#Self-Aware Naomi | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shallowseeker · 1 year

Text

Cas, the angel tablet, and knowing his own heart, part 3

Cas is home, but fear drives him to try to fix everything and protect everyone. His efforts leads to him harming the very thing he wanted to protect.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (You are here)

///

== Dean is frosty ==

In 8x22: Clip Show, Dean's hurt, reeling from the rejection that Cas perhaps doesn't even fully grasp he delivered. (Dean is extra, extra prickly, and maybe even a touch embarrassed over the whole thing.)

He thought that, through fighting the Leviathan and fighting through Purgatory, at least their trust had improved. (Cas isn't even thinking about those things, his hands are so full with Heaven trying to harm his family and the humans around him.)

///

When Cas enters the room, he reaches out. Cas says the equivalent of, "Good morning! I like your house." Dean gives him the cold should and transparently business himself with "kitchen things," pretending to be too busy to talk to Cas.

DEAN (brings Sam in a plate): Soup's on. There we go. [DEAN SIPS THE OPEN BEER] I think this is, uh... Oh, it's still good. SAM (clocking Dean's weirdness): A half-drunk beer, jerky, and three peanut-butter cups? DEAN: Yeah, we're – we're running a little low. I'll make a run. CASTIEL (eager): Dean, I can go with you. 8x22: Clip Show,

Cas immediately moves to go with Dean...to restock the kitchen. (Again with Dean n' Cas and kitchens, man. It's where they chat and live together get on the same page about things and store their Giant Hearts.)

CAS: Dean. I'm sorry. DEAN (playing it off, but fishing, blinking rapidly to hide his emotions): For what? 8x22: Clip Show

For what indeed. There's a careful edge, a crafted composure and faux-lightness that is at odds with the situation. (It almost veers into, "For what, because I sure as Hell didn't say anything to you. You misheard me. I misspoke.")

Then, it veers into safer territory. Ish.

CAS: For everything. DEAN: Everything? Like, uh... Like ignoring us? CAS: Yes. DEAN: Or like bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it 'cause you didn't trust me? You didn't trust me. CAS: Yes. 8x22: Clip Show

This is about Dean spilling his guts as much as it is Cas's risky decisions-that-put-him-in-danger. Cas goes off, likes he always does, and he gets brain-whammied by Heaven, and he loses his own heart to Heaven's wars, AND he gets hurt. Dean wants him to be home.

In Purgatory, he asked him to come home with him.

Three seconds later, Sam encourages Dean to "go easy on Cas," even though Sam doesn't have much information at all about the raw emotionality of the situation. Dean's hurt feelings are, of course, about what happened in the crypt, where Dean revealed his Feelings directly to Cas. And Sam has no idea, so it's a little funny.

== New motifs on the horizon ==

Just after their confrontation, Dean and Sam discover the archives and dungeon room for the first time.

THE ARCHIVE ROOM AND DUNGEON

This is where Cas will die, of course, and where Cas will eventually return Dean's feelings. If Cas chooses to love Dean, he's going against God and damning himself to the punishment reminiscent of blended-Nephilim families, as hinted in part 1.

///

BUNKER MOVIE NIGHT

With the angel tablet lost, we get a new symbol, the first instance of "bunker movie night."

This will become a new motif of decoding for Dean and Cas--something they use to try to understand one another, speak the same language, and get on the same page. (Eventually, it will be how they spend quality time together.)

The popcorn is between Dean and Cas, pushed towards Cas, like Dean has left it there as a silent peace offering.

///

== Cas wants back on the team ==

After getting burned by Heaven, Cas wants to be on Team Free Will again, to be equal partners who trust each other. Cas wants to be welcomed back with open arms right away, and Dean is agitated over that, given their last meeting.

But despite everything, Dean is worried. Cas doesn't bring up Dean's raw "I need you," words, and Dean doesn't either.

CAS: Dean, I just want to help. DEAN: We don't need your help. Just stay here and – and get better.

But Dean invokes the word need.

///

== Help! I'm in the doghouse ==

What follows is one of the most hilarious "Help! I'm in the doghouse!" scenes that we'll ever see.

Cas runs out to replenish the kitchen on his own. Sorta.

He goes to a gas-n-sip, to get fuel for the road-journey. He grabs beef jerky, God's specter of fetish-porn, toilet paper, beer, and he cracks eggs...for some reason. He leaves a mess behind.

As he reaches for canned goods (sustenance, a quick meal), he knocks over a rack of....pizza-flavored and BBQ-flavored chips.

Cas is trying to reach out, but he has already accidentally, unknowingly knocked down his chances of pizza. There is no pie.

(Also, poor Chris-the-minimum-wage-worker.)

///

== Enter Metatron ==

Unbeknownst to Castiel, this scribe, fluent in The Angel Tablet and knowledgeable of dangerous spell, has already clocked Cas as a champion of humanity, and he needs Castiel for his Revenge spell.

As they hustle from the convenience store, a warning bell tolls in the background.

METATRON: It's a mess up there. Open warfare...There are factions upon factions, all fighting, betraying each other. It's just a matter of time before they start ripping each other apart. It's all broken. CASTIEL: I know, I'm the one who broke it. There was a time when I thought I could lead our people, but I was mistaken. I spilled so much blood. And I've tried to atone for my sins and I did penance. And I [sighs] betrayed my friends to protect our secrets, but I've just failed. And now – METATRON: Look, I know. But now the angels – heaven – need someone to come to the rescue. They need us. CASTIEL: Us?

Castiel once more falls prey to the thinking, "I and I alone can fix it," (in this case, "we and we alone can fix it.")

That's because he thinks he and he alone broke it.

But the thing is, Castiel is the product of a billions-year broken system of war, not the root cause of its brokenness

Cas's past baggage is preventing his ability to fully reckon and understand his heart, and his heart is calling out to him to fix things and protect his loved ones. And so, he goes after Metatron and the New Cause to assuage his guilt.

SAM: "I can't find Cas. Think he blew town." DEAN (stoic, hurt): "Sounds like him."

///

== Angel tablet trial #1: The Nephilim ==

METATRON: "Levianthans get out of control, you put em in Purgatory. Demons get a little too demonic, toss em into Hell, angels get uppity, slam the Pearly gates. At the very least, it would s – [dog barking in distance, another warning] It would stop the fighting up there from spilling out down here, which will happen. It always does.

That's what Castiel is afraid of, and Metatron knows it. He's read Cas's heart. He knows it's about the safety of the human family. He knows how Heaven works. That they work cloaked in brutality and threats.

This is a primal fear Cas visited in 8x21: The Great Escapist, when the angels rained down on the diner. Cas wants to protect his heart and the humanity that he loves. Heaven's fighting spilled into the family restaurant, where his heart dwells.

Carnage at Biggerson's, 8x21

///

METATRON: No. I can't. I am a pencil pusher, always have been. I'm not strong enough. But you – you are a warrior. I've got the plan. You've got the muscle. We can do this. Heaven needs your help, Castiel. CASTIEL: I am the one that caused these problems. I should be the one to fix them.

So, Metatron casts Castiel as the gullible jock to his crafty nerd.

METATRON: See our waitress? She's the first trial – got to cut her heart out. CASTIEL: What? No, she's... She's just a girl. METATRON: No, she isn't. She's a Nephilim, an abomination. CASTIEL: She's the offspring of an angel and a human? I thought that wasn't allowed. METATRON: It's not. There's only one on Earth, and you are looking at it. CASTIEL: But she didn't choose to be a Nephilim, so she's innocent. METATRON: Yes, she is. I told you it wasn't gonna be easy. But if you want to do this, Castiel, if you really want to do this, you got to ask yourself what's more important – her life or your family?

Metatron doesn't mean the angel family, he means the one that Castiel is terrified of getting caught in the cross-fires of Heaven's wars. He means the human family.

///

They stalk Jane the Nephilim. Cas seems reticent, but he goes through with it, understanding his heart's motivations and wanting to save his family, but undertaking a great evil, born of great fear. He is killing the very things that represent his blended family...and he will be the final ingredient. It will not protect his family but ultimately but them in more danger.

JANE: I know what you are. I could see your halos. METATRON: And we know what you are - Abomination. JANE: Please, I'm not. I try to be nice. I just want to live my life. CAS: We know. I am sorry. JANE: You will be.... You want an abomination? I'll show you an abomination.

And Jane's execution is exceptionally violent. Cas stabs her from behind, through the neck. Then, Cas cuts her heart out. She is, in many ways, the true flower of free will, a union born of the alliance of Heaven and Earth, but he killed it without even recognizing it for what it was.

(Obviously, this parallels season 15's murder of Jack Kline.)

///

== If we shut it all down, you'll finally be safe ==

Which leads us directly into 8x23: Sacrifice. Metatron is taken by Naomi, and Cas runs to Dean for help. He always runs to his human family for help, when it's down to the wire.

(Meanwhile, Metatron is told ominously by Naomi that the archangels had wanted her to "debrief" him, long ago, but he ran, and we feel some sense of why he's so vengeful. Metatron cries out, "You drove me from my home!")

CAS: I've been working with (Metatron) on the Angel trials. DEAN: The what? CAS: We're gonna shut it all down -- Heaven, Hell, all of it.

It's the way to keep you safe. It's the way to fix my home. (I and I alone can fix it.)

DEAN: Metatron, the guy who was full-on crazy, cat-lady-hoarder angel yesterday -- now he wants to save Heaven? CASTIEL: Yes, he wants to. CASTIEL: But I'm the only one in who can. I can't fail, Dean, not on this one. I need your help.

Dean is rightfully suspicious. Motive is always important. He clocks that before Naomi ever shows. It's not that he trusts Naomi, per se, but he's suspicious of Metatron before they even head out.

///

In this image, as has been pointed out by others, we get the two arrows symbology again, similar to the arrow through two hearts that the Biggerson's waitress Kara wore.

Although he is rightfully suspicious of Metatron's rapidly shifting motivations, when Cas asks for his help, he gives it without much pushing.

Meanwhile, Sam is trying to be a grownup hunter, and to make his own amends for his season-8-absenteeism and escapism. Dean says to Cas, "If anyone needs a chaperone, it's Sam."

(Kids' table again.) ///

== Angel tablet trial #2: The Cupid's bow ==

Cas is motivated, amped up in his own conviction and eagerness to fix, not recognizing his own corruption in the process

He's awful to Kevin: "There is no out. Only duty. You are a Prophet of the Lord, always and forever...until the day you cease to exist, and then another Prophet takes your place. Now, are you clear as to the task before you?"

We have the specter of duty and work again, but with career and duty, you are expendable and so, so replaceable.

///

Next, we have the oft-cited, Cupid's bow-shooting Dean. I think it's very likely that Dean is thinking about his feelings again here, the ones that weren't returned. He's trying to come to terms with them.

DEAN: Talk to me. You sure about this?

And of course Cas is sure about this. This will keep Heaven's problems away from them, or so he hopes. "One step ahead of them, to keep them away from you." As always.

Dean gently nudges him about the issue, asks him if "this is it." If this is the end of them, and if Cas is going to die? Cas stares him dead in the eyes and says, "Yeah. I might." Dean tries to shrug it off using his trademark, misery-humor.

They both look so sad!

"So this is it."

///

As the Cupid-bonding gets underway, the screen reflects it. Off-screen, the bartender and Rod start noticing one another, and on screen, we see two men happily walking next together.

"Damn. That's sweet."

Music plays, ♪ "Oh, it's so nice to be with you. I love all the things you say and do. And it's so nice to hear you say, you're gonna please me in every way." ♪

Dean stares, open-mouthed.

Importantly, this is unlike Dean's scene with the TV screen. In Dean's scene, he's getting mortally wounded, shot by the bow-and-arrow, and there is no other party. He's "unrequited" in this thing with Cas. Alone.

Even when Cas walks in, the Dean's TV scene remains solitary, at least from what we (and Dean) can see.

Dean is trying to come to terms with his own "rejection."

///

They follow the cupid. She says, "I've been afraid to go home for some time now... Now it's chaos. It all seems to be breaking down, and you really think you can fix that?"

Cas replies, "With time."

She extends the open palm, giving it freely. This love is caring. From nurturing your family members to comforting the ones you love, caring is done with open, kind hands.

"Take it then," she says.

(Take it. Please.)

Except Cas's hands are not kind here:

He raises his blade, cutting out the very thing that makes him strong and binds his blended family together. (His kindness, his heart. Despite his uncertainty and gut instinct, he's ignoring it.) Aside// this is a parallel to the earlier part of season 8 in Purgatory, where he bats away Dean's open hand inviting him home.

///

== Naomi-who-cried Wolf ==

Dean follows up on his instincts re: Metatron. He checks out the Angel Trials with Kevin.

KEVIN: I think I found the Angel Trials, but I don't see anything about a Nephilim or a Cupid's bow or anything like that.

They walk together.

And oh, this scene. It looks like they SHOULD be holding hands. Dean's hand is "up in the air," and Cas's is a closed fist, clenched too tightly around violence and penance to reach back.

Cas holds what is very likely Jane's Nephilim heart in a plastic shopping bag. He started 8x22 holding normal kitchen provisions, and this is a terrible replacement.

His original instinct to "fix" things with Dean using silly gifts was his default state, what he should have followed through on. This, however? It's misguided. It's evil.

///

Enter Naomi, unsettled. She comes to Castiel and Dean, because she trusts them to want to do the right thing. But unfortunately for her, she has made herself untrustworthy.

She appeals directly to Dean instead, pragmatically knowing she's got a shot with him.

He doesn't really want Cas to leave, after all. (And she has intel on Sam.)

NAOMI: I'm not here to fight you. Not anymore. He told you he was going to fix Heaven, didn't he? Murdering a Nephilim, cutting off a Cupid's bow. It's a lie. All of it. ...He's trying to break it. An act of revenge for driving him away."

In torturing her comrades, and in driving Metatron away from his home to start with, Naomi has created a mistrustful, damaged family that bites her in the ass.

Dean's interest is peaked, but mostly because he already has honed in on Metaton's unreliability. It's about him being suspicious of Metatron's MOTIVE, not a magic innate sense of knowing what's right, or faith in Naomi.

NAOMI: (He wants) to expel all angels from Heaven, just as God cast out Lucifer. Here. Thousands of us, walking the Earth. Our mission was to protect what God created. I don't know when we forgot that.

And, perhaps most unsettlingly, Naomi reveals that "the ultimate sacrifice was always God's intention. "

And there is so much sacrifice of "children" going on, even here. Jane is sacrificed. Sam is going to be sacrificed. (And war IS indirect sacrifice, usually of the sons and daughters.)

This has ominous implications for season 15 as well.

CAS: Dean, I'm not wrong. I'm going to fix my home.

///

== Angel tablet trial #3: a Fallen angel's grace ==

When he gets to Heaven, Cas sees Naomi, "dead." He realizes what's up, but Metatron, for all his talk about choices, does not give Castiel a choice here. He shackles him to the chair and forces him to complete the spell.

METATRON: "She told you I lied, didn't she?"

Metatron is now in the role of Naomi, perpetuating his family anger--Revenge. The final trial is taking the grace of the Father of the illegal, blended family.

The Fallen Angel, but the one who Loves Humanity.

METATRON: These were never trials, Castiel. This is a spell. What' I'm taking from you now, your essence, your grace, is the last piece.

///

Meanwhile, the human remnants of the family flounder, temporarily clinging (correctly) to human weakness and support instead of war and revenge. ("I'd let the sons of bitches who killed mom walk.")

Love is a tremendous force, and the human family forgives. (Heaven family does not.)

In modern times, Churches WANT to represent Forgiveness--very unlike Metatron's bitter, bitter Revenge. For a while, it will be about not holding score, and forgiveness, but as we will see, that's much easier said than done, especially within family units.

///

== Protecting the family hurt the family ==

Metatron used Castiel's horror and fear for the safety of his human family, so horrifically threatened by Heaven, to draw him into a trap.

Now, the opposite of what he wanted to is happening.

His Heaven family is screaming and dying, again, and as they come crashing down, their fight spills towards his vulnerable human family.

///

So, what of the Angel Tablet now?

It's a little on the back-burner, but it still represents Castiel's heart in many ways. Kevin searches the tablet, looking for a way to reverse the spell, just as Castiel keeps trying to make up for what he's done.

This is what sets him apart from John Winchester--this tenacity to keep trying. (With Heaven, with Winchester family, with Claire Novak.)

In season 9, we'll see Castiel begin to understand his heart even more intimately, as he's broken down to his most basic pieces, "without the bells and whistles."

///

(Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)

15 notes · View notes

cherry-vennom · 2 years

Text

#self love #affirmations #awareness #perspective #alignment #yin #naomi campbell #words #uploads

5 notes · View notes

girlzoot · 4 months

Text

He decided to walk into danger because he thought he was enough, and now he is in danger and it is clear to him that he has never been enough and it is unbearable. —Naomi Alderman/The Power

#Naomi Alderman #The Power #danger #fear #self awareness

0 notes

missmorgenstern · 1 year

Text

📚Cover update 📚

I’m so excited to announce the cover for Until Now is COMPLETE and I cannot wait to share it.

🔥watch this space🔥

#until now #until now novel #Naomi speakman #debut #debut novel #indie author #self publication #self publishing #kdp publishing #new adult #new adult books #new release #upcoming releases #book writing #book quotes #words of wisdom #domestic violence awareness

1 note · View note

trippinsorrows · 15 days

Text

looking through your eyes + sixteen

authors note: healing is not linear. regression, sadly, is a part of the process. and ultimately, if someone wants to hurt themselves, they will find a way to do so.

*this chapter contains extremely triggering content. please ensure to read all content/trigger warnings to make an informed decision regarding your mental state and ability to consume the following work of fiction. your mental wellbeing is forever and always more important than any story.*

cw/tw: heavy angst, violence, torture, ptsd episode, victim blaming, reference to childhood sexual assault, thoughts and urges of self-harm, suicide attempt

gentle reminder that you can call or text the free, confidential 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 anytime, 24/7.

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

masterlist

words: 8k

“I–I just want to see him. Please—”

It’s got to be the third or even fourth time she’s tried to ask, pleading with her husband’s Wise Man to let her see her husband.

It was hard enough to get Solo to agree to take her to where Roman is, a medical clinic that’s clearly only open to tend to him and any other Bloodline member injured in the shootout. That’s evident by the lack of anyone present outside of an impressive number of Bloodline security.

An uninjured Bayley and Naomi met her at the house shortly after she arrived with Solo, and while she was pleased to see they were okay, to hear that Jimmy and Jey also made it out uninjured, the man she cares about the most is ironically the man she seems incapable of checking on.

She can’t find a way to settle her anxiety, continuing to play the scene of him shot, outside of her head.

That’s why she needs to see him.

She has to see him.

Paul sighs, and there’s irritation evident both in his tone and facial expression. “Solana, I don’t think—hey!”

Fuck it.

He’s silenced by Solana rushing past him, nearly knocking him over in the process. Eyes wide with shock, he stammers, looking just as bewildered as the security guards around him. “Well, don’t just stand there, stop her!”

The men rush to run after her, Solana well aware of the fact that the likelihood of her outrunning them is slim to none.

Doesn't mean she can’t try.

It’s a silly thought though because of course security would be up and down every hall of the clinic, sets of hardened eyes falling on her, ready to attack when they realize who she is. It changes the dynamic a bit. Expressions still stoic and lethal but also confused.

Solana freezes only for a bit as she forces out her request, a poorly delivered demand, really to the guards that line the hall that she suspects house the room Roman is being treated in.

“I need to see my husband.” No one says anything, two of them sharing an expression as Solana decides to try her luck again, knowing that they wouldn’t actually shoot her, trying to sprint past them.

She’s unlucky this time though because one of the guards catches her, restraining her. This makes her tense up almost immediately, fear rising up yet again for the thousandth time tonight.

“Let go of me!” Solana tries to wiggle her way out of the iron grasp, eager and almost needing to get these strange male hands off of her, such a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she feels when it’s Roman who has his hands on her. “I need to see Roman! Please!”

The man holding her and probably pulling her away from the direction of Roman’s room says nothing, just continues to ignore her demands to be released.

“Man, what the hell you doing!”

Solana’s head snaps to the side as she lays eyes on an enraged Jimmy who stalks over, his mere presence and tone causing the man to release her. Solana gasps a bit as Jimmy grabs the man by his collar and slams him against the wall. “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again! You lucky it’s me here and not Roman cause he’d already have a bullet in your head for touching his wife!”

Jimmy looks around, shouting, “that goes to all of ya’ll asses!” He points to Solana. “She asks for Roman, you take her to fucking Roman, alright?”

Bowed heads of shame and a sudden focus on the laminate flooring of the clinic, Solana is relieved when Jimmy walks over, voice calmer, motioning her to follow him. “Come on, Soso.”

Solana wants to ask Jimmy if he’s okay, inquire about Jey, make sure that they’re okay. Bayley and Naomi already told her as such, but they don’t know that. It’s just what’s most polite and appropriate, but all she can think about is Roman and laying eyes on him.

She needs to see him.

And as awful as it may sound, she cares more about making sure her husband is okay before anyone else.

Caught up in her thoughts, she misses when Jimmy knocks on a door in a rhythmic pattern, followed by Jey cracking the door open.

Jimmy sucks his teeth. “Man, open the door. It’s Soso.”

Solana, however, has no desire to wait any longer and finds herself, pushing on the door, forcing Jey to stumble back. “Damn, girl!”

She’s not listening though, uninterested in apologizing because she’s focused on something else.

Focused on someone else.

An older man with blonde hair pulled back, dressed way too casually to be a medical professional seems to be finishing up bandaging her husband who stands only feet away, shirtless, revealing the shoulder tourniquet that conceals the wound. The place where he was hurt.

Where he was shot.

Emotion renews, and a new set of tears reload as she finds herself moving over to him, pressing her body into his, doing her best to avoid touching his left shoulder. Her eyes shut, tears spilling over when she feels Roman’s hand on the small of her back.

“Get out.” It’s directed to the twins and who Solana would guess is the doctor who treated his wound, that last thing being what causes her to pull away, to look over at the stranger.

“No. You—you have to help him—”

The man chuckles and removes the blue latex gloves from his hands. “Lil lady, that’s a job only the big Man Himself can handle.” She frowns a bit as the man with striking blue eyes and an almost country accent explains, “He’ll be fine. Bullet went straight through. Didn't hit any bones, artery, or organs. If he takes it easy for a couple weeks, he'll be good as new. That’s assuming, however, he actually follows the doctor’s orders for once.”

It’s that last sentence that makes Solana wonder if this is the same doctor who diagnosed Roman with high blood pressure and medicated him for it. It makes sense.

But, it’s when they’re alone that the waterworks seem to really come out, Solana unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry—this—this is all my fault.” She cries, Roman gently cradling her face as she shakes her head. “You–you got hurt because of m-me-.”

Roman looks thoroughly confused, asking, “what are you talking about?”

There’s such a heaviness in her stomach and on her chest. She doesn’t want to do this. God, she really doesn’t want to. But, it’s her not doing this in the first place that landed them where they are.

“Roman…..” She closes her eyes. This is so much harder than she thought it would be, and she never thought it would be easy per se, but she also didn’t think it would be this damn painful. “My—my father. He…he wanted our marriage to happen so—so that I—” It’s like knives splitting and slicing the back of her throat as she forces out, “he wanted me to kill you.”

If Roman has a strong or visceral reaction to her dark confession, he doesn’t show it. His expression remains unreadable, maybe a bit of concern, but that was present the minute he laid eyes on her.

“And he said that if I didn’t do it, then he–he would kill me, and that’s w–why you got hurt tonight, because—because of me, because I didn’t say anything.” A fresh set of tears generate as she desperately tries to help him and make him believe her as she explains, “but, I—I was never going to—I could never—I’d rather die than do anything to h–hurt you.”

And it’s the truth.

She would have rather him let the bullet hit her than him.

It’s not fair he had to pay for her actions. Or lack, in this case.

“Solana.” He cuts her off, gentle, voice much calmer than she anticipated in response to such a confession. “I already knew.”

And just like that, she’s back to not breathing again, rendered nearly incapable of speech as she stammers out a response, “w–what?”

Roman sighs deeply, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I always knew your father was up to something. I’m far from stupid. He was too eager and pushy to make the marriage happen. It was obvious he had ulterior motives.” His eyes squint a bit, as he asks her, “why you think one of the first things I did when we got married was cut off contact between the two of you, huh? Whatever he was planning, I wasn’t gonna let him use you to do it.”

Roman’s words together make a logical, sensical sentence, but it’s the processing of it that she struggles with. Roman knew. He knew all along that her father was planning something.

And yet he said nothing.

He has no reaction.

He continues, admitting, “I didn’t know specifically what he had planned, but it doesn’t really make a difference. Murder. Coup d'etat. He wasn't the first, and he won’t be the last.” It’s the casual way he says it that Solana feels so conflicted about, so stunned how he can be so calm about constant threats against his life, against his empire. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, and it probably won’t be the last time.”

“Don’t say that.” She whispers. The trauma and shock of seeing him shot was bad enough, and seeing he appears okay is relieving, but the thought of it happening again feels almost unbearable.

“Solana, you know what I am and what I do. But, it’s like I told you before, I have a tendency to not die, which pisses people off.” His delivery towards the end manages to make her smile. It’s small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. “There it is….” His thumb brushes away some of her tears. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I don’t like seeing you upset.”

She noticed. The same way she doesn’t like to see him hurt. For him to be anything other than okay.

Roman’s eyes shift into something softer as he asks, “why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a question born from curiosity versus the accusatory nature she would expect from someone who was just told their wife was sent to kill them.

It’s a bit of a difficult one to answer too. “I was—I was scared. At the beginning of our marriage, I—I was scared what you would do to me if—if I told you.”

There’s an almost pained look that flashes across his face as he vows, “Solana, you know I would never—”

“I know. I know that now.” She stresses, gently cutting him off. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Roman would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. “But, I—I didn’t then. And….I think I just—I didn’t want to think about it, because things were going good and—and I hadn’t seen him in so long, but I was wrong—and I should have said something sooner—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He’s the one to cut her off this time, shaking his head. “But Solana, your father has crossed a line this time. He tried to kill you.” Roman’s eyes are blazing with with the flame of anger and fury, a desire for vengeance clearly dancing at the forefront of his mind. “I know I told you I wouldn’t kill him until you told me—”

“I don’t care,” she affirms, voice darkening into something also angry. “He—he tried to take you from me. I don’t—I don’t care what happens to him anymore. Him or Wes.”

Because while she doesn’t know the status of her brother and his recovery, Wes was just as involved with the evil plan, so what went down tonight had to have some influence from him in one way or another. It makes him just as guilty.

Roman nods and kisses her temple. He then calls out, “Jey.” It’s loud enough for his cousin to hear, opening the door and asking, “what’s up?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate. “Get me Miller. Just Xavier.” Solana must look curious as he explains, “your brother isn’t well enough yet. I want him back to health, so I can prolong his torture.” It paints a picture of a brutal, gruesome ending, but she can’t find it in her to be repulsed. Whatever hope she had for her brother is clearly long gone, if it was ever there.

“You got it.” Jey nods and closes the door as Solana places her hand on Roman’s forearm, drawing his attention down to her.

“I—I want to talk to him before—-” She swallows, asking, “please?”

Roman nods. “Of course.” She’s thankful for his agreement but not entirely surprised. He breaks away from her, countenance shifts into something stoic and determined.

“This ends tonight.”

________

Solana’s introduction to the place where her husband has probably taken and ended more lives than she’d like to admit is definitely a one and done thing. The atmosphere alone is so dark and depressing that if not for her hand in his and him walking closely alongside her, she might even find herself a bit scared.

But his presence along with her determination to get in her final words to her father manage to carry her over.

She’s also both surprised and relieved when she sees Bayley and Naomi also present. She’s unable to ask them about their presence because Roman is already explaining, “I know you don’t want to be home alone tonight, and I’m not making it back anytime soon.”

She nods, not needing to know why. The edge in his voice is all the telling she needs.

Solana’s stomach drops a bit when she’s taken to her father, strapped to a chair, hands and wrists tied. His face is bruised up, cut, and bleeding. Her eyes must give away her curiosity, Jimmy answering, “he fell.”

Jey suddenly punches him in the side of his head. “Ain’t that what you said when you and your boy was beating on your own fucking daughter?”

Solana swallows. Yes. That’s often what he said to cover up the result of their abuse.

Solana drops her hand and steps a bit closer to him, Roman not once moving or ripping his eyes away from them. It’s virtually impossible for Xavier to do anything to her, but she understands her husband is not willing to take any risks, regardless.

She ignores the weapons and items around her, no doubt intended for unspeakable acts of violence and torture. She just focuses on the man before her, taking in the fact that this is the last time she’ll ever stare into his dark eyes and have to look at his evil face.

“All—all I ever wanted….was for you to love me.” She hates the emotion that chunks up the back of her throat, making it a bit harder for her to speak. “But you never did, and you never will, and—and that’s okay.” She recalls one of the many powerful, profound quotes from her book, reciting it boldly and confidently. “Your inability to love me is not a reflection on my ability to be loved.” She’d like to say she witnesses some type of emotional reaction in her father at her powerful statement, but there’s nothing there.

There never was.

Stepping back, she takes one final look at him, accepting this is the end of this road. The end of all the hurt and pain he’s ever caused her. After tonight, it’s all over. “Goodbye, Dad.”

Solana is back by Roman, taking her hand in his as Xavier’s small, dark laughter draws her attention back to him.

“Didn’t you ever wonder how they bypassed the security system? Both times?”

Solana’s brows are furrowed, confusion dancing in her eyes. Before she can say anything, Roman barks a rough order to the twins, “gag him!”

One glance at him, and she sees something unfamiliar, something that looks strangely close to nervousness.

To fear.

“No,” she finds herself calling out, stopping Jey who was halfway close to doing just that, bandana in his right hand. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Solana, he’s just trying to fuck with your head.” She hears Roman, feels his slight tug on her sleeve as he tries to pull her away, but she also detects something else.

Avoidance.

Roman is intentionally trying to divert her away from this conversation, topic, whatever it is.

Xavier chuckles cruelly, coughing up a bit of blood. “I warned that bitch. I told her what would happen if she tried to take Wesley away from me.”

Now…now he has Solana’s full attention.

She steps toward him, asking again, “what are you t–talking about?”

“Solana, please—”

But, she continues to ignore Roman and instead focuses on whatever it is her father is about to drop on her, something she feels is about to change everything.

Xavier’s bloody smile is cruel and taunting as he reveals, “I was the one who ordered the hit on your mother.” And before she can even sit on that, another bomb is dropped. “And you.”

Solana staggers back, jerking away from Roman as he reaches to touch her. Her mouth is dropped, her heartbeat erratic. She all of a sudden feels dizzy, but it doesn’t stop her from asking again, “what—what did you just say?”

“Shut him up, Jey!”

“No!” Solana shouts both at her husband and his cousin. “I want to know!”

“Your mother was planning to take you and Wesley away from me, and truth be told, if she left Wesley and just took you, I probably wouldn’t have given a fuck. But no, she wanted both of her children. She was a problem, so I got rid of her.” Each word that leaves his mouth has Solana wanting to sink further and further into the ground. “The hit was for both of you, but of course, you fucking survived.” The venom in his voice and hatred in his eyes is almost palpable, further deepening the pain of this betrayal. “I refused to pay them the full amount since they botched the job and didn’t kill you, but that still left the balance for your mother….the balance you paid for me.” And with the most vile smile of all, he adds on coarsely, “who’d have thought a kid’s virginity would sell so high?”

And it’s that statement. That cruel, vindictive statement that breaks her.

Hand to her stomach, Solana almost collapses to the floor but Roman is behind her, catching her fall.

Now that she can focus on him, on anything other than the millions thoughts racing through her mind. Random facts and statements finally coming together, painting a horrific, grim picture.

The failure of the security system both times.

The failed pin entry of her mom’s shaking hands and two years later, Solana’s shaking hand, as they desperately tried to enter the panic room, only for it to flash a red rejection notice.

It was him the whole time.

He killed her mother. He was the one responsible for her rape.

All of it.

Emotions erupt to the surface as Solana tries to break from Roman’s embrace and lunge for her father.

“I hate you!” She screams, unable to think and see beyond her pain. “I fucking hate you!” She can’t stop trying to break Roman’s solid grip on her. She wants to hit him. Wants to stab him. Burn him. Anything and everything that can make him feel just a fraction of her agony. “How could you do that to me!” She cries, wanting, needing an answer. Needing to know why. “I was a child!” She’s never felt something so heavy, so painful. “I was your child!”

As her physical resolve breaks, more diminishes than anything, Solana feels Roman trying to guide her away.

But it’s a mistake, it’s a mistake because she uses that slice of an opening to break away from him and snatch one of the guns on a table, pointing it at her father’s head. But then, she’s not. She’s not because Roman is suddenly standing between her and her target.

Her resolve falters for a bit, as she shouts at him, “move!”

Jimmy’s furious voice calls out. “Man, let her do it, Roman!”

Roman’s gaze is fiery as he silences his cousin with a shout. “Shut up!” But just as quickly as he was enraged, his expression softens almost inhumanly quickly as he pleads, “Solana, listen to me—”

She’s not trying to hear it though. She can’t hear it. “He killed my mother! My mother!”

“I know,” his expression softens into something solemn and sympathetic. “But you don’t want to do this—“

She snaps, her fingers on the gun tightening, her grip firm and focused. “He needs to die!”

“And he will, I promise you that. Slowly. Gradually. In the agonizing way that he deserves, but that can only happen if you let me do this for you—”

Solana cries, shoulders dropping but her aim still intact. “He let them rape me.” Her body trembles, a combination of her heartache and inconsolable rage. “He took her from me! She was my mother!”

If not for the severity and all around heightened tensions, Solana would notice the heartbreaking and furious expressions of the twins, Bayely, and Naomi who now know the exact horror she has experienced. The reason for her disposition. The source of her trauma.

Roman, however, remains focused on de-escalating the situation. “I know, baby, but you’re not a killer, Solana, and I’m not about to let you become one.” If she was thinking straight, capable of thinking clearly in this moment, she’d know he’s only protecting her. Only trying to save her from the thing she told him not even a week ago she could never forgive herself for. Taking someone’s life. “Once you do this, there’s no turning back.”

Solana’s eyes shut as another round of tears makes its way to the surface, heavier and harder to manage with the gun in her hand.

Roman notices this and takes a tentative step forward. “Please, Solana.” His tone is almost desperate, borderline begging. “Give me the gun.”

Eyes still closed and with a weakness she hasn’t felt in years, Solana relents, loosening her grip, allowing Roman to take the gun that he quickly hands to Jey. He moves to catch her as she falls into his chest, sobbing again. Roman cradles her head and kisses the top of her hair while Jimmy and Jey move to jump Xavier, taking that opportunity to get blows in on the old man, both careful to avoid any that could be lethal.

It’s obvious this son of a bitch is in line for a world of suffering that will extend far past tonight.

“Oh, we finna take our time killing you, motherfucker.”

Everything sounds a bit distant. The sound of the twins yelling obscenities at the demon she called a father. Roman trying to comfort her, to settle her. It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. The crying settles into something sullen and solemn, silent tears streaming down her face as she murmurs against him, “I want to go home.”

The emotion is there, but her presence and awareness of everything is diminishing. Solana knows what’s coming, has experienced this state of separation, of dissociating.

She needs to get away.

Roman says something she can’t make out, and before she realizes it, there’s another set of arms around her. Bayley. Naomi is chatting with Roman, the only thing she’s able to make out,

‘Don’t leave her alone.’

Alone.

She’s not sure she’s ever felt that as strongly as she does at this moment.

________

It’s all such a blur.

Such a separate thing. Emotions separate from her. Emotions that are dark, heavy, confusing, overwhelming. Fleeting. There’s an oscillation of all the feelings. Tears that accompany heartache. Sobbing that accompanies grief. Nothing that arrives with nothing.

It’s a brutal, miserable experience of feeling the weight of the world but also the emptiness of the void.

It’s obvious that Naomi and Bayley don’t know how to help her, don’t know how to comfort her, just continue to sit with her, letting her cry when she needs to and scream when she has to. Even Dulce sits by her side, whimpering every so often and licking her.

It’s appreciated. So appreciated.

But….it’s not enough.

Losing her mother was heartbreaking. Losing her in the way she did, so violently and graphically was torture.

Being held down and gang raped by two grown men at twelve years old nearly killed her. They nearly killed her.

But, there’s something about finding out that her father, her biological father, was responsible for those two things that’s almost impossible to believe.

She knew her father was cruel.

She just didn’t know just how cruel until this very evening.

Escape.

Her mother was trying to escape, trying to make a better life for herself and her children. And he killed her for it.

Tried to kill Solana too, and when that didn’t work, he traded her virginity in exchange for payment.

Flashes. Glimpses. Images.

They’ve been hitting her nonstop since the truth came out. Playing in her mind like some kind of sick horror film. It’s torture. It’s painful. It’s unbearable.

It’s too much.

She places her hands on the bathroom counter, having finished using the bathroom after waking up yet again from night terrors.

Her eyes shut.

Solana is tired.

So so tired. Tired of the pain. Of the lies. Of the betrayal. Everything hurts. Everything feels so heavy. She tries to escape in sleep, but the memories haunt her and suddenly, she’s reliving it all, but now with the horrific knowledge that the first man who should have ever loved and protected her was responsible for her biggest traumas.

And it’s impossible to escape those flashes, those thoughts and flashbacks becoming more frequent and intrusive by the minute. She’s suffocating.

Drowning in her own head.

Drowning in her own body.

Solana’s eyes open and fall over to the shower where her razor would have been available if not for her earlier strength and ability to hand it and the brand new box of them over to Bayley and Naomi.

Just an hour or two ago, she was able to do that much. Able to resist that temptation and not break years of sobriety.

But, now…. now she can’t.

She doesn’t even want to.

That would only provide a temporary escape.

She’s just….just so tired.

She wants….needs something longer.

Something more permanent.

Unable to escape the mental anguish, Solana leans down and digs through a toiletries bag from the trip she hasn’t unpacked.

And she pulls out the bottle of sleeping pills.

Roman’s request from months ago returns, smacking into her.

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Her eyes water.

Roman….

Even with his lack of being honest with her, of somehow knowing but not telling her the truth, there’s never been a person that she’s loved more than him. Not since her mom.

It’s why she can’t call him. Can’t continue to burden him with having to deal with all her shit.

All she’s done since entering his life is make shit difficult. She’s done it with him. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey.

All of them.

They’ve had to adjust so much just for her, and for what? For her to end up right back where she started?

She can’t….she can’t do that to them again.

She can’t do that to Roman again.

She loves him too much for that, loves him too much to continue to hurt him.

She just….she just needs to remove herself from the equation.

Needs to remove herself from all of their lives.

Forever.

Shaking hands twist off the cap as she dumps a handful of pills into her trembling palm.

There’s the briefest second of a delay, a moment where she reconsiders, where she wonders if she’s making the right decision. But another flashback hits her, the feeling of the knife slicing through her mother’s lifeless body and entering Solana ripping her away from that reconsideration.

Another thought of Roman and her friends having to help her yet again.

Save her again.

She can’t do it anymore. She doesn’t want to do it anymore.

There is no saving her anymore.

This is the only way.

And she swallows, using the water bottle on the counter to force the excessive amount of pills down her throat. A brief glance at her reflection brings on another set of silent tears. Broken. Empty. There’s nothing left for her to do, no reason for her to exist anymore.

Not even bothering to put the pills away, Solana walks out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom where Bayley is the first to ask, still sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, dedicated to staying awake for her ‘shift’, completely unaware of this being the last time they’ll interact. “Do you need something?”

Solana shakes her head and climbs back onto the bed. Grabbing her phone, ignoring the tears that blur her vision, she types out a simple text to the one person she’ll miss the most.

She’ll miss them all, but none more than him.

Solana: I’m sorry.

Sent and delivered, she locks her phone, placing it on the nightstand, closing her eyes.

Solana just wants to go to sleep.

And this time…..not wake up.

________

Rage.

Fury.

Wrath.

And any word synonymous to anger, yet none of them adequately describe what’s coursing all throughout Roman’s body. Years. It’s been years since he’s felt this much anger, held so much of it that he has a hard time thinking and feeling.

He’s incapable of escaping the sound of Solana’s sobbing, the way she literally fell apart in front of him, breaking before him.

And it’s all because of the son of a bitch currently underneath him on the receiving end of devastating blow after blow of Roman’s brass knuckled fists. How long he’s been hitting the old man is beyond him. Not long enough.

It’ll never be long enough.

Never painful enough.

Not for what he’s done.

A hand on his uninjured shoulder temporarily pulls him away from his newfound life mission to make this piece of shit feel every type of pain imaginable before he takes his last breath.

Roman’s roar bounces off the walls. “What!”

Jey looks unfazed by Roman’s irate tone and instead advises, “he’s unconscious, Uce. Let up or you gon kill him.”

That’s the fucking goal.

But not yet. Death is too sweet for Xavier to receive at this point.

Huffing and suddenly aware of all the energy expended as well as the blood splattered all over his clothes and face, Roman tosses the knuckles to the side and issues an order to Jey even while walking, refusing to acknowledge any appreciation for his warning, “let me know when Jimmy has them.”

Them.

Them being the two men who have no idea what kind of horror awaits them. Men whose names were tortured out of Xavier pretty easily by Roman.

Rapists.

Solana’s rapists.

Reaching the locker room in the back, Roman easily strips himself naked and steps in the shower, allowing the water to rain down his body, red mixing with clear and disappearing down the drain. Hands against the shower wall, he shuts his eyes.

He can’t escape the sound of Solana’s wails. He’s never heard or seen her so upset. Never wanted to. It’s the exact reason he settled on not telling her the truth, because he knew this would happen.

Knew this would destroy her.

It’s just the extent of the destruction that worries him.

Just how far back this has set her that has him feeling something he hasn’t felt in years but has now experienced twice tonight. Once when he saw the hand raised and gun lifted in Solana’s direction and now her breakdown.

Fear.

It has him scared.

And Roman doesn't know what to do with that emotion, doesn’t know how to handle it outside of beating the shit out of and torturing her father and rapists. But even that only does so much.

It doesn’t do enough, because she’s hurting, more than she probably ever has, and he can’t do shit about it.

Because making the fuckers who hurt her suffer doesn’t do shit for the pain she’s experiencing now.

And he hates that shit. Hates that she’s hurting and he can’t help her, take away that pain from her.

With all the frustration in his body, Roman slams his fist into the shower wall, forcing himself to calm down just enough to get cleaned up.

He uses a fresh set of clothes in the lockers to redress himself, redoing his bandages and using a towel to dry off his hair as best as possible.

But, it’s when Jey comes and seems to interfere with Roman starting his next round of torture, a thought of starting to skin the old man sounding more than desirable, that his frustration multiplies.

“Not now.”

Roman continues to walk when he feels Jey forcefully grab his arm, forcing him to turn around. Roman looks at his hand and then back at Jey. “Have you lost—”

“Roman.”

But, it’s the tone that stops the Head of the Table from issuing out his threat. In all the years he’s known Jey, he’s never heard his cousin use such a heavy, spooked tone.

“What?” There’s hesitation, and that only pisses Roman off. “What!”

Jey swallows, answering with an almost pained countenance. “Solana’s at the hospital.” Jey’s frown, sadness seeped and imbued into his usual gregarious voice. “She tried to kill herself, Roman.”

________

Three.

There’s now been three separate occurrences in a single day that have caused Roman to experience the emotion most unfamiliar to him.

Fear.

And this third time, it’s the strongest it’s ever been as he marches into the hospital floor where he was informed she was.

“Where is she!”

And when his gaze lands on a clearly disturbed and crying Naomi and Bayley, the anger only grows as he moves over to them. “What the fuck happened!” Roman doesn’t give them time to respond, too consumed with his anger that’s truly a mask hiding his fear. “Why weren’t you watching her! I fucking told you to watch her!”

Bayley is the first to shoot up from her chair, eyes watery but scowl intact. “We were! She—”

But, he’s not trying to hear shit what she has to say. Not when they’ve failed him in the worst way possible. “Obviously you fucking weren’t because we’re standing in a goddamn hosptal–”

Jimmy, who Roman had completely forgotten came along with him, Jey as well, does his best to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roman, you need to calm—”

But the Head of the Table is too far gone, harshly shrugging off his cousin’s innocent attempt at calming him down. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Roman removes himself from their presence, not even wanting to see these useless bitches as he calls out once again. “Where is she!”

It’s only then he sees a blonde woman walk out from the back, dressed in a white coat, clipboard in hand. She looks irritated which only pisses him off because how the fuck do you work at a fucking hospital and look annoyed. But, when she sees him, or maybe sees how irate he is, her gaze softens.

She steps in his direction as Roman also steps toward her, putting some distance between himself and the group. “Mr. Reigns, can—”

“Where is my wife?” It’s the same question he will keep asking until it no longer needs to be asked because he’s taken to her.

The woman, doctor, probably, frowns, motioning to the back. “Can we talk in private?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best not to violate his code of never putting his hands on a woman. But, this bitch is really fucking pushing it.

He just wants to see Solana.

He needs to see her.

“You’ve got three fucking seconds to take me—”

She scoffs, relenting and “Fine, we’ll do it here. Your wife is in recovery. We were able to successfully pump her stomach, but we had to sedate her because she was inconsolable upon waking up. I suspect she’s in the midst of some sort of psychotic episode.”

There’s so much in that sentence to process. Roman doesn’t even know where to begin to dissect it, so he starts with the part that pisses him off the most. “She tried to overdose on pills and your solution was to put more fucking medicine in her?”

The doctor, however, seems to show no sign of backing down. “My patient needed to be stabilized, so I stabilized her.” Her voice softens a bit as she adds, not necessarily as something to throw in his face but rather an important note he shouldn’t ignore. “If you had seen how upset she was, you would have understood.”

Roman, however, can’t think about that. Can’t think about how upset and terrified Solana must have been. Somehow a level calmer, he expresses once again, “I want to see her.”

“I understand, but—”

Right away, Roman knows his brief respite from level 10 rage is about to be broken by whatever she’s about to say. “What?”

She takes a deep breath, informing, “I’m putting her on a 5250 hold.”

Roman looks from side to side. “What the fuck does that mean?”

There’s no sign of hesitation as she explains, “it means I’m keeping her here in the hospital for two weeks on a legally mandated psychiatric hold.”

Yeah….he was absolutely right.

Level fucking 10.

“Like hell you are!” Roman is seeing red. Who in the flying fuck does this bitch think she is to say Solana is staying in the hospital? “She’s coming home with me. Tonight. The minute she fucking wakes up.”

And that’s a fact.

“How much do you know about Solana’s psychiatric history?” A lot, and that’s why he knows she doesn’t need to stay here in this forbidding, sterile place. She needs to be home with him so he can take care of her. “This is her second suicide attempt. Now, I don’t know what the hell happened to trigger this psychotic break, but your wife is severely and actively suicidal.” She lowers her voice, softly and almost sympathetically sharing with him so only he can hear. “She was inconsolable because she was upset we saved her life. She was upset she was still alive.”

That’s it.

The thing that makes Roman’s anger crumble almost entirely.

He wanted to believe it was a mistake, an accident of some sort. Didn’t want to believe that she truly intended to take her life tonight.

But this woman has no reason to lie, and beyond that, he’s innately adept at deciphering when someone is lying and when they’re being truthful.

She’s not lying.

Solana wanted to die.

Solana wanted to actually die.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that information.

At all.

The crack in his harsh exterior must be evident, because the doctor continues to try to convince him what he now knows probably is the right thing to do. “You can get her to sign an AMA and take her home, but I guarantee you that she’ll end up right back in this hospital for another attempt…..and the next time might be too late.”

He can’t.

Roman can’t lose her. He can’t even let himself think about what he would do if he lost her.

Especially if it was because of her own actions.

She continues, desperate, “let us get her stabilized. On a medication regimen. As I said, this presents as a brief psychotic episode, which we can help her manage and treat but only if you let us keep her here to monitor her.”

Roman tilts his head back, eyes closed as he scratches his beard. There’s an unfamiliar weight in his chest and stomach at the thought of having to leave this hospital tonight without Solana. But this isn’t about what he wants, it’s about what’s best for Solana.

It’s about what she needs, and he’ll do whatever he has to do to make sure she gets the help she needs.

“Jey.” His cousin steps up, previously keeping a respectful distance. “Get with security. I don’t want a son of a bitch that’s not Bloodline or Bloodline vetted to step foot on this floor while she’s here.”

Jey nods. “You got it.”

Roman overhears footsteps followed by the woman speaking again, “Thank you.” She takes another deep breath and informs, “Now, it’s standard practice that we not allow visitors the first couple days—“

And just like that, the anger has returned, even more intense now that he knows Solana isn’t getting released tonight. Or anytime soon. “I don’t give a fuck about your standard practice—”

Bayley’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, Roman aware that the remaining group has stepped forward, obviously wanting to be aware of the plan and what happens now. “Roman, can you please just let Dr. Stratus do her fucking job? This isn’t about—”

Bayley, however, chose the wrong time to fuck with him. Because any filter he ever acquired because of Solana certainly won’t be used until she’s back home, with him, where she belongs. “Like you were supposed to? Solana wouldn’t be here if you were watching her like I fucking told you to! This is your fault!”

There’s a small, minute part of him that feels bad when he sees the devastation on Bayley’s face, but it’s short lived, vastly overpowered by his tremendous anger.

And fear.

Bayley is quick with the response though, ready and willing to aim just as low as he is. “Fuck you, Roman! You don’t get to blame this on us! You should have fucking told her! You had no right to keep the truth from her! She’s here because of you!”

The dark irony in her accusation is that It’s nothing he doesn’t already know.

Nothing he doesn’t already hate himself for.

Bayley is absolutely right.

This absolutely is on him.

His attempts to save her only damned her.

“Stop it! Both of ya’ll! This don’t do shit to help, and Solana wouldn’t want ya’ll fighting!” Jimmy suddenly jumps in, moving between the two highly emotional people, even if both are only expressing it as anger. He turns to his cousin first, as Naomi tries to pull Bayley away, also working to de-escalate an already tense situation. “Look, Uce, I know you want to see her, but—”

“I’m not leaving without seeing her.” Roman’s gaze is on his cousin but it’s directed toward the doctor who either takes some type of mercy on him or recognizes that Roman will literally kill everyone who gets in his way if she doesn’t give in to his demand, because she’s switching her tune.

“A couple of minutes,” she relents. “But only you.”

Roman doesn’t care about the rest of them anyway. They can see her whenever they fucking see her.

He’s the one who needs to see her.

But, it’s in seeing her that a part of him wishes he didn’t. Because this isn’t right. She shouldn’t be laid up like this, unconscious, pale, such a sad expression on her sleeping face.

He hasn’t seen her like this since that first night he overheard and woke her up from her nightmare.

A nightmare.

He’d give anything for that to be the case again.

“I can’t lose you, Solana.” It's the first thing to leave his mouth, a plea and prayer. There’s nothing but vulnerability in his voice, and he doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll be as vulnerable as he needs to be for her. He’ll do anything for her. “I need you. I told you that, but I don’t think you understand how badly I need you.”

If there was any doubt before, it’s completely destroyed now. He doesn’t know how honest or comfortable he could be outside of these four walls, if it wasn’t just the two of them, but right now, with nothing but her steady breathing and rhythmic beating of the machines she’s plugged up to, he’ll pour his heart out.

“You can’t leave me, alright?” Roman’s hand moves to her forehead, thumb caressing her skin that feels too cold, doesn’t feel like her. “I don’t care what it takes, what you need, what I have to fucking do, but I need you to get better, and I’ll do anything to help you.”

And he will. It’s why despite how much he hates this notion of having to leave her, the almost anxiety he has at having to leave tonight without her in his arms, he’ll do it. He’ll do it because he just wants her to be happy.

She deserves that, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it to her.

His voice is thick with emotion. “I just need you to stay with me, baby, okay?” Not being able to see her pretty brown eyes, the curl of her full lips as she smiles, his favorite fucking thing in the world, it’s torture.

He never wants to see her like this again.

He can’t.

He won’t.

Roman kisses her forehead and forces himself to walk out of the hospital room, one of the hardest departures he’s ever had to do. Dr. Stratus is waiting outside the door, and just like that, the infamous stoic, unreadable expression is back.

With Solana, he’s just Roman.

But for everyone else, he’s the Tribal Chief.

There is no other option.

“No men on her care team. Women only.” If she’s going to be here, he’s going to make sure she

has everything she needs. “I want daily updates. Anything happens or changes with her status at all, I want to know. You understand me?”

Dr. Stratus must have also read the section in Solana’s medical records that alludes to her sexual trauma, because she doesn’t object. “Understood.” She swallows, bringing the medical chart to her chest. “You know…I head an inpatient women’s psychiatric clinic about an hour out. It’s not uncommon for patients like your wife to transition there following dis—”

“You can keep her on your two week hold, but she’s coming home with me as soon as that’s up. Try and get in my way, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

She’s wise to not push, smart to not try to stop him from leaving, because as far as Roman is concerned, there’s nothing and no one he’ll stop short from torturing, killing, and maiming if they try to get in his way of being with Solana.

He can’t live without her.

He loves her too much to live without her.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

170 notes · View notes

rowwiz · 6 months

Text

so is nobody else aware that L and Light's names are technical opposites of one another?

ok, so, this requires a lot of elaboration, so bear with me here. first thing to clarify is Light's name. without too much deliberation, Japan has this phenomenon (to my western understanding) wherein certain parents will name their children after English words. (this could potentially include other western languages; i am unsure.) as japanese is a syllabary, most of the time, these words cannot actually be pronounced properly in japanese. these names are often also written with presumably completely unrelated characters. light's name is one of these, having to be pronounced as "raito" in japanese, and written (as he so kindly explains to naomi) with "tsuki," the character for "moon." these names are called "kira-kira names." i am not joking. (that L never made a joke about light's name being literally a "kira-kira" name leaves me with a harrowingly destitute void in my soul.)

last thing we need to do is look at the translation for "Yagami," which approximates (to my knowledge!) as meaning "high," as in "high in power" (not "high" as in "stoned," because that's probably more like L's thing).

so, if we take an extrapolation of this, and replace light's names with their written functions—his forename as being a kira-kira name and being written as moon, and his surname (depending on how it's written) meaning "high"—we can evaluate an interpretation of light's name as being, extensively, "kira-kira moon high."

maybe my fellow death note crazies can see where i'm going with this. now, let's look at L's name, which is far more self-explanatory. his name is L Lawliet (in case you are somehow on the death note tags and were not already aware), which is pronounced "L low-light." (which, as s a side note, is a hilariously unintuitive pronunciation for his name, implying that Light (if he ever heard it) would almost certainly misspell it (made even more likely as a native japanese speaker, even given how good his english is) and potentially make him immune to a human using the death note by misspelling it six times.)

so, if we put the *phonetic* pronunciation of L's name next to the *written* extrapolation of light's, and reduce light's name to its logical conclusion, we get "L low light" and "Kira moon high." (hyphon in L's name and hyphon + second 'kira' in light's removed, as light himself is not both kiras, and removing the second kira also removes the hyphon in his name, whereafter we then logically can remove the hyphon in l's name. like homoerotic algebra.)

furthering the analogy, and allowing a little leniency (given all the other obvious similarities) that "light" can be taken as the opposite to "moon"—as in, "sunlight," and furthermore, "sun"—we output "L low sun" and "Kira moon high."

if you interpret L as the sun and Light as the moon, then congrats, it's already spelled out for you. if you interpret L as the moon and light as the sun, then it's like they carry the symbolic celestial analogies of one another in the other's name, which is some crazy soulmate shit. if you're like me, and interpret them as being both but in different ways, then both ways are true simultaneously. (to me, it speaks to how similar they ultimately are that you can interpret them as being both the sun and moon, albeit in different fashions.)

either way, they have gay ass little names and i can't believe i've never heard anybody talk about this before. so eat up, death note tumblr. enjoy your meal.

#lawlight #l lawliet #light yagami #death note #deathnote #gay men #lawlight easter egg #am i just wildly insane or was this intentional

396 notes · View notes

obsidianstrawberrymilk · 2 months

Text

Anyways I'm bored BSD no nuance hot takes

Yosano could probably beat pretty much everyone in the series with the exception of Fukuchi bc. Y'know

Dazai's not that hard of a character to understand if you've had depression from a relatively young age

Chuuya's not an alcoholic

He is gonna have heart problems when he gets older though

Kyouka's mischaracterization is so blatant in fandom but basically never bought up

Naomi and Junichiro have relatively equal amounts of focused screentime and development and in fact Naomi shows more initiative separate from Junichiro than he does from her

Also the theory she's a manifestation of his Ability has already been disproven

idk if this is even a hot take. Mori's not a predator. It's annoying and inaccurate and also boring as fuck to insist he is.

People write Ranpo too nice. Ya'll he's an asshole let him act like one.

Any problems people have with how Kunikida 'treats' Dazai are the same as how Chuuya treats Dazai and there's like zero argument there

Dazai wouldn't self harm

Atsushi's a great main character, one of the most interesting in the series, and does his damn job AS the main character

Chuuya's a good character, yes. There are also other fucking characters in this damn series than him and Dazai

Oda and Dazai pedestalized one another; this wasn't a healthy dynamic. However Oda really did understand Dazai in the end of Dark Era and WAS the reason Dazai was able to better himself and move away from a path that was gonna kill him and was one of the only people who could have convinced him to better himself.

The ADA-PM trade isn't gonna happen

Kunikida is both a well developed and fascinating character who's behaviors stem from stress, trauma, and likely high functioning mental illness, and is not as predictable as fandom makes him out to be

Also this isn't even a hot take but neither he nor Teruko are perma dead

Akutagawa did in fact Do That Shit. He did in fact Think That Way. He's having development but he does still believe the weak deserve to die and is only now learning not to have his instinctive reaction be murder. Like he can do what he wants but the fact his development is so good is undercut if you ignore how he started.

Also the PM is like. Not a good place? For anyone? Like the characters are sympathetic and we've been made aware of the complexities surrounding how it benefits the city but also as an organization and structure it's not at all healthy and BSD is. Pretty clear about that.

This fandom is like definition of "why are you going for moral simplicity in the nuance store" or however that post goes credit to the postmaker

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #kunikida doppo #kyouka izumi #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #mori ougai #fukuzawa yukichi #yosano akiko #ranpo edogawa #teruko okura #junichiro tanizaki #oda sakunosuke

96 notes · View notes

gracefully33 · 10 months

Text

Beauty/Fame Indicators🌟

* I’ll try to touchdown on everything as much as I can

* BASED OFF MY INTERPRETATION

* I get my info from professional astrologers and other places

—————————————————————————————————————————

Fame Degrees ✨💫

❤️5 Degrees in birth chart:

Your fame could be short term, could be famous since a young age, or fame from your beauty (bc 5 in numerology represents beauty).

Ex: Ariana Grande has her Cancer Sun at 5 degrees. Cancer represents the home, emotions, and more. The sun represents self expression, self awareness, etc. Ariana grande has been an actress since she was a child.

💛17 Degrees in birth chart:

The 17th degree represents long term fame. You could be famous for your influence over people, music, etc. depending on sign and its aspects.

Ex: Whether you like him or not, he is a great example of this. Chris Brown has his Taurus moon at 17 degrees. Taurus represents the throat and the moon represents the emotions. He is known for being a great singer and is very talented.

💚28 Degrees in birth chart:

This is known as a household name degree and you could still be remembered even if you fall off. In numerology, the 28th degree represents wealth also. Rihanna has this in her birth chart and she is a billionaire. Amerie the singer had a huge hit in 2005 called this “1 Thing”. Even though she fell off, people still remember her and play that song till this day, she’s wealthy, and she has the 28th degree in her chart. But today, we will be talking about Mrs. Nicki Minaj.

Ex: Nicki has her Libra Pluto and Capricorn mars at 28 degrees. Pluto represents change, transformation, and more. Libra rules partnerships but it also rules the color PINK and Barbie is associated with PINK. Capricorn represents hard work and great work ethic. Mars represents action, confidence, etc.

Nicki Minaj is known for her Barbie image and she was able to successfully transform that image over the years. Also, people made fun of Nicki for how she dressed in 2011/2012 with the crazy wigs and outfits but that image made her a millionaire(28th degree). Nicki Minaj started rapping on her block in 2000 like she was doing freestyles and everything. In 2003, Nicki Minaj debuted with a rap group called the “hood stars” and she started releasing her solo projects around 2008-2009. Nicki got rejected several times and people shut the door in her face but she kept going. It took Nicki Minaj more than 5 years just to make it in the music industry and I respect that she kept going no matter what.

💗29 Degrees in birth chart:

This represents long term fame but it is KARMIC. This type of fame is fame that teaches you a lesson and helps you to elevate. Don’t get the 29th degree is a karmic degree. In numerology(2+9=11), it represents influence over others because the number 11 is an influential number.

Ex: Naomi Campbell has her Gemini Venus and Neptune Scorpio at 29 degrees. Naomi’s Venus at 29 degrees gives her long term fame for her beauty. Scorpio represents sex appeal, being temperament, etc. Neptune represents glamour and hypnotic beauty. Naomi Campbell is known for being one of the most beautiful women in the world and one of the top models in the world. Naomi has also been known to be mean and temperamental to others like her assistant and more.

📱11 Degrees in birth chart:

This degree represents being influential and it’s a common degree found in a lot of social media influences birth chart. This degree in your birth chart can help you gain a following.

Ex: Madison Beer is a great example of this. Madison has her mars Scorpio at 11 degrees in her 6H. Besides her music, I don’t know too much about her but she is a very pretty girl. Scorpio can represent sex appeal, being magnetic, and seductive. Mars can represent desirability, lust, and confidence. Due to her Scorpio mars at 11 degrees being in her 6H, I will assume that she posts like everyday or used to post everyday. She could show case her everyday life a lot and she could be seen as someone who is as beautiful as a sirene on social media. It seems like her seduction can lure people in and cause people to be obsessed with her. Oh yea I just remembered! Every girl at one point was obsessed with her pretty she was and they wanted to be her. I would say her beauty and allure plays a huge part in her career and social media following. I could also conclude it is what causes people to be attached/obsessed with her.

* I might do a beauty indicator post on Madison because she’s very beautiful

#astro community #astrology #astrology tumblr #astro placements #beauty #astrology degrees #zodiac #degrees in astrology

159 notes · View notes

notbeyondbirthday · 11 months

Text

I feel like literally everyone forgets that Beyond Birthday convinced three sets of grieving family members to hire him alone to solve the murders he committed. Including the mother of a 13-year-old girl.

Do you think she would hire a failboy freak like Rue Ryuzaki portrayed himself to Naomi Misora to solve the murder of her baby? Out of all the reputable, well-known private detectives in the world, she agreed to hire someone with no real credentials. This was arguably the most tragic event in this woman's life. There is no way she just took a chance on Rue despite himself. He must have assured her of his competence and legitimacy somehow.

Beyond refers to himself as an 'extreme freak' compared to L, which suggests he possesses the self-awareness to adjust his behavior according to his goals. It's pretty clear as far as I'm concerned that Rue Ryuzaki is meant to be a caricature of L - his defining traits are flanderized versions of L's. He serves a distinct purpose, allowing Beyond to get close to Misora (and therefore L) so that he can manipulate the outcome of the investigation. He serves his purpose best if he comes off relatively harmless and not as capable as Misora herself.

I think that when Misora tells L that her impression of Rue is that he should've killed himself already, (damn girl that's pretty fucked up tbh) Beyond didn't get his feelings hurt at all. I think that's exactly what he wanted, right down to her relaying this to L.

I think it does Beyond Birthday's character a disservice to assume he's a one trick pony and that Rue's cringe loser persona and B's unhinged ramblings about L as he's planning his own suicide when he's alone demonstrate the extent of his range.

Getting hired to solve the cases of his own murder victims demands impression management. This man is undoubtedly capable of a certain degree of charisma if he chooses to use it. I think he becomes much more interesting when you consider that pretending to be someone else is one of his defining character traits and it's actually not clear where the act begins or ends in the novel.

#this isnt about anything in particular it's just a general petition to not take everything Beyond says and does as Rue at face value #though it is funny as hell #death note #beyond birthday #labb #death note another note #self

152 notes · View notes

selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 21 days

Note

KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!! KENJI MIYAZAWA WILL LIVE !!!!

Short ficlet.

Self-Aware! Platonic! Kenji Miyazawa x GN! Reader

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Somewhat spoilery.

____

You were silent, carefully observing Kenji with a side eye. A young detective, with his normal smile on a face, was moving heavy boxes with vegetables.

You read the last BSD Chapter a few hours ago. Junchirou choose to visit local gym and hit punching bag, Atsushi, with Lucy and Kyouka, take a picnic basket and went to the park to have a picnic. Naomi took Kirako on an "angry shopping trip"... Whatever it means.

Fukuchi and Fukuzawa hit the bar. At that point, it became a tradition for them.

Fyodor... He looked calm. But, still, he chose to go for a walk, to the nearest internet café and wrote rage bait posts to anger strangers on the Internet.

And all of them, before departing, were looking either angry, sad or... like they give up.

Kenji, on the other hand... He didn't say anything. He just chose to harvest vegetables from the farm.

There was no direct reason for you to be worried about him. But, there is no need for a reason to worry about friend.

"Kenji... Are you alright?" you tilted your head, trying to read Kenji's body language. The blonde detective looked at you, his smile became wider.

"I am fine, [Y/N]! Why I shouldn't be fine?" Kenji sounded genuinely confused. You spoke, carefully choosing your words.

"Well... The last chapter..."

Kenji, after putting the box down, walked closer to you.

"I am fine. And..." You immediately got crushed into a "bone-crushing-Kenji-style-bear-hug".

"Don't worry. I am here. I am alive."

You let out a breathy chuckle, hugging Kenji in return.

"I will try."

After a few more moments, Kenji let you go. Before he could leave, you grabbed his arm.

"However, I want to be sure, that you are okay... Do you want to visit a contact zoo?"

A huge smile and a nod was your answer.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #platonic #Self-Aware Kenji Miyazawa #bsd kenji

85 notes · View notes

mattapparentlystumbltourneys · 10 months

Text

Virtual Character Tourney - Round 5 - Bracket B Finals

Propaganda below (May contain spoilers!)

Dr. Coomer propaganda:

Dr. Coomer is the EMBODIMENT of a old and broken AI. Silly man, just a very old guy who has a crisis over realizing that he's in a game because he went out of bounds. He runs into the same trap/enemy constantly because of one area at the beginning of the game, explodes anything with the word explosive on it, cannot stop greeting the player, recites the entirety of the 2012 Wikipedia article for chairs because was was sitting in one, and is basically a permanent tutorial npc. Someone fix this man's code please.

he is so sentient it hurts

he's a broken tutorial npc who becomes aware that he's trapped in a game and repeatedly tries to escape. he wanted to be a boxer instead of a scientist. he wants to live in super punch out for the super nintendo entertainment system but instead he's stuck in half life. you wouldn't leave him in half life, gordon? fucking half life? let him ou-- HELLO, GORDON!

Ultraman X propaganda:

X canonically lost his physical form and lives in Daiichi's phone. His presence caused Daiichi's phone to turn gold, instead of the standard-issue silver the rest of XIO's employees have. It's possible for XIO's scientists to send powerups to X because he lives on Daiichi's phone. There's also a couple episodes where X gets trapped in cyberspace and Dr. Gourman and friends have to design something for Daiichi to help him escape. (Dr. Gourman is the first to notice Daiichi is secretly Ultraman X. Also in the crossover movie, Daiichi and X got separated and X couldn't live on Daiichi's phone so he jumped to the nearest computer (which belonged to Naomi from Ultraman Orb, air date 2016) and began pulling up photos of Daiichi in a "Have You Seen This Nerd?" sort of way. The enemy goons saw Naomi and her cryptid hunting gang putting up missing posters for Daiichi and tore them down bc they had him captured at their crystal witch's base, a creepy haunted house. Eventually when Daiichi and X reunited as man and lil alien on his phone, they were so happy they ignored everyone else in the room. They were grateful enough to fight alongside Naomi's sad space cowboy, Kurenai Gai, in battle.

He's used the phone's vibration function a few times to try and get people's attention, and he doesn't like being turned face-down because he can't see. In order to take on a physical form he has to essentially fuse with his human partner Daichi. (also they get a power up form after Daichi nearly Dies to save him and it's rainbow themed.) While X is very chatty and enjoys talking with his partner, he's often a formless voice while they're fused.The exception being one occasion where he looks like an entire network. tldr this alien is gay he is very polite and deserves your vote.

#virtual character tourney #round 5 #quarterfinals #bracket finals #dr coomer #hlvrai coomer #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #ultraman x #ultraman #character polls

123 notes · View notes

pinkwright · 2 years

Text

party monster | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

starboy set : chapter two

pairing — panther!shuri x partygirl!y/n

trope — bestfriends 2 lovers

inspo — party monster by the weeknd

warnings — they platonically kiss yall, fingering (reader receiving), cunnilingus (reader receiving), possessive!shuri, cocky!shuri, confident!reader, sub!reader, dom!shuri, handsy!shuri, dirty talk, humiliation kink, mean!shuri, they fuck (its my first time writing that shit pls be niceeee 2 meee), loveee theyre in love, lets pretend wakandas a perfect world n drugging doesnt happen there so it doesnt matter if her drink is left unattended lol, shuri lowks has a claiming kink, crying reader, overstimulation, shuri gets off on the reader being a needy girl, theres a lil surprise in the end hehe, yeah.

a/n — erm erm hope them finally doing the deed suffices, i kept stopping to take breaks omfg like wheres the class ?? anyway hope u like it !!! <3

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @shurismainbxtch @verachii @rxcently @shuriszn @lppriceisright @heartsforjojo @motheroffae @naomis-daydream @vampzxi @nrc16783 @msplayas @marsolgy @mysticalmarss @playhousedistee @abenomeiiii @ma4erickk @ogbells16 @6-noir @laurensmabel1 @vexoshuri @saintwrld

dedicated to @zayswriting bc she's lowks the reason this set exists <3

ஜ

and i've seen her get richer in the pole. i've seen her, i knew she had to know, i've seen her take down that tequila.

you’re passionately singing along to the bass-heavy track, the drink in your hand dangerously close to spilling over, as you hold eye contact with riri, the girl relaying the lyrics to you as you dance with each other. the people around you are joining in, the crowd vibing along with the both of you as you turn to whine on the vivacious girl. she raises her own drink in her hype, spurring you on, and you laugh loudly as your body moves, your voice lost within the song.

the lights flash blindingly, and it makes you dizzy in the most self-gratifying sense, the world feels like it's spinning quicker on its axis and it makes your blood rush; you lived for the thrill. it makes you smile hazily as you shift your gaze to look back at the pretty girl against you, feeling her match the rhythm of your hips with her arms in the air, tight abs on display, as she sings to the crowd, the people shouting back at her; cameras pointed at the both of you from every angle.

you lift yourself upright, turning to face one of your best friends, as the beat slows toward the end of the song and you’re downing the remainder of the sweet cocktail in your grip, when firm hands slide down your waist and your hips to gently adjust the risen hem of the gorgeous pink dress that is sitting pretty on your figure.

bouncy curls kiss the skin of your bare collarbone, the warmth of her figure encasing you when she presses against your back. then she’s sliding her arms to wrap around your shifting waist, slowing you down to match her rhythm, and tightly pressing the palms of her hands against the skin of your stomach. your smile widens, riri flashing you a discrete smirk before her attention is back on the crowd circled around you, the next track being one of her favourites.

the sensual movements between the girl behind you and yourself catch some wandering eyes, the pressure and heat of her were too dizzying for you to direct your attention elsewhere, hence the stray and arguably, heated stares go undetected by you. it makes shuri smirk into your neck, although she never lifts from her intimate position against you, her predator senses were aware of all the eyes on you, taking you in; and she knew they were wishing for a chance miracle with you, one that would never come to pass.

her hands press you tighter against her in a test of control before releasing you to spin your figure around to face her, her gaze dark as she takes you in, before she's leaning back into you to speak over the ear-splitting music. her voice is cocky when it’s entering your ears and settling in your hazy mind, “i know chocolate is your favourite, but i’m hoping you like the presentation too, picky girl.”

when she pulls back to look at you, your face is laced with confusion, your eyebrows scrunching further when she simply laughs before shifting her gaze above your head, and the music is softening as the club starts to countdown. your jaw drops when you turn to follow shuri’s gaze, monet walks through the path the splitting crowd makes, a huge smile on her face as she holds the prettiest cake in her hands.

when she reaches you and places the treat in your hands, the crowd is already loudly singing to you, the smile on your face is blinding and shuri sticks herself behind you, bringing her face to your neck as she murmurs the song in your ear, her warm breath fanning goosebumps across your skin making you giggle. when the song ends, she squeezes your hips, and sweetly whispers to you.

“make a wish, baby.”

the bashful smile on your face is twitching with the way you’re trying to keep it down, your eyes fluttering closed as you silently count your wishes, before excitedly lifting the cake slightly to blow out the sparkling candles and the crowd erupts into cheers that are soon drowned out with the steady rise of the beat of your favourite track.

shuri reaches to take the cake in her hand and grabs a hold of your own as she leads you to the calm of the vip section. riri, and monet follow behind you with drunken smiles, they’re such lightweights, and the thought makes you laugh as you step into the secluded glass room. the friends of your friend group are gathering to greet you one after the other, so it’s a while before shuri can have you to herself, firmly pulling you to sit in her lap in a secluded booth.

the sigh that leaves your lips is happy as you wrap your arms around her neck, her hands settling on your thighs that are comfortably straddling her, and you’re singing along to the mellow afrobeat now playing, your glossy lips sensually wrapping around the low words you sing to her, fighting off a smirk when shuri can't seem to look away from them.

“and i know i’m in trouble, she manipulate my love o, hmm. i no holy,” and the slight movement of your hips is pure instinct, the music tempting you with its beat. when you go to rise off of shuri, to live your youth dancing in the centre of the room with the blinding lights flashing your night away, she doesn't let you get far. her lids are lowered to follow the enticing circle of your hips on her lap, the grip she has on your thighs tightening as she guides you back down onto her.

the sound of protest you let out is met with her amused stare, her fingers stroking your skin as the smirk grows on her face at your impatient squirming. she lifts one of her hands to reach for her glass of gold liquid, taking a sip, and she chuckles when you grab her wrist to guide it towards yourself, your gloss staining the rim as you take a heavy gulp.

“you were just gonna leave without giving me a kiss, pretty girl?” her voice is light and cocky, the glass sounding a soft 'clink' when it’s placed on the table, and her eyes are twinkling in mischief when she squeezes the softness of your thighs in question.

and you make a sound of disbelief, not because she wants a kiss because that was a normal way for the both of you to show each other affection, but because she wanted one on a night where you wanted to get laid under someone else – to bury your feelings for her, the obnoxious voice inside your head sounds before you can offer a rebuttal.

“shuri, stop.” a large smile unconsciously breaking through your irritated façade, “how am i supposed to pull with your lips on me?”

shuri lets out a full-blown laugh at this, her nose scrunching as she drops her forehead to rest on your chest, and, unbeknownst to you, she can hear the beat of your heart start to race at the sound; it makes her own flutter. the sight makes you giggle giddily, your nails lightly scratching the back of her neck, pausing, before pulling gently on the soft curls at the nape of her neck, pulling her head back so you can drop a soft peck on her lips.

when you pull back, your face is warm, still not used to the act, and especially not used to the way her eyes darken as her tongue swipes over her lips, looking like she’s searching for the slightest taste of you; before she can do anything else, you’re swinging off her. you hear her shift to sit up as your legs wobble slightly at your quickness to stand, a noise of alarm deep in her throat that makes you twist on your heels. when you face her, her gaze is on your heels trailing up your legs, and sliding up your body when you start to walk backwards in light, and bouncy movements.

her eyes roll when they see that you’ve swiped her drink, the gaze shifting to meet your smirking mouth as you lift the glass to your lips, teasingly mouthing the lyrics to her before you take a languid sip, dropping her a sultry wink before swiftly turning to join the dancing crowd outside the enclosed space, your hips swinging naturally as shuri shakes her head, letting out an exasperated sigh, you were such a tease.

“maybe another life you’ll be my wife and we’ll get it right e don cast, last last.”

⤠

shuri’s arm is draped under your ass as she carries you into her apartment, trying to maintain your modesty, and your legs tighten around her when she shifts to remove her shoes, shifting you effortlessly between her arms. your head lazily lies on her shoulder, your lips brushing her neck as you ramble happily to her, thanking her for the surprise, and the gentle shift of your body as her legs carry the both of you to her bedroom soothes you.

she gently lowers you onto her sheets, her lithe figure following to lie atop you and shuri smiles as she lets herself enjoy the feel of you against her, way more than she should. when she goes to pull away to get you clothes to sleep in, your arms and legs tighten around her as you let out a deep sound of indignation, and shuri finds herself fondly rolling her eyes, just as your voice floats through the space, “stop, don’t go, you’re so warm.”

she glides her hands down your waist to tug at the hem of your dress, your lips part silently around a breathy gasp, and her hands don’t even stop there, but instead continue to curl around your thighs, squeezing your flesh before she speaks, her voice full of amusement and bordering on condescending.

“dressing like a slut and wondering why you’re always so fucking cold, come on, baby.”

the words make you whine, your breath catching in your throat as your nails dig into her shoulders, before you're closing your eyes to avoid her intense gaze. your thighs subconsciously squeezing around her hips as you turn your head to look at the mirror that covers the entirety of her wall, built to reflect the magnificent view of wakanda from the opposite side.

your sharply gasp as you catch sight of your intertwined bodies, shuri’s head of curls is buried in your neck, her breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck as her veiny, strong hands ran up and down the length of your exposed legs, and you looked dazed. your pretty baby pink nails soft against the strength that was her neck and shoulders, the pale pink of your heels so dainty against the harsh black of her set, dark pretty brown limbs tangling against each other, and your eyes are fluttering as your thighs visibly clenched at the overwhelming sight.

when one of shuri’s arms lifts to place itself beside your head, lifting herself to hover over your face, your eyes drift back to hers in anticipation, and your mouth is parting when you notice the wicked hunger in her eyes and hear the lust coating her words, the request dripping through your ears like honey, fanning the heat under your skin, “can we kiss, s’thandwa?”

the words are heavier than they should be, loaded with an emotion that blurs the line between platonic and romantic affection but you find yourself nodding anyways, always wanting to please the powerful girl above you, wanting to make her happy. she smirks down at you, her head dipping, pecking the full pout of your lips as her fingers harshly dig into the sheets to control herself when you whine slightly as she pulls away.

“whiny girl.” her words are murmured a hair’s breadth away from your pouting lips, her warm breath fanning across your lips calling forward your need, your aching need for something more from her, anything more. your hands flex in their position on the back of her neck and she takes that as an invitation, a plea, and once again her warm lips gently peck your own, your heavy breath brushing against her when she departs from you, just to repeat her actions over and over again, lingering a second longer against you each time.

you can’t think beyond her; her body, her smell, the softness of her lips as she places them against yours and your heart is aggressively pounding behind your ribs because you two have never done this, crossed the imaginary line you drew between yourselves. and now you can’t seem to get enough, pressing your body up to try and feel her against you, the needy whimper you let out causing shuri to groan.

shuri slides her free hand over your waist until she’s firmly grasping your rib, her thumb sliding over the heated exposed skin and she brushes her lips against yours when she goes to speak, dropping slow, desperate pecks against your lips between her words, “wanna taste you, will open up for me, baby?”

her voice is gravelly and it tightens the knot in your stomach, her words making slick heat pool between your legs as your hips buck against her. your head is falling back causing her lips to brush against your neck, her mouth parting to welcome the skin into the warm cavern, and your pussy pulses at the action, a wet whimper slipping out of your mouth.

“just- just this one time, okay?” your voice is breathy, and bordering on a plea.

the girl above you laughs against the skin of your neck, amused by the lack of weight in your words, and the dark condescending sound makes you lightly scratch your nails down her skin, gasping when she quickly sinks her teeth into you before muttering against the pulse of your heart, “anything you want, s’thandwa.”

then her hand reaches to wrap around your throat, the grip firm as she lifts you back to look at her face above yours, her eyes gazing darkly between yours before she’s dropping the gaze to your mouth, licking her lips and leaning towards you, her breath warm as she breathes your air.

then she’s kissing you, and properly, her warm lips gliding against yours fuelling the fire in your wanting body, the pulsing in your veins synching with the heartbeat between your legs, and you wish she knew how much she made you soak through your underwear. when she tightens her fingers around your throat and licks at the seam of your lips, your mouth is dropping open to whimper, feeling the curl of her smirk as she takes the opportunity you've given her, then she tastes you, her own taste invading your senses.

shuri’s breathes a deep groan in your mouth, her mouth desperate against your own, wanting to breathe you and your pretty lips in. her hand is calculated as it glides across your body, the warmth of her palm seeping through the skin of your thigh, her fingers curling to wrap around the muscle and spread your clenched legs open for her, “closing me out? haven’t even given you my mouth, my love?”

the words are tauntingly whispered into your mouth before she pulls away to let you rapidly gasp to fill your lungs with oxygen, your eyes following the way her figure leans away from you to use both of her hands to firmly spread your legs. her tongue is peaking out at the sight she’s greeted with, and she lets a small groan slip past her swollen lips before she’s on her stomach, her breath fanning over your damp panties.

the heat that strikes up your figure at the sight makes your eyes shut in humiliation, her unadulterated gaze on the cavern between your legs makes you spin, and punches the breath out of you. the warmth leaving her mouth caresses you so good but so teasingly that it coaxes your hips to subconsciously buck up towards her, making her chuckle as she simply watches you seek her out, seek out her touch.

“please, please, shuri.”

the sound is what propels her forward, a grunt leaving her as she lands a heavy open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh before she's doing the same to your pulsating clit, the satin of your panties feeling cold against your heat and the contrast makes you throw your head back. shuri doesn’t pull away before she’s slowly sliding her tongue over your folds, her eyes trailing the curve of your body, your panties stick even more against your sensitive pussy and you're panting. there's a loud whine spilling out of you, and your lips are parting to release your heavy noises as shuri hums against you, her mouth working you like she was starved.

you can’t help but cant your hips against her mouth, your hand coming to wrap into the curls of her head as she lets you work yourself against her face. you chance a glance at her and your pussy clenches violently at the sight, the blood in your veins pumping loudly in your ears when you meet her dark eyes, she heatedly watched you as she held your trembling legs apart. the domineering look in her eyes let you know that even if you were taking your pleasure, it was only because she allowed you to, allowed you to use her to get off, and the thought makes you throw your head back again, your chest heaving as you babble incoherently.

“i’m so close, so, so close, please, please, let me come.”

your breath is catching, and your hips are stuttering messily, the chase to your release overwhelming you, and pulling you further into the pleasure that clouds your mind. shuri swiftly pulls your ruined panties to the side, her long fingers sliding into your clenching pussy to stroke your soft upper walls before she wraps her lips around your bud, sucking gently and murmuring against you, “let me taste it, pretty girl.”

you’re shouting out as you explode, your legs shaking as they forcefully shut around her, the movement of your hips stuck between wanting more and running away from her due to the intense pleasure. your eyes are shut when you ride your high, the pretty girl between your legs pressing gentle but firm kisses against your quivering cunt humming when she lifts back to your face.

“my pretty, pretty girl.”

shuri’s voice is cooing, slipping into the depths of your mind to lull you further into comfort, she’s kissing you and you taste yourself on her, the mix was so dirty that it made you squirm. the panther’s hands slide up your still trembling thighs, cupping behind your knees to lift your legs up to spread them open, so erotically, that you couldn’t hide anything.

she kneels between your legs and your eyes fall to her hand, slickly sliding lube up the intimidating strap between her legs, your mind whirls thinking of when she even managed to retrieve it, your legs go to clench as you whine, she was going to fuck you.

the thought makes your mind blurry, and you feel your chest caving in on itself as you fist her sheets, and you faintly hear her chuckle before she’s humming and leaning back over your quivering frame, her hand re-situating itself on your leg, prying the clenched muscles apart. when she presses her hips towards you, you’re feeling her, the teasing press of her strap makes you whimper in sensitivity, and the girl above you releases a heavy sigh before dropping her head into your neck. she’s skimming her lips over your skin as she squeezes your thigh, lifting the trembling limb to curl around her hips and your hips buck up against her, a desperate moan leaving your lips when her tip barely just slips into your soaking entrance.

“bast, baby, you don’t understand how long i’ve wanted to fuck you just like this.”

her voice is deep and trails off into an almost whiny moan, the sound makes you bring your hands to her shoulders trailing across the dip of her neck and down her chest to ground yourself, she sounded so desperate it coaxed your cunt to cry some more for her. then your fingers are curling into the soft material of her shirt before the buttons are popping into the room, clinking against the vibranium walls in your haste.

the breathy gasp that flows out of shuri brings a temporary satisfactory smirk to your lips that is swiftly wiped away with the sharp stutter of her hips, and then she’s inside you, your pussy wrapping around her in an invitation as she groans out your name, her blunt nails digging into your skin when you almost painfully cry out, the tenderness of your walls laving out copius amounts of slick like she wanted to be good for shuri, for her lover.

shuri snaps her hips against you as she grunts, carving her place in your walls, making the panther's mark in her pussy, and she's cooing at your writhing form, the stars dancing behind your eyes blind you until there's nothing but her. you can't hold back your noise, and shuri's purring, the filth pouring out your throat settling in the nest of her core and she moans as her cunt clenches in an invite.

your nails scratch over her back when she pulls away from your neck to harshly press her lips against your parted ones. you’re moaning into her mouth, trying to reciprocate her dirty kisses but you can’t think, can’t think with anything other than the desperate ache between your legs, her hips are unrelenting against yours, her strap dragging against the tightening muscles of your weeping cunt.

“kiss me like you mean it, baby.”

her words are taunting accompanied by a hard and deep snap of her sinful hips, her blunt nails scraping down your raised leg to grab the flesh of your ass, her fingers digging into the softness as she hums into your parted lips, a smirk twitching across her red, enticing lips and she swipes her tongue across your swollen bottom lip, commiting your taste to memory.

the words jumble in your head, unable to formulate a response with her hands all over your trembling body, you clench your eyes shut, and your hips stutter, shuri knows you’re about to come and it makes her increase her pace wanting to see such a desirable woman, her desirable woman fall apart on her cock.

when you moan incoherently into her mouth, your thighs clenching tight around her, she shushes you, assuring you that its okay, that she knows how much her poor baby is aching, cooing about how nothing could make her stop, nothing could make her miss the absolute filth her pretty girl became when she was coming like a fucking slut. her head dipping down to press the words into the bruising skin of your neck, your head falling back in a high-pitched, dirty cry, that has shuri sinking her teeth into you as you still under her, then you’re releasing like you never have before.

“i know, baby, i know, just let it out for me, s’thandwa, it’s okay.”

shuri groans as your nails dig harshly into her shoulders, your chest heaving as you moan like you’re crying and it makes shuri dizzy, getting such a free-spirited, confident, and pretty girl like you crying underneath her, she had to have you. she strokes your skin, leaving gentle kisses along your heated skin, “you’re such a good girl for me, hm?”

your pussy is still spasming, your hips occasionally stuttering against her strap, that’s still in you, and you can’t hear beyond shuri and the blood rushing through your veins, so when you feel her shift her hips, her fingers tightening around your leg when you whine and move to pull away, the words thoughtlessly spill out from you.

“c-cant, i can’t.”

“yes, you can, you can, baby.”

her eyes are on yours, her lips cooing the words to you as she coaxes your head to nod along with hers, her hips gently sliding through you as you whimper shamelessly. when she starts to pick up her pace your whimpers turn into heavy and loud moans, that she mirrors, your gazes never leaving one another as your sounds synch. your hips are running away from the intensity, shuri gripping them to pull you back onto her, muttering about how much you mean to her, to the quelling ache that purrs from within her.

“fuck, you take it so well, my love.” her hand tightens around you, bruisingly pulling you back over her strap when you get too far, “you’re mine, baby, is that clear?”

her voice is dark, tainted with regal truth as she increases her pace, her breathing losing a little bit of its control as her cunt pulses at the way she’s owning you, claiming the love of her life. your eyes shut as tears stream down your cheeks, and all you can do is take it, welcome her into you over and over, the overstimulation planting clouds in your head, her lips laying gentle pecks across your wet cheeks as she murmurs like she wants the words to brand you.

“you can have your fun, s’thandwa, but make sure this pretty little head understands where your eternal devotion lies because i’m not letting you go, baby.”

a sob rings out from your mouth, your walls clenching around her so hard, it makes her lose her tempo, a sharp groan pushing through her throat, and her gasps are breathy and soft as she sinks her teeth into your lip, the flesh bruising and swollen from all the attention.

“please shuri, tell me to come please, need you to tell me.”

the words are pathetic and shuri knows it too, her pussy knows it better seeing how her hips stutter as she clenches, her own release so close, and so she slows her thrusts to draw it out wanting you to feel her phantom touch when those lil’ boys you entertain come to you, she wanted to carve a home within your warm walls, the same way you did to her aching buried heart.

“look at me when you come for me, baby. show me just how much you love me.”

the muscles of your body shake violently, the sobs escaping your parted mouth are wet and loud, propelling shuri’s own orgasm forward, her pussy clenching at the harmony of absolute filth that spills from your throat. her hands slide under your arched back, lifting your chest up to press her pretty tits against yours, the cool bars grounding you as they press into your heated skin, her hips riding through both of your highs.

your arms wrap around her neck to pull her down against you, a giggle leaving her lips as the strap shifts inside you provoking a groan from you, she places her head into your neck as you hum in exhaustion, your mind still hazy as you roll your lips. your hands are in her head of curls, the air so warm and inviting that the words you say are pure instinct, your lashes fluttering, comfortable as can be when you yawn out the silly words.

“guess that means i don’t have to wait for another life for you to be my wife.”

say you're mine, i'm yours for the night i'm the realest, she said i'm the realest head be genius, dick game be the meanest.

ஜ

#pinkwrighting ⊹ ۪ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ.#shuri udaku #shuri x black!reader #shuri x reader #shuri black panther #shuri smut #shuri x y/n #shuri fluff #shuri angst #letitia wright shuri #letitia wright #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever #shuri imagine

487 notes · View notes