#me: i could do a couple flashback threads!

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seven

authors notes: so this one leaves probably more questions than answers, but there's also a lot of things sprinkled throughout, and all questions will be answered....eventually.

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

cw/tw: fluff, language, discussion of parental loss, brief (two line) flashback of aftermatch following csa, suggestive themes, ptsd trigger

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

masterlist

words: 8k

Solana: Are you busy today?

Normally, Roman would keep his phone face down during business meetings but with increasing communication with Solana, he’s leaned more on the side of having it face up so he’s aware when notifications come through. 

It’s not a priority. Just a…..preference. 

Grabbing his phone, he quickly shoots her back a text.

Roman: What do you need?

Before he can put his phone back down, those three dots appear. He keeps the thread open for her reply to slide in.

Solana: Nvm. I’m sorry to bother you.

Roman curses inwardly, barely keeping it to himself and not making the room of men aware of his frustrations. He can acknowledge Solana has slightly improved with her over–apologizing over the past couple weeks, but it’s moments like this that get him upset all over again. 

He fucking hates repeating himself.

But….

There’s that small, annoying ass, nagging voice in the back of his head that reminds him of why she’s always so apologetic, why she thinks her damn existence itself is an inconvenience. And he can’t really fault her, blame her for years of trauma fucking with her mental.

Roman: You’re apologizing again. How many times I gotta tell you to stop that shit?

It could probably, definitely, be worded better. Maybe even a bit…kinder. But Roman is a lot of things. 

Kind is not one of them.

He then adds, knowing she’ll probably try to find another excuse to not be honest with him. 

Roman: What do you need? The truth, Solana. 

There’s an appearance and disappearance of those dots at least three or four times. He can picture her biting down on her bottom lip as she tries to word what probably is a simple request as best she can.

The amount of overthinking she does has to be fucking exhausting.

Solana: I was just gonna see if you could meet me at the library. I wanted to show you something.

Solana: But, it’s not a big deal! Please forget I said anything.

A couple of things strike Roman strange, two in particular. The first being that as soon as she says what she needs, the answer is an automatic yes. Like, it’s not even something he really thinks too much about, but he also chalks it up to a level of genuine curiosity. This might be the first time she’s actually directly asked him for something.

It must be important. Important enough for her to ask him to come see whatever it is, at least.

It’s why he doesn’t even comment on her second, follow up text.

Roman: What time you get off?

He can make whatever work.

Solana: It’s okay. Really.

This damn girl….

Roman’s jaw clench as he types out a text that matches his mood. 

Roman: Solana….

She’s giving him a damn migraine. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just ignore her at this point. If it’s that fucking important, she wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time.

But then the stupid nagging voice returns, reminding him that her even asking in the first place is a huge deal that shouldn’t necessarily be shot down because of lingering struggles that are probably going to be around for a while.

Solana literally has years of baggage and trauma she needs to heal from.

And that shit doesn’t happen overnight.

Solana: 3pm

Roman blows out a breath. Fucking finally. 

He lays his phone back down, not necessarily wanting to hear any pushback or counter arguments she might try to supply, fake ass reasons she wants to back away from her assertive request. 

Not happening. 

Roman: I’ll be there.

“Jey.” Roman’s deep voice cuts through the group who set their eyes on him. “I need you and Jimmy to handle the Barrett meeting for me.”  While the twins are annoying as shit majority of the time, they’re effective all of the time. Roman has trusted countless meetings with them, and none have turned out badly. They always get shit handled. 

His cousins both echo okayness with this change in plans, as expected. The same way Roman expected his Wise Man to be the one with questions.

“My Tribal Chief, we’ve had this meeting scheduled for weeks. What could possibly be more important?”

It’s a fair question, Roman isn’t too stubborn to admit that. But, it’s also not a question that applies. Again, it’s not that Solana is important, per se, it’s just that if his alternative is dealing with Barret’s loquacious business dealings, he’d prefer Solana.

He’s also partially intrigued by the mere fact she’d even had the balls to ask something of him in the first place. It’s promising. Assertiveness has always been more attractive to him than passiveness. 

Roman’s answer is both simple and vague. “I have somewhere to be.”

“But—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s childlike smile deepens suddenly, as if he’s been picked to be fucking line leader. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Who’s the Tribal Chief?”

Rikishi is the only one to offer a visible reaction, hiding his chuckle. He knows exactly where this is going, even if his decades old friend does not. 

“Y–you are, my Tribal Chief.”

Romans voice is sharp and lethal. “So why the fuck are you asking me to answer to you?”

Paul’s expression pales. “I would never, my—”

“Sound like it to me,” Jimmy’s messy ass chimes in. He looks at Jey. “What you think, Uce?”

“Sound like it to me too.” Jey, as expected, agrees. Only for him to nearly fall back in his seat when he jumps up so both feet are on the expensive ass leather. Roman is annoyed all over again for a new reason. “Ayo, Uce, ya’ll got a rat problem!”

At that, Jimmy is twinning with his brother in more than just appearance, also with his feet off the floor and onto the leather chair. Roman hopes they both fall over and break their goddamn necks. Rikishi can handle Barrett just fine.

“Ain’t you like a goddamn billionaire? How the hell you got Stuart Little and his fam running around your crib!”

Roman’s gaze follows the line of vision the twins are so damn focused on only to be met with Dulce calmly walking past both of them to sit in front of him, looking up with a tilted head. 

She’s clearly looking for Solana. 

And he knows this because it’s become a bit of a habit. If he’s home and she’s not, Dulce’s nosy ass seems to seek him out as if he’s supposed to magically make her owner appear. It’s not something he’s brought up to Solana, because he knows she would just freak the fuck out and over apologize for Dulce “bothering” him. 

And that’s not the case. 

It’s a bit annoying, but it’s not a bother.

His staff keep an eye out for her when Solana works, and he’s even seen Solana come back to the house on her lunch breaks to check in Dulce, so he doesn’t mind. She’s keeping up her end of the deal, being the primary caretaker for the puppy. 

“That’s Solana’s dog.”

Jimmy’s bewildered gaze is on him. “This a dog?”

“Yes.”

“You let her get a dog? Like a real ass dog?”

“You fucking see her, don’t you?” At that moment, Dulce calmly lays down on the floor next to Roman’s feet which are literally bigger than her small ass. It’s followed up by Paul starting to sneeze. 

Jey, who is now sitting back in his chair like a normal human being, points out, “man, you hate dogs.”

Naturally, Roman goes a bit on the defense, shoulders straightening. “I don’t hate them.”

Jimmy makes a sound, also with his feet planted on the ground. “Bruh, you literally use to tell us when we was growing up, ‘I hate dogs.’ That’s why we started calling you Big Dog, cause it was funny to see you get all mad and shit.”

Roman may or may not remember that, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to acknowledge it. Besides, he’s allowed to change his mind. Hate was always probably too strong of a word to use anyway. 

There are a lot of things Roman hates, even more people that he hates, but dogs are not on the list. 

It was more irritation than anything.

“Whatever.”

“What’s her name?” Rikishi asks, bending over his chair to try to catch Dulce’s attention.

Roman watches the puppy gradually make her way over his cousin, ears dropping as he gently rubs the top of her head. “Dulce.”

“Dul–what?”

This…..this is why Roman is on high blood pressure medication, why Dr. Michaels recommended he start wearing one of those smart watches to monitor his heart rate and other shit. Not that he did it.

“Dulce. It’s Spanish.”

“Aw man, why you ain’t say that in the beginning?” Jimmy turns to Jey. “The dog only speak Spanish.” He looks over at his dad who now has Dulce in his lap, continuing to pet her. Roman rolls his eyes. This dog is a damn attention whore, just like he predicted. “Hola, lil’ chalupa.”

Jey punches his brother on the arm. “Uce, you can’t be saying that kind of shit. It’s racist.”

“No, it’d be racist if I called the dog Taco Bell since her mama half Mexican, but I ain’t do that shit, cause I like Soso.”

“Stop calling her that.” 

Jimmy avoids Roman’s warning and proceeds to ask with all of the intrigue. “So not only did you let her bring a dog up in here, but you let ole’ girl pick a rat for said dog?”

Already irritated and on edge, Roman isn’t sure why Jimmy’s question irritates him as much as it does, and not even because it's a question that’s being posed when he’s trying to review a contract. It’s that Jimmy is questioning Solana’s decision in general.

He answers as calmly as he’s capable of responding. Roman also notices that Paul is red as a tomato as he pulls out an Epipen. Roman easily brings his focus back to Jimmy. “It’s what she wanted.”

“Should have got a big dog,” Jey suggests, hovering over by Rikishi as he tries to interact with Dulce whose eyes are fluttering closed. Roman swears this damn dog sleeps 23 out of the 24 hours in the day. 

That answer is simple, Roman grabbing a pen to sign off on the contract in front of him. It’s satisfactory enough. “She’s scared of them.”

“What is she not scared of?”

But that comment, for whatever reason, is what makes him snap. “Get out.”

Both the twins are unfazed, but it seems to trigger something for them as Jimmy exclaims, “I forgot!” He looks over at Jey, reminding. “Remember, Soso made some extra food for us.”

“Oh shit, she sho’ did!” 

Roman makes a mental note to write Solana about that. It’s not her job to keep feeding his grown ass, married ass cousins. 

The two bid their farewell, Jey shouting out as his parting term, “yeet!”

“Stop doing that,” Roman calls after their retreating forms as Paul also excuses himself for some air. 

Maybe he really is allergic to dogs. 

Rikishi stands up and walks over to him, still holding Dulce but not saying anything. He’s just looking like he wants to say something. Another of Roman’s pet peeves, of the many.

With a mutter and scowl, he asks, “what?” 

His cousin simply shrugs, nonchalantly commenting. “The girl is growing on you, Uce.” It’s an assessment, for certain.

However, Roman has zero desire to have this conversation with his older cousin, or anyone, in general. Hence, his vague ass reply of, “she’s tolerable.”

Because that’s the truth. Solana is neither amazing nor insufferable. She’s in a pretty balanced space between the both: tolerable.

Rikishi gives him that sly ass look that makes Roman want to punch him in his fucking face. “E tua le fale tele i le faleo’ o.”

It’s an old Samoan proverb that means “Even the mighty need others.”

Instantly, Roman’s gaze is cutting. “I don’t need anyone.” He never has, and he never will.

Rikishi just offers a knowing smile, lowering Dulce back to the ground and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Of course not, Uce. Of course not.” The older man says nothing else, just walking out, Dulce returning back to stand by Roman’s feet, head up, staring at him.

He rolls his eyes, murmuring as he gets back to work. “She’ll be home later.” 

Dulce barks in response. 

________

The minute Roman pulls up to Solana’s job, sees the expression on his cousin’s face, he knows something is up.

Solo may have a dangerously good poker face, but Roman invented that shit. 

He got the blueprint from Roman. 

Solana is sitting near the front of the building, surrounded by fucking children as she reads some basic ass book that they’re all clearly eating up based upon how they can’t seem to take their eyes off her.

Roman isn’t entirely indifferent, instantly taking note of her outfit, more colorful, less covered. It reeks of Naomi’s influence, but in a good way. 

As always, she looks good, better than good.

Not wanting to interrupt, Roman motions for a few of his men to take Solo’s place as he gestures for his younger cousin to follow him.

As soon as they’re outside the building, Roman gets right into it. “You got something to say, so say it.” 

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that despite his brutal fighting abilities, the man is always careful and meticulous with his words. Unlike his hot headed older brother, Jey, Solo always thinks before he acts.

It’s why Roman doesn’t think twice about the space between the issuance of his prompt and Solo’s answer.

“You made me your enforcer for a reason, yeah?”

It’s an easy answer. “Yes.” 

“You upped me in the ranks to prove myself, right? To earn my way into the inner circle?”

Roman is already bored with the conversation, but considering this is family, he throws a bone. “Yeah.”

“So just how am I supposed to do that when you got me playing babysitter to your new wife?” The turn in topics as well as increase in Solo’s volume does slightly, very slightly, take Roman by surprise. Granted, he does a masterful job, as always, hiding that surprise. “Any lower guy could do this shit. She don’t—”

“Solo.” Roman gives him that tight smile and scratches his beard, typically the last thing people see before they meet their maker. “You answer to me. You do what I say you do, and I say you’re assigned to Solana.”

Roman doesn’t know what’s in the fucking water for people to be testing him the way they are, but it’s really starting to piss him off.

Solo looks down, clearly embarrassed by this talk down but not enough to shut his mouth. “I get that, but—”

“Wasn’t she already hurt once under your watch?” Roman’s voice is razor sharp as he reminds the younger man of his failure. The memory of that fucking bruise on Solana’s wrist from her bitch of a brother returning all of those strong emotions. “I gave you a job, and you didn’t do it. She got hurt while under your protection. It’s because you’re my cousin, you're even still breathing right now. You know better than anyone I don’t accept failure.”

At that, Solo concedes, knowing good and well there is no excuse or justifiable reason. “I understand, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman does his best to chip away some of his anger at this outright disrespect as well as the memories of Solana hurt. He steps past his cousin, calling out over his shoulder. “And Solo, don’t think because you’re family I won’t put a bullet in your head for questioning me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Roman can see Solo still has his head down. “Fail me again, let her get hurt again, and I’ll put your ass six feet under.”

Roman doesn’t allow the conversation to persist beyond that, big steps taking him back to the library just in time to see the children disperse, whipping past him as Solana approaches. The wedges on her feet give her a bit more height, but he still towers over her, which is a usual experience for him.

But, it doesn’t negate the fact that she’s so damn small.

“Hi,” she greets in that familiar unsure voice, eyes darting from him to the ground. “Sorry—I mean—story time ran a bit over.”

He’s appreciative she at least caught the apologizing before he had to call it out. “It’s fine.”

She offers a tight smile and motions for him to follow her, which he does, just as his eyes follow the sway of her ass as she leads the way.  

He’s starting to really enjoy seeing her in jeans. 

She leads him up the stairs and in the back area he’d visited her before what seems like so long ago, finding that her bastard of a brother had manipulated her into being alone with him. The last fucking time that shit will ever happen.

She pulls a key out her back pocket and unlocks the door, informing, “I have to grab something first.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. It’s like she feels the need to justify every little thing she does. 

Roman watches her walk over to the desk, leaning over as she grabs him something out of her bag, a notebook, the journal he first found her writing in the first time he came to see her at her place of employment. 

She’s back by him, closing and locking the door. “Come on.”

Typically, if this was anyone else, Roman would have demanded to know just what the fuck was so important that caused him to have to rearrange his whole schedule. Granted, he can’t take that out on her, nor would he ever, when he’s the one who rearranged his whole schedule for her. She didn't ask him to do that shit. 

He did it on his own volition for reasons unknown. 

The walk to the next stop doesn’t take long at all, Solana soon sticks her key in another, unfamiliar door, opening and stepping aside but directing him to walk in.

He does as such, naturally and instantly taking in his surroundings once she hits the light switch. It’s a room obviously, a previous storage room he would guess based upon the large filing cabinet lined against the wall to the right of him. There’s also another couple pieces of furniture against that same wall, like a desk and mini bookshelf, but that’s not what immediately catches his attention.

He’s instead more interested by the remaining walls that are essentially lined with larger, white bookshelves, all filled with a combination of notebooks, books, and journals. Completely filled. 

Intrigued but also confused, the latter of which is unfamiliar to him, Roman turns to Solana, asking, “what is this?”

Her cheeks redden, but she manages an answer that’s somehow not marked by as much stuttering. “There are all my journals—well,” she stops, giving a nervous laugh. “Most of them. Some are books I’ve read, and….” She walks over to a section that somehow seems different from the others, albeit lined up neatly with the rest of the items. Solana’s hand almost hesitantly feathers over the spines of the journals. At closer look, Roman can see they’re a bit dated and worn than the others. “These were my mother’s.”

Her answer surprises him, but he quickly recalls her sharing that she started writing because of her mother, because they wrote to each other.

She clears her throat and then turns back to him, sharing, “every time I finish a journal, I leave it here.”

Obviously. “Why here?”

“My mom started it. It—it was an arrangement she had with Mrs. Jensen. She worked here, and along with her pay, she arranged so she could keep her writings here and after….” Solana starts to hesitate, and Roman can see it’s because emotion is brewing. Just gently bubbling under the surface. “After she died, I kept up with it.”

Roman recognizes the sensitive nature of the subject and makes a subtle effort to change the topic on her behalf. “You’ve really written in all of these?” It’s impressive. He has to give her that. The thought of writing in general has never appealed to him, so for her to have a room full of journals she’s completed is fucking impressive. 

She nods, adding sheepishly, “filled em’ up.” Solana then takes the one in her hand, lifting it a bit. “Finished this one this morning.” He watches her squeeze it into a row that’s probably already being pushed to the limit.

She’s going to run out of space eventually.

She’ll need something bigger, sooner rather than later. Roman compartmentalizes this for a later date and time to navigate.

“You keep em’ here to hide them also, don’t you?”

“They can never know what I’ve written….” She doesn’t need to say who they are. It’s more than obvious. It’d be a sure death wish. “I just—-I know you said you’d write for now and it’s been almost a month, but—but I—I figured if you knew just how important and helpful writing is to me—”

“Solana.” There’s no need for her long ass, drawn out explanation. He understands now why she wanted him to see this space, the goal behind the request. “We’ll write as long as you need it.”

He watches her shoulders drop, a sign of relief. She bites back a smile he wouldn’t be opposed at seeing. She looks even better when she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

He only nods, and Solana finds herself taking him in. 

All of him.

In recent weeks, she’s discovered yet another newfound difficulty and source of anxiety for herself. And that new addition would happen to be in the form of the 6’3 man before her.

Roman has always made her nervous, for a variety of good and valid reasons, but recently, the cause of that anxiety has shifted to something else, something a bit on the unfamiliar side for her, or rather something she hasn’t really had to think about since her last disastrous relationship.

Attraction

Solana has come to terms with the fact that she’s attracted to Roman, yes, but also that she hasn’t the slightest clue of what to do about and with that said attraction.

It’s always been there, to a certain extent, but it was more dormant, something she knew was present but voiceless and nameless, almost invisible.

Now, in interacting and engaging with him more, it’s formed more defining characteristics, creating a sense of butterflies in her stomach whenever his smoldering gaze falls on her or when he says something to her, that deep, baritone voice sprouting goosebumps on the back of her neck.

It also doesn’t help that he’s indicated a couple of different times now that he also finds her attractive, or pretty, beautiful even.

That he thinks she looks good.

None of that makes sense to Solana nor can she understand why he would believe any of those things, but she would never make him out to be a liar, so it must be true, to some extent.

And therein lies the dilemma. 

One of many that exist in her life.

How she’s supposed to balance attraction with fear, desire with aversion, peace with trauma. It’s all a muddled mess. 

“Solana.”

“Sorry.” He only has to sigh one time for her shoulders to sulk, but instead of apologizing, she points out in a small voice. “It’s—it’s a habit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a fucking habit to break.” His irritation is palpable, and Solana feels even smaller around him, like she’s done something wrong. “It’s not you I’m annoyed with.”

“Oh.” And that genuinely surprises her. In Solana’s experience, she’s always been the source of people’s, especially the men in her life, exasperation. But before she can step out of her comfort zone and ask him what’s wrong, he informs her of something that completely makes her emotions flip and twirl into a puddle of distress.

“Your father called for you today.” And just like that, any sense of relation and ease she’d achieved is dissipated, replaced with growing unrest. “Relax…” It’s not missed upon Solana how Roman’s tone quickly and almost easily jumps from irritated to almost soothing, like he’s trying to calm his nerves. “I told him to fuck off.”

That doesn’t make her feel any better. “He doesn’t like being told no.”

“And you think I give a fuck?” His deep voice is full of indifference and edge, but this time around, Solana knows it’s not directed towards her. He then asks, “do you want to talk to him?”

It takes her off guard. “What?”

Roman repeats himself with a surprising lack of irritation. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Solana can’t remember the last time she was asked such a question. Been given a choice. Then again, it’s happened quite a few times since her marriage to Roman, starting with Bayley asking her something as simple as how she wants her makeup done. 

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Just another thing added to that mounting list of confusing and conflicting thoughts and feelings. 

“If you want to, I’ll allow it.” He quickly adds the caveat. “But not without me present.”

Prior to the past couple weeks, Solana would suspect Roman’s stipulation stems from a place of possessiveness. But now….now it feels like it comes from someplace else, something so unfamiliar and foreign. 

Protectiveness. 

It feels like he’s being protective of her. 

His proclamation from earlier returns to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you.”

He’d also included a list of people he wouldn’t allow to do as such, including her dad and brother, which is why he clearly would only let Solana speak to her father if he’s around. 

It’s just the why that has her stumped.

But, back to the question being posed, the easiest and most simple answer is no. She’d rather not be around someone who’s only ever left her hurt, emotionally and/or physically. Or allocated that task to her brother. 

Not to mention the fact that the only reason he probably wants to talk to her is to discuss this nefarious plot she still refuses to allow herself to think about because it’s so inconceivable. 

“Not really,” she answers after what feels like forever, “but…”

Roman picks up on her hesitation. “But?” 

“Like I said, my–my father doesn’t like being denied.” And before he can protest or again reiterate his outright indifference to her father’s feelings, Solana adds in a quiet voice, “and I usually end up being the one to pay for it.”

Roman steps towards her, and before she can process what’s happening, his finger is under her chin, tugging so that her head is lifted, eyes locked with his. 

His voice lowers, quietly asking, “you still don’t believe me when I say I won’t let anyone hurt you, huh?” It’s rhetorical, sure, but Solana is too focused on the fact that this man is touching her. It’s as innocent as innocent comes, but it’s still touch, something she usually hides away from like the plague. However, outside of the initial shock and borderline discomfort, Solana doesn’t jump away, doesn’t feel the need to put as much distance between them. She’s almost….almost comfortable.

“I’m going to kill them both, eventually.  Fucking with them in the meanwhile only makes the outcome that much more worthwhile. But…” And the surprises keep coming, especially as he makes her aware of his intentions. “One word. All I need is one fucking word from you. That you want them gone, and it’s done. No questions asked.” 

Power.

Solana wonders if this is what power feels like, the ability to say one single word and have a life be ended. How she feels about those lives belonging to her brother and father remains to be seen, but even being given such an option, such an almost promise, it’s an indescribable experience.

Roman’s brown eyes, light and contrasting everything about him that is sharp and hard, study her. “You understand me?”

Naturally, she nods against his index finger that’s under her chin, demanding maintained eye contact. 

“I need words.” It’s a reminder from the infamous wedding night, something that seems so far in the rearview mirror now. 

“Y–yes.”

He seems pleased by this acknowledgment, enough to pull his hand away from her, Solana trying not to make too much of the strange sensation that floats in her stomach at the absence of his touch. 

Roman suddenly offers. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll up your security detail.” Before she can protest and probably apologize if she’d unintentionally indicated it wasn’t already enough, he asks, “you get off at 3 every day?”

“Essentially, y–yes.” 

“I’ll start meeting you.”

The surprises just keep on coming.

Instantly, she feels bad, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“Solana.” This man must get tired of having to say her name, she’s certain of that. “I’ll meet you.” He says the same thing, but this time, she knows not to push back because it’s a done thing. “Just make sure I have your updated work schedule.”

“Wh—what about Solo?”

“He’ll still be assigned to you for any other outings.” This makes her feel a little better, that he’s not entirely rearranging and inconveniencing himself for her. “You ready to go?”

Yes. No. Maybe. There’s so many different questions she has with only a select number of answers, but in this moment, she goes with the one that feels most right. 

Especially with Roman reaching for her hand.

Nodding, she swallows and accepts his gesture, noticing how his large hand closes over hers, almost protectively.

“Yes.”

________

“That for me?” Solana looks up from the notebook she’s almost certain she’ll have filled and completed by the end of the month. Roman’s presence and question both catch her off-guard. She didn’t really expect to speak to him again today, especially after he already spent time with her earlier that day. She figured he’d had his maximum daily dosage. 

Especially after she’d already prepared and fixed dinner for him, the two of them falling into their now routine of him eating in his office, her in the living room before she makes her way out back to the patio where she either writes or, now, plays with Dulce.

Solana shakes her head, answering softly as Roman sits on the chair opposite her.  “no. It’s…”

“About your mom?”

With him now aware of the nature of some of her writing, she answers, “yeah.” Roman’s question triggers something she’s certain she intentionally never commented on because it was such a shock to her system that she really didn’t know how to respond. “When….when you said it wasn’t my fault….did—did you mean that?”

If she expected there to be delayed response or even confusion on his end, she was entirely wrong because he answers almost on the spot. “Yes. I told you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She’s starting to believe that. 

Wetting her lips, she informs in that same small voice, “no one’s ever said that to me before.”

Xavier’s unshaven face and dark, judgmental gaze is focused on her, Solana doing her best to ignore the pain that wrecks her body, the beeping of the machines and IV’s in both her arms. The throbbing between her legs is equally scary as it is confusing. What did they do to her, and why did it hurt so much?

He pulls the cigar from his mouth, dropping and stomping it on the floor, gruff voice asking, “why didn’t you fight back?” He shakes his head, spitting at the same spot that’s littered with remnants of one of many poor habits. “You’re weak just like your mother.”

Roman’s firm voice snatches her away from spiraling too deeply in dark memories of an even darker past. She does her best to shake away any sign she was about to dissociate when he surprises her for what feels like the 10th time today, almost quietly sharing, “My mother was killed when I was ten years old.” There’s a synchronous dropping of her mouth and stomach at the exact same time. “You think that shit was my fault?”

The answer is obvious and immediate. “No. Of–of course not. You were—you were just a kid.”

While her response is borderline automatic, coming from a place of pure logic, everything else is so confusing. Roman’s mother is….dead? Not even dead but murdered when he was a child?

Just like hers.

Solana doesn’t know how to process this. It’s not until this very moment that she realizes not once has she ever considered or thought about his immediate family, like parents and even siblings. At the wedding, so many people were present, obvious family members of his, but she’s just now realizing she never considered who was who. Were they all cousins, aunts, in-laws even? 

Where is the rest of his immediate family? Better yet, who makes up his immediate family? She’s aware of the twins and even his older cousin Rikishi, but is there not more?

“So were you.” She can’t tell if Roman intentionally works to redirect the focus back onto herself or if he’s unaware of the fact she’s suddenly wondering just how much about the man across from her she still knows nothing about it. “So why is it different for you?”

It’s an effective diversion and valid question that she’s never once asked herself.

“No one’s ever said that either.” Her voice is only a couple octaves above a whisper, and Solana finds herself sharing more than she’s probably ever divulged to anyone. “When I….when I’m writing, a lot of the times, I’m writing letters to my mom.” Having this conversation with anyone, let alone Roman, of all people, wasn’t on her life agenda. But, it seems like a lot of ‘nevers’ are gradually morphing into ‘actualities.’

It’s such a strange experience, too.

“Like I said, we used to write to each other, and after….after she was killed, I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I think at the beginning, I kept doing it because….because I didn’t want to accept she was gone.” The understanding and underlying emotion shifts to the surface, resulting in her quickly wiping at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Like I was waiting for her to write me back.” It’s not missed upon Solana how Dulce suddenly moves closer, tucking her body right up against Solana’s thigh. “And I’ve kept at it over the years, cause—she was the only person I could ever talk to.”

Roman repeats the same message he wrote to her, almost reminding her of a lifeline she’s gradually starting to realize is available for the first time in almost twenty years. “You can talk to me, Solana.”

And she is. She doesn’t know how and especially why, but she is, and as heavy as the topic is, there’s a hint of relief at finally having another living, breathing person to speak to and with about these things. 

Especially…..especially someone who can maybe relate to her. “How did you do it—how did you….move past it?”

It’s not the best wording, she’s certain of that. Losing a parent. Having a parent be murdered isn’t something one gets over. 

Solana knows this better than most, but Roman….he’s so composed, so together, so unbroken. 

So unlike her. 

His expression darkens as he answers in an eerie but calm voice. “I got my revenge, and I killed every single son of a bitch who played a role.” His delivery unsettles her a bit, but he seems to easily shift back into that almost patient tone she’s only ever heard him use….with her. “But, I’m not like you, Solana. You're innocent. My ledger bleeds red.” Solana doesn’t know what it looks or even sounds like for Roman to be uncomfortable, but his delivery in the next part definitely feels as such.  “I don’t….feel things like you do. You feel everything. I feel nothing.”

She whispers. “I wish I was like that, that I didn’t feel.” Because it’s true. Because it’s how she initially started to self harm, because she wanted to feel something other than emotional pain. Even physical pain was better than the anguish that racked her every day, 24/7.

He’s quick to shut that down, to tell her the complete opposite. “No, you don’t. That would mean you’ve lost that innocence you have.”

That actually makes Solana smile, chuckle, but there’s not an ounce of humor as she shakes her head. “I–I lost my innocence a long time ago.” Stolen. It was stolen from her a long time ago is the more appropriate way to word it. Stomach a complete freaking mess, she does her best to power through her anxiety at what she’s about to tell him. “Roman…..I—”

“Ayo, Uce—”

“What!” Roman snaps, Solana jumping back away from him, hypervigilance back on high and alert. He briefly casts his gaze back in her direction, and she can almost swear she sees a speck of guilt. Like he’s apologetic for scaring her. 

Jimmy, however, is unfazed by his cousin’s temper. He’s lived with it his whole life. Ain’t nothing new. “Rhodes men were on Bloodline territory—”

“What?” At that, Roman’s head snaps back in Jimmy’s direction. And Solana watches as any sign of Roman, patient and almost kind, is replaced almost instantly with that same cold, stoic demeanor that could strike fear in the heart of even the strongest man. 

He stands up, hands on his hips as he moves a bit away from her. Solana also stands, fighting her urge to move closer to him. 

Jimmy also presents with a seriousness she’s never seen in him, never even really knew he was capable of, to be honest. “We got three guys down. Another two critically injured.”

Roman curses, turning away, back toward Jimmy and her. He then asks, “you got a location on em’ yet?”

“Pearce should have it any minute now.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Roman nods, stepping away from Solana and in the direction of Jimmy just as Dulce walks over, clearly wanting Solana to pick her up. She must also pick up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere. 

Dulce in her arms, Solana finds herself calling for Roman. “What—”

“Not now.” His dismissal is sharp and sudden. It shouldn’t hurt her feelings, because it’s obvious he’s in an entirely different zone now, but it does. 

Solana sinks back into her shell of silence as Solo steps forward. “You want me—”

“Stay with Solana. She doesn't step foot outside this fucking house, you understand me?” Roman’s orders are indisputable, an almost sense of urgency in his tone. “Heighten security around the premises.”

Solana has so many questions. Just what is going on? Why is Roman so on edge all of a sudden? Who is Rhodes and why do they present such an imminent threat where Roman marches out the house, Jimmy on his heels without even a second glance at her.

It’s all so confusing. 

“You need to get inside.” Solo’s equally stoic reminder, command maybe, pulls her from her thoughts. And Dulce suddenly growling at Solo definitely redirects her focus.

“Shhh. It’s just Solo,” she comforts, petting and trying to calm the puppy who quickly upgrades her growling to barking. This also confuses the mess out of Solana.  

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dulce both growl and bark at someone.

Wordlessly, she walks in the house, past Solo who she notices makes sure to lock the door behind them. 

“Stay in your room," he instructs, and while she has more questions than anything, his austere tone is more than enough for her to not push back. 

Dulce will just have to use the crate if she has to use the bathroom. 

Without another word, Solo carries Dulce up the stairs and into her room where she lays the puppy in her bed and Solana climbs onto her.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she grabs her phone and opens up the latest group text thread she was messaging in. 

Solana: Can I ask you guys something?

Their replies come in not even five minutes later. 

Bayley: Of course!

Naomi: Anything.

Without allowing herself too much time to overthink it, Solana sends out the simple question.

Solana: Who or what is Rhodes?

Solana: Roman just rushed out of here after Jimmy said something about Rhodes men being on Bloodline territory. I’m not allowed to leave the mansion.

Just like the start of the conversation, the replies come in almost instantaneously. 

Naomi: Fuck.

Naomi: Yes, stay put. Solo’s there with you, right?

Solana: Yes.

Solana’s anxiety is only growing. Naomi sounds just as intense as Jimmy and Roman were. 

Her follow up text doesn’t do anything to help the confusion either.

Naomi: The less you know, the better. The guys will handle it.

Handle what, though? That’s what Solana really wants to know. What is the story here, and why did this Rhodes person or group have Roman so wired. 

Just then, another notification comes through. From Bayley, but in their individual thread and not the group chat. 

Solana switches over, reading her messages as they arrive almost back to back. 

Bayley: Rhodes is a person, but…that’s a complicated story.

Bayley: And I'd feel bad telling someone else’s story, but what I can tell you is that Rhodes is Cody Rhodes, head to the Nightmare Factory, the Bloodline’s biggest opp. Tensions have been at an all time high for like two generations with countless bodies dropped on both sides. It’s always a bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity. 

Solana is regretting even asking anything in the first place. Bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity, the same vicinity Roman is heading for as she types. Her shoulders drop, anxiety starting to shift to a new target. 

Concern for his safety.

Bayley: If you’re somehow ever in a situation where someone from the Nightmare territory is around, get the hell out of dodge. They won’t hesitate to kill you, especially with you being Roman’s wife.

Bayley: Or Rollins. Seth Rollins. Especially him. Guy is fuckin’ psycho.

Solana: Rollins?

Bayley: Roman, Seth, and Cody used to be friends a long time ago, like way long ago, and it just….it went bad. Really really fucking bad, and Cody and Roman have hated each other since. Like, I don’t know if hate is even a strong enough word for how much they can’t stand each other. 

Solana: But why?

Bayley never replies. 

________

Roman doesn’t step back into the house until almost 4am. He feels every bit exhausted as he probably looks, more physical than anything, some mental, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

Dealing with anything Nightmare related typically has that impact on him.

Solo meets him at the door, looking as on alert as he did when Roman first saw him at the ass crack of dawn this morning. 

The first thing to leave Roman’s mouth isn’t intentional as much as it is unintentional. “How was she?”

Solo motions to the marble flooring leading to the spacious living room. “She’s waiting for you.”

Roman wasn’t expecting to hear that, and he’s certain it shows in his facial expression. “What? Why? Why is she still up?”

Solo shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her. She don’t talk to me.” Which is more Solo’s preference anyway. It’s his job to protect her, not be her fucking friend. “Everything good?” Roman nods but doesn’t say anything, still stuck on the fact that Solana is still up. “Imma head out.”

Roman’s response is as distant as his expression. He doesn’t care whether Solo stays or leaves. “Alright.”

Once his enforcer is out the house, Roman sure enough finds Solana sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, notebook in her lap as she writes away.

“Solana.”

She gasps, clearly taken by surprise, but when her head lifts and her eyes land on him, she untangles her legs and moves the journal to the side. Solana walks over to him, keeping a distance that makes sense for her. “You’re back….”

“What are you still doing up? Don’t you have work in a couple hours?”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head, adding sheepishly, “I–I don’t sleep much anyway.” He knows this well. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes widen as she hones in on the nasty looking cut near the middle of his hairline. “You’re hurt….”

It’s really not until she says anything that Roman remembers the only “injury” he received from tonight’s bloodbath. “It’s fine.” He then redirects the focus to the main topic at hand. “Solana, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

She ignores him, actually ignores him and instead reaches up to feel the cut that’s maybe a bit more deeper than he realized because her feather light touch brings a bit of a sting. 

“You need stitches.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion, and he realizes as such following her next surprising action. She takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen, motioning for him to sit down on the stool as she pulls out the medical kit from under the sink. 

Similar to the night of WarGames, she moves in between his open legs and starts tending to his cut, meticulously and carefully stitching him up.

She says not a word, and neither does he. Truthfully, it’s more an unconscious thing than conscious, like neither knows what or if to say something. Especially considering both are currently feeling more than what they know how to properly verbalize, or verbalize at all, really. 

“There….” Roman can tell when she’s done. She gently runs her fingers over her diligent work, her eyes focused on the source of her apparent concern when all he wants is for her to look at him, for her eyes to lock on him. “I think I’m—” And just as Solana goes to move away, to step back and clean up, she’s stopped. 

She’s stopped, because Roman reaches for her, keeping her near him.

His hand is initially on the small of her back, and Solana has the same experience from earlier. That initial tense feeling that quickly mellows into something almost calm, almost secure. 

She’s not sure she’s ever been this close to him, not since the last time she tended to his injuries, not since their wedding day, since their wedding night.

But unlike that last almost traumatic time, she’s not pummeled with anxiety, not paralyzed with fear. 

It’s just the calm. 

His eyes never leave her, bouncing back and forth between her eyes and lips. He then says in a low voice that’s unlike anything she’s heard from him before. “Solana….”

There’s something different about the way he says her name, something more sincere, something almost….vulnerable. 

Roman suddenly has both hands on her hips, holding her, just as her nervous hand moves to lay her palm against his chest. 

His eyes instantly shut at her touch. Interactions with anything regarding Rhodes have always done something to Roman emotionally, but it’s always been something he can manage relatively well. Something simple and easy. There’s nothing simple and easy about whatever the fuck is coursing through him at having her so close to him, having her touch, soft and unsure as the expression in her eyes. 

She doesn’t know what to make of his eyes closing nor does she have time to consider what to make of that because an image, a flashback of a different kind of touch, a much more painful, visceral touch shoots to the forefront of her mind.

And her chest starts tightening, that fear drawing back up. 

“I–I can’t.” Because as much as some part of her, albeit big or small, likes this, likes being close to him, feels safe being this close to thim, another part, much larger and much stronger, can't handle being this close to him. “I’m sorry.” Eyes watering, she breaks away, Dulce is quickly behind her, Solana reaching to hold the puppy as she dashes up the stairs. 

Roman sits unsure, confused, angry. He stands up, pacing across the floor, hands up and on the side of his head before his fist slams against the refrigerator door. He curses, but not from the blow. That shit doesn’t hurt. 

His reaction and frustration is directed solely toward the fact that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s feeling right now.

The same thing Solana is struggling with as she sits on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest, silently crying into her thighs.

Both of them wondering the same exact thing:

What the hell just happened?

[moonpascal]

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER THREE I series masterlist WC: 5.6k

WARNINGS:

angst, language, nose bleed, headaches, asshole parents, pov switch, smoking, ron’s mean, roommate oc, flashback is italicized, let me know if i missed any

AUTHORS NOTE:

big thanks to the amazing @amiableness and @mischievousmoony for reading and helping me with this chapter! i love you both so much! couldn’t do it without you both!

hopefully this answers some questions you guys had! i had fun writing this!

After a restless night, you wake up feeling somewhat refreshed, though a faint unease still lingers, like a shadow just out of sight. You push the feeling aside, blaming it on the inevitable tension of the upcoming war. No one could expect to feel fully relaxed until it’s all over.

Determined to shake off the dread, you pull on your house uniform and head out to meet the trio in your usual spot, hoping the familiar routine will help steady your nerves.

As you fumble with your crooked tie, cursing under your breath at its refusal to cooperate, you’re so absorbed in the task that you don’t notice someone approaching until it’s almost too late. You barely manage to stop yourself from crashing into them. When you look up, it’s Luna, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watches you wrestle with the stubborn knot.

“Morning,” she says softly, her voice like a gentle breeze. “Your tie seems to be having a bit of a rebellion.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “It’s not the only thing,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Luna steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours as she takes over the task of fixing your tie. “There,” she says, her touch light but sure. “Sometimes, things just need a little extra patience.”

You’re about to thank her when she suddenly tilts her head, looking at you with that faraway gaze she’s known for.

“I think today will be important,” she muses, as if she’s sharing a secret with the universe.

You blink, caught off guard. “What makes you say that?”

Luna smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Just a feeling,” she replies, before turning and drifting away as if pulled by some unseen force, leaving you standing there, tie now perfectly straight, and the uneasy feeling from before somehow softened by her presence.

Reeling from your conversation with Luna, you continue walking through the castle until you spot Hermione and Ron waiting at your usual spot. But there’s no sign of Harry, which is strange—he’s always the first to arrive.

“Where’s Harry?” you ask, looking around.

“Forgot something in the library,” Ron replies, rolling his eyes. “Said he’d meet us there.”

You nod, though Ron’s irritation catches you off guard. He must’ve had a rough morning already.

The three of you head to the Great Hall and find your seats. As soon as you sit down, you start piling food onto your plate. After missing lunch and dinner yesterday, you’re starving.

The chatter of the hall is a welcome distraction, and as you bite into a piece of bacon, the savory flavor makes you sigh in contentment.

As you chew, you turn to Hermione, eager to share something that’s been on your mind. “Guess what weird piece of clothing I found in my dorm last night?” you ask, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

Hermione raises an eyebrow, already playing along. “Don’t tell me it was Grace again?”

“It was Grace!” you laugh, enjoying how well she knows your roommate’s antics. “I found a Slytherin tie and a couple of jumpers by my bed. Honestly, I hope they didn’t do anything on my bed,” you add, making a face.

Hermione’s eyes widen, but before she can respond, you remember something else. “Oh, and I’ve been meaning to ask you guys,” you say, pulling a small locket from under your shirt.

You fumble with the chain a bit, trying to unsnag it from the loose thread on your tie. “Do you remember where I got this locket?”

You hold it up, letting the gold catch the light as you rotate it in your fingers. Ron opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get a word out, Harry suddenly appears at your side, his expression tense.

“Ron, Hermione, I need to talk to you—now,” Harry says, his voice urgent. He grabs both of them by the shoulders, startling all three of you.

“What’s going on?” you ask, but Harry’s already pulling them to their feet.

“Sorry, Trouble. We’ll be right back,” he says quickly before dragging them out of the hall, leaving you behind.

You watch them go, feeling a pang of exclusion. They’ve always had their secrets, but it still stings to be left out. You poke at your food, appetite waning, and glance around the Great Hall at the other students, all absorbed in their own lives. The noise that was comforting a moment ago now feels distant and hollow.

As you finish what you can manage, the morning owl post arrives, letters and packages dropping onto the tables. You’re surprised when two letters land in front of you instead of the usual one. You pick up the one from your parents first, already bracing yourself for the sharp words you know are coming. Carefully, you break the seal and unfold the letter.

“We heard you had an accident and fell. That is no excuse to fall behind in your studies. Make sure you catch up on any missed work immediately and seek extra credit if possible. You need to follow in your sister’s footsteps or you’ll never amount to anything—”

The words blur as a sharp pain stabs through your head. Your vision swims, and the hall around you seems to tilt.

You blink, trying to clear your head, when you see Theodore standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you.

“What are you doing out here?” you mutter, your voice thick with the remnants of the pain.

“I could ask you the same, Tesoro,” he replies, stepping closer. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern in it. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the courtyard.

You turn away, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m not in the mood, Nott.”

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he reaches out, gently catching your arm as you start to move away. “Hey, I’m not here to cause trouble,” he says softly. “Just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

For a moment, you consider brushing him off, but something in his voice makes you pause. You sigh, the fight draining out of you as you sink back down onto the bench.

He sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. The silence stretches between you, but it doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected. After a while, you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket and hand it to him without a word.

He takes it, glancing at you before he starts reading. You watch his expression harden as he scans the lines, his jaw tightening with each word. When he’s finished, he folds the letter neatly and hands it back to you.

“They’re wrong, you know,” he says quietly. “You’re worth more than that.”

You look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” you whisper, though the words feel inadequate.

Theodore leans back, looking up at the sky. “You know, sometimes burning things like that helps,” he says casually, as if suggesting the most normal thing in the world. “It’s like telling them to go to hell.”

You blink, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Burn it?”

He nods. “Yeah. Why keep something that only hurts you?”

You consider his words for a moment, then slowly nod. “Yeah, okay. Let’s burn it.”

A small smile tugs at his lips as you take your wand out, feeling a little lighter. “Incendio,” you whisper, and the letter catches fire, the flames consuming the harsh words. You watch as the paper crumples and turns to ash, a strange sense of relief washing over you.

“Thanks, Theodore,” you say, glancing at him with a genuine smile. Somehow, he’s made the weight on your chest feel a little lighter.

“Trouble! Trouble!” Harry’s urgent voice pulls you back to reality. You’re still in the Great Hall, with Harry gripping your shoulders, his face etched with concern.

“What… what happened?” you ask, feeling disoriented. Your hand instinctively moves to your face, where you feel the warm, sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

“You’re bleeding,” Harry says, his eyes wide. “We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey, now.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, pulling away slightly. “I can go on my own. You should get to class.”

Harry hesitates, worry etched on his face, but Hermione steps in, gently pushing him aside. “I’ll stay with her,” she says, giving Harry a reassuring nod.

As you wipe the blood from your nose, Hermione takes you by the arm and guides you out of the Great Hall. You can feel the weight of curious stares from your classmates, but you focus on Hermione’s calm presence beside you.

“I don’t want to see Madam Pomfrey,” you start to protest, a hint of anxiety creeping into your voice. You know you should go, but something inside you resists. That vivid memory from earlier—it felt so real. But why was Theodore Nott, of all people, in it?

“I know,” Hermione replies softly, her voice soothing. “We’ll go to your dorm instead. You can rest there.”

Her understanding surprises you, as if she knows exactly what’s weighing on your mind. You try to piece together the memory. It lingers, just out of reach, teasing you with its importance.

You’re lost in thought, your surroundings blurring into insignificance until Hermione pulls you into your dorm room. She sits you down on your rumpled bed, her face etched with concern.

“Hermione, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to steady your racing thoughts as you notice the tension in her posture.

Hermione takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with how to begin.

“Something happened… something we didn’t want you to find out like this.”

A cold knot forms in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, then says carefully, “The fall you think you had… it wasn’t a fall. You were hit by a spell—by accident.”

Your mind races, trying to make sense of her words. “A spell? What kind of spell?”

“A memory charm,” Hermione says quietly, her eyes locking onto yours. “It was meant to erase specific memories. But it didn’t go as planned, and you were caught in the crossfire.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “A memory charm… but I remember everything, don’t I?”

Hermione shakes her head slightly. “Not everything. We think it’s caused gaps, places where something important used to be but isn’t anymore.”

Your heart pounds as you try to wrap your mind around what she’s saying. “What did I forget? How much have I lost?”

“That’s the problem,” Hermione says, her voice gentle. “We can’t exactly tell you what’s missing. We’re trying to figure it out, but it’s tricky. We didn’t want to tell you until we had more answers.”

You feel a mix of fear and anger rising. “So, you were just going to let me walk around not knowing?”

“No!” Hermione says quickly. “We were going to tell you, we just needed time to understand it ourselves. But we found you unresponsive and bleeding…”

You sit in stunned silence, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What now?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ll work through this together,” Hermione promises. “We’ll do everything we can to help you recover what you’ve lost, or at least figure out what happened.”

Her words are meant to comfort you, but the reality of missing pieces of your life—of not knowing what’s been taken—leaves you feeling detached. Hermione remains by your side, her presence a steady source of reassurance as you struggle to process this overwhelming revelation.

Theos pov: prior day

Theo hadn’t had much time to process the chaos Potter had unleashed. The shock of learning that you no longer remembered him, followed by the sting of your angry outburst, had left him feeling numb, as if he were moving through the day in a fog. He wasn’t even sure how he had made it back to the dorm. Everything felt surreal, as if he were watching someone else’s life unravel before his eyes.

He barely registered walking into the common room. Even Mattheo’s attempts to get his attention seemed distant and muted, like he was hearing them through water. It wasn’t until Mattheo physically grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a shake that Theo snapped back to reality.

“Salazar, Theo, you really zoned out there,” Mattheo said with a hint of concern, though he tried to keep it light. His eyes scanned the room. “Where’s Trouble?”

The question hit Theo like a punch to the gut. His body tensed, and the words he needed to say seemed to lodge in his throat. How could he possibly explain what had happened? How could he tell his best mate that he’d been secretly fighting against everything their house stood for, and that you—his girlfriend—had been caught in the crossfire?

Mattheo would probably tell him that he deserved it, that this was the price of betraying his house. Or worse, he might report it to his father, who would ensure that Voldemort dealt with Theo personally.

“She… she had a nasty fall yesterday,” Theo forced the words out, his voice strained. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy Mattheo, but his friend wasn’t so easily convinced.

“That why you disappeared last night? Is she okay?” Mattheo asked, his tone more serious now, his earlier humor fading.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Theo muttered, the words barely audible. It was the first time he’d spoken them aloud, and doing so made it all feel too real, too painful.

“What do you mean?” Mattheo asked, his expression hardening as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on him. Trouble who had been a pain in his ass and was finally tolerating you. Theo didn’t want to say it again, didn’t want to feel that same stabbing pain in his chest. But Mattheo wasn’t letting it go.

“Theo, what do you mean?” he pressed, his voice sharp and demanding.

“She remembers everything but me! Our entire relationship—gone!” Theo snapped, the frustration and despair that had been building up since the incident finally boiling over. He shoved Mattheo back, his fists clenched tightly as if ready for a fight.

The anger, the helplessness, the grief—they all mingled together, pushing him to the brink. Tears threatened to spill, but he refused to break down, not in front of Mattheo, not in front of anyone but you.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me! I’m trying to help,” Mattheo shot back, stepping closer as if to challenge him, his tone now serious and firm. Theo scoffed in response, rolling his eyes as he pushed past him, desperate to reach the solitude of his room.

Theo slammed the door behind him with a force that reverberated through the room, but he barely noticed the sound. He couldn’t breathe; it felt like the walls were closing in on him, suffocating him.

Everything he cared about—everything that mattered—had been ripped away, and he had no idea how to get it back.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in the chaotic disarray of his belongings, though none of it seemed to register fully. His bed, unmade from where you had slept just the night before, looked like a mocking reminder of what he had lost.

Your tie, casually draped over his desk, next to the book you two had been reading together every night, felt like a relic of a time that had suddenly been erased. Little parchment notes, filled with love and encouragement, were scattered across the surfaces, each one a painful echo of a relationship that now existed only in his memory.

It was unbearable.

Desperate for an outlet, Theo grabbed the nearest object—a chair—and hurled it at the floor with all his strength. The wood splintered and cracked, pieces flying in every direction. A sharp shard sliced across his cheek, but the pain was a mere blip against the emotions raging inside him. It wasn’t enough; the destruction did nothing to quell the storm.

His eyes locked onto the fire poker resting by the fireplace, an innocent object that suddenly felt like the perfect instrument for his fury. He seized it, gripping it with both hands, and began to swing wildly at his bed.

The metal struck the wooden pillars with a resounding crash, splintering the supports, shattering the structure into ruins. His yells filled the room, raw and primal, as he tore through the space, obliterating everything within reach.

When there was nothing left to destroy, when the room was nothing but a mess of shattered wood, glass shards, and torn fabric, Theo collapsed against what remained of his bed. His back slid down the broken frame until he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the debris of his breakdown.

The numbness crept in, dulling the edges of his anger and grief, leaving him feeling hollow and lost. He stared blankly at the wall, his mind on the brink of spiraling again, unable to grasp what he was supposed to do next. How could he fix something so deeply broken?

His gaze shifted, and something caught his eye—a flash of color peeking out from under the bed. It was your jumper, partially hidden but unmistakable. He reached for it quickly, almost desperately, and when his fingers closed around the familiar fabric, he pulled it close. Dusting it off, he clutched it to his chest, his breath hitching as he buried his face in the soft material. Your scent lingered faintly, a comforting trace of you that seemed to cut through the haze of despair.

As he inhaled deeply, the tears finally came, silent and unchecked, sliding down his face as he held your jumper tighter. It was the first real release he’d allowed himself, the first moment he’d let the weight of everything truly hit him.

He had to find a way to fix this, to make things right. After his first class, he’d start working on a plan. He had to see you, make sure you were okay—and selfishly, because he couldn’t stand being apart from you any longer.

Theo rushed to class, almost knocking over several students in his haste. He didn’t bother apologizing; his mind was fixated solely on seeing you.

As he burst through the door, earning a few glances from his peers, his eyes immediately sought you out. There you were, sitting in your usual spot, and for a brief moment, Theo allowed himself to hope that maybe everything would be normal again. But as he approached and took the seat beside you, the tension in your posture made it clear he had been too optimistic.

He tensed in response, trying to keep himself together, even as the nausea of your apparent discomfort around him threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe it was a mistake to come to class instead of diving straight into research. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you like this, not in his current fragile state. But what about you? Were you alright?

Lavender’s voice suddenly cut through his thoughts as she asked how you were doing. Theo’s heart raced, dreading what you might say, what Lavender might tell you.

This wasn’t how you should find out—not after everything that happened this morning. So he quickly cleared his throat, giving Lavender a sharp look that silently begged her to drop the subject.

Luckily, the professor began the lesson before anyone could say more. But Theo wasn’t paying attention; his focus was entirely on you. He watched as you suddenly winced, shutting your eyes tightly and massaging your temples. His heart clenched in his chest. He knew you suffered from migraines, but this one seemed different, more intense.

Normally, Theo would offer comfort, holding your hand or rubbing your back—anything to help ease the pain. You had always said his touch brought you relief, that his warmth helped you get through the worst of it.

But now, how could he offer that comfort when you seemed so distant? The image you had of him now wasn’t the same as it was yesterday. Still, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

He leaned over, pretending to need more ink, subtly brushing against you. To his relief, he noticed your body relax slightly, and he felt a small surge of pride. It seemed your body still recognized him, even if your mind was struggling.

He stayed close for the rest of the class, finding some solace in being near you, even if it wasn’t the same. When the lesson finally ended, you remained seated, your breathing shaky. Theo wrestled with himself before finally finding the courage to speak.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

His voice seemed to pull you from whatever trance you were in, and you answered him hesitantly, clearly torn between confiding in him and holding back. Theo could see the conflict in your eyes, mirroring the turmoil in his own heart. To be so close to you yet feel so distant was a cruel irony.

Tentatively, he reached out, resting his hand on yours. The familiar softness of your skin was almost too much for him to bear. The urge to pull you into his arms was overwhelming, but he resisted. And then, to his dismay, you apologized.

Of course, you would apologize. Theo deflated, disappointment crashing over him. For a fleeting moment, it had felt like everything was normal again, like this was just the aftermath of a minor argument. But reality was far harsher.

This wasn’t a simple fix, and Theo wasn’t going to get an easy resolution.

Accepting your apology was a small hurdle, but saying your name instead of the endearing terms he used to call you—amore, tesoro—hurt the most. It felt foreign, like a painful reminder of how deeply the spell had affected you.

He could see that you wanted to say more, but then you recoiled, almost tipping backward in your chair. Instinctively, Theo reached out and caught you before you could hurt yourself further.

“Whoa, easy there. What’s happening?” he nearly let amore slip out, but caught himself just in time. Before he could say anything else, you excused yourself and hurried out of the classroom. Theo watched you go, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure, wishing he could take away whatever pain you were feeling.

Determined, Theo hastily grabbed his bag and decided to skip the rest of his classes. He needed to get to the library. Madam Pince could take all the points from Slytherin for all he cared. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Theo stood frozen in the library, staring at the seemingly endless shelves of books. He didn’t know where to start, and the thought of asking Madam Pince for help made him grimace. He didn’t have the time or patience to search the entire library by himself. With a frustrated huff, he yanked off his robe, tossed his bag onto a nearby table, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his nerves before reluctantly seeking out Pince.

“Mr. Nott, shouldn’t you be in class?” Irma Pince’s voice cut through his thoughts, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“What are the call numbers for any information on the Obliviate spell?” Theo snapped, too agitated to explain himself.

Her eyes widened slightly at his sharp tone, clearly displeased with his lack of manners. “Ten points from Slytherin, Nott,” she replied icily, before guiding him to the section he needed.

After a short walk, she pointed to the relevant shelves. “This better be for research only and not some mischief you boys are planning,” she warned, her gaze stern and unyielding.

Theo barely concealed his irritation, rolling his eyes in blatant annoyance. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, brushing past her to scan the shelves for useful books.

Pince stalked off, leaving him to his task. He gathered a few books and an old Daily Prophet article, his arms heavy with the weight of them. He dropped the books onto the table, pulled out some parchment, and prepared to take notes—anything that might help fix the mess he was in.

Starting with The Standard Book of Spells, Theo flipped through the pages until he found the section on the Memory Charm.

“The Memory Charm (Obliviate), also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, was a charm that could be used to erase specific memories from an individual’s mind. It was different from the spell that created false memories.”

Theo sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. This wasn’t new information—it was basic knowledge. Moving on, he opened the Daily Prophet article, hoping for something more useful.

“Obliviate is the incantation for a Memory Charm, a spell that erases specific memories from an individual’s mind. It is one of the most potent and potentially dangerous spells, as it can lead to severe and permanent memory loss if used incorrectly.”

His stomach churned as he read on, the words making his anxiety worse.

“The strength of the Obliviate spell depends on the caster, and in some cases, it can destroy memory so thoroughly that a witch or wizard may lose their sense of identity.”

Theo’s heart pounded in his chest. The thought of you losing yourself completely was unbearable. He couldn’t let that happen. For both your sakes—and Harry’s—this had to be fixable.

After jotting down some notes, Theo grabbed the next book, A History of Magic, and started skimming through it. Most of the information was redundant, but then his eyes caught something that made his blood run cold.

“Reversing the effects of Obliviate is extremely difficult, if not impossible in some cases. Restoration of memories may require highly specialized magical treatment and is not always successful. Memory Charms could be broken through torture.”

Theo nearly gagged. The mere thought of you being hurt, let alone tortured, was more than he could bear. He forced himself to push those dark thoughts aside, continuing to scan the text. His eyes widened as he came across a bold warning.

“Caution: If the spell is carelessly cast, the brain will be in a delicate state. If you stress this person too much or aren’t careful when trying to restore their mind/memories, the results could be unpredictable, even leading to a complete breakdown of the mind.”

“Side effects may include headaches, fainting, vomiting, bloody noses, and/or completely losing themselves. Keep the person calm, distract them, or give them a Sleeping Draught.”

Theo’s heart seemed to stop. He’d seen you suffer from a headache earlier, and now he was certain that the spell had left you in this delicate state. Despair gnawed at him as he realized how little progress he was making. The hope of finding a safe way to restore your memories was slipping through his fingers.

Reluctantly, Theo acknowledged that he needed to tell Harry what he’d found. Your friends might make things worse if they tried to help without knowing the risks. Gathering his things, Theo abruptly stood up, leaving the mess on the table behind as he hurried out of the library. He needed to find those blithering idiots—your friends—before they unintentionally made things worse.

But as Theo stepped into the hallway, he was surprised to find the castle cloaked in darkness. Hours had slipped away unnoticed, swallowed by his mounting anxiety and frantic search for answers. The realization hit him hard—he’d spent the entire day buried in books with nothing to show for it but a sense of helplessness.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. The weight of his failure pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn’t afford to crumble now. Tomorrow, he’d have to face them—your friends. They’d have to work together, whether he liked it or not.

Theo took a deep breath, the resolve hardening within him. First thing tomorrow, Theo vowed, he’d get them involved. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t stop until everything was set right.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough. Theo barely slept, his mind too consumed with worry about you. The absence of your familiar presence beside him made the night feel endless—he longed to wake up and see your peaceful face, to trace the contours of your features like he used to. What he wouldn’t give to have that back.

He needed to reach Harry quickly; there was no time to waste. Theo jumped out of bed and dressed hurriedly, ignoring the curious glances from his dorm mates—he was never up this early. 

Bounding up the stairs to the Gryffindor entrance, he didn’t care that he irritated the portrait lady as she reluctantly let him in. Thankfully, he found Harry’s dorm room without much trouble, and quietly crept inside. Theo moved to Harry’s bed, clamping a hand over his mouth, startling him awake.

Harry jolted, wide-eyed and reaching for his wand before realizing it was Theo, which did little to ease his nerves. Theo, unbothered by Harry’s panic, rolled his eyes and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. He motioned for Harry to follow, stepping back toward the door and waiting for him to get dressed.

Once Harry left a note for Ron, the two headed out, Harry nervously trailing behind Theo. They made their way to a secluded corner of the library, where Theo suddenly stopped, causing Harry to nearly bump into him. Theo turned to face him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Things are worse than I thought, Potter,” Theo began, his tone cold. “Her condition is more fragile than we realized.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though the guilt of what he had done was eating away at him. You had always been there for him, and now, because of him, you were suffering.

“Because you didn’t mean to cast the spell on her, it left her mind in a delicate state,” Theo explained, barely containing his frustration. “We can’t let anything stress her out. The side effects could be devastating, and we could lose her completely if we don’t handle this right.”

Harry nodded, already sensing where this conversation was headed. Despite the tension between them, he knew they had no choice but to work together. “What do we do?”

Theo sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know yet, but what I do know is that I’m the only thing missing from her memories. We need to keep researching.”

“We should tell the others too,” Harry suggested, realizing the importance of getting everyone on the same page.

Theo agreed, though with a note of urgency. “You go get them. I needed to talk to you first before they start interrupting.”

As Harry left to gather Ron and Hermione, Theo stepped out into the corridor, his nerves on edge. It had been two days since he last had a cigarette, and the stress was getting to him. He pulled one out, lit it, and inhaled deeply, letting the familiar sensation calm him as the cool morning air brushed against his face.

His thoughts drifted to you—how you’d always hold your breath when he smoked, jokingly scolding him but never actually asking him to quit. You hated the smell, but you’d still kiss him if he asked. The memory brought a small, bittersweet smile to his face.

As he spotted the trio approaching out of the corner of his eye, Theo sighed and flicked the cigarette out the window.

“So, what does this tosser want?” Ron muttered as they neared. Ron had never liked Theo, always suspecting he had ulterior motives with you.

Theo rolled his eyes. “I’m here to make sure you lot don’t make things worse,” he retorted.

Ron glared at him, ready to snap back, but Hermione quickly intervened. “You mean Trouble?” she asked, concern clear in her voice.

Theo bristled at the nickname—he always found it annoying and unoriginal. “Who else?” he replied, irritation seeping into his tone. “You have to keep her calm. There are too many risks involved, and we can’t afford to make her condition worse.”

“How do we fix it?” Hermione asked, her worry for you evident.

“We don’t know yet,” Harry admitted, “but we can’t stress Trouble out, while we figure it out.”

Theo added, his voice firm, “If she starts to realize she’s lost memories, don’t tell her what they are—especially not about me. She doesn’t remember anything about us, only what came before. If you spring it on her, it could be catastrophic.”

“Why should she remember you anyway? I’d say that’s a win, don’t you think?” Ron sneered, a smirk playing on his lips.

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly stepped in front of Ron, blocking Theo from moving closer. “He’s joking! We’re going to fix this,” Harry assured, trying to defuse the situation.

Theo’s jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his temper in check. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, and rolled his head to the side before continuing.

He explained the potential side effects, what to watch out for, and how to keep you calm if a situation arose. They agreed to meet regularly throughout the week to share their findings and come up with a plan.

With everything said, the trio left Theo standing in the hallway as they headed back to the Great Hall—and to you.

Theo watched them go, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a stone. As much as he disliked relying on Harry and his friends, he knew they were all you had now. And if they didn’t handle this right, it could ruin everything.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he tried to clear his thoughts. He needed to stay focused, to keep his head straight if they were going to find a solution. There was no room for mistakes, no second chances. They had to get this right or lose you forever.

If you enjoyed, please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ synchronized with you ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: car sex is for the young and the reckless. you both are none of those. content warnings: making out, foul language, suggestions of sex, MDNI, this is a 18+ blurb. actually no one interact nor talk to me for several hours i don't know what i'm doing. word count: 500

Your efforts of saying his name were easily muffled by your own panting, Aaron’s hands gripping hard on your ass, enough to leave a mark, you were sure. His lips went on with the same roughness on your neck and on your shoulder, leaving love bites you would’ve to conceal with makeup the next day like a teen.

Your hips unintentionally pressed your body down to his, needing the friction of his rough jeans on your thin panties. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by him and one of his hands quickly go from gripping on your flesh to pulling your dress up, out of the way, hanging just at the end of your back. His thumb immediately touch your pulsing cunt over the soaked spot on your underwear.

You can’t help but moan into his ear, not loud enough to anyone outside the car hear, but enough to get him harder under you. His mind drifts from a moment in a flashback, the wet dreams he used to have as a hormonal adolescent come to him, the times he jerked himself off thinking about your lips glued to his, he smirked to himself, arousal flooding him in the knowledge that he would finally have you. 

Or so he thought, your hands leaving his hair to push him back to the seat, flat to his chest making him groan loudly in disappointment. “D’you really think I’m about to let you fuck me in a car?” Aaron’s pleading eyes say one thing only, yes, he thinks so, he hopes so. “First of all, indecent exposure is illegal in the state of Virginia.” You’re being purposefully cruel, appealing to the law abiding side of him while simultaneously maintaining pressure on his crotch. But it was true, a law professor and a supervisory special agent from the FBI being caught and being put on a sex offender list was not the ideal love story path. “Second of all, I want some romance, you old man.” He rolls his eyes with a huff, simply because once more, you were right, it wouldn’t be right to have the first time you slept together be like some quicky a broke college couple would have during finals week. 

“Get the fuck off of me then, woman.” Aaron replies finally, chuckling and pushing you off of his lap and into the passenger seat. “Let’s go back to my apartment. Should I get you some flowers on the way, your majesty?” He asks, uncomfortably pulling up the material of jeans from his thighs, readjusting himself as he mentally tried to get rid of your hard work. 

You deny the need of the flowers, knowing he was teasing you, but he gets them anyway, and candles, and a nice wine, and he makes sure to prep his bedroom in the most romantic way he could in 20 minutes, just before pulling you to him and pushing you down his bed, more than ready to make you his as well.

[obsessedvibee]

Humble Beginnings

18+, MDNI, NSFW

Warnings: smut, one curse, dry humping, p in v, unprotected sex, cream pie, impregnation kink, awkward boner if you squint

Pairing: Billy the Kid & reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Billy and readers wedding is approaching and hormones are rising as the day approaches. Oh, and her dad is over protective & an annoying cock block. This also accidentally turned into to a whole flashback memory sorta ordeal?

Enjoy!

We’ve only been moved into the new house for a week now. It was small, but it was enough; a table and chairs for meal times, a bed in the second room, running water into the kitchen, and even windows on each side of the house. 

Billy insisted on building a home for us himself. Jesse and the gang helped him every chance they could leading up to our wedding. Chopping down trees, cutting the pieces down to size. It became a ritual every evening, helping Billy pick the splinters out of his hands.

Everyday I made lunches for all the boys, and did my best to keep them all hydrated. I felt it was the least I could do to thank them. 

I only managed to deliver the food alone the first time, until my father insisted on coming with me everyday, when I rode up. “I don’t trust any of those men as far as I can shoot a shotgun.” Was his reasoning.

I’d given up trying to argue him on the subject. He wasn’t exactly fond of Billy and I, but since we announced our engagement, he was trying to come around some. 

I couldn’t blame him being his only daughter; my mother passing shortly after I was born.

Billy would never admit his unease when my father was around, but I could see the way he would square his shoulders. He wouldn’t touch me any more than to hold my hand to steady me as I got down from the wagon when I made it to the property. It was endearing, but frustrating. I wanted him alone. The closer our wedding date became, the less time we had each other to ourselves. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss him. I wanted to feel his hands pressing me closer to him because he just couldn’t get enough. I wanted to throw all my inhibitions to the wind and jump his bones. I don't know how he managed to keep himself so put together. I started to wonder if he even wanted me in that way.

My mind kept wandering deeper into my imagination, wondering and yearning. Imagining him  stripping away the last barrier between us, his strong arms holding himself above me. 

The older women at tea time were getting looser with their tongues. I’m sure they meant well, trying to give marriage advice and how a wife should be, trying to prepare me; but sharing tips about the marriage bed was not something I wanted to discuss with anyone, let alone them.

One afternoon, I finally gathered the courage to question Billy when we found ourselves alone while we ate our lunch on top of a hill that overlooked the skeleton of our home. The other boys and my father were a couple hundred feet away out of ear shot, but he could still easily see us.

“Do you want me?” I blurted.

His eyes darted to me, stopping mid chew, “‘course, darling.” He resumed eating. “I wouldn’t have asked for your fathers blessing if I didn’t.”

My heart warmed at his answer, but I wasn’t sure he picked up on what I meant. I toyed with a loose thread on my dress as I sat faced with the task of asking him more directly to get my point across. I quietly watched as he licked the last few crumbs off his fingers before leaning back on the tree behind him, tipping his hat over his eyes to block the sweltering sun. “Care to humor me with your thoughts, dear?”

“I meant sexually.”

His shaking chest gave away his small chuckle, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small grin.

My fingers moved from the thread of my dress to busy themselves with a loose strand of hair. Chewing the inside of my cheek, my anxiety continued to gnaw at me as he remained quiet.

A whistle from down below signaled break time was over. I packed the few items back into the basket I brought over, my anxiety was quickly turning to embarrassment

I stood quickly, about to make a beeline for the wagon to hightail it out of there when Billy gently grabbed my arm stopping me. Stepping in front of me, his body shielded me from the blinding sun and any eyes that could be watching. His face was suddenly so close to mine I could smell the sweet fragrance of the lemonade he’d been drinking on his breath, and then his tongue was in my mouth. I stumbled back a step in surprise but was quickly steadied as his large hands grasped me. His tongue prodded gently, almost as an apology for the sudden intrusion, and before I could think further, he broke our lips apart. He held my head between his strong hands, his thumb gently brushing my cheek. His face was so close to mine I had nowhere to look but into his shining blues. “More than you will ever know.” He licked his lips, slowly placing his hat back onto his head. He gently began guiding me back down the hill, bringing me out of my sudden haze. His next words were so low I almost missed them. “I just don’t know if I could stop myself if we were really alone.”

**********

A few weeks later our house was finally completed, and my father invited everyone over for a celebratory dinner. I was in charge of making all the food, while father attended to the field outside. Sweat ran down my face while the fire burned in the stove as the Kansas sun tried to bake the house itself. I kept busy making pies, bread, and cleaning the fresh vegetables from the garden. Seeing Billy’s shining face tonight kept my heart thudding just a little faster. Moving day would be here before we knew it. My father even slaughtered a pig for the occasion.

Soon enough the setting sun began to shine in the west window, and I gave the last touches to the food. I just managed to clean myself up, ridding my body of the sweat and changing into a dry clean dress, when I heard the thundering hooves of horses getting closer. Putting one last pin in my hair I hurried to the front room to greet them all. 

Billy was the first to walk in. “There's my pretty girl,” he grinned, scooping me up and spinning me around, earning a laugh from me. He set me back down, placing a heavy kiss to my lips. His smile was contagious as he pulled away, an immediate blush rising to my cheeks upon hearing a whistle from somewhere beside us as everyone filed in. My fingers gently brushed my lips still feeling his on mine. Knowing he felt the same way that I have been the last few weeks made my stomach flutter.

I startled as my fathers voice bellowed, “let’s eat!”

-

The celebration wore on well after dinner was over, and the dishes were put away. Slowly, one by one the men left, and the house became a little bit quieter, when I felt Billy’s leg begin bouncing under the table. No doubt because the crowd was dwindling down and soon it would only be the three of us. Without thinking I reached over to place my hand on his thigh to comfort him. I knew my father could be intimidating, but I thought they were a bit more comfortable by now.

He froze feeling the heat from my hand through his worn pants, his hand gripping mine keeping it in place. I glanced over at him, searching his nervous eyes in question. He swallowed hard, his face remaining impassive. I worried for him wondering if he was suddenly feeling unwell, but he didn’t look ill to me. Just some sort of sudden nerves.  

Soon my father was walking the last guest to the door, and Billy tugged my hand, pulling it up to his mouth, pressing kisses along each knuckle. “I need you to do something for me tonight,” he murmured.

“What is it?”

He let go of my hand reaching to play with a lock of my hair that rested against my chest, his eyes watching intently. Goosebumps spread when his skin brushed my collar bone. “Meet me behind the barn after your father goes to bed.”

Before I could question him any, father re-appeared, and Billy stood, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. I rose with him, “I’ll walk Billy out.”

My father nodded, leaving us. I reached out for Billy’s hand, but instead, bumped into his hat. I looked over in question when I noticed it was pressed to his crotch when it dawned on me, my eyes widening.

The nervousness. The grip his hand had on mine.

What had I done to cause such a rise in him? I bit my lip as a smile threatened to emerge, looking up into his bashful face. I so badly wanted to say something but remained quiet so as to not alert my father, who I’m sure was eavesdropping in the next room over. 

I walked him to the door with a whole new confidence, his hand holding mine. I turned to kiss him goodbye, but before he parted ways and headed out the door he whispered, “I’ll be waiting for you, darling.”

For the next half hour I waited in my bedroom in anticipated agony. I don’t think I’ve ever looked in the mirror so many times. Letting my hair down, putting it back up. Placing a dab of perfume on my wrists and neck. I’d lost complete control of my thoughts since he left, my heart pounding and thighs clenching, wondering how far he would lead me tonight. I decided to put another dab between my breasts. I let my hair down again, letting the brown waves cascade down my shoulders.

I heard the faint squeaks of the old bed frame coming from the other room, signaling my father had gone to bed for the night. My heart jumped in excitement. I stood, glancing over myself one more time, giving the neckline of my dress a good tug, trying to show a bit more cleavage.

I crept down the hall, quickly making my way to the front door, shutting it carefully behind me. I padded down the front steps, scampering across the property, not feeling completely safe until I reached the barn, blocking the view from the house. I walked around back, Billy’s horse Sugar snorting in surprise at my sudden appearance. 

Billy was sitting on an old tree stump, whittling away at a piece of wood with his pocket knife, but that was quickly forgotten about and placed to the side when his eyes darted to me. He stalked towards me with a ravenous look in his eyes. He grabbed me pulling my body deep into him, capturing my lips in his. A soft moan of relief escaped me as he continued his attack, his tongue easily finding its way back into my mouth. His fingers carded into my hair gently guiding me back until I was pressed into the wall of the barn. 

“Billy,” I panted into his mouth.

The full moon from the night sky illuminated his features once he pulled away. His jaw flexed, and his eyes were wild yet soft, holding a look I’ve never seen before, making my insides tingle.

“I want you every minute of every waking moment,” he rasped, “and every moment I’m not awake I’m dreaming of you.” His thumb pulled my bottom lip free from my teeth, before leaning in and connecting us once again. He gently rolled his hips into me, teasing what was to come, his mouth working its way to my neck. I began to fumble blindly with his suspenders, attempting to push them off his shoulders, all while lifting my head to allow him better access. 

I could feel him growing against me, when he paused to look into my eyes. We both were panting lightly, his hat lopsided on his head. I reached up to fix it for him. “Darlin’, I won't be able to stop myself if we go any further.”

I nodded, a grin pulling at my mouth, the burning coals simmering beneath my belly. I toyed with the collar of his shirt before speaking. “Does she have to watch?” I casually nodded towards Sugar.

He let out a short laugh, pulling away to lead me into the barn. 

Grabbing the lantern at the entrance, he led me inside, making our way up the ladder to the loft. He wasted no time picking up where we left off. I worked his shirt over his wide shoulders and he began fingering the buttons at the back of my dress. 

He groaned in frustration as it slowed everything down once again, giving the material an impatient tug. “Don’t you dare ruin this dress, Billy,” I warned.

Finally it was open enough and he gently tugged the dress off my shoulders. Pressing his warm lips to my shoulder, I turned to face him again. 

His eyes danced over my bra covered chest, before meeting my gaze, nervously clearing his throat. 

He sat himself on a stack of hay bales, beckoning for me to sit on his lap. 

I hesitated, the reality of what we were about to do, where we were about to do it struck me. “Billy,” I started, “maybe we shouldn’t-” I gestured around me, “right here?”

“It’s fine, baby, the animals can’t see nothin’,” he beckoned to me, “just come sit on my lap.”

If my hormones wouldn’t have been raging, I probably would have been able to resist him. But I was just a girl who was a bit more than just eager to roll around in the hay (quite literally) with a man as handsome as Billy.

I let him guide me to straddle him, my dampened center placed directly over his waiting member.

The moment he groaned, all the rest of my logical thoughts left. 

In a desperate attempt of getting some much needed friction for himself, he began flexing his hips to further things along. His smoldering eyes were almost too much as he watched my face intently while he guided my hips in a rhythm over himself. He grunted when I moved a little faster, trying to press myself harder into him, aiding the both of us. 

“Sorry it isn’t more romantic,” he murmured between kisses.

I snorted, “you think this isn’t romantic for me? Half naked up in a loft in a barn with a bunch of farm animals below us?”

He nipped at my bottom lip at my snarky remark.

I reached down and pulled my panties to the side letting my clit drag deliciously against the fabric of his trousers, with a sigh.

“Yeah baby,” he encouraged, “make yourself feel good.”

His words stirred the burning coals within me, my hips now moving at a frantic pace, and I was unable to stop, as I felt myself barreling towards the finish.

As the wave crashed over me my mouth opened in a silent scream as I held my breath through the thick of it, finally heaving as I came back down.

“For the record,” I breathed, “I’d let you take me anywhere if I get to feel like that.”

He let me regain myself for a moment before he tapped my thigh telling me to lift myself up. I did as I was told and he made quick work, pushing his clothing down to his thighs exposing his stiff cock. He stroked himself a few times, before holding himself at the base. I guided him to me, gently lowering my heat, slipping his tip inside, feeling myself stretch around the intrusion. I easily accommodated him, my body more than ready. I glanced up as I sank down, enveloping the last inch of him. His eyes were trained down between us as I held my skirts to my chest letting him watch. I remained still, letting my body relax completely. He tore his gaze away from where we were connected to look me in the eyes, “I fucking love you,” he whispered.

I answered with a desperate kiss, dropping my skirts, and I began to ride him, my hips rising and falling. A soft clapping sound filled the air as my thighs met his with every stroke. 

Neither of us were going to last long, his thumb reaching under my dress quickly working my clit as he started to get close. “Baby-” he panted, “I’m gonna-, you gotta get off-, I’m gonna bust soon.”

His words just turned the heat up in my belly, suddenly overwhelmed with desire for him to fill me up. I wanted him to let himself go inside of me. Doing what our bodies were designed for.

God, it was so hot seeing him so close to losing all control, all because of me.

“Put a baby in me, Billy.”

His brow furrowed and his hips stuttered. “Fuck, baby-” he strained out before he stiffened further. A growl rumbled deep within his chest, every muscle in his body flexing as his high hit him. I finally felt the first warm spurt of his seed draining into me. He shuddered with every wave, a small whimper escaping his throat as the last of his release left his body. He slumped against me, his face pressed to my breasts. 

I pulled his damp curls off of his forehead, scratching his scalp lightly, earning a groan of appreciation.

“You gonna make it?”

He hummed, pulling himself off of me to sit back against the straw. His eyelids drooped a little, his hair a mess. A little smile graced his lips as he watched me. It was the most boyish look I’ve ever seen of him. 

I gently stood, letting his now softened cock slip out of me, a generous amount of his fluid following, “oh god, it’s everywhere.”

“And yet she was begging for it moments ago,” he muttered. I rolled my eyes playfully as he reached in his trousers for a handkerchief, handing it to me. I cleaned myself as best I could, straightening my dress out, while he pulled his trousers back up, slinging his gun belt back over his hips.

“You should just ride around like that all day,” I purred, sliding my hands over his bare shoulders and down his chest.

“Miss,” he grasped my wrists with feigned offence, “I’m about to be a married man.”

“Mmm,” I grinned slyly, “you tell her she’s a lucky lucky gal.” 

He chuckled, pressing his lips to mine, “and I’m a lucky lucky man.”

We shuffled back down the ladder, walking back outside, as Billy shrugged his shirt back on. 

“What if we actually made a baby tonight?” I threw the words out into the air as he mounted Sugar and settled into the saddle.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, darlin’.” He leaned down gently caressing my cheek. 

“Only one more week.”

He tipped his hat, clicking to Sugar coaxing her into a canter, riding off down the worn path.

As I walked back to the house, I couldn’t help but rest my hand on my lower stomach wondering what the future held.

This was kind of fun diving into the late 1800's. I've never written for this time period before. Hopefully it wasn't too shabby. Hope you enjoyed!

Feedback is appreciated!

Need more? Check out my other works! > masterlist

[vidavalor]

I don’t see the alleged handholding on the bus. I don’t. I’m sorry. I’ve watched it so many times. I want to see it. I see Aziraphale’s hand going towards Crowley, but I don’t see any motion from Crowley that suggests he’s holding Aziraphale’s hand.

Are we really, really, REALLY sure they’re holding hands?

Hi there. 💕 Yep. Well, I am, anyway, and I'm happy to share why. I have watermelon salad to share tonight. Ahhh, summer... 🍉

I don't want to assume anything but I've seen the "Crowley doesn't react so they aren't holding hands" comment places before and what I think keeps people from seeing it is the idea that they think that Crowley should have some kind of big reaction because they think this is new. It's not. We aren't watching the very first time that they ever hold hands; we're watching a long-time couple familiar with doing so.

If this were the very first time Aziraphale had ever taken Crowley's hand then I could see why you're saying there should be some kind of reaction. We'd expect him to glance over or for his arm to be seen moving a bit from what of it we could see. On the other hand, if you look at the scene with a different perspective-- one assuming that they're already in a place where holding hands is not unfamiliar territory-- then the whole moment is really set up to reinforce that through showing how comfortable Crowley is with what's happening.

Crowley doesn't have to turn to Aziraphale right away in surprise and we don't need to see his head or arm move because all that's really likely happening is that Crowley is letting Aziraphale hold his hand right where it is resting on his thigh. Maybe he's turned his hand a little to thread their fingers together. Maybe he's just rubbing a thumb over Aziraphale's. We wouldn't see that from our angle because it would just be movement from his wrist down... and that seems to me to be the point of how the scene was shot. The outside view of the bus at this moment exactly? An angle designed to intimate to us that hands are being held and that it is not a rare or new event.

Think about it this way: if they never had held hands before, is Aziraphale just going to take his hand on this bus out of nowhere? Probably not. Is Crowley just going to sit there if Aziraphale did? Probably not. We get two or so seconds after Aziraphale takes his hand before the bus finishes moving out of the frame wherein we could have been shown Crowley having a more surprised reaction if that was what the scene was trying to say but we didn't see one because it seems like that is not what is being said with the scene.

Aziraphale's movements are familiar; he already knows he's permitted to take Crowley's hand whenever he likes and that they both find it comforting. Not only have they just been through all sorts of exhausting craziness over the last few days but Aziraphale was discorporated. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get his body back or how and this is basically the first moment they are alone enough to touch since Adam gave Aziraphale back his body. The hand holding then is a way of showing that Aziraphale needs to both feel grounded in his own body and to touch Crowley (not totally separate things, really...). That speaks to long-time coupledom to me more than it does to something new. If you look at the scene from the perspective that they're already together (just as if you look at most of the series from that perspective), you'll see a lot of subtle things just like this scene that reinforce the idea.

I wrote some stuff awhile back that you can find here about the connections between this scene and the flashback one on the bus earlier in S1 that also might help show how that they're sitting together and holding hands in this scene is set up by the earlier scene, should you be interested in that. Also: the "magic hands" massage joke would also suggest that holding hands in S1's present wouldn't be considered unusual. I think that if they've been making love since ancient Rome, as I wrote about the show suggesting here, liking to hold hands isn't too surprising but I understand from where your doubts are coming. Hope this helps. 💕

[thepunkmuppet]

thinking about an alternate season 7 wherein instead of every potential slayer being hunted and then activated, every past slayer gets brought back to life. I don’t really like post-chosen content anyway, but when I do read / look at it the whole slayer academy, everyone’s a slayer thing is really stupid to me ngl 💀

previous slayers, though… nikki wood and xin rong interacting with spike, actually finding out about the slayer before buffy, slayers with different backgrounds and situations and personalities, KENDRA?! I just love it so much.

you’d be able to focus on a relatively small cast of slayers, much like the potentials, throughout the season. this would include buffy, faith, kendra, nikki, and some other american slayers from varying time periods with a couple interesting international characters too (maybe a slayer from ancient greece / rome / egypt, or an anglo-saxon one or something). these are all experienced slayers, so no need to focus on training - it would be more about lore, history and their personal character journeys, assimilating them into society (creating some fun bottle episodes, maybe a day out on the town with dawn and a historical slayer) and trying to figure out why they were all brought back. also, if you want to keep the first as the main villain, then it can look like any one of them because they’re all technically dead, which means you can still have that episode with the dead potential revealing herself as the first and all the mistrust that’s threaded throughout the season.

plus with nikki back, there would be no need for the stupid sleeper agent thing with spike or the ridiculous fight between him and robin. all the same ideas (and the flashbacks to spike’s mum) could still be explored, and in a way better way imo.

I reckon the reason they were brought back would probably be the powers that be (tying nicely into angel ofc) trying to defeat the first. and of course the ending would be this huge battle, as all the slayers from around the world come to sunnydale, and maybe to add some drama they would all disappear and die again when the battle’s done as they have fulfilled their purpose (a classic finale knife to the heart that would have everyone sobbing, especially over nikki and kendra).

there’s also the added thing of like,, I appreciate the show was leaning towards a theme of “hope for the future” with the potentials angle, but literally every other aspect of the season is about harkening back to the past. faith, robin, the first taking the form of previous characters, the high school, the slayer origins, etc etc. so I just think this idea would work so much better with the themes of the season, and tie in really nicely.

and the most obvious perk of this concept is kendra! she was forgotten about so quickly, and this season would really give the writers a chance to redeem themselves for the terrible way poc characters have been treated throughout the show (ignoring what they did to robin. FUCK that but that’s another conversation). I think the show really downplayed how much kendra’s death would have affected buffy, and seeing the two of them interact after buffy has changed so much and kendra’s still the same would be amazing. there’s also the interesting concept that, having been brought back from the dead, kendra still be 17, and therefore closer in age to dawn than to buffy, which could make for some really nice interactions between the two of them. also of course the biggest most exciting thing is having buffy, faith and kendra all interact. they all represent places on a spectrum in terms of personality, and I would LOVE to see kendra and faith interact and how much of a unit they would likely become as a trio.

there’s also the theme of buffy feeling (and being) alone in this season that would hopefully go away, as she would now have dozens of people who truly understand her, giving her a proper support system which I would love to see (season 7 scoobies can actually eat shit btw <3)

so. was this born out of my hatred for insufferable kennedy and the annoying potentials? yes absolutely. do I now want them to rewrite and re-film the entire last season 20 years later? yes absolutely I’m so glad you understand

side note wouldn’t it be sick if in the final battle there’s just this one slo-mo shot where buffy stakes a vamp and through the dust she sees the first slayer looking at her from across the battlefield before she disappears amongst the fight. WHAT it would literally be awesome hello?!

also also other side note sorry but Mother(TM) nikki wood would NEVER kick buffy out of her own house. fuck them kids fr

[lettersfromaphrodite]

| tornerai da me |

― pairing : Mikey x fem! reader ― content warnings : smut, fluff, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) ― word count : 2.366 ― notes : different day, different blog, but this fic is still dedicated to my lovely muse @stressedfranya ― notes : the fic title means “you’ll come back to me”, it’s inspired by “la paura del buio” by  Måneskin 

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

Mikey fervently captured your lips with an open mouthed kiss, nothing but a desperate – yet very cute, attempt to hide his whimpers; his breath was ragged and uneven, his cheeks were flushed red, and his inexperienced fingers were almost hesitantly resting against your hips.

«You can touch me, pretty boy.» you confidently smiled at him, as you grinded your hips against his, creating enough friction to stimulate the both of you but not enough to get you off yet.

Nervously licking his lips, Mikey nodded at your words, and as you leaned back, balancing yourself on his firm thighs to move from a new angle, your boyfriend’s fingers started to explore your body, as he tried not to completely get lost in pleasure.

It was indeed a cute sight; you could feel Mikey’s thighs tense against yours anytime you purposely clenched against his length, and he would hide his face in the crook of your neck every now and then, hungrily nibbling at the skin of your neck between panted moans.

Shaky fingers wrapped themselves around your wrists, and you glanced at Mikey for any sign of discomfort; as if he was reading your mind, he quickly shook his head, mumbling a quiet «come here», his usual upbeat tone now huskier and filled with need. He placed your hands on his shoulders, and you scoffed, trying to hide a smile because, of course, you knew what he was trying to do and of course, you complied to his silent request.

Threading your fingers between Mikey’s golden hair you gave it a harsh tug, making your boyfriend moan almost sinfully in return, his hips stuttering against yours as he came with your name on his lips as if it was a prayer.

«Holy fucking hell,» you whined to yourself, vigorously shaking your head as if the gesture alone would have made those intruding thoughts slip away from your mind through your ears, as if you just took a dive in a pool and you were not still at work.

«Why am I even remembering that, now?» you mumbled to yourself, somehow exasperated with your own thoughts process, as you grabbed both your jacket and your bag, walking towards the front door of the shop you worked in just to check if the door was actually closed.

Quick flashbacks of a boy with golden hair kept alternating in your memory, and you sighed to yourself in deject.

“It’s almost Halloween,” you thought, distressed fingertips weakly fixing your glasses; on Halloween night, six years ago, you and Mikey ended once and for all your relationship.

Mikey had undoubtedly been the love of your life, that was the only thing you were certain about; moreover, sadly enough, even if you willingly had other relationships and met new people, you constantly faced the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to love anyone else.

However, you had to face the fact that – despite the love they shared, not every couple was meant to be together and so, life made sure for you and Mikey to never see each other again for years.

Six years, three months and still counting, to be exact.

Of course, you couldn’t know that yet, but fate indeed had its own way to ask for forgiveness.

As you finished placing your groceries in the trunk of your car, a familiar voice calling your name made you almost slam your head against its roof due to sudden surprise; with an unceremonious movement, you immediately leaned back and, as cliché as it sounded, you could swear that time started to flow in slow motion.

As unexpected as finding your favourite ice-cream on sale, Mikey was standing few feet from you; the long golden hair you were so enamoured with were now slightly longer and as black as a starless night sky and still, he looked handsome.

«Hi?» you weakly offered with a smile, nervously playing with the keys in your hands; your heart – that traitor, immediately started hammering in your chest, as if to remind you that yes, after all this time, Mikey still had the power to give your butterflies with nothing but a gentle smile.

«Hi.» he echoed as he took few steps closer to you; however, the tender smile adorning his lips fell as soon as he saw you take an almost imperceptible step back. Mikey misinterpreted your action, and thinking something along the lines of “what was I even expecting?”, he stopped walking.

Mikey’s nervous stance mirrored yours, and he placed his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side; the fact that you kept avoiding his gaze deeply saddened him, especially because – judging by your behaviour, he felt like a fool for hanging onto his feelings for so many years.

Six years and five months, just to be clear.

«How…» you nervously cleared your throat, finally mustering enough courage to meet your ex lover’s gentle gaze, «how have you been?»

«Good,» he Mikey seemed to relax a little bit at your attempt to keep the conversation going, and he nodded at your question, «I’ve- I just got back in town, you know. How- How are you doing?»

“He just got back?” you thought, finally finding an answer to the fact that, despite occasionally and of course, by chance, walking through the places he used to go more frequently, you never saw him once.

«I’m okay!» you quickly nodded at his question. The conversation that the two of you were having was both incredibly awkward and painful to see, but still, no one knows how you managed to entertain a vain and small talk for few minutes. Most importantly, in your heart, it was as if neither you nor Mikey wanted for that unexpected meeting to end.

«We should see each other sometimes,» Mikey casually offered, and you did your best to hide your surprised expression, «you know, to catch up.»

«Of course.» you immediately answered, making the boy smile. That’s how you and Mikey exchanged your phone numbers with the promise to have dinner together.

“What am I doing?” you thought as soon as you got back in your car, “I’m pushing thirties and I’m still blushing like a high-schooler.”

“What am I doing?” Mikey thought as soon as he started the engine of his bike, “I’m a gang leader, and I acted as flustered as the first time I asked her out.”

In the end, you ended up at Mikey’s place to eat take out food. At some point of the night, you had to admit to yourself that you had no reason to feel nervous in the first place; of course, you tensed up as soon as Mikey admitted to be a gang leader but still, judging from the expensive apartment with an amazing view over the city, you didn’t expect any less.

Mikey and you spent your time together talking and joking around, and you felt like after all, no time had passed from those days – years ago, where Mikey used to crash at your apartment just to spend time with each other.

Of course, one thing led to another and, somewhere in between casual touches and lingering gazes, you found yourself admiring the view from Mikey’s apartment while your forehead was pressed against the glass window, your breath occasionally fogging a little part of its cold surface.

The fact that you were glancing outside was a blatant lie because, how could you focus on anything else when Mikey was moving his hips against yours creating an oh, so delicious friction?

Mikey mindlessly traced a path of open-mouthed kisses on your nape, as he was slowly moving his hips against yours; your left cheek and your chest were now pressed against the window’s cold glass, and your back was arched as much as you managed to in the desperate attempt to feel more. Although the position wasn’t entirely comfortable for you, Mikey made up for it with bold touches here and there; his fingertips would ghost under your blouse, tracing their way from your throat to your clit.

Mikey’s moves were passionate, bold and almost calculated, and much to your dismay, there was no trace of the extremely shy and clumsy Mikey that asked you to ruin him while being sprawled on your bed.

This Mikey was restlessly fucking you against a window while mumbling against your skin how much he missed you. Hiding a pleased smile in the crook of your neck after hearing your needy whimpers, Mikey’s right hand pressed against the hand you were pressing against the window, just to somehow intertwine your fingers together.

Honestly, you were certain that there was molten core pooling in your lower abdomen, however, before you could beam yourself in the sensation of your orgasm, Mikey gradually slowed the pace of his hips until he eventually stopped moving.

«So big, Mikey,» you breathed, moving your hips backward in order to look for more friction, as his left hand stopped stimulating your clit, «you’re so big.»

«Am I?» he questioned with a smug tone, as the fingertips of his left hand were mindlessly caressing your hipbone. It didn’t take long for you to realize what he was trying to do, since it was something you had loved to do with him many years ago; between touches and kisses, Mikey kept teasing you, his only goal for you to beg him to let you come. Of course, you would be lying if you were to say that back then, you didn’t beam yourself in the sight of Mikey’s watering eyes and blushy cheeks as he begged you to let him come after you’ve teased him for hours; however, you’d never expected for your actions to backfire like this.

Doing your best to ignore Mikey’s length occasionally twitching inside you anytime you clenched around him, you reached back with your left hand, but before you could intertwine your fingertips in his raven black hair, you found both your hands being pressed against the window.

«Here I thought I was being good enough for you.» he mumbled against your neck, as he left another trail of open mouthed kisses. The grip around your hands tightened, and you decided that for once, you didn’t have to be the one in control; after all, judging by how quickly you were about to reach your first orgasm, you had to admit to yourself that this new side of Mikey was definitely alluring.

«Let me cum, Mikey, please.» although your voice was barely a whisper, your ex lover decided that still, it was okay to him; during the years, he had desired to be with you for so many nights that now that he finally had the chance, he didn’t want to waste time with unnecessary role-play.

Mikey slid out of you, gently taking your hand to lead you towards the nearest couch in his expensive and wide living room; you both quickly finished undressing yourselves – you discarded your blouse and your bra while Mikey simply took off his shirt, before he let you climb on top of him and quickly slid back inside of you while trying to hide a needy hiss, his head leaning back against the couch.

Like good old times, you were now riding Mikey, alternating sensual moves of your hips to occasional grinding against each other; however, he quickly noticed the fact that you still seemed to be hesitant about something, since your hands were locked on his shoulders for the time being.

«You can touch me, pretty girl.» he offered with a smug smile, snaking his arms around your waist and pushing your chest closer to his; you scoffed a laugh, recognizing his words as the ones you used to pronounce.

Eventually, your lips met Mikey’s for the first time that night, and the familiar sensation of euphoria pooled in your lower abdomen. It was kind of paradoxical, your hips were moving against each other in an incredible slow pace, and still, you could feelMikey tremble below you.

«I missed you,» you heard him say anytime your lips parted for few seconds, just to angle your kiss a different way, «I missed you so much.» he confessed, as the atmosphere in the room gradually grew so intimate that it almost prevented you from breathing properly. Mikey kept you close to his body, sinking his short nails in your thighs, refusing to stop kissing you despite his ragged and uneven breath; you did just the same, threading your fingers in his hair and shyly confessing that you missed him too.

Mikey bit your lips as he came, riding his high as he hid his head in the crook of your neck, and you came right after him, loving the way he kept kissing your skin and brush his fingertips over your clit to help you ride your orgasm.

Mikey’s arms seemed to tighten around your waist, preventing your from standing up from the couch; he still had his forehead against your collarbones, and you knew that he could feel the wild rhythm of your heart, not anymore caused from your post orgasm state. Instinctively, you hugged his neck, the reality of the fact that you were probably still sharing the same feelings slowly crashing onto you.

«I really missed you.» you heard Mikey state, even though he wasn’t looking at you.

«I know. I missed you, too.» you offered back, slightly moving your head just to kiss his hair.

«Don’t leave,» Mikey timidly added after few never-ending seconds of silence, his arms seemed to tighten around your waist to empathize his words, «let’s make things right, this time.»

«Mikey, just to be clear, you’re asking me to be your girlfriend, again?» you swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart now threatening to jump off your chest due to its wild rhythm.

«I am,» Mikey’s head leaned back, his gentle gaze finally meeting yours as his fingertips gently cradled your face, «I want to be yours, as long as you want to be mine.» In a silent answer, you leaned in and captured your lover’s in another kiss filled with adoration.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[incandescentflower]

Things I am still curious about/clamoring for as we keep going with Wandee Goodday in no particular order:

(some things we know will happen, others are mere speculation or what I personally want to see)

-Finding out what happened to Dee's parents. And does it have to do with his flashback he had on the crosswalk? If not, what is that about?

-Finding out what exactly happened to Yak's mother. Is there hinting that Dee's family had an accident related to Yak's mom's death - maybe, maybe not -there were emergency sirens but that could be from heart attack or other acute emergencies - there was no sign of external injuries during that scene, but anyone who watches dramas knows that these kind of coincidences are common to set up conflict

-Getting to know the deal with Yak's father (and step-mother, who is in MDL credits)?

-Finding out who Luke is playing?? I can't even fathom at this point.

-MEETING KAO'S LOVE INTEREST (I will not ask if there will be one and will flip tables if he doesn't get one.) I will die laughing if it is Luke because that seems so weird to me, but shows have surprised me before. Still rooting for you, rando handsome bodyguard.

-More grandma time. We are getting to see her next episode and she needs to hang around more. I want her to become Yak's cool grandma too, no question.

-Taem helping Yak face his feelings. I think Yak already knows pretty well, but I think he thinks Dee doesn't return them so he's better off trying with Taem, which if true, is a little funny because Taem is the one who has clearly given Yak an answer. But that means his whole scheme is pretty safe, actually. He says he doesn't want to risk losing her but he already knows he won't. Dee on the other hand...

-I would specifically love to see Yak confess to Taem and come to fully understand in the process how he doesn't feel for Taem anymore the way he feels for Dee.

-I can't wait for the Thai travel ad episode where Cher and Yei get to go on a couple date with Yak and Dee. Just more Cher and Yei in general, kthanks, show

-I am seated for the moment when Yak realizes that Ter is going after Dee and gets pissed. Yak is one who is so calm that him getting truly angry is something to look forward to with interest. This Yak seems very different from pilot trailer Yak in that regard and I want to see if that holds up. I'd like a little Yak jealousy, but mostly I want to see Yak standing up for Dee because based on how he is characterized I think his biggest problem is going to be that Ter still seems to be jerking Dee around and Yak won't have it.

-I want to know if Dr. Kwan realizes that Ter is a lost cause and steps away? I keep trying to understand what purpose she serves besides being one of only a few significant female characters. She made Ter's claim he liked women seem more plausible for a few episodes, but I hope she gets to have more agency.

-I want to see Dee going to cheer for Yak at the ringside so badly. Bonus, Dee braiding Yak's hair (or unbraiding) or some wound care. There may have been some foreshadowing of Yak getting more seriously injured like a concussion - they talked about the risks of him going up a weight class and I was like hrm.

-I will be so happy to see Dee going to Yak's graduation. The pilot trailer hammers on Yak not wanting to be a boxer. There's signs that is still a thread in the drama. I think we'll find out more what Yak really wants for his future. I'd love to get more of that in detail and not a broad brush.

We have far to go, but putting this all out there makes me hope that they will do these plot points some justice instead of taking some random turns that are out of character. I'm so interested to see how all these stories unfold.

I will continue to be mulling this so any other speculations, hopes or observations are more than welcome. :)

[penultimate-step]

In Defense of Ruby Hoshino

Or: Yes, the Aqua/Ruby interactions from the last couple dozen chapters ARE necessary for characterization and thematic reasons, why do you ask?

The Oshi no Ko fandom has kind of frustrated me over the last few months. It feels like every chapter that comes out and any discussion of it now has people making over the top angry exclamations talking about how much they hate incest, calling it "bait" and irrelevant to the story. Now, while of course anybody is free to have their own preferences and things that bother them, I do think some of this is taken out of proportion, and perhaps blinding them to the actual narrative importance of Ruby's supposed feelings for Aqua. Which, I do think this is a critical, load bearing part of Ruby's character arc, and corresponding the themes of the story as a whole, so it bothers me when I see so many people dismissing it as "brocon fanservice" or shipping nonsense.

I think perhaps out of an instinctive disgust reaction, people have trouble engaging with it. The way people act seems to be that either this is a serious romance plot, and the series will end with them dating, or that it is merely for sexual titillation and shock value on the part of the author, with no greater meaning, but it's pretty clear that it is neither of those things - Aqua/Ruby is not a romance, they will not date, they do not have romantic feelings for each other. However, that doesn't mean that what's going on between them is pointless.

The issues that Ruby has, both in their relationship and just in general, hinge pretty explicitly on Ruby's assumptions about her own feelings in her past life. she cannot develop past those without first confronting them.

And this is not a new thing. The groundwork for how Ruby has been acting in the movie arc was laid down long before, and needs necessary followup. To simply not have her talk about potential feelings for Aqua, as some fans wish, would have meant leaving many threads hanging, and made for a worse story. Almost everything about how they've interacted was something that could have been predicted from chapter 77. In it, Ruby makes it clear that she believes her feelings for Gorou are romantic, and that she intends to try to initiate something in her new life. However, at the same time, the fact that it was never going to happen is also, I feel, fairly clear.

In the past, in the flashback scene, Sarina claimed she was in love with Gorou. He told her he would reciprocate when she turned 16. In my opinion, I do not think either of the feelings the characters expressed in this scene were meant to be believed by the audience at all. Sarina is 12 here, she might have a puppy crush on the doctor but I think true romantic interest was probably beyond her. Meanwhile, Gorou isn't actually a pedophile? His statement was made with both parties knowing that she would die long before then, a way to make his rejection hurt her less, and as a desperate attempt to motivate her to keep living as long as she could. Though it is clear that both are the most important people to one another, and that this is an expression of their real care, I very, very, much doubt there was any actual romance in this scene.

Does this not seem very relevant for a series with the theme of people not understanding love? Back then, Gorou was Sarina's one true bond. Her parents had abandoned her and she had no friends to visit her. This was the one example of real mutual care she had, of course she would call it "love." (I mean, I'd also call it love, but not a romantic love. Familial, if anything, but friends works too - the actual name on it is unclear, what matters is that they cared for each other, but not like that.) Now, in her new life as Ruby, she has many more people who love her and who she loves in return, but having died both painfully young before, she hasn't had the opportunity to really grapple with all the old feelings about the doctor. It's pretty obvious to me whenever we see Ruby thinking of Aqua now. Just look at this page from 126:

In Ruby's own mind, he's drawn in a completely different style, like a manga romance hero. Her feelings about Aqua are fantasies, dreams, and projections, not substantial or tied to reality.

Much has been made of how Aqua, despite being Ai's son, still puts her on the pedestal of an idol, and can not see her flaws and interiority, even as he tries to avenge her death. Part of this movie arc is having characters like Ruby, Kana, and Akane start to see Ai from new angles, and relate to the human part of her. But for Aqua and Ruby to truly develop past their issues, this isn't the only pedestal they need to tackle. Ruby's regard for the doctor is a direct mirror to Aqua's feelings towards Ai. Even with the object of her affections right in front of her, she can't she past her own assumptions.

And of course, while Ruby is slowly coming to understand Ai and still failing to understand Aqua, there's one more person in the room who Ruby needs to come to an understanding about: herself, both as Sarina and now. Her refusal to see Aqua's flaws is tied up in her own feelings about the past - to acknowledge him as imperfect would mean understanding that part of the reason Sarina loved Gorou was tied up in her own desperation to love and be loved. Furthermore, while she has many more ties in her life as Ruby, I don't think its a stretch to say part of her is still stuck in that past state, holding people at arm's length.

While she has friends now, the bonds she thinks of as strongest are the ones from back then - her idolization of Ai, her love for Gorou. When Aqua reveal's Ai's secrets, in 106, Ruby says that despite being siblings, raised together for 17 years now, she didn't think of Aqua as family on his own terms - she felt a bond solely because they were linked through Ai, and does not hesitate to cut him off. She doubles down on this in 122, calling them "strangers who happened to be born in the same place." Similarly, while Ruby has been shown to be friendly with coworkers like Kana and Mem, as well as classmates like Frill, on some level she is keeping them at a distance. Beyond the simple fact that she can't talk to them about her previous life, she's been keeping plenty of emotions held in for a long time - pretty much every Ruby appearance from the Miyazaki Return arc to today has shown her not wanting to acknowledge her own struggles. Her pain from her life as Sarina is easy to keep buried. When nobody else knows Sarina exists, all she has to do is not think about it, not talk about it, not say anything, and it's almost like it never happened. Not til her breakdowns in chapters like 115 and 121 does she speak it aloud, but always either with plausible deniability or when she thinks she's alone.

I don't think her bonds as Ruby are fake - part of what she says to aqua, I think, is a defensive cope - but much like how she says she is in love with Gorou now, that is what Ruby believes. To her, all the friendships and bonds she's made in her new life are transient and fleeting things. She can never feel secure that they are based in real feelings, that they won't simply drop her when she becomes inconvenient, as everyone in her past life did. This perception contributes to her own willingness to reject others. Putting her friends at a distance during her revenge arc, cutting ties with Aqua over the Ai reveal, these are all things she does because she has no faith in the foundations of these bonds, and without understanding them she is willing to throw them away for Sarina's old memories - for the sake of the one person she believes will never let her down.

The only way Ruby is going to solve the story of Oshi no Ko is through coming to an understanding. Of Ai, of Aqua, and of Sarina. Ai didn't understand love until the day she died, and both of her children have in some ways followed in her footsteps, but Ruby has the chance to be the one to break this, to understand what was holding her back before and fully embrace loving her family and friends.(platonically. geez.) Reckoning with her feelings for Gorou (and by extension, Aqua,) was always going to be a key step forward for her. These dominoes have been laid down for 60-70 chapters now, at least, and I am excited to see where it goes.

[arinbelle]

Inevitable - Part II

Summary: Nesta and Cassian mated on the night of Winter Solstice. But before they could mate properly, Cassian left soon after, leaving Nesta reeling and Cassian wanting more. When they mate under an official ceremony, with ancient magic, that mating call is renewed, and Nesta and Cassian are going to be in a frenzy. I.e. I wrote 20k fic full of smut.

Part I  | Part II  | Part III  | Part IV

~*~

Nesta awoke alone and cold, something she had already become unaccustomed to since she’d begun sharing a bed with Cassian. His body heat alone made nights and mornings warm and comfortable enough that sometimes she didn’t even need a blanket. And his presence alone was enough to ward off that stifling loneliness she’d grown up with inside of her. 

Yet here she was, enveloped in a light, fluffy blanket that smelled like Cassian, with the real Cassian nowhere to be found. That and a tray heaping with food on the desk beside her. A small card lay beside the cut up fruit and buttered toast, and Nesta took it while grabbing a small piece of cake. 

Lady Death,

I’m in the room down the hall. Do not come find me before eating. I will know.

Love,

Cassian

Nesta rolled her eyes at the nickname but got to work on breakfast. Delicious as it was, she was left wanting for company. Cassian’s company, but she’d sent a tendril of warmth down the bond and felt nothing back. Perhaps he was still sleeping. 

Shame that considering that Nesta was beginning to feel the effects of the bond chafing on her. 

Oh she’d been warned in advance by Feyre, by Emerie, and even Amren. How the vows and the ceremony would likely renew the mating bond’s initial frenzy in full force, maybe even stronger. And considering the fact that Cassian had opted for distance immediately after Solstice night, and she’d been left to weakly deal with the bond’s after effects without him, it would indeed be very strong.

Rhys had told Feyre, who’d passed on the message with a red face and far too much humor. That they didn’t understand how it worked, or why it even happened, just that if they missed that window of opportunity immediately after a mating to…well, mate properly, it would renew again when the time was right. Especially after Nesta had willingly accepted the bond and the old magic had been invoked by the ancient priestesses at their ceremony. 

When Cassian had returned from Illyria, their joinings had been wild and passionate and far more frequent, so she could only wonder how they may become now. 

With her breakfast finished and a new invisible thrum going on underneath her skin, her thoughts quickly eddied from speculation to downright imagination. Vivid images and flashbacks to all their raw, heated couplings filled her mind and Nesta bit down on her lip to hold in a moan.

Gods but they hadn’t fucked in days either since the planning of their mating ceremony had already been chaotic and rushed. The days leading up to it had gone into fixing up last minute arrangements and finalizing any loose ends. 

She hadn’t meant to do it, but when she heard the sound of stirring from the room down the hall, Nesta couldn’t resist. She didn’t use the mating bond for this purpose, nor had they had it for very long, but it seemed appropriate given the situation. If anything, she only sometimes widened that thread between them to assure him that she was alright if she wasn’t home. 

She let her thoughts flow down the bond untethered, unbound by any sense or propriety. There was no answering reply nor any sound. In fact, she found that the entire house had gone silent, as if it breathed and moved in example of Cassian. And Cassian, it would seem, had gone still. 

It didn’t take long to wash her face and hands and run her fingers through her slightly sleep-mussed hair before going to look for Cassian.

She didn’t knock, didn’t even bother with speaking as she turned the doorknob and let herself in.

Nesta just barely held in her gasp as she surveyed the scene before her.

Cassian lay on his bed, head thrown back, his naked body on full display, wings spread out against the mattress as he fisted his cock.

Nesta must have made some noise, some indication of her presence because Cassian’s eyes flared open and his hand stilled as he met her eyes with his own lust-addled hazel ones.

Nesta forced herself to move. Forced herself to look away and close the door behind her, even though it was just them in the house. Something about it, about how she’d shut herself in with him, seemed to capture his interest. That and probably her slow walk towards the bed.

His hand had lowered to the base of his cock, and the tightness in his body had begun to dissolve, loosening the taut muscles.

“Starting without me?,” she murmured thoughtfully as she came to sit down at the foot of the bed. 

He grunted, lowering his slightly raised his head back against the pillow, while still holding her gaze in that snare he’d caught her in.

“Don’t stop on my account then,” she tried again. She didn’t touch him, didn’t dare spoil her fun. 

In all the times they’d fucked, she’d never seen him pleasure himself in front of her. Of course she knew he did it, especially if he was away or it was one of those nights they didn’t sleep together. But while she’d laid herself bare before him once, dipping her fingers into herself while he’d watched, she’d never been blessed with the same opportunity.

Cassian huffed a laugh finally, the tense look on his face dissipating as his hand circled around himself again, and he started anew. Working his way up the long member, only to twist harshly at the head, and quickly graze his thumb over the sensitive tip.

Gods but she wanted to taste him. Especially as a bead of moisture gathered at his head and he let it stay there, watching her knowingly as her eyes darted between his cock and his face.

Her breasts tightened, hell, everything tightened, and all she could hear was her own thudding heart and Cassian’s sharp intakes of breath with each pass of his hand. Cassian noticed that too. Her hardened nipples peaking through the thin nightgown. The press of her thighs tightly together as she sat on her knees, trying and failing to ignore the pooling wetness between her legs.

“Enjoying yourself?,” Cassian asked huskily, a wicked smile dancing on his face as he bucked into his hand again, moaning louder this time.

“Yes,” she answered without thought. Not a care in the world or any sense of shame between them. She would never tire of seeing his body, nor he her- especially not in the throes of pleasure. And they’d never been the type to shy away from that.

“Harder,” she pleaded with a whisper. He had been dragging this out, dragging his own pleasure out just to torture her. “Do it harder.”

Cassian didn’t. 

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?,” he grunted. Always in control, even in the process of losing it.

She could only nod her head expectantly, leaning closer, noting the muscles in his thigh begin to shift, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as his breath began to saw out of him.

“Harder,” she commanded this time. She fought to keep the plea out of her voice. “I want to see you come all over yourself, Cassian.”

He moaned. “You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you, you little witch. Why not just fuck me yourself?”

She smirked, meeting his narrowed eyes. “I will. Soon enough. Right now though, I want to watch you come.” And then, just to win whatever game they’d begun, she added,”And then I want to taste you.”

Cassian’s breaths stuttered at her words but he finally listened, twisting and working himself harder, groaning with each pass.

Harder and louder just like she’d asked for.

Beautiful. 

Nesta leaned forward, steadying one hand on his thigh, and the other on the side of his free hand. She couldn’t help herself as she slid her hand up his thigh, letting her nails scratch against his skin. It seemed to do the trick.

Cassian shouted her name as he came in thick, forceful waves, spurting all over his muscled stomach. 

Watching Cassian come apart was always one of her favorite things to witness. More often than not though, it was on her knees or with him pounding into her. This unfettered access to his entire body, tensing and collapsing into his orgasm was so much more. She’d never grown up inclined to a religion. But watching Cassian come so beautifully, with her name on his lips? It was the sort of prayer she could willingly fall into worship. 

He had gone slack, eyes shut as the last waves of his climax ebbed away. Nesta was still leaning over him, still pressing down a good amount of her weight on him, not that he seemed to care or notice. 

Another breath shuddered out of him and the release still painting his stomach glistened from the movement.

Nesta just…moved. 

Licking against his heated skin, feeling the shift of muscles underneath her tongue as she tasted the salty release. Cassian was watching her, she could feel it, but she ignored it as she finished cleaning off what he’d spilled onto his beautiful brown skin. The taste of his release in her mouth only renewed the fervor she’d entered the room with. She made sure to meet Cassian’s gaze as she swallowed, and watch the desire pool in the liquid hazel of his eyes.

She expected him to pounce on her. To pull her off of him and trap her under his strong arms, ravishing her till they were both exhausted. What she didn't see coming was the hand he raised to stroke her cheek gently. She couldn't help but melt into it, into that loving touch of his.  

“You’re going to be the death of me, Nesta Archeron,” he uttered softly. As if it were a wish. A prayer.

She huffed a laugh against his palm, stretching languorously over his naked body, relishing the feel of him underneath her. Her peace didn’t last long as Cassian lifted the leg she’d been straddling, and pressed his thigh against her core.

He stopped suddenly, looking at her curiously, only to smirk with what she could only assume was cruel humor. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Bold.”

Nesta bit her lip, refusing to give into his snark.

He chuckled as he moved slowly, pressing against her in the most delicious way possible. She couldn’t do anything except gasp as she felt his naked skin touch her unclothed core, grinding up against her clit and sex.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Nesta,” he breathed. 

Her hips moved of their own volition, grinding on his thigh as he met her each and every movement with his own. She didn’t care how debauched this had become. She cried out with every flex of Cassian’s hips as she chased her own pleasure against him. That need, that thrumming, beckoning need had risen so violently in her, she didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t come soon.

Her hands slipped and Cassian quickly caught them at the wrists, steadying her without stopping. She ground herself harder against him, practically tasting her soon to be climax.

“That’s it, Nesta,” Cassian encouraged. “Use me just like that. Come all over me sweetheart.”

“Cassian, Cassian, I-oh,” she gasped as a bow snapped inside of her and blinding pleasure burst out. She might have screamed, might have even blacked out. Cassian held her through it all, through the crest and the fall until all that was left was the two of them, faces so close they were sharing the air.

It was Nesta who moved first. She climbed off of him, trying and failing not to blush as she saw the wetness she’d left on his thigh.

Cassian followed her gaze and his eyes darkened with appreciation. Of course he’d love the sight of it, the mess she’d made on him. His face promised all things dark and sinful as he appraised her. 

“Take it off,” he commanded, pointing at her gown.

Nesta moved back. “You and your orders, Commander. Sometimes I think you forget who I am,” she said with the same lazy disregard he’d just given her.

Cassian pulled himself upright then.

“You’re my mate,” he snarled softly. Nesta’s heart thundered in her chest and if it were somehow possible, she felt herself get wetter. “I haven’t forgotten that. Maybe you’ve forgotten who makes you come, Nesta.”

Mother help her, this male. 

His hand darted out quickly, moving between her legs, and testing the slide with her wetness. Nesta bit back a moan.

“You want to come again, mate?,” he taunted with a snap of his teeth. 

She did. So much so that she had to force herself to not press her thighs closer together if only to ignore the building sensation between them. Cassian paid her no mind. A lazy smile was all he gave her as he slid two fingers inside of her.

Nesta whimpered, catching his wrist as he leaned forward to kiss at her neck.

“Take it off then,” he whispered against her heated skin, right before licking up from her pulse point to her jaw. “Take it off and I’m going to make you come on my hands, my face, and my cock until you can’t come anymore.” She shuddered, letting go of his hand, letting him do as he pleased between her legs, while she pulled down the straps of the gown, exposing her breasts.

Cassian was on them immediately, sucking and kissing, biting and pulling with so much zeal, she wondered if that’s all he’d been working towards this entire time.

It was also Cassian who rucked up the nightgown at her hips impatiently, reminding her of his earlier request. She pulled the nightgown up over her head, balling it up and throwing it to some corner of the room. 

Cassian murmured appreciatively at her new nakedness, skimming his hands over her breasts, her stomach, until finally hauling her under him.

Nesta pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely in a way that made her blood sing. She had wanted to do that from the moment she’d woken up, before she’d come to his bed and he’d made her come. Had been dying for a taste of his lips, dying to feel them move against her own as his hard body pressed tighter onto her.

Cassian only broke away to kiss a path down her neck, her breasts, and lower still. When she figured out his intent, just as he’d begun to spread her thighs, Nesta pulled him back.

“No,” she spoke impatiently. “I need you. Just you.” There would be time for all of that later. To touch more, to feast leisurely. For now, she just needed him inside her.

He understood just as he always did, and Cassian was on her immediately, adjusting his already hard cock at her entrance before spearing forward. She almost screamed at the intrusion, at the burning pleasure he had awoken in her.

“So long,” Cassian murmured against her lips. Yes, it had been too long for them since their last joining.

Nesta could only greedily kiss back as he began to move. What began as slow, soft strokes quickly fell into quick, rough thrusts that had Nesta aching for more.

The noises she was making were almost mortifying but Cassian didn’t seem to mind. He swallowed one of her breathy, high-pitched whines with a kiss, darting his tongue around her own as he fucked her harder, deeper. 

Nesta’s nails sliced into Cassian’s back as she began to feel her orgasm build, the scent of their sex and his blood filling the heady air in the room. She felt around for a moment, blindly grasping for something to hold onto or she feared she’d unravel completely. Her hands briefly fell onto his wing just as she began to fall, and Nesta held onto his shoulders as her back arched of its own accord. 

Cassian came undone at her touch, crying out with her as he came too.

Time didn’t exist. The world didn’t exist. It was just them. 

Just Cassian and Nesta. She could stay like that forever. Would have willingly had she not felt a sudden surge in her heart of hearts.

Cassian’s head, which had been pressed into her neck, rose with alarm. 

She felt it again, that beautiful golden thread that had connected them always, only strengthened by Solstice night. And it tugged.

“Did you feel-,” she started, cutting herself off.

“I did,” he answered jaggedly. 

“I can feel you,” she admitted. “More than…before.”

Cassian hummed, dropping a soft kiss to where her heart beat. “It’s the bond. It’s strengthening.” Something darkened in his gaze. Sharpened.

“I should warn you-,” he started, but Nesta cut him off.

“I know. It’s alright.”

Cassian didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t want to hurt you, Nesta. If it gets to be too much you let me know. Males tend to lose themselves a little in the frenzy.”

Nesta only kissed the underside of his jaw. “I trust you. Always.”

Cassian’s answering grin shouldn’t have made her laugh as much as it did. But it was the hardened, thick weight she felt fall between her thighs that stole her breath away. 

“Already?,” she teased, slipping a hand down to stroke him gently.

Cassian cursed, thrusting into her hands, looking down between them to the open cradle of her thighs. He beheld her hand around his cock for a few more passes before moving it away. Instead, Nesta was tossed around onto her stomach while Cassian pulled her hips up.

He sheathed himself in one breath, effectively stealing hers in the process and Nesta could only moan incoherently as he began a new onslaught on her.

Surely, there had to be an end to the pleasure. To the burning desire. But even after making her come twice, there didn’t seem to be enough, for either of them. Nesta couldn't describe this clawing, hissing thing that had arisen in her. It begged to be fucked, to be touched and filled until sated exhaustion, which didn’t seem to be coming anytime soon. Never had she felt such a burning need for Cassian, nor he her she imagined. The bond was a thing of wonder, as was the frenzy, and Nesta gripped the sheets tighter as another climax ripped through her.

She couldn't scream anymore. Couldn’t make much sound at all as Cassian continued to fuck her from behind. She lifted her head slightly wanting to see just how undone he was. If he was anywhere near oblivion like she was. 

Sure enough as she peered behind, Cassian’s face was enraptured. He met her gaze knowingly, pausing only for a moment to press a kiss to the back of her neck, her shoulders, before starting again. He slipped a hand down her back, before dropping it between her legs, teasing the apex of her thighs and that bundle of nerves so very slowly.

Nesta could only whimper, muffling her cry into the pillow as Cassian leaned forward, pushing himself deeper. She managed to raise a hand behind herself, spearing it into Cassian’s hair as he kissed a heated path down her neck.

“I know, Nes,” he whispered in her ear. “I know.”

She came with a silent scream and the world exploding in black and white. 

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[loveinamystery]

I'm sick so you know what that means?

Another episode of...

✨️ Yohna moments I often think about ✨️

Moving another thread across to here and it is a Yohna one you lucky sausages. It is a long post, I'll apologise now.

Let's talk about this scene from the 2001 anime

Spoiler for main series and some elements of Flowers

This was a non manga scene added to the 2001 series. I honestly believe that this scene was added in replacement of the moment Anna asked to stay with Yoh the night before he lives for America.

I believe that the 2001 production team wanted to give Yoh and Anna a scene alone before he left for America. Something to show them acting like a couple. To show that actually they do care for each other. But it had to be done in the most Yoh and Anna way.

Now, Yoh and Anna are a very private couple. Everything happens behind closed doors. Yoh and Anna are not about big declarations of love or PDA. Be it Takei's choice to portray them like this, or his refusal to write full on romance we will not speak on it . So this scene had to be very 'them'.

I mean, I pray for the day we finally get some flashbacks of baby Hana in Middle East. I will not shut up about it. I just want to see them FIGHT TOGETHER. Or just working together as a team because I NEED IT. Just let them be a cute married couple please.

GIVE ME THE YOHNA SPIN OFF TAKEI! I KNOW ANNA IS ONE OF YOUR FAVS. STOP DENYING YOURSELF. BRING HER BACK.

*ahem*

Anyway, back to the scene.

The lead up to this scene is pretty interesting. During school, Manta picks up that Anna has been acting weird.

It amazed me that Yoh did not notice her acting a little off. But, to be fair to Yoh, he has been training very hard and is super tired. The gang had recently been to China to rescue Ren, so our boy must be pretty exhausted, and more than likely falling a sleep in classes.

But omg, he is so clueless. Please help this man.

I mean, either Yoh is so distracted with other stuff, or he doesn't think Anna would be affected by his departure. They lived so long apart back in Izumo so why would this be any different?

I believe that having now lived with each other, their relationship had changed and they are now closer. They act more like a couple. I'm pretty sure by now they have had their first kiss and spoke about their feelings for each other.

Please also offer some thoughts on clueless Yoh 🙏

That is until....

Manta outright tells the gang that he is sad that they will all be leaving.

Yoh, Horohoro and Ryu have been acting like it is nothing, and just a part of their lives. Ryu does tell Manta that they do feel sad but they are dealing with it in their own way.

I think this is where the realisation clicks in Yoh's head that actually, Anna could be feeling the same. That she is sad too, but showing it in her own way. Maybe she did want to spend time together that evening? But I don't think Anna would ever meaningfully get in the way of Yoh seeing his friends. She knows how important they are to Yoh.

Wanna take a walk with me?

Yoh might have been sitting on this idea since the meal out with the guys, and he waited till the last moment to ask Anna to go for a walk.

I think this shows how nervous Yoh is about exploring his feelings with Anna, because who goes out for a walk just before they go to bed? When they are already in their nightwear?

I think that, in the 2001 anime, the emotions are there, but they are teenagers figuring out their feelings for each other and how to express themselves. I'm a romantic, sorry

BUT LOOK AT THE BABIES!!!

Yoh is always a reassurance for Anna. She pushes him to become the best person he can become, and Yoh is always there to reassure and support Anna. They just work together so well. They are a team.

On their late night walk, they talk about normal stuff such as the Patch Village, the SK fight, Anna of course tells Yoh that he better not lose.

But I think there is more to be said about what they don't say, or hidden meanings.

This moment here

I tell you, I can hear the brain clogs ticking in that little Asakura head.

After seeing Anna is cold, Yoh presents her with a warm drink.

We know Anna is always ordering Yoh around, but she never asked him go and get her a drink. Is it one of the first times in the show we see Yoh just do something for Anna without her asking or ordering him to do so.

YOHNA BIG BRAIN THEORY MOMENT 🧠

I struggle to word this but I will try. I feel like Anna is trying to keep her true feelings unwraps (as usual), but this time she is doing it to Yoh.

Anna is cold and is seen as trying to keep herself warm. She doesn't ask for help. She doesn't tell Yoh that she is cold. It is her issue and she will deal with it on her own.

Now let's apply that to her emotions.

Anna has grown close to Yoh and is now sad that he is going to America. There is a chance that she might not see him again, but she just carries on as usual. She doesn't tell Yoh she is sad or express it. She knows Yoh has to focus, and it is his duty to progress in the Shaman Fights.

Yoh and Anna are often said to have an 'unspoken communication', and this was one of those turning points as a couple.

I feel like they became stronger after this. And look, I know the scene could be classed as non-cannon as it didn't happen in the manga but its here and I'm going to talk about it!

ITS WARM!

Like his love for her! 😭😭😭

I read too much romance guys. I'm too loved up. I'm sorry I'm like this.

BUT LOOK AT HIS FACE!!!

Tell me this boy isn't in love!

Tell me he isn't thinking how actually, he is pretty lucky to have someone like Anna.

And really, no matter what they are about to face, everything will work out.

I don't know man. I love the addition of this scene in the 2001 version. Likely one of my favourites, along with a selection of others.

I'll go back into my hiding hole now. That was longer than I thought it would be, and it you made it to the end, well done 😌

[ikemenomegas]

Hey!! (animeomegas here <3) I don't know anything about jjk, but I love actor AUs and I was wondering if you have any fun ideas for Naruto, the arcana or Mystic messenger? For some reason I've been imagining how a Mystic Messenger TV show would work and sketching out poster ideas for it 😫 This isn't really intended as a request, I just want to hear your stream of thought haha. Hope you've been having a wonderful day! <33

Hi @animeomegas I actually had a really long day but it was nice! I got a lot of things done. I hope you also had a good day ^^. So, okay okay okay you know I love casual stream of thought... and talking ahaha, and I also love behind the camera drama (I am also avoiding any wip work because 9+ hours at work fried the thesaurus bit of my brain)

Naruto

Naruto is such a specifically anime show. The budget for a complete 1:1 live action remake would probably make people so mad, there would have to be so much CGI for the final battle.

I feel like it could work for actors au as either:

1. Make Naruto a movie series. It's probably got a cult following like Star Wars and started off as some kind of original idea in the 70s and then got acquisitioned by a huge conglomerate in the 90s-2000s era, and had enough films (like the fast and furious franchises XD, so... eight at least) that it was able to cover all the material up until our time lol.

I actually went and reviewed the arcs because I love procrastination through research oop, but if you cut out/combine the filler arcs/turn them into serialized shows for streaming, you're left with enough material for about 3 movies from genin-days (when the actors Sasuke, Naruto, and Sakura age from 11-14) and 5 movies from the shippuden era (there the main trio actors age from 16-24)

Playing off that nostalgia factor, Jiraiya's actor either played Minato or Naruto in the 70s film. He's since become a very famous actor/producer/director. Kakashi's father also played Kakashi's character in the original 70s film, so having him return as Sakumo for the Pein arc was a little Easter egg. There's a couple of instances of this throughout the series. For example, Madara is actually played by the same actor who played Sasuke in the og series, and the makeup used to age him in the flashback arcs gets high praise. Hashirama is played by the same kid who played Rock Lee in the first films too. Tsunade was played by the same girl who was either Ino in the original, etc.

Kind of like marvel, there's a ton of actors who are only sort of or not very famous when the films start, and the kids are certainly no-name actors (kind of [Sakura reads to me like a former disney-channel kid lol]), and then as the films get wildly popular, the franchise gains the Midas touch and even all of the recurrent minor characters get arcs/spinoffs/or see further success in their careers.

And as with marvel, it truly becomes like... everyone famous in a certain generation was in the Naruto franchise.

Sasuke had some actual industry connections prior to casting, but that was only because his brother was a young up-and-coming model. They sort of spring-boarded one anothers' careers. Playing the franchise characters traumatized them oop, and irl they're very close. There's a noticeable uptick in viewership for compilation videos of the Uchiha brothers being best siblings after about movie 6 when Sasuke finally kills Itachi and movie 7's fight with Kabuto is one of the most watched clips ever.

Also marvel-esque, I think people have mixed opinions about the ending lol (just like they do the anime) because on one hand, explosions! amazing visual effects! the whole ensemble ready to assemble! stacked nostalgia value! answers to some of the most asked fandom questions! amazing physical feats (Naruto and by extension Sasuke mostly insist on doing their own stunts)! and on the other... you have some of the thousand story threads being lost in the sauce, lackluster characterization for a some of the ladies, leaning perhaps too much on nostalgia value, complete obliteration of power scaling, suddenly there's almost too much content, and you have to have watched all three spinoff series to understand some of the in-world references, also fighting between the original concept creator and head writer and the production teams :p (yes this is Io being too literal haha)

2nd option: The Naruto characters all belong to the same representative entertainment company (think SM or YG /pulls face because cabal culture disturbs me/). I think this is more like an idols AU, and the relationships are significantly more catty and have more drama, but they're all actors/other entertainment related career lol so it's also kind of actors au?

The company probably tried for a ninjas/powers theme during recruitment and promotion so that's where you get Kakashi associated with dogs and lightning, Sasuke associated with snakes and later hawks and fire, Naruto associated with frogs and wind, Sakura associated with slugs and healing, Itachi associated with crows and dreams, Haku associated with ice and mirrors, Sai associated with tigers and ink, Tenzo/Yamato associated with trees, Gaara associated with tanuki and sand etc.

Itachi and Sasuke have an infamous rivalry that never really "resolves" so much as disappears because Itachi retires for a few years to deal with physical and mental health issues. It would be during this time he goes public with a relationship and he gets married before making a comeback. Even after the brothers reconcile and do projects together, people still bring up their Fighting Era and it pisses Sasuke off because the public doesn't really know what happened and he hates the speculation. Part of the controversy is that Sasuke left the company only a few years after signing on, joined a small rival company that was later embroiled in scandal, and then returned to the same company as his brother right around the time Itachi took a break.

Kakashi is the oldest of the "new generation" that's promoted during that time, but he's a very successful child actor turned model and adult actor. He did a bunch of shows that have great repeat value though so he basically lives off residuals and picks his projects and is very obvious but rather quiet about the ways he critiques the current entertainment industry. He's very good friends with Tenzo, stagename Yamato

Haku is a musician first and an actor second. He made his debut as part of a short lived idol group before going solo and starting musical stages. He's an up and coming favorite for historical dramas.

Gaara and Naruto are child actors who have been best friends for ages and help one another work through the inevitable industry challenges. They separately become really popular role models for kids from their hometowns. Kankuro is Gaara's personal rock in the working world, even though Kankuro's bad-boy image and slightly freaky aesthetic don't surface level seem to match with Gaara's more reserved and authentic method of dealing with the constant press.

Shikamaru and Nagato both separately give me musician/model vibes, but in different genres. Shikamaru quits the music thing very quickly to become a producer lol because more math and less fighting with fickle public opinion.

Mystic Messenger

If you sketch the the poster idea you haaaave to post it, please pretty please Amy?? Because you're so right, the whole plot is absolutely like a thriller/romcom kdrama. (Because the characters are well fleshed out it could also work with preserving the character backstories but have them all have entered acting later on.)

I looked up some Kdrama posters and the one where the leads for "because this is my first life" are standing in a stylized apartment balcony reminded me somewhat of thee game, mostly because the MC is stuck in the apartment for a good portion of the seven days lol.

If the whole Mystic Messenger plot were a drama...

MC is probably a rookie actor with one or two well done but not widely distributed productions under their belt.

Yoosung was maybe a child-actor which makes the whole ingenue thing kind of funny for his fans. Like yes, this is his first "adult role" (his baby face means he otherwise plays a lot of high schoolers) but it's this odd mixture of experience meaning he plays the role perfectly, but lack of experience with normal people resulting in a lot of blushing and stammering and totally tunnel vision flirting during the press tour haha.

I'd love for Jumin to come from a similar but less severe situation as game-Jumin. Like maybe his father has remarried a bunch of times, but he actually gets along with the stepmother who's been his mother for most of his life and he takes her to premiers with him. He grew up poor so he finds playing a lot of wealthy heirs type characters because of his looks to be a very strange turn of events, but he overall doesn't talk about his past much in public.

Hmmm, Jaehee seems the type to play a lot of severe characters in her usual roles because of her appearance, but like game-Jaehee she's got a very cute and adorable side that's coupled with a very genuine personalty. The interviewers probably make her do a lot of aegyo T.T poor Jaehee. She probably also worked her way through a prestigious drama school, either in-country or abroad, so she loves to read.

Zen always offers to do the aegyo with Jaehee so she doesn't have to suffer alone haha. He on the other hand never went to drama school, he's been acting since he was about 17 so all his training was in-company, although his company helped to put him through college where he did an advertising and media degree. He didn't have the exposure Jaehee did to classical media and arts, so they are irl very good friends who bond over their interest in business and Zen's interest in gaining a deeper understanding of acting and theater.

I see 707 as the person who was probably an idol musician before he started acting and mostly left group music behind. I've never played his route through, but he seems like the kind of person who is sometimes frustratingly talented lol. He is a natural at almost everything he tries which sometimes stresses him out because he wonders if there's something else he should be doing besides acting.

V seems like the kind of person however who was maybe a model first, and then turned to acting? I hate to say this, but it's the kind of situation where his incredible looks and sweet irl personality have garnered him a very devoted following but his parts in dramas tend to be second-string or somewhat minor or... kind of weird lol, and when he is the lead the show is usually only "okay" because the writing will be strange 😅 which is technically not his fault, but to be honest most of his income comes from promotional deals.

You like Saeran, right? so I won't leave him out! He's got this doe-eyed look that makes me think of a new debut actor! This is also one of his first major roles so he and MC lean on each other a lot and have to work hard to make sure their relationship off-screen is comfortable because they have so many scary intense scenes later on. He and 707 are either irl siblings, or just because so close during filming that they're truly like brothers now and 707 is always seen supporting Saeran, especially when Saeran decides to venture into the music scene and his vocal style and color means he explodes into popularity almost right away.

The Arcana

Somehow I can see this becoming an HBO drama? or maybe an Akuzon special because it's very good about placing lgbtq themes in-world (which was sort of groundbreaking when the game debuted). This one is so hard because each route gradually ended up diverging so much and in such different ways and expanding on the world in such a rewarding diversity of directions that you could truly have a beautiful, successful show no matter what route was filmed.

You could potentially have a Witcher-type situation where you really do have multiple routes and timeline splitting. If someone who's got a really good editing team working with a really tight writing team I think they could do it.

But otherwise, this is another situation where the main cast has had friend configurations for a While and doing this project brought them all closer together!

Ilya and Asra have known one another probably the longest industry-wise. They did a smaller well received indie film once about five years before Arcana with the vaguest of nods to brokeback mountain (I've never seen it, sorry) but a much happier road trip lovers plot, so having to play disillusioned, one-sided pining ex-lovers who had a very toxic last year to their relationship is... something XD.

Asra and Muriel have been personal friends since their days as students - they went to the same camps and programs to study acting and in their interviews, they have a fun time talking about some personal anecdotes (like the fact they did indeed frequently camp at a lakeside together as children) which made it into their own characters' backstories.

Nadia and Lucio are very Nikolaj/Gwendoline during their press and off-screen interactions. They find their characters' personas to be sort of hilariously poorly matched.

Portia is a famously hard working actress who clawed her way through the world of cinema and still managed to stay a decent, well grounded person. She's not actually related to Ilya irl but they got along really well from the beginning so there's lots of videos of them acting like siblings off screen.

Because the on-site shoots for Arcana required so much travel, the cast got to spend a lot of bonding time together, and saw a ton of unique places. The cast always has stories of swimming and hiking or trying new food or pictures of each other at famous sites during their days off. Muriel is actually the one who plans the outdoor adventures the best, he was an athlete and had military training before becoming an actor and he loves being outside so he'll lead these kinds of outings. People adore his social media because he's got that outdoors guy vibe but he's very sweet and he smiles a lot more irl than his roles usually do.

Portia and Julian are the most likely to get lost in any place, but they're also super fun to travel with because they always find interesting people and places that are off the beaten path.

Nadia and Asra have the most normal but also most aesthetic social media feeds. They always seem able to catch the golden hour light somehow...

After Arcana, they each often end up cast in or around the same movies/franchises/series as well, because they do work very well together. The show also helped them break out of some type casting, to their delight.

Lucio trends towards action and romcom films, he does often get typecast as some kind of villain, but his redemption arc in Arcana actually helped him break into more of the antihero type roles. He can be adorably goofy at times.

Nadia used to play the femme fatale quite frequently but since Arcana she's been able to take on softer roles, still often playing a woman in power, but she's been able to mix and cross genres. She also has been working on a screenplay and wants to try directing.

Portia was famous before Arcana but the show helped enter her into some of the more mainstream conversation and she has her first action-type role soon after Arcana ends.

Asra has a delicate physique and had some trouble in the past with being passed over roles that required more "force of presence" in the past. However, since showing his side as the secretive, enigmatic, manipulative magician, he's been able to try on the hats of villains, return to some roles on the true stage (his first love), and play the lead in a more serious political thriller.

Muriel had the opposite problem with his large build often precluding him from anything but action films. Since Arcana he's been able to try a few romantic lead parts, and has embraced his popularity by searching out meaningful mid-budget films where he can broaden his talents.

Julian is very tall, so he used to play quite a few more domineering, dastardly types in the films he did before Arcana. The show also brought him into the spotlight. He still does well as the sneering, dangerous, tall and dark type, but he's found that he can and is willing to push for playing something softer, someone who follows instead of leads in the on-screen dynamics. You and Ilya end up in a bodyguard type of drama at some point where he spends a lot of time on his knees swearing his devotion and playing a lot of subtext lol.

MC in this seems like they would have been a more experienced actor before taking on the linchpin role for Arcana, but the show granted you the experience to step into other roles both in front of and behind the camera and we'll probably see an MC directed and produced short film or indie film within the next few years!

[lutawolf]

UWMA Soft D/s Moments Ep 10-11

For other episode, check out my master list here.

The show starts with Korn and In dancing/hugging in their apartment. To me, Korn already has a sense of loss. In knows something is wrong but doesn't know how to ask. Because we all know how Korn doesn't communicate well. Honestly, though, this moment feels like Korn has already decided his course of action and is just soaking up memories.

We have a cute moment with Dean and Pharm on Pharm's bed. That's about the brattiest I've ever seen Pharm be to Dean 🤣🤣🤣There were a few moments in there that were for sure Dom. The wanting to drive Pharm and him telling Pharm to take a shower first.

Moving on to the kitchen sink. Dean oversteps Pharm's boundaries. Pharm stood up for himself. This is 100% valid. Subs have boundaries, and submissive doesn't equal not being able to stand up for themselves. It just means they don't want to have control. Those two things are not mutually exclusive.

WinTeam time. Team can't sleep, so he heads to Win's apartment. Win asks what he is doing here but immediately nods when Team asks to stay. Team being the brat, he is antagonizes Win by taking up the whole bed. Does not listen to Win when he is told to move. Yet Win is not pushy because he wants to punish Team. Which he does. Team was antagonizing a response out of Win but doesn't know what to do with him now that he has him. He panics and pushes Win away. Team tries to put up a dominant front and hasn't really figured out how to lower it. It really doesn't bother Win, though. When Team needs to be submissive, he is. Like him asking Win to take him to see the lights. It wasn't, "Let's go see the lights." or "I'm taking you to see the lights." He said, "Win, can you take me to see the lights?" Then he asks Win if he can hug him to sleep. See the submission there.

We start the series off in episode 11 with Korn being late. I like the true apologies. We are starting to see a softening in Korn that is much needed. Him considering someone other than himself. In kisses Korn's check and while Korn is concerned about being seen. He doesn't come off as harsh as he normally does.

I really love the part next to the car when Dean just holds out a hand. Pharm tries to play clueless, but when Dean says "keys," he hands them over. Then Dean tells him good boy. Using that praise kink as a reward.

Now we are at the same spot that Korn and In were. Dean makes sure that they are there before the shops are closed. Dean kisses Pharm this time and he could give a fuck less who sees them.

Okay, so why is going and seeing the lights so important if he isn't even paying attention. It's something couples do. Now, by this point, they are already a couple, but Team is still nervous about that. He needs constant reassurance. Win taking him to see the lights reassures him they are a couple. Win immediately recognizes this and gets a "mistletoe." He tells this story to Team, and Team is immediately like, where do we get mistletoe. I'm so down for this long-lasting relationship. And so we get the broccoli.

In ties a red ribbon around Korn's wrist. Notice that when In goes to take Korn's wrist, Korn just goes with it. He trusts In now in a way he didn't before. He didn't even think to question it until he saw the red thread and wanted to know what's going on. He is immediately concerned about the bad omen and goes back into the harsher Korn from before. He quickly softens in the face of In. Though he thumps him, he still assures him that he will be with him forever. Now I know what you're thinking. Luta, didn't you say last time that Korn planned on doing something bad. I do. In the flashbacks, there are times when see Korn is strong in his relationship and then times when he falters under the stress and the belief that he has no way out.

We quickly see what I mean in the part. In Pharm's dream. Then Dean and Pharm meet up. With Dean immediately recognizing there was something wrong and when he realizes he can't do much to help. He moves to distracting Pharm. Which works to cheer him up.

I love the bedroom scene. I love how Pharm is more confident but you can watch it and see that, Dean has the control. The way Pharm tells him to stop and Dean just over rides, "No." Then we get to Dean asking Pharm if he is hungry. Pharm immediately jumps up and apologizes. My husband does this. Dean tells him that he is going to take care of him this time. This is considered providing care. So basically it's a way to show their appreciation. Some subs never want this and then there are subs who need to know on occasion that they are valued. Or the Dom themselves might need to do this. It just depends on the guidelines of that individual relationship.

So that's it. Hope you guys enjoyed it! 💜💜💜 This is dedicated to @darkrose82 @thegildedacorn @thequeenofsastiel @bengiyo @dayummmdorisss @tabbygray @tleighblack @amos-reviews-main

[candied-boys]

Luke's POV x F! Reader - Part 6

Warning: Dark Content!

Including but not limited to references to prostitution, child neglect and abuse, war and death, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, suicidal ideation, and historically accurate ages for relations. The dark content is almost entirely drawn from/same as Luke's route.

Themes: protection, hurt and comfort, mutual healing, learning to trust, letting yourself feel, and eventually giving into love. Everything is written from Luke's POV.

Part 5

“His nose looks funny,” her soft giggle interrupts the crackle and spark of the fire.

Under the bright light it casts, she holds up her bear to compare with your own.

“Kinda looks like somebody took a nibble off it, huh? If y’ thread over this top edge of the triangle here again and straighten it out, he'll look just fine,” you explain and show her where to stitch.

Perched in your lap on the floor in front of the hearth, she loops the black thread through again while you watch from where you rest your chin on her shoulder. Your arms lay wrapped loosely around her waist now that she's nearly finished. The last few hours you had been holding her hands or the fabric or the needle while you taught her how to make a stuffed bear.

You cut out the pattern for her, then made each piece together. You made an arm, then she tried the same, and so on until you got to the head. Making it perfectly round isn't easy, but you didn't want to take over. Instead you took her hands in yours until she got a feel for turning the fabric as she sewed so that the bear wouldn't end up with square cheeks.

“How's that?” she chirps, clearly proud of her improvement.

“Y're a natural. All that's left to stitch are the eyes.”

That hesitant pout you're so familiar with now is enough to tell you she wants you to do them for her, but you still coax her into speaking her mind.

“What's that face, hmm? Gettin’ tired?”

Her brows furrow a little as she shakes her head, staring intently down at the creature in her hands.

“Wanna do somethin' else?”

This time she turns to meet your gaze, her bottom lip poking out even more before she mumbles, “He'll look silly if I don't get the eyes right… They're the most important part…”

“Well, y’ could make him a lazy bear and give him sleepy eyes? I'm sure y’ could do that real easy.”

When she doesn't answer, you ruffle her hair.

“Y’ want me to do it, don't y’?”

The way she brightens instantly and hands you the bear with a smile makes it impossible to be strict with her.

“A’right. A’right. Give him here.”

Now it's her turn to watch as you carefully draw the needle and thread through the soft fabric, shortening your stitches bit by bit to make a perfect half-circle before finishing the opposite half the same way.

“You're so talented, Luke,” she breathes as you start on the other eye.

“Nah, I've just done it a hundred times now. Y'll get good with practice too.”

“A hundred…? Where did all those bears go?”

Her pretty eyes glitter with confusion in the firelight as she looks up at you, but you can't bring yourself to meet her gaze as you continue sewing. Perhaps you should've said you gave them all away to orphans or some shit because the longer you stay silent the more you can feel her tense in your arms.

“Luke…?”

Ducking out of sight, you rest your forehead on her shoulder and wait for the angry tears you're choking back to pass.

“Are they with Leyla?” she asks softly.

You barely manage a nod, and she asks no more. Instead she wriggles out of your hold to face you and wraps her arms around your neck, soothing the ache in your throat as her hands run through your hair over and over.

The unfinished bear falls to the floor, your arms cinching around her back. Face buried in the crook of her neck, you find your own tongue betrays you as everything pours forth unbidden.

“I make them to keep her alive… Each one holds a different memory we shared together... Every couple of months I take them back to Espoir — back to the house I rebuilt. I've lost count of how many I've sewn her now… but I remember every single moment I associated with each bear while working on it…”

“That must make Leyla very happy,” she murmurs, her round cheek pressing against your crown.

Honey means well. Her voice is full of tenderness. But maybe that's exactly why it draws out the sobs you've been fighting back.

I know she's gone.

I know my love can't reach her anymore.

I know she isn't happy.

I know she doesn't see me tryin' to keep her alive.

She hasn't received any of the letters I've written over the last ten years.

She doesn't hear the whispered promises.

She doesn't share this longing to be together again.

She doesn't even remember me...

Because she's just not here anymore.

But without this lie, you could never keep going. You have to believe that your memory is enough to keep you two connected. If you don't, you can't hope to survive long enough to take revenge.

So you lie to yourself.

Every moment of every day.

Struggling to breathe, you recount as many scenes as you can until you calm down. Like hypnotizing yourself into believing, you walk through each vivid memory over and over until they feel real again. This has become a ritual for you over the years; the only way you know how to cope with the overwhelming distress of reality.

“Maybe you should go visit her. You haven't been in a while because of me, right?”

When you only shake your head and nuzzle further into her warm embrace she tries again, “I'll be okay by myself for a few days. If you're still worried about my safety, I promise I'll stay inside while you're gone.”

“That's not it…”

It's hardly more than a breath, but she always hears you.

“I don't wanna…”

The pop and crumple of blackened logs collapsing into embers fills the gap while you try to talk yourself out of this. But like so many times since she arrived, you can't seem to stop yourself from unlocking the shackles you've kept on your heart — even against your better judgement.

“Go by myself…”

But I don't wanna take y’ there — to where y’ lost everything…

Especially not for me — just because I'm scared I'll give in and never come back…

She leans away and you reluctantly take the cue to seek those achingly gentle eyes. The moment you find them, your heart slips past your lips, “Maybe… it’d make her happy… wherever she is now… If she were here, I'd introduce y’ two. Leyla would love y’…”

“Would that make you happy, Luke?”

The subtle curve of her cheeks further softens her gaze and your trepidation with it, coaxing out an honest nod.

Part 7

[zalrb]

Oh you’re watching Bojack! Did you try watching it before? I feel like I remember saying you couldn't get into it, though probably thinking of something else. How do you like it so far, seeing you’re on season 3 now?

Yeah, i watched a couple of episodes of season 1 and didn’t find it funny but I was telling @rabbitsrants about the sopranos and she was talking about how there seemed to be some similarities between bojack and tony, which makes sense now that I’m watching it because I view bojack in the tony soprano mould, so when I finished my sopranos rewatch I decided to give it another go.

It’s definitely an interesting viewing experience because I recognize that it’s a good exploration of depression and addiction but I’m not all that interested in bojack as a character especially coming off of a sopranos binge because while bojack is a horse he’s coded as a white middle aged man and I’ve watched enough explorations of morally grey/not particularly good white male characters (walt -breaking bad) with depression (tony -the sopranos ) or dysfunctional back stories (don-mad men) who are creatives (hank -californiacation) and bojack as a character is a continuation of that thread but a horse and that doesn't really do much for me when i don't find anything particularly new about his character or about how they approach that emotional premise of the show, he's simply a horse, which is why I couldn’t get into the show in the first place because I was like I’ve watched this over and over. This type of white male character is essentially a staple of “auteur” television or “prestige” television (these came out after but like Barry or Succession, there’s no shortage of deeply flawed white men to watch).

BUT I find the tongue-in-cheek jokes about Hollywood and celebrity and movies/television really funny and clever so like when Jessica Biel makes an appearance and Diane doesn’t know who she is despite Jessica listing off her accomplishments and she’s like *sigh* I was on seventh heaven and posed topless for a magazine and Diane was like oh YEAH, i cackled or the pointed “this is about improv NOT Scientology” speech or the fact that they still call it hollywoo, or the fact that bojack sees a therapist briefly who is voiced by lorraine braco who played dr. melfi i.e. tony's therapist in the sopranos, that type of stuff, the minutiae of the world I do find hilarious because a lot of it is for people who love/watch a lot of movies/television so there's this appreciation for the medium in the show that i like, or when they incorporate aspects of them being animals into their personalities like mr. peanutbutter hating tennis and the mailman. and I do like the dark jokes like when a random bird tries to jump off from a building but starts flying and is like dammit I forgot I could fly. Basically, most things not bojack is what keeps me entertained.

Although there are some poignant lines around bojack that resonated. I’d seen people be like oooh yeah about Wanda’s when you look at things through rose coloured glasses red flags just look like flags but I was more oh damn about bojack’s explanation of why they’re breaking up i.e you didn’t know me then fell in love with me then got to know me etc. and I like the flashbacks with his mother because she’s terrible but has some really funny lines. And there are certain episodes that I do end up invested in seeing just how terrible he is, like the New Mexico episode and everything that went on with penny and charlotte and prom.

[divinekangaroo]

hi! i commented on the fic itself but i have to know more - absolutely loved ‘just enough to let me drown’ and very intrigued by the essay you said you could write about ‘the one thing he’s never done’ - if you’re up for it, i would love to hear said essay

Link to work in progress fic:

Many, many overlapping concepts, really, which are difficult to get into a coherent flow. I have attempted across a couple of posts!

Relevant interlocking quotes and some notes within:

Tommy’s standing in the hotel foyer conflicted between wanting and not wanting people to recognise him and Diana, and he thinks:

‘…a hope they were recognised [can someone on the outside see something’s not right here?], because it scratched [listening for the sound of something on the other side of the tunnel wall scratching through] at him uneasily [see below], this particular proving, her dressed like that [upper class] and him dressed like this [working man]. If Mosley was somehow contriving to hit him with a charge of rape[where did that word suddenly come from, Tommy, with no context for it?], or to blackmail him with this somehow [Mosley has blackmailed Tommy before], there might be some doubt if people witnessed him and her together at peace [peace is a loaded word for Tommy: truce? weapons down? death (RIP)?  Or simply acceptance?] … It hurt so much [being raped hurts] to think that word [rape] for some reason [why are you being vague, Tommy?  You know the reason]. Tommy Shelby, gone down at last [put in prison/convicted/hung] for rape. The one thing he’d never done [how so very ironic if he was convicted in a legal system for this, given further context below]. He was so careful about that [not committing rape]. [Because he’s so very careful that sex is either a clear transaction/trade for coin, hence the prostitutes, or because he makes sure to explicitly verbally articulate the question “Do you want to fuck/fuck me?” and obtains return consent.] He knew there was a line [reference to crossing the line, in the context of going too far and not caring about unintended consequences, raping children, impact to Charlie, abusing power, abusing trust, or in this context, committing a sex act a rape]. It was barely a thread [the line itself is very difficult to see and it’s so thin and easy to cross and it’s also very easy to break].’

When he’s in the hotel room kneeling on the floor between Diana’s legs, the actual quote from palmviolet’s query:

‘This same odd ringing trepidation [anxiety/tunnels again, the looming dread of hearing and waiting for the collapse or explosion or bang] from before, that word [rape] like a bell [the institutional bell; institutions and the abuse of power particularly against children]. The one thing he’d never done [per the first quote, but the trepidation now intensifies because he’s actually in a sexual position now, and he also has a visual loop of sexualised violence playing in his head as a kind of unexpected thing which is making him hard.  The first quote using this statement was an intellectual response (they might be setting me up for rape) but thinking it now is because of this layer born from hyperanxiety/intrusive thinking (what if I accidentally do rape her?)] Why did he keep thinking it? [rape.  And why does he keep thinking it?  He can’t set the word aside.  More on this below] Imagine leaving Charlie with that for a father [more on this below]. Not that on top of everything else.  [Rape being the worst crime Tommy can think of, he’d accept going down for murder, for theft, extortion, tax crimes, smuggling, but not rape.  More on this below]’

And then after the act, where we circle back to his canon flashback on the narrowboat, when he ‘found himself at the narrowboat’ [also a deliberate choice of “found himself:” he’s back at his first childhood home to find himself after being lost and adrift with Diana]:

‘Sprawling on that narrow bunk where his father slept with his mother and fucked her willing and unwilling [confusing for kids because why could sex sometimes be ok and sometimes not?] for years while they all listened and did nothing.’ [Home was the first place he learned about rape, the source of why rape is the worst crime Tommy can think of because it's the only marker that now distinguishes himself from his violent father, and the first place he felt powerless against rape/sex generally.  More below.]

Broader Thought Piece:

Three layers in the quote palmviolet flagged

The first superficial layer, intended to be overtly read, is him thinking this: they have so much power over him, and sex from a position of power is rape; Diana could easily cry rape before, during or after, and her word against his would see him put away. After everything he’d done and contrived and hidden, it would be this stupid sex act where he’s not even actually raping her that sees him done and hanged. It would be ironic and horrible.

Except that’s the oh so very easy thing to think. Thinking that repeatedly and on loop lets him cope with the shape of the word rape without having to think the more disturbing and deeper thing, the thing that “scratched at him uneasily”. Because he doesn’t want to have sex with Diana, and yet he will have sex with Diana, and there’s no guarantee there is a transaction or a return benefit to make this an overt acceptable trade, because Diana didn’t agree to help him. And if he doesn’t want sex and there’s no transaction and yet sex is still happening, that’s rape, isn’t it?

Except he cannot think that about himself. Not only for the attack that the thought makes on his identity, masculinity and power, but also because the very law and mores of the time don’t even let that be considered. It’s not possible for a woman to rape a man. Yet this stupid word keeps bouncing around his skull, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

So he pivots it even further into this twisted anxiety of ‘I might accidentally commit rape on her, because I am a violent man, and my mind’s decided to think some pretty violent sexual things which she can’t possibly want. And unfortunately I can’t actually speak (part of the oral trauma was the symbolism of violently silencing him, albeit he’s not that badly hurt) to ask her the way I might usually do, and so I have no way of navigating this sanely’.

These three readings as the guts of the fracture in Tommy’s thinking:

- ‘they have power over me and might get me for rape’ (which he thinks is rational but is actually irrational) – surface

- ‘why do I keep thinking the word rape? Why?’ (the emotional response/the anger and disgust and shame) the hook for the reader to recognise it’s him avoiding thinking he’s being raped – call this one the deepest layer, because he can’t even get near to thinking anything like this about himself

- the anxiety / intrusive thinking (which is absent of rationality rather than irrational) of ‘I might actually accidentally commit rape given my potential for violence and that this woman has made me angry.’ - call this the middle layer, he is aware of it at some level

Not forgetting Tommy’s rationalising that he’s doing this voluntarily, in order to eventually get what he wants out of them. He *could* just walk out of that room, right, she can’t stop him doing that. So the surface thought and middle thought are driving his actions, but the deeper thought/emotion is silenced but drives all his emotional trauma.

Gaslit into participating in his own rape

I refer to Diana x Tommy as Tommy being gaslit into participating in his own rape. He rationalises it to himself and hence participates. It’s only that deepest level of emotion/thought implied in the above quote that screams you’re being raped, trying to get him out of that room. (He manages immobility, and he manages one half-step backwards at one point, that's it.)

I speculate Tommy’s had some very open conversations with Dr Holford (a whole essay and fic in itself) which Diana and Mosley had full access to, plus a lot of background research by Mosley (alluded to with Mosely’s S5 reference to May and Diana’s S6 statement on ‘research’ to Ada; I headcanon they also spoke to Tatiana), plus Holford accessing Tommy’s earlier psychologist/psychiatrist records. They *know* Tommy’s mental/emotional state. So, when he reaches out to Diana for her financial/influential help, they contrive to put him in this situation and seem to greatly enjoy the fact he thinks he still has some kind of voluntary participation in it.

This is why I call it gaslighting and why I still think it’s rape, even though he does have all his layers of rationalising as well. The crux of this being gaslighting is: Tommy has already been given his false terminal diagnosis. His rationalising doesn't hold true if the basis of his belief is their lying.

Mosley (and Diana) have already decided that Tommy has no further use for them and he needs to die. They no longer need Tommy coming across to work under Mosley and bring political power with him. Diana fucking Tommy in this way, and the scene they then contrive with Lizzie, is entirely just Diana and Mosley fucking around for their amusement, seeing how far they can push Tommy before he kills himself or does something dangerous/destructive. His compliance is no longer meaningful to them in any political way. They just want him to hurt and they want to drive this man to suicide.

[more to come]