#nor do i have the energy to make any. and i feel like none of my friends will love me forever. and i want my parents.

[spooky-dice]

“fhjy is not sad” some of us are lonely and in tuition deficit!!!!!!!!!!!!

[smoft-demons]

Hey, I've been reading your post for a while now andi absolutely love them. Before I got into OM I was already a big D&D person and love fantesty-romance novels. Although, that's besides the point. I was genuinely scared to ask this until I saw your headcanons, there so wholesome<3

But I was wondering if you could do a brothers + the others react to MC getting there period? I was planning on doing it on my own page but I'm a bit scared to publish my own stuff. Although, thank you if you do.

-H.M

Yeah, sure! As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I love writing all the comfort and fluff prompts. It’s like catnip to me lmao

This is gonna be pretty long, so I’m only gonna do the brothers.

Thanks for requesting!! I hope you like it :)

_______

MC is on their period

_______

You’ve been living in the House of Lamentation for a while now. You are, at this point, thoroughly and inextricably part of the family.

As a member of their family, your demons have no problem with helping you out. They can’t help but fawn over you a bit, as well—this wasn’t a familiar problem to them before meeting you, as none of them menstruate. Plus, any human condition of yours that highlights vulnerability and pain on your part makes them all get a tad protective.

In any case, they make sure to be helpful!

_______

Lucifer: responsibility -> rest

With your permission, Lucifer notes your cycle on the calendar he keeps on the kitchen wall. Tactfully, of course. It’s just a little red X in the corner of the box that marks the day you start until the day it ends. It ensures no one in the house forgets to be extra nice to you on those days. Plus, it serves as a way to remind you, in case it sneaks up on you.

In the week leading up to it, he checks up on your stock of human world products (and devildom ones too) for it. Painkillers, chocolate, tea, hygiene products, a heating pad, everything. If you’re running low, he will either take you to get more or take care of it himself, depending on how you’re feeling.

If you’re irregular, he takes extra care with tracking your cycle. Having records is important!

He takes you off the chore rotation while you’re bleeding. He wants you to rest. He will not make you expend your energy on chores while you’re in pain.

If you WANT to take some chores though, he understands and will let you, as long as you don’t make yourself suffer unnecessarily. He understands that some people cope worse with stress, illness, and/or pain when their routine is interrupted and they have no task to distract themself with. He would know! He’s one of them! So if you are too, he won’t force you to give up your tasks.

He does very strictly instruct you not to push yourself, however. You are to let him know immediately if you need to stop, so he or one of his brothers can help you out.

If you want somewhere quiet to hide, he’s got you. His study is a great spot for that! He won’t let anyone else in.

His room is another great spot for that, if you want a softer surface and dimmer lighting. You’re allowed to be in there without him if that ends up working out best (and he hopes you understand the level of trust in you he’s displaying by allowing that), but he has no problem with bringing his work out of the study and into his room if you want his company.

If he’s not on a time crunch, he won’t bother bringing any work with him though. Unless he has reason to expect you to feel guilty for taking up his time, in which case he will bring some and finish it in the room with you and then tell you he’s done for the day.

You end up lying on his bed with him, contorted in whatever weird position makes your cramps hurt the least. It’s the middle of the day, but for once Lucifer doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just lying next to you with his hand splayed over your uterus or lower back, applying light pressure and warmth to help the pain go away. Quietly talking to you about stuff that doesn’t matter.

There’s no concern for productivity. Nor for terrorizing his brothers into order. It seems the key for making Lucifer take a day to just relax is to request his company while you’re in pain.

See, Lucifer’s driving force is how much he loves his family. He will go to ANY lengths to keep them safe and happy. It’s his main priority. You’re part of his family now. You’re the youngest, even… and you’re in pain. So, he’s okay with pushing off the work Diavolo gives him for a day. For you, it’s worth it.

There’s no paperwork in any realm that he would prioritize over comforting you when you’re in pain. He hopes you feel all the love in that sentiment.

You know how huge a declaration that action is, because there is NO other way to get Lucifer to voluntarily lie around in the middle of the day.

_______

Mammon: devotion -> generosity

Mammon was the first one you went to for help during your very first period in the Devildom.

After a short, frantic conversation about what happened to you, why, and how you normally deal with this, he set you up in his room with some towels, a spare set of his own comfortably worn in clothes, and a movie as he rushed out to find some Devildom substitute for the hygiene products you’re used to. Just, SOMETHING to absorb the blood in the meantime before he can get you products from the human world!

He would have gone to the human world immediately, but he’s not allowed and he doesn’t have time to talk Lucifer into letting him up there yet!! You have NOTHING to work with right now, he’s gotta figure something out ASAP!

He didn’t even think about the amount of money he’s willing to spend, or how else he could be using it. He may not have been willing to tell you how much he cares for you at that point, but he has always come through for you when it matters. Even in the early days.

You find yourself contemplating Mammon’s contrasting demeanour while he’s out. This isn’t the first demonstration of his responsible mode that you’ve seen. It’s fascinating, the way he acts so careless and tsundere until someone needs him—at which point he drops that image like it’s nothing, revealing the softhearted and protective big brother he really is.

In those moments, you can see in his personality that he helped raise 5 little brothers (and one Lilith, though you don’t learn about her until later) and is actually pretty damn good at it. It’s clear that he loves you more than he’s willing to admit in those rare moments, when showing it genuinely matters.

Anyway. He came home with an assortment of items for you. No medicine yet because he doesn’t trust that Devildom painkillers won’t harm you, but he brought a BUNCH of snacks, and a collection of things that can be used to absorb the blood for now, until he can get Lucifer to let him go get the stuff you normally use from the human world. You can take your pick.

He even commissioned an enchanter to make you a custom heating pad, because he doesn’t trust the ones meant for demons to not burn your skin. He didn’t think about the price. Frankly, he doesn’t care. Maybe he’ll remember to complain about it to save face later. Maybe.

His main concern—making sure you’re okay—left no room to think of that in that moment. He waves off your concern about bloodstains on the stuff he lent you before he went out. Being reassuring in his usual irreverent way, saying something about how he’s a demon, and demons don’t tend to be squeamish about blood. Hell if he cares, he says.

While you’re in the bathroom washing up and dealing with the bleeding (with a SECOND set of Mammon’s worn-in, comfy clothes that he put in your hands before shoving you into the bathroom, not giving you a second to refuse), Mammon is texting Lucifer to find a way to get you proper period supplies from the human world.

When you come back to him, he tells you that you’ll have what you need before you go to bed, but in the meantime you should sit, because he’s putting on another movie.

He watches you shift around uncomfortably over the next few minutes. Cramps, you know. You’re not exactly comfortable sitting the way you are. Without a word, he pulls you to lie down with your head resting on his leg. He’s looking away from you, indistinctly mumbling something about “so lucky I’m lookin’ after ya” and “what would ya do without the great Mammon” and “MY human, damn it” as he carefully rubs tension out of your back.

“What was that?” You ask him.

“Shut up an’ watch the damn movie!” He splutters.

You stay like that until Lucifer shows up with your requested items. Pads, tampons, a menstrual cup, painkillers, whatever it is you asked for.

Later that night, as Mammon persists in rubbing your back as another movie plays, you find that your trust in him is stronger than it has ever been before. You understand exactly why Mammon is the best demon to be in charge of your well-being. Lucifer chose him for a reason, and it’s impossible to miss. Mammon is so damn caring under the tsundere façade.

You feel so loved. You ARE so loved. The pain fades away under the warmth of his hands. His lap makes a good pillow, and Mammon makes a great guardian.

(Every month after this, he leaves his door open for you in case you want a distraction from the pain. He’s ready with snacks and a movie. He’ll happily do this for you every time.)

_______

Levi: passion -> gentleness

Whatever it is that Levi notices first—be it the blood, the worse mood, the regular time spent with Mammon every month—he freaks out. He’s like “AAAAWTF WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING ARE YOU DYING???” Or like “oh noooo are you mad at me why are you randomly sad do you hate me now??” Or like “why can’t you reschedule with Mammon and do this time limited event with me, do you not wanna play with me anymore???”

Either way, bro is suffering.

Eventually, either you or one of his older brothers explains to him, and he feels bad. He didn’t mean to stress you out worse! Also, periods are real?? He thought it was just some creative plot point in the occasional anime! That’s crazy, why are humans built like that??

Anyway. Levi’s nothing if not passionate, and he’s gonna turn some of that passion towards finding ways to make you more comfortable.

He will find a way to order all the human world snacks you crave while you’re bleeding. He will be on the lookout for gifts, like games and merch and manga you’d want. He stockpiles them so he always has something ready to cheer you up when you need that.

He will even do his best to redirect the envy he feels towards Mammon and his established routine of movies and snacks in his room with you lying in his lap and getting free back rubs on the first day of your period each month. He wants that to be him, damn it! But he’s not gonna disrupt that for you.

He WILL claim hanging out with you on your day 2 though, AND will fill in every time if Mammon’s not available. The only thing that can beat out his shyness at the idea of having you using his lap as a pillow is the raging envy at knowing MAMMON gets to have that every month!

(Eventually, once you figure out that Levi wants to be invited so bad, you just invite him. It’s not like you don’t want him there! He’s very happy to sit next to you with your legs in his lap while he ignores Mammon’s stupid movie and plays a game on his phone. It’s nice to have two demon pillows. This one’s got built-in cooling!)

Levi understands not wanting to deal with lights and noise and craziness when you’re in pain. He will prevent any of his brothers from bringing any of that around you with all the determination and passion he brings to everything he cares about.

He is remarkably gentle, for someone who is usually so excitable. So considerate! You can see in the way he forces everyone to only argue over text, in the gentle movement of cool, nimble hands over sore calves and hips and ankles, in the presentation of snacks and gifts determinedly brought to you from the human world, how much he cares about you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

_______

Satan: research -> comfort

The first order of business for nerd boy here is, of course, research. He is gathering information from all his relevant contacts—every human sorcerer and witch he knows, every demon with a pact-bonded menstruating human they care about AND the aforementioned human, every healer, medical researcher, librarian…

Yeah, he’s gonna end up knowing more about it than you do.

He comes back home after a few days, mumbling about human endocrine systems and nutrition and medical malpractice of menstruating patients and the mechanics of blood production and every phase of a menstrual cycle and how pain works on a chemical level. He’s got notebooks and everything. He’s got the whole history of menstruation since the beginning of humanity summarized in one of those notebooks.

… Maybe it’s a bit overkill. But you know how he gets when he’s curious, especially about something that hurts you! He’s gotta know everything!

So now he’s infodumping to you about every symptom you mention. If you’re the sort of person who finds that interesting and helpful, perfect! If you’re not… well, he won’t be offended if you get mad at him for effectively mansplaining your own body to you. Demon-splaining? Whatever, either way he will take that correction with grace and only tell you information you directly ask for. He’s learned enough about menstruation to be very sympathetic and patient while you’re in the middle of it. It seems awful to him, and he’s not about to make it worse!

He’s wise enough to know that he should ask before ACTING on any of that information though. He won’t try to optimize your nutrition or your painkillers or anything unless you ask him to. He knows that would be too far. He’s not prideful enough to override you like that, he’s not Lucifer.

If you get really angry when you bleed, he’s got you! He understands, he encourages you to yell and rant in front of him all you want. Throw around some destructive spellwork or just break stuff if you need to, he’s got a room for that. It’s all good!

Satan is so good with practical comfort. He’s big on venting for your health and sanity. He knows what buttons not to push, they’re obvious to him as wrath incarnate.

Of course, he’ll also give you hugs and drive off his crazy brothers if you need peace. He’ll bring you to the cats when you get sick of people. He’ll find you any answer you need. If your cycle is irregular or in any way atypical, there’s no better demon to have searching for answers for you—and he’d NEVER let no medical malpractice happen to you. Doctors are GOING to take you seriously, damn it!

To him, there’s no such thing as too much hassle to help someone he loves so much as he loves you.

_______

Asmo: luxury -> selflessness

As the Avatar of Lust, there’s no way Asmo doesn’t know the basics of how menstrual cycles work. No way. Even if demons don’t get them, it’s relevant to his whole domain.

Asmo’s got you. He’s gonna spoil the hell out of you. Massages with fancy oils, hot baths with magic muscle relaxant products added, masks to prevent any skin issues from fluctuating hormones, everything he can think of.

If anyone even tries to make you do anything you don’t want to, he will destroy them. This is a time for rest, he insists!

He relishes any opportunity to relax with you, have a self-care day, just chill and recharge together… but he’s prioritizing you. You get to see the rare responsible Asmo during this time! If you have non-negotiable responsibilities, he’s helping you. He wants you to get done faster!

He’s actually got a pretty great strategic mind when he’s incentivized to use it! He’s so efficient! Only because he wants you to be in his room relaxing as fast as possible, but it’s totally there!

At the end of it all, it’s completely possible that he forgets about spoiling himself too, just because he got so focused on trying to take as much of your pain away as possible. It’s wild that he doesn’t think he has any capacity for selflessness. Good thing you know better.

_______

Beel: perceptiveness -> caring

Beel smells the blood. Immediately. At first he’s concerned but minds his own business, trusting that Mammon’s taking care of you. But after you’ve pacted with him? Not anymore.

Beel becomes your warning system. He will notify you as soon as the hormonal shift starts to happen. Days before you even start bleeding.

You know it’s because he cares, and that he can’t avoid noticing the change in your scent whether he wants to or not. You choose not to think it’s weird.

He gets worried once he learns about what happens to you every month. His first priority is making sure he doesn’t eat everything that’s high in iron, folic acid, vitamin C and D, and omega-3s. All very good for you when you’re on your period. He makes sure that stuff remains available to you.

He invites you to exercise with him too, because he heard that can be helpful. He won’t STOP you from lifting if that’s what you want to do, but HE is choosing to focus on stretching and moderate cardio for now (stuff that should be more helpful for you) and if you want to join him, well… that’s what he’s doing. What do you mean he changed it on purpose? He just felt like yoga and a nice jog today! Don’t think about it too hard!

Beel is actually the best one to go to for massages. Sure, Asmo knows what feels good and he’s phenomenal at that. True. But Beel is the one who understands every muscle and tendon in a body, so if you want a full, functional reset, in which all the tension and soreness in you gets methodically, optimally pressed out, you go to Beel. It might not feel quite as nice—in fact it might hurt a fair bit—but it’ll be so effective. You will have no pain at all after. Plus, he’ll teach you stretches to prevent some of that tension coming back later, too. He’s so helpful.

_______

Belphie: laziness -> service

We all know Belphie is the number one advocate for rest. He will encourage you to sleep through as much of it as possible. Why would you want to be awake to experience pain? Screw that. He will actively keep you asleep as long as possible—unless you tell him in advance that there has to be limits so you don’t bleed on everything you’re touching. Even so, he doesn’t quite see the problem. He’s a demon, he’s not squeamish about blood. What biohazard?

But no, he’ll respect that. If he’s a lil shit about it, all you have to do is pull the “remember that time you killed me” card and he’ll do whatever you want lol

In the biggest twist of irony since The Incident, Belphie actually finds himself serving as your alarm clock. It has to be him, you see, because he insists on sleeping next to you. He wants to be there to ensure you sleep through the night, and don’t ever get woken up by cramps. So it’s gotta be him to wake you up when it’s absolutely necessary. Because you see, he does not trust anyone else to understand what’s absolutely necessary. Only someone who loves sleep as much as him gets it, he insists.

Belphie is nothing if not lazy. Obviously. But… he’s actually voluntarily doing work on your behalf?? He’s concealing bloodstains on your sheets from you so you don’t feel uncomfortable, and washing them for you. He isn’t even telling you about that, so he isn’t even getting any thanks for it! How very kind and un-demonic of him!

(Of course, he’s mostly doing it because he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed and stop sleeping next to him while you’re on your period. He’s got selfish reasons. But… really, it’s not very selfish at all when you look at how that benefits you too. How could he be so surprised to hear that you think he can be kind and sweet when he wants to be? How’s he not seeing it??)

He may deny that he’s actually a sweetie, but you know the truth. When sloth incarnate is voluntarily doing secret chores for you, you KNOW he loves you. It might as well be spilling out of his soul, it’s so undeniable.

_______

You’re bleeding. It’s miserable. No one likes their period. It’s made much more bearable for you, however, now that you have this ridiculous family falling over themselves to make your life easier. All the pain, all the hormonal fuckery, all the bullshit your body puts you through is… well, actually quite tolerable when you’re loved this much.

[seafoamaphrodite]

a beginner’s guide to…

✨ altars ✨

here are some materials you can use for an altar, whether it is for your spellwork, a deity, or any other use! altars should reflect your personality, and be a space where you feel happy and safe :D

none of these materials are required, and everything is completely customizable to your beliefs! (just practice respect and safety obviously)

🕯️ basics 🕯️

an altar cloth is a piece of fabric that covers your altar. this could be a bandana, a small blanket, or even a piece of paper!

a glass plate is a mundane but VERY versatile altar piece. it can work as an offering dish, a tray to collect wax drippings, or just a little trinket holder

candles are an easy addition to any altar. you can use any type of candle, but my favorites are taper and prayer candles. scented candles are completely fine to use as well! choose candles based on color and scent

natural materials like crystals, flowers, plants, animal bones (responsibly sourced), etc. are an incredible addition to any altar! if you have a deity altar, learn about their associations and use this to guide your choice

paper and pen/pencil will be your best friend if you write petitions, draw sigils, etc. keep them near your altar for convenience

🌱 cleansing 🌱

many people believe an area should be “cleansed” before it is used as an altar or sacred space

methods of cleansing include incense, water cleansing, sage smudging, and more

incense cleansing is often done by wafting an incense stick or cone through a space and visualizing the smoke clearing out negative energy

sandalwood, lavender, and rosemary are common incense choices for cleansing

water cleansing is something i do a lot, it can be done by sprinkling water in an area or even washing/pouring water. regular tap water is perfectly fine, but you can also incorporate moon water, sun water, rainwater, etc.

smudging with sage involves burning a bundle of sage and, similar to incense cleansing, wafting the smoke through the area. sage smudging is traditional to indigenous tribes like the Lakota and Navajo. as a result, sage smudging (especially the use of white sage) is often considered cultural appropriation when done by non-indigenous people. i am not indigenous nor do i use sage, so i am not incredibly well versed on the subject but i thought i should include it. always do research and practice respect and sensitivity 💌

🌙 takeaways 🌙

finally, your altar is YOUR space. you can include or exclude anything you want; your space doesn’t need to be “aesthetic” or make sense to others

my first altar was a cardboard box with one candle and a handful of crystals. it wasn’t expensive or fancy, but it got me into my practice

through the years, my altar has grown and changed as i have

if you want to make an altar, start with what you have! you would be surprised how powerful your resources are 🩷

[alexiroflife]

being married to gojo as an actress while playing the role of a villain...

au, fluff, some suggestive themes, cheating themes

🌟🌟🌟

both you, satoru, and probably the rest of the world can confidently say that satoru is your biggest fan. while he is fully successful within his own career, he can not help but fawn over your achievements like a ten year old boy with one of your movie posters hung up in his room

the world does not associate either of you without the other. yes, you have individually made an outstanding name for yourself within the television and theater industry, but your fans find the two of you so adorable, so iconic that it’s impossible to imagine you without satoru gojo and satoru gojo without you

viewers are starstruck when you arrive to your film premiers with satoru on your arm, beaming pridefully as though it’s his first time walking the red carpet when that’s hardly true. you’re beautiful, and everyone knows it. the second your eyes meet a camera along with satoru’s striking blue ones, his hand wrapped snugly around your waist and your faces adorned with dazzling smiles, photographers go wild. even more so when satoru blatantly grabs your face and kisses you all over, feeding your fan pages’ content as well as his desire to constantly shower you in affection

and when it’s not at premieres, satoru’s supporting you during tours, press conferences, galas, meet and greets, sitting backstage or in the front row of the crowd or at times by your side as though he can’t bear to be away from you. when you’re being showered in appreciation, he’s flicking thousands of pictures, capturing the way you interact with your adoring admirers

satoru's grown rather used to the array of roles you have played. he's seen you in rom-coms, dramas, thrillers, actions, you name it, and though he doesn't necessarily get jealous when you have to kiss someone on screen anymore, he doesn't always appreciate some of the intimate scenes you do. despite so, he trusts you. he knows it's your job and that none of it is real, and above all, he knows the faces you make when you're truly experiencing pleasure. while you're an amazing actor, those faces you make on screen could never begin to compare to the ones he draws out of you

ever the arrogant man, however, satoru always makes it a point to remind you of who makes you feel good- who has you crossing your legs under the table as you meet with colleagues over the computer, his fingers working their way in and out of your sopping cunt off camera as you try your damndest to keep a straight face while your entire lower half is squirming- who makes a point to fuck you over the dresser of your trailer in between shoots after having brought you some coffee to help keep your energy high, rambling on about how one of the tech assistants had been looking at you for too long- who, at any event possible, will never fail to lay you back on the seat of your limo before even stepping outside, scrunching up your obscenely priced gown to eat you out as he gazes up at you over your legs

"you're so gorgeous, pretty. my pretty girl," "how lucky am i to be the only one who gets to see you like this, hm?" "fuck, baby, they have no fuckin' idea how good you feel"

even with his habits, satoru will never turn his nose up at any role you play simply because you're far too talented and simultaneously devoted to him for him to ever feel put off by your occupation. besides, he's managed to bag one of the most famous actors in the world. he truly does not think he has anything to worry about when it comes to you

satoru finds himself rather surprised, yet excited nonetheless, when he hears that you are to be playing a dislikable character in the upcoming film of the summer. you warn him that it's drastically different, that you'll be tapping into a morally poor side of yourself for this role that you have never delved into, nor really favored before

"pretty, you'll do amazing. trust me. do i get to watch you be mean to other guys? do you get to beat anyone's ass? honestly, that sounds like a dream come true" "i mean, yeah, but toru it's more than that. my character is actually a bitch. an unfaithful, abusive one. i don't know how i'm gonna do that..."

satoru knows that behind all the glitz, glamor, and fame, the occupation of an actor can be incredibly emotionally and physically taxing. you don't tell him much more about the role before rehearsals and filming starts, but he can tell over time that you're struggling with this particular film. simply because you're just too kind of a person despite how large your presence is

well into the filming process, he decides to visit you on set to serve as some extra emotional support. he's watching from behind the cameras intently as you go through a scene that's way more intense than he had previously expected, and his jaw practically drops as he watches the scene play out before him

your character is being confronted by her husband about her infidelity, and all the while as your acting partner screams at you in tears to beg you for some remorse, you lay back on a sofa with a cigarette pinched between your fingers, face completely dull and apathetic

"how could you do this to me?! to us? why won't you look at me! I say something!"

"whatever i say won't change the fact that i fucked someone else."

"...do you even care? do you care that you've ruined our relationship?"

"let's be real, there was no relationship to begin with."

"w-what do you mean?"

you stand, stubbing your cigarette into a mug, and walk over to your sniveling scene partner. the camera zooms on your face, your dead eyes, your angled brows. "i never loved you. don't you get it? you're just a pet, and you know it. so don't go crying to me about breaking something that was never promised"

satoru's eyes are wide, completely enraptured as though this scene is a real moment he is witnessing from afar. your fake husband he breaks down, dropping to his knees and clinging to you, but you curl your lips in disgust.

"get the fuck off me," you hiss, shoving him rather aggressively away. he falls, sobbing. "pathetic piece of shit."

you go to turn away, but stop and stumble. immediately you break, and gone is the merciless woman that was acting before the crew seconds ago. the light returns to your eyes as you cover your mouth in embarrassment, looking up.

"sorry, i forgot my next block," you say sweetly, timidly. "how was that?"

"perfect! let's pick up from when you turn away. once you say that last line, you-"

satoru is baffled, the director's notes falling into muffled white noise as he stares at you. he's never seen you in such a position before, one that has him questioning everything about you. and though you claimed to have a hard time with it, you were doing fucking phenomenal

he sees now what you mean about your character being... well, a horrible person for lack of a better term. he doesn't even recognize you, and he's sure your fans are going to have a field day when this film comes out. you're being shown in a drastically different light from your heroine and emotionally relatable love interest positions, and it will surely be a sight for the world to see.

during your break, you walk up to satoru tiredly and burrow your face into his chest. he wraps you up immediately, babbling about how insane you were in your scene. you look up at him with those big (e/c) eyes as he runs his hand over the back of your head.

"you think so?"

"baby, my jaw was dropped the entire time. i don't even know how you did that. you played that a little too well."

he's joking, but you still make a face of slight fear, as though you're scared of offending him. "you think it's too much?"

"no- it's a lot, but no- it's perfect. it's bold, and you do it so well."

"it doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

"why would it make me uncomfortable, pretty? i know you're acting, and it's not like you'd ever cheat on me let alone act like that," he tilts his head as a remorseful look flashes through your eyes. "are you uncomfortable?"

"i don't know... i'm just scared of how people will react... mostly because i could never picture saying this stuff to you, and i've had to do a lot of exercises to get into this toxic mindset that just... eugh. trust me, you haven't even seen the half of it."

"have you been able to take long enough breaks?"

"kinda..."

"alright, let's go chill in your trailer 'til your next call. i don't want you stressing your pretty little head about this, princess. you're doing amazing and remember, it's just a movie."

and yes, it's just a movie. a movie that has satoru twitching in his seat during the premiere at how uncomfortably awful you're acting the entire time in the film. by now, you've eased into the feel of things and are rather proud of the work you''ve done, but also happy that it's all over. you hold satoru's hand tight during some of the worst scenes, sneaking glances at him as the screen flickers intensely over his glassy eyes. you can tell he's rather moved by it all, by seeing you in such a position, and you chew harshly on the inside of your lip

when the lights come up, you're given a standing ovation initiated of course by your rather emotional husband, but in his defense, the entire room has tears in their eyes as well. satoru's clapping harshly, and you try to hide your face as grateful tears spring in your eyes, grateful for this opportunity, for your accomplishments, for the support that surrounds you

satoru wraps you in a huge hug and whispers in your ear "don't ever do what you just did in that movie to me," he whimpers, and you laugh loudly because both of you know the thought is inconceivable. "you did so so good, baby. m'so proud of how far you've come"

that night, you shower each other with love. you're wrapped up in each other's limbs, your lips meeting every part of his skin to remind him that you are still you despite the realism of the character you played, and that satoru will always be your one and only you devote yourself faithfully to for the rest of your life. when the two of you have spent yourselves, satoru holds you in the moonlit darkness of your bedroom, arms wrapped around you from behind with your back to his chest. he kisses your shoulder softly, then your cheek

"you really liked the movie, toru?" you whisper. "i loved it," he mumbles into your skin. "but, god, i thought i was gonna have a heart attack almost fifty times and that one scene with you at the bar didn't help." "i knew you were gonna say something about that!" "i can't help it, baby, you were just so heartless and scary," he pouts

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eight

authors note: so....i like cliched shit, so there's some of that here. hope it's not too much. this one is also very heavy at points, so please read the warnings, but it def has its moments that help progress the plot. also, the book referenced is a real work that we often use in therapy with survivors of sexual trauma. an excellent, powerfully healing read. i own neither the book nor the excerpt used.

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

cw/tw: references to csa, aftermath of csa, character being triggered, scene of violence/torture, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 12k (i clearly don't know how to stop. it is what it is)

It's out of our hands We can't stop what we have begun

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

There’s a heavy sigh followed by continued writing, icy blue eyes focused on the report before her instead of the irksome man before her, no doubt giving her those ‘fuck me’ eyes that would be an HR nightmare if HR actually did any fucking thing at this precinct.

She finishes her quote before asking with all the intentional disinterest, “what do you want, Reed?”

His question, as well as his intrusion by her desk, is expected. “why aren’t you joining the rest of us for the luncheon today?”

It’s none of his business, and Danica has no issues telling him that in intentionally vague terms. “Got somewhere to be.” 

Finally looking up, she sees Reed’s gaze go cold. “Where?”

Danica drops her pin and answers in the sweetest yet nastiest voice she can muster before 10am. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but the Miller girl is being released from the hospital today.”

Reed is just as confused as he is stupid. “Who?”

His obtuseness shouldn’t surprise nor irritate her, but it does. She remembers every single case she’s ever worked, and she’s certain this one will always remain at the top of the list. No matter how far she gets into her career. “Solana Miller. Xavier Miller’s daughter. The home invasion—”

“I know.” Reed’s almost relaxed, nosy disposition has entirely shifted. “Captain said the case was closed. Kid doesn’t want to press charges.”

“That kid is fucking traumatized. Don’t put that on her. Xavier is the one refusing to let us proceed.”

Reed leans forward, harshly whispering, “keep your fucking voice down, alright? Miller is…..he’s not someone you want to piss off. If he says we don’t run it, then we don’t run it, got it?”

“And who the hell is he to decide how the law works?” Clarke is also leaned over her desk, almost a month worth of pent up frustration with the lack of justice bubbling to the surface. “You read that medical report. You were on the scene. You don’t beat a grown man the way they beat that little girl. She could barely fucking walked. Dragged herself to a neighbors to ask for help. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

“But she is, okay?” He’s also matching her energy, just as passionate about blatant injustice as she is for said justice. “The best thing to do for that kid is to let her go home, heal, and move on with her life.”

And that’s the part that almost breaks her, that almost makes her shift from her role as an advocate to the survivor within that so deeply identifies with Solana.“You really think it’s that simple? Like she can just go back into the house where she was raped and almost killed and pretend like nothing happened?”

“No, I don’t know, Clarke, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m moving on and picking my battles wisely.” His voice switches to something ominous. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d move on too.”

Aware of the underlying implications of his warning, she calls his bluff, “you threatening me?”

“Believe it or not, I actually do like you, Danica, but you’re playing a dangerous game.” Reed’s voice lowers again, and Danica almost feels like he’s trying to be genuine. “I know you’re still new around here, so let me give some free advice. Xavier Miller is a dangerous man. He’s got friends in places you don’t want to find out about. Leave this alone before you’re the next mutilated body we find floating in the river, alright?”

________

Danica Clarke has always been stubborn, a trait she’s certain will lead to her demise, but if this is the route that brings her to said demise, she’s okay with it. 

Danica waits in the doorway, aware of how knocking can be alarming. She waits and assesses for the moment Solana’s gaze is close enough to where she won’t be as startled. “Hey there, pretty girl….”

Sure enough, Solana jumps a bit, and Danica is pleased to see the swelling on her face has gone down tremendously and the bruising has started to fade to an almost flesh toned color. She looks less at death’s door than the first time Danica was introduced to the 12-year-old.

“Can I come in?”

As expected, Solana doesn’t say anything, just nods quietly. 

Danica moves to sit in the chair on the side of the bed. “Heard you were getting released today….” Danica studies Solana carefully, adding kindly, “may be kinda nice to have a change of scenery.”

Solana remains quiet, but Danica has been around enough survivors, remembers her own survivor story, to know that nothing feels nice or good in the immediate aftermath. There’s just numbness and pain. No in-between.

“I’m so sorry there’s nothing more I can do to help you, Solana. I really am.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserve justice, and I wish there was more I could do, but….my hands are tied.” Danica’s only been at this precinct for less than six months, and while asking to be transferred won’t be a good look when evaluations roll around, she doesn’t give a fuck. She can’t serve with bastards who would let sick fucks like Solana’s attackers walk around freely. 

It’s too repulsive.

“But, I do…..I want to give you something.” Danica reaches into her backpack and pulls out something she hasn’t had to look at in years. A book, thick, with yellow, paperback binding. The edges are a bit worn, and certain parts are highlighted, but it’s still just as powerful nonetheless. “When I was….a little younger than you, I was raped too.” Danica sees Solana’s gaze lift up, surprise and shock written on her face. “And it wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started to heal and finally process what’d happened to me.” Danica’s lips press together. “The counselor I saw in college, she gave me this book, and it changed my life.”

Solana looks down, reading the title, typed in big, black letters: The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.

“I wanna read something out of it for you, if that’s alright?” Consent, especially now, is everything, so Danica waits patiently for Solana again to nod, permitting her permission to read. 

With a deep breath to also prepare herself for revisiting the past, she begins reading a passage that Solana can see she has highlighted. 

“I know you're in a world of pain, but that pain will lessen. At the beginning you can't see that. You can only see your pain and you think it will never go away. But the nature of pain is that it changes— it changes like a sunset. At first, it's this intense red-orange in the sky, and then it starts getting softer and soften. The texture of pain changes as you work through it. And then one day, you wake up and realize that life isn't just about working through your abuse; it's about living, too.”

Danica looks up to see Solana sniffling, wiping at her eyes. She’s tempted to reach and take her hand, but she also knows better, knows that the last thing this child wants is to be touched.

“I want you to have this, Solana. I want you to take it, and when you’re older, when you’re ready to reclaim your voice, and you will, I want you to read every word in here. From cover to back cover. You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. You don’t feel it now, but you have to believe it.” Her eyes gloss over. “Don’t ever stop living, Solana.”

“Solana.”

Flashbacks and memories from that time of her life don’t happen often, and it’s an intentional thing on Solana’s part.

She doesn’t like thinking about that part, but this certain memory has now revisited her a total of three times now. Twice in a dream and now in the middle of a conversation with Bayley and Naomi.

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing seems like the most appropriate thing until Naomi shakes her head.

“Roman said we’re not supposed to accept or condone you apologizing for anything, so imma pretend like I didn’t hear that, sis.” 

Roman….

He confuses her. 

He’s certainly unlike any man she’s ever met. And though that number is far from generous, he’s still the anomaly. 

After essentially rejecting what was an….interesting, unfamiliar, different experience between the two of them, she expected him to be upset. To be frustrated. To be absolutely all over her baggage. To ignore her.

But, that’s not what happened, none of that has happened. Instead, he’s carried on like nothing happened, like she didn’t run away from him in near tears. 

Like they didn’t….like they didn’t almost have a moment.

He’s stayed true to his word in that he’s met her every day after work in the week that’s passed. And while the first day was awkward, mostly on her part, they’ve fallen back in that same confusing yet peaceful space. 

Confusing yet peaceful…that seems to be the theme since the day she said “I do.”

It’s not uncomfortable nor unpreferred over where she came from.

It’s just…..different. 

“Oh—okay.” Solana doesn’t know what else to say but notices that Naomi looks like she has something else to say but is hesitant. “Is—is everything okay?”

That seems to be the door that paves the way for said conversation.  “I’ve been thinking. You’ve come a long way. Like, you’ve really got the basics down, all the defensive positions, even fluidity of movement.” It’s leading up to something, Solana is certain of this, but it also means a lot to her that Naomi believes she’s progressed. Doing well with this or even retaining Naomi’s training is something she never saw for herself. “I want to advance you to learning attacks. Solana’s stomach starts to tighten. “With weapons.”

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

Bayley sighs, joining in to help Naomi present her case. “We wanna teach you how to use knives.” Solana’s stomach tightening quickly morphs into twists and knots. “Hear me out, please. I know….I know that’s gotta be a sensitive thing for you, and I totally understand why, but knife fighting is a really great skill to have, even if just to have one on you at all times and know how to use it if need be.”

“And let’s be honest, Roman isn’t going to let anything happen to you to where you would need it, but still.” Something tells Solana Naomi isn’t wrong about that. That neither woman is wrong in what they’re saying, but just the conversation brings back flashes of that night, the night that left the physical and mental scars she still bears now.

Bayley offers a sympathetic smile. “Just think about it, okay?” Solana can do that. She will do that, just….maybe not right now.

And she doesn’t have to because Roman and the twins suddenly enter the gym space. Solana’s stomach tightens seeing Roman shirtless, a sight that’s happened a couple times now, and each time doesn’t seem to make it any easier on her nerves. If anything, it gets worse.

“Whassup, ladies.” Jey greets, clapping his hands as he asks, “ya’ll ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Solana speaks up, not directing her question to anyone in particular, but Bayley is the one to answer. “What—what’s tonight?”

“Night of Champions.” She then goes on to explain. “It’s one of our annual wrestling events. Naomi and I are competing.”

Curious, Solana turns to Roman. “Are you fighting?” 

Jimmy, however, is the one to answer. “Soso, Big Dog don’t do these events no more. Not very often anyway, but he’ll be there.”

“Can I come?” Solana directs her question to Roman, knowing that it will be his call. He eyes her unexpectedly. 

“You want to?”

She nods, referring to the group. “I—I wanna see them fight.”

It also feels like the right thing to do, to support the two women who’ve been nothing but supportive of her since day one. Even Jimmy and Jey with their often inappropriate comments about her body and continuous praise over her cooking abilities. It’s still always been very respectful in a strange sort of way.

Roman steps towards her, and Solana finds that it takes a concentrated effort to keep her eyes on his and to not gaze downward. Him being shirtless before her doesn’t help with the attraction she’s still trying to wrap her head around and navigate. 

He lowers his voice, asking, “you sure?”

She’s confused only for a second when she remembers why he seems to be ensuring this is what she wants. This will be the first time Solana has returned to the Warehouse since Grayson and Austin’s attack, since she caused a whole scene that resulted in the whole damn place being shut down and Roman sending a grim message to all.

For a second, she backs away, retreats from her initial desire. Briefly tells herself that this isn’t what she wants, but that other distant voice in the back of her head, not as present or loud, seems to win the battle this time around.

“Yes,” is the final answer she settles on. “I’ll be fine.”

Roman nods, informing. “We leave at 6:30.”

Solana starts to wonder about what this night could entail when Jey suddenly expresses, “It’s kinda nice outside. I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Get in that aquatic cardio.” 

Jimmy also cosigns this after sharing a quick kiss with Naomi. “Oh shit, yeah, lets’ do it

Roman is instantly annoyed, asking with all of the exasperation. “Don’t ya’ll have a pool at your houses?”

“Yeah, but yours is nicer.” Jimmy answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He then looks over at Solana, asking, “you joining us, Soso?”

And that, not the idea of returning to the place where she was almost attacked, is what brings on the heavier anxiety. Once upon a time, Solana loved the pool. Swimming with her mom on hot, summer scorching days used to be some of her favorite memories. Now, those memories are plagued with flashbacks of being held under water, a form of torture implemented by her brother.

“N–no.” Solana catches Roman’s gaze on her, the way his eyes dip to her running her fingers against the sides of her workout pants. “I—ummm—I’m going into work for a little bit today, so I should get ready to go.”

Roman speaks up first, skeptical.  “I didn’t know you were going in today.”

“I have to take care of something.”

Solana being vague is new, it’s unfamiliar, and it doesn’t feel the best to lie to him in a sense. Even if it’s less a lie and more a vague answer. 

There is something she needs to take care of. She just has no desire or even ability to tell him just what she needs to take care of, because that would mean she has to tell him the why, and that is something she’s never discussed with anyone and has no desire ever to.

________

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you as much. Life has been….very confusing and different, but not bad. I think….I think I like living here.

I like Bayley and Naomi. They’re so nice to me. I think you would like them too. Bayley is Mexican, so we talk in Spanish sometimes, and I love that because it reminds me of us, mama, all our conversations and writings.

Jimmy and Jey, Roman’s cousins, make me laugh. They’re also nice to me, and they really like my cooking, your cooking. I still use a lot of the recipes you taught me.

I finally have a dog, mami! Her name is Dulce. She’s so sweet and little and adorable. Roman got her for me. 

Roman…

He’s not what I expected. I don’t….I don’t understand why he’s nice to me. Cause that’s what it is. That much I’ve finally realized. He’s….nice to me. 

I’ve never had a man be nice to me. 

We had….something happen a week ago. I still don’t really know how to describe it, just that he was touching me, not even inappropriately. And I think…..I think I liked it, but then I got scared because it was like….it was like it wasn’t him touching me. It was them. 

And I….I hate that. I hate it because it’s miserable feeling this way. Wanting something but not wanting it. Being scared of something but wanting it. Desiring to be close to someone but not wanting that either.

I feel so torn sometimes. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about that book the detective gave me after it happened. There’s gotta be a reason I kept it all these years. I think….I think I want to read it.

I don’t know what to expect, and I’m nervous because I don’t like thinking about it, but I can’t, I don’t, want to keep living like this.

I can’t.

________

When Solana asked to attend Night of Champions, she was thinking it would be similar to WarGames. A foolish assumption. It is in the sense that the arena area is packed, not a single seat unoccupied, the boisterous sound of loud chatter and music serving as a backdrop against said chatter. That’s all the same and unchanged.

What is different and what Solana should have thought about was the fact that the two women who made her feel so comfortable last time won’t be there this time, because they’re competing. And so are the twins. 

And Nicki is apparently upset with Jey—a recurrent theme, it seems—so she also won’t be present.

That leaves one person.

Roman.

Solana didn’t think about the fact that she’d be seated with Roman. It’s not as nerve-racking as it could be, as it probably would have been almost three months ago when this whole new, unexpected chapter of her life began. 

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

She doesn’t miss how Roman’s grip on her hand remains firm on hers from the moment he helps her out the SUV, his eyes again taking her in the same way he did when she met him back in his office to tell him she was ready to go.

Solana initially felt unsure of herself given the fact that Naomi and Bayley could only pick out her outfit, shoes, and accessories for the night but couldn’t actually help her get ready given the fact that they were competing. Solana struggled to navigate her hair, as always, pinning it up on her head, and her makeup definitely isn’t as nice as the night of WarGames, but it mostly covers up her facial scar, and that’s all that matters.

Still, she must not look completely awful because Roman did not hesitate to give her a slow one over followed by a muttered “damn” and more vocalized, “fuck, you look good.”

She’s starting to lose count of how many times he’s said that now, and each new occurrence still gives her the same butterflies as the first time.

Roman escorts them to their seats, the twins and Paul already being present. Jimmy is the first to speak, whistling loudly.

“Damn, Soso. How we supposed to fight and you distracting us looking all fine and shit?”

“If you want to live and make it to the actual fight, you’ll shut the fuck up.” It’s hard for Solana to tell just when Roman is being completely honest with his cousins or just deadly honest with his cousins. 

This is one of those moments. 

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know what else to say, what kind of response is appropriate to something that isn’t as so.

Roman then motions for Solana to sit down and easily props his big body down in the seat right next to her. Their arms are nearly touching, but she tries not to think of that. Tries to distract herself by asking the twins, “shouldn’t you be in the locker room?”

“Naw, we fight toward the end of the night, so we like to assess with Roman till then.”

“Assess?”

While Jey was the one to provide the initial answer, Jimmy handles the clarification. “You gon be a member of the Warehouse, you gotta earn that shit. That means doing your thing in the ring. You ain’t cutting it, you out.”

Solana nods, quietly. It makes sense. Roman seems like a man with high standards. “So…you all have the final say?”

Jimmy takes a sip of his beer, shaking and nodding his head toward his cousin. “Naw, that’s all Big Dog.”

Solana glances at her husband who’s focused not necessarily on the conversation at hand but the preparation for what’s sure to be an eventful night. 

“If you don’t mind, My Tribal Chief is trying to focus here.” Paul’s voice, equally nice as it is nasty, reminds her of his presence. For some reason, she’s surprised by said presence, though she shouldn’t be. It’s clear the Wise Man is an important asset to Roman. 

“Whassup, my dogs!”

Just then a lanky man comes over to the group. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that says ‘honorary uce’ and has wild red hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. Solana takes a second to look at him, finding him strangely familiar. It’s then she realizes that he fought with Roman, Solo, and the twins during WarGames.

He goes for some kind of special handshake with Jimmy, then Jey, and finally Roman who looks like he’s contemplating murder rather than wanting to return the greeting. He quickly plays it off, “that is well—okay my tribal chief, and—wow—” Him turning to Solana, finally noticing and acknowledging her, is an experience for the both of them. She notices his initial gaze sets on her chest which is uncomfortable but not entirely unexpected given the style of her dress. Still, she shifts in her seat, uneasy with the attention. “Those are—-ummm—” His eyes go wide, as he moves to backtrack on an obvious Freudian slip. “I mean, it’s uh, very nice to meet you, ma’am, or Mrs. Reigns, or your highness. Whichever you prefer is a-okay with—“

“Sami.”

His shoulders hunch and head drops in shame, like he already knows what’s coming. “Yes, Tribal Chief?”

“Go sit somewhere else.”

This Sami person doesn’t even hesitate, confirming he already knew he fucked up in the less than five minutes he was present. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Solana watches, still partially confused but also kind of amused as he wastes no time in departing. 

Paul then leans over, chatting away, “I told you, my Tribal Chief, I never liked Shmuel. He’s always been so beneath you. I understand he makes easy collateral, but—“

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

“But……” Solana looks over at Paul. His expression is one of devastation, like he’s just been told he had six months to live. “I—I always sit with you for Night of Champ—“

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“I’m not gon tell you again.” Roman finally looks over at his closest advisor, forcefully enunciating and instructing, “go.”

Similar to Sami, the Wise Man walks off with his tail between his legs, leaving just Solana, Roman, and the twins. 

She has no idea where Solo is. 

“See, now you ain’t even have to do all that, Big Dog. You be getting yourself all upset over nothing. You need to start doing some deep breathing or shit, then maybe you could get off them high blood pressure pills.” 

It’s that last part that Solana zones in on, that makes her turn to Roman, “you have high blood pressure?”

He lifts his eyes, dismissing, “it’s nothing.”

“Can’t—can’t that be dangerous?” It’s not necessarily a question she needs him to answer. Solana is well read on a variety of subjects, especially subjects pertaining to physical health. High blood pressure can mess with a lot of things, a lot of organs. Eyes. Brain.

Heart

Jimmy is the one to chime in, asking with that typical tone of humor. “Soso, you do know what he does for a living right?”

But, it’s hard for her to find said humor when all she’s thinking about now is how certain meals she’s prepared for him could maybe not be the best for his high blood pressure. How she could be exacerbating that.

Feeling pressured by her inner monologue, she offers, “I can change how I cook for you.” And she can. She probably will, making a mental note to peruse through her mom’s recipe books that would be more aligned with the type of diet he probably needs. “I know there’s certain things you probably shouldn’t eat—”

“Solana.” He interrupts, but it’s not with that same irritation he had towards Sami and Paul. “I’m fine. My numbers weren't that bad. The doctor is just being over cautious.”

She wants to believe him, wants to not be as…bothered by this as she is, but something tells her Roman isn’t unlike most men who downplay these sorts of things.

Letting the conversation go, her determination to help him maintain his health remains. 

The conversation shifts to a dialogue between the twins and Roman, the three men conversing in Samoan. She doesn’t mind this, as it also allows her the space to catch the gaze of Bayley and Naomi who look freaking amazing in their gear.

“Soso.”

“I swear to God, if you call her that one more fucking time—”

Jey, possibly foolishly, waves off Roman’s threat. “You understand Yeet, right?”

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

“Yeet,” Jimmy says it too, like it’s as basic a word as they come. “Our motto.”

“I—” Honesty is a bit easier with her husband’s cousins. “N–no.”

“Man,” Jey makes a sound with his teeth and jumps right into the explanation. “It’s like a way of life. Like, you yeet when life going good—”

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

Jimmy and Jey playing off of each other for their presentation is entertaining, at best, but it doesn’t leave her any less confused than she was just a minute ago.

“I—I still don’t get it.”

And that, for the first time, is when Solana hears Roman laugh. It’s not something she ever thought possible, but it’s there, his handsome face turned into an amusing expression as he expresses vindication. “I told you it was fucking stupid.”

“See, I thought we was close, Soso. I thought we was becoming family and shit, but I see you a hater like your husband.”

At that, Jey punches his brother on the arm, reminding with a rough mutter, “man, she be cooking, don’t be fucking up our good thing.”

“Aww shit.” Jimmy quickly moves to backtrack. “I mean, I could see your point.”

Conversation continues as such until the start of the night, Solana watching as the three men around her easily shift into an almost business mode. Their gazes are almost intense, watching closely as matches begin.

Solana partially expected to have to sit and remain quiet for the evening, but certain moves, similar to what Naomi and Bayley have taught her, catch her attention. And it must show, because Solana finds herself occasionally being asked by Roman if she has any questions or if she understands why a fighter did a certain mood.

Some she can answer. Some she cannot. 

So she asks him.

And he answers all of them, clearly, concisely, in a way she can understand.

If Roman is irritated by any of her questions, he does a damn good job not showing as such. And to her credit, she does her best to take a guess vs asking outright with certain things, pulling from her time with Bayley and Naomi. 

And in certain matches, she’s fully immersed in watching their expertise that questions aren’t even a thing. Like the tag team match between two of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen, Jade and Bianca, as Roman called them. Same with Naomi and Bayley who independently show her a side of their ruthlessness she figured existed but hadn’t seen firsthand until tonight.

“Do you all learn how to fight when you’re kids?”

“More or less,” Roman answers, and Solana has a hard time not staring, not being caught up by how handsome this man really is. “This life….it’s kill or be killed. So to not be killed, you learn how to fight. How to survive.”

Survive…

Solana has such a complicated relationship with that otherwise simple word. 

“How come….how come you don’t fight as much?” She’s wondered about this, come up with speculation but would like to know for certain, especially as he seems to be in a relatively decent mood.

Like most things, he keeps his answer nice, simple, and vague. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

“Did–did you?” He looks over at her, and warmth rises back as she tries to clarify. “At some point, I mean.”

Again, it’s a one-worded response. “Yes.”

She’s not entirely sure just what he’s saying ‘yes’ to, but a full blown out explanation was never expected. He doesn’t seem like the type. But something more would have been….nice. Granted, Solana realizes she’s probably pushing her luck in asking all these questions anyway and sits back in her seat, relegating herself to focusing on the current match.

The chill of the arena makes its reminder yet again as Solana crosses her arms over her body, trying to warm herself. The man beside herself notices this, accurately assessing, “you’re cold.”

True to her nature, Solana shakes her head, downplaying the fact that she is very much cold. “I’m fine.”

Downplaying or being outright dishonest is clearly something Solana would do well to push away, because it seems like this man is capable of seeing right through any and all lies.

Roman shifts forward in his seat and removes his jacket, reaching it to her. “Here.”

Rejection would be rude. It would also make her feel even more bad than she already does at inconveniencing him. Still, her options are really singular, meaning there are no others. Only one.

Mustering a small smile, she accepts his objectively kind gesture, sliding her arms through and adjusting as best she can given their size difference. Warmth overcomes her as well as the scent of his collage, something masculine, almost minty. It fits him.

Silence befalls them for a comfortable while before Solana excuses herself to use the bathroom, Roman only nodding in acknowledgment. 

It’s in walking down the hall that Solana sees Jade and Bianca chatting away, admiring their championship belts. The taller of the two, Jade, happens to glance her way and smiles, exclaiming, “Girl, you are wearing the hell out of that dress!”

“Absolutely killing it,” Bianca also compliments, her smile just as genuine and affable. 

Solana is certain she’s just staring dumbly for a good couple of seconds, because such a compliment from two objectively stunning women towards her was the last thing she expected. 

Descending off her shock, she offers an equally genuine smile and expression of appreciation. “Thank you so much.”

The compliment keeps that smile planted on her face. It’s so unexpected but deeply appreciated.  

Solana dries her hands and tosses the used paper towels in the trash. It’s a brief glance at herself in the mirror that serves as the start of the slippery slope, landing her back in a brief state of uncertainty. The dress is so revealing, much more revealing than anything she could or would ever wear. But it’s hard to think or sit too much in that discomfort when the night has consisted of several compliments. Sami, Jimmy, Jey, now Bianca and Jade. Not to mention the biggest one, or maybe the one that gives her the most butterflies, coming from Roman. 

“Fuck, you look good.”

Her smile shifts from something more silly to something a bit more bashful, her cheeks warming at someone as handsome and powerful as Roman Reigns thinking that she looks good.

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

A toilet flushes from the only other taken stall, and the door opening reveals the perfect reason why Solana should have just went straight back to join Roman instead of having a mental discourse in the bathroom.

Samantha’s long, shapely legs are the first thing Solana notices along with the way her dress melts to her toned, curvy body. She looks good, and she has to know that she looks good. A woman like her probably has men lined up by the dozen, Roman being at the front of that line. 

Samantha’s dark lips form into a smirk as she walks over to the sink. “Surprised to see you tonight.” She moves to wash her hands. “After that not so little incident a while back, I figured that was the last day you’d step foot in here.”

Solana swallows. She’s managed to not think about that day since it happened. Samantha bringing it up is definitely salt on an open wound. “I—umm.”

“Nice dress. A lil snug though. Maybe go up a size next time?” Her voice, so sweet and sugary, is also venomous and knowing. “Or two.”

Solana’s hands naturally move to her stomach, forearms trying to block the part of her body she hates the most and is certain Samantha is primarily referring to.

“Sage, right?” She doesn’t give Solana a chance to respond. “Let me give you some advice. Woman to woman.”

Something tells Solana she’s not going to like this advice. 

Samantha dries her hands and walks up to Solana. “I know you’re Roman’s wife, but you can’t seriously think that means anything to him, right? It’s just a title, and he’ll defend you only because it’s defending his pride.” Solana tries to not put too much into Samantha’s hurtful words, but it’s hard not to when Solana knows Roman continues to be intimate with this woman, even after their marriage. She can’t blame him for that, though, especially since he’s definitely not getting it from her. Still, it does sting a bit. “Trust me, I’ve known him very well since we were in high school.” Samantha smirks, chuckling. “So, I would know.”

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

The last voice Solana expected to enter the conversation was that of Nia’s. But sure enough, Roman’s’ cousin stands near the bathroom door, arms crossed over her body. 

Samantha’s expression sours tremendously as she icily greets the other woman, bigger, stronger, maybe even prettier. “Nia.”

Nia ignores the greeting and comes to stand near Solana, immediately going in on the slender women. “If you know him so well and you supposedly mean that much to him, how come it’s not you with a wedding ring on your finger?” Solana says nothing, keeping her gaze down, but it doesn’t stop her from also thinking about that very valid question. Just why didn’t Roman marry Samantha? “Or better yet,” Solana glancing back up allows her to see Nia’s cruel smile. “Why is it Solana’s name he said when he was fucking you?”

What?

Solana is visibly shaken by that because where in the hell did that even come from? There’s no way that can be true. No way Roman could be in bed with someone like Samantha and say her name. 

But Samantha is visibly disturbed, lip almost curling into an almost snarl as she spits, “fuck you, Nia.”

“I’d call you Solana too, so I don’t think you’d want that.”

Samantha storms out of the bathroom without another word leaving Solana alone with Nia, Solana who is still trying to process what was just said and finds herself asking Nia. 

“Is—is that true? Did you—did you really hear about Roman—ummm—”

Typically, Solana would keep her questions in the safety of her mind, but this…..this feels almost impossible to not seek clarification on. 

“You know he’s my cousin, right?” Nia looks visibly disgusted but still answers her question. “I would never make something up like that about family. Samantha is a blabber mouth that doesn’t realize she shares her shit with that dumbass best friend of hers, Tiffy, and the whole town knows.”

The answer is appreciated, but it still leaves Solana with so many questions. 

“I—I don’t understand.” Again, it’s something meant to stay inside but manages to slip past the cracks. 

“God, you are naive.” Nia rolls her eyes and explains while crossing her arms. “Sweetie, if a man is balls deep in Woman A and says Woman B’s name, Woman A is not who he wants.” 

That seems almost inconceivable to Solana. For Roman to think she looks good and maybe even consider her beautiful is one thing, but for him to desire her in that way is something entirely different.

She doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“Don’t let that skinny bitch get to you.” Nia seems eager to switch the conversation to something different. “She’s a pussy. All bark and no bite. Remember, you have the ring on your finger. You just have to put her in her place one good time, and she’ll leave you be. And if not, let Roman know. He’d never hurt or kill her himself, but he’d definitely ask me to, and truth be told, I’ve wanted to snap that bitch’s neck since high school, so you’d be doing everyone a favor.”

Solana can’t allow herself, or maybe more so doesn’t have the capacity, to think about that right now. She’s still trying to get a grip on chapter one. Still, she offers a quiet ‘thank you’ to Nia, turning to leave when the taller woman says her name. Solana turns back around. “Yes?”

Nia sighs and rolls her eyes. “I know you think I hate you, but I don’t. I may hate how soft you are, but I don’t hate you.” Nia then smirks with an almost playful add on of, “I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

________

As expected, Roman is immediately asking what took so long the second Solana is back in her seat. 

Her excuse is weak. She tells him that there was a line, but it’s the best thing she can come up with on the spot. His expression is all the answer she needs that he certainly doesn’t believe her but will let it go.

For now. 

The rest of the night seems to be more of a blur, Solana now more consumed with trying to wrap her head around this newest bit of information. 

The twins end up finishing off the event with a brutal but successful match where they, as expected, retain their tag team titles.  

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman. 

And outside of some constructive criticism towards Jey and Jimmy, Roman expressed his desire to leave as soon as they got cleaned up, which took less time than she expected. He’s guiding them, her, out to leave, her hand still in his, when a thickly accented voice calls the attention of the man beside her. 

“Roman Reigns.”

Solana can barely turn around to the source of the voice when Roman’s muscled arm is stretched across her body, moving her behind him, his big body serving as an impenetrable shield.

Because of their height difference, Solana can’t see a whole lot outside of the instant shift of security and even the twins toward whoever this person is. 

“How wonderful for you to bless us with your presence so soon after WarGames.” The man scoffs, clearly trying to bait Roman. “What is this, the second appearance in how many years? Hell hath fuckin’ froze over.”

Solana catches a brief glance of the mystery man and gasps. He has an imposing figure, similar to Roman but there’s something cold about him, something….sinister. 

“How dare you acknowledge the Tribal Chief—” Roman lifts his hand to silence Paul. 

Roman simply states, “talk.” 

“You know what I want, Reigns.” Solana hears a footstep and notices how Roman makes a subtle movement that results in the twins also moving closer towards her, shielding her from this man. “You don’t deserve that title. You may have been a fighter then, but you ain’t now. You’re about the Bloodline, and I respect that, mate, but the Undisputed title deserves to be with someone who defends it more than once a fucking year.”

“So what, you think you the one who gon’ take it? Man, we outta kill your ass right now for talking out your neck like that to our Tribal Chief!”

Solana hates being unable to see Roman, to see his face, to be able to gauge and read his facial expressions. He’s an enigma of a man, typically oscillating between irritated, angry, and indifferent, but not having the option altogether to know where he currently lands is bothersome.  Especially with what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do something.”

Solana freezes. That….that can’t be good.

“You standing up on me. You make a good tough guy face. Do something.”

Solana’s fingers tap against her side, that familiar knotting in her stomach returning. She glances over at Jey who seems to also be a bit confused by Roman’s response.

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

Jimmy speaks up this time, rough voice quiet but urgent. “Roman, we got Solana here—”

“Come on. Make it happen. What’s different? Ain’t nothing changed. Think back to the last time you challenged me.” Solana hates when Roman moves away from her, because it means he’s a step closer to this man, this man who seems determined to pick a fight with the Tribal Chief and may get just that. “Think about it. I whooped you then. I’ll whoop you now.” Roman speaks with such a confidence about him, the most violent, straightforward promise of sure brutality she’s ever heard from a man. “Ain’t nothing changed.”

Solana isn’t necessarily thinking about what she’s doing when she suddenly moves herself in between Roman and this man who’s apparently hellbent on getting her husband riled up. It’s another unconscious act as she plants her palms against his chest, both relieved and nervous by how his gaze instantly drops to hers.

Solana licks her lips and finds herself pleading in an unexpectedly calm yet typically soft voice. “Let’s just go.” His initial expression of fury and simmering anger seems to lessen the longer he looks at her, and Solana adds on, desperately. “Please.”

This act of boldness is completely unplanned and entirely stems from Solana unable to stop thinking about how Roman being so upset all the time can’t be good for his blood pressure. It can’t be good for his health. 

And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, that bothers her. It concerns her. 

Him not being healthy concerns her.

What does not surprisingly concern her is when Roman moves his hands down to her hips and almost gently moves her to the side, forcing her hands to drop. She expects him to lunge at the other man or to scold her for interfering, but he does neither.

He steps toward him and simply states with all the coldness, “you’ve got your match, but I set the date when I want it.” Solana’s more or less holding her breath, waiting for Roman to strike the man, or worse. “But know this, McIntyre, you step in that ring with me again, I’m not just ending your career this time, I’m ending your fucking life.”

Roman’s threat sends uneasy chills down her spine. There’s no mistaking Roman’s promise, something she’s certain he will be sure to fulfill.

He then takes her hand again and moves her to the side opposite of the man who looks like he hates Roman as much as Roman probably hates him. Solana is almost entirely eclipsed by Roman’s big body as he walks her past the ordeal.

The car ride is a bit uncomfortably silent, Solana recognizing that Roman is still seething from the exchange but most likely waiting until she’s out of his vicinity to express that rage. 

But, it's when she’s walking back in the house after letting Dulce do her business that Roman catches and speaks to her. 

“Solana.” He’s leaning back against the counter, big arms crossed over his muscular body. He’s so….big. “What happened when you went to the bathroom tonight?”

She can’t be surprised, can’t feel caught off guard by his question. It’s still not something she necessarily wants to talk about or knows how to discuss, but she’ll do the best she can. 

“I ran into Samantha.” Taking a deep breath, she tries her hardest to keep it vague but still an acceptable answer. “I don’t—I don’t think she likes me.”

At that, Roman nearly growls, “what did that bitch say to you?”

Solana winces at his tone. “It wasn’t that bad…”

He’s quick with the dismissal and redirection. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“She just—she just talked about my outfit, that—that was it, because Nia came in there, and well, I don’t—I think Nia might hate her more than she hates me.”

Roman sighs, running his hand over his face. “I’ll handle Samantha.” Before Solana can protest, he adds, “Nia doesn’t hate you.”

This brings a small smile to Solana’s face. “That's what she said.”

Roman also looks slightly amused by this, studying her for a second. “Solana.” The surprises keep on coming, because he takes an unexpected turn in the conversation. “I almost lost my temper tonight.”

This….this feels true. His issuance of threats were delivered in an almost calm manner, but it was more deceptive than anything. Like a setup for violence that was potentially about to unfold if she didn’t interfere.

Still, nothing ended up happening, so it doesn’t make sense for him to act like it did.

“But, you didn’t,” she points out quietly, offering a bit of an olive branch. “And….you were upset.” 

Solana would maybe argue that he’s always in varying states of upsetness, but that’s not the point of the conversation at hand. 

“I have no shortage of enemies, Solana.” His voice takes on a darker, almost subdued tone. It makes her previously amused expression slip into something more somber. “But, I need you to know that I would never do anything that would put you in danger. Drew wanted to issue his challenge. That’s it. He wasn’t going to do anything, because he wants an audience for that. I had it under control.” Solana isn’t questioning that nor did she plan to, but Roman’s next question definitely takes her for a loop. “Were you scared?”

It’s a valid, understandable question that she didn’t think about until this moment. There was anxiety, maybe some element of fear but also concern, so she decides to play down the first two. 

“I wasn’t scared.” It was more concern than fear, which, in her mind, are two different things. “Just….confused about what was happening.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His dismissal is nicer than what anyone else would receive. “Of me, Solana. Were you scared of me?”

Another valid question that she’s actually been thinking about on and off for the past few weeks. Solana would like to consider herself not naive to a lot of things about this life that she was born into. She knows that most of the people who surround her are killers. And Roman is no different. The king of that, maybe.

But…..

But, he’s done nothing thus far to make her ever believe she would ever be subjected to that side of him. If anything, he’s worked to stress and help her understand that she’d never be hurt by him. And adding up all of the things he’s done to support said message, Solana feels it only appropriate to be honest with him. 

About more than just his question.

“When—-when the twins asked earlier today if I wanted to go in the pool, I got nervous because—-” Solana displays her textbook signs of discomfort with the stammering and playing with her fingers but still manages to get out what she wants to share. “Wes, he used to…..hold my head under water until I almost passed out.” Solana looks away for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “That……that’s who I’m afraid of.” Solana manages to set her gaze back on Roman, almost confidently assuring, “I’m not scared of you, Roman.”

He steps toward her, and Solana’s eyes never leave his, mindful of the way his hand lifts, tensing when he rests it against her face, palming her cheek almost gently. Solana stiffens but easily shifts into something not calm but not on edge either. “You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, of anyone. I won’t let anyone else ever hurt you again.”

And for the first time, she believes him without the speck of doubt and uncertainty in the backseat. Solana has seen nothing from the man before her to indicate otherwise. She doesn’t know a lot of things regarding him, regarding them, regarding just why he’s so hellbent on defending her, but one thing she’s realized is that he’s intentional and determined with his dedication to protect her.

This is similar, very similar, too similar to that night where her fears got the best of her, where she was unable to overpower the discomfort and fear. But, this isn’t that night, and Solana doesn’t feel that building dread in the core of her stomach. It could be the fact that it’s only one hand on her, cupping her face. Nowhere else.

It could even be a very early sign that maybe, just maybe, that book she was given so long ago really does have the healing properties someone from so long ago once promised. 

There’s even her conversation with Nia from earlier that sits in the back of her mind, the undeniable confirmation of Roman’s attraction to her. Enough to where he would say her name during that.

Whatever the case, she doesn’t move away, just nods quietly, slowly moving away from him. 

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

Roman says nothing, also nodding as acknowledgment, watching as Solana grabs Dulce and disappears out of his sight but not the front of his mind.

________

The Reigns estate is as spacious as it is grandiose. There are several ways and paths to reach a destination. 

So, Roman doesn’t have to pass Solana’s room to reach his bedroom. There’s an alternative route in coming from where he was working, but he decides this specific way for reasons he’s not entirely sure of.

It ends up being a good decision because it’s in walking past her door that he hears low scraping against said door. Instantly, he knows it’s Dulce clearly needing to go outside. And she confirms as such with her soft whimpering. 

Rolling his eyes, Roman opens the door just enough for Dulce to run out, stopping when she sees it’s him. He glances at the bed to see Solana sleeping, open book on her chest, indicating she fell asleep while reading.

Dulce whines again, and he chides quietly, “be quiet before you wake her up.”

Dulce’s ears go down as Roman picks up the puppy that’s still too little to walk up and down the steps, hence needing human transportation. It’s annoying, but he brings her down the steps and out the backyard. 

Settling her down, he instructs, “go on. Do whatever you gotta do.”

He’ll give the dog some credit where credit is due. She’s far more obedient than he expected for a puppy, because in less than 10 minutes, she’s emptied her bladder and is being carried back to Solana’s room. 

Roman is careful to lay her little ass back in her bed, aware of her bristle looking legs that would probably break with one bad drop. 

Rising back to his full height, he catches Solana turning on her side, the shift in position causing the book to slip and almost fall out the bed, but Roman is fast, catching it before the crash and potential disturbance can wake her up.

Naturally, he glances at the front cover, noticing the age of the book. But the aging look doesn’t mean shit to him when he sees the title and a piece of paper that clearly has Solana’s handwriting. He doesn’t read that, wanting to respect her privacy, but he definitely reads the title, and it instantly shifts his entire mood. 

The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse

It shifts his mood from his default state or irritation to quiet rage. 

There’s only one reason she would be reading this book, working out of this book. And it’s not that he didn’t already know she’d been violated in one way or another. Her medical records confirmed as such.

But, he was thinking she was a teenager, not any better, but definitely not a fucking child.

Someone hurt her when she was still a child, a literal goddamn kid, and this is something Roman cannot find it in him to avoid investigating. He’s always been a man uncomfortable with unanswered questions, and there are no shortage of them in regards to Solana. Not that he would ever put her in a position to answer them. No. He wouldn’t do that to her, would never make her share something like that with him.

But, he does know someone else he can demand answers from. 

Two people, actually. One of them being shit out of luck after narrowly avoiding Roman’s wrath from earlier today in learning that he fucking tortured Solana.

Roman carefully places the book on her nightstand and makes sure Dulce is still in her bed on the other side of Solana’s before quietly closing the door.

Roman is down the hall, powerful strides taking him to his room as he pulls out his phone, dialing the one person he knows for a fact will answer his call at any time. Hitting dial and switching it to speaker, Roman tosses his phone on the bed to get dressed. 

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

Roman jumps right into it. “Meet me at the Miller house. Get your brothers.”

Solo only pauses for a second, answering in that stoic voice, “we’ll be there in 30.”

Not good enough. 

“Make it 20.” 

________

As expected, Roman is met at the Miller house by his cousins, all three.

Slamming the car door shut, Roman hears Jimmy yawning loudly. “Man, why the hell is we here?”

Ignoring his older brother, Solo straightens his stance and informs, “I had Pearce disable the security system.”

“Good.” It’s the fact that Solo already knew to do so without being told. Moments like this is when Roman knows he made the right decision promoting and moving Solo up the ranks. He’s more than proved himself.

“I have questions. Miller has answers.” Roman’s answer there is intentionally vague. Solana’s trauma is no one’s business but her own, and just because he is also aware doesn’t mean he needs to broadcast it. “And Solana told me today her brother used to waterboard her.”

“Waterboarding? Like actual fucking torture?” This information seems to awaken both the twins, eliciting angry reactions. “What the fuck is wrong with his ass?”

“We killing them, right?” Jey, forever the hothead and also relatively equal with Roman in terms of how quickly he travels from zero to one-hundred, is the first to ask the most obvious question.

“No. Not tonight. That would be too easy.” And it would. Roman meant that shit when he said he wanted their asses to suffer. “But that doesn’t mean we have to make living easy for them.”

They don’t deserve to live, let alone living easy lives. Not when they’ve done everything seemingly possible to make Solana’s miserable.

Roman then looks towards the twins, instructing, “take care of the brother.” It’s not a necessary directive, but he doesn’t hesitate to add, “make him fucking suffer.”

He then motions for Solo to follow him, the men headed toward the house as Roman swears out loud, “Xavier is mine.” 

Roman steps back as Solo waits zero time in shattering the large window in the living room, providing an entrance for the men. Roman grabs his gun, nodding for the twins to move first, followed by Solo, each man armed with a gun. It’s unnecessary, Roman is certain as they’re more likely to find father and son in the midst of illicit acts vs prepared for the onslaught headed their way. 

Up the stairs and on the second floor, Roman quietly motions for them to split up, Solo and the twins to the right while he moves to the left, the most likely location of the master.

Solo seems to give him an uneasy expression, but Roman simply nods and heads toward his target.

Xavier is his.

The combination of the brothers works just as Roman predicted, them successfully locating the brother’s bedroom, confirmed by his horrified shout of ‘what the fuck! 

It’s followed up with a shout of pain and Jey yelling “Get your bitch ass up!” and “Solo, fill up the tub!”

Pleased, Roman is standing directly outside of Xavier’s door when the older man rips the door open, face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger. That quickly morphs into fear when he realizes just who is responsible for this attack. 

Roman brings the gun across upside Miller’s head, watching the man fall down and writhe in pain, holding his hand against his now bleeding head. 

Undeterred, Roman reaches down, yanking the man up by his neck as he jolts his body against the nearest wall. “We need to talk.” Straight to the point and not in the mood for any bullshit this fucker may try to spew his way, Roman demands,  “I want to know what the fuck happened to my wife.”

And there’s a brief but telltale sign that Xavier knows exactly what he’s referring to without Roman even needing to elaborate. 

That only pisses him off even more. 

Still, Xavier stutters, shaking his head, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman gives a bitter smile, shaking his head and scratching his beard. It’s the last thing he’s certain Xavier sees before Roman again has him up by the collar of his pajama shirt. 

“You really want to play these fucking games with me?” It’s a no. It’s a hell no, but Xavier insulting Roman’s intelligence by lying to him indicates the opposite of no. So, Roman will treat him as such. “Who the fuck touched Solana?”

His question is followed up by screaming coming from down the hall, the beautiful sound of a piece of shit getting exactly what he deserves. 

“What? Ain’t so tough now, little bitch! Like to beat on women but a pussy when it comes to fighting another man!”

And while it could bring a smile to Roman’s face, Xavier looks horrified in hearing Jimmy’s taunts. Instantly, he’s pleading, pathetic and pitiful, “pl—please.”

“I’d torture and kill that bitch right in front of you tonight if I could.” It pisses Roman off to no end how this man can care so much about his demented son but not give a flying fuck about his innocent daughter. “Now, answer my fucking question, who touched Solana?”

Again, Xavier decides to test Roman’s patience, offering unasked information. “She—she was a virgin before she married you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about her being virgin or not!” She could still be a virgin and have been touched. But truth be told, that shit’s never mattered to him anyway. Virgin or no virgin, it’s always been an irrelevant deciding factor to who he took to bed. “Tell me what happened to her or I’ll blow that bitch son of yours fucking brains out right in front of you—”

Roman pulls the gun from out of the back of his pants, knowing full and well that while he would love to empty the entirety of it in the scum before him, it’s better served torturing him in another sort of manner.

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

“Alright, alright!” Xavier finally caves, sweat bubbling across his wrinkled forehead. “She was raped, alright? Two men broke into the house when she was 12 and attacked her. Beat her real bad. They—they never found them. Okay? That—that’s the truth. That’s what happened.”

No. Not fucking okay. Nothing is fucking okay. Roman wanted answers, felt like he needed them, but knowing the truth, it doesn’t do shit but paint his vision red. 

He knew something happened to her. 

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped. 

Beaten. 

Twelve.

And then another thought hits him, the absolute terror on her face that day when she was faced with what should be the most simplest thing for a person: going into their childhood bedroom. 

Roman remembers her fear, the dried blood, the scratches on the wall. 

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

The thought of a child being hurt at all has never sat right with him, but to be hurt in that way. As a child, and for that child to have been Solana. 

He’s fucking breathing rage. 

“Where the fuck were you, huh?” Roman jerks his body back against the wall, half ready to break this fucker’s neck. “Answer me!”

“I wasn’t home!” Xavier’s sweating has progressed into droplets from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose and shirt. “I—I was out on a fishing trip with Wes.”

A fishing trip…..

This man was out enjoying fucking nature with his dimwitted offspring while his daughter was at home alone fighting for her fucking life.

“You left a 12 year old home alone?” It keeps getting fucking worse. “How long was she alone!” Roman is fully prepared to risk snapping this motherfucker’s neck when he spits out a desperate answer.

“A week. It was just a week.” And if it makes a fucking difference, he desperately adds on, “I—I’d done it before, and she was fine.”

Xavier is either stupid or very stupid, because Roman can’t conceptualize how this imbecile would think the additional information makes it any better. 

Solana was hurt.

She was hurt in the worst way possible, and it’s all his fault. 

With all of the aggression in his body, Roman throws the piece of shit across the room, intentionally aiming for the glass coffee table that instantly shatters under the weight of his fat ass.

Without a second of fucking hesitation, Roman fires two shots directly into Xavier’s body, one in his right hand and the other in his left foot. Xavier’s shouts of pain do little to dull the unadulterated rage coursing through Roman’s body.

Shouts morph into tiny, pathetic whimpers as Roman slowly walks through the broken glass, tossing his gun to the side as he pulls out the brass knuckles in his back pocket. 

“I told Solana I wouldn’t kill you until she gave me the word, and I’m not going to take that from her.” He crouches down besides the now crying older man, crying in the way Roman is certain Solana did when she was alone and helpless. His fury is practically bubbling over now as he coldly vows, “but that doesn't mean I can’t make your life a living fucking hell until then.”

________

Roman walks back into the house with a weight he can’t shake, even with the brutal carnage he unleashed on the Miller household, leaving father and son on the brink of death. That type of violent release typically abates his anger, and it did diminish a lot of it, seeing that piece of shit pummeled into a bloody, broken mess.

But Roman is still plagued with thoughts of the hell Solana endured living in that household. To be attacked in that way in her own home, in her fucking bedroom, it makes Roman want to get right back in his SUV and carry Xavier and his equally piece of shit over the doorstep of death.

But, he couldn’t do that to Solana, take that away from her. He’s just the executioner in this situation. He’ll let the day of reckoning be determined by her because that’s the least she can get. 

Coming straight back home, Roman didn’t bother to stop and get himself cleaned up. His guards have seen much worse, and Solana is asleep, so that’s not a concern either.

But, it is a concern because in an almost scene of deja vu, Solana is most certainly not asleep. She’s sitting on the sofa, Dulce right beside her when she hears his heavy footsteps. 

Roman doesn’t have time to say anything, too stunned by this happening yet again, even later than he’s returned before. 

Why is she up?

Solana jumps up off the sofa and is suddenly standing across from him, her face painted in what’s obviously a moderate to tremendous amount of worry and anxiety. 

But, she isn’t looking at him. Not really. She’s more so focused on the blood stained and splattered clothes that adorn him.

“You’re hurt…..” He’s heard her say it the last two times they were in this type of situation, eerily similar in a lot of ways, but this time….this time is different.

It’s different because she rushes over to him, her hand floating over his chest, one place, two place, another place. Like a plane trying to find a safe space to land, she’s unsure where he’s hurt and clearly overwhelmed by it all.

And then he sees it, the blurry overlay of water over her eyes and the slight tremble of her lip.

Roman steps towards her, trying to be respectful of the distance between them. Her discomfort with touch makes all the sense now. “Please don’t cry.” And this is yet another new, unfamiliar, unexposed territory for him, seeing her so distraught at her belief that he’s been hurt. The way that the thought alone clearly wrecks her.

Roman quickly notices the changing of her breathing pattern, heavier, rhythmic almost. 

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

Realizing this is a matter of de-escalation, he does what’s needed in the moment and brings his hands to her face, cupping her face.

“Solana, breathe, baby.” The term of adoration isn’t even something that really registers with him at the moment, not an intentional addictive or something he gives two fucks about in this moment, really. He’s solely focused on settling the woman in front who’s on the brink of a panic attack.

He can’t see her deal with that again, especially now that he knows just why she had the first one.

Roman has no hesitation in pushing away loose strings of her hair, never once taking his focus off her. “I’m fine, Solana. I’m not hurt. It’s not my blood.” Recognizing she clearly needs to see it, he moves back to lift and toss his shirt on the floor. “See?”

And that seems to do something for her, something to help settle the panic. 

Roman watches her and forces himself not to think about the heat that fills him at her hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s all so innocent. Recognizing her breathing has settled into something less alarming and more familiar, he moves his hand over hers, reiterating once more, “I’m fine.” He waits for her to finish taking a deep breath to ask, “why are you up?”

This has to be the third time Roman has come home at an ungodly hour to find her waiting for him, and he’s trying to figure out what the real reason is. 

She licks her lip, clearly working her way up to a response. “Dulce had to…..had to use the bathroom, and I saw you weren’t here, and you didn’t answer my text.” Roman curses himself. He was so caught in his uproar that he didn’t even bother checking that thing, never expecting for Solana to be the missed notification on his lock screen. “I just…..I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Roman has heard this part before and tries to navigate how he wants to push back on his belief that it can’t be just that, but Solana surprisingly beats him to it. “I get….I get worried when you’re not here at night and—-and I can’t sleep until—-”

“Until I’m back….”

He has a good guess why. She was attacked in the middle of the night, and he’s also pretty certain he remembers reading that the attack that killed her mother also happened at night.

“Solana…..” For the first time in a while, if ever, Roman is active in his attempts to explain this to her as gently as he can. “What I do…who I am…I can’t always be here.”

“I know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to bother you—”

“You could never bother me, okay?” He wipes away more of her tears, hand back to cupping her face, realizing she’s not going to pull away from him this time. He takes full advantage of that. Roman moves his other hand to the small of her back, holding her against him. It’s not missed upon him how she also brings her other free hand to his chest. “But, I always make it back, alright?” She nods, as he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Can’t no man put me down.”

She smiles, a little laugh that does more to him than he’d like to admit, that he feels comfortable with. And this settles him. It settles him more than nearly killing her dad and brother for hurting her, directly and indirectly, did. 

Solana nods, murmuring a quiet, “o–okay.”

He’s studying her. Closely. Maybe more than what’s necessary. It comes from a place of concern, and he’d admit as such. “Are you good now?” 

She nods again, and he believes it enough to let her go, watching her start to walk away when he’s caught off guard again because of her body, so soft and warm, against his again. Her sweet perfume filling his senses, her arms around his neck.

She’s hugging him. Solana is actually hugging him. He can’t remember the last time someone did that shit.

But he doesn’t waste a second of time accepting her embrace that seems to end just as quickly as it began. He can’t be surprised or upset. This is big for her, obviously, and he would never push her past her comfort zone, but he also can’t deny that the absence of her in his arms is noticeable. 

And uncomfortable.

Solana murmurs a rushed goodnight and grabs Dulce to head back up the stairs, Roman eyes never leaving her until she’s completely out of view.

Roman stands there for a few good minutes, unsure of what just happened, working to process the same unfamiliar feelings that coursed through him the last time they had a moment like this. It’s the same as before, just ten times stronger, more intense, more consuming.

Unsure of a lot, two things he knows for asbolute fucking certain:

He’s going to find Solana’s rapists and make them pay for every sick fucking thing they did to her.

There’s not a fucking force on earth that could take this girl away from him.

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

[amourdivine]

💜 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 ♡ 𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑬𝑿𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑫 18+ 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 ♡

Hello lovelies! I hope you’re doing well today! Today, I bring you a different type of reading featuring an extended 18+ version. Since the extended reading option was the winner of my latest poll, I am really happy and excited to release this. Thank you so much for your endless support, I love you guys very much and I hope you’re having a wonderful week! ♡

follow me on my socials. youtube ✨ instagram

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise

how to choose your pile.  take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

♡ ♡ ♡     pick a card masterlist & information

disclaimer. this is a general reading for entertainment purposes. tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

PILE 001 | DAY VERSION

judgement • page of wands • nine of cups • two of cups

Scorpio energy here - either one of you may have Scorpio in 6th, a stellium the 6th or perhaps you’re Pluto dominant. It’s a significant planet here. Your love for one another on a day-to-day basis will shine through in the way you handle the adversities thrown your way, how you wake up each day with excitement and gratitude for what’s to come. It may have been difficult for the two of you to finally come together, but I see two people waking up with extreme gratitude for getting to be with one another. It’s honestly quite sweet, you’ll feel as if all the roads have led you to this person, to spend your life with them in the big and the small moments.

The love will be shown in the stressful moments, hand holding when one’s having a crisis, calming down one another and facing the challenges together. For example, if you’re regularly waking up to nightmares, your person will calm you down, they’ll accompany you to a doctor’s appointment and do their best to ensure you have good dreams.I heard “through thick and thin” - you’ll be doing and planning everything together. You’ll be in sync, so if one’s doing the groceries, the other will be picking up the kids from school. It has a feeling of telepathy to it, like your thoughts and emotions will be picked up on by the other. It’ll be a very teammate-y kind of couple, the couple that does not let the other go without support. You’ll be very present in each other’s day to day lives and there’s an element of fun to it as well, of trying to keep things lighthearted and romantic as well, like going on weekly dates, making sure to lighten up each other’s mood, check in often and give keep the love alive through these small gestures, consistently.

Speaking of consistently, that’s how I envision your daily life with your FS, through constant commitment, effort, gifts and displays of affection. Your relationship will be a safe foundation for your daily lives, regardless of what happens, it will be so present that you won’t ever feel alone or doubt your FS’s love for you.

channeled song: Colors of Your Mood by Between Giants.

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE NIGHT VERSION: YOUR 18+ LIFE.

PILE 002 | DAY VERSION

the sun • seven of wands • four of cups • the empress

Your daily life will have a lot of happy, positive elements. A lot of Leo and Libra here. You’ll make one another laugh a lot, cheer each other up. This person may be or may have been your best friend. I see an element of “inner child” here, a lot of dancing, giggling and nurturing one another. In your daily life, your person may help you stand your ground and you’ll be each other’s biggest cheerleader. Compliments and cheeky ways of flirting are ways where you’ll keep the flame alive, fighting together for a better future as well - you’ll stand up for one another a lot. If someone treats you poorly, like say, you’re walking by and you get catcalled or someone disrespects you at a grocery shop line, your person will say something. You’ll also naturally take on this role as well, because you’ll want to spoil one another a lot and fight to keep your love “young”. Perhaps family members or loved ones will be opposed to this relationship and the both of you will feel the need to prove everyone wrong, to show that you’re each other’s person and it’s the final say. 

You will fight off the boredom of routine by keeping everything interesting and unusual. You may travel a lot with one another before having kids or prioritize your relationship’s success and joy above everything else. Even if the two of you don’t have much money, I feel like you’ll be very creative and come up with different ideas to spark up your joy. Both of you may intensely dislike routine or boredom, so you’ll make sure that neither one of you is left unattended, unsatisfied or lonely. I also feel that either one of you may have slightly jealous tendencies towards the other, so it’ll be important for the two of you to never leave it unaddressed or dismissed, but I think it’ll be mostly harmless and may make one of you pouty, which the other will find cute. I see a lot of spoiling here, not just material, like I mentioned, but showering each other in love every single day, especially through words of affirmation and a lot of cuddling. This is the pile of the clingy, obsessed-with-each-other couple. Quite adorable, to be honest. You won’t be afraid of the PDA.

Random message, but if you have any motherly or love wounds, I think you’ll be able to heal through the love you receive from this person on a day to day basis. As if you’ll come at ease and your heart will finally rest once the days pass you by and you realize your marriage is not like your parents”.

channeled song: Chateau by Angus & Julia Stone.

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE NIGHT VERSION: YOUR 18+ LIFE.

PILE 003 | DAY VERSION

the hermit • queen of wands • ace of pentacles • seven of cups

Your daily life will be busy in the pursuit of better opportunities. I think this person will encourage you to be your most authentic self with them. They’ll make you feel confident and in your power. This pile is giving me “power couple” vibes, like two people who own a business together and work tirelessly to make their dreams come true. It may be hard for you two to distinguish between one person’s dreams vs. the other, since you’ll both have very similar goals that will be aligned in the way you make choices. Your daily life together seems to be one full of really important decisions; you’re both perfectionists - and sometimes you’ll need each other’s push to simply do something instead of striving for perfection. I heard “done is better than perfect”. I also think you’ll both pursue a lot of intellectual stimuli together, maybe go to the movies or the theater together, museums and libraries. It seems that your daily lives will be very private, exclusive to the two of you, you may be the couple who doesn’t post much on social media but the people speak of a lot. I get the feeling you’re both important people, as I mentioned.

You may be in the public eye in some way. I’m guessing it has to do with your occupations. You can count on each other to only speak the best of one another. I think you and your FS will have a deep sense of loyalty and commitment that will naturally bleed into your day-to-day interactions and conversations. You’ll be the couple who plans the smallest of things together. It’s possible the two of you have similar placements or complementary ones, because the synastry here seems very easygoing, like it just flows naturally and two people are very committed to making it work, regardless. Even on a day-to-day basis, you’ll have interesting topics to talk about and you may be the kind of couple who ask each other’s opinions for everything, not out of codependency, but because they know that their FS has always something interesting to say. I see you spending time together in a more “lowkey” way. Your ways of demonstrating love to one another will be subtle but thoughtful, perhaps only noticeable to the two of you, almost like you’ve developed a secret language to speak to one another. You will get each other like no one else. Very clever and sweet. 

channeled song: Cardigan by Taylor Swift.

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE NIGHT VERSION: YOUR 18+ LIFE.

PILE 004 | DAY VERSION

two of cups • four of wands • two of pentacles • ace of swords

Most of your day-to-day lives will be spent maintaining and looking after your stability, pile four. Regardless of how many times I shuffled, messages about money kept coming out. I think it’s possible you’ll either marry into wealth or become fairly wealthy after marriage and I feel like most of your routine will revolve around making healthy financial decisions with your FS. I think the two of you will be very, very protective over your family. Another message I got was about children, I think you’ll have plenty of them. It’s coming on very strongly that you’re possibly having big family - like three to five children, if that resonates for you, of course. I see it as a bit of a chaotic, but pleasant daily life regardless. Even if you’re busy looking after all that you have, I think you’ll aim to leave a good legacy behind and that will show early on in your marriage. You’ll be concerned about making good choices not only for the now, but for the future as well. You’re both very smart, witty people. I feel like you may also have a joint bank account, or some other way of holding each other accountable and looking after your material gains. I don’t see any “controlling” behavior here, but more so two people who are enthusiastic about how far they’ve come and how far they can go.

You’re both super hard workers as well. Honestly, it’s possible you may not spend as much time with them as you want to, but I think even when you’re away for a few hours, running errands or working, you’ll miss them. It’s got a feeling of two people who have never fallen out of love. I think you’ll be smitten with them for a very, very long time. I think you’ll also become an example of a healthy couple for your children as well. I’m sorry children are coming up so strongly (lol), but the energy of being busy, loving parents here is very obvious to me. You might become overwhelmed or overburdened by responsibilities at times, because I see here two people who sort of thrive in chaotic or busy environments and at times, you may have to delegate tasks or ask other family members for help. I think either one of you has always dreamt of building a big family and now that you have it, you want to do everything in your power to protect it, to cherish it. One or both of you is a natural provider and wants to give your loved ones all the best things in the world. 

channeled song: Still The One by Shania Twain.

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE NIGHT VERSION: YOUR 18+ LIFE.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[kisseobie]

hi I absolutely adore your writing!!! who do think amon piwon is a more love st first sight kinda a guy?

love at first sight

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: none!

a/n: in my fantasy world they all fall in love with me at first sight but i’m gonna be as realistic as possible based off of their personalities and things the members have said themselves .. i hope u enjoy <33

𓈒ིུ keeho

i think i remember that on kyo and jiung’s radio show they mentioned this topic once and keeho was a firm believer that love at first sight doesn’t exist, that attraction can definitely be sensed straight away but love is only something that you can experience as you get to know the ins and outs of someone. that being said, for keeho, i would say that although no, he doesn’t fall in love with you at first sight, he does feel a gravitational pull towards your energy and approaches you right when he sees you, internally passing it off as just “wanting to meet new people” when in fact, his subconscious is telling him to introduce himself to you. love at first sight is non existent with keeho, but he knows that it feels right to be around you, which later may blossom into something more than just a “pull”.

𓈒ིུ theo

doesn’t have a set opinion on love at first sight, but i do think he’ll experience it with the right person. doesn’t know if it’s your smile, your beauty, or your charisma that has been on his mind since his first encounter with you, but he knows that it was meant to be. i can see taeyang being frustrated with how he feels after just meeting you, because “love at first sight” doesn’t even occur to him as an option to consider, but as he gets to know you in your future encounters, he begins to understand that that is exactly what he felt. i can envision theo as completely shifting from someone pretty indifferent about relationships to someone who constantly daydreams about seeing you again. so yes, in my opinion, i think theo would experience love at first sight!

𓈒ིུ jiung

no, but just like keeho, the attraction is definitely there. when he first laid his eyes on you, he could place you in his mind as both intelligent and beautiful, and that intrigues him. ji is not a risk taker, nor is he someone to believe in cliches, so he would rather opt to get to know you as a friend at first with no other intentions until he eventually does fall in love with you. but i’m gonna say that jiung is the most difficult to imagine “love at first sight” with. he’s a thinker that needs to analyze all parts about you before allowing himself to open his heart to you. i don’t see this as a bad thing though! i think jiung, as a deep thinker, is definitely the type to value personality the most, so when he does fall in love with you, there isn’t any doubts in his mind, and he knows it was meant to be.

𓈒ིུ intak

intak is tricky but i’m going to say no, only because he’s a social butterfly and feels the need to make a connection with anyone he meets. i don’t think that would change as it comes to you, and like jiung, he wouldn’t have any other intentions than becoming your friend (that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get nervous around you due to your beauty!! but he doesn’t quite perceive that as love). however, i do see intak as someone to fall in love quite quickly, so even if it wasn’t “love at first sight”, it happens very fast. he’s a forward man!

𓈒ིུ soul

as a great judge of character, i think shota would! but the idea of that definitely intimidates him, and frustrates him more than anything. he can tell when he’s drawn to someone and when he meets you, he feels something deeper than his usual desire to get close to someone. it isn’t how he felt with someone like keeho, who he automatically sensed comfortability with in a platonic sense. the butterflies in his tummy scare him, and he doesn’t know what to do with them. however, his infatuation with you definitely forces him out of his comfort zone, which leads to him seeking out your presence wherever he bumps into you, and what happens after that is for you to decide :p

𓈒ིུ jongseob

yes yes yes! and i’m not just saying that because he’s my ult lol in my crush headcanons i also mentioned this but i think seob is so beyond his years that love at first sight is definitely something he could experience. i believe that he wouldn’t be aware of this himself, so he probably would try to downplay how he felt when he first laid eyes on you as just mere attraction to a pretty girl, but it begins to click in his head when he can’t get you off his mind for the rest of the night, despite never holding a conversation with you. confides in shota because he thinks soul is the only one who wouldn’t tease him for how he’s feeling. shota eggs him on to get your number eventually, and he comes to realize after texting you that you might feel the same way about him too <3

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

° . ❀

[diejager]

Cw: violence, blood and gore, murder, obsession, mocking, Ghostface is his own warning, tell me if I missed any.

You cursed, a quiet hiss leaving your lips at the loud groan on the generator, the pumps beating loudly like a heart, quick and fearful, loud and unpredictable. Making a mistake would alert the killer to your location, and letting the sweat, that coated your skin, make you slip up would also lead to the same result. Either way, none of them were an option you were willing to take. You neither knew who the killer was, nor were you prepared to face them if the moment came, the constant loss on your side rubbed salt into your open sores and bruised ego (you liked to say ego to sound better, but truly, the pain and agony chipped at your resolve).

Lip pained and near bleeding, your anxiety had you biting at it, no one had screamed yet, and there weren’t any sightings of the killer. It drove you up the wall with terrifying anticipation to catch a single glimpse of the killer to know what you and the others were dealing with, and the lack of it stressed you out. If only you had picked up Dark Se-

“Boo.”

You screamed, the gen exploding in your face after your hands slipping from the cables, destroying a percentage of your hard work. The force of it pushed you back, knocking into a hard and leathered chest- Leather? The silent movement and the leather feel of the killer’s chest could mean only one thing. You scrambled away, stumbling to your feet as you glared at his prone figure distances away. You’d prefer having a few more feet between you, but there was little you could do to get your way with someone like Ghostface.

He was crouched besides where you originally knelt, arms over his knees and shoulders shaking in what you assumed was laughter. He had his head tilted in a teasing manner, a low and quiet chuckle muffled by his mask. He slowly twirled his blade as he stood up, calm and patient, unbothered by the loud pop of a fixed generator somewhere across the map. Ghostface looked at ease - wasn’t he always? The killing grounds were his dwelling, his home and hobby - taking large but lazy steps towards you. And for every step he took forwards, you took two backwards, inching away from the murderer that loved to taunt you.

The killer that loved to play with his food.

“No ‘hello, Ghostie‘? Not even a small ‘hi‘?” He drawled, head moving in exaggerated motions, to enunciate his words through movement, just the way an actor would, “That’s harsh, sweetheart.”

You glared at him, lips pulling in a snarl. You felt tense, energy rising to ready yourself for a hasty escape, feet buzzing with need to flee and mind panicked. You wanted nothing more than to run away, but you knew that the moment you turned your back to Ghostface, he’d disappear.

“I thought we had something,” he crooned mockingly, his tone almost saddened and hopeful for something both he and you knew couldn’t be possible. 

Unless he meant all the times he’d trapped you, saving you for last to savour the sweet, sweet win against a team of boring kills and his favourite plaything —his words, he’d complain about it at the end, when he had you gasping and bleeding out, body weighted down by his thigh thighs bracketing your hips. 

“So? What now, Danny?” His name had always sounded off when it rolled down your tongue, an uncomfortable feeling setting in your chest when he had you scream it after the first few matches. 

“What now?” It was spoken with such a light and eerie calmness, head cocked to one side with curiosity. “Now, sweetheart, you run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 10 . Nothing More, Nothing Less (3)

a/n: idk which of my blood conditions is acting like a btch but my legs are weak so sitting on a chair is uncomfortable but placing my laptop on my lap is also uncomfortable...

tags: injuries, hiding said injuries, feelings in progress

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

"_____ remember that I have told you that you must work hard while you're under my care?"

"Of course Cale-sunbae, has the time come for me to earn my keep?"

"I like that attitude of yours. Yes, you must pay for your meals now. It is time to save some poor souls once again."

Cale looked uncharacteristically holy. It made the healer wonder if they were actually going to heal people or scam them.

Against _____’s worries, they were really out to heal people. The soldiers of the Whipper Kingdom specifically.

“Just do it how you used to back in our kingdom, but don’t overdo it. I know you prefer working alone as you were used to that, but remember that Rosalyn and Choi Han are at your disposal”

Was what Cale said as everyone prepared their disguises and potions. _____ didn’t need a disguise as their outside outfit already covered everything that could become an identifier. They just chose a colour that matched everyone else’s robes.

True to Cale’s words Choi Han and Rosalyn were keeping an eye out for _____. The two gave the healer space so they could work comfortably but still glanced at them from time to time despite being busy assisting Cage and Jack.

For good measure, the young master also made _____ carry many healing potions.

“Use this if the patient’s wounds are too severe, if you start to feel tired, or when you have too many wounds. Actually, just use them whenever you please. We have lots of potions at our disposal so just use them all.”

Most of the group’s worries disappeared the moment the healer started working.

None of them has seen _____ in action so this was a new sight for them. Sure there was the time during the plaza incident but their focus was on Cale at the time.

_____ looks like fish in water.

Everyone is suddenly reminded why they were dubbed Roan Kingdom’s Medicus.

They know how to approach each patient. How to console them and make them relax. Even the grouchiest of warriors relax under _____’s care. 

They know the most efficient way to heal every patient. When to use their healing powers. When to use potions and/or bandages instead. When to pass them on to the other healers. What herbs to use and what is the most efficient way of intaking them.

Aside from healing warriors and soldiers, _____ has also taken it upon themself to replenish everyone’s energies. Especially Jack and Cage who are at the vanguard of this operation. At first Rosalyn and Choi Han were against it (Cale too but he was busy playing Saint so he left it to the two). _____ assured them by explaining that their ancient power won’t make them faint nor does it take away their own energy.

Cale took personal offence to that, but anyway.

It’s obvious that they have a lot of experience healing a large number of people with varying severities of wounds.

Rosalyn finds that fact bittersweet.

She’s proud because while Jack might’ve stolen the show with his holy powers, everyone can vouch that _____ is the most efficient. Rosalyn could hear people gossiping about how _____ makes everything look smooth and easy. It didn’t even look like they were breaking a sweat.

On the other hand, Rosalyn is sad because it reminds her of _____’s upbringing. It reminds her that instead of playing outside or studying, _____ was busy healing people at such a young age. Instead of going to sleep after drinking a warm glass of milk or being told bedtime stories, _____ has to sleep while writhing in pain because of all the things their body has absorbed.

It made Rosalyn’s resolve to look after _____ stronger.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t there to just play assistant. She has another mission she must complete with Cale, Choi Han, and Raon.

So whether Rosalyn liked it or not she must leave _____’s side.

Well, the other two disguised priests are with them and know that _____ is weak so everything should be fine right?

Tough. Luck.

The two may have known about _____’s constitution but they didn’t know how the Medicus’ power works. 

“Human you told them to watch over kind _____, but did you tell them to not let them heal severe wounds?”

Shit

Cale didn’t…

An honest mistake on Cale’s end. 

Cale and others like Raon and Rosalyn already know the tell-tale signs of _____ overusing their powers. They were so used to knowing what the slightest twitch in _____’s hands meant that they forgot others didn’t.

Raon had asked when they were in the middle of riling up the empire’s troops so there was nothing Cale could do at the moment except try to move faster.

“Where’s healer-nim?[1]”

Cale’s calm demeanour and voice were betrayed by his eyes. His eyes, that's currently dyed blue, shook slightly. It may have been a small movement but it was enough to tell Cage just how worried the young master is.

“We managed to get a break this afternoon, as soon as we did healer-nim said they were going to rest for a while. We tried to get them to eat but they said they were too tired.”

Jack followed Cage’s report.

“Following what the young master-nim said about limiting information about healer-nim we have only informed Harol about them being weak so they could get a comfortable tent. We didn’t specify anything other than that. Cage-nim also made sure to inform them that they must have your permission to enter that tent.”

The man whose hair is currently dyed white nodded in approval. However, there’s a frown on his face.

"Haaa how could I forget such an important thing..."

Cale accidentally let out his real thoughts.

Ignoring the look on the two ‘priests’ faces, Cale starts walking to where _____’s tent is.

"What kind of injuries were they healing since this morning- no just give me a list of the severe wounds you saw them treating"

"The last person they treated had a big wound on their abdomen. Just before that, they had a patient who was stabbed near the lungs…”

Huuuu

Cale said nothing else but moved faster. The two confused priests silently followed the even more agitated young master.

When they got to the tent Cale and the invisible Raon were the only ones who entered. The white-haired man told the two healers to go back and rest for the meantime.

How could they when they could smell the stench of blood from outside _____’s tent?

Despite the foul stench, there are no signs of blood inside.

That made Cale’s frown deeper because it meant _____ knew this would happen and was prepared in advance.

Then he sees _____ on a chair instead of on the bed like how Cage and Jack left them.

“What is an injured person doing slumped over like that on an uncomfortable chair?”

“Ahaha Cale-sunbae, I- haaa, I heard a commotion outside so I went out for a bit. Don’t worry I went back in as soon as you finished putting out the fire.”

It was the truth. _____ couldn’t help but watch Cale’s magnificent performance that they forgot about their condition for a little bit. 

They also felt a warm and fuzzy feeling in their chest. They didn't quite understand what it was because it was the first time they felt that way. So they chalked it up as feelings of admiration.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But back to the present. 

“Stop speaking, you can barely breathe.”

The healer only laughed weakly before passing out. When they did Cale sighed heavily before poking his head out of the tent.

“Since the two of you are still here help me move healer-nim to the bed. But you really must leave afterwards. We must have healers on standby in case something happens.”

Once everyone but Raon was outside the room Cale started unbuttoning _____’s priest robes.

“Human! What are you doing!? You’re supposed to be making _____ better-”

The panicking dragon who forgot to use telepathy stopped in his tracks when he saw what was underneath those robes.

As Cale suspected there was another layer of clothes and then bandages underneath. Both were soaked in blood.

“Technically you absorb other people’s wounds, right? How come there hasn’t been an issue of you randomly bleeding?”

It was one of those days when Cale and _____ were rolling around on the villa’s marble floors. They were talking about whatever comes to mind.

“My adoptive family was kind enough to always give me a heads up before making me do large projects. It gave me time to prepare.”

“What kind of preparation do you do?”

“I usually wear bandages in advance, if I think there’s going to be a lot of people or at least a lot of heavily wounded ones I wear extra layers of clothing. Aside from that, I have also taken it upon myself to use potions when the person I’m healing has a wound on their face. It would be bad if someone saw me randomly manifesting a wound, especially children, it would scare them…”

For the nth time, Cale sighed as he pushed the memory aside. He can reminisce after treating the healer.

As Cale poured the high-grade potions on _____ Raon started asking why he didn’t just ask Cage or Jack to heal them. It would more be faster and efficient.

Cale ignored the dragon. Because honestly, he has no answer.

He just knows that he feels iffy at the idea of letting someone else heal _____ after they’ve been healing everyone else since yesterday.

He didn’t know why he felt that way so he stayed silent.

Cale only spoke up again to ask Raon to use magic to clean up the traces of blood.

That night, the man decided to stay beside the healer. Rosalyn and Choi Han can cover for him in case something happens.

He's going to stay in this tent until _____ feels better and that’s final.

Cale knows his acting irrational. He knows that _____ is going to be fine. His eyes witness how fast their wounds close. He committed it to memory.

But still.

He feels inclined to stay by their side. At least while the healer was unconscious.

Maybe it was because he personally asked them to join him. Maybe because he feels responsible for their well-being. 

Yeah, it’s just responsibility.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And so Cale dismisses his lingering thoughts. Those thoughts will only hinder him and his plans. He has better things to do than dwell on feelings his unsure of.

Fortunately, the next morning _____ was feeling better. They were back to their usual self as if the copious amount of blood the two witnessed last night was a lie.

“No, I won’t allow you to go out there. Jack and Cage can handle it. You go back and rest.”

Rosalyn is not having it.

And honestly, Cale agrees.

Despite them feeling much better this morning, it’s so obvious to Cale that _____ is still sick. Their face are pale and their hands tremble ever so slightly.

It may not be obvious to other people but it’s clear as day to Cale.

“Rosalyn is right, go back to your tent and rest.”

“I’m fine really. This is actually less than the burden I usually take.”

The three humans sighed at that.

The four argued a bit more. A 3v1 but _____ is holding their ground, and it's making all of them frustrated. Despite their efforts, the healer is insistent on going back to work.

“If I help then we’ll get things done faster. If we get things done faster then the sooner I can rest. If I don’t help then we’ll be here longer and I won’t be able to rest properly because I’ll worry too much.”

That was the argument that let _____ go back to work.

Of course not without Cale saying that his going to order Choi Han to drag them back to bed if he sees anything wrong.

In the end, the matter was dismissed, and _____ went on their merry way to heal more patients.

If Jack and Cage noticed the four, if you include Raon, watching _____’s every move like a hawk then they didn’t mention anything.

Cale still feels tense at the idea of letting the already injured healer work and absorb more wounds. Even after he made sure that _____ would only take care of minor wounds he still feels iffy. 

However, he let it go for the time being.

Because they indeed need the extra set of hands. 

It’s totally not because he thinks _____ looks good when they are happy and basking in that well-deserved praise they receive.

He just agrees that things here should wrap up quickly.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The next day they did everything they needed to do and were on their merry way back home.

When they were away from everyone else _____ couldn't help but listen to Cage's joking comment about Cale.

"Young master-nim, I think you'll make a great Pope in the future."

_____ could see Jack nodding his head as he looked towards Cale with sparkling eyes.

"She is right. Even if you do not have any divine powers, you are a warm person who has the purest of minds, Cale-nim. You definitely have what it takes to be a great Pope that looks after the believers of god. 'Not discriminating on life.' I learned something new again."

At that moment _____ couldn't hold it in and let out a hearty but soft laugh. Their soft laughter played like music in everyone's ears. The four people who have been with the healer these past months had a momentary look of shock on their faces. 

This was the first time the group had seen them smile that big, let alone laugh. Most of the time they would be lucky if they could see a small, almost non-existent smile on their lips.

After a few seconds, the shock turned into confusion as they didn't know why _____ was laughing. 

Well everyone but Cale.

Cale knew the reason for the healer's laughter. He’s pretty sure the healer is laughing at him because being a Pope would get in the way of his slacker life. 

Yes, Cale had also told them about how he is currently working towards a life of forever lounging around and doing nothing. 

Cale just ignored everyone's confused faces and ordered Raon to bring them home. 

Aside from Cale himself, no one missed the soft smile forming on his lips.

[1] reader is famous, that and Toonka don't know their real identity so they avoid saying the reader's name by referring to them as healer

[kwimii999]

Notice : I'm quitting

So, as I'm sitting down on my bed while meddling in CAS and thinking about thoughts that I've had for a while. I realized I no longer enjoyed creating content ! To me I see this as a positive because everything I do in my life is a challenge for me. I've learned a lot and I enjoyed it while it lasted.

Most of my downloads will be transfered to MTS, it's less overwhelming to manage when I make changes or update my files. My profile : here

Why ?

I think I wanna go back to enjoying sims 3 in my own comfort and in my own corner (because it truly feels like I haven't been able to play for so long). I have too much going on in my life anyway and I realized that since I'm going back to college soon. I won't even be able to post nor do I want to even create and post content at all.

It went from being enjoyable to just taking a lot of my time and energy and the enjoyment kinda went away with it. I do not regret anything I did though and I'm very happy I started creating content.

I had a lot of things I wanted to create, I wanted to learn conversions for hair, objects, animations. I was generally ambitious but I'm just not enjoying myself anymore.

None of my content will be deleted and it if it was, it was intentional not to gatekeep but mostly because there's an updated version of it or I thought it was just something I deemed too unoptimized (like my university build).

Thank you everyone.

Thank you to everyone who supported me so far. You have all been a great impact on me !

If any of you who are reading this have always wanted to learn creating content, do so ! Sims 3 does need more creators, if you shy away from learning you'll lose the opportunity to see what you were truly capable of ! So create to your heart's content and here's some advice :

Take your time

Believe in your abilities

Let yourself make mistakes

Don't give up too easily but learn how to take breaks

Always remember that your smallest achievements can lead you to bigger achievements so don't belittle yourself either.

So go ahead and create ! and leave your mark in the sims 3 community whether it's simply just a build or a mod. If you have something to share, share it.

🫡

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

Hey sorry friend! Here, i will request it separately for you.

Can you make headcanons for taking care of dazai after the prison arc? I feel really really bad for him and i just want to let him sleep and dote on him for weeks.

P.s. he deserves warm food and head rubs and for people to stop talking shit about him. 😭

Reunion with blood and tears

Headcanon: Dazai is reunited with his lover after his escape Dazai x Fem! Reader Masterlist Tysm anon for the request! Hope this doesn't disappoint your heart :)

Dazai Osamu was laughing. That's the first thing he does escaping the prison.

You looked bloody and beaten up badly but nevertheless you came to pick him up (I mean duh, he is the Osamu transferring information through his heartbeat Dazai)

"Osamu, please, I can't even think to loss you again" that's the first thing you would say to him as you hug him tightly, sobbing .

You know this man, despite having the happy shell, even he breaks down crying and in that embrace none of you wanted to separate.

You stared at the exit all covered in blood and wounds but you couldn't care less. Your lover was sent to the prison long ago for the past crimes he did. He was the former port mafia executive, you knew sooner or later he had to pay his deed, but this was a ruthless act.

And in the moment time didn't exist for you as you stared at you lover, so beaten up and broken almost limping to an extent and you couldn't even help him by taking his pain away. All you could do was hug and embrace him in your arms and you wept. Sooner then expected, for the second time in his life, Osamu Dazai cried, because he was relieved to go back somewhere who he could call home.

Now Now, that was one moment you had. Because of this mess created by DOA, the best service you could provide a runaway criminal was your own secret base like home.

The only supply you could give that moment was giving him food and bandages, as he proceeds to bath. He was limping badly and you told him that you could least have the made-up support for him but he brushed of saying it wasn't a big deal.

You then forcefully make him seated on the bed considering his physique screamed broken bones which you couldn't heal.

Dazai was silent all the time, he wasn't eating nor talking and seemed to lost his touch, simply showing his true nature.

You know this was the real Osamu Dazai, the one without the barrier of fake happiness. He already had bags under his eyes as if he never slept, and how fragile and thin he had gotten over the past few months.

"Dazai? Osamu, Darling please eat something, i made you some crab soup you always liked" You would plead as he just stare as you.

"I don't wish to eat right now"

And that was the moment that broke your heart. You know it would be to much for him to intake such a heavy meal so you simply came back with some fruits, cut in bits and you proceed to take a seat next to him and open his mouth.

"I love you babes but if you cant eat, i will have to forcefully make you eat, I don't want anyone to die at me"

You swear you could hear him saying 'kinky', before you proceed to fed him food.

"Good boy Osamu, you finished your food" You said joyfully giving him a head pat as you proceed to keep the dishes in the kitchen.

Head pats, rubs and hugs.... that's what he needs

He wouldn't open up to you fully and you respected his decision.

You finished up everything as you re-bandaged his wounds later at night, which seemed to fallen quiet early today.

Dazai seemed to have gained his energy, and willingly ate up all the crab soup you made.

Currently you were in the bed with him, hugging him so closely not wanting to lose him again. This war was to much. You didn't wanted anyone to die, especially you two but it was your duty, to save people's future even if it meant to destroy your own.

"Hey Osamu, promise me you wouldn't pull any of this stunt again understand? I already lost much and I don't want you loss anyone more" You said as you bury your face lightly against his chest, listening to his heartbeat which could tell wonders.

Dazai pulled you closed, his arms around you and he secures the position, his head above your head, for the first time after his escape he spoke, "Y/N I love you and I promise I wouldn't change it for the world, I wouldn't leave you, I promise"

You looked up to see him sighing with his breathe, as he slowly closes his eyes, letting the darkness wash over him yet again, but this time within the comfort of his lover by his side and it was a sight you would never change it for the world.

'I love you Osamu Dazai' you whisper as you watch him fall asleep, least with a small hinted smile on his face.

Loosing yourself a little, you kissed him on his forehead and then lightly on his lips before embracing him yet again under the covers of your bed with your lover beside you, as you listen to his heartbeat, and you swore you could decode his heartbeat saying I love you too.

Hope this satisfy all those dazai kinnies including anon and me, cus Dazai deserves much more then all this. honestly idk if this directed mainly towards the hc! But dazai fluff is all we need.

[yuesya]

The Lord of the Vortex.

There is none who does not know the name of Osial, That Which Lies in The Deep. The most powerful god of the Hydro element. He who commands authority over the tempestuous seas, who controls the monsters of those very same waters.

The bird remembers that the– the–

Remembers that the Mistress of Dreams had treated the Lord of the Vortex with honeyed smiles and wary caution. Knows that the Lord of the Vortex is a god of war and battle, even despite the genial countenance that he dons an agreeable demeanor, complete with cold eyes that make it clear the god will not suffer any disagreement to his commands.

“Will you not say anything, little bird?” The Hydro god arches an eyebrow coolly. “Answer. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Involuntarily, the bird’s hands twitch. Its throat tightens, and words simply –refuse to rise to its tongue. The bird does not know the reason why.

Quicksilver images flash through its mind. White hair, and blue eyes.

I don’t have orders. Just go.

… The new Master –Not-Master?– had not made any demands for obedience, nor compelled any vows of secrecy from it. And yet, the bird finds itself reluctant to speak of the young god to the Lord of the Vortex, who has already slain countless foes whom it deemed a threat, monsters and gods alike–

“Who killed Malphas?” Impatience is beginning to creep into the sea god’s voice. The faux-friendly air about the god is fading swiftly; the Lord of the Vortex’s mood is known to be as mercurial as the storms that rise over the seas that he rules. “If you will not sing for me, little bird, then clearly you do not need that useless tongue of yours.”

The threat is crude, and unsubtle. There’s a faint tremor of fear that the bird can feel fluttering inside its chest, but even so, it remains silent.

A cruel smile splits across the god’s face. Jagged teeth elongate into fangs, as the manifestation of the Lord of the Vortex’s power destabilizes the human shape that the god has chosen to take. “So be it. Die knowing that your loyalty to a dead, worthless god is what killed you.”

(Its god isn’t dead. Not dead, and not worthless)

You can wake up now.

Anemo swirls around the bird’s feet in a violent gust as it summons the last dregs of its power in defiance of the Lord of the Vortex. Truthfully, to one who’d been forced into the service of the Mistress of Dreams, death is not the frightening prospect that the Lord of the Vortex appears to believe it is–

“Osial. Cease your posturing.” An authoritative voice suddenly rings out from –above? The bird glances above, just in time to see a golden shower of Geo energy coalesce and condense into a human form. Tall, male. There is an air about this new arrival that makes them seem implacable, and immovable.

… Another god.

“If a single human who has been displaced here dies to your carelessness,” the Geo god states, amber eyes glowing, “Then know that I shall revisit this upon your seaborn kin threefold.”

The Lord of the Vortex’s form shimmers like the haze of a watery mirage, then smooths out into the image of a blue-haired human man once more. One who appears bored and unaffected, instead of ready to release its power mere moments prior.

“Ah, Morax.” The Lord of the Vortex smiles, bright and insincere. His delight upon seeing the new god who’d just arrived is genuine, but it’s the sort of delight that’s associated with bloodshed. “I’d wondered if you’d be coming to take a look at this interesting little spectacle as well. Haagentus isn’t around to keep ahold of your leash today?”

“We are allies of equal standing,” the other god does not sound amused. “Return to your waters, Osial.”

Morax, the Groundbreaker. One of the most powerful among the host of adepti in these lands, a god of Geo whose mastery over the manipulation of earth and stone was unparalleled. Another god whom the Mistress of Dreams had been rightfully wary of, especially since the Groundbreaker was in an alliance with Haagentus, the Lord of Dust. Haagentus was a gentler god of Geo, who was not known for her physical might, but rather the keenness of her mind instead.

“You and what army?” The Lord of the Vortex retorts, and sweeps out a hand around him with an exaggerated flourish. “Or do you care nothing for your precious land-bound humans, hmm?”

The Groundbreaker’s eyes narrow. The Lord of the Vortex laughs.

“Little bird,” the sea god says, not once lifting his gaze from the other god even as he addresses it. “I’d advise you to start talking. Morax isn’t nearly as patient as I am.”

The Groundbreaker’s gaze turns towards the bird. “… You know of what transpired here?”

The bird tenses.

“Knows, and refuses to utter a single word about it,” the Lord of the Vortex chuckles. “How very loyal, isn’t it?”

The Groundbreaker’s attention shifts towards the dark barrier stretching up into the sky behind the bird, assessing. “That barrier…”

“Don’t break it.” Somehow, the words blurt out from its mouth. The bird is seized with the urge to duck its head as soon as both gods immediately look towards it, but… this is something that must be said, before either one of the powerful gods decide to do something that would be deeply regrettable.

“Oh? And why not?”

“This barrier, it…” Body folding into a bow before both gods, the bird recalls what the white-haired god had explained to it. The god who’s still doing her best to combat the lingering traces of the Mistress of Dreams’ powers, even now. “The… aftereffects of the Mistress of Dreams’ death is being contained within. Please don’t break it.”

“Hm.” The Groundbreaker frowns. Then, stiffens slightly, because–

“How interesting,” the Lord of the Vortex smiles. Beneath his feet, the ground ripples, with a texture not unlike that of rippling waves. “Morax, if you and Haagentus are dealing with the results of Malphas’ unfortunate demise, do you think Chi might be grateful for the opportunity to finally feast with his darling children?”

Amber eyes widen, then narrow in fury. “You dare–”

“You should not have slain my bride-to-be’s brothers and sisters,” the Lord of the Vortex’s smile darkens. Hydro energy engulfs its body fully, a blue glow that causes the humans around the god to attempt to scurry back even further, to start running–

The bird is already moving before it fully realizes what it’s doing, forcibly swallowing bitter guilt and reproach over the words that it should not have spoken. Fierce winds whip beneath the bird’s feet, hastening its movements as it lunges forward to get the fragile humans out of the way, as many as possible–

Water erupts from the ground, amid the Lord of the Vortex’s delighted laughter–

“Osial!” The Groundbreaker roars thunderously, and the very earth trembles in response to the god’s outrage.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Been scouring your blog to see if you have a specific take and i only managed to find the post where you said you are more for people coming up with their own meaning for Tolkiens work. anyhow, after reading you boromir post on how hope is his poison I am super curious as to what meaning you personally ascribe to it all. A lot of scholars will tout hope over despair as the ultimate meaning here (and the ultimate meaning of real life...ugh) and considering your very gut wrenching but meaningful takes on boromir i was just curious. Your thought process is fascinating from a scholarly viewpoint (which is not my strong suit) but also an artistic, emotional, philosophical, and human viewpoint. Whew sorry this ask is so long and disorganized! Have i mentioned I am not a scholar? :D

First off I love this ask it made me so happy to read I had to do so like five times before I felt qualified to answer it and then I spent like months writing this response which is over 4000 words now if you want to know. And, on that note, dw about scholarliness or whatever this ask has more desire to engage with lotr in nuanced ways than most tolkien scholars achie- (gets hit by a piano) anyway~!

It's also just extremely flattering that you're curious of my personal opinion at all so thank you so very much!

(this is the post anon is talking about for context)

As with all things, my answer has many layers. At the most basic and applicable level, and when taking only my Gondorian/Stewardship investment into account, I am engaging with the story for personal catharsis.

The fact that Gondor felt hopeless, that the enemy was merciless and invincible, that even those figures who were supposed to help had only judgement and platitudes to offer until it personally benefitted them, that Boromir and Denethor were isolated and generally condemned and that many only showed them pity after their deaths, feels extremely cathartically familiar to me and my story with chronic illness. I've spoken about this before here and there, but that is the kind of simplistic, energy giving, 'he's me fr fr' comparison that brings me uncomplicated comfort and inspiration.

But that is definitely not 'what lord of the rings is about' not even just to me, it's not even just what BOROMIR is about to me, it is an element of the story and worldbuilding that I have isolated and consumed but that still exists within a far larger whole. And that whole is also fascinating and compelling but in a far more esoteric and harder to define way.

BUT before we get into it, I do also feel the need to explain the limitations I percieve within the 'lotr is about hope over despair' narrative since you've brought it up but neither your ask nor the post you mentioned properly explains it and it'll enhance my point later. SO.

As far as my experience has lead me to believe, when people say 'lotr is about hope triumphing over despair' they mean it in a moralising fable kind of way. This is definitely the narrative the films latched onto, like a leech. Good characters have hope, lose it only to reclaim it again, teach others to have hope etc, and that is good of them. Bad characters are despairing and therefore have no hope, and they do evil deeds because of the despair and lack of hope. The Aragorn vs Denethor film paradigm.

But nothing within the books is anywhere near as cut and dry. As I said in the linked post, Boromir gains hope after having none (the hope that he can save Gondor by using the ring) and that is bad, it is something he has to 'pay for' according to the narrative. Meanwhile charmed and blessed Faramir admits that he never had any hope quite a few times, yet he is not punished for it. Theoden also has no hope and is explicitely going to war to die, but his death is not considered evil or selfish by the majority. Saruman is very hopeful, he's hopeful that Sauron can be reasoned with, that if they work together they can make a better world, but he suffers 100 indignities and then is killed by a cannibal! And most of all, Frodo also rarely (if ever) shows any signs of hope, he merely doggedly marches on regardless and in the end even takes the power of the ring for himself, essentially the ultimate evil act of desperation, but that saves the world!

For the record the idea that LotR is a fable-narrative of any kind seems exceedingly erroneous to me, like the idea that we are supposed to glean any universal Good Moral from the tale due to Tolkien's 'emminent wisdom' feels bizarre in and of itself. But at the very least this aspect is more complex, I think we can all agree.

But even more than that (and this is more perspective than narrative analysis I suppose but I think it bears saying), ‘despair is evil’ is a kind of horrible thing to teach! If the villainisation of people driven to desperate actions or anhedonia because of the deep despair they are suffering is what LotR is about then that’s.. awful! That sounds like a bad book and I don't think I'd want to read it. But lets put a pin in the concept of condemning people for despair for now, look out for the pin cus it’ll be coming back later. 

FOR NOW lets get back on topic, if I don't think LotR is 'about' hope triumphing over despair, what do I think it's about?

Well. I know what I'm about to do appears highly out of character for me so please remain calm and gird yourself before I say this but; Let us start with hearing what Tolkien had to say on the subject.

I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly 'a setting' for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race 'doomed' to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race 'doomed' not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete.

(this quote is actually from a letter to a fan who suggested lotr was an allegory for atomic power and he was pretty mean and dismissive about it in reply, it's kind of funny)

Now I've been a bit glib about this in the past, along the lines of 'tolkien's own opinion on what his book was about changed for every year of his life and by the time all his friends started dying around him it became about death, what a surprise' mainly because, again, we've had enough people caring about Tolkien's opinions to do us for the rest of civilisation. But I've always known this glib comment to be pretty baseless and unconsidered, since death was a major aspect of his life from his earliest childhood and it makes sense for that to have been a large part of his work. And since I am being sincere I will, just this once, take Tolkien's hand instead of ignoring him.

For him, the theme of his book was not power or domination (or the evils of war or hope over despair), it was about death. It was about people trying to deal with the realities of death existing for them, not existing for others, and what love (loving the world) meant in that context.

On it's surface I find this quote kind of clinical in it's first impression. There's a prescriptiveness to it that does not inspire me, which isn't surprising since this came from a letter full of veiled snootiness on his part.

But mostly, as a concept.. it seems pretty distant from what actually happens in the story itself, right? What aspect of death and immortality was the fellowship embodying? Boromir certainly died, but he was not looking for immortality and his death is far more concerned with guilt than the fact that he is dying. Theodred is dead already, but not even his father appears all that bothered about it and it's quickly set aside to focus more on the war. Denethor kills himself but his and Gandalf's last interaction says far more about despair and faith than death.

And then no other main character 'dies' at all, unless you count Gandalf. And the only main immortal character we have (other than Gandalf) is Legolas whom, whilst he does have quotes associated with his immortality, is far more invested in his and Gimli's relationship than anything else. It's no wonder people choose 'war is hell' or 'hope over despair' narratives over 'death' as the main theme for lotr from their perspective.

It also does not satisfyingly link to one of the most compelling aspects of the books as a whole; that of how they are presented. The thread connecting death and immortality to writing a story that is from in-universe historical accounts, editted and compiled by many subsequent in-universe hands, is there but hazy. The intense catholic-ness of the story is also intuitably related to death and immortality, but not explicitly.

In essence, death does not feel like the main theme of the books when you are reading them, at least I don't think most experience them that way.

However, in spite of all that, Tolkien's opinion on what his books are 'about' is still the closest I have seen anyone come to my own. Which I assume is hard enough for you all to hear, but imagine how I feel 😩

To me, LotR is most themactically consistent when viewed through the lense of Frodo and Gandalf's ever misquoted early interaction;

"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.’ ‘It is not,’ said Frodo. (emphasis mine)

It is not comforting to know that the suffering in front of you was always meant to happen, no matter how comforting the idea of a divine plan might be to some. And that is what Gandalf is offering Frodo in this moment, the relief of a divine plan and its ‘high beauty for ever beyond [the Shadow’s] reach’. But this is never comforting to Frodo in the books, the comfort he finds on his martyr's journey is in Sam. Indeed, it is actually Sam who finds comfort in 'the high beauty', this reminder that beyond all his own suffering there is an imperishable and eternal light that can never be dimmed.

But not Frodo, how can he? His eventual fate is to grasp the power of a weapon so unholy it sickens his soul, to do that which he has been told is irreversible and unforgivable, so that he can never be at ease or even survive in the lands he has loved ever again. The 'High Beauty' is what is doing this to him, what made the rules, what meant for this to happen, what he is doing this in service of. And Gandalf, whose soul will be present to see the very end of this tale, cannot possibly understand what it is for your whole life to be encapsulated by just your own small painful part of what Gandalf would propose was a beautiful and universal tapestry.

And lack of agency against the divine plan is precisely the narrative thread that ties every character together. To some it is a comfort, Aragorn and Gandalf and Sam are all gladdened and encouraged by the knowledge that there is some higher power ordering their lives, some greater beauty they are all a part of beyond any earthly pain or suffering. They are not in control and to remember this is a relief. It inspires them to better fulfill their ordained duties and drive themselves through terrible trials.

To others it is no comfort at all, Boromir and Frodo have no faith in the prospect that the divine plan will include success or happy lives for them at the end of their tasks. But it is a hopelessness and uncertainly that they both accept. They simply believe their duties must be attempted anyway, hopeless or not, even if it makes no difference to the outcome in the end. Lack of control is just a reality they live with.

And to some it is a horror. Denethor and Eowyn want to fulfill their duties, but these duties are torture. They demand loved ones die, they demand relentless fear and sacrifice, they demand ceaseless and hopeless toil. And in the end both of them are given rebellious breaks from these duties by the narrative, ones that are horrifying in and of themselves (and portrayed as wrong to one degree or another) but that are still extremely cathartically presented as attempts to reclaim control of their lives away from a callous divine. Even if, ultimately, this also was out of their control.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas and Gimli appear to have never quite had to confront the realities of their powerlessness before. But through the story they become intimately aware of it in ways that force them to make choices they are not ready to make. For Merry and Pippin, this leads them to ultimately empathise with Eowyn and Denethor’s positions, wracked with guilt and equally horrified, attempting to find agency in death where (it appears) none can be found. For Legolas and Gimli, they confront the spectors of lack of agency/death for the first time in the narrative (sea-longing and the Paths of the Dead) and are irrevocably changed by them, eventually leading them both to attempt to circumvent their fates by illegally sailing to the uttermost west. Obviously fandom likes to believe they made it and live happily, but narratively it is also suggested that they died at sea in the attempt.

Now, at the risk of indulging in my ever-derided biographical criticism, I do think that all of these characterful arcs are represented in Tolkien’s own life. I feel comfortable saying that Tolkien was not a happy man by default. He was wracked with guilt from a very young age (wow a catholic with guilt, groundbreaking) but that guilt followed him and found new reasons to manifest until the very end of his life. And a lot of this guilt had to do with death, his father's death, his mother's death, his friend's deaths. And a lot of it had to do with fear of leaving unfinished or poorly finished business behind him at the time of his own death: guilt about how he had taught his students, about his scholarly work, his parenting skills, his so-oft-mentioned faith. 

And being a man of faith, he would have experienced all these things as a part of the divine plan, even as they were also his guilt to bear. So, clearly, Tolkien's experience encompassed all of these characters, right? The despair and the torment and combined love-of and frustration-with the divine. The failure. He knew them all. And within all of them, as well as within the narrative and world itself, there is a wrestling, there is an ever-shifting complexity and multitude of different opinions to how one experiences a life that hurts in a beautiful world that you love but that you eventually must leave, with the sensation that you have no control over any of it.

However, a complication to any declaration of ‘what LotR is about’ is that it is a self-admittedly unreliable narrative. If you cannot necessarily believe everything the narrative is telling you, then suddenly additional layers of complexity come into play in determining the meaning within an already complex text. In LotR you can actually track which characters are recounting which parts of the story to Frodo or Sam at the time of writing. But it is also just obscured enough to make it ambiguous and to enforce the idea that this is a version of this original story edited and compiled for many generations after it's writing.

So not only are these characters and events transient, uncertain and being (sometimes bluntly) misrepresented by the narrators, YOU are now complicit in that. You are yet another interpreter to alter this narrative through your perspective, just as all works and all lives are interpreted by those who view them, with no way to control that judgment. You are also a character now, making it even more difficult to make definitive judgments about a question like 'what LotR is about'.

The clearest example of how this narrative unreliability and reader interpretation comes into play within the text itself is when Frodo describes the fellowship's entrance into Lothlorien to Faramir. He is being blindfolded in order to be lead to Henneth Annun, and he recounts;

‘As you will,’ said Frodo. ‘Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.’

But we, as readers of the previous book, know this is a gross mischaracterisation of Gimli. He did not take issue with being blindfolded, he took issue with being singled out as the only member of the fellowship who needed to be blindfolded.

‘As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.’ This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. ‘The agreement was made without my consent,’ he said. ‘I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.’

In this one moment Frodo has taken what was a reaction of justified indignation against racial prejudice, and made it sound like a minor tantrum over a shared burden. He has also used it to further aggrandise his own people in Faramir's eyes. And it is up to YOU to notice this, to review it in your mind, to choose what it leads you to believe about all characters involved. The narrative certainly never helps you, or addresses it ever again. You have to wrestle with what it means in your mind.

I believe this is the reason I have observed that every person who reads LotR and loves it and keeps rereading it feels like they are excavating something. There is a narrative under the narrative for every new pair of eyes on the tale. And that narrative is you, it's who your experiences and sympathies lead you to listen too harder, it's the story of the experiences you understand. And in that excavation, you are also reclaiming a moment of control for yourself in conversation with the story and whatever you have chosen to excavate. One might say these are all aspects of every story, but LotR is unique in its investment and immersion into the concept.

Because, to me, when Tolkien says his story is about 'death and immortality', what I read is that it's about the ultimate lack of control we have (death) and trying to empathise and accept the unfairness of what will become our inherently false legacies (immortality). And then just the vast spectrum of experiences and emotions those things conjure. It's not just about those things, it is an attempted soothing of those fears and struggles, it is an offer of comfort or catharsis or applicability. It is also an acknowledgement of the love that drives you and that you will eventually grieve.

Frodo leaves the shire to save it because he loves it, but he knows the entire time he will never be able to fully return. He is frustrated, it hurts, but a piece of the Shire in Sam comes with him and whilst it cannot save him, Frodo is still comforted. 

Sam leaves the Shire because he loves Frodo, and he loves the high beauty as embodied by elves and magic and history. He also knows implicitly that this is a task he cannot refuse, but these things comfort him. He is glad to be guided and strengthened to even greater feats the more he trusts in a higher power, but he has a life and a family in the end. And if that is what the Higher Beauty decrees for him, where it has doomed Frodo to incurable soulful wounds, are we surprised at either of their choices? Can we blame anyone for their hope OR despair in the face of powerlessness? Oh! Look at that! It’s that pin I mentioned quite literally last century ago. TOLD you it’d be back.

And that brings us back to the question, what do I think LotR is about. 

We are all powerless in the face of death and in writing a book about death Tolkien’s work has an inherent universal applicability in this regard. Tolkien asks an unconscious question within lotr, how should we cope with being creatures that love the world but that are doomed to die and leave it? And then he leaves that question entirely unanswered. This is what sets lotr apart and truly creates a story in which people can read narratives therein that appear entirely separate from death or any other recognisable theme others might see, without losing the sense of universal appeal. He offers multiple perspectives, including that of the dominant religion’s prescriptive decrees of right and wrong, but there is no solution brought forth in the story that saves anyone from grief or death or regret in the end. Not even Aragorn or Arwen, who are in essence the most holy and faithful characters barring Gandalf within the story, end without heartbreak and despair!

‘‘I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.’’ ‘‘Nay, dear lord,’’ she said, ‘‘that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.’’ ‘‘So it seems,’’ he said.

There is no such comfort!! … Or is there?

To me, the appeal of Boromir is in the solution he offers; the comfort is in the wrestling! 

Aragorn and Arwen did absolutely everything they were supposed to do, unquestioningly, to the point that Aragorn goes to the Silent Street and just lies down to die because it’s ‘the right time’ and he mustn’t become ‘unmanned and witless’. And then he dies and he makes a beautiful holy corpse that cannot comfort Arwen or his children or his people for even a moment. 

But Boromir dies with a smile. Aragorn promises that Minas Tirith will not fall, and that does comfort him, because that was the wrestling he chose, the love he decided to hold, the meaning he decided to find and fight for beyond all his powerlessness to protect it. So that’s the answer I find and it might be different from yours, but it’s in LotR to be read because the story is about the wrestling as much as (if not more than) it is about the end. The road DOES go ever on and on, after all!

So ye das wat lotr was about I fink thanks 4 askin 👍I REALLY hope it makes sense. I also really hope Anon manages to see it after it took so goddamn long to respond 😂

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Partner

How she falls in love with you & how you ask her out

characters: Navia x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I may or may not be down bad tremendously for Navia...

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Navia

Falling in love with you was spectacularly unspectacular. In retrospect, there wasn’t a single moment Navia could point to while confidently stating it was the one she realized she was in love, no heroic deed or grand speech that suddenly made her look at you in a completely different light. Instead, her feelings for you were more akin to a collection of small pieces that slowly but surely piling up until they had become too obvious for her to overlook. 

Like how Navia could catch you silently doing tasks she despised without her having to mention it or how you instinctively moved your hand into a position from where you could easily catch her hat whenever a gust of wind caught both of you off-guard. All of which you did without ever mentioning it or expecting any kind of thanks, simply chalking it up to coincidence or downplaying it whenever she spoke up about it.

Looking back on the past week, it was difficult for Navia to describe it in any nicer way than “taxing”. Sure, it had neither catastrophe nor tragedy, and yet the constant gray skies, coupled with a sudden increase in the Spina’s workload took a toll on everyone in Poisson. As the week went on, it became more and more difficult to put on a smile, even for someone like Navia, so much so that the only thing she had to offer upon finally finishing her work was a deep sigh.

So she sat there, in her office, leaning back in her chair as much as she possibly could. Eyes closed as she hoped to maybe get the chance to dream a bit. And yet, as it finally seemed like she was about to nod off, a knock on her door startled her awake. Within a blink of an eye, her tired posture had given way as she sat down properly before calling whoever found themselves on the other side of the door inside her office. 

“I’m sorry for butting in, I hope I’m not being a nuisance”, you apologized politely before offering Navia a small smile. “The past week has been rough, so if you want to be alone right now I can leave.”

“Please, there’s no reason to think that. I was hoping you’d show up, partner. So come, take a seat”, her words instantly began flying out of her mouth as the corner of her lips shifted upwards, only for her to freeze a bit once she went over what she had said, eyes slightly widening as her gaze fixated on your face, trying to make out your reaction, no matter how small it was.

“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to do that. I still have a bit of work to do. I was just passing by and thought I might as well ask you something real quick”, you hastily explained, wearing an apologetic smile, only for it to vanish in the very next moment as you grew increasingly more nervous. “Are you on sunday? A friend of mine is going to perform in the Opera Epiclese and I wanted to go, so…”, your voice died down as your cheeks turned just red enough for Navia to notice. “Do you want to go together?”

As a tense silence settled into the room, you found it increasingly more difficult to keep a somewhat composed face, a part of your brain urging you to simply vanish as another screamed at you, and yet, when you finally found the courage to glance at Navia’s face only to see her stare at you with a wide smile, her mouth slightly open as if she was trying to say something yet couldn’t find the right words, you suddenly relaxed.

“Sure, it’s a date! I look forward to it.”

Within a moment you found yourself smiling at her in return, nodding your head before readying to leave the room and finish your work so you could start preparing as soon as possible. “Until Sunday then, partner”, you said your goodbye before closing the door behind you, leaving behind a Navia that suddenly felt full with energy again, all the exhaustion that had built up over the week gone to the wind as she instantly sprang into action.

“Until Sunday, partner…”

[phoenixyfriend]

A lot has been happening today that rep calls could affect. UN vetoes, KOSA, Julian Assange, UNRWA's funding crisis and Israel's demands that it be completely dismantled, the large number of bills we just learned are on the docket for the coming week, and even the good news that is recent successes by the BDS movement.

And like... I care about this stuff. I want to talk about it. But it takes an emotional and mental toll to do it, and it takes time, and... there are two reasons to write up reference, update, information posts:

Compensation. I'm not a journalist, but if I were, I would in theory be getting paid for the information I collect and share to my audience. However, I am not, and am doing this for free. I have gotten maybe $5 in donations since I started this project, and while I recognize that this is probably because people are (quite rightly) donating instead to Palestinian charities or local campaigns or something, it's a basic fact that I am not actually being compensated for this work.

Promoting change and activism. This is in fact my main goal: to have a positive impact on current events by giving people a guide on the news and politics because there's so much happening that's hard to keep track of, and if I'm already doom-listening to half a dozen political podcasts, I might as well save other people the trouble, right?

The thing is, like... most of the reblogs on my guidelines and helpful posts are from me, to me. I am the one reblogging. I am desperately trying to get these things to circulate so I can make a difference, but... no dice. Some of the posts are admittedly pretty long (my 'how to call your reps, here's some verbiage' post is 3.4k words), and I can imagine some people are saving it for later, and then maybe forget, or they don't want to share something controversial, and like... I do get that. I do.

But it does mean the posts aren't circulating, and thus they're having less of an impact, and I can't help but feel like there are other things I could be doing to help that would be more effective. More bang for my buck, except it's my time and effort instead of my money. Like, maybe it would have more an effect if I hunted down a wider variety of elected officials I could bother instead of instructing other people on how to bother theirs? Maybe going to protests (which would be a huge commitment due to distance) would be more effective than trying to help ensure that the effectiveness of "I actually have a vote and you are losing it" of calls has the weight of numbers behind it.

Especially since I did try to blaze it, and tumblr mods rejected the post. I don't know why. It's not against ToS, since none of it was disinformation or election interference, which is the only reason given on the FAQ for why things might not be approved for blazing, but who knows.

Maybe tumblr just decided the possible blowback on them for blazing a pro-ceasefire post would be too much.

I don't know. I just... it's just really disheartening to try to help and it gets stymied because, as much effort as it might be, it doesn't reach more than a (comparatively) tiny audience, especially when my relatively low-effort polls and shitposts get easily ten times as many notes with way less energy put in.

EDIT: This is not a post that I need to have reblogged. this is just me bitching. This a vent post. What I am asking people to reblog is my activism posts that I spend hours on to try and help nudge things in a better direction. Please reblog THOSE. This one doesn't need reblogging unless you have an actual comment. Reblogging this post just to reblog, with neither useful comment nor encouragement, is not helping me with my issue of 'not paid, not making an impact' or helping with any important causes.

[velvetstreets]

R U Mine?

None of the people in my writings portray the actual people I write about! It’s all a work of fiction, I have no idea how they are/act irl.

Warnings: SMUUUTTTT, penetrative sex (f!receiving), swearing, daddy kink, breeding kink, basically Jack claiming reader in every way possible.

————————————————————-

The car was silent as your driver drove you and Jack home from an event. The tension between you two was thick, but you knew relief was close, about 4 minutes away according to google maps. You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, playing the night back in your head.

“It’s because you didn’t say shit Jack! You basically condemned her behavior? And you expect me not to be mad about that?”

“The fuck was I supposed to say?” He argued.

“Ummm, I don’t know Jack, maybe that you have a fucking girlfriend? Or just tell her not to send her tits to you in general? You cannot be this dense.”

“Ummm, I don’t know Jack, maybe that you have a fucking girlfriend? Or just tell her not to send her tits to you in general? You cannot be this dense.”

“She already knows you and I are together. I don’t know why she sent that shit, but she knows I’m with you. Why should I reply to her and play into her game? She’s just tryna start shit, and it’s clearly working. I just didn’t think you’d eat it up so easily.” He shook his head.

“She already knows you and I are together. I don’t know why she sent that shit, but she knows I’m with you. Why should I reply to her and play into her game? She’s just tryna start shit, and it’s clearly working. I just didn’t think you’d eat it up so easily.” He shook his head.

“Are you serious right now? It’s not about her, it’s about YOU. I expect shit like this from your ex flings, but I expect you to act like my fucking boyfriend! Sometimes I don’t feel like your mine, and I’m yours. Like we’re us.”

“You don’t feel like you’re mine?” Jack whipped his head towards you, the anger that was once on his face, now replaced with confusion and slight shock.

Your alarm went off, signaling it was more than time to leave.

“Fuck. And now we gotta go to this fucking event. Fuck it, whatever. Let’s go, we’re already late.” You sighed, picking up your things and heading for the door.

“No, we’re not done with this.” Jack reached out for your arm, making you halt your footsteps.

“Yes we are. We’re late, and I’m tired of fighting with you Jack, tired of looking at your fucking face right now, asshole.” You looked him dead in the eye.

He grumbled and grabbed his keys from the table before the two of you left.

You and Jack had fought before heading to the event, to which you both had to put on smiles and warm energy- the antithesis of what you were both feeling at the moment. What really pushed you over the edge was the fact that Jack paid no attention to you the entire night. You knew you were technically, partly, in the wrong, but it was due to a misunderstanding between the two of you. Jack had gotten DMs from an old acquaintance that were… sexual, to say the least. He didn’t invite her behavior nor did he condone it, but he didn’t do anything about it. Just left her on read. You were conflicted; on the one hand, you shouldn’t be mad at him, he didn’t ask for any of that attention. However, he didn’t make any definitive moves to make it clear to her that he had a long term girlfriend who he loved and didn’t outwardly reject her advances. You tried to brush past your fight, but he was still tense and annoyed, which just further irritated you, he was acting childish.

As frustrated as you were with him, you couldn’t help but admire how fucking delicious he looked. His hair had grown out a little, which you loved- giving you access to play with his curls mindlessly, as well as tug on them when he ate you out. He wore all black- a mock shirt sleeved turtle neck, with a silk shirt over it and leather pants. Adorning his face were his black rimmed Prada glasses, and around his neck was his diamond Kentucky chain, sparkling in the lights. He looked too fucking good, but you weren’t gonna be the one to cave first.

Unbeknownst to you, Jack felt the same way about you. He was still a little fired up from your fight, but he couldn’t help but steal glances at your appearance. You wore a black silk dress to match with Jack, which hugged your curves perfectly. The hem was low enough just for your breasts to peek out teasingly- and fit you snugly enough to go braless; and the slit on your right side left little to Jack’s imagination as his eyes wandered up your exposed thigh. He wanted nothing more than to rip your dress and fuck you raw on the table in front of all the guests at the venue; but he had a job to do, and because he was still upset, he dove into work mode instead, unintentionally yet very intentionally ignoring you.

You quietly huffed and rolled you eyes every time Jack spoke or tried to initiate any physical touch with you; something that no one took notice of - except Jack. If he was gonna act like this, then so would you. You were perfectly pleasant with everyone you mingled with, continuously downing a few drinks throughout the night, but every time Jack got near you or you heard his voice or even just his name being mentioned, you scoffed.

Finally, Jack had enough with your attitude. He walked over to where you were at the bar.

“Let’s go.” He said calmly, not wanting to attract attention.

“I don’t wanna go yet.” You coldly brushed him off, sipping at your drink.

“We’re leaving Y/N.” Jack grunted, his glasses were now off as he gave you a serious look.

“I don’t give a fuck, you can go, I’m staying.” You rolled your eyes again.

“All you wanna do is fight with me today huh? We’re going home now, cause it seems as if I need to fuck the brat out of you. Car. Now. Y/N.” Jack growled, his tone dripping in frustration and lust. Your core tightened at his words, the alcohol fueling your arousal.

You were now a minute away from Jack’s apartment, and Jack still hadn’t said a word to you; it didn’t matter though, the tent in his pants and the bouncing of his right leg told you everything you needed to know. As the car rolled to a stop outside the building, Jack thanked the driver and then laid his warm palm on your knee, giving it a squeeze.

“Let’s go sweetheart.” His tone sickeningly sweet, but you knew the punishment you were in for.

You and Jack got out the car and he walked around next to you, his hand resting on your hip with a tight grip. You walked into the building, greeting those at reception, and kept moving towards the elevators. It was silent as you rode in the enclosed room, the only sound heard was each other’s breathing.

“Jack-“ you started.

“No. Don’t wanna hear a word out of you unless you’re whining about how good I’m fucking you.” He said sternly, still not looking at you.

It was unusual that Jack wouldn’t make eye contact with you, usually it was the other way around, you wouldn’t always be able to hold his stare; but now he wouldn’t give you a glance.

The elevator opened on your floor, Jack grabbing your hand and pulling you out quickly, the alcohol and the ache from standing in your heels all night made it difficult to keep up with his long strides.

“Keep up darling, if you think you can’t walk now, just wait until the morning.” He seethed, opening the apartment door, signaling for you to enter. The door closed behind him, and he started to take his chain off, ripping it off in frustration.

“Bedroom. Right fuckin’ now. And I swear to fucking god if you’re not naked in the next 2 minutes Y/N-“ he growled. You bit your lip, core clenching at his tone as you proceeded to quickly run to your shared bedroom.

You tore your dress off, followed by your panties, leaving you just in your heels. You sat on the bed to take them off, before Jack’s voice stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on.” He said, his tone dark as he leaned against the doorframe. You swallowed hard as his dark demeanor walked before you, towering over your frame. You scooted to the middle of the bed and laid down, anticipation burning at your core, not knowing what Jack had in store for you.

Jack grabbed a black tie that was laid across the end of the duvet; thrown on the bed in a careless manner when he was putting together his outfit earlier, and walked towards the head of the bed, taking your wrists and tying them tight against the headboard. “Since you wanna be such a fucking brat, the only way I’ll get you to listen to me is if I tie you down, like a slut. That’s what you are, ain’t you baby?” He taunted you, pulling on the tie again to make sure it was secure.

“You’re the fuckin’ slut.” You spit at him.

“Awww, that ain’t how you supposed to talk to Daddy now, is it?” He kept mocking you, walking to the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it out of sight. His toned arms were now on display, accentuated by his white undershirt as he bent down to grab at something you couldn’t see. The way his stomach flexed his fit figure through his tank made your core clench. You were desperate to see all of him, and you knew he would drag this out before he got undressed.

You let out a whine as you finally saw what it was he was looking for; a spreader bar. Jack smirked as he uncuffed the cuffs, slipping an ankle through each one, strapping you in securely. Your stomach was swirling with excitement and lust.

“Jack-“ you said in a breathy tone.

“What’d I say?” He questioned you, ceasing his actions to look up at you, icey blue eyes staring into yours. You were silent, knowing it was gonna be worse if you spoke.

“Oh, now you start to listen to me? Filthy fuckin’ girl, ain’t you?” He chuckled to himself, before abruptly adjusting the bar so your legs spread as far as they could. You felt a delicious burn run through your thighs, the feeling of you being pulled apart for Jack to devour you drove you crazy.

He crawled on top of you, eyes burning through yours, your breath shaky as his was calm.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you cry, until you can understand that you’re mine, and I’m yours.” He muttered.

He leaned down to your ear, his hot breath fanning over the skin.

“Safe word?” His tone was now gentler.

“Peaches.” You whispered.

“Good girl.” He smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before his dark demeanor returned. Jack climbed off of you, and stood at the end of the bed, admiring the sight of you.

Another mischievous chuckle left his mouth, eyes darkening as he knelt down in front of your legs.

“So pretty..” he muttered, his fingers tracing your feet in your heels, up your legs and thighs. You shivered as your core clenched around nothing, goosebumps erupting all over your skin. “Such a shame you’re so bratty.”

Without warning, Jack drove his face into your pussy, messily licking, sucking, eating you out.

“Fuck, Jack!” You cried out, your pussy finally being tended to after hours of tension. He was relentless, eating you like it was his last meal. 

“Shit, shit- oh god!” you gasped, squirming in his grip, wrists pulling against his tie, knees buckling slightly inwards; the spreader bar resisting your movements. 

Jack hummed against your clit, inwardly laughing at your desperation. Continuing to suckle your nub, he worked two fingers inside your pussy, a soft squelching noise echoing the room. He released your clit with a small ‘pop’, and you let out a whine in response. His fingers continued to thrust in you, back and forth, the pads of his fingers curling and rubbing against that perfect spot.

“Oh fuck- yesyesyes” you moaned out, your fingernails making small crescents in your palms as you tightly made fists; rutting your hips to meet Jack’s thrusts with his fingers, your orgasm so close you could almost taste it. And then suddenly it stopped.

You let out a broken whine as your eyes flashed open, forehead creased in confusion and agony.

“W-why? I was almost there?” You groaned.

“Only good girls get to cum. And I’m still dealing with a whiny brat.” Jack said, lightly brushing his fingers against your clit, making you shiver in horny desperation. You heard him chuckle before meeting his eyes as he licked your essence off his fingers. “You do taste so fucking phenomenal though. Always do.” He said honestly.

“Fuck, Jack…” you exhaled.

“What baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Stop teasing.” You snapped at him, impatient.

“Now, now angel” he tsked, “that’s not how good girls talk. Try again sweetheart.” His hands now groping and massaging your hips and thighs.

“I- please..” you trailed off weakly.

“C’mon mamas, use your big girl words like you did earlier. Tell Daddy what you want. What you need.”

“Need you to fuck me Jack. Please. I can’t take it anymore-“ you begged.

Jack smirked and stood up, removing his clothes until he was fully naked. His thick cock stood tall, dripping with precum, making your mouth water. He climbed on top of you, slotting himself between your aching spread legs.

“Yeah? You want me? Cause a couple hours ago you couldn’t stand to look at me.” He teased, leaving sloppy kisses down your neck and onto your chest; his dick sliding against your folds, tip deliciously bumping into clit.

“Didn’t mean it. W-was pissed at you. I didn’t mean it, I don’t mean it.” You told him breathlessly.

Jack lifted his head from your neck and brought you into a soft, passionate kiss, causing you to moan in his mouth.

“S’okay baby.” He chuckled. “Know you didn’t mean it. Gonna fuck you so good, the only name you’ll remember is mine. Cause I’m yours; only yours.” He cooed in your ear as he slowly sunk into you.

You let out a satisfied cry, his dick stretching your walls out deliciously, you felt every curve, every vein of him, filling you perfectly.

“Fuck.” He exhaled. “This pussy always swallows me whole. Just like that mouth of yours.” He chuckled darkly before bringing you into a hot kiss. Jack angled your hips and started to fuck you into oblivion, his grip on you tight as he nipped your neck with teeth while you cried out in euphoria.

“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I’ve wanted you.” He began. “I have you, and I still desperately want you like you’re gonna slip away from me tomorrow.” He grunted in your ear as he continued to fuck you senseless. You wanted to respond, but all you could manage to let out were moans and cries, his cock pushing up against your g-spot.

Jack’s thumb pushed in-between your bodies to rub at your clit. The newly added sensation made your eyes roll back, brokenly whining out at the restrains you were in. You wanted to touch him, dig your nails into his skin, get increasingly closer to him. Luckily for you, Jack felt the same and decided to untie your hands, but he left the spreader bar as is.

“Fuck yes, Jack- oh my fucking god.” You moaned.

“I am so fucking hopelessly yours Y/N. You see that baby? Look at em, open your eyes.”

You managed to lift your eyelids and look at what Jack was talking about. The two astronaut necklaces you wore were now attached at the magnet as Jack hovered over you, grinding his hips against yours.

“I’m completely and utterly lost without you. I’m miserable even if I’m having a good day, until I see your face again. I’m yours. You’re mine.” He told you, ice blue eyes never leaving yours.

“I love you. So fuckin’ much, beautiful. You’re my girl. My everything.” He slowed his rhythm down, gently rocking into you as he kissed your neck, up along your jaw, where he made his way to your lips.

“I love you too, Jack. So, so much. So much, baby.” You felt the pent up anger from before, flow away from your body as you craved to be closer and closer to him, you wanted to live in his goddamn skin you loved him so much. Jack gently shushed you, kissing you softly before pressing his forehead against yours, looking down between you.

“They’re made for each other, just like we are. See?” He signaled down to your necklaces again, until your vision focused and saw what he really meant; his cock slick with your sex, slowly thrusting in and out your pussy. You clenched at the sight, letting out a soft whine, and Jack groaned at you tightening around him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, do that again baby.” His movements speeding up again. You clenched around him again and he let out a hot moan that made you shiver. Jack’s thrust grew quicker and quicker, the warm tight coil in your stomach tightening.

The smell of sex filled the bedroom, your feet aching at your heels and the restraint of the spreader bar, you were so close to cumming you felt tears slip the corner of your eyes.

“Aw sweetheart, you gonna cum? Yeah, angel?”

“Yes Jack, fuck-“ your nails dug into his back as you cried out.

“I’m yours Y/N. Yours. Gonna let me make you mine indefinitely? Will you let me pretty girl?” His tone was stern, but his words soft as he looked in your eyes.

“Fuck yes, I’m yours -do it, do it Jack, claim me.” You begged him as you wrapped your legs around him tighter.

His hips snapped faster, his high, and yours approaching quickly. “So fucking tight baby. This pussy is mine, m’gonna stuff you full with my cum, and you’re not gonna let any of it out, right princess? Gotta keep it safe for me, safe for Daddy yeah? Gonna make sure you get pregnant tonight; can’t wait to watch you grow our kid inside you, have everyone know I did that to you, have my kid, make you my wife, and then fuck you again and again, as many times and as many kids as you want baby.”

That’s all it took for you to be pushed over the edge. You let out a pornographic moan as your orgasm crashed over you. You felt like you were body was being electrocuted in the best way; as you were falling in a pit of euphoric bliss. You’re orgasm triggered Jack’s as you squeezed around his cock at a suffocatingly tight pressure, feeling his hot spurts of cum paint your walls. He let out a hot moan, grunting as he thrusted his final thrust into you.

The room was silent except for yours and Jack’s heavy breathing. Sweat slowly traveled down his hairline into yours, your skin hot and sticking to each other as the two of you were enveloped in an overwhelming level of body heat. Jack’s full weight rested against you, his chest hair lightly stretching your chest, his lips, finding yours again, softly kissing you before smattering kisses all over your face.

Jack’s hand came up and intertwined with yours as you both laid there.

“I love you, and I’m fucking stupid. I’m sorry.” He finally spoke, removing his face from your neck, laying it on your shoulder.

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re not stupid, Jack. You were wrong, but so was I. We both were.” Your free hand came up to play with his curls as you placed a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“Still, you’re right; I should have said something. Shouldn’t have opened her message in the first place. I’ll block her.” He exhaled, nuzzling into you.

“You don’t have to do that. Matter’fact, I have a better idea.” You looked down at him with a sly grin.

You grabbed his phone and fiddled with it, before typing a little.

“Enough about her. I’m not done with you, babygirl.” He growled, kissing down your body before settling between your legs, hungrily nipping at your inner thighs before delving into your pussy, face first.

You bit your lip, struggling to contain a moan, before breaking out a small smile. You looked down at your boyfriend before snapping a pic.

@jackharlow: he’s busy babe. Go bother someone else.

Attached was a picture of Jack eating you out, his grip on your hips tight and desperate, while he ate you out relentlessly.

You moaned loudly as his tongue worked his magic on you, tossing his phone to the ground before surrendering yourself completely to his assault of pleasure on your body.

————————————————���———

Tag list: @hoodharlow @moody4world @watercolorskyy @lcandothisallday @harlowthot @triplexdoublex @thinkingaboutjharlow @bbyharlow @jackharlows-world @primadxna-girl @curlyhairclub @dessmxsworld @inluvwithladybug @babyharleezy @thysagclub @harlowcomehome @rebelxsun