eyes then. Focus on their breathing.

Duncan whispers something to the hunter, his foot on their chest, and after a moment he steps back with a nod, the soldiers abruptly releasing Lea. They quickly force themself back onto their feet, breathing heavy, glaring at Duncan and imagining all the ways they would hurt him for this.

Duncan pauses, glancing back to the hunter on the floor, his soldiers once again surrounding him. "Noon tomorrow," is all he says, and then he steps out the door.

As soon as the door is closed, Lea rushes over to the hunter, dropping to their knees in front of them. They put what they hope is a comforting hand on their shoulder, saying their name, trying to bring them back.

The hunter closes their eyes, and Lea lets out a shaky breath.

They should have just kept their mouth closed. They should have just done what he asked.

Lea wants to apologize, but it doesn't feel like it would be enough.

They just whisper their name again, and the hunter opens their eyes. Lea leans over them, reaching to take their face in their hands - but all they manage is the ghost of a touch, their palm barely brushing the hunter's cheek before the guilt forces them to pull away.

The hunter slumps back against the wall, bowing their head, and Lea wonders what would happen if they tried to hold them.

"Don't - don't try to get up yet," they stammer, pushing the thought from their mind.

"I'm fine," the hunter says, just like always.

"Yeah. I know," Lea sighs, and the hunter lifts their gaze then to look at them.

"You're bleeding," they say.

"Yeah, I know," Lea repeats. The hunter scoffs, glancing sideways, and they push Lea's hand away and try to stand.

"I just said-" Lea starts, jumping to their feet to steady them, clicking their tongue and grabbing at their arm.

Lea is holding them too tight, they know it, they can see it in the way their knuckles strain white, can feel it in the rush of heat beneath their palm, the hunter hot and shaking from being pinned to the floor.

Lea is reluctant to let them go, though - not because they think they'll fall, but because Lea is afraid that they themself will.

But when the doorknob starts to turn, Lea doesn't hesitate this time - there's no way to hide anymore, Lea's weakness clearly exposed in the hunter's shaking hands. They quickly pull the hunter back behind them, glaring over at the door, though they relax slightly at the familiar, friendly faces.

But they keep the hunter behind them, this time.

[trigunwritings]

The Masks We Wear

Summary: Vash the Stampede is an an enigma. Human and myth, intelligent but a fool, so easy to befriend and yet so very alone. You decide to peel back the layers—both literal and metaphorical—to see the honest, beautiful man hiding behind the mask.

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Fem!Reader/Vash

To blame what unfolded in the late hours of that evening on having one drink too many would have been easy. Too easy. Each stray bit of clothing lost on the floor, each lingering gaze and gentle whisper to be blamed on the excuse of simple inebriation and a lack of restraint. If there had been an ounce of doubt—so much as a flicker of hesitation—it would have been all to easy to toss your actions aside and pretend that you had misread his own, if only so that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed by it come sunrise.

But it’s just a show. You and Vash know that both of you had sipped at nothing but water since arriving at this quiet little town. But it doesn’t change the fact that you waited, pausing after every forgotten layer, approaching step or touch. Waited to see if he would stop you.

But he never does. Instead he lets you undress him in smooth motions, not in the way that he wants you to do the work, but simply because he doesn’t know what to do himself.

The man looks almost lost, his eyes darting about behind his glasses but never quite meeting your own gaze as hands unzip one thing after another, until he is bare-chested and turning his face away, eyes shut tight.

It’s almost as if he expects something of you. From you.

“Vash?”

After a moment, the man’s eyes open and shift so that you’re more in his peripheral, but still not quite lifting them towards your face. He looks… almost frightened, and it’s only then that your hand passes across his naked chest—covered with scars ranging from thin slices to what seems to have been jagged claws or other machinations—only to feel his heart racing. It pounds so hard against his ribcage that you can’t count the individual beats.

“Vash,” you repeat his name, ducking your head slightly to try and make his eyes catch your own. “Are you okay?”

He is silent for a few moments, but his heart doesn’t slow.

“… I uh… I’ve… never… done this before,” he finally admits with a soft whisper. Vash lifts a hand and gestures, pointing his index finger from himself towards you, then back again.

“Had sex?” you offer, hoping that verbalizing it might help.

Vash turns his eyes forward and says “No,” before quickly smacking his hand to his forehead. “Wait—I mean yes. But also… this.” He gestures again, only this time waving his hand over his upper body. Over dozens of scars that must have years of history behind them all; injuries that didn’t heal correctly, wounds that were too deep.

And that’s when it hits you.

“You’ve never let anyone see you naked before.”

He nods slowly, trying to play it off with a force laugh, “Some people like t’ say that scars are hot, but I think I might have a few too many to qualify. Not uh… much of a looker underneath it all.” The humorous tone sounds so fake that it’s almost unnerving as he adds, “Sorry for disappointing you.”

”Vash,” your tone is perhaps a little too sharp, as the man flinches slightly and quickly ducks his eyes away again. But all it takes is a gentle nudge of your fingertips against his jaw, your other hand reaching up to pluck the glasses from his face so that you can see his sky-blue eyes clearly, bright and wonderful that you could get lost in them.

“You’re beautiful.”

He stares at you. For several long moments it’s as if he had been frozen in time, lips parted just enough so that you can see his tongue behind them trying for form words as his face grows flushed with heat. It isn’t hard to guess that he is seconds away from turning his attention away again, so you hold his chin and force him to hold your gaze.

“Vash, you are so beautiful.”

And that is when, in a gentle but firm motion, you grab Vash’s shoulders and push him onto the squeaky old bed.

What follows is admittedly a bit of a visual blur of clothes falling to the ground alongside the constant creaking of a bed frame so aged and worn that it could collapse beneath your bodies at any moment—considering how much you were focusing on the man atop which you straddled, it easily could have without being at all noticed.

For better or worse, Vash wasn’t very good at masking his thoughts. They were all too plain upon his features as you removed your clothing in turn. Shirt, pants, bra and underwear shamelessly discarded upon the floor all while you did your best to remain astride his lanky hips.

If the crimson hue over his cheeks and ears didn’t give away his interest, then something else certainly did; it wasn’t hard to notice the hard shape pressing in the space between your thighs, separated only by Vash’s pants and whatever he wore beneath them.

“You’re cute when you blush,” you can’t help but tease, hands reaching down to undo his belt as your eyes roamed languidly over his chest and up towards his face. Flushed even more, if that was possible. “Is this the first time you’ve seen a woman naked?”

He glances away, but only for a brief moment as if to fish out the right words from the sea of chaotic thoughts.

“N-No,” he finally whispers, trying to stifle any perceived stammering with an awkward chuckle, “I mean—almost once, b-but I think the lady got my inn room mixed up with someone else’s at the time. Was barely able to explain it before she had her shirt completely off. C-Crazy story huh?”

You lift an inquisitive brow but don’t prod any further, instead deciding to use the moment to pull Vash’s belt free from the loops of his pants, then start tugging them down over his hips and legs.

“Woah woah wait a minute—“ he says, “Do we really uh, need to take those off?”

“You needed to have them off in order to have sex the last I checked,” you say upon tossing them onto the ground. “At least the kind I assumed we were going to have.”

Even in the brief glance allowed from the motion, it’s easy to see that the scars go all the way down the full length of his body; not an inch is without some faded mark, blemish or old wound. Pushing back a sympathetic urge as hands trace up his legs, your fingers curl around the hem of his boxers.

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’re hiding in these, Vash.” Your laughter echoes in the small room, tone and words soft and without an edge, but you’re keenly aware that the line between the man’s consent and non-consent is as thin as as string. When he doesn’t otherwise try to resist or offer other words against the you after several seconds, you move to take off the last layer of clothing on either of your bodies.

If it had been hard to tell that he was aroused by the tone of his voice or the burning of his cheeks, then Vash’s cock would have made it plainly obvious as it bounces aching and flushed from the confines of his boxers.

There isn’t even a spare moment to let him try to make a self-depreciating joke before you’re sitting astride him once more, settled in a way that his arousal presses against the curve of your lower belly.

“… How are you feeling?”

“I… think this mattress could be hiding rocks in it with how hard it is on my back.” Vash offers you the slightest smile, shy but not overly so. “Also, terrible interior design. Zero out of ten.”

“You doofus,” you gently slap a hand down onto the center of his chest and push him down into the bed, “would you like me to stop?”

There is a pause, silence that is filled only by the muted and distant sounds of rowdy bar goers on the floor below.

His heart is still racing.

“… no, this is okay.”

“Good,” you smile, then shift so that both of your hands are pressing palm-down over Vash’s bare chest. You can feel the shape of several scars against one, while the fingers of the other splay over where metal meets with knitted flesh at his left shoulder.

There would be a time to ask and ponder, but this precious moment is not it. Instead of bitterness and the weight of past pains and memories, you want it to be good. You want him to feel good. To feel adored in a way he had never allowed someone else to offer him before.

After the gentle silence of two breaths echoing in tandem, your eyes narrow in mischievous joy.

“I won’t let you out of this bed until you admit that you’re wonderful in every way.”

“I’m not,” Vash says, the rejection sounding stiff and instinctual. Then he tries to shoot you a smile. “You’re the wonderful one.”

“It’s not a competition, Vash.” your hands begin to roam idly across his chest, fingertips tracing idle shapes and along the seams of several old, long scars that looked as if something sharp had torn through the flesh.

His hands lay next to your legs, fingertips just barely brushing against bare skin; if you were to hold your breath, you’d feel them shaking ever so slightly.

Nearly imperceptible, like the mask that Vash wore around other people. But not you.

Not you.

”I see you,” you murmur, leaning down and pressing your lips into the curve of his throat. “All of you. Every inch—and it’s wonderful.” One kiss leads into another, then another, uncountable as each press sweet and purposeful against the myriad of scars across Vash’s upper chest. Even your voice is gentle as it hums against his marred flesh. “You are so wonderful Vash, my Vash…”

A breath catches in his throat every time your lips fall upon his chest. Aching. Wanting. Horny and touch-starved in a way that he never could quite comprehend or realize he so utterly lacked the satisfaction of.

The kissing continues, tracing over his right shoulder until, slowly, your attention moved down his arm and up to his hand that you brought up to your face. As your lips met the inside of his wrist, you murmur, “Do you want me to keep touching you?”

As your eyes flutter open and glance towards his face, you find Vash nodding—silent, but honest. Horribly honest. Terribly, beautifully, wonderfully honest; his flushed face and racing heart could never hide the soft desire he held behind those eyes of his.

Your lips curl into a smile. “Good boy.”

In that moment, there was a shift in Vash’s gaze. Something deep and carnal that blossomed with every syllable of the words that left your mouth.

“Such a good boy, Vash. Let me make you feel good—will you let me help you feel good?”

Another nod, softer than the first but just as sure. Maybe it’s the way you say his name. Most people tended to call him ‘Stampede’ or ‘the human typhoon’ or any number of other titles that often seemed to hang on his shoulders like stones, but you can’t help but love the way his eyes light up whenever you say his name, as if entranced for a single fleeting moment.

It doesn’t take long before your hips shift so that your body is hovering over his cock, seemingly harder than it was before. He isn’t particularly large, but neither is he particularly small either—it helps that you’re just as aroused as he is, but the slow motion down is as much for your own benefit as it is to simply tease Vash in turn.

He whimpers, hands shaking a bit more obviously as his left one comes to gently hang onto your hip. It is cold, but he doesn’t try to force your hips down any faster than you are willing to go.

“That’s a good boy…”

Your voice is breathless and tight. Even when the full length of Vash’s cock fills you, it takes a few moments to collect your thoughts and reign them in properly; every instinct in the back of your mind wants nothing more than to bounce up and down, repeated motions in a carnal need for pleasure, but it doesn’t take more than a moment to stifle them and turn your eyes back towards the man beneath you.

A beautiful, flushed mess.

“It’s okay,” you whisper with a smile. “You don’t need to hold back if you’re about to…”

“IthinkIloveyou.”

A moment passes. Brief. Soft. The words begin to sink in like the precious drops of water from a leaking pipe. Words that had been understood, but not quite spoken so plainly between the two of you—words that you knew Vash had been so afraid of speak.

All you can do is look at him, hoping that the joy and warmth bubbling within is clear across your expression. “I love you too.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a gentle pace, hips bouncing up and down with just enough speed that his cock is barely missed before it is pressing inside of you once more. Languid and loving, careful and continuous. Each blip of pleasure is enough to make your walls constrict around him tighter, which in turn draws out a series of sweet whimpers and moans from Vash’s lips.

“That’s it baby,” you murmur in broken breaths. “You feel so good inside me. So beautiful.”

To emphasize the words, a series of kisses pepper across the man’s chest. Each press of your lips earn a soft gasp of your name mixed with broken pleas for more. You never knew it could sound so arousing to hear him begging.

That alone was its own addiction.

Between soft whispers of encouragement and love, you can hear Vash’s whimpers gain volume and fervency. His own body starts to shift and squirm desperately, hips lifting up to meet the motions of your own to try and bury his cock as deep inside you as possible—and all the while, your name is a prayer upon his lips.

“You can cum.” Your hands finally settle back on Vash’s chest, then move so that your palms are cupping against either side of his face even though his eyes are shut tight. “You don’t need to hold anything back, Vash. Let me help you feel good—cum inside me, baby.”

It doesn’t take any further encouragement for the man to practically sob as he finds a beautiful climax beneath you. His hips move desperately for a few seconds while he spills his seed inside of you and then slow down, all the while his chest is heaving for air. After a thin whimper, Vash’s eyes finally flutter open.

They’re beautiful.

He looks at you for a moment before breaking the gaze to look down towards where his body meets yours in blissful union, and then lifts it back up to your face.

“Are you…?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

The smile that pulls at your lips is filled with warmth and honest pleasure, happy if for nothing else then to see Vash vulnerable and trusting in your intimate embrace. He starts to complain, but you shush the sound with a kiss that lingers long enough for the man to fall into a peaceful afterglow.

“There’s plenty of time for me later,” you whisper upon breaking the kiss. “Right now is for you. Just you.”

He is silent, but it doesn’t last for very long before he asks in a murmur, “Can… we stay like this for a few more minutes?”

A chuckle breaks past your lips before you can stop it, not meaning to make Vash feel bad for asking a simple question.

“Don’t you remember what I said earlier?”

He stares at you, a little dumbfounded, though that might be the orgasm tossing his thoughts around.

With a smile on your lips, you repeat the promise, “I won’t let you out of this bed until you admit that you’re wonderful in every way—even if that means being here kissing you ‘till sunrise.”

[lunar-rcp]

The justice that lies within my heart

☆ . .Tags: descriptive injury, swearing

For some reason tumblr didn't add my oneshot to the rcp tag, so repost it is..

“You all must know why you're here, right?” Jin started the conversation with a dull tone, spinning her chair around to face the others.

“Yes, we do know.” Poli spoke out. He furrowed his eyebrows at the situation that had recently unfolded into chaos, the harmony of Brooms Town shattered like a broken mirror. As well as everyone's trust in each other.

Recently, there were over a dozen reports of monster trucks invading the town, causing harm & distrust to the Broomstown's citizens. And every time the rescue team had gave all their efforts to put a stop to them and bring justice to the town,

It just didn't work out.

Jin sighed in distress. “God, this is giving me a miragine!” The inventor slammed her hand against the desk, rubbing her forehead temples with the other. “We've been at this for weeks, and yet we're still unable to catch the crook!” Jin tightened her fist into a ball. “Those damn monster trucks, oh I will absolutely beat the livi–”

“Jin!” Amber exclaimed. “I get that you're angry, but we shouldn't attack with offense! We need to lay low.” Amber pointed her wheel at the board with collected information they gathered over the weeks. “We know they have a base at this point, so we need to form a plan.” Amber turned her head towards the police car, raising her eyebrow.

“Hm,” Poli hummed. “I have already constructed a plan as you can see.” Poli had transformed and walked towards the bullet point board, pointing his finger at a specific hand written letter in the middle. “I have decided that we have no choice but to invade their base and arrest them on the spot.” His voice was stern, yet layers of a worrying tone were hidden beneath that serious expression of his. He was worried.

What if the plan doesn't go as intended?

What if someone gets hurt, and it is his fault for his poor reckless leadership skills?

But he didn't have the time to feel sorry for himself. He had to protect the team, even if he had to sacrifice himself for his own plans.

They were his friends– No, his family. A family he cherished more than any treasure can do.

Poli brushed his thoughts off. “So, do you agree?”

“Right!” The others exclaimed, their expressions shaped just like their leader's.

“Then let's get to it.”

The team stood dumbfounded right in front of the base where the monster trucks had been staying. Saying that it was big was an understatement.

“It's.. huge..” Roy muttered out, his mouth slightly agape.

“And it's hidden so deep into the forest.. No wonder we had a hard time trying to search their base..” Amber sighed.

“How are we going to tackle this, Poli?! Just look at all those metal doors protecting the place!” Helly said with a groan, crossing his arms.

“Don't worry, Helly.” Poli drew a long sigh, but then a grin painted onto his face. “There might be all this protection in front of our eyes, but maybe there's a secret passageway we just haven't discovered.” Poli turned to Helly. “Helly, could you scan the area to see if there is a way for us to get in?” Helly nodded to Poli's request. “Roger that, Poli!”

Helly flew up to get a clearer view of the base. It did really look bigger now that he was up in the sky.

“Woah, it's so huge just like Roy said!” The helicopter pulled out his detector, scanning the area to see if anything was of use to get them in.

Bingo. A loose roof panel was enough to fit one of them in.

Poli's transmitter beeped. “Yes, Helly? Did you find anything?” Poli itched for an answer. He had to put a stop to this. He was the leader, he needed to bring peace to his town.

“Well, I found something.. but,” Helly's tone saddened. “It's only enough to fit one of us in! If we all go in together, it will be just an entire mes–”

“Then I'll go.” Poli immediately said, not even letting Helly finish off his sentence. This caused surprise to the others, as well as concern.

“What?!” Roy exclaimed with a gasp. “Are you sure, Poli? What if you get hurt?” Roy frowned. “Don't worry, Roy.” Poli assuringly smiled at the both who stood next to him. “I'm the leader, I'll protect all of you no matter the circumstances.”

“Oh Poli, you truly have a heart of gold.” Amber said with a warming smile, to which Roy also nodded with the same expression. “Yes, she's quite right.”

“It's nothing.” Poli lightly chuckled. “You two try to break the security's system, alright? And on my mark, you'll corner them along with Helly.”

“Got it! Good luck, Poli!” The two gave determined looks before running off to break open the system.

“This will be tough..” Poli couldn't help but gulp. But no time to chicken out.

“I can do this.”

Poli set out a recuse line towards the base's roof, attaching it to the edge. With slow movements, he began to climb up towards the top of the base.

“Poli!” Helly flew towards him. “I heard from Roy and Amber you're gonna go down there alone, please tell me– Are you going to be alright?!” The young helicopter's tone was drowned in worry. Poli was like a brother to him, and just thinking about the time where he saved him from the ravine made his heart sink to think what could happen to him.

“I'll be fine, Helly. You just keep watch to see if any of them go out from the base, okay?”

“Alright.. I'll trust you.” Helly spoke with a small smile.

“Great.” Poli returned the same smile.

Poli walked towards the loose roof panel, shoving it away with ease to invite himself in. For a base hidden away like this, things are sure easy to break.

Poli attached his rope to the roof's edge once again. He then slowly guided himself into the base.

“Huh.” Poli inspected his surroundings, there were dozens of wires loosely scattered around the floors and tvs hanging onto the walls. On the tvs it displayed the town. The town looked nearly like an abandoned one from your typical horror film; It was empty. There was no life spewing from it anymore. All of the citizen's wouldn't dare to even take a step outside, they were all terrified.

Poli felt his anger bubble only more, not even Shakespeare could use words to describe his infuriation.

Why would someone do this? To his town?

Why didn't they bother to just leave peace to the town and continue their day like no other?

And yet, they decide to cause havoc and break that peace.

He was so, so angry.

He couldn't even find the answer to his own questio–

What was that?

Poli swept his questions away from his mind. No way did the universe decide to mess with him now, or did he just hear distant chattering ringing in his ear?

“Wow, we really scared those idiots off, didn't we?” A monster truck laughs iniquitously. A laugh that only added to Poli's anger.

“We really did! And that idiotic rescue team has been trying to catch us for weeks! No luck for them, hah!” Another truck spoke in the same brattish tone.

Poli gritted his teeth. “Oh, just you wait.” Then, his transmitter went off.

“Poli! We have managed to break open the system! We are now currently hiding behind a wall!” Amber spoke. “Good job, I'm just right beside the room they're in. On my mark, we will back them into a corner.” Poli's voice was strict.

“Got it!” Roy & Amber exclaimed in unison.

Poli took slow steps over the wires, careful not to trip over them. It looked like he was just a door away from them, as the chattering got louder with each step he took.

There he stood, just in front of the door. All he had to do was to kick it open and arrest them on the spot. To bring justice and peace once again.

With a deep sigh, he turned his transmitter on to contact the others. “Alright. On the count of 3, we will barge.” He whispered softly, careful to not be heard by the monster trucks.

“Three,” Poli took a step back, preparing himself for anything that could happen.

“Two,” He then reached for his gun attached to his leg to protect himself.

“One.”

Poli kicked open the door with his foot, jumping into the room with his gun in hand.

“Freeze! Stop what you're doing right now!” Poli's sudden yell startled the two monster trucks, putting their malicious chattering to a stop.

“Don't think you're alone with him either!” Roy shouted, his usual calm demeanor was no more. Amber was right beside him, correcting her position to defensive stance.

“Shit–!” A monster truck cursed. “Damn it, they got in!”

“Damn right we are!” Poli reached out for his handcuffs, ready to apprehend the two until–

A loud bang echoed through the room.

Everything went quiet for the police. The constant irritating buzzing from computers, the shouting that escalated from the situation, the dangling metal noises that his handcuffs made when in contact;

All those noises died down.

Poli slowly lifted his head up to face Roy and Amber. Did they also lose their hearing temporarily from the loud noise? He was worried. What if they got hurt?

He was only met with their eyes widening as they stared back in a freezing state. Amber couldn't help but cover her mouth with her hands. Her hands were slightly shaking, Poli noted.

Roy stumbled back, his eyes more widened than Amber's. Did something startle him? Poli asked himself.

That was until a peculiar sound faded back into Poli's ear. Ah, he could hear again!

However, that sound wasn't a pleasant one.

A dripping one, to be exact.

Drip, drip.. drip..

That was until it clicked.

Drip.. drip, drip..

Poli hesitantly looked towards the ground. Small, black oil droplets stained the cold metal floors of the base.

Blood?

His eyes lifted from the ground, slowly averting themselves towards the source of where this blood could be coming from.

My.. shoulder?

Poli gently placed his hand onto his shoulder for mere seconds before steadily bringing his hand out to himself.

His hand.. painted in a jet black smudge.

Did.. I get shot?

And finally, he looked back to his shoulder.

No way, it can't be.

He had been shot by a human behind him; supposedly the monster truck's leader. That was nice to know, he should note that for further investigation.

Wait, why was his mind drifting off? Shouldn't he be focusing on his wound?

Poli continuously stared at his shoulder. Blood was oozing out of his shoulder, it dripped from his shoulder to all the way towards the ground. Poli cringed at the sight.

Strangely enough, it didn't hurt. Not even a slight sting. Was that from shock?

And then, everything went black.

As his eyesight darkened, he could hear Amber and Roy screaming his name.

Their screams slowly muffled down, until it was quiet once again.

Was this his end?

Had he at least led a good team?

He didn't know.

He was awoken by a sharp, terrible pain.

“Agh,” Poli hissed. This.. hurt.. a lot.

Poli's eyelids slowly opened, his view being met by red, pink, green, and orange blurs prancing around.

Muffled terrified, worried, and sobbing noises ringed in his ear.

“He's waking up!” Jin gasped.

“Poli!!” The other three exclaimed with worry.

“Mm.. a–agh,” He tried to speak, but only groaning came out of his mouth. “H–Huh?.. Y–You..” It was hard to talk. The pain was unbearable. “Guys..? It– pain..”

“It's gonna be okay.” Amber spoke with a concerned yet calm tone. “I know it does, but the bullet has already been taken out. You will be okay, Poli.”

“A–Are..” Poli stumbled over his words. “You– guys– Alright?.. W–What about the–”

“We caught them, Poli.” Roy softly smiled at him. “We got them. There's now peace in this town, and it's all thanks to you.”

“T–That's.. great, you guys. I'm so proud of you.” Poli finally could muster up a full coherent sentence.

“Poli!” Helly sobbed, clutching the blue sheets of his bed with a grip. “Y–You're okay! I thought you were a goner! You were shot!” Helly sniffed, tears were rolling down from his frame.

“I see,” Poli frowned. He was somewhat thankful for only being shot in the arm, as it could be so much worse. But the pain was still booming. “Thanks to you guys, I was fine.” Poli slowly reached out his other arm to pat Helly on his head to comfort him.

“We'll take care of you, Poli.” Roy still maintained that soft smile. Something Poli grew quite fond of. “Just like you did for us.”

“I'm glad I was able to bring justice to our town.” Poli grinned. “But, I suppose I need a break for now.. don't I?”

“You sure do,” Amber answered. “But we'll all take care of you.”

“We promise. Thank you, Poli.”

Poli softly chuckled at their appreciation.

“You're welcome.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Word count: 2.222 words

longest oneshot ever.. my hands hurt eugh..

Request by @gukul , sorry for the double @ lol tumblr was being mean

[bestworstcase]

Summer from Mountain Glen backstory would also fit with Salem's recruitment pattern. Hazel -> Gretchen. Watts -> Penny project chosen. Cinder -> Glass Unicorn. A concrete reason for dissatisfaction with the system, albeit some (Watts) pettier than others. Mountain Glenn which were buried and commute blocked off. Yeah that would definitely qualify.

Small thing - apparently from Grimm Eclipse there's one voice line from Yang that amounts to "It must have been nice here once" - though I can't find the source of that quote. Which if Summer was from Mountain Glenn holds a completely different impact as a statement from a survivor's daughter decades later.

as the resident Watts Defender i feel obliged to trot out watts was from mantle again, ’cause i think greenlighting the penny project was more the thousandth cut in a death-by-a-thousand cuts situation; esp. because i don’t think being pissed about the penny project is all that petty, given the context of ironwood challenging this team to come up with “the next breakthrough in defense technology” and then picked the proposal for [checks notes] a costly prototype robotic child super-soldier that requires the partial surgical removal of someone’s literal soul to function and can therefore never be built more than once, let alone manufactured at scale. like imagine being watts.

ironwood: we need to innovate to remove men from the dangers of the battlefield, so i want all of you to come up with a proposal for the next big breakthrough in defense technology. watts probably: okay well, our combat AI is still too rudimentary to let the synthetic soldiers fight unsupervised, so i’ve designed a heavily-armored walking tank that can run faster than a car and jump dozens of feet into the air in order to keep our living officers safe on the front lines while dramatically improving our offensive capabilities against hordes of grimm. pietro: i think we should carve out a piece of my soul and put it in a robot to create one (1) nigh-indestructible synthetic super-soldier who we’ll design to look like an atlas academy student. ironwood: i pick the robot girl :)

like are you joking.

we don’t know for certain that the paladins were watts’ proposal but that does seem to be the implication and like—if that’s so then ironwood held on to that proposal for years after watts faked his death and eventually put ’em into production as the penny project neared completion, which… tracks with “you just stood atop it and called yourself a giant.” in the face of such egregious favoritism and interest in technological spectacle and novelty over practical solutions i’d probably quit in disgust too!

/tangent

but yeah summer being a mountain glenn survivor is intriguing enough that i’m a little regretful i didn’t think of it before nailing down her backstory for time does this adlscfj—although not enough to scrap my plans for it lmfao—it puts a real face on this historical tragedy that has been kind of looming silently over the story. and the face is the character who’s haunting the narrative from her secret place as salem’s general. very juicy.

oobleck looks at mountain glenn and sees lives that could have been saved—why weren’t they? what motivated the inaction, the choice to cut mountain glenn off, leave people to fend for themselves in the undercity? what kept people there, living in caverns with grimm nesting over their heads, rather than evacuate to vale? (your so-called free world.)

if that was summer’s childhood and she escaped and got taken in by the huntsmen academy system, raised in these values, how might she feel about vale? about beacon? about herself as a huntress? how sharply might she feel the dissonance between what huntsmen are supposed to be and the sacrifice of mountain glenn? is that what drove her to confront salem, a determination to not be complicit through her inaction? is that why she chose to stay? etc.

it also adds some really interesting potential layers to summer holding beacon and presumably participating in the razing of vale. like is this something she has enough moral qualms about to give her pause or is it an act of long-delayed retribution to her. juicy!

[chenlopez]

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