#never telling her the truth or trusting her with information always looking down on her 'unpure blood'

[accioscarheadthings]

ULTRAMINE ~ CHAPTER 5

kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji finds a secret that you have been keeping from him and it's making him doubt everything about you

pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader

warning: angst, arguments, emi defending you, mention of violence, gore, blood, and death, onset of a panic attack

masterlist !

an undercover agent.

working for the kdf

kenji's mind was whirling as he glared at your watch with utmost loathing. he was up early that morning, not being able to sleep much with the information he had discovered.

"good morning," you walked into his lab in the basement.

the watch slipped his grasp and he accidently kicked it your way.

you turned towards it and your expression turned alarmed at once, "kenji... where did you find that?" you had an idea of what he might of seen if he had your watch.

kenji turned around to face you, his eyes blazing with anger as he strode towards you, "the kdf? seriously?"

"oh god, ken," you covered your face with your hands, "it's not what it looks like-"

"i can't believe I trusted you. all along, you were working against us. you're nothing but a traitor!"

you flinched at his words, hurt by the disappointment and betrayal in his voice. but despite the pain, you didn't know how to tell him the truth. so you steeled yourself for his barrage of accusations.

"you had me fooled all this time. it was all just a facade, wasn't it? you were leading me on, using me to get what you wanted,"

"please, let me explain," you tried to speak, your frustration rising, "allow me to explain. i need you to trust me, kenji," you picked up the watch and strapped it around your wrist.

"i can't. not anymore," he snapped in disdain, "I thought I wasn't good enough for you, when it was you who was wrong all along, "you know deep down that you're not good enough, don't you? that's why you're always trying so hard to prove yourself. you're just a poser, pretending to be something you're not,"

your shoulders sagged at his words and your expression cleared. you swore you heart your heart crack.

ah, he hit the home run.

emi stepped between you and kenji, crying out in perplexity. she had never seen you argue with each other, but now, she didn't like it one bit.

kenji stared up at her, "step aside, young lady! you're gonna be in big trouble!"

emi trilled in retaliation, glancing at you in confusion.

you wanted to defend yourself, to prove that he was wrong, but something didn't feel right.

you couldn't breathe.

a chill slithered down your sweaty back, bursting into a shiver throughout your body.

kenji yelled, losing all sense, "emi! you're taking her side but she's the bad guy! she will kill you!"

"that's enough, kenji!" professor sato thundered, having just entered the lab, and having heard enough.

you froze, all of it sinking it. the words ascended your throat to defend yourself, and when you opened your mouth, you could hardly breathe.

you clutched your chest, scurrying out of the lab, ignoring professor sato's calls.

emi hurried after you, sobbing, but the tube elevator had disappeared out of view. she slumped down in her place with a pout, ears drooping down.

you barged into your room, leaning on the edge of your bed, and slid down the floor.

the memories of your past come rushing back to you like a tidal wave.

flashes of your parents’ faces, their voices, and the sound of the door being broken down by armed guards fill your mind.

you were transported back to that terrifying day when your parents were arrested, your body trembling with fear and anger. You watched as the guards roughed up your parents, grabbing them without any consideration.

you feel the familiar pang of betrayal as you watch your parents being dragged into the van, their shouts of protest silenced by the KDF officers.

"no," you hit the side of your head repeatedly to knock off the images, "stop it!"

the scene changed, and you saw your parents being taken to a high-security facility. you watched as they were separated and taken to different rooms, their faces etched with worry and pain.

as you follow your parents, the memory begins to blur and shift. you can see your parents being subjected to intense questioning, their bodies bound to chairs as their minds are probed and invaded.

screams of pain echoed throughout the facility they tortured your parents to no end. blood oozing out of their skin where they had been beaten and battered up for information.

as you came out of the flashback, you were brought back to the present moment. the memories of your parents' arrest and torture came flooding back, and you felt yourself starting to spiral into yourself.

your breathing became shallow, your hands shaking, your mind racing with images of your parents in agony and drenched in blood.

your knees buckled, and you found yourself sinking to the ground. you could feel the onset of a panic attack, your body beginning to shake, chest tightening.

your watch beeped and your warbird suit encapsulated you, covering you from head to toe, metal plates shifting upwards over your body.

"no, not now," you screwed your eyes shut, reaching out to reality and attempting to steady your breathing.

snapping them open, your suit lit up and you began to gather yourself.

"her parents died that day," professor sato explained to kenji over the cries of emi, "they didn't make it through the interrogation. at first, y/n's father thought they were getting arrested for the identity of warbird, partner in crime of ultraman," he scoffed, "but they were wrong. it was for their involvement in kaiju studies. y/n's father knew where kaij island was. so they thought they could torture it out of him. it got so severe that they-" he paused, screwing his eyes shut in agony, "they tortured them to death," his voice shook.

kenji shut his eyes, his heart heavy with sorrow, regret, and guilt. The weight of his actions and the full extent of his guilt started to sink in, and he began to understand the gravity of his words.

"the kdf disposed of their bodies by faking a car accident. inconsiderate of the little girl that was orphaned," professor sato's heart ached at the memory, his eyes getting glassy.

"y/n got into the kdf under a fake name by using her skill and expertise to know why they were specifically after emi. and also to know if her parents were, by some miracle, still alive,"

"kenji, professor sato," mina interrupted, "dr. y/n is experiencing a panic attack. i suggest immediate assistance before her condition gets worse,"

kenji felt his heart drop, "where is she?" he spun around to face the ai, who was also worried for you.

"in the guest room, but kenji-"

he didn't let her finish. he rushed to the elevator, his brain screaming at him to get to you at once, "dad, watch emi, i'll go check in on y/n,"

once kenji skidded to a stop in front of your room, he found the door ajar. stepping in, he took in the bedroom's state of disarray.

several items were strewn across the room as though you had stumbled over them. the sheets on the bed were yanked off, leaving the mattress exposed.

but most of your things were gone, and so were you, leaving the balcony door open.

he sat alone in the empty room, consumed by a wave of guilt that seemed to crush him. he replayed the argument over and over in his mind, your broken expression, berating himself for the heated words he had spoken and the hurtful tone he had used.

he regretted allowing his emotions to boil over and push you away. the silence of the room was almost deafening, intensifying his sense of remorse and longing for your presence.

TAGLIST !

@earth-to-mee @sassy-cat-in-town @breaddippedinorangejuice @nuhteyam @gameboigyu @byunpum @jennypenny-19 @doublebunv @moonjellyfishie @m00nd0v3 @despacito-uwu16 @reivelmin @seyoran @warlike-morning @crimson-mage-02 @b3e-sat0 @miffysoo @t4naiis @lovingyeet  @imsimping4life @mmeerraa @btszn @jusmango-shak @yobriisstuff @goldenpoison @fruchtgeschmack @iateurdad16 @bandolls @lovingyee @reivelmin @f-ergj @arrozyfrijoles23 @aise-30 @simp-hub @armycaratlover

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

ahhh!! i'm sorry for the angst, my loves!

they will make it up to each other so, don't worry about it. even after i finish the series, i'll be writing drabbles because i can't get enough of kenji sato. if you guys have any requests, don't hesitate to send them.

also, do you guys want another smut chapter? i think it'll be an overkill. but if you guys want it, i'll make it work somehow;)

let me know below <33

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi!

I love your writing and I have a small (really small more of a blurb) request for Jace, like a small scene between him and reader like we had last episode between him and Baela but I’d love to see how Jace feels about Harwin not just what he remembers of him but like what he feels about being a bastard and if he cares (or cared) for harwin, I’d love to see him trust the reader enough to really get into his feelings about being a bastard bc that’s definitely something that really affects him but it’s never vocalized yk? And I’d love to see the reader comfort him and tell him that harwin absolutely loved them BC HE LOVED THEM SO MUCH 😭😭😭

Thank u sm!!!

Request: Jace and Dornish reader talking about fathers and her asking about Ser Harwin like Baela did.

Warnings: mention of character death (past),

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

A letter came by raven from your father. It was a long way from Dorne, you didn’t receive them often. You thought it would brighten your day after the horrifying news and accusations about your Queen that came from King’s Landing, but instead it made you sad. To see his handwriting, to hear the words in his voice — in your head. 

You missed him — and your mother. 

Dragonstone was your home now. It was Jacaerys’ inheritance as heir. It’s where you would raise your children and spend your life until it would be his turn to take the Iron Throne. 

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks brought you to the beach. You sat on the sand, watching the waves ride up the shore. It was the only part of the island that connected to Dorne. You missed swimming in the gardens, the feeling of the warm sun on your skin, the fruits that grew. 

‘’You missed supper,’’ the voice of Jacaerys informed, coming from behind you. 

‘’I wasn’t hungry.’’ 

You heard his footsteps on the damp sand, accompanied by the sound of his sword rubbing against his breeches as he walked. 

‘’I don’t think anyone was, really. Too many empty seats.’’ He dropped down onto the sand beside you, and nudged your shoulder. ‘’Have you seen any whales?’’ 

You turned and gave Jacaerys a look. ‘’Whales?’’ you repeated. ‘’There is no whales here.’’ 

He laughed, well aware and only jesting. His jests usually made you smile, but a sad pout was etched on your face. ‘’What’s on your mind?’’ he asked, placing a hand on your knee. 

‘’I received a letter from my father.’’

‘’Your father?’’ Jacaerys’ smile dropped slightly, now replaced by a concerned look. ‘’Is everything alright?’’  

You gave him a small nod. ‘’Yes. All is well. I just…miss him dearly.’’ 

A quietness fell between you. The salt-laden breeze rustled through your hair as you fought the tears brimming your eyes. 

‘’What do you remember of your father?’’ you asked, breaking the silence.

‘’He taught us to catch fish. And sing sailor shanties,’’ Jacaerys said, a grin tugging at his lips and his eyes brightening with fond recollections.

You chuckled, the sound mingling with the rhythm of the waves.

‘’He had a weakness for cake,’’ he added. 

‘’And…Ser Harwin Strong?’’

Although you agreed to turn a blind eye, you knew the truth of Jacaerys’s true parentage. He bore the name ‘Velaryon’, but there was no Velaryon blood in him. 

Jacaerys stiffened at the mention of Ser Harwin, having not heard his name in so long. His mother never spoke of him after they returned from Laena’s funeral.  

‘’He was gentle. And fierce,’’ he finally said, his eyes meeting yours. There was a veil of sadness in them, missing the man who left too soon. ‘’They called him ‘Breakbones’.’’

You laughed softly, and Jacaerys mirrored you. It felt good to talk about Ser Harwin. 

‘’He loved us,’’ Jacaerys continued, his voice quieter, almost unsure. ‘’I think.’’ 

‘’Of course he did,’’ you quickly reassured, covering his hand on your knee with yours. ‘’When did you suspect he was your father?’’ 

‘’A part of me always knew he was our father,’’ he admitted, his eyes distant as he recalled his memories. ‘’He was always looking out for Luke and I in the training yard, and making sure we would behave around Mother. He taught me how to hold a sword, how to strike my opponent.’’ 

He paused, a particular moment sparking his mind. 

‘’One day, he defended me in the training yard during an unfair match: me against Aegon. Aegon was taking his anger out on me and playing foul while Ser Criston turned a blind eye. Ser Harwin noticed Aegon’s tactics and pulled me aside to give me advice, but Aegon was older and stronger. He kicked me to the ground and angrily swung his wooden sword at me. Ser Harwin intervened, taking Aegon away from me.’’

‘’He was protecting you.’’

Jacaerys nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He remembered the fight against Criston Cole that followed. The fight that got Ser Harwin dismissed from the City Watch and sent to Harrenhal. He also remembered the horrible news he woke up to days later: Lord Lyonel Strong and his son, Ser Harwin Strong, had died in a fire.  

Being from Dorne, you had never met Ser Hawrin, but he sounded like he was a good man, a devoted father. 

‘’What did he look like?’’ 

‘’He was tall with broad shoulders. He was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms,’’ he said, his voice tinged with pride. ‘’He had dark curls and eyes—’’

‘’Like you,’’ you interjected with a soft smile. 

The dark curls that framed his face were the first thing you noticed when he stepped down his dragon in Dorne. As he got closer, his eyes caught yours and his stern face lit up, mesmerized by your Dornish beauty. Before he spoke a word to your father, you were already scheming your way into his heart — and breeches.

Jacaerys smiled, a faint reflection of his father in his expression. ‘’Like me.’’

‘’He would be proud of you. Of the kind and honorable man you’ve become.’’ 

Your words made his cheeks flush, the color deepening as you reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He was so beautiful. Your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb gently caressing his lightly freckled skin. 

He drew in a breath and looked down. ‘’I miss him.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[holylulusworld]

Sewer rat (2)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup

Sewer Rat (1)

Sewer rat masterlist

Prey. That’s what you are to James Buchanan Barnes. Well, at least you’re not a sewer rat to him. As long as your information is useful to him, you’re safe.

For how long, you don’t know. He’s, just like Tony, a cold-hearted man unable to feel compassion or love. Sadly, you realized too late that Tony Stark could never love you.

“Let me get this straight. Tony threw you out with nothing but a towel. Still, you got this.” Bucky holds up the little black book. “How did you manage to steal his black book in only a towel?”

“My bathrobe,” your voice cracks, and you drop your gaze. “Did you not wonder why I fought tooth and nail to get my bathrobe, not a pretty dress or at least shoes?” You lift your head to look Bucky straight in the eyes. “The moment Tony Stark stepped into my life, I knew it was too good to be true. Whirlwind romances and men fulfilling your every wish always come with a catch.”

“You hid the black book in the bathrobe, didn’t you?” Steve smirks. He’s impressed you thought about hiding something so valuable for hard times.

“In the first months, I was on cloud number nine, but the façade crumbled. I slowly realized that Tony is not the man he loves to pretend he is. I didn’t think he’d treat me like he did last night.”

“How did you get your hands on his black book?” Bucky is still not convinced you are telling the truth.

“He’s sleepy after—” You bite your tongue and look away. “You know, sex. I couldn’t sleep and got up to get some water. I saw his little black book and phone lying abandoned on the kitchen counter. He was so eager to fuck me in the kitchen, he forgot about it.”

Bucky clears his throat. He shudders; imagining Tony and you going at it is the last thing he wants to think about. “Go ahead, tell us everything.”

“I knew Tony had lots of these black books. He uses them for notes. I sneaked into his office and stole a new one,” you lick your lips as Bucky opens the black book to check on the first names. “That night, I copied the book, writing every contact and code word down. When I came back to the bedroom, Tony was awake. I didn’t get the chance to hide the book somewhere else but in the pocket of my bathrobe.”

“Smart girl,” Steve praises. “This probably saved your life. We are not the kind of people protecting others for free.”

“I know,” you wrinkle your nose. “If you’re not useful, you can rot in hell.” You chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not delusional nor blinded by my undying love for Tony. He showed his true colors, and all I got left is the little book in your hands and all the things I memorized to help you bring his business down.”

“I will check on the information. If you tried to trick me, the things Tony said and did to you will be a pleasant memory.” Bucky’s features darken for a moment. “Steve, ensure she gets food and show her the way to the guestroom.”

“Please come with me.” Steve holds his hand for you. You look at his large hand but refuse to take it. So far, they haven’t proven to be better than Tony. “Alright.” Steve shows his palms. “You don’t trust me. That’s fair. We don’t trust you either.”

Slowly getting up, take a deep breath. Bucky is still reading the names in the little black book. You only hope he won’t betray you too after you hand the only leverage you hold over Tony.

“The information is gold,” Jake grins while explaining every little detail he found out about the people on Tony Stark’s payroll. “He pays cops, politicians, civil servants, and prostitutes,” he laughs. “Man, even taxi driver. That man seems to be obsessed with staying informed.”

“We will start with the less powerful people. The taxi driver he pays,” Bucky points at a name in the black book. “We will talk to him first. Make sure he knows if he fucks with me, he’ll die.”

“Got it, boss,” Rumlow hums. “Do you want him in one piece, or can I rough him up a little?” He smirks at Bucky.

“We don’t want him to shit his pants yet. Bucky wants to talk to him, not scare the shit out of him. Maybe it’s enough to offer more money than Stark to him,” Steve huffs when Rumlow gets a knife out, grinning. “No violence before we tell you so.”

You’re starving. Until now, you didn’t know you were hungry. It’s been hours since Tony kicked you out of his house and life. It feels odd to give in to a primal need while your heart still lies in shambles, shattered on the ground.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bucky sits down on a chair at the kitchen counter next to you. He looks at the sandwich his cook made for you. “I hope they made something you’ll like for you.”

“I’m not picky,” you murmur before taking another bite. Bucky’s presence in the kitchen can mean two things. Your information is valuable to him, or he wants to kick you out too.

“You know,” he leans closer to steal a pickle from your plate. “I saw you at one of his parties a few months back. You helped a waitress pick up glasses after another guest bumped into her. I knew that you were different at that moment.”

“People are rude; the world too. This doesn’t mean I have to be rude too,” you sniff. “Maybe when it comes to Stark. He deserves to catch hell.”

“That guy,” Bucky steals another pickle from your plate. “Your friend. Do you think he was involved in this shitshow? I mean, he comes back to town to marry and wants to meet up with you out of a sudden.”

“If you already know all the answers, why ask questions?” You muse. “I guess he was paid to get me in trouble. I just don’t know who is behind this conspiracy and why anyone wanted Tony and me apart.”

“We will find out,” he says, eyeing the second half of your sandwich. “Your information was correct. So far. We will see if you are as valuable as you believe you are.”

“I’m not, but this,” you tip your forehead. “I memorized every shady deal and name. Whatever you want to know about his organization.”

“Jake, my smart little tech nerd, is working on finding out more about your friend and his involvement in all of this. If you are helping me, I’m helping you.”

“Quit pro quo, Mr. Barnes,” you reply, and hold out your hand.

“Quit pro quo, doll,” he says, and grabs your hand, making you squeak. "But,” he leans closer to whisper in your ear, “if you try to trick me or fuck me over, you’ll end up six feet under.”

Tags in reblog.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

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

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.”

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting—”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[brucewaynehater101]

Just a warning, this au strays a bit close to NSFW territory in that it does talk about Sex Workers, but it does not mention or describe anything specific, mostly just discussing how they operate and some dangers they may face working in Gothem.

So, we all know that Tim would do a lot for the mission right? More than most people would. I mean, just look at Brucequest or the fact he came back after his 16th birthday or his first few months as Robin when he was basically Bruce's nanny. He also has many false life's he can slip into at the drop of a hat such as Alvin Draper or Caroline Hill. So why not add one more to those personas? A woman named Jane Doe, a sex worker who works just outside Crime Alley who everyone knows and knows everyone, but no one truly knows her nor have they ever seen her face, if she even is a woman as she uses all pronouns to get just a little more mystery added to them. Their outfit is constantly changing but also very specific, a short and highly attractive dress that doesn't look cheap and a full face mask in the style of Venetian Carnival Masks, Volto design specifically so that it covers his full face but shows striking blue eyes. Those he has colored contacts that he switches around constantly.

The reason that Tim does this is simple. Information. While Jason may be able to ask the sex workers under his protection questions, they wouldn't be as open with him as they would another sex worker. Tim can get information from them, the clients, the shop owners of the area, the homeless, anyone and everyone who is often on the street or connected to it that none of the other Bats would ever be able to get. And through his... services he gets a lot of information about up coming things thanks to a special discount everyone knows about. If you tell Jane a secret they don't already know, you get 10% off his services. Tell him 2 and you get 20%. So on and so forth, but it has to be things that Tim didn't already know and he's more than happy to hear about which rouges are hiring at the moment and when they stop hiring, after all, what easier way to predict when they are gunna do stuff than by when they get new henchmen?

A lot is known about Jane Doe, yet also nothing is known. Jane doesn't keep any of the money he makes, giving it to the other girls and often extra as well. No one knows where she keeps getting 100s of dollars to just *give* them but she does. Jane has three brothers, a sister, and a father but no mother. They don't know their names, simply knowing them as N, H, C, R, and B. Whoever they are, they're a well off family but they aren't good to Jane, bad enough that Jane feels safer on the corners of Gothem than the comfort of her home. They know from "funny" stories he tells about his family or via them asking about scars he forgets misses when he covers himself in makeup (there are so many, what have they done to you child?) And him always telling something close to the truth.

They know that N is his oldest brother and the only one who cared about him for a long time, who helped him and was the first person who ever made him feel truly happy. They also know that N took something very precious from Jane Doe without Jane's permission and shattered their trust in N. Tim never told them what was taken or that it was Robin, but in a profession like the one he shares with them, they all come to the same conclusion about what was taken and why Jane might seek comfort in this line of work.

They know that H is also his older brother and has hurt Jane often. They know that the slight scar on his neck he covers with a choker or makeup was made by H, as was the bullet scar in his leg. He laughed about that one, telling his friends how H had set down one of his guns after cleaning it, R picked it up and accidentally fired it, and it bounced twice before going clean through Tim's leg. He laughs about how mad H was at both of them and how he yelled at them to not tell B or else, using a mocking tone and laughter that only causes the others to glance at eachother in worry over their friend. Tim makes sure to reassure them that he got to the blood before it dried so it wasn't to hard to clean up. Tim may have read it as anger in Jason's voice when he said to not tell, but actually it was panic and worry about Tim's wound and how Bruce would react.

They don't know much about C, only that she managed to escape the hell hole known as Gothem and lives in another country. Sometimes she comes back for visits and Jane is always very excited when she does.

The other Sex Workers don't like R. They know that R has either threatened Jane with sharp objects or actually harmed her with them many times but has never gotten in trouble for it. Any time Tim has some left over injuries from patrol, he plays it off as either R or H getting agressive with him again and tries to calm them by saying, "oh come on. Both of them have only tried to *actually* kill me twice! It's fine guys, they won't seriously injure me." While having 5 stitches in his arm.

Jane doesn't talk about their Dad much, always getting quiet and looking away when he's brought up. They ask if B has ever hit him and Jane says, "he doesn't hit me anymore." And all of them want to kill him. They want to kill all of them (except maybe C) and bury their bodies where they'll never be found.

Of course, none of the Bats know about Tim's other nightly activities and where he gets his info from, simply shrugging and moving along. Tim is terrified of any of them accidentally finding out. But unfortunately that day could be coming soon as one of the workers goes to The Red Hood and grabs him by the jacket saying, "you're supposed to protect us right? That's what you promised us, isn't it? Saftey? Well one of the others, Jane, is in deep trouble. Their family is gunna *kill* them. Do whatever you need to do to keep Jane safe from those monsters, we'll tell you what we know, but stop them before she's just another dead body in Gothem Harbor. Do we need to pay you? We'll pay you however much it takes for you to make them pay."

This does remind me of a few fics that go over Tim's "Caroline" identity combined with the idea that Bruce was worse to Tim during his Robin years. Some fics do go into Tim having to go so far as actually having sex with people while some don't.

There are also a few fics of Tim going undercover in Crime Alley as a stripper, cocktail server, sex worker, or other when Red Hood finds out and loses his shit.

The idea of Tim using a fake identity to vent about his family issues is a really cool concept! It would allow him to see how the actions done against him were shit and not okay. He may have the mindset that his trauma is fine because it happened to him, but the separation of identities may help start that realization process. I'm also all here for the identity shenanigans of someone trying to save Jane from her family and accidentally going to one of the people who's hurt them. Lovely amounts of mixed emotions there.

This fic/AU would need to be careful to address both the trauma of Tim selling himself at such a young age as well as still treat sex workers with respect, individuality, and care. It would also be cool to see how the inner workings of the sex industry may be affected by Gotham (such as rogues, toxins, corruption, wealth disparity/poverty, etc).

But yeah! Lots to explore in this AU. I wonder if Tim, in this one, cares about pronouns or gender identity. Does he enjoy crossdressing, does he experiment with his gender identity, and does he make distinctions? I think it would be cool to indicate he's closer agender but is fine with whatever. I like to imagine, in this AU, that he simply doesn't care what gender identity he's perceived as unless that identity needs a specific gender.

Anyways, I am curious about how Red Hood reacts to his characterization by Jane. I wonder if she seems to be wary or distant from him before he finds out that's Tim. Hopefully, Jason tries not to take Jane's hesitance personally. Just because Red Hood is established as a protector doesn't mean that Jane would trust him. They may have their own reasons/experiences not to that has nothing to do with the anti-hero.

[cho-aaacho]

I looked at you, I thought it was love

Masterlist

Summary : "I talk as if I know all about love, and I act as if I'm going to cry, saying I was truthful back then and saying it hurts me too. I'm sorry."

Warning : Angst

"Satoru-kun..."

A weary sigh escapes, audible when that name is uttered. Satoru doesn't turn around; instead, he remains silent, sweating, as if weighed down by something.

After three years of his absence, you found yourself summoning the courage to meet with your ex-boyfriend. 

Though you hadn't planned on it, a single thought lingered in your mind: you should meet him. You wanted to explain everything and clarify your relationship with him.

"Satoru-kun?"

Your voice echoes, calling once again with a slightly emphasized tenderness, puzzled by Satoru's lack of response. He had never been like this before; he always cared about you and loved everything about you, making it clear that you were his. 

You could always feel the tenderness of his love, the smoothness of his lips on yours, the gentle kiss on your neck, and the way he hugged your presence within his warm body.

Also, there are the tranquil eyes that imprint the soul, the serene quartz that clouds your thoughts, and the soft strands that evoke memories, most of which you wish not to forget.

But when did he change into this? Maybe when that woman came into his life—his old friend, he claimed—the one who had been involved with him since high school.

You couldn't wrap your mind around how someone like him could betray you. Even though you heard it from others and denied it at first after seeing him embrace that woman gently, kiss her in public, and boldly announce her as his new girlfriend, everything around you seems to fall.

You both were still young at the time, you knew that very well. Such things often happen in young love.

Satoru inquires, "How did you find me?"

"Haibara-san mentioned your art gallery; it looks like I'm the only person you haven't informed about this," you respond.

As you tried to compose yourself, you noticed a faint smile on his face. It was the same smile you'd always seen, yet there was something different about Satoru's eyes...

...they seemed

empty.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I didn't expect you to come here."

He seems to be trying to not care and hide the truth that he yearns for you, eagerly awaiting your return, longing for your sweet scent and the lovely endearments as in the old days. 

"It's been three years; how's your day, Satoru-kun? Are you still with her?"

"My day?" He chuckled. "Not as good as when you're around."

The void is engulfed in silence, hanging thick in the air as Satoru wrestles with his tears, battling to keep his emotions in check. A painful flashback hits him like a tidal wave when he sees you.

Looking back on it only fuels his frustration, leaving behind a pain that leaves no visible scars on his fragile heart. 

Why does everything feel so bad? So agonizing? Even the surroundings seem out of place and surreal.

Satoru asks softly. "Are you seeking revenge? By leaving me and going with him? That's what you want to tell me?"

You laugh amidst tears. "Look at yourself before speaking."

"Are you here because you're marrying someone else?" he asked. "I couldn't care less about that man, but why are you here to inflict such pain? Am I the one at fault? Tell me."

You bite your lower lip. "Well, you're the one who dumped me back then, aren't you? You chose her over me. Did you think I didn't know? For a long time, I held onto faith in you, but you shattered my trust. So why are you causing me more pain when I couldn't do the same to you?"

There's a pause, and you continue. "I'm sorry if my actions have caused you suffering; yes, I know, I can't forgive what you did. But I need to heal my heart now, and unfortunately, you're not the one to do that. I'm sorry if that sounds naive or perhaps cruel."

"I hope I still love you the way I loved you in the past, but unfortunately everything has changed. I don't want to lie to myself." You added and peeked at the wedding invitation on the table where your name and Geto Suguru's are on it.

Is it all right? All of this? Did you really want this? 

He stood up and reached out to you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace, and hugging you from behind, keeping you by his side for a while. You could feel him crying, trying not to let himself be swept away by the sensation, and convincing himself that all of this was just a dream. 

He bit his lower lip, checking if it was a dream or reality, only to realize that he was hurting himself by doing so.

He leaned down, placed his chin on your shoulder, and whispered, "I'm not afraid of you leaving; I'm afraid you'll forget me. I don't want to die with us hating each other. Please, come back to me, I'm sorry."

He continues. "Could we still meet, even though the world we tread upon doesn't allow us to meet each other? Will you always be the love of my life?"

But why now? 

Why, after you've found another man who's willing to heal your heart? Why did this happen to you?

Was Satoru just acting? Or were all the things you saw in the past just illusions? How could Satoru act in such a way and make you feel at fault?

Was he trying to manipulate you?

You never know.

[kradogsrats]

Aaravos, Leola, and the Entire History of Human Magic: Revisited

So I last dumped on this topic right after s5 released, and came up with a rough series of conclusions that were largely correct, as far as interpreting what information we had been given so far. Now that s6 has dumped some new delicious and crunchy twists into the mix, let's take another look.

The Unicorn's Gift

Going into s6, we had 2.5 accounts of the gifting of primal magic to humans: the Book One: Moon novelization, Tales of Xadia, and Ripples. In Book One: Moon, and Tales of Xadia, we learn that humans received primal magic from the/a most selfless and compassionate unicorn(s), against the advice of the elves.

Unicorns were always the most selfless of the Xadian beings. There came a time when, filled with pity, they desperately wanted to help the struggling humans. After all, it was not the humans' choice to have been born without magic. But the First Elves were wary. They warned the unicorns that kindness was not always returned with kindness; it would be a mistake to trust the species. After all, if humans were supposed to use magic, they would have been born with it.

— Book One: Moon

One heart took pity on the plight of humanity. A unicorn, unique among her own rare kind, saw the strength and ingenuity of the human spirit where others saw weakness and beastly ignorance. Her name was Leola. While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, she gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells.

— Tales of Xadia

What's interesting is how inaccurate both of these stories have turned out to be. We also don't even actually know whose stories these are. By the time of the series events, it's no longer even remembered that humans had primal magic, aside from primal stones. It's a truth forgotten on the human side, and either similarly forgotten or deliberately suppressed in Xadia. Despite the brightest, most constant star in the sky still retaining the name "Leola's Last Wish," neither Callum nor Rayla know who Leola was.

Ripples obliquely acknowledges the vagueness and changing nature of these stories, opening with:

Like all the oldest tales, time has bent its shape and blurred its color. It is a fable whispered on some tongues and shouted on others. While one may say it ends with a sunrise, another will insist it ends at nightfall.

— Ripples

So rather than directly telling the story of humanity's acquisition of primal magic, Ripples deals with the aftermath. We learn that humanity had been, implicitly or explicitly, forbidden primal magic, and in the wake of them receiving it, a star fell.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.

— Ripples

The story told in Ripples turns out to be the most accurate, based on what we have learned from s6. Humans acquired primal magic, and a star was cast from the sky. (A tiny star, if you want extra emotions.) It makes no mention of how humans learned primal magic, only that they did, and—unlike the other stories, where the elves caution against giving magic to humans but take no other action—the are hunted by monsters for it.

Elarion, fading bloom, afraid to wilt and dim and die, she searched the dark for but a spark and caught the dragons’ hungry eye.

— Midnight Star

Hmmmm.

The Order of the Stars

One of the main things, possibly the main thing, we learned from s6 is that we were given a glimpse of the stars as the god-like authorities that have been hinted at in a lot of Aaravos-related side content. It's not a good look. (It never was.)

It tells us succinctly why primal magic was forbidden to humans: in the timeless gaze of the stars, humans acquiring magic dooms the universe.

(Of course, it is the attempt at averting prophesied doom that actually brings it to pass, but that's just standard stuff. For all their omniscience, the stars apparently still lack genre-awareness.)

This "cosmic order" is likely what the stars have built that Aaravos seeks to destroy:

I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand.

— Ripples

And when everything they have built lies shattered, I will savor their fall from the sky.

— Patience

Snitches Get Stitches, Even Dragons

The other major curve ball s6 has thrown into the story as we understood it is the involvement of the archdragons, Sol Regem in particular. According to Aaravos, the testimony of a young Sol Regem is the only evidence against Leola.

At the time, Aaravos seems to take this at face value, and argues that anything Leola may have done was out of love for humans and the world, not defiance of the cosmic order. Maybe this is because Sol Regem/Anak Arao is an archdragon of the Sun, the primal source known for the light of truth.

I, however, have to wonder if he was lying. Taking a look at Ripples, again:

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain.

— Ripples

Apparently, the first primal source humans accessed was the Sun. It could just be that Anak Arao was a rules-obsessed hall monitor and... but what if it wasn't Leola who gave humans that secret? We don't even see Leola doing any magic of the kind she's credited with giving humans—no runes, no spells of any specific primal. If someone did teach humans the runes and Draconic words for primal magic, it seems unlikely to have been her.

But as heir to some kind of position of authority, could it have been partially Anak Arao's responsibility to keep his primal source out of human hands? Was it maybe stolen out from under his nose, and he sought to shift the punishment away from himself? (And boy, would it sure be a real uno-reverse to have this story loop all the way back around to a literal theft of fire for humanity.) Or could it have been lost/given to humans by someone he wanted to protect from the same cosmic justice?

Hmmmm.

There have been hints about a larger human/dragon conflict in the past, most notably the Midnight Star poem. In a hiatus-era interview, Aaron Ehasz describes an early version of the setting as being essentially humans/unicorns vs. dragons/elves. The low-key emphasis on humans and dragons in opposition that we get from some of these materials is a) interestingly not mentioned in either of the "unicorns gave primal magic to humans" stories, and b) not actually what we see as the primary conflict in the setting, outside of Sol Regem's personal grudge.

It gets especially weird because, like... there's no reason to think all the other archdragons we're aware of (except Zym) weren't there, too. Sol Regem is cast as a bit older, but not "of an entirely different generation from the other archdragons"-older. So like, you'd think Zubeia would remember, at minimum, that primal magic was forbidden to humans by the cosmic order. Maybe, given the implied departure/loss of interest by the stars, no one cares anymore? Maybe dark magic was considered a much more serious issue, as far as perversions of the natural order are concerned. Or I guess it's possible that there was some special relationship between the stars and the line of the archdragon Sun King, and the other archdragons weren't privy to the machinations going on in the heavens.

Basically, there's been a big new mystery introduced as to the geopolitics of Xadia and the heavens in the distant past, in addition to Aaravos's personal relationships with all the archdragons.

Book and Key

So overall, I don't actually know what to make of this:

But I have a couple wild theories to put forth.

First of all, Aaravos has been referred to as "archmage of all six primal sources," and this is reflected in the pre-s6 promo art series featuring the book and key.

But, interestingly, we also see in s6 that in order to truly commune with the heavens, the Celestial elves have to remove themselves from the influence of the other primal sources, specifically the Sun and Moon.

So, as powerful as they are, I think maybe Startouch elves don't have automatic access to the other primal sources. Maybe not even the magic of the Star primal, as it exists harnessed by rune spells. The book is probably how Aaravos himself built connections to primal magic while in Xadia.

(This would mean that the reason it was at all believable for Leola to give the secrets of primal magic to humans is because Aaravos was exploring those secrets—something it could be that the stars resented?)

Anyway this could also connect up with any number of wild theories about the nature of primal magic or primal elves, though we see a Moonshadow elf among Leola's friends so it seems primal elves are already present at this point. Being me, if Aaravos and Leola's home was actually in what is now Duren, I at least personally want to believe that he was seeding the frontier with magic.

Anyway, as always: some answers, and even more questions. Catch y'all later when the post-release interviews and Q&As inevitably make everything even weirder.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Wally hadn't been able to make sense of what you'd said. How had it been possible that he and the others had been trapped for so long without knowing it? With that truth out for him to examine, Wally hadn't been sure he'd wanted to look any closer. He'd felt violated. Betrayed. Lost. What other lies had he been unwittingly a part of?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.14

The world fell away as your words penetrated. Wally stilled, didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't make a sound. As if he could delay the impact of that truth if he shut down critical functions.

Weakly, "What do you...mean?" Wally croaked, but something deep within himself had always known.

Known it like common sense; the feeling like looking at a green sky and knowing it was supposed to be blue. Like being sick since birth yet knowing that that wasn't what healthy felt like. He'd known and yet never questioned it because he and the others had had no way to be sure their situation was terribly, tragically wrong.

In the earliest days succeeding his untimely demise, Wally had tried to leave the school.

Not to follow his mother home after she'd donated his trophies, helmet, and jacket to display in the stadium entrance. Not to join his friends in Rodney's basement to get stoned after his memorial service. Not to break his own heart by stalking Jenny to the motel where she and her second choice prom date, Gary fucking Reid, lost their virginities together.

Rather, to go for a walk for the sake of getting some air. Despite having been flung back to the field multiple times by then—a lesson that had drilled into him the habit of remaining perpetually vigilant of his surroundings—Wally had had this intrinsic understanding that he could roam beyond what the barrier permitted.

So much so that, one evening, he hadn't kept track of where he'd been going (partly because he'd trusted himself to veer away from the perimeter, but mostly because he'd been relaxed. Not actively chasing down a loved one). It'd been an unconscious series of actions; one foot in front of the other, listening to Eddie Money's Can't Hold Back on a Lost & Found walkman, strolling into the thin smattering of trees on the edge of the grounds, and then wham—

Back to Start.

It had happened a few times after that, too. Rhonda would cackle around her lollipop du jour, roll her eyes, and tell him to, "Get smart, Jockstrap."

When Charley had come along, he'd experienced the same thing. And then Ajay and Katelynn. Learning the lesson after the lesson had been learned. Mr. Martin had calmly and wisely informed them that it was merely the result of not having internalized being dead yet.

But that hadn't sat right with Wally, similar to having been given the excuse of roughhousing when he'd caught his parents in a compromising position one innocuous summer-break afternoon before he'd aged into double digits.

"Babe..." Wally croaked, just above a whisper, the weight of what you'd unveiled slamming into his chest and leaving him winded, "What are you saying?"

Your eyes, marbled and bright—though not outright glowing like they had in the theater—stared right into him for a moment. You were obviously calculating what it meant that Wally couldn't leave the high school, all the hows and whys flittering like dust motes between you and him.

"Unless you're a residual haunter, like Mina or Yuri, you should be able to go wherever you want. How long have you been stuck?"

Wally's throat clicked when he swallowed, "Since I died."

You pressed your forehead to his, hands slotting under his jaw, and, voice laced with grief, said, "That's not possible."

"I mean, maybe it is?" Wally tried to reason, slumping back in his seat and staring at the 5-yard line as he stitched together his own theories based on what he'd learned as an actual dead person. "It's not like ghosts wrote those books you read. Maybe whoever wrote them got it wrong."

Shaking your head, "Actually, they did. Not the physical copies, obviously, but those authors collaborated with ghosts to write those books."

Wally didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if he could answer a lot of things anymore. Did he even know what it meant to be dead?

You seemed willing wait him out as he turned everything over in his head, one hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the one he'd had on your calf so you could string his arm through your legs and cradle his hand on your belly, your thumb rubbing soothing patterns between the bones.

"What does it mean?" He asked, distant.

Wally could feel himself slipping away, the revelation frosting him from the inside and making him numb. He'd had a similar experience when he'd been fourteen and had broken his collarbone. The pain so intense that his brain had immediately severed its connection to the feeling.

Shock.

"It means that something doesn't want you to leave." You answered once he'd returned his eyes to yours. Your features creased, "Or someone."

Wally felt that statement like a nail through the chest. "How?"

You stared at him helplessly, caressing his cheek and then tilting forward to press your foreheads together again. The action worked to ground Wally, reeled him back from the edge of an existential crisis he wasn't ready to have.

Regretfully, "I don't know, Wally. But we'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded against you. Closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of your nearness, the solidity of your touch. Allowed those things to calm him.

"At least we can rule out Mr. A having anything to do with that, right?" Wally snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You pulled back, smiled gently, and nodded, "Right. But he could've used it to his advantage. With her soul stuck here, Maddie wouldn't be able to get back into her body and then go to the police. It also means that he could've safely stashed her body anywhere, so long as he has access to life support."

"You think he dropped her at the hospital?"

"Not here." You said, "Split River isn't big enough to pull that off. He could've driven her to another state? Dropped her off at a big city hospital as a Jane Doe?"

Wally grimaced, shaking his head at the depravity, "That's messed up."

"God, her body could be in Detroit for all we know and it wouldn't get back here until someone in the hospital there made the connection. Unless Sheriff Baxter decides to widen the search."

"Couldn't you ask him? It's like you said, Xavier's your brother from another mother. Wouldn't the sheriff listen to you?"

You didn't seem convinced, reciting in a satire of an upbeat tone, "Hey Sheriff, I think my teacher knocked Maddie out of her body and took it to another state all so she wouldn't tell you about the money he's hiding in his classroom. We should totally look into that."

Wally responded in a responsible manner, "That sounds like an awful idea, let's not do that."

Curling against the back of your seat, voice slightly strangled, you uttered, "So, Maddie's stuck in an In Between 'til I can find her body and bring it back to her."

Wally sensed the granite mass of the pressure you were already putting on yourself. Choosing to steer you out from under it, he diverted the conversation, "Still haven't told me what an In Between is, by the way."

It did the trick, at least for the time being. Your lips quirked up at the corners and the wrinkle between your brows vanished as you informed him, "It's exactly what it sounds like. A plain between plains."

"Yeah, pretty thing, you're going to have to dumb it down more." Wally said, willing to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of making you smile.

Grinning, you set the stage, "Think of plains like different worlds. I'm in the living world, you're in the dead world, right?"

"Got it."

"Now, pretend there are doorways into those worlds. In Betweens are the spaces between the doors." You nibbled your bottom lip and Wally's attention immediately slipped, the urge to lick into your mouth making him twitch. Sweetly unaware, you back-tracked and tried a different avenue, "Not doors...maybe glass walls?"

"The door thing made sense. I mean, I think I get it. In Betweens are those places that anyone can access, whereas the living world is just for the living and the dead world is just for the dead. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you got it." You praised and Wally had to stifle the desire to puff out his chest and preen. "Well, not anyone can access In Betweens, but if your soul can Travel, that's where you go."

"So, when you project, you're in an In Between." Wally stated, though he was hedging for clarification.

"Exactly."

"And you said Maddie's stuck in an In Between, too, right?"

Wally saw the moment you clocked where he was going with that train of thought.

With a lamenting sigh, you said, "Unfortunately, In Betweens are complex. They're unique to all kinds of things like bloodlines and soul-ties—" Wally opened his mouth to ask, but you got there first, "—incredibly deep bonds you make in life with another person." He closed his mouth and listened as you elaborated. "So, me and my great-aunt enter the same In Between and can see each other. But Maddie..."

"Isn't blood?"

"And she and I weren't close enough to form the type of bond you'd need to Travel the same In Between. Either she'd have had to invite me into hers or I'd have had to invite her into mine. It's extremely intimate. Not something you do with someone you only hang out with in a group." You perked up and finally gave Wally a full, supernova smile. "I actually wrote you some notes."

The implication conjured an image of you scribbling notes for him under light cast from a laptop screen, kicking your feet as you lay on your bed like a schoolgirl. All so that he could understand the twisty, twiddly secrets of the universe...

He swooned, barely holding back a wistful exhale.

And then his brain ticked back a few frames to you on an unmade bed. The collar of the oversized t-shirt Wally hoped you owned bearing one shoulder, and the smooth skin of your legs on display.

He couldn't care less about the state of his deadness now, and what it meant that he couldn't leave the school grounds. Instead, he let a slow, devilish smirk slant across his mouth, emboldened by hormones and how receptive you were as he leaned into your space.

He slid his hand from yours and placed it on your thigh, "Gonna let me copy your homework, baby?"

"Gotta get those grades up before the big game." You played along, "Don't want you kicked off the team."

Without hesitation, Wally struck, halfway out of his seat, hand gripping the armrest behind you to hold himself up. He loomed over you, little thing that you were, squished into your seat and completely caged in by him. He hovered, heard your breath hitch, and watched your gaze go hazy.

"Lucky to have a girl like you on my side, then, huh?" Wally said, voice rough, tightly controlled, closing the distance between your lips in increments.

You reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, "Damn right, big shot," and dipped in.

A throat cleared somewhere over Wally's shoulder, from behind and moderately above, and drove him back into his seat at Mach speed, his hold on you resituating to a socially acceptable place on your ankle. The interruption was accompanied by that arcing of gravity that emitted from a living body which meant Wally was once more on the outside looking in.

"Okay there, hot shot, time to get moving. Students aren't s'posed to be up here outside'a game time." The maintenance worker said, illicit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Wally noticed the man wasn't quite looking at you, and, for the first time, he had to wonder what the hell people saw when you and he were together while you were still in your body.

You pulled yourself up as fast as the angle allowed you to without injury, foot still tucked in Wally's lap. As soon as your head peeked above the back of your seat, the maintenance worker clutched a hand to his heart and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"Jesus, girl, you can't do that to folks." He scolded you, southern accent thickening, "Lookin' like a zombie comin' out the grave or what."

"Sorry," You said and sounded as puzzled as Wally was by the man's overreaction.

"Just hurry up and get goin'." His eyes swept in a strange pattern, away from you then back then away, fixing on a point that would have been Wally's nose if he weren't invisible. "You kids these days thinking you can be wherever you wanna be, huh? Ignoring the rules, like they don't apply to you..."

God, this guy. "Can it, asshole. Give her a minute to get up." Wally snapped, bolstered by the fact that the man couldn't hear him. "Bet you're bent outta shape because all that nicotine makes your dick about as useful as a wet napkin."

He heard you choke on a laugh that you quickly masked under a cough.

The man squinted, lips pursed in aggravation. Surprisingly, he departed with no more than a gruff, "Get gone!" and stuck his half-burned cigarette back into his mouth.

Wally glared after him as the man marched up the stairs toward a ladder open beneath a curtain of cables and metal that spilled from the ceiling. Clearly, the man had been in the middle of fixing something when he'd seen you.

"Fucker." Wally grumbled. He patted your leg, pressed a kiss to your knee before he released you.

"I appreciated the support," You giggled, "Even if it doesn't do much on my side of things, it's nice to know you have my back."

"I've always got you, baby." Wally vowed as he unfolded himself and rose to his feet. He couldn't help tacking on, "Every bit of you," with a wink that made you pink up so prettily.

You wetted your lips, ducked your face into your shoulder; shy after you'd been caught in what might’ve been a very awkward position. "I'm starting to get that."

Wally let you take the lead, enjoyed how you brushed up against him as you shuffled out of the row and onto the stairs. He shot the man one last angry look as he grabbed his jacket and then turned to trail you across the field and out of the stadium.

At the top of the grandstand, feet from the ladder, the man examined his cigarette through a profoundly glum expression.

With a grunt, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his work boot, simultaneously pulling the crumpled, two-from-empty pack out of his breast pocket and whipping it into a nearby trashcan.

💀___________________________

PART THIRTEEN - PART FIFTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[charmingly-helpless]

let's go home

A/N: heyyy... it's been a while (two years) since i've written something. life just got busy, but i hope you're all doing well. anyway, i've been rewatching criminal minds and got inspired to write this. i hope you like it!

pairing: season 6 Emily Prentiss x fem!Y/N

warnings: angst, toxic relationship, control issues, trust issues, canon character death, grief, (but everything is okay in the end)

word count: 2517

Read on AO3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"Where have you been?"

You dropped your bag to the floor and shrugged off your jacket, hanging it up.

"Out. How was work?"

Emily ignored your question, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall, watching you with curious eyes.

"Out with who?"

"No one, Em. Am I not allowed to leave this apartment?" You sighed.

"You never just leave without telling me where you're going or who you're with, don't give me an attitude."

You roll your eyes, heading to the bedroom. Emily stopped you.

"You're not going to bed without telling me where you've been."

"Why does it matter? You've been at work. I just wanted to get some fresh air," you threw your hands up in slight frustration. "You leave every morning, and I don't question you. Why can't I do the same?"

"Because I don't trust you!" Emily raised her voice. She blocked off your path, glaring at you.

You narrowed your eyes, steeling your composure to not show that her words had hurt you.

"Why not? I'm your girlfriend."

"And that means I should trust you just because we are dating? You've given me plenty of reasons not to trust you."

"Like what?"

Emily placed her hands on her hips, standing up straighter. "You've been secretive, you're too friendly with other women, you're always on your phone, you hide things from me."

Rage bubbled inside your chest. "Do you think you're a saint, Emily? You are no different from me. How many times have I tried to ask you about your day, just for you to shut down? How many times have I been tossed aside while you prioritize your work? How many hours have I spent waiting for you to come home, worrying that you were shot dead when you'd really just fallen asleep at your desk?"

Emily flinched, surprised by seeing you so angry, and how true your words were.

"Y/N, that's different. i'm just... busy all the time, or have classified information..."

You felt tears sting in your eyes.

"I can't do this anymore," you whisper.

Emily froze in place at your words, watching you grab a duffle bag from the hallway closet.

"What?"

You swiftly moved to the bedroom, feeling Emily follow behind you. You started packing a few essentials, deciding that you would come back later for more things.

"You know what."

"You're leaving?"

"I don't think you're ready to be in a serious relationship, Em. I saw the signs from the start, but I overlooked them because I liked you. But I can't put up with all the secrets, the lying, and the distrust anymore. I'm your girlfriend; I trust you more than I trust anyone in the whole world, and it hurts that you don't feel the same about me."

You wiped your tears.

Emily took a step forward, feeling a surge of panic.

"Sweetheart, listen, it's not like that... I..." she faltered, unable to think of anything that would fix this situation.

You waited for Emily to continue, but her silence was enough of an answer. You zipped up your bag and walked over to Emily, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, Em. But I can't stay here."

Emily's face briefly softened at your kiss, but her heart dropped as your departure started becoming very real.

"I-" Emily's voice cracked. "Can I talk to you? Please?"

You stopped by the door, considering your next words very carefully.

"I've given you so many chances to talk to me. If all it takes is for me to leave, then it's probably too late."

A wave of hurt crashed over Emily, even though she knew there was a truth to your words.

"I promise I'm ready to talk now."

You made the grave mistake to turn back, and one look at her sad brown eyes was convincing enough. Wordlessly, the two of you walked to the couch and sat down.

Emily took your hand, breathing a sigh of relief when you didn't pull away.

"I know I haven't been the best girlfriend over the past couple months, okay? I-I admit, I've been keeping some things from you, but you have to understand..."

"Understand what?" You voice was soft, but your tone harsh.

"Understand why I was keeping them from you, I just..." Emily sighed. "I was scared. Scared to tell you certain things."

You looked into her eyes. "Is something happening at work? Or is it something in our relationship?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Emily spoke.

"I-it's work-related, yes... and it's the reason I've been so... on edge."

"Does it have something to do with Ian Doyle?" You pieced together.

Emily froze, the name she never wanted you to know of coming out of your mouth.

"Where did you hear that?"

You sensed the anxiousness in her voice, and you knew you were treading on dangerous waters.

"I came home early one night, and I overheard you talking on the phone to someone. You sounded stressed out, I figured it had something to do with work."

Emily nodded slowly.

"I... H-how much of that did you hear?"

You shook your head, "Not much. Just a few names and details. 'Interpol', 'undercover', 'Lauren Reynolds.'"

Just hearing those words alone made Emily anxious.

"I need you to keep what you heard a secret, okay? Don't tell anyone, not even the team. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes, of course."

A wave of silence washed over the two of you. Emily fiddled with her fingers, but never took her eyes off yours.

"Emily, I don't have to worry about losing you, do I?"

Emily managed a small smile, holding your gaze for the longest time.

"No, you don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to let anything keep me away from you, Y/N. I promise."

It was like the storm clouds had finally parted, revealing a glimpse of blue skies above. For the first time in your year-long relationship, Emily had finally opened up to you about something.

You slowly moved in for a hug, giving Emily the chance to opt out if she wanted to. But she leaned into your embrace, hugging you with such intensity, as if you'd vanish if she let go of you. Emily had never been so scared to lose someone before, and she knew that she could never risk losing you ever again.

You were the first to break the silence.

"This can't happen again, Em. I need you to be honest and trust me. I value your feelings, and I don't want to lose you."

Emily nodded as you voiced her thoughts exactly.

"I know. I promise... There's, uh... one other thing I need to tell you about."

"What is it?" You pull away to look at her.

"I need to go somewhere tomorrow to deal with an issue from my Interpol days. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone..."

Emily stood up, walking over to the window and knelt down. She flipped up a floorboard, taking out a padded envelope.

"If I'm not back within a week, I want you to open this."

You took the envelope.

"What are you planning to do, Em?" your voice shook.

"It's just a precaution," Emily lied in order to not worry you. "There's a risk that comes with every mission I go on. I just want you to keep this for the future."

When you didn't reply, Emily took your hands into hers.

"I'm going to be fine."

You nodded, touching your forehead to Emily's.

"Will you stay? Come to bed with me?"

Emily's soft and vulnerable words sent an ache to your heart.

"Yeah."

The two of you settled into bed. You laid on your side, face to face with Emily. She leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead, wrapping her arms protectively around you.

"I love you, Y/N.”

"I love you, too."

Long after you dozed off, Emily remained awake. She wanted to remember how your body molded perfectly against hers, the smell of your shampoo and how your hair tickled her nose, and how her heart beat differently when she was around you. She worried about how you would hold up if something happened to her. She tried to stay as still as possible to not disturb your sleep. After what felt like hours, she let sleep overcome her as well.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The next day, you woke up to an empty bed. Emily had already left as she usually did, but this time it came with a heavy, lingering feeling. Of what, you weren't sure yet.

You sat up in bed and glanced at the alarm clock on Emily's bedside table, which told you that it was almost 12pm. You felt something on your forehead and you reached up to find it was a bright pink sticky note. You laughed, remembering how Emily used to leave notes stuck on your forehead if she woke up and left before you.

“Be home soon. I love you,” the note read in Emily’s cursive handwriting. You stuck it to the wall above your nightstand.

You had the day off from work, so you started your day of relaxation. A few hours later, a knock on the door jolted you out of your focus on a TV show you were binging. Your limbs protested as you stood up from the position you’ve been sitting in all day.

A familiar face stood behind the door.

“Andersen?”

Agent Andersen had a solemn expression on his face.

“Y/N, I regret to inform you that Agent Prentiss has been injured in the field. I’ve been sent by Agent Hotchner to bring you to the hospital.”

The world went silent as his words sunk in. This wasn’t the first time during your relationship that Emily had gotten injured, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that got easier every time.

The journey to the hospital was a blur. Before you knew it, you were in the waiting room. A heavy silence occupied the room as you and the team waited for an update.

Finally, the doors opened and you stood up, almost falling over until Rossi took your arm. With one look at JJ’s face, you knew your worst fears had come true.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

It’s been seven months since Emily died. Seven months since you attended her funeral. Seven months since you quit your job, packed your bags, and left town without telling anyone.

You’ve been living in a permanent state of anxiety and grief ever since Emily’s passing. You could barely register anything happening around you, not with the words “she never made it off the table” echoing in your mind constantly. You currently resided in New York with your friend, who was in their first year of residency and basically lived at the hospital, so you had the apartment to yourself a majority of the time.

You became vaguely aware of your phone ringing as you pulled yourself out of your daze. You were surprised and confused when the caller ID read Hotch’s name. The first month after your very sudden departure, your phone was bombarded with calls from each member of the BAU. As time passed and their calls kept going unanswered, they ceased their contact. Occasionally, you would get a few voicemails from Penelope who would update you on things happening in her life and to tell you that she missed you.

“Hi.”

“Y/N,” Hotch’s voice lifted in surprise. “I wasn’t sure if you would answer.”

You sighed.

“Well, here I am.”

“I’m…” Hotch trailed off for a second. “I’m calling because I need you to come back to Quantico.”

“Not interested.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if this wasn’t important, Y/N,” Hotch spoke quickly before you could hang up.

You thought about it for a moment.

“I’ve already sent the jet your way. JJ will meet you at the airport.”

You chuckle.

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

“I think you’ll want to be back here. Just trust me.”

The thought of reuniting with JJ and the rest of the team was tempting. You hadn’t realized how much you missed them all these months.

“Okay.”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

JJ met up with you at the airport runway, pulling you into a tight embrace that you reciprocated. The two of you caught up with each other as the jet got ready for takeoff.

JJ sat up straight, her face becoming serious but still warm.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you before we land.”

You held her gaze, sensing a hint of anxiety in her voice.

“What is it?”

Just like seven months ago in that waiting room, the world stopped spinning when you heard JJ’s words. You sat like a statue as she recounted the events, from Emily’s transfer to Paris to the team taking down Doyle at last.

When you were unresponsive for too long, JJ gently touched your hand.

“Emily is alive?” you ask for confirmation, not believing what you heard.

“Yes.”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your steps from the runway into the office were quick and frantic, even JJ had to try to keep up with you. Through the glass doors of the office, you made eye contact with Hotch.

“Emily’s alive? Where is she? Is she here?”

Hotch didn’t answer your rapid-fire questions, but he swiftly led you into his office. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you could hear each pump of blood.

The figure in the room turned around and you gasped when your eyes met brown ones that you thought you would never see again. The Emily that stood before you had small changes in her appearance, but she was still your beloved Emily.

Emily approached you slowly, as one might approach a scared puppy.

“Y/N.”

You let out a sob, diving forward and pulling Emily into your embrace. She held you, tenderly stroking your hair as you cried into her neck. Tears sprang into Emily’s eyes as she felt her heart begin to mend having you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” Emily repeated softly. “I had to keep us safe until Doyle was captured. I’m so sorry I had to leave you, and that I had to lie to you.”

You shook your head, pulling away slightly to see her face.

“You had no choice, I understand. I’m just glad you’re here. I thought I lost you for good.”

“You’ll never lose me again,” Emily wiped a tear from your cheek. “These past seven months have been hell without you. All I could think about was how rocky our relationship had been in the months before I left. I promise you that I won’t let us go back to that. It’s not going to be easy, and I have a lot of issues to work through, but I’m going to put in the work. I trust you wholeheartedly, Y/N.”

You smile at her words, feeling that things will be different this time around.

“That means a lot to me, Em.”

Emily tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your chin in her hand.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

“Let’s go home.”

[abbyromanoff]

hey babes! could i request a story based on this version of unholy (Nat's pov)? r has no idea her partner is doing something unholy and ofc, Nat knows everything so tells r. or maybe r just finds it out herself. (Nat wants r to be hers for a long time and r is actually also into Nat but she thought Nat does not like her that way stuff like that maybe) if you could also add some smut in there that would be awesome👀 thank you so much! <3

also i hope you're doing okay and taking care of yourself<3

Unholy

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x afab!reader

Word count: 1819

Warnings: smut, kinda toxic!Nat, housewife kink, pet names, cheating, kinda dubcon, praise kink, degrading kink, fingering, cumming untouched, small daddy kink (like 2-3 times), think that’s all

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

“Seriously, Y/N? Everyone knows it except you!” You stopped in your tracks, your back facing the older woman who was giving up on informing you of the truth.

“No. No, you don’t get to dictate my marriage, Nat! You don’t get to ruin us all because you feed off of it. You feed off of others' pain, I’m not letting you do that to me too.” You both were pacing and ended up in the living room. You sat on the couch, your head in your hands as you rubbed your temples. Nat hesitantly sat next to you, wrapping one arm around your back and the other grasping your knee. You tried pushing her off to no avail; she was always much stronger than you.

“Y/N, you need to listen to me-”

“And why would I do that? Look, I know about your feelings for me, you make them pretty fucking obvious, but that doesn’t give you the right to destroy my happiness just so you can have me.” She sighed, looking down at the floor as you continued to stare at her side profile. She was deathly alluring and so very seductive, but this was wrong on so many levels. You were married. Your wife would most likely be home in less than an hour and greeting you with a kiss as always.

“I need to start dinner before it’s too late. If you’d like to stay with us that’s fine, but I advise you don’t go near me anymore.” Deep down you both knew she was right. You had heard of your wife’s cheating scandals while she was on business trips or even right next door. The man, Vision, had always been close to you and Wanda, but you never thought your wife of all people, the same one who’d bring you home flowers three or more times a week, would have an affair. You trusted her, or so you thought.

Natasha was sick of your defiance and stormed after you, determined to make you believe her one way or another.

“Do not walk away from me when I was not done talking to you, Y/N.” She used your full name, you’ve never heard those words leave her mouth. You turned to look at her with a cold gaze, at least your best shot of one. Your teeth were clenched together and your fists were gripping the stove handle with a deathly hold.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do in my own house, Natasha.” She took a step forward, cornering you in between her and the cooking appliance.

“Your house? Or Wanda’s?” You looked at her with widened eyes, your hand just begging to be connected harshly with her face by now.

“Don’t go there.”

“Oh, but I think I will. You see, I think I know why you’re trying so damn hard to prove to me that I’m wrong when you know I’m right, we’re all right. You can’t live without her. She was the one who bought this house with her money, she’s the one who buys the groceries, she’s the one who pays the bills while you just set the table for her every night like a good little housewife. Is that what you are? Just a pathetic little wife to Wanda that gives her everything she wants? You’re so far gone that you refuse to accept the fact that she’s been fucking that guy for the past seven months, but you knew all along, didn’t you? But you knew you were nothing without her. I mean, you don’t even have a job, Y/N, how would you ever make it in the real world except for slutting yourself out to any businessman who wants it?” Tears threatened to escape your eyes at the harsh words, but she wasn’t exactly wrong. You didn’t have a job, you relied on your wife for all funds and she didn’t disappoint. It’s not like you didn’t want to support yourself, but Wanda had already convinced you years ago to be her perfect housewife and while you completed your job with ease, there was always that want of more. You felt like nothing without her, and you were starting to truly believe it.

“Get out.” Was all you were able to muster out. You heard a scoff as Nat shook her head before locking her eyes with you once more. You refused to stand down or show your fear, you kept your eyes in line with hers just like she was doing now.

“What?”

“I said,” You paused, gritting your teeth and leaning in so her face was nearly touching yours. “Get out of my house.” She placed her hands over your clenched ones but only received a slap on the cheek. She tumbled back a few steps before chuckling to herself.

“Fiesty, huh? That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You rolled your eyes and tried to point your attention to the pot boiling on the stove. That was until the woman came up behind you, placing her hands on your hips and her crotch against your ass. You tried paying no mind to her, you really did. But that was nearly impossible as she grinded her body against your backside. She bit her lip as the fabric of her undergarments rubbed just perfectly against her clit. Her hands traveled your body, landing on your breasts and palming the soft skin.

“Fuck, Wanda’s such a fucking idiot for letting this go.” You hated to admit it, but her touch was fascinating. You wanted more, you needed more. And her degrading words from earlier didn’t fail to leave a wetness coating your thighs. You couldn’t help but imagine this situation another way, being Nat’s housewife and having her come home to use you like this - like you were a toy. Like you were nothing but a hole for her to use when she needed it. She was wealthy, very wealthy at that. She was the CEO of a large investment company and, while she didn’t like to brag about it, you knew she had more than enough to support herself. All she needed was a sugar baby like you by her side to spoil immensely.

When you let out a small moan as she tweaked your abused nipples she slyly smirked to herself. “Awh, you’re liking this, aren’t you? You like the thrill of it? Knowing that your wife could walk through that door any second now and see her innocent little girl being used?” You shook your head, trying to come up with a reply until you were interrupted by a gasp leaving your lips. You were so lost in the feeling that you hadn’t even noticed one of Nat’s hands moving down your stomach and into the waistline of your panties. She teased the band of your undergarment by pulling it back and letting it slap your skin. You bucked your hips at the sudden shock. She continued her voyage, slipping her fingers into your panties and grinning when she felt your wetness coating her fingers.

“Nat, stop it.”

“Hm, I don’t think that’s true, love. You tell me you want me to stop, but the way you’re grinding on me tells me otherwise.” You hadn’t even noticed how you had started mindlessly rubbing yourself onto her. Her fingers would just graze against your clit and cause chills to run down your spine. You attempted to stop yourself, but your body was moving on its own.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on daddy’s fingers.” You moaned at the title she gave herself and did as she asked, letting yourself succumb to the pleasure of her digits on you.

“Tell me how it feels, baby girl.” She placed her head on your shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume that had her addicted from the beginning.

“It- it feels good, really fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned your back into her front, grasping her arm and holding onto her for dear life. You could feel her muscles tightening beneath you, only being able to picture how she must’ve looked completely bare, all of her muscles shining and on display. Her fingers teased around your hole before she eased two of her digits inside of you, the feeling still not being enough.

“Oh, fuck!” You whimpered loudly, quickly being shushed by the redhead behind you.

“Shh, sweetheart, I don’t want anyone but me hearing these perfect melodies.” Her lips pressed against your neck, leaving a small trail of her red-stained lipstick before she connected them with your own, one of your hands grasping the side of her face and pulling her impossibly closer.

“Please, daddy, please fuck me.” You whispered against her lips, feeling her hot breath against yours. She bit her lip before diving back in for more, requesting access with her tongue that you soon gave her. You felt a third finger prodding at your entrance, your nearly gaping hole letting her slip in with ease.

“Look at how well you’re taking me, baby.” You looked down, still feeling her sloppy kisses against your cheek. You were restricted from seeing her thoroughly with your now ruined pants still on, but you watched as her hand moved at impossible speeds inside of you.

“Your ass looks so fucking good in these jeans. God, you’re gonna make me cum already.” She could feel her stomach tightening and the coil becoming unbearable. You were the same, being so close to the edge that the orgasm you were so desperately chasing was the only thing on your mind besides the beautiful woman giving you it.

“I want you to cum with me, Y/N. Make a mess of me, darling.” You threw your head back on her shoulder, her lips continuing their assault on your neck as she released, her hips creating slow yet hard thrusts against you. It was crazy how she didn’t even need to be touched to finish, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Oh, love, you’re so irresistible, you drive me mad.” She could feel your cum painting her digits and soaking your panties, knowing the only thought in your fucked-up mind was her.

“You believe me now?” She asked after moments of silence that was filled with both of your heavy breathing. You gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I always have, Nat.” The thought was saddening, to say the least, but you knew that as long as you had Nat by your side, everything would be okay.

“Well, why don’t we put on a little show for when your wife comes home then?” You both giggled, rushing to the couch after you turned off the stove. She lied below you, watching with mesmerized eyes as you removed your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your white bra.

“Why don’t you let me thank you this time?”

[celestialtarot11]

More astro notes 🤗🤍

Hey ya’ll! Grab a drink or a snack because this post is juicy 💭☕️ hope ya’ll enjoy!

I’ve noticed Sagittarius and Jupiter placements don’t often follow higher education, and in fact natives with this placement drop out. It’s as if they are meant to expand outward, and not stay shackled to a capitalist society 👏 as they should honestly. These natives work hard from a young age especially, they’re all about getting that bag. As they get older they get efficient with making money. These natives are always seeking to be efficient.

Venus in the first probably grew up around a modest family, a family that praised modesty. Depending on the aspects, the native embraces this or rejects it entirely. Venus in the 1st is here to find themselves ultimately. They are their own soulmate, and realizing this truth will help them to give to their partner/friendships 🤗 such a sweet native. But this native has the tendency to conform and fall into codependent tendencies.

Mars in the 1st…have ya’ll had leg injuries in your life? Someone I knew with this placement has a massive leg injury from work. Be careful! Mars in your chart indicates surgery/injuries. Where it falls in your chart will tell you where you’ll have injuries or surgery, and when it’ll happen.

Leo, pisces & gemini in someones big three makes for a very interesting person. Elusive, yet known. Out there yet hidden. Talking to them one on one creates pressure on this individual, because there is that feeling of wanting to run, but stay open. This native constantly battles hiding and opening up. If ya’ll don’t put down that wine glass and take off that trench coat-😤 this ain’t mission impossible. Anyway, good luck trying to get anything out of this individual 🤗 if they share to you anything, they trust you.

Libra men…please stop comparing yourself to your partners. If you’ve had a history with people looking down at you, it’s understandable why you’d continue this cycle. But if ya’ll want that commitment, that relationship, see your partner in a different light and yourself included. You can’t look at yourself the same way those people never saw you. Your partner does not want to repeat that hurt (that’s if you’re in a mutually healing relationship, not an unhealthy one) Your fears can easily distance you from your partner.

Wherever pluto aspects in the natives chart is where personal information is out in the open. For example someone I know with pluto in the 10th aspecting venus in the 4th, family often tried to separate her relationship, and was the cause of significant problems. Many people knew of the relationship and spread gossip like fire, even after the breakup people still bring him up. And it happens when it’s not even related to her, they’ll find any excuse to bring her ex up in any conversation/argument. Pluto in the 10th can signify having a relationship with the boss or coworker which eventually turns public. These natives need to be careful with where pluto aspects their planets! ✨🌀

Alternatively, Pluto in the 10th is often read as the native having an infamous career, or personal information affecting their career. While that may be true for some, look closely to the aspects and which planet its touching, and which house. Again, Pluto in the 10th touching venus in the 4th, the 4th house ruling family, that’s where a lot of the natives issues were gossiped about. Career place went by fine, only issue was putting herself out there as she liked to keep herself hidden.

Another example of Pluto bringing personal information out to the public: Pluto aspecting the natives sun. Issues with the father were widely known, because the pluto person had the father moving in and our constantly of their apartment. The father had no financial support for himself. Sun in the 3rd house trine Pluto in the 2nd, this persons travel plans were an indicator to others that they were sitting on a pile of cash. I mean, flying to these places? Damn, you must be rich. And the natives job included flying out to different locations. This caught peoples eye, and it turned into jealousy. Eventually, the native with this placement had a massive injury at work (mars 1st house) and it lead to a huge financial scare because of the debt (pluto 2nd house) . Because of the sun trine pluto aspect, everyone did not laugh at him, rather they couldn’t understand how he was still there and doing well despite the injury. Somehow to others, he was still carrying on. People put him on a pedestal shortly after the injury, and he couldn’t return to work because he knew his coworkers would constantly talk to him about the injury, and want to know every detail. In a way, people idolized his bravery and strength. So again, look to your pluto placement, aspects, other planets, houses everything! 😤

Thank ya’ll so much for reading 💗☺️ hope this was informative and cool! Please feel free to reblog, comment and like!

Book a reading with me here 🤍

[kohabielnin]

Truth & Inference headcanons working together

It's been a while since I wanted to put down on paper all the knowledge I have about the Truth & Inference universe, so… here it is

D.M/Désire Mélodis

• As a famous nobleman and art teacher, in front of others he treats you well and pleasantly, not so much when behind closed doors,

• He often sends you on missions with Noir or simply to come if Gatto is okay,

• Even though it doesn't seem like much, he actually cares about you, always teasing you and things like that,

• If you stay in the same environment as him, Noir and Tuberose, the only one who will defend you will be Noir because both Tuberose and D.M will provoke you,

• D.M is like a devil in human skin, but anyway he thinks you are a very important person in his life and will take care of you,

• He often likes to show you off as his, even though you are just an employee at his service, he is very proud of the little mouse he has in his hands

Gatto/Aesop Carl

• Gatto is by no means a person who enjoys company other than four-legged furry ones, but after so long he has learned not to care so much about you,

• Cat and the other kitties seem to just love you, so it makes Gatto feel a little better around you,

• Both you and him share the fear of being left alone with Tuberose,

• As you have a degree in chemistry, he usually asks for your help when he has some difficulty in an experiment,

• Usually trusts you to make his coffee and look after Cat while he's away,

• You are the only person he trusts to tell you that he has been leaking information about D.M to Sir Inference and you don't really care about it, but you still promised to keep it secret from the others for the safety of the Silent Rebel

Tuberose/Jack

• As soon as D.M told him that you would be his partner, be sure he held back a lot until the day he could have your confidence to tease you,

• Generally he likes to talk about Lady Rosemary and you can be sure that this conversation only ends when you end up sleeping,

• Even though he is an idiotic provocateur, he is very kind when he wants to be,

• As I said, he has his moments of kindness, presenting you with flowers, but then he goes back to teasing you again if he sees your face flushed,

• Pray you never have him and D.M in the same room, they both love to tease you,

• We all know that Tuberose is a hot man, and he clearly knows that so the normal tease he uses on you is just how you look at his six-pack on display.

Noir/Saphir Mélodis

• You and him always worked together because you both wanted to, not at D.M's request,

• Since you've known each other since you were children, it's as if you two can read each other's minds and that helps a lot when it comes to getting your hands dirty,

• It's not just him who has a certain affection for you, Leon your falcon also likes you a lot and likes to receive affection from you,

• D.M lets the two of you stay together because he says Noir is happy in his company and performs great on missions when he's by his side,

• Of course, not everything is a bed of roses, after all, there isn't a day that goes by that Tuberose doesn't tease you because of his childhood relationship with Noir,

• In the same way that Tuberose provokes you, Noir always appears at the right times to save you, of course, not before giving beautiful answers to Tuberose

Lady Truth/Emma Woods

• You, her and Mr. Inferece met at the orphanage and have been together ever since.

• She is very affectionate and dedicated to her two childhood friends, so there won't be a day that goes by that you are sad that she doesn't try to make a smile appear on your face,

• Unlike Mr. Inference, she is not as serious and is more relaxed, trying her best to make the agency's atmosphere light,

• She loves to surprise you with her favorite snack at least one day a week, it only changes when it's your birthday week which is every day and on your birthday she throws a surprise party for you,

• When it comes to investigations, she relies heavily on her deductive potential, so while she looks for clues, she usually lets you come up with the line of reasoning to solve the case,

• Once a month she changes the flowers in the vase on her table, always to her favorite flowers.

Mr. Inference/Naib Subedar

• He always saw you as a little brother/sister,

• Even with his serious demeanor, he cares a lot about you and often asks if you're okay,

• When the two of you are alone, he often shares his concerns about D.M.

• Usually you, him and Lady Truth go to events as guests and you can be sure that you are the only person who can calm him down when they meet D.M,

• D.M, in turn, really likes to provoke the detective and you, which clearly doesn't come very cheaply to the count,

• As your relationship with him is long-standing, you understand each other without needing words and he also trusts your deduction a lot.

White/Saphir Mélodis

• He is always extremely affectionate with you,

• You two haven't known each other long, but you feel like you've known each other for a long time,

• His owl also loves to sit on his shoulder and receive affection,

• He usually sleeps at work, according to him it's a nap to work better, but he usually keeps muttering things like "I really like your company" and things like that while he calls your name in his sleep,

• On his days off he loves going out with you to a park and being able to sleep under a tree on your lap, according to him it's a moment of peace for him,

• There's no denying that he's extremely cute, and sometimes he uses that to his advantage to get your attention.

[radiant-reid]

Worry-Free

a/n: the dialogue is from both JJ/Spencer scenes in 13x22 (i did cut some out because i'm lazy) and we're pretending 14x01 never happens and everyone just goes to Rossi's for a party once they get the messiah. sorry not sorry, i want happy spencer

request: JJ comes up to Reid and says “you’ve been keeping secrets again, tell me everything’s okay”. Could you do something with that but it’s just that he’s been seeing you?

Summary: After the issues of Spencer’s past year, JJ is worried for him, until she finds out an incredibly interesting piece of information

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warnings: it’s spicy for a second

Word Count: 3.2k

JJ's concern peaks after Spencer fills everyone else in on the case he'd been secretly working on and when she finds it's where he was when he told her he had something to do and couldn't see his godsons.

She has good reason to be worried, too, because the last time something like that happened, he was purposefully ambiguous about where he was, not a week later she found herself sifting through the drawers of his desk, trying to figure out what he was thinking while Rossi, Emily, and Luke flew down to Mexico to see him high out of his mind and in custody.

She's worried enough to know she won't be able to focus on the case if she doesn't speak to him, so she dashes out of the room to get him alone.

"Hey." JJ gets his attention just as he walks out of the glass doors, and he turns to look at her, slowing up his pace as he keeps walking to the interrogation room. "Tell me not to worry." She implores.

"About what?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the unease in his friend's voice.

She raises her eyebrows, giving him a second to work it out himself. "You got an email?" She questions like she had a few minutes ago when she reminded him that he hates email. "Okay, maybe I'll buy that. Maybe..."

The next few questions she asks about the case are much easier to explain than the email he suddenly acquired, which he's not going to tell her he needed to book a hotel.

Her questions change direction from being about the job to about him. "You're keeping secrets, okay?" She reminds him, focusing back on the point. "And when you keep secrets, I get nervous because the last time-"

Spencer cuts her off so she doesn't have to say it, turning around to look at her. "I went to prison for a murder that I didn't commit." He fills in flatly. It felt odd that it was just a fact now, void of a burdensome amount of emotion, but it was nice. He finally felt like he wasn't in panic mode.

"Yeah." She agrees. "So...tell me not to worry." She implores again, bracing herself for some bad news, but hoping he would say something to put her mind at ease.

Spencer tackles the questions about Owen Quinn first because it does feel better telling the truth, even if he's only going to lie about something positive.

"...Now you know everything." He finishes.

His eye contact is good, he's not slouching or shifting his weight on his feet, and his hands are steady. He even nods, but JJ has known him for over a decade: she knows when something's wrong.

And, lately, she had learned to voice those questions if she wanted to prevent bad things from happening.

"Everything?" She confirms, giving him another chance to come clean.

He nods again, doing his very best to convince her. It feels wrong, and he feels terrible for betraying the trust he was gaining back, but now is not the time. "Everything." He assures her.

She believes him, figuring she was just being paranoid. "Alright."

So they go about working on the case, uncovering the facts, putting together the puzzle pieces, forming hypotheses, and as a result, saving future victims from a cult.

~

Spencer sets the alarm bells off in her head again when the case is over, and Rossi invites everyone over. Bars are a 65/35 social event for him, leaning in favor of going just to spend relaxed time with the team, but Rossi's was almost always a yes. He's only turned an offer like that down once, back when he was being mysterious about his whereabouts like he was right now.

Part of her feels like she shouldn't pry, but she can't help remembering the guilt she felt every moment he was in prison because she knew, deep down, that something was different, and she has the same feeling now.

"Tell me not to worry." She says, feeling like a stuck record, playing the same tune over and over with her need for reassurance.

"Don't." He assures her, shaking his head, mirroring the movement he made when he told her the same thing earlier. "I'm good. I'm really good."

Spencer cringes as the words leave his mouth. It sounds like an oversell and he knows she's going to pry. He would if their roles were reversed.

Maybe it's unfair because he's overtired and therefore letting his well-guarded secrets slip, and because it's against the team rules, but she profiles him.

He distracts her thoughts with a hug. Granted, it's a hug he wanted to give her followed by thanks she more than deserves, but it's allowed to serve more than one purpose.

That's what he tells himself anyway.

It's when his phone chimes with a text message while he turns back to his desk to pack up his things that he's sure she's going to try again with questions.

JJ doesn't. Well, not with questions about what's on his mind since she has those answers.

Answers that came quickly when she recalls the body language of a Spencer Reid that's in love.

Instead, she asks one. "Who is she?"

Spencer stops what he's doing for a moment too long, and he desperately tries to cover his shock up as confusion, plastering on a frown. "What?" His voice betrays him, an octave too high for anything he says to be convincing.

"Or he?" She amends, holding up her hands to guarantee she's not judging.

"Her name is Y/n." He says in just a whisper, although it's quiet enough to be properly heard by her since they're the only two left in the bullpen.

"Y/n," JJ repeats playfully, and he can hear the smirk in her voice without looking at her.

He raises his eyes to look at her, shaking his head while grinning stupidly. "Jennifer." He tries to sound firm and scold her, but his face betrays him when he hears her name.

"No, no." She shakes her head, sitting on the edge of her desk. She looks like a kid having to wait for her Christmas presents even though she can see the big pile under the tree. "Please keep going."

"I'm going home." Spencer resolves, putting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

His cheeks are tinged red, he's avoiding eye contact, and she's so grateful she uncovered a secret that's not life-endangering. "No, wait, come to Rossi's. Bring her to Rossi's." He doesn't look convinced. "Pretty please. We want to meet the girl Spencer Reid is in love with." He still shakes his head, so she resorts to a threat. "Penelope will kill you if I tell her you're keeping a secret this important."

Spencer weighs the pros and cons, but he's more concerned about Y/n, who needs a say in the matter too. He also, ideally, would have more time to prep her.

"I'll call her." He decides. "No promises... and you're not allowed to tell her I love her. She still doesn't know."

"Okay, I'll go distract Pen, but I better come back to an answer." She warns, pointing a finger at him as a faux threat.

He has no choice then. He should have known JJ wouldn't let it go. It did seem like she'd given him the final push, and he didn't push back because it seemed like time.

"Hey, baby." He says into the phone, a dopey smile still on his face.

"Hey." She replies, swinging her feet off the arm of the couch and sitting up straight. "Finished your case?"

"It went well." He informs her, fingers silently dancing on the top of his desk nervously.

Y/n could tell there was something he was holding back. "What's going on?" She asks cautiously.

Spencer takes a deep breath before blurting it out. "JJ sort of found out about you, and now she's making me call you to ask if you want to come to Rossi's party tonight." He explains.

"Are you going to?" She asks with a little smirk. She explains when he doesn't reply, figuring he was frowning. "Ask me."

"We really don't have to go." He assures her, kind of in favor of a night on the couch together with takeout.

"Spencer, don't be obstinate." She scolds playfully. "Ask me."

He sighs loudly, knowing there's no way he can convince her not to go. "I think you're the one being obstinate." He's only joking, but before she can make a retort, he obliges her request. "Would you like to come to a party with me at Rossi's?"

"You had me at baby." She jokes, accepting the invitation. "I'd love to." The self-doubt hits her when he doesn't reply enthusiastically. Actually, he doesn't reply at all. "Do you think it's a bad idea?"

Spencer's sigh worries her. "No. I mean, I want you to meet them. I just..."

"I promise to be on my best behavior and exceedingly charming." She swears, still teasing him.

"I know, and they'll love you. They can just be...a lot." He warns her, and he loves the team, dearly, but would they really be a family if they didn't annoy their little brother sometimes. "And I spend almost all of my life with them."

"Nope. We're going." She decides, adding to her resolution before he can argue. "We've got to do it at some point unless you want me to be your dirty little secret forever."

She's teasing him, giggling at the end of her sentence, but he takes it too seriously. "You know I don't think about you like that."

"I know, I'm joking." She reminds him. Neither of them said anything for a moment. "Okay, so you can pick me up soon. Bye."

The phone hangs up, but he continues talking anyway. "Yeah, bye."

JJ is there a second after he's put his phone away, and she's grinning, clearly hoping for one specific answer. "So?"

"Yes." He nods.

"Oh, you're coming?" Penelope asks, rushing in.

"Yeah, I just have to go to my apartment and...pick up a, uh, book, a book Rossi wanted to borrow." He lies because he knows if he told her the truth, they would never get out of the building due to her bombardment of questions.

Y/n's just finishing getting ready when he knocks on her door. "What do you think?" She asks, motioning to her navy blue silk dress. It's been waiting in the back of her closet for a while and now it was going to have its moment.

Spencer doesn't verbally answer. He just presses his body against hers, cups her cheek, and pushes his lips to hers strongly, forcing her to step back into her apartment as he slams to door shut behind him. She quickly reacts, kissing him back.

She barely has time to kiss him before he's trying to sneak his tongue past her lips. She giggles and tilts her chin up, breaking the kiss. Spencer's lips immediately attach to her neck as he pulls her hips against his, and she knows what he's doing.

"Spencer Walter Reid." She singsongs as his lips get more aggressive against her skin. When that doesn't do anything but get him humming against her, she pulls his head back by his brown curls. "You wouldn't be trying to seduce me so we don't have to go to dinner, would you?"

"Can't help it when you look so fucking good in this dress." He mumbles, right against the shell of her ear, sending chills down her spine. His hand wraps around her thigh at where the slit of the dress sharts and he moves it up, bunching the fabric up. "Could just fuck you against the wall in this."

He's really trying, and on any other day, like a regular date between them, she would let him, but it's not. "You're such a whore." She jokes, tightening her grip on his hair, so he can't keep kissing her skin. She's not going to admit it, but it will always work on her. "If you behave, I'll let you do that thing to me when we get back." She assures him.

His eyes widen at what she's referencing. "Are you bribing me?" He asks, feigning surprise.

"No, I'm offering you a reward in the near future if you can behave." She rephrases.

"Deal." He agrees, holding out his pinky finger to lock hers since he figured it was more romantic than shaking her hand like they were doing business.

She obliges before fixing his hair. "Let's go then." Spencer offers her a hand while she steps into her shoes. "Thanks, handsome." She grins, grabbing her purse before leaving her apartment with him.

Spencer's already briefing her before they're at the car, stopping to open her door for her before getting in the driver's side. "And whatever embarrassing stories Emily tells you, they're not true."

"Hey." She says, placing her hand over his on the center console. His rambling is about something more than just a few blush-worthy anecdotes. "I like you. There's not a lot that can change that."

He's been forthcoming about everything, namely the fact he was in prison less than a year before they met. Y/n never cared about it. Even after everything he'd been through, he still wore his heart on his sleeve, and that's how she knew he was good.

Spencer squeezes her hand appreciatively, not needing words to express his gratitude.

Rossi's isn't much of a drive since it's after rush hour traffic. Y/n's grateful for it because her nerves started when they left her apartment, and they've only been amplifying.

She fixes her dress when she gets out of the car, tugging it down and pointlessly readjusting it. "Stop." Spencer takes her hands, holding them together in front of her body. "You look perfect."

"You've, uh, got some lipstick." She realizes, reaching up to swipe what remained of their makeout session off his lips.

He nods, licking his lips. "Thank you."

He holds her hand as they walk to the door, making sure she's okay, but his hands are the ones sweating. He looks to her, almost for approval, before knocking.

A blonde throws open the door, grinning widely. She's wearing a blue dress that perfectly compliments her eye color. "Ah, you must be the mysterious girlfriend!" She exclaims excitedly, ignoring Spencer as she pulls Y/n in for a hug. "I'm JJ."

"Y/n." She introduces herself. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too." She agrees before stepping aside. "Come in. Everyone's going to be so excited to meet you." They follow JJ through the house, and Y/n takes a minute to gawk at the luxury of it. "I didn't tell them, of course. Otherwise, there would have been competition to open the door. But they will be excited once they know who you are." She continues, wiggling her eyebrows at both of them.

Spencer scoffs at her playfully. "Are you saying I'm not interesting enough alone for you to have competition to open the door?"

JJ looks at Y/n with a smirk before answering. "Absolutely."

"I like you already." She decides, reaching out to hold Spencer's hand as they near the patio.

"It'll be chaos for a moment, but they'll love you," JJ assures her, and it is comforting, despite the fact she's never been in the situation, and she got lucky with the team knowing Will before they started dating.

Spencer pulls her closer protectively, wrapping his hand around her waist while leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "They will love you." He repeats JJ's sentiment, desperately wanting to add because I do.

JJ opens the doors with enough theatrics for everyone's attention to be on them, and they notice, expressions ranging from Rossi's raised eyebrows to Penelope's dropped jaw.

"Everyone, this is Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is everyone." He introduces them.

She doesn't get a word out before Penelope rushes around the table, engulfing her in a hug. "You're gorgeous." She exclaims, earning a laugh from Y/n and the rest of the group before she turns to Spencer. "She's gorgeous."

He nods with a laugh. "I know."

Once she's been introduced to everyone individually, Spencer gets them drinks before spending the rest of the evening glued to her side. He's never had anyone else to do that with and always longed to be the Rossis, JJs, Morgans, and Hotchs of the world, who have partners to bring to nights out, someone always by their side.

Y/n wasn't sure what she expected. He loves to touch her at home, hands always on her in some way, but she also knows he's private, as proved by her not meeting the team until now. She doesn't mind, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with demands of constant physical contact, but she's pleasantly surprised when he gives it to her, in spades.

His hand is on the small of her back when they stand around having drinks and talking with the team, then her thigh during dinner, and around her shoulder as they sit on outdoor couches around the firepit.

It's not close enough for him, though, and he drags her onto his lap, arms wrapping around her waist while he rests his chin on her shoulder. It's so easy and perfect, and he loves that it's his life. For once, he doesn't have to be envious of other people in love because he's the one in love.

He knew it before but watching her chat with his friends, easily accepted into his family, confirms it. She's had enough to drink that she's giggly and consequently, finding his jokes funny. She's charming them like she promised she would, but he had no doubt about that.

He simply feels an unexplainable warmth inside.

Penelope has had much more to drink and splits away from the group to mess with Rossi's record player, insisting on dance music, and she finds dance partners in equally drunk and definitely-going-to-regret-it JJ, Emily, Luke, Kristy, and Tara. Rossi follows them to make sure she doesn't break it, and Matt and Will go along to make sure their wives don't break an ankle.

Then it's just the two of them, and he shifts her slightly so he can look at her, their faces an inch apart. "Hey."

"Hi, handsome." She says, lazily tracing the shape of his nose with her index finger. She tips her head to the side when he doesn't reply with a predicted answer. "Are you okay?"

"I love you." He blurts out without thinking about it. Maybe he's also had a little bit too much to drink, but it isn't a confession he's going to regret when they're sitting in front of a warm fire, looking up at the pitch-black night sky. It probably couldn't have gone better if he had planned it.

Y/n feels her heart sore, tenderness filling her. "I love you, too." She says, cupping his cheek and leaning forward to kiss him, sealing the deal.

Tell me what you think

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[featherandferns]

Prompt 2 with angst

2. I blame you for this.

I lost the original ask (which was from ages ago - sorry!) but they added extra information along this line: JJ cheated by ‘accident’ and wants reader to forgive but having hard time trusting. Fluff ending, possible smut.

a mistake - prompt 2

JJ is hot on your tail as you storm into the chateau. You can’t believe he followed you back. Can’t believe he had the nerve to. No, not the nerve. The audacity. 

“Baby, come on! We can just talk about this!”

“Talk about it?” you echo. Spinning around, you can’t help but laugh humourlessly. “What the hell is there to talk about?”

JJ falters in his step. You watch as he swallows, slow and thick, and you shake your head, lips down turning into a painful, deep frown. 

“JJ. You slept with another woman.”

You’re surprised you keep yourself from gaping in shock when he raises a finger, pointing at you accusingly. 

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t say it like that! Like I cheated on you or some shit!”

Another laugh bubbles up through you. You’d never been good with shock. Some people freeze, some people cry, and some people laugh and cackle and grin. The whole situation is so absurd to you, so far from what you could ever imagine, that it doesn’t feel real. 

“You did!”

“We were on a break!”

“You think you’re getting out of this on a technicality?”

“I think it’s an important dissertation,” he loudly replies. 

You grit your teeth, eyes narrowing. “It’s distinction, and no, it is not.”

You want as much space between you as possible. He could be on another continent and it still wouldn’t be far enough. The thought of having him near you, having him talk to you- it all just makes you feel sick to your stomach. Storming into the hallway and into John B’s (thankfully empty bedroom), you go to shut the door. JJ forces it open, stronger than you. Tears begin to sting your eyes. Why can’t he just leave it alone? 

“Look, can you just try to understand things from my perspective?” JJ says, the anger morphing into desperation. 

You stare at him, lips parted. He takes your silence as cause to continue. 

“I thought you’d left me forever, and I was spinning out, and freaking, and didn’t know what to do.”

“So you fell into another girl’s bed?”

“It was a month later!” JJ snaps, throwing his arms up. “You hadn’t spoke to me for a month!”

The thing is, you and JJ had a rather dysfunctional relationship. Neither of you had very good role models growing up of what a healthy, happy romance looked like: your dad had cheated too many times to count on your mom, and JJ’s mom and dad were a nightmare before the former up and left. That meant codependency and challenge and combativity. I’m not happy if you’re not happy, and you’re never fucking happy type beats. So, you finally broke. You told him that you both needed a break and some space to think. And now it seems that whilst you were actually trying to reflect and work on yourself, JJ had been getting his yips from other chicks on the island. Beneath all the anger and rage, you were breaking inside. Since JJ admitted it after a more than bizarre interaction with some brunette at a kegger, all you can picture is her lips on his neck, and his hands on her figure, and their writhing, sweaty bodies intertwined…Your stomach is sick. 

Finally, the tears begin to fall. Your heart shatters as you let out a shaking breath. JJ’s own face crumbles with that. He closes the distance between you, grabbing for your arms and hands, refusing to back down until you relent. 

“It was a mistake. It meant nothing, okay? And I know jackasses always say that, and it’s a cheap line, and it sounds like a cop-out, but I swear on my ma’s grave that it’s true. I swear on my fucking life.”

Your lip quivers. You can’t help but look up at JJ. Darling, sweet, troubled JJ. You knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. And as you stared up at him, you knew he was telling the truth. Maybe some might say that you were being wishful, or too forgiving, or running back to a bad thing…But you’d seen JJ lie plenty of times to know when he was being honest. To you, the difference was as clear as night and day.

JJ tries to steal himself. His voice is quiet, vulnerable, prepared for rejection, when he speaks. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

“I blame you for this,” you hear yourself say. You’re not entirely sure what you by it. Blame him for cheating? For making you walk away? For making it so hard for you to say no, here and now? 

His eyes slip shut, ready for the final blow. You can see him mentally preparing to depart from your life forever. 

But no. 

No. 

Slipping your hands up, cupping his face with each palm, you lovingly stroke a finger over his damp cheek. At the tender action, JJ forces his eyes open. 

“But I don’t know who I am without you either.”

[acewritesfics]

In the Past | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: from @runnning-outof-time

Fic Type: Blurb

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 713

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

“We need to start being honest with each other as well as ourselves,” Y/N stands before Tommy as he sits behind his desk. “And the truth is… I didn’t miss you as much as I thought I would.” 

Tommy looks at her, not showing an ounce of emotion or letting on to what is going through his head. This was the side of him she did not miss. The cool demeanour that accompanied him back from France.  

“How much did you miss me?” He asks, his voice also not giving anything away to what he’s thinking and feeling.  

“Not enough to continue where we left off,” she tells him. 

When Tommy had learned of Y/N’s return, he began to seek her out. They’d gone out for dinner a few times and spent the night in each other's company. Y/N hoped that spending time with him would reignite the flame that use to burn between them but the more time she spent with him she realised it was never going to burn again. She still cared for him, saw him as someone she could trust and rely on and supported him in any way she could.  

“You know I care for you, Tom,” she sighs, sadly. “But whatever is happening between us, it doesn’t feel right. It feels like we’re trying to relive our past. So much has changed between us that it’s just not there anymore.” 

“I understand what you’re saying,” he admits. “I feel it too.” 

Y/N reaches to the back of her neck and unclasps the necklace from around her neck. Tommy had given it to her not long before their relationship ended. She forgot she had it until recently. It once belonged to his mother who had also been like a mother to her.  

She goes to hand it back when Tommy stands up and walks out from behind his desk. He takes it from her but moves behind her to put it back on. “Keep it. You were like a daughter to her, and she would want you to still have it.” 

“But she told you to give it to the woman who steals your heart.” 

“Our relationship might not have worked out how we hoped it would, but you’ll always be the woman who stole my heart,” he admits as he turns her around to face him. 

Y/N looks down at the floor, looking and feeling guilty for not being able to bring herself to feel what she once did for him.  

Tommy places his hand under her chin and tilts her head up so she’s looking at him. “Don’t feel guilty for something you cannot control. The love we use to have for each other might be in the past, but I still care for you deeply as well.” 

Unable to think of anything more to say, Y/N wraps her arms around Tommy, hugging him knowing this might be the last time she gets to do so. She relaxes when he returns her hug.  

Eventually they let each other ago as there is a knock on the door. Tommy clears his throat and tells whoever it is to come in as Y/N collects her things to leave.  

As Polly enters her nephew's office, she greets them with a suspicious look. Y/N looks between Polly and Tommy and informs them, “I’ll be heading back to London tomorrow. Promise me you’ll call if you need anything.” 

“Same for you,” Tommy nods and tells her.  

She also nods, “It was lovely seeing you all again.” 

“It was lovely seeing you too, Y/N,” Polly speaks this time as she frowns slightly confused by what’s happening.  

Y/N gives them a brief smile before exiting Tommy’s office and going back to her mother’s house where she’d been temporarily staying. 

“What was that about?” Polly asks her nephew. She was left slightly bewildered by what just happened.  

“Sometimes things don’t work out the way we expect them too,” he tells her.  

“You’re just letting her walk away again?”  

“At least this time she’s doing it on her own terms,” he says walking back behind his desk, not letting on to his aunt that his heart is hurting a little more than it was 10 minutes again. 

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world

Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Here's a post I found that could help if your not able to be tagged: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

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[jewels-writes]

deception (captain price x reader)

Warnings: None.. yet >:) Word Count: 1,434 Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader Notes: There's a pre-established relationship between the reader and Price, you two are already dating when this story takes place. This is the first part of a longer series so please stay tuned!! As always, this is poorly proofread so apologies for any inconsistencies or grammatical errors. Part 2 Part 3 — — — —

It had been tense since you’d heard. Since anyone heard. You remembered your eyes locking with Price’s when Laswell made the announcement, cutting the mission short. Now you and the 141 were crammed into the back of the cargo truck, untrusting gazes passing through everyone. It was one of you, though the culprit would never admit it. 

One of you was a spy. A traitor. 

You sat between Price and Soap, your hands fiddling in your lap. The nerves ate at you, that there was a spy sitting in the same truck as you. Sickness welled up inside you, you couldn’t handle the thought of one of your friends, of heaven forbid your lover being the one compromising the team. 

You were sure everyone else felt the same. You could hear everyone’s tense breathing as their eyes scanned their teammates. You could see Ghost glaring at you from where he sat across from you, his gloves making a noise at how tight he held his gun. You swore he could dent the metal if he tried hard enough. 

It remained uncomfortably silent the entire bumpy ride back to base. 

When you got back, there were glares from every other unit when the 141 walked by, reasonably so. You were sure they’d also been notified, why else would they look like they wanted you dead. Despite everything, Price stayed close to you. He was your boyfriend, after all. His hand rested on the small of your back, never once wavering, even with the sickening knowledge you both now held.

“You’ll be alright. Everything will be okay. I’m sure this was a mistake.” His gruffy voice reassured you.

You knew how this went, what the protocol was. You were ready for the inevitable questioning and tests that came with such an incident. Soon you and the 141 stood before the single interrogation room, the window to the room revealing that Laswell and another agent sat across from an empty chair.

“I’ll go first.” You muttered, knocking twice on the door before entering. Inside, Laswell sat at the head of the table, her piercing eyes locked onto you. There was no kindness or sympathy in her gaze, only the steely determination of someone who was determined to root out the truth. You could feel the weight of suspicion hanging in the air, choking the room with its intensity.

“Sit,” she commanded, gesturing to the empty chair opposite her. You complied, taking a seat and trying to maintain your composure As you sat down in the hard metal chair, you felt a shiver run up your spine. The entire situation made your blood go cold. You couldn’t process how someone could be a spy. Laswell leaned forward, her voice cold and measured. “Tell me, soldier, what were you really doing during the mission? What information did you share?” As the questioning started, you shook off the nerves, realizing the need for professionalism and honesty. 

You met her gaze with a practiced steadiness from years of being a soldier. “I did as I was instructed. I followed orders and completed my assigned tasks. I didn't share any information with anyone outside the team.”

Laswell's eyes narrowed, watching your every word and facial expression. “And what about your relationship with Captain Price? Have you noticed anything suspicious or peculiar about him? Any conversations that raised your suspicions?”

Your heart skipped a beat, the mention of Price striking a nerve. You had to be careful, to protect him at all costs. Your relationship with him was public, you had nothing to hide. You knew he was a good man. 

“Captain Price is an exceptional leader and my partner. We trust each other implicitly. There's nothing that raises any suspicion on my part.” As you watched her scribble down information onto a notepad, you followed up, your tone accusatory. “You’re not seriously suspecting Price of all people, are you?” 

Laswell's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing further. “Let's not jump to conclusions just yet,” she replied, her voice laced with a subtle hint of irritation. “We can't afford to rule anyone out at this stage. Everyone is under scrutiny, regardless of their rank or reputation.”

A flicker of anger flashed across your features. How could she even consider Price, a veteran soldier, as the spy? He’d risked his life countless times for the greater good, and his loyalty was unwavering. It felt like a personal attack, an insult to both you and Price.

“I understand the need to be thorough,” you retorted, your voice firm and resolute, gaining some volume as she spoke of your lover. “But questioning Price's loyalty seems baseless and disrespectful. He's proven himself time and time again, and his loyalty to this team is undeniable.”

Laswell's cold gaze bore into you, her expression unreadable. “No one is immune to suspicion, soldier,” she replied curtly. “We will pursue every lead until the truth is revealed. Including your Captain.” She paused for a moment before continuing in a lower tone. “Do not let your emotions blind you to the truth.”

You clenched your fists, fighting to contain the rising frustration within you. Despite the anger coursing through your veins, you knew you had to tread carefully. Pushing too hard might only raise suspicion against innocence. Swallowing the bitter taste of your words, you forced a neutral tone.

“I understand, Kate,”  you said with a deliberate calmness. “I'll cooperate fully with the investigation. But I stand by Price. I believe in his honor and loyalty to this team.”

Laswell leaned back, her gaze still fixed upon you. A moment of silence lingered in the room, thick with tension. Finally, she spoke with a dismissive wave of her hand, indicating you were free to leave.

“We'll see about that,” she murmured, her voice tinged with an ominous warning, as if she knew something that you didn’t.

As you left the room, it took everything you had to not let the door slam. Your anger had simmered to the edge, threatening to overflow. Price, who’d been watching the entire time through the small window, rushed to your side, seeing your upset state.

“What happened in there, love? Talk to me.” His voice was low and soothing, desperate to ease your troubles. As he reached you, his hands went to both of your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him.

“Laswell suspects you. You were all she would bloody talk about.” Your voice was trembling, giving way to your inner turmoil.

Price's hand tightened on your shoulders, his gaze narrowing in concern. He could sense the anger radiating from you, and his brows furrowed in response. “She suspects me?”  he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “That daft woman must be blind if she thinks I'm the bloody spy.”

His grip on your shoulders loosened, his expression softening with understanding. “Look, love, I know it's infuriating. But we can't let it get to us. We can't let it tear us apart.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “We'll find the truth, together. We'll expose the real traitor and clear our names.”

“How will I be able to trust then?” You asked helplessly, your voice charged with stress. “These are the people I let protect me on the field. How am I ever supposed to heal if there is actually a traitor? And we’ve been deceived?”

Price's gaze softened, his voice filled with understanding as he spoke softly. “Trust is a fragile thing, love. But we can't let that fear consume us. We've been through hell and back together, and that counts for something. If there is a traitor, we'll expose them, and we'll do it as a team. We won't let them shake our faith in each other.”

He took a step closer, one of hands moving from your shoulder to gently cup your cheek. “You're strong, soldier. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I'll be right by your side, every step of the way. We'll get through this together, and we'll emerge stronger on the other side.”

Price's thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch offering a soothing comfort amidst the chaos. “Believe in us, in our bond. We've faced worse odds, and we've come out victorious. This is just another battle that we'll conquer. Trust me.”

And with those words, he pulled you into a warm embrace, enveloping you in a sense of security and love. In that moment, you felt the weight on your shoulders slightly lighten, and a flicker of hope flashed in your mind. You had to pray that he was right. — — — — As always, my requests are open. Send a message if you would like to request anything