#sees son. doesn’t recognize son. won’t hurt son

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + fourteen

authors note: swear this was the chapter that never fucking ended. it's essentially part one because even with how long it is, i still have a lot to cover. 😩

anywayssss, some foreshadowing, a ton of fluff, and some long awaited moments below.

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

cw/tw: fluff, angst, smut

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

masterlist

words: 15k (sorrows, sorrows, prayers)

“Did they hurt?” The question is asked while sitting on top of Roman’s lap, the default seat for her, it seems, whenever she’s in his presence. Her fingers ghost over his inked skin, slightly fascinated by the intricacies of the design. Tribal. A nod to his heritage and his story.

Like most, if not all things with Solana, he answers truthfully. “Not really, but I have a high pain tolerance, so it’s hard to say.” For some reason, that makes her frown a bit. Was that a natural inherited thing or some level of tolerance built up from years of said pain? “Do you want any?”

She nods, tracing one of the patterns with her finger. “In Mexican culture, Hummingbirds represent many things. Strength. Love. But, the thing my mom always focused on and stressed to me is they’re also messengers from the spirits in heaven. That…they remind us of lost loved ones.” Her shoulders lift a little. Small, sad smile on her face. “Sometimes, I think I’d like to get one tattooed on me. Like…like a tribute to her, but then I think about the needle and don’t know if that could trigger me somehow.”

It could trigger from a couple different angles, but namely her trauma with knives as well as her history of self-harming. But, Solana is certain Roman already recognizes this, thus her not going into specifics. “I don’t know. I’ll….I’ll think about it some more.”

Roman nods, offering, “if you decide to get it, I’ll go with you.” 

It’s a thoughtful gesture, not entirely surprising. Solana is starting to recognize there’s very little the man underneath her wouldn’t do for her. 

Appreciatively kissing his cheek, she murmurs, “thank you.” Biting on her lip, she foolishly tries to see if she can get something else out of him. “Speaking of going….”

Roman chuckles. “I’m not telling you.” He rolls his eyes as she pouts almost, his thumb going to her cheek, the cut almost entirely healed. “You’ll find out in a couple hours.”

It’s been almost a week since the gala, and the temperature has settled tremendously. Roman still doesn’t like thinking about it, thinking about how he lost his fucking shit but mostly at the fact that Solana was attacked. 

He’s about to start having someone with her at all times. Even in the bathroom. 

Roman has also noticed there seems to be some conflicted emotions on Solana’s end regarding what happened in the bathroom. Namely because she caught wind of Wes injuries, injuries that are truly tame compared to what Roman would have done and will do once he gets his hands on that son of a bitch.

But, he is him, and Solana is her. They are very different people. She is gentle where he is hard, so while there is still that adrenaline and proudness she was experiencing at defending herself as well as she did, he can see it’s something that’s bothering her.

He’s tried to bring it up, but she shuts down, so he’s left it alone out of respect.

But, with her birthday being tomorrow and them leaving in a couple hours for their trip, he’s hopeful getting away will be good for her. For them. 

She then asks a bit of a silly question considering who she’s talking to. Roman plans for every little thing, from the most major detail to the thing that most likely won’t happen but still serves as something that needs to be accounted for. “Is….is it at least domestic? I don’t have a passport.” 

“Yes, you do.” He opens the first drawer of his desk, pulling out a small Louis Vuitton passport cover and hands it to her.

Solana looks down with a gasp seeing that she, in fact, has a passport. A brand new, unstamped passport. “How did you—”

An easy answer. “I’m a billionaire, Solana. There’s nothing I can’t buy or make happen.”

It makes sense, but it doesn’t do much to chip away the tremendous amount of guilt and how bad she feels in learning that Roman’s birthday was back in May, and no one said or did a thing about it or acknowledged it.

She can still feel her stomach dropping when she asked a few days about when his is, and he calmly informed that it had already passed. That hurt. Truly. To know what should be a special occasion was essentially treated as any other day.

His explanation made sense. He expressed not liking to acknowledge his birthday because of what happened when he was 10. She can understand that. She does understand that, but it doesn’t make her feel any less sad at the fact that she didn’t even know it was her husband’s freaking birthday. 

Solana expresses said concern. “But…it’s….it’s not fair we’re doing all this for my birthday, and I didn't even know yours—”

“Hey—” He interrupts her, his hands cupping her face. “Don’t do that.” He pushes back some of her hair. “My story is my story. Not yours.” She opens her mouth clearly to protest or counter when his eyes take on a mischievous glint. “Besides, seeing you half naked most of the day for a week? Might as well be my fucking birthday.”

Solana rolls her eyes. He has a way of making her feel better in the most interesting and often raunchy sort of way. Blushing and smiling at his suggestive comment, she shrugs, admitting, “there are more bathing suits in my suitcase than clothes.”

“Good. The less clothes you have on, the better.” Her cheeks must be a red mess. Roman taps on her hip, gesturing for her to stand up. He also stands and takes her hand in his. “Come here. There’s something I want to show you.”

Solana looks down at her outfit which is most definitely nothing appropriate enough to leave the house in. “Are we leaving the house or—”

“No.” His answer is simple and to the point that she doesn’t really press him for more information as he guides her through the house. A frown does fall on her face, however, when she sees he’s taken her down the hall where he’d said construction was previously taking place.

It’s only then she finally asks, “what—”

“Close your eyes.”

Solana makes a face. “Roman, what are you—”

He steps towards her, pushing back her hair. “You know I don’t like repeating myself.” If she was anyone else, Solana is certain his tone would be much different. A lot darker, harsher. But, it’s not. Just….strangely calm. 

Blowing out a breath, she relents, realizing there’s not really an option for anything else. “Okay.” Shutting her eyes, she allows him to continue to guide her, stopping for a moment as she hears a door open. He directs her to walk through said opened door followed by a light switch, the presence of that light shining against her closed eyes. 

Solana feels him shift behind her, his arms snaking around her, mouth dipping to her ear. “Open em’.”

Solana doesn't need to be told twice, and as soon as they’re open, a gasp leaves her mouth. Naturally, she walks away from him, deeper into the room that has an open floor plan, walls almost entirely lined with white, empty shelves. Bookshelves. Against the walls and the cutout part of the room. Not to be confused with the other nook that’s occupied by seating, pillows, and anything else someone would need if indulging in reading or writing.

Walking further into the space, she sees another area clearly curated for another purpose. Art. A table to create on, two easels, countless art supplies all perfectly situated near the bay window that allows for natural sunlight. 

The perfect place to create. 

Taken completely back by the surprise of it all, Solana turns to Roman, stammering to ask, “is–is this for me?”

“You know it’s damn sure not for me.” He steps toward her again, gently pulling her against him. “You were outgrowing that space. And your journals are personal. They shouldn’t be kept at work.” His thumb brushes across her bottom lip. “They should be here. This is your home now.”

“Roman….” She looks around again, tears growing in her eyes. 

He continues to explain. “It would have been ready sooner, but when I found out you like art, I had them add that.” He gestures to the corner that has to be any artist's dream. “I’m not smart about a lot of that shit, so just let me know anything else you ne—”

He’s silenced by Solana practically jumping him, angling her body to face him as she wraps her arms around his neck. A hug, deep and sentimental. It takes him off guard for a second, Roman unused to such….affection.

But, the discomfort settles into something that almost feels natural. His hand on the small of her back as he chuckles. “I’m gonna take it that you like it then.” It’s not necessarily a question as much as an assessment. 

She gives a watery chuckle, pulling back and nodding. “I love it.” Her voice breaks. “No…..no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” It goes without saying this doesn't include her mom, who Roman is almost certain did more for her than anyone ever could. Especially when she needed it the most.

Doesn’t mean he can’t do his part though. 

She swallows, whispering as he wipes away her tears. “Thank you.” 

“What I tell you about that, huh?” He ghosts his lips over hers, reminding yet again. “You never have to thank me for anything.” Roman kisses her forehead, seeing how her eyes shut from feeling content and partially overwhelmed. It brings a small smile to his face. “Happy birthday, Solana….”

________

“Oh my god….”

Roman doesn’t have to be looking up to know what’s caught Solana’s attention. It’s obvious by the way the SUV has come to a stop, shifting into park as they’ve clearly reached their destination.

And she’s clearly looking up at said destination. Well, the conduit to help them travel to said destination.

When he finishes sending out an email, one of the last before he goes into somewhat work blackout—because he never be fully disconnected—he looks up to see Solana still staring out the window. 

“Is that….is that a private jet?”

Smirking, Roman slides his phone in his bag and removes his seatbelt. “You really think I fly commercial?”

It’s not intended to come across as rude, and it isn't judging by her small smile. “They’re bigger than I imagined….”

“Mine is.” Double entendre, if he really wanted to make her blush, but he keeps it PG. For now. “I’m tall. Need the leg room.”

Roman exits the SUV at the same time the driver opens the door for Solana to do the same. He easily circles back around to her just in time for her to sling her small backpack on her shoulder and adjust her ball cap. In sneakers without any sort of height boost, she looks even tinier than she already is, especially compared to his massive build. 

Taking her hand, Roman asks, “you ready?”

She nods as he leads them over to the descended stairs where the pilot and two flight attendants stand outside, greeting them. The older man, Bob, he thinks, lifts his hat and nods respectfully in their direction.

“Mr. Reigns. Mrs. Reigns. Everything is just as you requested.”

Roman only gives a nod to acknowledge things being exactly as they should. His way.

He motions for Solana to walk up ahead of him, mainly so he can enjoy the view of her ass in the tight ass outfit she has on but also out of manners.

Manners he only seems to be able to find in her presence. 

She loiters a bit near the entrance, moving aide for him to also fully enter but still stands almost frozen, clearly taken back by the interior. 

“This is….”

“The best,” he finishes for her, tossing his bag on the closest beige sofa that lines both sides of the jet. Roman moves over to her, hand palming her ass as he dips his head to whisper in her ear. “I don’t accept anything less.”

She giggles against him, the sound hands down one of the best songs on the soundtrack when they’re interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Momentarily considering murder for probably the fifth time today, Roman turns to see Paul standing at the bottom of the steps. Roman literally forgot this man was in the SUV behind them, coming to see them off.

Paul lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, asking with all of the unease. “A word, please, my Tribal Chief?”

The automatic answer would be no if not for Solana turning around and placing her hand on his chest. A frequent gesture he never gets tired of. Any touch from her is always welcomed.

Her smile dips a bit as she asks with the same level of unease shared by Paul, “is—is it okay if I look around?”

Her question makes him scowl. Her asking him permission to do anything feels uncomfortable as fuck. “You don’t have to ask my permission for shit. Anything that’s mine is yours.”

His answer seems to ease her anxiety at least as she nods, kisses his cheek and starts to explore the rest of the jet. Roman’s eyes linger on her a bit before he switches his attention to his annoying ass head council.

Stomping down the steps with all of the agitation, he barks, “talk.”

Paul clears his throat, and Roman’s already regretting his decision to choose his Wise Man over his fine ass wife.

“Sir, I—I understand you wanting to take the girl—”

“Solana,” Roman corrects one time only. Because that was Paul’s one time referring to Solana as anything other than her name or his wife. “Her name is Solana.”

Paul swallows. “Of course.” He’s a quick learner, smartly running it back for a second, correct time. “I understand you wanting to take Solana away for her birthday, but is the timing really great? There’s so much work—”

“There’s always work to do, Wise Man. That’s why I delegated the appropriate tasks to cover the appropriate work while I’m gone.” It was a bit trickier than that as delegation has never been a preference for Roman. His ultimate preference is to always handle shit on his own. And truth be told, he made sure to sign off, approve, create, and orchestrate any major moves that needed to be done before leaving. The remaining tasks were split among Jimmy, Jey, and Rikishi. And he has no doubt they’ll be on top of it. Because as always, when it comes to business, the twins never miss. It’s just any other time they’re bumbling idiots who give Roman migraines from time to time. 

“Of course. Always so conscientious, my Tribal Chief.” Paul’s smile makes Roman want to turn and walk away yet again for the second time in two minutes. Granted, that’s his usual disposition when interacting with anyone other than his wife. “I just—for you to be out of the country for almost a week. Well, it’s just—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s eyes light up, and it has nothing to do with the sun that’s shining in his direction. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“How long have I been the Tribal Chief?”

The answer is almost instantaneous, a small smile falling on Paul’s pudgy face. “Since you were eighteen-years-old.”

“How old am I now?”

“My Tribal Chief turned 39 on May 25th of this year.”

“And in all that time, how many vacations have I taken?”

There’s brief hesitation, eyes traveling for a brief second, searching for the answer. “N–none, my Tribal Chief.”

“Exactly.” Roman lifts his shades and sets them atop his head. “So, if I want to take a couple fucking days off to help my wife celebrate her birthday, then that’s what I’m gonna fucking do, and I don’t have to answer to a damn person about it. Because I feel like you’re questioning me, Wise Man, and I don’t get questioned. Is that understood?”

Paul’s fat cheeks are painted an ugly shade of red as he stammers out, “y–yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Semi pleased with the acquiescence, Roman turns around and calls out coldly, “only contact me for emergencies.”

Roman is almost certain Paul will be too scared shitless to risk his wrath with an outreach that’s only subjectively considered an emergency vs Roman’s definition. He’ll probably task Rikishi or the twins with the task. 

Roman would prefer their old man over them. Less antics and constant triggers for his anger.

The head of the table finds his wife still in the main section of the jet, sitting down on the sofa, legs pulled up under her, phone in hand. Hearing his return, she smiles, sharing, “I was just texting Naomi to make sure she grabbed Dulce’s favorite toy.”

Roman chuckles and walks over, joining her on the sofa. “The dog has a favorite toy?”

Smiling, she explains, “it’s the one she plays with the most. Her avocado.” Solana angles her body so she’s facing him more versus the other sofa that lines the other side of the plane. “Do—do you think she’ll be okay? We’ve never left her before.”

To be fair, Roman briefly thought about that. She’s so fucking little and still a puppy, so leaving her could be risky. But, he also knows that damn thing seems to always be hopping on Naomi and Bayley’s lap, so she should be fine.

“She’ll probably sleep the majority of the time we’re gone.”

Solana rolls her pretty eyes, her mouth curving into a small smile. “I’m serious, Roman.”

“So am I.” He sighs and brings his arm around her, pulling her into his side. “She’ll be fine, Solana. It’s not like we left her with Jey and psycho ass Nicki with their bad ass kids.”

Forever the saint, she pouts and lightly scolds him. “That’s not nice. I’m sure they’re not bad.”

“You ain’t met them yet,” Roman scoffs. “Why you think Jey always at our place?”

Smiling cheekily, she gently points out, “you said it’s because I keep feeding them.”

“That too.” Roman trails his finger up and down her upper forearm, her soft skin a contrast to his coarse fingertips. Her perfume, something sweet, vanilla, and gourmand doesn’t help him keep focus on the conversation nor the fact that she’s so close to him, their bodies touching him. His desire for physical contact, of any kind, with her has been heightened a bit in recent days. “That’s why you don’t feed fucking strays. Cause they keep coming back.”

Solana peers up at him, giggling, “you’re so mean to them sometimes.” Shifting her position so that her legs are laid out the opposite side of Roman, her back pressed against his side. His big arm is over her chest, her hands on his forearm. “I think….I think you like them more than you let on.”

“Really?” 

She nods, further explaining. “I don’t….I don’t think you would let them be as close to you as they are if you didn’t.”

Perceptive. Roman pegged that about Solana a while ago, when they first started writing, her previous preferred form of communication. She’s not entirely wrong. As fucking crazy Jimmy and Jey drive Roman, they’ve also been the two best and really only examples of friendships he has. Not to mention they’re family. 

“They’re….tolerable.”

She looks up at him, asking almost nervously, “and what am I?”

Such a good question that’s both simple and complicated. The easy answer is his wife. That’s just fact. Law. But the complex answer, the complex answer is that she’s so much more than that. That she’s become so much more than that. Where Roman finds himself craving her presence. A rarity for someone who typically avoids and shies away from social interactions like the plague.

Dipping his head to kiss her forehead, he answers in a low, steady voice, “my Lo’u Au.”

Her eyes flutter shut a bit as she murmurs, “it’s not fair you say things to me you know I can’t understand.” Roman watches her once again move around, this time sliding one leg over so that she’s sitting on his lap, straddling him. He doesn’t hesitate in moving his hands to the bottom of her ass, lifting her so she’s closer to him, her breast nearly touching his chest. Solana tilts her head to the side, whispering, “Yo siento muy bien contigo.”

Having her like this, so close against him, it doesn’t help that resolve, doesn’t do shit about the fact that his dick stiffens whenever she touches him. Like she is now. His eyes dip to her lips, so soft and full. “And what does that mean?”

Solana also seems to be on the same wavelength, her eyes also dropping to his mouth as she whispers with a small smile. “I’ll tell you when you tell me.”

Eyes shutting, Roman groans and tugs her even closer, her arms around his neck. “God, you drive me fuckin’ crazy.” Roman kisses her. Kisses her with all of the intensity and desire and borderline need he harbors for this woman.

And then she moans. She fucking moans in his mouth. His dick nearly fucking jerks as he stands up with her in his arms, Solana gasping and breaking the kiss to look around. “Roman….”

He needs to have his mouth on her, lips kissing the underline of her jaw as he brings them to the back of the jet, to the bed. He’s careful in how he lays her down, mindful of how she tugs on his shirt, pulling him on top of her and resuming their passionate kiss. 

Roman’s hands roam her body, but he pays extra attention to her breast, so big and soft, pillow soft under his hand as he kneads them, mindful of the way her nipples continue to harden under his touch.

“Roman….” Solana is breathing heavily, once again breaking their kiss, something he would otherwise be objected to if not for the two tiny words that leave her mouth. “Touch me.” 

His eyes widen a bit as he asks, almost unsure he heard her right. “What?”

Mouth parted, she licks her lips and again reiterates her previous request. “I—I want you to touch me.”

If not for not wanting to insult her intelligence, he’d remind her he is. He's touching her everywhere she’s previously admitted him access to. But, Roman would never do that nor is he stupid. He knows exactly what she’s referring to. And there’s suddenly a part of him that feels bad, wonders if she somehow thought that was the reason for him taking them to the bed. It wasn’t that. He just wanted privacy, wanted to give her that privacy. 

“Solana, I wasn’t—”

“Roman,” she says his name again, firmer, more committed almost to her request. “I trust you.” Three words. Three little words that pack such a heavy, emotional punch. “You’re…you’re going to have to when we finally…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Pl—please.” 

He shuts his eyes, jaw clenching. That one word alone coming from her is such a dangerous thing. Dangerous because it's incapable to say no to.

But, he doesn’t necessarily have to because her hand is on his, slowly moving it down from her breast, traveling down the span of her stomach and the top of her black pants. But instead of remaining there, Solana guides it under her waistband, her tour stopping when the palm of his hand presses softly on her mons pubis, still protected under the cotton of her underwear. Her eyes shut at this contact, but it’s when his fingers flitter near the space between her legs that she gasps.

His eyes snap to hers as he’s quick to ask, “do you want me to stop?”

And she’s immediately shaking her head ‘no,’ explain, “I’m just—not used to it.” She’s already so sensitive to his touch. Roman can’t even imagine what this level of sensitivity is going to look like when they go all the way. “It’s okay.” She’s again reassuring him, even spreading her thighs a bit, giving him better access.

Roman is hard as a fucking rock, but he taps into expert level self-control as he moves his other hand to her waistband, giving a slight tug. “Can I?”

She answers in a soft voice. “Yes.”

Solana lifts her hips as he slides her black pants down her shapely legs, his mouth practically watering to see and have so much of her soft skin exposed to him. He moves his hand to caress the skin of her inner thighs. She sighs, content, and this serves as more motivation to continue his efforts in following through on her task. 

Again, he’s making sure to catch her gaze. “Do….”

And once again, she partially takes him by surprise as she closes her eyes and instead of giving him the approval to remove the only remaining article of clothing keeping her covered from him, Solana takes her fingers to her underwear and pushes down, lifting her hips slightly until they're hooked around her ankles and kicked onto the floor.

Mouth previously watering, Roman feels a sudden, intense amount of dehydration. She’s completely bare and exposed to him, her cunt so smooth and pretty, lips glistening already just from their makeout.

If not for her trauma, he’d have already had this woman more times than he could count.

But, he’d especially already had her in his mouth. Licking his lips, he does his best to keep composure, maintaining the maturity of a grown ass man vs a horny ass teenage boy whose balls haven’t even dropped.

Once more, he asks, “are you sure?”

It might be overkill to some, but one thing’s for certain, he would never go this far without gaining her consent every step of the way. 

She answers, “yes.” 

Roman nods, starting his hand at the top of her belly, gradually teasing it downward until he’s touching her, long fingers gently caressing her lips, the tips of his fingers gathering some of her essence. “How you already this wet for me?”

It’s more rhetorical than anything, but it’s partially fueled with how her stomach caves in a bit just at that initial touch. Her being so responsive to just his hands does wonders for his ego but also fuels his burning to just make her feel good.

Roman uses long, slow strokes along the areas of her vulva, never taking his eyes off her face, mouth dropping open, eyes slamming shut and head craning back. Pleasure. She feels pleasure. That’s what he wants to see. All he wants to see.

There’s not an ounce of discomfort in sight.

“Roman…” Her moaning his name might be his new favorite song. So needy and wanton. It’s got his erection fighting for its life in his boxers. “Shit….”

He smirks a bit. “Must be good if I got you cussing, baby.” It’s evident in the way she becomes swollen underneath his expert touch, eventually exposing her clit. And it’s then that he brings his thumb to her clit, pressing softly, satisfied when she arches against the bed. “That’s it….”

Such light touches, not a finger entered into her yet, and she’s already so wet. Largely due to sexual deprivation and being touch starved. Of that, he’s certain. To be almost thirty and have never been touched as such as a woman seems almost criminal. He wants to give it to her though. Give her that experience. Give her all of the experiences. 

He works his thumb around her swollen clitoris, small circles, her growing wetness all the lube and slip he needs to work her good, in the way she deserves, in only how he can have her.

“Oh my god…” She’s starting to squirm against the bed, and he fucking loves it. Loves seeing how worked up he can get her. It makes the anticipation of actually being inside of her that much better. He plays around with different touches, different techniques, studying closely what seems to evoke the strongest physical reaction. A sort of a game, a way for him to learn her body, to learn what she likes. But also, for her to learn what she likes.

“You okay?” He checks in with her, seeing her nod ‘yes’ almost frantically. If not for the fact he can see speech is a bit difficult right now, he’d press her on actual words. But, he can extend some grace. “So fucking wet….” She’s a wet, soaking mess, pussy soaking his fingers, her thighs, and the bed under her. Not that he gives a flying fuck. Seeing her like this is better than he could have imagined, just a taste of what it’ll be like to be inside of her. 

But, it’s when he teases a finger near her opening, so wet and sticky that he clenches his jaw. Just that slight probing, and he can already tell how tight she is, can imagine that tightness gripping the mess out of his dick.

Roman carefully enters one finger and observes the way she tenses, whimpers, the way her cunt clenches against him. “Relax….” He coaxes her, talks her through it, allows her to adjust to the unfamiliar stretch while his thumb continues to play with her clit, never once stopping her pleasure train. 

And when she’s adjusted, he enters another finger, stopping there, not wanting to push her too far, recognizing how big this is for her. But when she shifts again, almost rocking against his fingers, Roman responds to her, moving in sync, staying along with her song and dance. He works with her, making the hitherto motion while his other fingers continue to rub and caress her into that higher room, that place of ecstasy. 

Roman can see it coming, can see her coming, see the way she starts to grip the sheets, the biting of her bottom lip.

“I’m—I’m—”

“Ride it out, baby. Let me see how pretty you look when you come on my hand.” His words of affirmation seem to take her over the edge, damn near her entire upper half arching off the bed, her body writing as she gives into the bliss, staying on that train to euphoria. 

Roman keeps his fingers inside of her just long enough to feel that fucking amazing sensation of making her come yet again, and he can’t help himself as he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, tasting and licking off every bit of her. His eyes shut at her taste, just as fucking sweet as he imagined. 

God, he can’t wait to have this woman. 

Coming to, Solana sits up on her elbows a bit, looking down, becoming aware of just how messy things got. And she seems a bit embarrassed, offering what’s surely the start of an unnecessary apology. “I–oh my—I didn’t.”

Roman says nothing, just gets up and moves to the bathroom, grabbing a towel off the rack and bringing it to her. He’d clean her up himself, but he doesn’t necessarily trust himself to not try for take two.

Letting her handle it is the safest route, but he can work to dissuade any thought or feeling she might have that makes her think she did anything wrong.

“I’ll buy a new fucking mattress every damn day if it means I get to make you come like that.” 

Solana has cleaned herself and the bed as best she can as she reaches to slide her underwear back on. Roman has to push away his disappointment. She has such a pretty pussy. 

Her cheeks are red, partially because of what just occurred but also her naturally shy personality. “You’re really good at that.”

“I’m good at a lot of things, Solana.” He has every intention on eventually showing her just what those remaining things are, but time and place. 

He’ll be as patient with her as she needs. 

After Solana is all cleaned up, returned to a semi state of being adequately dressed, they fall into a sense of normalcy where she lays in bed, reading and writing a bit while he finishes up some work tasks on his laptop right beside her before she drifts off into a sleep that lasts longer than he was expecting.

He’s tempted to wake her when they start to descend, partially wanting her to look out the window at the clear, blue waters that he can admit are impressive looking. But, he decides against it, waiting until they’ve landed and are ready to exit the jet.

Gently shaking her shoulder, he stirs her, “Solana, wake up.” She does so relatively easily, pretty brown eyes blinking a little in confusion as he explains. “We made it.”

Those three words help bring her to a full state of consciousness. He smiles a bit seeing how she moves quicker than what’s probably necessary to get out of the bed and slide her shoes on, looking back at him and reaching for his hand.

Roman closes his laptop and does the same, taking her hand, guiding her out the jet. They’re both instantly met with an intense heat and radiating sun shining in their direction. They’re also met with the staff and security he made sure to have lined up and ready to go upon their arrival.  He walks out first, watching and taking her hand again as she follows him, face turned up in expected confusion. 

But, before she can ask anything, one of the men offers what may be a genuine smile. Not that Roman cares about that.

He flicks his gaze between the two of them. “Welcome to Isla Mujeres, Mr. and Mrs. Reigns….”

A loud gasp next to him is unsurprising, Solana almost spinning to look around, trying to process that she’s really standing on Mexican soil.

She eventually turns to him, eyes wide and then softening into something so warm and appreciative. “Roman…”

“It’s the only way I could get you to myself and away from my annoying ass cousins—” Once again, Roman is cut off by Solana throwing her body against his for a hug that results in him easily picking her up, her legs around his waist.. Similar to the embrace at the home library one. Emotional. Grateful. Happy.

She’s laughing a bit, even with tears burning her vision. “Thank you.”

Roman doesn’t correct her this time, just murmurs a ‘you’re welcome’ and kisses her temple. He  lets her back down, hand moving to her ass. “You’re gonna have to translate while we’re here though.”

Solana shakes her head. Such a small thing in exchange for such a major act of kindness. “That’s fine.” She holds onto his arm as the staff move to take their bags from the jet while security directs them to the SUV.

Solana is looking out the window almost the entire ride, captivated by the scenery, the landscape, the beauty of it all while he’s just focused on the beauty sitting right beside him.

She asks the driver something in Spanish, the answer putting an even bigger smile on her face. She turns to him, asking, “how long are we here for?”

“A week,” Roman answers, noticing the way her eyes light up even more. “Still think we shouldn’t have come?”

She rolls her eyes and playfully shoves her body against his, grabbing his arm and laying her head against his shoulder. “I just….I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“You could never inconvenience me. I do what I want. You know this.” His lips linger near her hairline. “And I wanted to do this for you.”

“Well, I’m appreciative. So much. You….you don’t know how much this means to me.” 

He thinks he has an idea. 

The ride from the airport to the house is approximately twenty minutes, and just like the moment Solana stepped foot off the jet, she’s got that same look of marvel painted all over her pretty place at the property.

Roman, meanwhile, is just satisfied the pictures didn’t lie. If anything, they didn’t do it justice. 

She’s almost like a child on Christmas as she asks with excitement, “is this where we’re staying?” Before he can answer, she’s indirectly apologizing. “Roman, you didn’t have to spend so much money on this place. We’re only going to be here a week. We could have just—”

“I’m rich, Solana. I only do ownership.”

Her jaw drops again. “You bought this?” He nods. She scoffs, looking around, trying to process the fact that she’s technically standing on her property. “So….so we could come back?” 

“I don’t know how often I could come with you, but you’re welcome to come and go as you please.” It goes without saying she’d have hefty security detail as well as either Bayley or Naomi attending, but beyond that, Roman could never see himself denying her this. Denying her the opportunity to connect more with her maternal side since the paternal side has only ever caused her nothing but heartache.

Here, there’s a chance to rewrite the chapter. 

She walks over to him, holding onto his forearm, asking almost tentatively. “Can I look around the house?”

“How about we do this instead?” She looks genuinely curious as he explains. “If it’s regarding your safety, you ask. If not, you just do it.” Roman’s unsurprised by her unsure expression. “I don’t get to decide how you live your life. That’s all you.”

“Unless it could present a safety risk?”

“Exactly. Cause in that case, the answer is probably no.” A part of him dislikes having a caveat, but in the world they live in, with him being who he is, he can’t take any risks. He won’t take any risks. Not when it comes to her.

Ever.

Solana nods as if she understands better now. She slides her hand down, taking his with hers as she lightly tugs on his arm. “Come with me.”

It’s an easy request. There’s not much she could ask he’d say no to. If anything. 

Solana is just as amazed by the inside of the house as the outside, especially the kitchen, the first thing she gravitates to. Naturally.

“We have to go shopping,” she shares. “So I can cook.”

“Solana, you’re not cooking while we’re here.” She frowns, a pout almost on her pretty face. “We’re celebrating your birthday. The fuck I look like you making you cook on something that’s supposed to be for you? I hired a chef for us.”

Her frown softens a bit as she lays her hand on his chest. “You’re not making me do anything. I—I like cooking. You know this.”

“I know you do, but I want you to relax and enjoy yourself while we’re here.” His hands move down to her ass. “Starting with the pool in the back.”

A small smile grows on her face. “There’s a pool?”

He nods, imagining that sexy body of hers clad in one of those skimpy two pieces he told Bayley and Naomi to make sure she purchased plenty of. “I told you. Half naked, baby.” She giggles as he squeezes her ass and lightly pushes on his chest, separating them.

“Where’s our bedroom?”

He has to think about it for a minute. “Down the hall. Should be the first or second room on the right.” Again, she grabs his hand, guiding them based upon his directions. Directions that prove correct, Solana once again taken back by the luxury of it all. The room is damn near bigger than some apartments and provides direct access to the back of the house which houses the pool and hot tub.

“This is all so beautiful…..”

“Hmmm.”

Solana briefly turns from looking out the door when two of the guards bring her and Roman’s luggage into the room. She thanks them, while Roman just seems to glare at them to get them to leave immediately, which they do.

Once alone, she turns to Roman, “can we—” He doesn’t even have to correct her. She does it all on her own. “I—I want to go see the beach.”

He smirks. Assertiveness looks damn good on her. “Then let’s go to the beach.”

________

Roman is both surprised and unsurprised when Solana walks out the bathroom, a cover up partially preventing him from seeing whatever bathing suit she picked. And his disappointment must show as she murmurs, “I’ll take it off when we get there.”

Feeling like it’ll help her feel a bit better, less self-conscious, he informs, “it’ll just be us. I had the beach….cleared, if you will.”

Obviously confused, she wonders aloud, “how….how do you clear a beach?” Solana gasps, lowering her voice as she asks in an almost scared tone. “Did you….did you kill anyone?”

“Not today. Not yet, at least.” The way her eyes widen a bit makes him chuckle. “I’m Roman Reigns, Solana.” He walks past her, adding with all of the arrogance that he can without a doubt back up, “I always get what I want.”

Solana says nothing. Not that she needs to say anything. However, she notices then what Roman was messing with on the bed before she walked out the bathroom. “What is this?” She walks over, reaching for but not touching the camera. “You bought a camera?”

“I’ve had that for years.”

Curious, she less asks and more makes a simple statement, sharing, “I didn’t know you were into photography.”

He shrugs, almost indifferent. Dismissive. “It’s an interest. Haven’t really done much of it in a while.”

“You should,” she encourages. Solana would love to see and support him embrace a side of him that isn’t so deeply embedded in his work that seems never ending. “Especially while we’re here. It’s all so beautiful…”

“I could photograph you and get the same result.”

She smiles, looking away while admitting, “I—I don’t really like having my picture taken.”

“Too bad.” She looks back at him, Roman explaining. “That’s also an insecurity thing. I told you. I’m not letting you feed your insecurities.”

A part of her is grateful for that, grateful for him. Appreciative that he always seems to remind her of these things that she still struggles to notice or believe about herself from time to time. Like the fact that she is beautiful.

“Okay,” she relents, partially knowing it’s not like Roman will give in anyway. “But…but you can’t show them to anyone.”

“Solana, I don’t like sharing you with anyone as it is. You really think I’m trying to share some pictures?” It’s a fair, valid point. “No, I won’t show them to anyone.”

Pleased with the acknowledgement, the two finish getting ready and are out the door in less than 20 minutes. Given the fact that the property is more or less on the water, they opt, more Solana, asks to walk versus driving. Roman isn’t opposed. The beach is cleared, security is roaming the property, not to mention it’s a beautiful day.

Plus, he enjoys intentionally lagging a bit behind to enjoy the jiggle of her ass as she walks ahead of him.

Truly a win-win for all.

The minute she steps foot onto the sand, enters onto the actual beach, there’s a bit of a shift. Nothing negative. The complete opposite. Roman can sense her emotion growing, the reality of finally being in her mom’s home country truly settling in. 

He’s partially surprised by just how quickly she moves to the actual water, standing in the space where sand and ocean meet.

“My mom was right….” His gaze falls on her. “It’s so beautiful.” She steps forward a bit more, wind pushing the water closer as it grazes her feet. “I want to go in.” Another slight surprise, but not entirely. A part of the reason he’s been having her get in the pool was for this very moment, to lessen and minimize her fear so she could truly embrace this experience for all it can offer.

He nods but gestures to the camera bag. “Pictures first.”

She scowls a bit, and he chuckles, pulling the camera out. “Roman…”

“Non-negotiable, baby.” And she knows this, knows he’s not letting up when it comes to building her self-esteem and demolishing her body insecurity.

“Okay….” It feels a bit strange at first, posing as Roman snaps photos of her. She’s more than certain the first set of photos look just as awkward as she feels. But as time passes and with his encouragement and slight guidance, the awkwardness melts into something similar to relaxation. Her smile is a natural thing vs the result of being told to smile. 

And even when he tells her to remove the cover up, there’s some level of apprehension about being photographed in her bathing suit, but there’s also a level of confidence and reassurance that it’s literally just the two of them.

Roman has her damn near posing like it’s a real photoshoot, and when all is said and done, she’s tugging on his arm as he puts the camera away. “Come with me.”

Solana is both surprised and thankful when he doesn’t push back on her request, doesn’t deny it. There’s an obvious level of disinterest, but it’s nothing compared to his desire to make her happy. 

And in the beautiful ocean water that brushes past in little ripples and slight waves against her shoulder, holding onto her strong, handsome husband who seems to look at her like she set all the stars in the sky, she feels just that:

Happy

________

Solana is unsure just how long they spend at the beach. Long enough that by the time they return to the house, the chef he hired for them, an older, kind woman named Maria, has dinner just about ready to serve. And it’s exactly when they finish showering and cleaning up, the plate of delicious food is laid on the table, ready to devour.

It’s a bit of a different yet pleasant experience being able to have dinner with her husband. More often than not, he has to take it in his office due to his volume of work. So having him across from her, being able to talk with him while they indulge in Pozole is a kind of happiness she could get used to. 

But, it’s later that evening when they lay in the bed, Solana’s body sprawled on top of his much bigger one, Roman’s hand under her pajama shirt rubbing her skin, that something comes over her. A desire to unload something that’s been oscillating in the back of her head, no matter how many times she tries to push it away.

“I feel bad.” 

He doesn’t look down, just asks her calmly, “about?”

Solana licks her lips. “I didn’t mean to hurt him that badly.”

Roman had a feeling that’s what she was referring to, but he didn’t want it to be true. “Solana—”

“I know. I know I defended myself, but….” She tries to word it as best she can, though she also knows there’s little to no way Roman will abandon his ardent belief that Wes got exactly what he deserved. “I keep thinking about my mom and how….she always reminded me that at the end of the day, Wes is my brother, and a lot of his behavior was because of my dad.”

Roman does his best to keep his voice leveled, to keep out the unsettled anger he holds and will always hold against her piece of shit sibling. He doesn’t want her to think any level of that anger is directed toward her. “You were kids then, Solana. Sure, Xavier probably said and influenced a lot of things, but your brother isn’t a child anymore. He’s a grown man. There’s no excuse for the things he’s said and done to you.”

None whatso–fucking—ever.

And Solana knows that, hence her expressing agreement. “I know you’re right.” Her voice drops a bit, paving way for more vulnerability. “I just….I was so angry that night, and…and I’m not an angry person. I—I don’t like that.” Before he can continue his work to take away her unrequited feelings, she asks almost over a whisper, “what does it feel like to kill someone?”

Her question takes him back a bit, but he knows why she’s asking, where it’s coming from.

“Solana—”

She sits up, looking down at him, eyes watering. “If he dies….”

He brings his hand to her cheek, comforting her, “he won’t. That bastard isn’t allowed to die. Not unless it’s by my hand.”

Roman has ensured Wes has the best medical care money can provide solely for the fact that while his beating was well-deserved, it’s paltry compared to all of the ways Roman wants to make that bastard suffer before he encounters the fiery gates of hell. 

Xavier as well.

She shakes her head, sniffling, “I don’t—I can’t live with knowing I took someone’s life. I—” Her voice cracks. “I just can’t.”

“You won’t,” he vows. Anyone who would ever need to cease to exist because they’ve wronged her in some way, he would handle. He will handle. Because he agrees. Solana is a pure soul. Despite all of the evil surrounding and done to her, she’s retained her kind heart and gentle spirit. Killing someone, taking another life, destroys that, forever pollutes the soul in a way that’s irreversible. 

Roman would die before he let that happen to her.

But the topic of this conversation, it brings something else up for Solana. Something that literally shatters her spirit to think about, let alone verbalize aloud. But, she has to tell him, can’t keep it to herself any longer. It’s not fair to him with how good he’s been to her. 

She loves him too much to continue to lie to him.

“Roman…” Her throat suddenly feels so dry, stomach weighed down by a slate of concrete. “There’s something I—”

“Shhhh.” He sits up, bringing his other hand to her cheek, fully cupping her face. “Tomorrow is your birthday, Solana. You don’t need to be this upset.” He again brushes away her tears, gently adding, “I don’t like seeing you upset.”

Her eyes shut. He has no idea the increased emotion is for an entirely different reason. “But—”

Roman seems keen on not allowing the conversation to continue, solely because he dislikes how troubled she’s getting. Sees it as unfair. “It’s gonna be fine.” He then asks, “you trust me, don’t you?” She nods softly. That’s given at this point. There’s no one she trusts more than Roman Reigns. “Then trust I’ve got this.”

Her eyes shut, as she tries to listen and marinate on his words. Her husband is adept at remaining calm and being prepared for any and everything. She…she has to trust that for right now. Trust him. 

Has to table this conversation. For now.

Roman guides her to lay back down on his chest, Solana snuggling against him. “I’ve got you, Sol.” Her heart nearly bursts at that, at the nickname she hasn’t been called in years. The name her mother often referred to her as. Her eyes shut, stomach settling, emotions subsiding in the way only Roman seems capable of orchestrating. “Always.”

________

The first thing Solana notices when she wakes up the next morning is the noticeable empty space besides her. The space where Roman should be sleeping, his muscular arm around her body, holding her against him. 

Instead, she awakes on her back, alone, with no Roman in sight.

She frowns for a few seconds, sitting up in the bed and rubbing her eyes. The sadness shifts away just as soon as it appeared. Solana knows he must either be in the gym or doing something for work. There’s very little concern that he’s ventured far.

It’s why she grabs her phone off the nightstand only to find a plethora of birthday texts and an attached photo of Dulce in the group chat with her, Naomi, Bayley, Jimmy, and Jey.

Bayley: Happy birthday, friend! Roman’s ass better be treating you like the queen you are! 💙 Love you so much and can’t wait until you get back so we can fuck up some more trucks together! 😜

Naomi: What Bayley said! Happy freaking birthday, Solana! Even if you wanted to, you ain’t getting rid of us. Sisters for life! 💚

Jey: Happy birthday, lil sis! Make sure you take lots of pics of Free Willy over there!

Jimmy: Man, you dumb asf. They supposed to look at dolphins! Not sharks! Free Willy was a shark!

Jimmy: Happy birthday, sis!

Naomi: Solana, you can feel absolutely feel free to mute this chat until you return. 😐

Bayley: Or forever.

There’s a myriad of emotions coursing through her. So much happiness. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey. A family. They’ve become her family. 

It brings tears to her eyes and keeps her in bed a couple minutes longer as she basks in the kind words and love.

It also keys her into just what Roman has planned for her big day. That brings on an additional layer of emotionality. He’s so so good to her.

Solana: Thank you, guys. You all have no idea what you mean to me. 🥺♥️

Placing her phone on the nightstand, she finally climbs out of bed and into the bathroom to pee, brush her teeth, and wash her face. She decides against placing the robe over her pajamas. An unnecessary thing considering Roman’s seen just about all of her at this point.

It'll make telling or asking him the realization she’s come to just a tad bit easier.

Out the bathroom and down the steps, sure enough, she finds him, burly body plopped down on one of the chairs in the kitchen, Maria working away to prepare what’s probably a more than necessary, grand breakfast.

Roman’s hearing and peripheral vision is expert level, because she’s barely in the kitchen when he lifts his gaze from the open laptop in front of him and sets his sights on her. One finger beckons her in his direction. An unnecessary thing considering that’s exactly where she was already headed.

Solana is easily guided onto his lap, Roman taking index finger under her chin for a kiss that’s so soft compared to his typically rough demeanor. She smiles. “Good morning….”

He chuckles. “Morning.” His hand moves to her cheek, “happy birthday.”

Heart filled, she lays her head against his shoulder, intentionally not looking at the computer in the event it’s private but still asks. “What are you doing?”

He instead motions for her to do just that. “Look.”

She does, and instantly she’s burying her face back into him. “Roman, I hate looking at pictures of myself.” Because that’s what’s on his screen, one of the photos he took of them at the beach yesterday. 

“Too bad, cause that might be one of my new favorite things.” She smiles yet again, a given whenever she’s around him. Solana also finds herself forcing her attention back to the screen, reaching to click through the photos, most of her, which is uncomfortable but still bearable. However, her attention is mostly drawn to the ones not of her, of the beach and nature and scenery that he took. 

“These are so good.” She finds herself complimenting him, because it’s true. Added to the long list of things Roman is exceptionally good at is photography. She teases him a little. “You should photograph more.”

He scoffs, an almost bitter tone to his voice. Not directed at her, of course. “When?”

She shrugs. “I—I don’t know, but we can figure it out. If…if you like to do it, then you should do it.” And just like that, she’s determined to help him figure out just that. It’s the least she can do for him.

Truly.

Noticing Maria multitasking, Solana calls out and asks, “Maria, do you need any help?”

The older woman gasps dramatically and waves away the offer as if it was an insult. “Nonsense, child. It is your birthday. You must rest and let that handsome husband of yours treat you.”

Solana laughs a bit. 

Roman asks, “what did she say?”

“I asked her if she needs any help, and she basically told me I don’t get to do any of that cause it’s my birthday.”

“Damn straight,’ Solana giggles as he moves his hand to her hip. “We’ll leave after breakfast.”

Being honest, she dances her fingers up his arm, teasing almost, “I know where we’re going….” 

Roman gives her one of those infamous smirks which quickly drops when he realizes something. “Which one was it? Dumb or Dumber?”

Giggling, she hands him her phone, opening the group chat and showing him the messages.

His eyes rake over the words, and Solana has to bite back her laugh at the absolute irritated expression painted on his handsome face when he’s done. “Even hundred fucking miles away, they ruin shit.”

She kisses his cheek, wanting to calm him down. “It’s okay.” Solana suddenly asks. “Are you gonna do it with me?”

He gives her a look. “That’s for you, Sol. Not me.”

She pouts a little, gently reminding him, “but…it can be for the both of us.”

“Swimming with Dolphins screams you. Not me.” He adds on with an almost scowl and shake of his head. “I’m too old for that shit.” Curious, he switches the topic a bit, asking, “does our age difference bother you?”

“I never really thought of it,” she answers, honestly. Roman being older than her truly has never been anything she’s considered to be an issue. At the beginning of this whole arrangement, she had a slate of other much more relevant reasons to be cautious and wary. All of those reasons almost making her laugh a bit because they’re so far away from the truth. “So, no.” She shrugs, adding. “I—I never really had good luck with guys my age anyway.” Or, at all, really. “Besides….” She chews on her bottom lip, coyly starting off a leading sentence, “there’s nothing about you that bothers me….except—”

Roman is every bit as eager as he looks for the rest. “Except?”

She bats her eyelashes, almost intentionally trying to butter him up. “If you could be a little nicer to your cousins….”

“Baby, how many times do we have to have this conversation?” He once again reiterates what, in his mind, should be painfully obvious. “I’m not a nice person.”

“But you are,” she stresses, fingers moving through his beard. “You are to me.”

“It’s different with you, Solana.” He’s not necessarily in the space to explain just how it’s different, but it is. She’s in a category all on her own. “Look….do my cousins piss me off at least 8 times a day? Yes. Do I have thoughts of homicide regarding them at least once a day? Sure. But….” He blows out a breath. “We’ve been friends since we were little kids. They’re family. I would die for them just as quickly as I know they would die for me.”

While she understands his point and is grateful for his level of openness and vulnerability, Roman and death in the same sentence brings out an almost physical reaction on her part.

That’s not even something she can tolerate thinking about.

She would lose her fucking mind if something were to ever happen to him. 

Solana is desperate to change the subject, needing something, literally anything, other than Roman dying to think about. “I….I know what I want you to give me for my birthday.”

His brow lifts as he asks with a bit of attitude. “You planning on telling me, considering it’s here?”

She smiles softly, finger trailing down his face. “Later….” Solana climbs off his lap, rubbing her stomach. “Right now, I just want to eat breakfast with my husband.”

________

It’s called Dolphin Discovery. The activity Roman has planned for the morning of her birthday, and it consists of exactly what the title implies as well as what Jimmy and Jey unintentionally spoiled for her.

Not that that’s a big deal, per se.

It doesn’t dim her excitement. The way her smile is painted on her face at the private event Roman arranged for just them, the only other people are the staff and instructors who guide the event. 

Solana is even able to convince Roman to join her for a short period of time in the water, granted he looks irritated and uninterested the entire time. Still, she knows his focus and priority is just making sure she has a nice time.

And she does. 

It’s full of smiles and laughter. 

Just as the rest of the day as Solana asks to go to the beach after, fully enamored with the crystal clear water and beauty that is the island of las mujeres. Of course, this comes with the almost stipulation from Roman that he has to photograph her again.

She’s less uncomfortable this time around, posing for his photos without as much reservation. The decreased inhibitions largely due to her overall happiness. Solana hasn’t felt so great, so in love with life for a very long time.

If ever. 

But, she’s even more touched when Roman guides them back to the beach later that evening what’s a private dinner for just the two of them.

“Roman….” She can’t help to take in the beautiful set up as he pulls out the seat for her. “This is so beautiful….”

He takes her in as he sits opposite of her, the way her dress hugs her so beautifully, the soft set of her eyes as she continues to marvel, smiling so genuinely at the setup. “Very…”

She brings her attention back onto him, reminding, “Roman, you really….you really didn’t have to do all of this. I would have been just as happy back home with you.”

“That’s too boring.” He dismisses, reaching across the table for her hand. “Too close to people. I wanted you to myself.”

She smiles, teasing him a bit. “Is that why it’s just been mostly you and me so far?”

“Damn straight.” 

She giggles, head tilted as she turns his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm. “Me haces muy feliz….”

His eyes squint with intrigue. “You’re really going to make me learn Spanish, aren’t you?”

“No,” she answers softly, focused on her gesture with his hand. “I’m…I’m not saying anything you don’t already know.”

“Which is?” 

Her eyes lift to his, locking intensely. “How much I care about you.” 

How much I love you.

That part…..that he doesn’t know. Or maybe he does. Solana knows she wears her heart on her sleeve to a certain extent. Knows how perceptive her husband is. But, if he has noticed, he hasn’t said anything. And she’s partially grateful for that, because acknowledging her love for him, internally anyway, is something that she’s okay with. Something she doesn’t really question.

She can’t say the same for him.

Love and Roman have a complicated history she can’t even begin to truly understand. It may not be something he feels capable of anymore, not after the kind of loss he experienced. And she can understand that. She’s okay with that. Because the way he treats her, the way he makes her feel, the happiness he brings her….it’s more than enough.

It’s all she needs.

The dinner itself is just as wonderful as any other meal they’ve had the past two days, but what Solana mostly enjoys is the conversation. Being able to talk to and with Roman has easily become one of her favorite things. Their conversation never goes stale, and even when she worries she’s annoying him, he keeps it going.

He truly is becoming one of her best friends. Not in the same way Naomi and Bayley have. Something different, something deeper almost. Still as appreciated. 

And it’s when the dinner comes to a close, Solana is once again taken back by Roman’s nearly limitless generosity when he gifts her a set of bracelets, Louis Vuitton, Cartier, and other luxury brands she’s certain the combination of cost equalling what some people pay for homes let alone jewelry. 

The depth of his kindness toward her will never cease to amaze her.

Back at the house, she has a bit of a hard time getting him to use the shower in the master bedroom vs using the one down the hall. She comes up with a weak excuse regarding shower design preference, and while she’s certain he doesn’t believe her one bit, he lets it go.

And Solana is utterly grateful, because she needs to be completely separated in order to prepare for the thing she’s wanted and thought about since last night, since she decided it’s truly what she wants.

Everything he’s done thus far has been more than thoughtful, but this….this is something on an entirely different level. 

She’s just stepped out the shower and wrapped the towel around her body when a random thought about what tonight could and most likely will entail flashes in her mind. 

Solana closes her eyes and tries to ignore the aching between her legs, even if she knows it’s a fruitless effort. 

Roman has been an absolute saint, patient beyond belief with her and this gradual process of working up to being intimate. Always checking in with her every step of the way.

But…..but lately, she finds herself….thinking about him in….different ways. Wondering what it would be like to finally go all the way. To be with him fully in that way.

Ways she previously couldn’t allow herself to think about. Too hindered by the memories of her trauma. 

Yet with him, it’s something unlike what she’s used to. Her chest doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode, and she doesn’t find herself panicking, needing to push him away from her, to not have any hands on her because they all feel the same, the same as her rapists.

With Roman…..that’s not her story. It’s just him she sees, feels, wants.

By the time she’s done with her shower, Solana has to reach across the bathroom counter to wipe her hand across the fogged mirror. She hits the switch for the vent and digs through her toiletries bag for the essentials and gets into her routine, focusing way too much on what she’s doing to avoid the thought sitting impatiently in the back of her head.

But, it’s when she’s reached the end of her routine and goes to grab her bra and panties she had sitting on the counter, that she pauses.

Scared.

Solana realizes that’s one of the dominant emotions she’s struggling with. She’s scared to go for what she wants. It’s a tale as old as time. Fear is always the thing that holds us back the most, that keeps us from reaching goals, attaining desires, being freed.

For so long, she believed that she was damaged. That the trauma of her past made it impossible for her to ever have a healthy sexual relationship with another person. But Roman has changed that. He’s changed her life in so many ways, and now, she is presented with the chance and opportunity to take back her power, to reclaim her sexuality.  

And now….she’s ready to do just that. 

Solana slowly retracts her hand and instead slides her pink, silk gown over her head, ignoring the almost strange feeling of having nothing underneath her dress. Solana keeps staring at her reflection, mentally going over everything: floss, mouthwash, deodorant, lotion, perfume on all of her pulse points. 

When she realizes that she’s only stalling, she forces herself to leave the bathroom. Solana makes her way down the hall and into the master. She’s relieved to see he’s still in the bathroom and decides to sit and wait on the edge of the bed. Similar to how her nerves are on edge. In the bathroom, the pep talk was more motivating and inspiring. Now, in this space, her anxiety is doing those damn flips again. 

“Solana?” Her head lifts and she stands up. Roman is standing near the bathroom door, shirtless, gray sweats hanging dangerously low, his hair down. Solana watches his gaze darken, slowly taking in her immodest state, focusing on the clear outline of her nipples pressing against the thin material. “What are you—”

She says nothing and instead grabs his hand, leading him to the bed. She switches their positions and guides him to sit on the end of the bed as she straddles him, her legs on either side of him. Solana refuses to think about the possible exposure from this position and instead focuses on him.

“I want you,” is all she says, quiet but sure. “I want you for my birthday.”

His face reads a mixture of emotions, primarily confusion. 

And lust.

“Solana….” He seems to want to move his hands to her waist but hesitates. “I didn’t….that’s not why I brought you here. I would never pressure you—”

“I know,” she interrupts, softly. “You’ve always let me set the pace, so….so let me set it now.” She brings her hands to his face, looking him dead in the eye as she repeats, “What I want for my birthday….is you.” A fleeting thought creeps across her mind when she adds, “unless….unless you don’t want me th—”

Roman switches their positions so quickly that she can barely process what’s happening until she’s flat on her back with him hovering above her. His eyes are fluttering as he works to settle himself, breathing out, “I’ve always wanted you, baby. Just needed you to tell me when.”

She licks her lips and lightly glides her fingers over his abs. He’s so firm. “And now?”

“Now?” Roman moves his hand to her knees, slowly prying them apart. She breathes in as he starts to move his fingers up the inside of her legs. “After tonight, ain’t nobody else gon’ have you like this,” his thumb brushes over her inner thigh and she grabs his bicep. “Feel you like this,” Solana’s head goes back into the bed when he glosses his fingers over her apex. “Or taste you like this but me.” Their gazes lock. “Understood? You’re mine.”

His tone is commanding and authoritative. She can mumble a quiet ‘yes’ in agreement when his head drops between the crook of her neck, his hair fanning her face, pulling his hand from between her legs. “Promise me you’ll tell me if we need to stop.” 

She gently caresses the back of his neck, reassuring him. “Roman, I’m fin—”

“Solana,” he interrupts. There’s no denying or questioning of the seriousness in his tone of voice. “Promise me.”

She nods and rakes her fingers over his scalp. “I promise.”

Roman is visibly pleased by this, eyes raking over her body. “Good.” He lowers his lips to hers, hands moving to explore her body. “So fucking pretty….”

The light kiss easily progresses into something more intense, something deeper, something that has her feeling so flustered and warm all over. His pants are quickly discarded, leaving him in boxers only. Roman continues to massage and knead her breast, along with the palming of her ass yet still makes active efforts to receive consent, always checking her comfort levels.

Initiating this is major.

Her lips are nice and swollen when he starts kissing around her face before grabbing her hand and turning it over. Two long fingers press against her wrist. 

He doesn’t say anything for a good minute, prompting her to ask, “what are you—”

“Do you trust me?” 

There’s not a second of hesitation or delay. “Of course.” 

“I need to relax you more.” With his free hand, his thumb flicks over her nipple as he explains, just as tender as every other thing he’s done to maintain her comfort. “You’re still tensing a bit under me, and the more tense you are, the more it’s going to hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you…”

Swallowing, she replies back in the same soft tone. “You could never hurt me, Roman.” His eyes flash with something almost soft. Like affection. Like something deeper. “But…I understand. What…what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t want you to do anything. Tonight is about you.” Her eyes flutter shut as he brings his mouth back to her neck, speaking against her soft skin. “Just want you to let me take care of you…” And it’s as he continues to travel down her body, tugging at her dress as much as he can to press a trail of kisses between the valley of her breast, and halting near her covered belly button that she understands what he’s asking her.

And suddenly her cheeks are on fire. Solana isn’t entirely naive. She knows that plenty of people engage in oral sex, but she’s also heard a lot of men prefer not to. Prefer to receive rather than give. “I…..you….you don’t have to—”

“Solana, I’ve wanted to taste you since the first day I met you.” His words, dark and dripping with need make her bite down on her bottom lip as his finger trails along her inner thigh. “Will you let me?”

She’s insecure and a shade of unsure for reasons entirely unrelated to her trauma. Maybe there’s some influence there, but it’s primarily the intimacy of it all. But, she then realizes he’s eventually going to be inside of her before the night ends, so his mouth being on her most intimate area….isn’t really a major difference.

Swallowing, she answers, voice catching for a second with a need she didn’t recognize until this moment. “Y–yes.”

His eyes light with desire, but he doesn’t miss a beat in reminding her yet again that she’s fully in control tonight. “Tell me to stop and we stop. I don’t care what’s happening. All I care about is you. Alright?” 

Solana nods. “O–okay.”

Roman kisses her stomach and wastes no time in helping her remove her dress, leaving her fully exposed to him, physically and emotionally. Slowly, he pries her thighs apart, seeing how she bites on her bottom lip when he teases a finger against her. 

“Still so sensitive…..” There’s a level of intrigue there, Solana watching Roman push his hair back, his tongue exiting his mouth and wetting his lips. “You’ll get used to me.”

She’s not sure she could ever get used to a man like Roman, and the minute his tongue flattens against her there, she’s almost certain she’ll never get used to that.

“Oh my god.”

He looks up at her, Solana suppressing a moan at the sight of his big body between the space of her thighs, mouth curved into a wry smile. “I barely touched you, baby….”

That doesn’t stop the fire coursing through her body.

“You want me to stop?” A frantic shaking of her head to signify a hell no is all he needs. He’ll settle for no verbal acknowledgement this time. “Good.” Salona gasps as he hooks the back of her knees over his big shoulders. “Now lay back and let me take care of you...”

It seems like all Roman has done is take care of her, but this is a new level of care, one that has her scratching and gripping helplessly at the sheets as he licks at her one, two, three times before his tongue darts around and plays with her in a way that makes her stomach tangled and twisted.

Solana whimpers when he starts sucking on her clit. “Fuck being inside you, just let me stay with this sweet pussy in my mouth.”

For a second, she considers it, because the way he laps and sucks on her has her brain practically fried trying to comprehend how just his tongue alone can have her nearly worming off the bed.

His big, strong hands grip her thighs, holding her in place as he never once lifts his head for air.

“Roman…..”

“You taste better than I imagined.” She swears she feels him kiss her slick folds. “Gonna have you sit on my face the next time….”

The terror at that thought is short lived and stomped upon by his hands traveling up her body, gripping her breast, squeezing just enough to make her moan yet again, head pressed back into the pillow. 

His name slips out her mouth for what feels like the 20th time as she moves her hands on top of his, stomach arching, pussy pressing further against his mouth. He makes a sound down there, but sound isn’t the focus when all of her most sensitive nerve endings are being so beautifully catered to.

But then it becomes too much, Roman switching to a lethal combination that includes sucking on her clit while two fingers enter inside her. It has her nearly jumping off the bed, unintentionally inching away from him.

Roman hums against her lifting up only to warn, “stop running from me, baby.” He’s playing with the mess she’s made, essence practically dripping from his beard. “This pussy is too good to not indulge myself.”

And before she can protest, can try to find some words to string together, he’s back in between her legs, and Solana finds her hands moving to the top of his hand. She can’t tell if she wants to just shove him away or shove him closer. 

A strange yet wonderful dichotomy. 

There’s no telling how long he’s down there, feasting so eagerly on her like he’s been waiting on this. Like, he’s been yearning for this. The same way Solana is starting to realize she too unintentionally wanted this. Wanted to know what it could and does feel like to be intimate, to have those normal, sexual needs met. It was just all hidden and obscured behind a dense wall of trauma the same man bringing her to heaven has helped her dismantle. 

She owes him so much.

Especially for the way he gives her an orgasm that has her wanting to scream his name loud enough for anyone within 100 miles to hear. That just might have been the case too if she didn’t press her lips together as she rode out her orgasm, Roman still remaining between her thighs as he helps her through it, letting her ride out her pleasure still against his greedy mouth.

He seems so hungry for her. 

When he finally makes his way up, presses his lips against her, Solana moans at the taste of herself on his mouth. He smirks against her lips.

“I told you I’m good at a lot of things..”

She smiles, her eyes blinking. “Roman, I—I’m ready.”

He doesn’t look surprised, but he does look hesitant. “Solana….”

“This is what I want. I—I want to be with you….fully.” Even as the words leave her mouth, the aftershock of her orgasm still trying to subside, she’s nervous. She’s nervous because there will always be that small voice in the back of her head telling her she shouldn't, that she can’t, that sex has been forever ruined for her. 

But, it’s almost as if just looking at Roman, at feeling his desire and care for her, it snuffs those voices out, locks them in a closet with a key that he’ll make sure is never found. “I—I want you inside me.”

And there’s something either about that or the way she words it that seems to trigger the okay switch for him. He gently traces the outline of her lips. “We’ll take it slow.” 

She nods as he brings his fingers to her wrist again. Her pulse. She realizes he’s checking for her pulse, trying to gauge her heart rate, assessing for any spiked anxiety. 

“You’re relaxed, but…it still might hurt at first.”

“I know,” she murmurs, heat rising to her cheeks as she explains so simply yet accurately. “It’s…it’s because you’re big.”

Roman smiles, and that alone chips away a chunk of her anxiety. His smile is so beautiful.

It’s not missed upon her, however, that he doesn’t deny it. Not that he can. She’s heard enough, felt enough, even seen enough to some extent to know that he is very much an overall big man. And yet there’s not a damn thing about him that she finds intimidating, that she’s scared of.

His strength doesn’t scare her. Not anymore.

Just makes her feel safe. 

Solana feels him shift atop her, but she doesn’t remove her gaze from the vaulted ceiling above them. He’s most likely removing his boxers, the only piece of clothing separating that part of him from that part of her. 

She tries to lower her eyes down between their heated bodies, partially wanting to see him for herself, to see what’s about to enter her when Roman brings his hand under her chin, forcing her gaze back onto him. “It’s just you and me….okay?”

Her eyes flutter closed for a second as she nods, opening and breathing back, “you and me…”

Roman lowers his mouth back onto hers, taking her for a slow sensual kiss that’s timed perfectly with the exact moment the thick tip of his dick gradually descends into her tight, wet opening. Solana gasps into his mouth, taken back by the stretch of him, a slight burning sensation that’s eased by the way he kisses her jawline, asking if she wants him to stop.

The answer is easy. 

“N–no. I’m fine.” She murmurs, grabbing him by his face and kissing him again, utilizing the talent of his mouth on hers to blur away the borderline discomfort of his initial entry. Roman is certainly well endowed and an initial level of pain is to be expected, both from his size and her experience. But, she needs his kisses to keep her from gravitating to that other painful experience, to keep her from getting triggered.

And something tells her that he knows as much without her needing to say anything. He’s consistent and dedicated in keeping his mouth on hers, his tongue raking across her bottom lip before he enters in yet another part of her. She does her best to keep up with him, to match his passion, but deep pants often break their rhythm as he continues to sink into her. He feels so deep, and he’s not even all the way in.

And when she’s moaning and groaning at the newfound stretch of him, his voice is in her ear apologizing, asking again if she wants him to stop. The answer is the same as before. Just worded differently.

“I want all of you.” 

The good. The bad. It doesn’t matter. She just wants him.

Roman is the one to groan this time, resting his forehead against hers, “fuck, you’re so tight.”

Once finally and fully seated in her, Solana is grateful that he gives her a second to breathe, to adjust to this new sensation. Still uncomfortable, the fullness in such a sensitive area, but also comforted by Roman, by his constant attempts to assess her comfort levels. It’s why after a few minutes she glides her hands up his arms and encourages him to continue. “M–move.”

He’s studying her, like he’s done at every point throughout this process. “Are you sure?”

She nods and quickly remembers his one rule. “Yes.”

Though her eyes are closed, Solana can feel Roman’s gaze burning into her as he shifts his hips, the thickness of him slowly sliding out of her, lessening that fullness only to slowly re-enter, bringing it right back. He keeps this pace, slow and gradual, working her as gently as he can, never not watching for any sign of distress. 

And it’s at some point that burning sensation washes away into something unfamiliar but desirable. It morphs into a form of pleasure that has her head slipping back against the pillow, her stomach starting to cave under his expert thrusts. His name falls out her mouth in the form of a breathy moan. “Roman….”

“Does that feel good?” She cries out as he kisses her shoulder, hand kneading her breast. “Tell me what feels good.”

The answer is easy, “everything.” And she means it, there’s not a trace of pain she can identify as she moves her hands up his muscular back as he switches up his pace, quicker but deeper thrusts that have her nails digging into his taut skin. “Oh….”

His head drops down in the crook of his neck. “God, you feel fucking amazing.” His hands drop to her hips, pulling her up to meet him thrust for thrust. “Could stay inside of you like this for hours….”

Solana chews down on her bottom lip, back arching as he adjusts his hips, reaching her even deeper, hitting another sensitive spot that has her eyes watering. “Roman.”

“That’s it. Say my name, baby.” And she does, again and again, his name a song on her lips that’s sweet music he wants to keep on repeat for the rest of his life. “You don’t know what you do to me, Solana.”

Whatever it is can’t be as good as he’s making her feel. Solana could scream from the absolute rapture he’s bringing her body, elevating her to places unseen and almost too good to be real. 

“Te quiero mucho.”

He has no idea what she just said, but he has no doubt it’s an expression of bliss, and it only encourages him to dive deeper, to rut into her a little harder. Her pleasure is the roof, but that’s a limitation. He doesn’t do limitations.

He wants to never stop hearing his name leave her mouth, breathy and wanton. She’s a mess underneath him, wet ass pussy gushy, gripping the shit out of him like he’s never experienced. It actually takes a bit of effort on his his part to not come before she does, a arduous task considering she’s never looked more fucking beautiful being underneath him like this, every little facial expression making his dick pulse inside of her.

Roman has always heard people say sex is even better when it’s someone you actually care about. He never believed that shit. He never believed that shit until now. Because he’s never felt something, never felt someone, as good as what Solana feels right now.

If not for her trauma, wouldn’t nobody be getting any sleep tonight. He’d stay in this pussy, have it in his mouth, have it in any and all ways until the wee hours of the morning. Sleep be damned.

But, this isn’t about him. It’s about her. It’s all about her, and he’ll do whatever she wants, whatever she needs. Even if selfishly, he’s working to prolong her climax just as much for his pleasure as hers.

He doesn’t ever want to pull out.

And maybe it’s also the fact that he’s never been with anyone else raw. Never had that skin to skin experience, feeling slick pussy directly against his hardened dick.

Possibly.

Regardless, after tonight, if it’s not Solana, he doesn’t want it.

Her pussy is premier and just for him.

But, it’s when he takes a brief pause, to switch their positions, situating her on top of him, he sees the nervousness wreck her beautiful face.

“Roman. I—I don’t—I don’t know how–” And it’s as she protests, as she tries to explain to him she doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to please him like that, Roman brings his hands to her hips, tugging her forward just enough for her mouth to drop open from the friction, from the way he presses into her, hitting yet another spot that has her eyes nearly watering all over again. “Oh my….”

His eyes are blazed with desire and yearning as he encourages her. “That’s it…..” Her eyes shut, the sound of him asking, “are you okay?” an almost distant thing, an almost inconceivable question. Everything about everything he’s done to and for her has felt more than okay. It’s felt heavenly. 

The same way her hands naturally plant against his chest, less of him directing her movements and more of her riding him from her own volition.

The tips given to her by Bayley and Naomi just weeks prior return to the forefront of her mind, and Solana finds herself moving her hips, grinding on top of him as if she was spelling her name. 

And almost instantly, Roman’s eyes are shutting too as he sings all of her praises, “fuck, just like that baby.”

She moves against him, riding him with a growing intensity that’s only matched by the level of desire on both of their ends. It feels fucking ethereal.

And when he can sense the pending fatigue in her body, Roman sits up, hands moving down her smooth back to her hips and guides her body against him, hitting her spot even deeper, Solana’s cries of pleasure a continuing symphony of bliss.

“You feel me, baby? Feel me in you like this?” Her head drops against his shoulder as she holds onto him, their bare, slick chests pressed against each other.

She whimpers against him, “god, yes.”

“I told you I would make you feel good, didn’t I, sweetheart?” She nods frantically only to cry out yet again when he glides his hand down and peppers his thumb over her swollen clit. “Gonna take care of you every single time. I don’t care how or where. You want it, imma give it to you.”

His voice takes on a darker tone, reminiscent of his reputation, a testament of the depth of his feelings for her. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me.” She gasps against him, yet another wave of pleasure shooting through her core. “Burn this whole fuckin’ world down….”

There’s something about his words, about his dedication to her, to keeping her safe. To keeping her with him. She lifts her head and brings her hands to his cheeks, making him lock gazes with her. “No one could ever take me from you.”

Roman just looks at her. 

Something happens. A shift. A move. A disturbance of some sort. It’s as if something snaps in half the minute his eyes lock onto hers. He doesn’t move, and neither does she. No one says anything. It almost feels like no one is breathing. Her gaze on him is just as his is on hers. Deep. There’s something happening at the soul level. A tying of some sort. A connection. 

A bond. 

Unbreakable. Unshakable.

Eternal. 

And it’s with an almost unheard non-existent level of vulnerability that Roman practically whispers against the slick skin of her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss. “I need you, Solana.” 

Her eyes water. The connection. The emotion. The love of it all. She doesn't know if he’s feeling the last one, but she certainly is, and it’s the best feeling in the world. “You’ll always have me.” She moans, whimpering as he starts moving her again, nudges that spot yet again. “Te amo con toda mi alma, Roman."

This man now has her: mind, body, and soul.

Her better half.

Her missing piece 

It aids in the build up, her fingers squeezing against his muscular shoulders. “I’m—I’m gonna—“

“I know,” his voice is strained, his body tensing up underneath her. Solana knows he’s not far behind. He quickly switches their positions, wanting her underneath him, spreading her thighs further to maximize the full pleasure of this final ride. 

Hand to his chin, she forces his gaze on her, reminding him with a hint of vulnerability. “You and me.” Her release is almost immediate, a fountain of tightness and pressure that’s both wonderful and all encompassing, forcing her to lay her head against his shoulder, holding onto him as she rides out her climax.

And it’s not even minutes later that his release finds him just as strong, just as heavy, just as fucking shattering.

Roman lets go, big body jerking above her as he releases inside of her, the mixture of their togetherness creating an absolute mess that coats almost all of their lower halves. But, she doesn’t care, just continues to hold onto him as he empties until there’s nothing left. 

Solana groans quietly as he pulls out of her, the absence of him creating a strange, unfamiliar void that’s moderately eased as he plops down on his back next to her, immediately pulling her onto his chest.

This settles her almost instantaneously. 

He kisses the top of her head, gently rubbing her back. “Did I—did I hurt you?”

She smiles against him. The answer to that question has and will always be the same. “No. Never.” Tears burning her eyes, she murmurs into his skin. “You set me free.”

Because, he did. Because after tonight, there’s no turning back. There’s no block or wall of trauma that can stop her from experiencing this. From truly being able to say that while her assault fractured her, it damn sure didn’t break her. 

Roman’s deep voice above her offers a low, gentle rebuttal. “You did that, Sol.” And as if emotions weren’t high enough as it is, he has to send her nearly overboard with his next simple but powerful statement. “you said yes.”

Eyes closing, she has to sit on it, has to rest in it, has to feel it. With all the emotion, she reaffirms it, reclaims her voice, her autonomy, yet another piece of her life. “I said yes…..”

----------

translations:

“Te quiero mucho.” = "I love you so much."

"Lo’u Au" = Someone who is your absolute favorite

"Me haces muy feliz" = "You make me very happy."

"Te amo con toda mi alma, Roman" = "I love you with all my soul, Roman."

"Yo siento muy bien contigo" = "I feel happy with you."

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 24

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, oral sex, handjob.

Part 24

Patrick has a new girlfriend. Liana doesn’t care. She’s just stating a fact. Patrick and Art competed against each other in the French Open finals. Liana sat on Art’s side next to Tashi, and on Patrick’s side, she saw his parents (a surprise in itself) and someone she didn’t recognize. And she was beautiful. So beautiful. But Liana didn’t care. All she cared about was Art. She didn’t even glance in Patrick’s direction.

Fuck tennis. Only Art mattered in this scenario. She’s blonde. His girlfriend is blonde and looks younger than them, which is a bit embarrassing for him, right? Couldn’t he find someone his own age? Someone who knows who the President of the United States is and maybe even all the continents and the multiplication table. Someone who has seen a thing or two in life. Someone who can respond to him and match him. Art lost the fucking set. His body language was off. Everything was messed up. Liana had seen Art lose before; she hadn’t yet seen him lose to Patrick. She hoped today wouldn’t be the first time.

“Shout that you love him,” Tashi told her, and Liana made a face in response. “I’m not joking with you. Tell him you love him. Now.” Tashi and Liana barely spoke; they tried to keep their distance from each other but were polite when necessary for Art. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Liana rolled her eyes. “Do you want him to lose because of you?” she asked in response, and Liana chuckled. “What do I have to do with it exactly?” “You can’t stop staring at your ex’s new girlfriend who is currently beating Art. So tell him you love him or get out of here because you’re disturbing.” It felt like if Tashi could, she would burn Liana alive. “You got this, baby, I believe in you,” she said loudly enough for Art to hear, making him nod and smile a little. Patrick heard too. He was less thrilled by Liana’s gesture.

When Patrick won, his familiar smirk spread across his face, and he looked directly at Liana for a second. Right after that, he bowed towards his girlfriend, and Liana found herself rolling her eyes. Art was interviewed first and had to compliment Patrick, giving a backhanded compliment that only those who knew them understood, praising him for his "long journey" and saying things like "it's not taken for granted that Patrick reached this stage and won," and in the end, that he was "happy for him." Patrick said in his interview that he was happy to be here and hoped that everyone who didn’t believe in him now knew that when he wanted, he could win. He thanked his family "and the love of his life," which was a bit over the top if you asked Liana, because she had no idea what the girl who looked at him with hearts in her eyes was even called, but whatever. Both were asked if they were still friends since they competed together as kids, everything was awful, and Liana felt like she was going to vomit.

When the interviews finally ended, Liana could go to the locker room and look for Art. Wondering what state she would find him in. He was dressed after a shower and looked at her with a frozen expression. As if the world had collapsed on him. “Let’s go,” he mumbled, and she nodded, glad to get out of there. Hating to see him so broken. On the way out of the locker room, Patrick and his family stopped in front of them. Liana wondered if God hated her. What did she do, and who did she hurt so much for this interaction. “Liana, honey, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you. How are you?” His mother was polite. “Art, I won’t even talk about you.” She added with humor that none of them knew she had. They were in a good mood because their son finally proved he was a winner. That the investment in him was worthwhile. Finally earned a significant amount of money. Finally worthy of his family name.

"I’m Casey," the girl with the gum and blonde hair suddenly said. How old is she anyway? "Art," he introduced himself because Liana was in shock. Both boys looked at her, almost waiting for her reaction. "We were on our way out," she muttered, trying to keep a smile. None of them knew this impolite side of Liana. She looked at the girl in front of her as if she were dirt that needed cleaning. "Can I steal her?" Patrick addressed Art, and everyone looked at him, unable to ignore his choice of words, "for a moment. Just a few words." He added, not removing the smile as he saw the color leave Art’s face. "I’m not her owner, Patrick. I’ll wait for you in the car." He nodded towards Liana and said a quick "bye" to Patrick’s parents. "I’ll be right there, love. You guys can wait for me at the exit." Patrick turned to the blonde next to him. What did she say her name was?

Liana stood facing him in the locker room he closed, and Patrick felt on top of the world. "Hey," he said. "What do you think you’re doing?" she asked as he sat on the bench in front of her. "Winning, obviously," he answered. "Well done, Patrick. You remembered you’re capable of not being the loser you were for four years? I’m happy for you. What do you want?" she asked, venom dripping from her. "Why are you so angry, Lilo? What did I do this time? You haven’t seen me in a year. The ring on your finger is impressive. Everything’s good. Just tell me you’re proud of me, and we can each go to our homes and our beds where I’ll have amazing sex, and you’ll have whatever it is you're having with him." She looked at him in disgust. "Do you ever control what comes out of your mouth? People your age are supposed to develop a filter. How old is Barbie outside?" She couldn’t help herself and saw his smile widen. "Is she legal?" she added, ignoring his smugness. "She’s a year younger than you; she just looks a lot younger." He said, trying to hurt her a little. "Wow, Patrick. You’ll never change, huh?" she chuckled in despair.

"When did you get engaged?" he suddenly asked, glancing again at the giant diamond on her finger. He always thought Liana would want something more modest. He thought he knew her that well. "Two months ago." She didn’t know why she answered him. "Congratulations," he said. There was nothing sincere about it. "You see, that’s what you say when someone wins or shares good news. You say congratulations. I won today. Can you be the polite girl you know how to be and say congratulations?" She didn’t know how it happened, but he was in front of her. In her personal space. Almost demanding her attention. Almost demanding the attention she had denied him for a year and a half. "Do you think winning in tennis makes you the person I hoped you would be?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. The disgusted look didn’t leave her. From the distance between them, she could smell his breath, a mix of mint and banana. He nodded in response to her question.

"Patrick, do you even know me? Like…at all?" She said. And Patrick knows her. He knows her so well. Maybe only he knows how well he knows her. He knows her favorite song. What subject was hardest for her in her degree. Who her best friends are. What part of her body she hates the most. How many freckles she has. Which side of the bed she likes to sleep on. Who her role model is. What her favorite position is. What her favorite shampoo is. What perfume she uses. He knows her biggest fear and what makes her angry. He knows how jealous she is, and he knows she’ll compare herself to Casey (the bland girl he found on an app and will probably break up with in a week) for months to come. And he knows she still thinks about him. He sees it in her.

"Don’t you think you deserve more?" he suddenly asked, his hand brushing her cheek. "Don’t do that," she muttered, unable to stay focused. "Don’t do what? Remind you that you love me?" he asked, seeing her take a deep breath. Seeing all the emotions she tried to hide. "I love Art. Don’t ruin it." She said, and he nodded. "Okay." He chuckled, half at her, half at himself. He took a few steps back. "You look really good, Lilo. I hope he tells you that a lot," he said, bringing back the smirk to his face and making her roll her eyes. "He tells me that a lot, Patrick." "Good," he replied. "Good." And with that, she left the room, leaving him alone with his emptiness. She didn’t say she was proud of him for winning. So maybe, after all, he didn’t win.

Art gripped the steering wheel as if it were his lifeline. “You’re back,” he said as she sat next to him. “You sound surprised,” she muttered, examining him. He didn’t look at her. He hated how she made him feel right now. Almost half an hour he waited for her in the car while she and Patrick did who knows what. He started driving, seeing out of the corner of his eye that she was playing with the ring he gave her. He felt like he had lost her. Like Patrick beat him in tennis and the ultimate prize was Liana. As if the past year and a half hadn’t happened. “I’m going to Tashi’s room to review the video,” he said, refusing to look at her and leaving the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

“I don’t want any more competitions against him,” he told Tashi the second he entered her room. The video didn’t interest him at all. He didn’t want to lose to Patrick Zweig again, and he knew that no matter how many times he played against him, he would lose. “I don’t control who you face in the finals, Art. Patrick is a good player. You need to be better. That’s all,” she answered him with half indifference, trying to understand what he was doing in her room instead of spending the rest of the day with Liana. “He’s got nerve. dickhead,” Art muttered, completely frustrated by the day. “It was humiliating, Tashi. I’m not willing to be humiliated again by Patrick Zweig.” He looked at her, playing with his fingers. “Why are you here, Art?” she asked. “I can’t look at her,” he admitted, causing Tashi to raise an eyebrow. “I can’t look at her, so I need to calm down before I go back to the room,” he explained. “Why are you angry with her?” she asked, not understanding how this day went so sideways from their routine. “She’s going to leave me,” he said quietly, afraid to admit it out loud. “Art, give Liana some credit. Don’t waste your time here. Go fix it.” She opened the door for him, no longer accepting his presence there.

Liana was fiddling with her laptop after a shower when he returned. In an instant, she looked up at him, removed her glasses, and closed the computer. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I love you,” she said in the most steady voice she could muster. “You went with him today. You were eaten up with jealousy and went with him. You just let me go to the car.” He tried to temper his anger, speaking in a calm voice despite his body burning inside. “I wasn’t eaten up with jealousy,” she rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Look at me and tell me you don’t care about his dumb girlfriend. Look at me and tell me you didn’t feel relieved when he asked to ‘steal you.’ Who even talks like that except that idiot?!” His anger was much more evident now, unable to control himself.

“I was with Patrick for four years of my life,” she said, swallowing hard. “And when does that stop being an excuse?” he retorted, ready to fight a battle he didn’t know he needed to wage. “It’s not an excuse, Art. He was a part of my life, and you’re supposed to know that. I thought you understood that,” she sighed. “What did he want?” he asked. “Sorry?” “After the game, what did he want? He held you for half an hour. What did he have to say?” His gaze was murderous, if not directed at her. “Why are you fighting with me now?” she asked, exasperated. “It’s not my fault you lost. That’s not on me,” she said, and he raised an eyebrow and scoffed in defeat.

“I’m going to sleep, Liana. I can’t do this right now,” he said. “Do what, Art?! What do you want? Why are you so angry?!” she raised her voice. She felt Art withdrawing into himself, consumed by his anxieties and scenarios he created without reason. He was silent, moving to his side of the bed, stripping off his pants and shirt, ignoring her question entirely. “We’re getting married in three months, Arthur. I’m not going to let this slide and let you punish me for something you made up,” she said, and he looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her leg was twitching. He’s marrying her in three months. She said they’re getting married. She’s not calling off the wedding. She’s not going back to Patrick. She’s still with him.

“Do you love him?” he asked, his voice weak and almost broken. He felt his eyes welling up with tears, not understanding why he was reacting this way. He felt stupid and pathetic as Liana knelt in front of him, trying to catch his gaze. He refused to look at her. “I love you,” she said confidently. “You don’t want to be with him? I won’t hate you for it. I just need to know before the wedding. I need to know you won’t leave me on our wedding day. That you won’t go to him the second he asks.” He admitted all the feelings weighing on him. “Art, look at me,” she demanded, gently brushing her hand against his cheek, making him lean into her touch and automatically place his hand over hers. “I want to be with him as much as I want to have a heart attack,” she said, making him chuckle.

"Okay," he said. "He just likes to mess with our heads. We're better than that, baby. You're better than that. You're stronger than that." She stood up and sat on his lap, stroking his face with one hand and his short hair with the other. "It's you and me against the world," she added, and he nodded. "I lost to Patrick." He looked so miserable as he gazed at her with red eyes.

"Yeah? Can Patrick do this?" She placed Art's hand on her left breast, letting him play with it through her shirt. She felt his fingers gently pinching her nipple. "Can Patrick hold me while I do this?" She started moving back and forth on his lap, feeling him harden beneath her and close his eyes. She began kissing his face, his cheek, and then the other. She kept moving, hearing his little moans underneath her. "I'm yours, Art. I'm yours forever." His moan was the loudest yet, and he pulled her into a hungry kiss. "And after we get married," her hand was on his cock, feeling the pre-cum as she moved it the way he liked, "I'll give you as many kids as you want. I'll make you a daddy," she smiled, feeling him respond to her words, almost thrusting into her hand. "Is that what you want? To be a daddy?" she asked, and he nodded. "I'll make it happen, daddy. You and me. Fuck, Art," she said as she felt his warmth on her hand as he came. "Take it. Be a good girl and take it all," he said, and she got down on all fours, starting to clean him with her tongue, taking her fingers that had been on him as he came into her mouth as well.

"Will you really make me a dad?" he asked after they had cleaned up and she was lying on his chest in bed. "Do you want that? Kids, I mean..." she lifted her head to him, and he nodded. "Yeah, it could be nice. A mini-you running around our house making a mess." He smiled at the thought of it. "Or a mini-Art, running around with a racket and stealing other people’s gifts," she retorted sarcastically. "I want everything you're willing to give me, Lia." He looked at her with the utmost seriousness after a day that had beaten him and battered him from all sides. "I love you, Art Donaldson. Please don't doubt that again. Not like that, okay?" she said, and he nodded, feeling he was about to fall asleep.

Liana couldn’t fall asleep, and if she thought about it deeply (which she tried not to and failed), she also hadn't answered Art when he asked if she loved Patrick.

Hey :) How are we feeling? Do we love it? Do we hate it? What the actual fuck is Patrick doing?!?!?! Talk to me, let me know what you're thinking.  BTW- I love writing the blurbs, so if there's anything you want to know about our fav trio, just ask for it and I'll write it from time to time. 

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[one-idea]

Let’s keep going with Wado Ichimonji’s point of view.

When they arrive at Lodgetown the whole place is weird. Wado was already annoyed because Zoro insisted on getting two new swords. She can already tell that this is NOT the place to get quality swords. She going to get stuck once again with two blades not worthy of Zoro’s skill and it will just be a matter of time until they can’t take his strength anymore and break. (If he has to use other blades can he at least wait until they find high quality blades like her)

Then on top of it they run into Tashigi. The kiuna look a like makes Wado physically rattle in her scabbard. How dare this look a like come here and mock her old masters memory! How dare she mess with her boys head!

Eventually they get away from her and Zoro finds his way to the swords shop. And Wado hears it. This incessant whining. And she realizes two things. There is at least ONE grade blade in this store. This normally would fill her with hope. Finally a companion she could talk to. Obviously they aren’t one of the 21 great blades like she is, but it’s a definite improvement. Except for the second thing she realizes. This blade is cursed. And she won’t shut up! Whining for a new master so that she can kill again (until she kills her master again)

She’s just so annoying.

And she’s currently in a barrel of regular swords. This sales man is an idiot. All she can hope is that Zoro doesn’t hear her calls.

The shop owner then tries to BUY her from Zoro. He’s not just an idiot he’s a greedy imbecilic. Luckily that annoying look alike arrived and recognized her. And off course the Kuina look alike would know her name (sigh) but at least Zoro know it now! Her boy is calling her by name! He knows just how incredible she is now, one of the 21 great grade blades! Maybe she can forgive this look alike.

Except she leads Zoro right to that cursed blade.

No! Death for look a like! Wado will never forgive her for this.

Except Zoro already knows this blade was cursed. He had heard her calls the moment he walked into the store. Because of course he did. Her boy is the best. He can hear their (the swords) voices so well. But why Her.

Sandai Kitetsu is this new blades name.

As soon as Zoro touches her she starts begging. Begging for blood. Begging for battle. And Wado knows Zoro’s heart. Knows him to be a loyal and honorable man.

She also knows he’s feral and bloodthirsty in his own way. Has been since he was a child.

Sandai Kitetsu is calling for the right person. And of course her idiot son hears this curse blade voice, and is warned by two people not to use her. And what does he decide? To test his luck against the swords curse by throwing it in the air and seeing if it will chop of his arm. Wado is furious.

Wado already knows the end result.

Sandai Kitetsu spins right past his arm. Not just past it but the back of her blade faced Zoro’s arm the whole time. She never would have cut him.

Wado can hear her clearly now when Zoro picks her up again.

“New master! Strong master! Won’t hurt master! You’re like me, you’re hungry to fight like me. Please let me fight!”

Her whining is incessant. It won’t stop! Wado already hates her. She not worried about Zoro falling to the curse, he’s to strong and two stubborn for that. And she can tell Sandai Kitetsu won’t hurt him as long as he brings her to battle. But does she have to be so annoying!

The swords sales man has been talking this whole time but Wado hadn’t been paying attention. To focused on her future roommate and annoyance to care for this human. Until she hears another voice

Yubashiri, a skillful grade blade. Far superior to this whining grade blade but not as great as she. It will do for a companion.

Yubashiri is quieter than Sandai Kitetsu, but that’s not hard. A hurricane is quieter than Sandai Kitetsu. But Yubashiri only talks when necessary. Wado is grateful for that.

Now Zoro has two high level blade plus her one of the 21 great blades. They will take Zoro farther in his journey. All the way to the top.

(Is it wrong of her to hope that he breaks Sandai Kitetsu?)

Regardless they leave the shop. And find their way back to their King. Only that stupid clown is back. And he’s trying to kill their King! How dare he!

So much happens. They almost lose their king, something Wado will not except, for Zoro won’t except it. Zoro needs his captain, they need their king. But he is saved by what the cook calls a miracle. Wado calls it to close and will never let it get that close again. Then they have to fight look a like. And Wado was right. The girl may look like Kuina, but she doesn’t fight like her. Zoro wins quickly and without any true struggle. THAT’S HER BOY!

Now they are on their way to the grand line.

The swords take the time to get accustomed to each other. Yubashiri is quick to accept their role in the ship, Luffy is captain and king, the rest of the crew is namaka. They protect the crew.

Sandai Kitsune is not as impressed. Why are they following the rubber boy? I mean as long as he brings her to a good fight then he’s alright in her book, but why protect him? Or the others? Swords are made to fight. If they attack we fight them.

Wado gets tried of trying to explain to a curse blade why she needs to care. It’s because Zoro cares! But it’s fine. She didn’t like their King at first either. Sandai Kitsune will understand soon.

Or Zoro won’t keep her around.

Maybe it’s best if Sandai Kitsune never understand why Luffy is King!

(She will. Once they get to the grandline. Once she sees Luffy and Zoro in action together. Once she see what it means to fight Luffy in Wiskey peaks)

[ladyodium]

House of the Dragon

Driftmark 1x07

(Credit for gif @sansaery-theonsa )

(Before I start this, I wanna say that I am not speaking about the books, I know what happens in the books. I want to focus on the SHOW in specific. I also ask that we respect each others opinions.) 

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!” -Alicent Hightower 

This line that Alicent says to Rhaenyra as they struggle against each other makes me really sad for everyone in this scene.

I feel sad for Alicent, who had to sacrifice everything for the sake of duty and her house. She sacrifices her friendship with Rhaenyra, she becomes a child bride for a grieving King who killed his Queen, she’s a child who gave birth to another child, her Father continues to push the idea that Rhaenyra will kill her children and she should raise Aegon to be King. She sacrifices and sacrifices and sacrifices and sacrifices, all in the name of duty and instead of getting a rewards for her sacrifice, she gets punishments. Alicent will forever live in Queen Aemma’s shadows, and her children will live the Bealon’s shadow. She’s so bitter and angry about her fate that she can’t help but start to resent Rhaenyra for her freedom. She hates that Rhaenyra is free to ignore her duty and continue to do what she likes. Alicent can’t do that, why does Rhaenyra get to? Rhaenyra gets to once again get away with a no punishment and I think that really broke something in Alicent. Viserys won’t even defend their child, her child! Her Aemond! But instead of it happening in just the Red Keep, now it’s in front of everyone. It makes me feel for Alicent because everyone is gaslighting her in this scene. They keep downplaying the seriousness of her son’s injury. She’s being told to just let it go and Aemond will be fine. Her son’s eye is lost and no one is defending him. Let’s not forget that Rhaenyra asked for Aemind to be “sharply questioned” which can allude to torture. Viserys can’t even be bothered to come up with a solution (he’s so pathetic) instead he basically tells Alicent she’s being hysterical, and that breaks my heart for her. She’s not even allowed to be angry about her son’s eye, she isn’t given that right, but Rhaenyra is?

“ Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are.” -Rhaenyra Targaryen

(Credit for gif @alicenthightcwer)

I feel sad for Rhaenyra who is now face to face with someone she doesn��t even recognize. Honestly, I don’t think anything bad happened to Rhaenyra other than this scene. Rhaenyra was at the funeral chatting (sleeping) it up with Daemon. But I feel sad in this scene because once again, she must face the “rumors” of her sons being bastards. She’s now face to face with everyone in the room looking at her and her sons with judgement. It’s never been said in open air, but now it is. Now, she has to fight back but it’s just her word. No Laenor, Daemon is leaning in the back watching the drama he doesn’t even bother to check on his OWN children. She has no one. She’s once again alone against the Greens words. She’s angry that her sons are hurt and in that angry she asks for her own half-brother to be “sharply questioned”, I don’t think she wanted that to happen but she wanted Aemond to say that it was Alicent who was teaching him these things. She wants to expose Alicent for who she is, a bitter, resentful woman who would do anything to shake her claim. To get HER son on the Iron Throne and throw Rhaenyra and her sons to the wolves. Not only is Rhaenyra fighting for her claim but now she’s fighting to protect her children from these vile “rumors”. “But now they see you as you are.” Now they see Alicent as she truly is, not the pious Queen she portrays herself as, but as the bitter, resentful woman she has become. The vile serpent hiding behind this innocent façade, she hides behind. The last look Rhaenyra gives Alicent before looking down at her sliced her arm speak volumes. Now, they have truly severed their bond. Rhaenyra doesn’t see Alicent, her friend, HER Alicent, now shes looking at someone who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her and her children.

“Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a Dragon” -Aemond Targaryen

(Credit for gif @fkevin073 )

What is a Targaryen without a dragon? Are they even a Targaryen? Are they a disappointment? Less than? Who is Aemond Targaryen? A dutiful son? A spare? A dragonless, fatherless, and bullied boy? Who is he? Aemond didn’t deserve to have his eye taken from him, he didn’t deserve to have irreversible damage done to him for claiming a dragon. A dragon isn’t an heirloom to pass down nor is it something anyone can claim. “A dragon isn’t a slave. They chose their riders.” , could Aemond have waited until after Laena’s funeral? Yes, 100 percent, YES. That was disrespectful not only to Rheana but to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys who were mourning the death of their child. He should have asked or waited but he saw a chance to become something worthy, and he was willing to die for it. A ten year old child was willing to die for a chance to prove himself. That’s insane. He didn’t deserve that, what had Aemond done to deserve thinking he needed to die to prove himself? Every adult in his life has failed him, they’ve built a solider instead of a child. A spare king, instead of a little boy. He didn’t have the confidence to fight the bullying his brother and his nephews put him through, now he rides the largest dragon in the world? Yeah, he had an ego boost. My heart breaks because he was ready to die for this, a ten year old child. Then he was targeted and fought back against them. I don’t know if he would have struck Jace in the head with that rock, but he did get them to back off before Luke sliced him. Jace pulling a knife on someone because they called him a bastard is dumb. I’m sorry, you can’t just pull a knife on someone and try to harm them for a word. Aemond was Injured and now he’s being put on trial by his own father for being a criminal. The absolute look of hatred when he looked at Viserys was beautiful. How dare you question me when I’m the one who’s hurt. Who’s bleeding out, who could have died. I don’t blame Aemond, Aegon, or Helaena for not mourning his death. Aemond was a bullied boy who felt useless without a dragon, but he grew into a bitter, resentful man because of his eye. Aemond and Luke to me parallel Alicent and Rhaenyra. Aemond who like Alicent, has everyone tell them to suck it up and deal with it compared to Luke, who like Rhaenyra is allowed to get off freely with zero punishment. Not even a single sorry. I feel sad for the little boy he could have been, the little boy who needed a loving and kind mother but was instead raised by a mother who was consumed with fear.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon….She was mine to claim!”- Rhaena Velaryon-Targaryen

( credit for gif @targs-on-zorses )

I think Rhaena was done such a bad injustice. She lost her mother, her father wasn’t even talking to her or her sister, and now her mother’s dragon was claimed before she could even try. Rhaena is the definition of a lady. She’s kind, gentle, and has a calming aura. She’s the calm to Beala’s Strom. She’s her mother’s daughter but she’s still has a dragon temperament. I think her and Aemond reflect of each other so much. Both felt worthless because their dragon eggs didn’t hatch in the cradle and are both ignored by their fathers( for different reasons) and that makes me sad because I think they would have made great friends with each other. Rhaena always had her mother to make her feel better, but now she’s gone and the only thing she has now is Vhagar. Except, now Vhagar is gone and her Father is marrying Rhaenyra. Baela is on Driftmark with their Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys and Rhaena is all alone again. I feel sad for Rhaena because she’s always alone, she’s just left by herself and she really mirrors Alicent’s demure lady mask very well.

(Thank you to the people who made the gifs! I credited them underneath each gif!)

The Driftmark episode to me was a prelude to the war that was about to break out. It was a battle between friends who have turned bitter enemies, children who have turned against each other. It was family torn apart and sides were clearly drawn out. It was ugly and showed everyone the divide within the Targaryen Family. But it was such an emotional episode for me because everyone was faced with the ugly truth.

They were divided and nothing could bring them together again.

(Please be respectful to each other about comments you have. I love the discussing about HOTD, but let’s not get ugly😭 )

[roses-r-rosie3]

Crazy Over You

Ethan Landry x M!Reader

Spoilers for scream 6!!!

Warnings: Angst and swearing

Summary: Y/n is the son of Stu Macher’s sister and is seeing visions of his dead uncle

Y/n along with his mother were devastated about Vince’s death. Although Vince came home drunk from a bar every night y/n still loved his brother. Y/n’s mother couldn’t handle finding out her brother was a psychopath and killed people in their own childhood house and later died in that same house by itself, but now finding out that her one of her son’s died because of what her brother started she couldn’t handle it anymore.

She told y/n to pack his bags and they were moving to New York because she couldn’t handle living In woodsboro any longer. After y/n and his mother moved to New York, he went to study for college at Blackmore university.

There he met Ethan. Ethan was there for him 24/7, he comforted y/n when y/n needed him most. Ethan was a breath of relief for y/n. Y/n’s mother was not very fond of Ethan though, she thought he was ‘too good to be true’ and not in the nice way.

Ethan tried his best to get along with y/n’s mother but she refused. She warned y/n to be careful of Ethan before y/n moved to share a college dorm with Ethan and Chad.

“Why doesn’t your mom like me?” Said Ethan as he helped y/n pack his stuff into the dorm room.

By that time y/n still hadn’t told Ethan about his uncle being one of the original woodsboro killers.

“If I tell you, you promise not to tell anyone?” Said y/n.

“Yes y/n I won’t tell anyone you know me” said Ethan.

“Well, my uncle, he was a killer, he was apart of the original woodsboro massacre, he was Stu Macher” said y/n hoping Ethan wouldn’t freak out and break up with him.

Ethan just looked shocked, he didn’t know what to say.

“That is definitely not what I was expecting, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you” said Ethan.

“Hey how about I introduce you to my friends so that you can get your mind out of that” said Ethan with a bright smile.

“Sure” said y/n happy that his boyfriend didn’t see him as a ‘monster’ or a ‘psycho’.

After y/n met all of the friend group. And he particularly became good friends with Sam and Quinn. Y/n recognized Sam from the rumors of her being the actual killer of the woodsboro massacre of 2021.

Sam later found out that y/n was the brother of Vince which also meant that he was Stu’s nephew. She and y/n shared the trauma of being related to one of the killers of the original woodsboro massacre. Y/n didn’t know why but he felt a special bond between him and Quinn.

Time skip to when they find the Shrine room

Y/n was devastated when he found out that his best friend Quinn died. That only left Sam and Ethan to be the only one that y/n was really close with. Y/n walked through the theater and looked around. He looked around and saw the Tv that killed his uncle. He sat on the steps as he saw a vision of his uncle.

“It’s nice to finally meet one of my nephew” said the illusion of Stu.

“I-I though you died” said y/n.

“I am dead, you’re just going crazy” said Stu.

“Why are you even in my head” said y/n.

“You know why I’m here y/n, you know you wanted to be the one to kill Amber and Richie for killing Vince, you know you crave the taste of blood” said Stu.

“Shut the fuck up!” Yelled y/n. All of a sudden y/n felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Babe who are you talking to” said Ethan. “Oh- Uh- no one, I’m fine” said y/n.

“Are you sure y/n?” Said Ethan.

“Yes Ethan just leave me alone” said y/n.

It hurt him to lie to his boyfriend but he didn’t know who to trust.

Time skip to killer reveals

“Surprise y/n” said Ethan as he unmasked himself as ghostface.

“Ethan..” said y/n hurt from his boyfriends betrayal.

“Mindy was right, it was easy to juke the roommate lottery, I mean all I had to do to meet you was to room with a conceded condescending alpha, literally named Chad, fuck it felt good to kill him!” Said Ethan.

“This was your grandmother’s Sam, Nancy Loomis, really runs I the fucking family doesn’t it?” Said Ethan pointing to the mask he wore.

“Speaking of family, my names not Ethan Landry! Is it dad?” Said Ethan.

“Dad?” Said y/n.

“If it’s you two that just leaves, Mindy?” Said Sam.

The third ghostface revealed themselves as Quinn. Y/n felt his heart drop, it was already heart shattering that his own boyfriend was the killer, and now his best friend too?

“Hey roomies, you didn’t see that one coming did you?” Said Quinn.

“Yeah because you died��� said Tara.

“Kinda didn’t, though it was a good way to get off the suspect list, stab Gale weathers, stab Mindy on the train” said Quinn.

“Yep and I was first on the scene to make sure I could replace her body out with a fresh one, fake blood, a prosthetic, you’d be amazed at what a grieving father could get away with” said Bailey.

“I got Stu mask, your uncles mask y/n, he was my favorite” said Quinn.

“Wait a minute I never told you that I was related to Stu! Ethan? Did you tell her?” said y/n.

“Oh no you sweet dumb thing” said Ethan.

“Did you really think I didn’t know about you being Stu Macher’s nephew? Why did you think I even dated you to begin with!” Said Ethan.

That sentence broke y/n’s heart, Ethan only dated him because he was Stu’s nephew.

They start explaining they are Richie’s family

Y/n saw Tara hit Quinn with the brick as Kirby shot at Bailey. It was a blur, y/n still couldn’t move.

“Y/n…. Y/n!” Said the illusion of stu.

“Are you really going to let them betray you, and kill you! Fight back! Do you not get it! They are the family of the killer who killed your brother!” Said Stu.

Y/n had this sudden burst of energy. He saw Sam hit Ethan with the brick and take the knife out of Kirby’s stomach.

“Sam.. pick up the gun and go up there with Tara, and give me the knife” said y/n.

Sam gave y/n the knife as she went onto the balcony.

“What are you gonna do about it bitch?” Said Ethan.

Y/n started to stab Ethan repeatedly before Quinn pulled him off and held a knife to his throat.

“Y/n!” Said Tara.

Sam noticed and aimed the gun at Quinn but it went through both y/n and Quinn’s shoulder. Y/n tried to run away but Ethan cornered him.

“You wanna say hi to your uncle for me?” Said Ethan he stabbed y/n in the stomach and threw him on the ground.

Ethan was about to throw the tv on top of y/n’s head when Sam tried to shoot at Ethan. Y/n saw Ethan run as he started to pass out.

All of a sudden y/n heard a crash. He saw Sam and Bailey on the ground. Y/n shook Sam awake as she told y/n and Tara to hide in the bar area. As y/n was walking he saw Ethan’s ‘dead’ body.

“Did you do that?” Said y/n as they were walking up into the room.

“Yeah.. sorry about that” said Tara.

“No, it’s fine, kinda wish I was the one who got to kill him though”

Time skip to the final scare

Y/n saw Tara and Sam sitting on the steps while he thought about what just happened on the other side of the room. Y/n saw Ethan slowly get up to try and kill Sam and Tara. This gave y/n an idea. As Ethan went to go kill Sam and Tara y/n pushed the TV on top of his head.

“You can say hi to him yourself” said y/n smiling that he got the last laugh

A/n: ok so I have one last Ethan Landry idea and then I will get started on the Harlan Briggs fanfic :)

[giorno-plays-piano]

House of Chains

Part V

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x mage!reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, obsession, threats, canon-typical violence, chase scenes, death of minor characters.

Words: 1.5k

Summary: In return for help to come back to your home world, you have been faithfully supporting the Greens to put Aegon on the throne. But when your promise is fulfilled, neither Otto nor Aemond are keen on letting you go.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

_________

The end of your dagger touches the boy’s throat before he takes a breath.

“Don’t move, and I won’t kill you.”

He nearly jumps, and you have to restrain him further, making Lucerys put his head up to glance at you, the dagger so close he can feel the sharp cold steel on his skin. You don’t want to hurt him, but you are not playing games.

“You!” He gasps, blinking rapidly when he recognizes your face, having to say nothing but, “you are the Queen’s niece!”

You huff out a little laugh at the statement, but don’t correct him. It doesn’t matter. The only thing he needs to know is that you will kill him if he doesn’t do what you say. Although, considering you had just appeared out of thin air for all he knows, you have already attained your goal as Luce just stares at you dumbly, open-mouthed.

“Where did you- The room was empty!” He squeaks, frozen in place, and you do your best not to roll your eyes at his reaction. Everything points out to the boy being extremely unprepared for the war that is to come. The fact that Rhaenyra leaves her son unguarded in these volatile times is unbelievable to you, but it’s only to your advantage.

“It was,” you agree, snorting. “Take a note, Luce. Now stop asking me stupid questions and take me to Daemon.”

The boy starts to visibly tremble, finally recognizing how deep in shit he is with you ready to cut his head off, “Wha- what? Why?”

Your grip on him is firm, but it seems you don’t need to resort to violence: Lucerys already got scared out of his wits, his breathing growing elaborate, heart pounding violently against your arm as you hold him close. It seems he is the best target you could have chosen. Hopefully, everything goes as planned. You can’t have any intervention - it’ll result in your death, no doubt. But it’s easier like this, with plain violence and threats than going the long way and hoping for Rhaenyra’s understanding. You are more than convinced she will treat you similarly as Otto has done. Despite her image in Viserys’ eyes, she isn’t much different from the Greens, and with war arriving swiftly, she won’t let you go.

Dealing with monsters is easier. Hence, you go to Daemon the Rouge Prince who hates the threats with all his being, retorting to violence for even smaller offenses. You can predict what he’ll say when he sees you and Luce.

“The guards will catch you!” The boy cries in hysterics as you move to the door along with him, your sharp dagger gleaming dangerously in the daylight.

“They won’t,” you murmur against his ear before you chant an invisibility spell again, and Luce stills against you, listening to the strange words of a language he has never heard before. Thankfully, he stops resisting, and you feel the need to calm him down. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just be a good boy and take me to Daemon.”

Luce hiccups, “So you could kill him?”

“I would have if I wanted to. Don’t be silly, I just need a favor from him.”

“What sort of favor?”

You grow tired of the rows of questions he keeps shooting at you, so you growl, pressing the blade until the boy whimpers against you. “Bring me to your stepfather, Lucerys Velarion, before you force my hand.”

He mumbles something incomprehensible but then shows you the right corridor with a trembling hand, seeing the guards looking right through the both of you as if you simply don’t exist. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but you have no time to explain when Luce tells you Daemon is in the catacombs below the Dragonstone’s castle.

Funny, it seems you will have to examine all of Westeros’ dungeons before you get a chance to leave.

You feel your blood pressure rising with each step you take closer to the catacombs despite the inconvenience of dragging the boy with you, your heartbeat growing irratic. You can’t fuck this up. If there’s not enough dragon breath, you’re as good as dead: either Daemon makes Caraxes eat your alive for your offense or keeps you hostage for your magic. You don’t even know which is worse.

Lucerys shakes even harder once you move past the guards who don’t pay him any attention, but he keeps his promise and doesn’t ask any more stupid questions. He feels something is very, very wrong. Maybe it’s for the best, though, that he is compliant. You don’t plan on hurting him unless he does something silly: you aren’t in the business of killing children, even if they are dumb and privileged. Luce is Aemond’s problem, not yours.

“Down to the left,” the boy whispers, horrified when his own brother walks by without giving him a single look, and you turn, taking the stairs, walking carefully not to let the kid or yourself slip. Your hand, holding a dagger to his throat, doesn’t waver.

After many minutes of painful wandering in the catacombes that reek of dragons - in a good and a bad way - you can almost see the tall figure with a torch in his hand.

Calm down, you tell yourself, biting your tongue, metallic taste immediately filling your mouth. Daemon is clearly insane but not stupid. He wouldn’t risk the death of Rhaenyra’s child over something so inconsequential. Hell, if anything, he’d probably be extatic if he had a possibility to burn Otto’s supporter just like this, quietly, with no fuss. What are the chances someone would even know? Besides, he’d get to see someone he hates screaming inside the fire of his own dragon, and you’re pretty sure it’ll be the highlight of his week.

“Please don’t kill me,” the kid whispers, and you raise your brows at him, finally remembering you’re not alone on your way to the mad prince consort. You didn’t expect Lucerys to plead.

With a sigh, you stalk closer to Daemon until there are but fifty meters between you. “I won’t, kid. A word of a mage.”

You don’t realize it was a slip of the tongue, but Luce is quiet against your dagger. You don’t see his expression changing to pure horror at your words.

The cave you end up in is a large one - big enough to fit a couple of dragons. Considering how many bones and sheep leftovers you see around, it seems Caraxes made it his lair: you can see a huge, lean, red beast with its nasty horns, baring its teeth at you, an abomination as all dragons are. It is a pity killing a dragon is a feast for heroes, not mages, you think with disgust. You surely wouldn’t mind pearcing a skull of this one with a spear.

The creature grows restless: born with an ancient magic running its veins, they are granted protection against most spells, and Caraxes can feel a stranger approaching. So does Daemon when he turns to you, taking the veil of the spell off. His eyes fixate on your dagger as you keep it close to the boy’s pale neck.

“You chose a peculiar way to threaten Rhaenyra,” he says in a too-calm voice, eyes narrowed. “She’s upstairs, not here.”

Although there is no threat in his words, you feel his desire to hurt you with your skin. Daemon is no paper soldier, and, unlike with Aemond, you don’t humor yourself, thinking there is much human left in him. He’s like his dragon, a vile, heartless creature that wants to burn and bring death to anyone he can. Were Viserys to abandon his throne, Daemon would drown Westeros in the blood of its own people.

You have to swallow before you speak, remembering to put on a brave face in front of the Rouge Prince. Daemon is the same sort of predator as Aemond, only older: when he feels someone’s weakness, he capitalizes on it overly quickly.

“I’m not here for her,” you smile, showing all your teeth in the same fashion as Caraxes just behind the prince. “I’m here to ask you for a favor.”

Judging by the sniffling you hear, Luce is crying.

Daemon cocks his head to the side, not even looking at the boy. “My favor? Surely, you aren’t trying to convince me to give up on this war?”

“No.” Your smile grows wider as you see Caraxes takes one step towards you, and press the blade into boy’s skin so much he starts to bleed a little. “I won’t be fighting a battle that wasn’t mine to begin with.”

Daemon doesn’t divert his attention to anything, regardless if Lucerys is whimpering in your hands, absolutely defenseless, but the eyes of the Rouge Prince gleam dangerously when he stares you in the face. “What do you want, Hightower girl?”

Well, finally, you think, your smile unnaturally wide. You hope this time it would go better because your enemy wants you die the most painful way possible.

________

“I want Caraxes to burn me.”

Part VI

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Does that mean Nika kills Arlong? Or just damages him enough to put him in his place?

Divinity shines through Luffy’s skin. It turns his body gold, casting long shadows on the floor. Arlong’s face goes still with shock, and then, slowly, with fear. It’s almost gratifying to see that, even after all this time, people still recognize the face of God.

When Joyboy next speaks it is not through the mouth he has borrowed from Luffy, but from his own throat, echoing and trembling through the broken room they’re in.

“You are ashes now, but there was fire in you once. You chose to let that fire turn to despair, and in your despair you lashed out. You have caused grave harm to the undeserving, Arlong. But this is not all you are. It is not all you can be. You know you are more than this.”

Arlong trembles in every limb. He drags himself backwards, away from Joyboy on his shaking arms. “You’re not him,” he says, and he is begging. “You’re not him!”

“I am.”

“No! Fuck you, you’re not him!”

“Look at me, Arlong. Look at the face of your God.”

“No!”

“It's not too late to fix this. You can be forgiven.”

“I can’t forgive you!” The words are a scream that might have been a sob if Arlong were clinging less tightly to his rage. “How — how dare you. You’re not him! Fuck you, where were you? Where have you been? Where the fuck have you been?! Do you know what they’ve been doing to us?!”

Guilt, that old, worn coat, settles heavy on Joyboy’s shoulders. He says “I’m here now,” because that will have to be enough. “The dawn will rise, and you should be there to see it.” Arlong has backed himself against the wall by now, slumped with nowhere else to go. Joyboy has followed him, and now stands at Arlong’s feet. He lowers himself to one knee, and reaches out his hand. Says “You know you can build something better than this. It’s why you’re so damn frustrated, you know what you’re capable of. You turned that frustration on the wrong target but it’s not too late to change your aim.”

Slowly, Arlong drags his gaze away from Joyboy’s (Luffy’s) face to instead glare at his outstretched hand. He stares like he’s never seen fingers before. “You want me to repent?”

Joyboy says “Take my hand.”

“You — you — do you expect me to kneel? Should I pray to you?”

“No. Just take my hand.”

“I won’t!”

“Do not let your pride keep you from the one thing you truly want. Take my hand.”

“Stop it!”

“Take my hand!”

“Never!” Arlong, weakened and beaten as he is, lunges with his teeth bared.

Joyboy swallows disappointment, and accepts his answer.

—————

“Why did you ask him?” Luffy mutters petulantly. “You knew he was gonna say no.” He nudges Arlong’s corpse with his foot and ignores the sharp disapproval Joyboy sends him, because of course he does. Brat.

Joyboy thinks of justice, and rage, and wasted potential. “Sometimes,” he says, “It is the asking that matters, more than the answer.”

Luffy scowls darkly and kicks the corpse again. Kick, kick, kick. Joyboy longs for his own limbs, if only to scruff the misbehaving pup. (His sons—) “He hurt Nami. She was crying. I wouldn't forgive him even if he said he was sorry.”

Luffy’s anger is not yet the wrath of a God, but the seeds of it are there. Someday soon those seeds will grow into a rage that bleaches the sky and calls forth a red and bloody dawn. For now he is a child, disrespecting an enemy’s corpse. (Joyboy longs for his own limbs, if only to embrace the boy.)

“The forgiveness doesn’t really matter either, in the end.”

Kick, kick. Luffy glares sullenly at Arlong's body as though there are answers to be found in his ruined flesh. "That's stupid," he says.

"Yes," Joyboy agrees, softly. "It is."

[mechformers]

Ma Miles - Ch. 11

3.1k words

Bold letters are spoken in English by the Reader to Quaritch.

'ts I, the easy writer that spews words in excitement after getting compliments... It's almost embarrassing by now lol Anyway, here's another, smaller, chapter for you!

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments! )

Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 12

Humiliated. That’s how he felt. Utterly humiliated. Embarrassed that he’d let his emotions develop into something so meaningless as infatuation. Being sweet on a hostile, no matter how pretty, was beneath him. It didn’t mean squat that she’d been his son’s mother all these years, didn’t mean shit that she’d raised him to be a confident and happy boy. It was wrong, and deep down, he knew that. 

Except… that wasn’t right. Immediately, the thought makes his chest hurt, makes his stomach cramp uncomfortably, the cruel lie proving too much for him. Shaking his head, he pinches the broad bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. Taking deep breaths to calm his frozen, racing heart, he eventually manages to ease the queasy feeling he’d been keeping at bay for the past hour. Stepping up to the ceiling-to-wall window, he looks out at the Pandora night skies. Distantly, behind the Kill Zone, the jungle almost twinkles with the bioluminescent glow from the trees and plants. 

Sighing deeply he rests his forehead against the cold glass. This was a mess. He knew that he couldn’t blame you for pulling away, for rejecting him. He was basically your jailor, the one who had kidnapped your son and held you prisoner, allowing for the events of your torture to happen. Still, he thought that he had read the signs right. Thought he had recognized mutual attraction when you sought out his touch, but he must have been wrong. You looked so uncomfortable when you had pulled away, giving the sorry excuse that you needed to get back to Spider. Your son was a teenager, he didn’t need his mother with him 24/7, but then again, a part of him understood. This was not an ideal situation… 

Still, his pride had taken a major hit, one he needed time to heal from. So he did the only thing he could, he separated himself from you. When your worried eyes had searched for his during breakfast, he had ignored you, instead continuing to push his food around. He knew that the action not only hurt you but Mansk as well. The younger man wouldn’t say anything, but Quaritch could see it in the way his ears drooped. He obviously thought that he had failed to impress his leader. Quaritch would have to do something about that. 

“Won’t you fix me up a box of this, kid,” He drawls as he steps up to Mansk when everyone had finished their breakfast. 

“Yes, Sir,” Mansk’s ears flip up to attention immediately, his tail swishing lazily behind him. 

“You did a good job with this,” The praise takes the younger man by surprise, the notion obviously not a common occurrence by the way Mansk reacts. Quaritch makes a note to praise his unit more often. Taking the box from the younger man, he turns to leave, only to run straight into you.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Quaritch dips his head, avoiding eye contact. 

“I need the talk with you?” You ask him, your voice almost small, but still determined and to the point. 

“I’m late for a meeting, it’ll have to wait,” He doesn’t wait for your reply, instead he strides down the hallways as if a thanator was on his tail. 

“Lyle, you’ve got lead today,” He shouts as he’s out of there like a bat outta hell. 

Willingly, he walks into the General’s office, prepared to bullshit a direct report just to fill a couple of hours of his day. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have anything to do, but this would be the less boring option. Making a face at the pile of paperwork on his desk in his room, Quaritch decided that the General definitely was the better of two evils. 

“Genera Ardmore,” He greets after she beacons him inside after he knocked. 

“Colonel, what can I do for you?” The woman smirks and immediately, Quaritch regrets his decision. 

“Figured a direct report was owed, after the mediocre paperwork, ma’am,” Quaritch bullshits through his teeth, but a shift in the General’s face is all he needs to clamber onto. 

“Go on,” Ardmore folds her hands over the desk as she leans back in her chair. 

And so he covers every base, going into detail about what they’ve learned, about how they mostly understand the ins and outs of Pandora and how it works. He reports how his unit is quick to catch on and how, with each day, they manage to handle the wildlife that poses a threat to their operations. The General eats it up with seemingly undivided attention, but there was something burning behind the General’s features.

“The native has officially connected us to their deity, by way of the queue in the back of our heads. We are now able to connect to places. I reckon we’ll be able to move out on Sully soon,”

“Well, that was a thorough report, Colonel,” General Ardmore starts, her beady eyes staring into his. “Good work,”

“General,” Quaritch nods, holding eye contact. 

“There’s something more I want you to do, however,” She continues, an unsettling smile crossing her thin lips. “I need you to mate with the hostile, to bind her to you. We need her to be completely under our control,”

“Pardon?” His ears slick back against his skull so fast it almost hurts. 

“You would have no problem with that, would you, Colonel? By the looks of it, you might already be bedding the female,” The smirk on the General’s face reminds him of a swindler back on Earth. 

“I’m not sure I get what you’re referring to, General,” He doesn’t know what else to say, the implication, one he doesn’t want to even consider. 

“Oh, come now, Colonel,” Ardmore starts, “She’s exotic for sure, the adoptive mother of your predecessor’s child, and in your new, young body, I'm sure you’ve got certain… biological needs. I’ve been willing to turn a blind eye to those needs as long as it hasn’t interfered with your mission,”

“I have not and will not mate with the native, General.” For long moments the room falls silent, the two of them staring at each other. 

“Then I suggest you find someone who will,” The General leaned forward, her beady eyes narrowing as she scowled at him. “Or I will find that someone for you.”

Nodding, Quaritch doesn’t say anything before he’s dismissed. Leaving the General’s office, he wanders the halls of Bridgehead city as his mind races. Just the mere thought of finding someone to mate with you sent his blood boiling, his tail whipping angrily behind him as he walked. There wasn’t a recom that was worthy of you, yet, he had to choose between them, take their and your freedom away for the sake of control. Could he even do that to you? A darker side of him clearly said yes, stating that the mission was more important than any one individual. But a stronger side of him told him that even the human Quaritch built strong bonds, bonds that would never be broken because his loyalty was unwavering. Unless you had betrayed him, he would walk through the jungles of Pandora at night for you without a second thought. He took care of his own, so why was this any different? 

The thought of binding you to him, to make you unhappy made his stomach turn. He couldn’t do that any more than he could mate you off with someone who would make you equally unhappy. This would be the hardest decision of his life, one where there would be no satisfactory result. The better of two evils… Sighing deeply, he decides to let it go for now. There would be no decision made today anyway. He mostly managed to hide from you the rest of the day, only getting caught when he needed to eat or needed a word with Lyle. He somehow always managed to weasel away though, but by the time night fell over Bridgehead city once more, your patience seemed to ebb out. Your voice was sharp as you called for him, but like a coward, he slammed his door shut before you could reach it, a sorry “No time, sweetheart,” thrown back to you. 

He was certain that you would take one look at him and just know. Know that he would seal your future happiness away, rob it from you like a… like the sky demon, the very monster your people thought him to be. Flopping onto his bed, Quaritch sighs deeply as he stares up at the ceiling. His datapad dings and he just knows that it’s Lyle checking in on him. Rubbing his eyes roughly, Quaritch turns around in his bed, smushing his face into the bedding. It smells of you and immediately his anxiety and stress mellow out, evaporating from his body like the morning fog. In the back of his mind, he wants to hold you close, to breathe you in while he wraps himself around you. Shaking his head at his ridiculousness he turns around on his back. He would take Spider out in the morning and when they returned, he would take you out for a way overdue heart-to-heart. 

Knocking on your door the next day Quaritch waits patiently before your voice sounds from the other side before opening the door. Your eyes look tired as you stare up at him, but instead of the annoyed lecturing he’s expecting from you, you just smile gently at him. 

“Good morning, ma’am,” He greets formally, devoid of all emotions. 

“Good morning,” You repeat, uncertainty entering your features as he continues to stare at you. 

 “I’m taking Spider flying today,” Quaritch informs you, watching disappointment spread over your face.

“Are you well?” You look up at him, hope entering your beautiful eyes. 

“I am well,” He replies, biting his tongue hard before he says something more, something entirely stupid. 

The silence stretches for an uncomfortably long time, long enough for Spider to walk up to you, a questioning look on his face before he crosses his arms and stares up at Quaritch - taking your side even though he doesn’t know what’s going on between the two of you. Chuckling at the ridiculousness, Quaritch throws his hands up in surrender. It’s enough for Spider to uncross his arms and look up at his mother. 

“Go with your sempul, my dearest,” You tell Spider, and oh - Quaritch recognizes that word. 

“I know that word,” He mumbles, his mind blank, while his ears turn attentively toward you, “Sempul, it means…”

He can’t help his eyes from growing big. You were acknowledging him as Spider’s father, even though you rejected his advances, even though he had pushed you away to lick his wounded pride. Even though he knew you were disappointed with him, you found it in your heart to give him this, not for your own gain, but for his happiness. You smile gently up at him while ushering Spider towards him. 

“Have a nice day,” You tell him before turning to your son - your son, his, and yours - “Be careful, okay?”

Staring at you for a moment longer, you just smile gently at him, the silence no longer uncomfortable. You’re letting him come to you when he’s ready, once more surprising him with your patience. He doesn’t want to leave, but Lyle is walking up behind him, Z-Dog in tow, and then he turns and walks away, following his son as he chats animatedly while they walk toward the hangar. Securing him to Cupcake’s back, they eventually take off, leaving you and Bridgehead city behind. As morning turns into day, he leads his unit to explore the shorelines for any sighting of either the Sully family or the insurgency, while Spider excitedly tests his Na’vi. To say he’s not doing as well as he’d like to, would be the understatement of the year. Even though he’s here with his son, his mind is still miles and miles away.

“Okay, this one; I see you,” Spider grins up at him while doing the hand gesture that follows the phrase.

“Oel naati kameie,” Quaritch pronounces, hand gesture and everything, just the way you and Spider had taught him. 

“Ngati - ngati,” Spider repeats with fond laughter in his voice, a big smile plastered on his face as he looks up at him.

“That's what I just said, isn’t it?” He has to ask, feeling that he nailed the pronunciation near perfectly. “Oel ngaati kameie,”

“Not naati - ngati,” His son twists his body towards him, placing his small hand on Quaritch’s knee. It’s so small against the blue of his skin. 

“Ngaa… Ngaaa-ti, alright. Like comin' out your nose or something - ati,” He thinks he got it this time, Spider’s guidance a big help when it came to the nasal stuff. Somehow, you always skipped this one rather quickly, your eyes never really meeting his. He made a note to ask Spider if it had another meaning to the Na’vi. 

“Boss,” Lyle cracks through the comms, pulling him out of his thoughts, “Long-range parole picked up a radar ahead, a rogue gunship,” 

“Where?” Immediately, his mind starts racing. This had to be Sully and if it wasn’t, it would be heading toward him. 

“Eastern sea, four clicks north,” Their course is set before he even thinks. 

“Uh-huh…” Quaritch hums, his head dipping as his Corporal reads his intentions. Leaning to the left, he holds onto Spider’s small body as Cupcake shifts direction, “Hang on,” 

Flying back to Bridgehead, he lets Spider wait with his unit while he takes Lyle with him to the ops center where General Ardmore is waiting for them. The glass of the holofloor slaps beneath his bare feet as he crosses the floor, the sound loud even in the noisy room. The General isn’t pleased with not having direct coordinates, but she knew as well as everyone that even getting this much of a pointer was a gift - she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

With the green light for a fleet and aircrafts, Quritch’s hyperfocus sneaks up on him once more. There’s nothing in his mind but Jake Sully and his wife while he prepares for the new mission. Almost nothing. While he moved, he felt like your eyes were watching him from every corner, judging him. He could hear your voice in his head, begging him, pleading with him to stop. But Quaritch couldn’t stop. Hunting down Jake Sully was the only reason he was brought back in this form, he would not fail his mission twice. If not for the RDA, then for himself. 

His unit was a band of misfits, a pack… a dysfunctional family. Once someone was accepted, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. Families stick together, through tough times, through real hardship. And alright, maybe he could have handled the Sully situation differently, maybe he should have listened to Ja when he told him to be more understanding of the situation. But he hadn’t. He put his neck on the chopping block for Jake, gave him time he initially didn’t have, and all for what? For him to turn around and spit in his face, to betray the family - to betray him. 

Marching Spider to the Ikran’s, Quaritch knew that this was wrong, knew that when you realized they weren’t coming back later that day, you would move the very foundation Bridehead was built upon to find your son once more - and when you did, he would have no more favors with you. Looking back in the direction of your room, he takes a deep breath before turning back to mount Cupcake. Getting a good grip on her handle, he makes tsaheylu, feeling her nervousness through the connection. 

“What about mom?” Spider asks as they take off and for a little while, Quaritch doesn’t know what to say. 

“Something’s come up, kid. You’ll get to see her tomorrow,” He doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not. Depending on what happens once they hit the island groups, they might be gone for more than just a day. 

Meeting Scoresby, Quaritch immediately knew what kind of guy he had to deal with. The guy was as slimy as mankind came, living only to gain, damning everything in his way. It’s easy enough to convince the guy to play along though, something Lyle found hilarious enough to repeat to the whole unit once they gathered around for supper. 

“You should have heard him!” Lyle wheezes, before doing the worst overly dramatic impression of himself that he’s ever heard before, “I’ll be nice, once - then I won’t,”

It has the desired effect though when smiles and chuckles spread across his unit. Even Spider huffs a chuckle while he eats. It soothes something deep within him to see his son smile again. Ever since leaving in a haste earlier that day, he had been down, keeping quiet and more reserved than usual. Sighing to himself, Quaritch promises himself that he will bring his son back to his mother again the next day. 

But with most plans Quaritch makes, the mission doesn’t go as planned. He brought Spider with them to translate in the water villages, the kid being much less trouble than his mother, therefore an easier target to play for their gain. Which was a good thing. The Olo’eyktan speaks way too quickly for him to understand what he’s saying, his accent making it harder for Quaritch to make out the words. More than once, he finds himself looking at Spider while desperately waving his hand for his son to translate. 

“Now what, what’s he saying,” He urges Spider, frowning as the leader keeps talking. 

“They never saw him. These are sea people, forest people don’t come here,” Spider hurries the translation along, his son so obviously distressed. 

“I ain’t buying that,” Quaritch sneers, looking back at the kneeling man before him. 

Quaritch is used to playing hard to get what he wants from people who don’t want to give him anything, used to methods unfit for children's eyes. Hyperfocused as he is on finding Jake Sully, he forgets just that. He forgets that his son bears witness to him ordering the death of a sea creature, forgets that his teenage son is standing right there, desperately translating while he orders the death of the Tsahìk unless they give up Sully’s location. It’s only when his Spider starts begging him directly, eyes filled with unshed tears as his voice quivers with fear, that he breaks the surface of his hyperfocused insanity once more. By then, it’s way too late to go back. 

He burns down three villages that first day…

Chapter 10 | Masterpost | Chapter 12

[blackrabbittwst]

Hi I was the one who asked for the Aladdin one and yeah I totally should've clarified!!! So what I mean is that I wanted their personality to be like Aladdin (charming mischievous quick-witted caring etc.) and that some part of Aladdins background in them. Like them being good at stealing things bc they need to. hope this helps. Please tell me if u need more info!!!

A/N: It’s all good! Thank you for the details! That should work!

A/N 2: I actually started writing this a year ago, so I’ll go back and proofread it later.

Synopsis: Dating an Aladdin-like S/O

Characters: Jamil Viper and Kalim Al Asim

Pairings: Jamil Viper x Reader, Kalim Al Asim x Reader

Gender/Pronoun: Gender Neutral

Warning: N/A

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim would be easily drawn to your charming nature. He already has this innocence and trusting personality, that he would be an easy person to captivate. Thankfully he has Jamil to help him avoid a lot of these people and their schemes at home. However, if you do fancy the adorable son of Al Asim, it won’t be too hard to catch him with your charms.

However, despite your charms, you’d probably be drawn into his own charms as well. While he may not act it, Kalim has his own unique charm that even draws the entire dorm to his side. So together you both would be a charming power couple! Everyone would be attracted to both of you and be surrounded with love and affection.

Since he’s such a pure boy, he wouldn’t initiate or encourage any mischievous schemes you might be pulling of they’re past the point of small harmless pranks. However if you only pull harmless pranks, he’d probably have fun setting it up with you and giggling. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make them sad. He would also be against anything violent since he wouldn’t want to see you hurt.

If your schemes or plans are more harsh, hurt people’s feelings, etc., he would scold you for not being kind to other people and how you’re better than that. He’d mention you’re too smart to be hurting others with your skills. You could be using them to help others instead. He might even get upset to the point of crying.

He wouldn’t really appreciate it if you steal at your older age. He’d understand and not criticize if you stole necessary items like food and water as a child to survive. However, now you attend the most prestigious magic school, so there’s no need to steal anymore. Instead he’d promise to buy you anything they wanted instead!

If you continued to steal after talking to him about it though, it will be a betrayal of his trust to some degree. He’s used to being taken advantage of by other people who want to obtain his wealth, so he’s experienced theft. The idea of you stealing would remind him of people who have hurt him in the past. He doesn’t understand why you would continue to steal if he could buy you anything you wanted.

If you wanted to give back to the poor, just tell him. He doesn’t understand what the lower privilege class goes through on a daily basis, so you would need to sneak him out to a town and show him first hand. He’s lived a life of luxury, but they doesn’t mean he’s greedy, if anything all he ever wants to do is make people happy and be happy. He’s willing to supply anything the town would need if you help him understand what they go through and what they need.

You and Kamil go into the town you grew up in while wearing hoods to cover your faces. You made sure to mention that this trip was purely to understand how people are living, and that you would help them later. If you both were not careful, people might recognize him and go into a frenzy. You did clarify that you would explain everything when you both made it back to the dorm because asking questions in earshot could also blow his cover. Holding his hand, you lead him to the back alleys where he comes face to face to starving children and homeless families begging for food. Kamil would look at them so sadly, not understanding how they got in this situation. He grew up in a home that always had plentiful of food and jugs full of water to the point where he never felt much in the way of hunger or thirst over a long period of time. Seeing these children run up to him and grasp onto his pants legs almost made him cry. The moment he’d watch you take out an apple from your bag and carefully hand it to the child, he knew he fell in love again. Your warm smile made his heart flutter and the way the child’s face lit up so brightly made him so incredibly happy when this child was crying merely moments ago. While you were handing out some food you had just bought down the street, many of the citizens asked you who was the man that accompanied you. Normally you would swing by these alleys by yourself, so seeing that you had a fried delighted them. They were all worried you weren’t making friends and that you were spending too much time there than at the fancy school you worked so hard to get into. You would reassure them it was the least you could do after all the help they gave you growing up. You did introduce Kalim to them as your boyfriend at school but mentioned he was very shy to avoid too much attention towards him.

Back at the dorm, Kalim asked you many questions, like why these people were without homes, why they didn’t have food, why no one else helped them, etc. You did attempt to answer all his concerns, but ultimately it really varies on a person to person basis. It broke your heart to see him look so dejected and sad to see all those people on need, especially since you grew up that way. After a large deep breath, Kamil hops up and exclaims that he was going to start giving back to those people! You were completely surprised, but not because you didn’t think Kalim would offer his wealth for other. It was the fact that he decided this so quickly and without any judgement towards the individuals who lived there. Of course you had to guide him on what to buy the people in the town. For example, they don’t need wine at the moment, nor do they need golden chairs to sit on. You were very gentle and passionate as you explained what are actually necessity items they don’t actually have. The list of common goods was so shocking to Kalim. He knew that they did not have much in the way of belongings, but even jugs to hold water was something they they struggled with since they could develop cracks over time. He would end up thanking you for showing him how grateful he should be about his life and that he should focus on using his ressources for the people in need. It really warmed you heart to see him so excited to help others like yourself.

Jamil Viper

Let’s be honest, Jamil would be super suspicious of you at first. He would be able to catch glimpses of you stealing food here and there or using your charming personality on the fly as you convinced people that you were not planning something like a scam (but you indeed were).

He would think you had ulterior motives when you wanted to get closer to Kalim. However what he doesn’t realize is that the reason you seemed to be getting closer to Kalim was to actually get closer to himself.

When he realized how caring you were and how you cared for the less fortunate, he would allow himself to open himself up more to you. He would act less cold towards you and not avoid your presence. By watching your good nature, he’d eventually realize you were not there to take advantage of the Al Asim family.

He’s used to keeping his guard up, so he would be apprehensive and not tolerate your mischievous side. He finds it troublesome since it causes him issues he’d have to clean up. However , if you involve him in your schemes, he’s totally game. He’d definitely want fo help if it was involving harmlessly pranking Kalim (as long as it didn’t get back to Kalim that Jamil was apart of it so his parents won’t find out), or if it involved scamming the King of Greed (AKA Azul lol). As long as Jamil isn’t responsible, he’s a lot more chill.

Like getting Kalim to run into a door opening blocked by cling wrap and seeing his face scrunch up in the transparent film! After you set up the trap, Jamil would probably be the one to lead Kalim to the door’s opening and duck gracefully under the film before Kalim runs smack face first into the stuff. Of course you’d all share a laugh afterwards (and someone might post it on magicam).

After learning to trust you, he’d also get caught up in your charm and be attracted to your quick-witt. While he does find Kalim a little troublesome, his own charm is what really keeps their friendship alive. Despite not showing it, he’d find this charming side of you endearing and special. It would be something he loved the most about you as your carefree nature won over the entire dorm

Similar to Kalim, you’d be able to convince him to do things with you despite his initial rejections. Please convince this overworked boy to relax and take a nap with you. Normally this would be impossible but if you worded it in such a way, he might be willing to listen. A decent excuse would be: enjoying himself and his free time rather than continuing to suffer and half-ass everything (so basically instead of trying to be mid, be lazy and smack off here and there), would be more worth his time. Also the moment when you quickly react to a problem, he’d be so impressed. It would be a reminder why he liked you in the first place. You had a quality that the Great Seven of Scarabia would adore, which was your wisdom.

When he finds out why you resort to stealing, he wouldn’t criticize you too much. He’s experienced his fair share of swiping food when he was in middle school, and your reason was even more heroic than his immature past self. However, he has matured since then and he would encourage you to stop the antics since it was bound to get messy and cause you more issues than benefit in the long term. He understands living as someone less privilege and trying to survive, but you’re at NCR now and there’s no reason to steal anymore. There were many other ways to give back to the poor that didn’t include the five finger discount.

He’d help you out as much as he can and maybe even manipulate Kalim to help out too. For example, he’d convince Kamil to donate money to you as a sponsor so you do not have to worry about your financial situation. He could also tell Kalim about donating his money to charities around Sage Island rather than spending it so frivolously. He’d also assist you helping others in need on his spare time like volunteering to cook for the hungry.

While in town on a free weekend, you were peacfully wandering around window shopping with Jamil and admiring the stuff you could only dream of obtaining. You noticed a small shadow moving in the corner of your eyes getting slowly closer than what you’re comfortable with. As the figure reaches in your pocket, Jamil swiftly snatch their arm and you turn to look at the thief in eyes. In front of you was a dirtied faced, wide-eyed small child not much older than 10. His face, despite all the soot and dirt smudged on his face, pales at the sight of his victim staring him down, catching him in the act of pickpocketing. His eyes water as he begins to tear up, so shocked as he gasps for air, attempting to utter a single word. Like a fish being quickly reeled in to be then eaten by a hungry fisherman, the small boy tries to wrangle out of your grasp. Before he could get free, he feels something cold hit his hand, which made him jump out of his skin. You gently let go of his arm as he scampers away desperate to get away from his captor. After rounding the corner, the boy remembers the cold sensation in his hand earlier. He slowly opens his hand to see a shiny gold coin. He closed his hand, and reopened it a few times thinking this was just a big joke.

“If you needed help, you could have ask us.” Jamil says behind him. ‘When did he even get behind me?!’ The boy thought as he whipped his head around to stare at the couple he just tried to pickpocket. Before he could zip off again, you kneel on the ground to his eye level and ask, “What do you need the money for?” Your kind voice resonated inside somewhere in the boy. It was something he hadn’t heard in a long time. The image of his late mother flashed in his head as she gently rubbed his head while softly telling him how much she loved him. Your voice alone allowed him to trust you and Jamil, just a little bit. “My sister. She’s sick. And my brother is starving.” The boy quietly mutters while looking at the ground. You hum with acknowledgement as the boy’s eyes fill with tears again, being reminded of his harsh situation. “Come back with us and we can get you some medicine and food.” Jamil says as he uncrosses his arms in front of his chest and reaches out to the boy. “B-but I just tried to steal your stuff! Why would you help me?” The boy croaked, thinking maybe their kindness was a trap. “Because I know how it feels to live a tough life.” You say with a sad smile as remember your time on the streets. He recognized that expression. It was the same as his mother’s smile as he watched her slowly lose strength from a rare disease. It was worry and guilt as she realized that she would be leaving her children to fend for themselves in this cruel world. Tears stream down his face as he sobs at your kindness. A small sigh escapes Jamil’s lips as he bends down and pats the child’s head. The boy, wishing for comfort, reaches up and clings into his arm, which surprises Jamil. After calming the boy down, the two of you go and buy the boy medicine and food for his siblings, which he was more than thankful for. After returning to the dorm, you made plans with Jamil to go back to town and check up on the child to make sure he doing alright. Jamil also suggests that he’ll cook some curry and bring it to them and any other homeless children in the area. It was then that Kalim overheard their planning, which lead to you telling the housewarden their encounter in town. Kalim’s eyes widen and start to tear up dramatically as he agrees to come along and help the children (much to Jamil’s disappointment since he’ll have to babysit Kalim, but he is thankful that Kalim is willing to help out at the same time).

[tennessoui]

It intrigues me so much thinking obi wan probably thought he was going to have a nice normal partner maybe a school teacher or a nurse, and live his days solving crime and then BOOM undercover on mob work and then BOOM Mob Boss is all over you like extreme osha (is that how you spell it idk) violations happening and then BOOM Killing someone because they could take it all away because they blew your cover and then BOOM going to the police ball where his shitty father can see him on the arm of said alleged mob boss WITH built in twins i feel like at some point obi wan is just sitting there thinking all of them and then shrugs cause in the end he got the hot rich dilf and he can do literally whatever he wants (well not everything but I’m sure you understand)

hello hello i finally wrote the scene where anakin/vader and obi-wan meet :D aka "boom mob boss is all over you like extreme OSHA violations happening" because i thought that was funny af

(1.7k)

It’s never a stellar sign when Obi-Wan wakes up to a headache like this. In the academy, it’d been a rare occasion. He’d never been one to join his fellow recruits for late nights out in the sort of clubs that dot the darker corners of Coruscant. He was the son of a police chief, after all, and that gave him certain expectations to follow, none of which left much room for drunken tomfoolery.

But the sort of headache that greets him when he wakes up is the kind of headache he recognizes from the worst sort of hangover, the sort he’s only had a handful of times in his life.

For obvious reasons, the very first thing he does when he finds the energy to squint his eyes partially open is to immediately roll over and away from the light source in the room with probably the most pathetic noise he’s ever uttered in his life.

He can’t even remember drinking that much the night before is the thing. He’d—why would he? He was—last night was—the first night of his undercover mission, he’d never risk it all to get drunk—

“Careful with your head,” a deep voice murmurs from very near to him, and Obi-Wan freezes. He doesn’t know who that is, where he is…how he got here. The material beneath his cheek is leather, so it’s most likely a couch that he’s resting on. “You took quite a beating,” the voice adds, and it sounds amused.

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut and tries to take stock of his body. He does hurt, that’s true. He hurts pretty much everywhere actually, like his body is one giant bruise.

He took a beating? He was only supposed to be a server at the club—it had been his first night on the fucking floor, how could anyone have even noticed him enough to—

Oh. One of Skywalker’s men. He’d hit on one of the dancers, Shela. She’d been nice to Obi-Wan, had shown him around and called him Benny.  

He’d gotten into a fight with the mobster when he wouldn’t leave well enough alone.

The fight had been taken outside. Six men against Obi-Wan. It hadn’t been much of a fight at all.

But where—

“Luckily, you’ve already been seen by the best and brightest in our fine city,” the voice says, and he must know he’s awake to be talking to him at all, but he still reaches out to touch Obi-Wan’s hair, proprietary. As if he knows he won’t be stopped.

The touch of fingers running along his hairline makes Obi-Wan freeze and then move, turning his face away, out of the man’s reach, and forcing his eyes open to glare at the touchy intruder.

His glare falters when he sees who exactly has found him. Where he must be.

Anakin Skywalker, businessman, restaurant owner, and suspected leader of the Coruscanti mob scene and its most violent family, stares back at him. His eyes are dark, his lips curled up into a smirk that makes Obi-Wan’s stomach tighten and his heartbeat rise. There is something very calculated and very cold about his eyes, and being under the full weight of them restricts his very breath.

“I was wondering if you had those,” Anakin Skywalker—known to all but a few simply as Vader—murmurs. He reaches out and touches Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, rough this time as if daring him to protest or flinch away from the movement.

The spike of tender pain makes Obi-Wan’s breath stutter. He must be pressing into a newly formed bruise. “Had what?”

Skywalker’s smirk grows. “Prey instincts.”

It’s like his heart misses a beat, lurching in his chest as he stares back at the mob boss. After all, he is wounded and weak and on what must be Anakin’s couch, inside what must be his home.

He’d been tapped by his father to infiltrate the Skywalker family’s mob, and he’s been studying up on all the information there is to know about Vader, his business, and his family since. The plan had been to work his way naturally into the confidences of the men of the 501st that frequented the strip club Obi-Wan got a job at. A free drink here and there, a charming smile, a flirty look….

The best way into the mob was to become a mobster’s fuck of the week. Or longer. Everyone knew that. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to think about his father signing off on his deployment, giving his permission for Detective Kenobi-Jinn to bend over and take it for the good of justice and law and order everywhere.

The plan had been to work his way into the affections of the mob, ask innocent questions in the minutes after sex when a mobster’s shields were mostly down, record the answers and report his findings to Detective Secura every other week.

The plan was not to wake up on Anakin Skywalker’s couch with the man caressing his face. The plan was not to ever even meet Skywalker. He was supposed to spread his legs for an underlying. A commander at most.

Someone like—what was the man’s name? One of the men last night—he’d been kind. He’d been someone Obi-Wan had hoped would come back, because—

“Daddy?” A voice asks from the doorway, and Obi-Wan lifts his head slightly at the sound. He’d known Skywalker had children, but he hadn’t known they’d be here—meeting Vader’s children was not in the plan at all.

Skywalker’s eyes darken, and he doesn’t take them away from his face, not even when he reaches out a hand to the doorway. “Come here, Leia baby.”

There’s the pattering of little feet and then suddenly a pair of big brown eyes is blinking at Obi-Wan from far too close to be socially acceptable. He twitches back on instinct, and a large hand wraps around the girl’s throat to tug her away gently. “We shouldn’t scare him, baby,” Skywalker murmurs in his deep, soft voice. “He’s skittish.”

Obi-Wan barely holds back an offended scoff. He’s not skittish, he’s aware enough to know that he’s at a significant disadvantage here.

At least it’s highly unlikely that he’ll be murdered in front of Skywalker’s kid.

“Daddy, Luke and I put all those band-aids on him and patched him up so good,” Leia says, allowing her father to drag her backwards and settle her onto the edge of the coffeetable. “You can’t make him bleed again.”

Alright, maybe the presence of his kid isn’t enough to usually keep him from murder. He sits up carefully, swinging his legs down onto the ground even though the motion makes him want to vomit. 

He’s barely vertical when Leia pushes herself under his arm to put her head in his lap, arranging his hand so that it’s resting on her head.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen and he looks at Skywalker.

The man just smirks as he leans back himself to look his full.

“You gave Luke head scratches all night,” Leia accuses when he doesn’t move.

“I—what?” Luke? Who is Luke?

“Rexy brought you to Daddy and he wasn’t here so he put you on the couch and Luke and I patched you up and you gave Luke so many head scratches even though he fell asleep which isn’t fair because we used my band-aids and you were sitting on my end of the couch!”

Obi-Wan blinks.

Obi-Wan’s hand starts moving, petting the girl’s head. 

Rex. That was the name of the man from the bar last night, the one who had been kind. Who had apparently looked after him, gotten him somewhere…reasonably safe. 

Perhaps the plan isn’t ruined after all.

“Oh,” he says very carefully. “Rex helped me? That’s very nice of him. I should like to…thank him personally then.”

Leia shoots up away from his side with an insistent scowl, one Obi-Wan is unprepared to deal with or understand. He looks away from her to frown at Skywalker, but Skywalker is wearing the same expression—though much darker.

“Weren’t you listening?” Leia demands. “Me and Luke helped you! Rex just gave you to Daddy!”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan blinks. He doesn’t…know what he’s supposed to be doing. Or saying. But he can try. “Well, thank you very much for your help, Leia. You and your brother made me feel much better.”

Leia beams and gives him a pat on the arm as if he’s a dog who has gotten a trick right. “Daddy,” she says and looks to Skywalker. “We are keeping him. Luke and I talked about it and that’s what we decided. We want Ben.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen. This is definitely not part of the plan.

But at least he’d been with it enough to give them his undercover name, despite being out of it enough to end up on Anakin Skywalker’s couch surrounded by his children, and then pet at them.

“I thought you were talking to Ahsoka about wanting a puppy,” Skywalker says. His tone is unreadable, but his eyes are softer as they look at his daughter.

Ahsoka. Ahsoka Tano. Vader’s second.

“Ben is better than a puppy,” Leia declares, and Obi-Wan feels sort of—touched. Despite himself. Despite the myriad of reasons he should be on his highest guard, even against this child.

“Ben is not even in the same realm as a puppy,” now Vader sounds amused. “If anything, you are requesting to adopt a little mouse.”

“Well…maybe Ben can be mine, and Luke can get the puppy,” Leia suggests.

Obi-Wan wonders if Ben is going to get a choice in this conversation, and then he wonders what he’d choose.

The plan does not mention him getting within touching distance of Anakin Skywalker.

As if he knows what he’s thinking, Skywalker turns dark eyes to him. “What if,” he says, in that soft tone he’d been using when he told Obi-Wan to mind his head, “I keep Ben, and you and Luke can get the puppy?”

That’s it then. The plan—and Ben—and Obi-Wan are all fucked.

“Okay,” Leia says.

Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything. His chest feels tight, and he's confused. He's confused because he's not sure he did anything to warrant being kept. He hasn't earned his keep yet. All he's done is bleed all over Vader's sofa. This is a deviation from the plan. He was supposed to be flirty and seductive and work to get the attention of one the mobsters until he ended up on his back for the good of the city. He's not supposed to--

“Well?” Vader asks, cocking his head slightly. 

“Okay,” Ben whispers, and Vader smiles. 

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hello, could I get a little bit of arsonist neil/firefighter andrew pls🙏 (hopefully you don’t get too many asks this week so you can enjoy tsc! Sending you much love💕)

WIP Wednesday (4/10) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 142)

Nathaniel’s hands are cuffed behind him and he can’t feel his fingers. It’s dark and damp and it smells like bleach. Bleach and... barbecue. Nathaniel chokes out a sob when he realizes that’s the smell of his own burning flesh. His arms are still aching from the treatment they received in the car. He’s going to die here. He’s going to die here.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t catch you, Junior?” comes a gravelly voice from the stairs.

Time’s up.

He’s dead. 

Nathaniel watches the Butcher come down the stairs with terror. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. If he’s still, maybe his father won’t see him. Maybe he’ll fade through the floor and disappear entirely. Maybe he’ll wake up in a motel bed with his mother behind him.

No such luck. The Butcher comes into view and looks down at him with a gut-wrenching smile.

“I have other business to attend to tonight. So I’m going to make this quick. Not too quick, mind you. I’ve always been a family man, I’ll make time for my son.”

Off to the side Lola laughs and it’s a cruel, disgusting sound. 

“First your legs,” The Butcher says, as if he's given it thought. “Then your arms. And I'll let you rest for a bit before I take your head. Understand that, Junior?”

Nathaniel gulps in a breath and nods, unable to do anything else.

The steel of his father’s axe glints under the single bulb dangling overhead and then it comes down—

Neil wakes with a gasp and finds himself still tied up. He can’t move. Can’t feel his legs. No, no, no. He thrashes and rolls around, trying to free himself, and ends up falling. He hits the ground with a thump and his heart is beating out of his chest. 

Where the hell is he? 

Where the hell is Nathan?

Neil blinks his eyes open and stares through the darkness until he recognizes his surroundings. A bed and a nightstand with a digital clock…? Neil lets out a breath of relief. He’s in his hotel room. 

And he isn’t tied up, but tangled in bedsheets and blankets. He flails until he’s loose and sits up to feel for his legs. Once he’s patted each of them all the way down to his toes, he lies back down and stares up at the dark ceiling for a second. His heart is still pounding and his head is hurting. Had he hit it when he fell out of bed?

Neil doesn’t know.

But he’s got to go.

He’s got to go now.

[biolizardboils]

Behold—The Grievance of the Graphite Ghostwriter and The Woeful Watercolor Heartache of the Weeping Wet Hairbrush!

notes and a sort-of plot under the cut!

My recipe for these was (Kid + Nuclear Waste + Favorite Creative Utensil) x Personality Trait That Could Realistically Boil Over. George’s trait is his sense of justice, Harold’s is trying to downplay his sadness with jokes

They’re foils to each other in a few ways: Writing vs. Drawing, of course, but also Dry Dust vs. Wet Puddles and Only Eyes vs. Only A Mouth

Their surroundings in the second pic is intentional too. George is attacking the cool-colored Downtown Piqua, where cold-hearted businessmen exploit their workers; Harold attacks the warm-colored suburbs, tearing open nuclear households to feel the warmth inside

They get two forms because Booger Boy and Sir Stinks-A-Lot did too and also I’m indecisive lol. Think of their first form as Mega Evolution and the second as Gigantamax. Introducing Pilkeymon Graphite and Pilkeymon Acrylic

The Sort-Of Plot

First off this takes place in an unholy mashup of all three canons, because again I’m indecisive. Anyway:

One day The Boys realize their comics tend to come true and try to game the system lol. They make one about them getting Writer/Artist Powers and fixing all of Piqua’s problems with them! ...But nothing happens, and it upsets them more than they want to admit

Later they go on separate field trips to opposite ends of town (they’re in different classes like in the Movie I guess). They miss each other and sneak away to self-soothe by writing/drawing

But someone comes to bother them—a teacher scolds George harshly for wandering off, and a mean older kid picks on Harold knowing The Tie won’t stop him. They try to get away and fall into the sewers, where their frustration (and nuclear waste) catalyzes their transformation

At first they use their new powers for good: George “rewrites” the teacher to stop misusing his authority, and Harold “repaints” the mean kid into a literal class clown. But they don’t feel better, so they try harder: bad businessmen give away their riches, and the gas station from Book 9 becomes a candy store. They still don’t feel better, and soon their well-meaning “fixing” turns everyone into either single-minded zombies or forcibly smiling blobs

Melvin was in the downtown field trip and Knows About Captain like in Book 8 or whenever it was, so he finds Krupp, snaps, and sics him on George. Then he goes to the suburbs and “tells” on both Boys to their families. “Hey your sons have been leading dangerous monster-fighting double lives and now they’re monsters and you should be mad at them about it!”

Meanwhile, Captain is horrified that one of his sidekicks has fallen to evil!! He doesn’t want to hurt George and tries to talk him down while dodging his Pencil-Tie. George yells that he could never understand what he’s going through and takes on his Tornado form, blowing Captain all the way to the suburbs. There Captain sees Harold, gets horrified again, and tries the same talk on him—cue his giant Dolphin form. And since he’s spewing wet paint everywhere, Krupp wakes up in front of Melvin and the families. (What Captain didn’t get is that the Boys aren’t evil now—they’re having literal nuclear meltdowns due to past hurt and current stress)

So now there’s two giant monsters wrecking different parts of the city, Captain is down for the count, and the Boys’ families know Everything. Someone says, “Well, at least it can’t get any worse!” Cue the Boys seeing each other in the distance, not recognizing each other, and meeting in City Center for a KAIJU FIGHT (in Flip-O-Rama of course)

Melvin calculates their weaknesses and everyone splits up to gather the necessary supplies. But by the time they meet back up, the Boys have already neutralized each other (Harold bites down on George’s tie, and George sucks the water out of Harold’s hair). So instead the parents just talk to them and hope they’re listening from somewhere inside the dust clouds and dried hair. They tell them that they know what they’ve been going through now, that they get why they didn’t tell them, but that they shouldn’t have to bear so much responsibility alone. Maybe they even get Krupp to apologize for the part he's played in their constant stress (as if I haven’t derailed canon enough already lol).

The Boys emerge, human and crying, and run into their parents’ arms. Everyone helps clean up the city and cure its citizens with the supplies they’d gotten earlier. The sort-of plot ends with everyone going home, making popcorn, and watching the Kaiju Fight on the news. They might’ve caused millions in property damage but hey, at least it looked awesome

The outcome: Now the Boys don’t have to keep as many secrets, and Krupp is a bit more mindful of how he treats his students. (And maybe he knows about Captain now too, I haven’t decided yet)

[sillybilly89]

A Tight-Knit Family

Analysis + Notes

Notes in Orange, Lyrics in White

I know it’s a REALLY long post I’m so sorry

Well the situation’s this

I do not wish to offend

This gives off a lack of responsibility, showing Marvin doesn’t truly care for how everyone around him feels

I divorced my wife

I left my child

And I ran off with a friend

Marvin first refuses to call Whizzer his boyfriend, but is proud of the fact he left his wife and child, hinting at the internalized homophobia he has

But I want a tight-knit family

I want a group that harmonizes

Harmonies are chords and such in music, we know this, but I think it represents how he wants his family to sing harmonies to “Marvin’s song,” which is ironic because when he says this, nobody is harmonizing with him, where when Mendel sings, we have a big impact where everyone sings a harmony.

I want my wife and kid and friend

Marvin lists Whizzer last, showing how he’s either afraid to stray from his hetero lifestyle, or he doesn’t care about Whizzer’s needs as much as he does the other two.

-I believe it’s the ladder because it’s reflected in The Games I Play when Whizzer says, “it hurts when he’s off playing family charades,”

To pretend

Wants a heteronormative relationship no matter how it affects Trina, Jason and Whizzer

-heavy on the word Pretend

-recognizes they won’t heal because of him

Time will mend

Our pain

Recognizes he’s doing Trina wrong by leaving DOESN’T CARE (butthole alert)

So it’s 1979

So we don’t go by the books

We all eat as one,

Cooking is major symbolism for their family throughout the whole musical. We see cooking be what holds people together in I’m Breaking Down, Jason’s Bar Mitzvah, and something that becomes sort of weaponized (for lack of a better word) in the context of Whizzer in Thrill of First Love and Chess Game

Wife, Friend, and son

And I sing out as they cook.

His listing is very important!! When he describes Whizzer as Just a friend, Trina always comes first in the listing. He doesn’t want to leave the the marriage title behind (continuous heteronormative fantasy)

I love my tight-knit family

I love the way they cook linguine

Isn’t it great we’re all so swell

Such a dear clientele

I swear we’re gonna come through it

I fear we’ll probably fight

He says this as if he wasn’t the one to cause EVERY single fight in act 1. For example, Thrill of First Love he was instagating, Marvin Hits Trina, and Chess Game

But nothings impossible live by your wit

I believe Live by your wit implies that Marvin believes he “hacked the system” by using Trina and Jason to cover up his relationship with Whizzer

Kid, Wife and Lover will have to admit

Him admitting Whizzer is his lover changes the order of the way he lists his family members

-while Trina becomes second to most important, he is still lists Whizzer last.

That’s right, I cushioned the fall

I want it all

I want it all

I want it

Again through these last few lines, I don’t want to restate things I’ve prob said like 8 billion times now

Overall, Marvin can show evidence of recognizing what he’s done wrong, but still refuses to change, as he finds himself not caring about the people around him

I’m going to do these in order, excluding Four Jews because I‘m not sure what I’d do with that

[nikikikiko]

Angsty set of Morgana-opinion Headcanons for the GaGene family bc yk what they need a bad day. just a bit of a bad day.

• Conrad is an easy subject. Morgana is… a much more complicated topic of discussion for the family. She’s influenced a large part of Gavus’s life, and raised Liberta, and they both have varying opinions on her.

• Gavus is a lot more solid in his feelings, they’re complicated, yes, but he’s solid in that his disapproves of her actions. He’s had time to come to terms that what she is doing is not okay and that he cannot support her any longer. Gavus knows that Morgana is not as good a person he thought she was, but even then. He cannot truly bring himself to hate her. She hurt him, his kids, his husband, and yet he cannot find it in him to hate her. He still wants to plead with her and make her see reason, even after knowing she won’t listen. He does find it painful, even now, to think about the good times with her. It’s jolting to know someone you loved and respected turned out to be so horrible, and it taints everything, Morgana is no exception.

• On Liberta’s side, it’s quite a bit more complicated. Liberta doesn’t know how to respond to Morgana’s actions and horribleness. He doesn’t want to believe it at all actually. He finds himself, often, unable to process what he had actually went through and what is good and bad in his childhood with Morgana because he genuinely cannot tell. Not to mention she treated him nicely, like a son! She can’t be all that bad then, right? She’s still a good person deep down, because she has to be.

• He’s got a good ol’ case of Mafuyu Asahina basically

• Eugene, on his own opinions, hates Morgana. He despises her, and every single fake ass person on the Celestial’s faction. He hates that she messed up badly, that she betrayed Gavus and raised Liberta to believe that his feelings don’t matter. He hates that she did that to his family, and he hates how the situation is complicated. It’s not like everyone can agree she sucks as easily as they do with Conrad. Hell, it hurts him that Liberta even saw her as a parental figure at all! That fucking sucks, and he can’t do anything about it because she DID raise his kid, like it or not. He’s mindful about what he says about her around the kids, but next to Gavus he’s mouthing her off left and right as many chances as he can get whenever she comes up in conversation.

• This both amuses and irritates Gavus. It’s essentially like, “Raven, I know you hate Morgana but can we focus for a second??”. The amusement moreso comes from the fact at least one of them holds enough hatred in their heart for both of them for that woman, thank you Eugene.

• Lastly, Lucilla. Lucilla’s feelings are extremely simplified: Morgana = Conrad. Conrad = Bad, Hate that guy. Morgana = Bad, Hate that girl. She understands there’s more nuance to it for Liberta and Gavus, she’s not dumb, and she can, to an extent, recognize where Liberta is coming from. However, it frustrates her a lot whenever she hears words in Morgana’s defense, from Celestials or otherwise. It’s awful, terrible. Just what about Morgana needs defending? What could possibly be so good about her? She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get any of it.

• Pretty much, the overall opinion as a family is, well, it’s complicated. Her actions run a bit deeper because of her emotional hold on two of their family members, and Conrad at least made it easy by acting like he doesn’t care (because, well, he doesn’t! Mans is as straight forward as he sounds: he just wanted power and destruction.), but Morgana? Morgana acted like she cared, and maybe she did at one point. For Gavus. Maybe she cared a lot about Gavus, and maybe she got attached to Liberta as well. But it doesn’t erase what she did, just simply complicates it further for the ones she hurt, because they loved her.

[dapandapod]

Brave your neck to see the sun

Just another thing that lives in my head rent free that is half a fic, half an idea, that begs to be written, so here is the mix of it. And because who I am as a person, I slapped it on Ao3 as well.

(cw, lettenhove has fallen, sad stuff in general, loss of family, their spirits)

Because....

Cursed Jaskier.

I mean, he is immortal, and his home, Lettenhove, is but crumbled rock by now, and jaskier is tied to their ruins. 

And maybe madness is threatening in the corner of his eye, maybe the past is talking to him, maybe the stones remembered what they looked like in ages past.

And Jaskier cannot leave.

Maybe this is where jaskier goes after the mountain, because when he last was home, it was still standing.

But the land is fallen, burned, ash on his tongue.

Maybe there was a curse put on the stones rather than him, keeping what remains of the family bound to the ground, for the dynasty to defend against an army should they return.

And Jaskier is caught in the ruins, and the remains of his family and his childhood.

Geralt finds Ciri, and she dreams of Yennefer, yes, but she cant' stop dreaming of a land that was, and she feels herself pulled there, but it is too dangerous, because it is on the other side of the army following her.

When they finally go, the survivors in the gathering of houses on the outskirts of Lettenhove speak of a ghost, of lights as the darkness is falling, of the sound of crying, and singing, sometimes laughing.

It takes time for them to make it up there, the magic fighting them every step of the way, making it treacherous and dangerous.

Jaskier can hear them coming, but they are not the first ones attempting to seek the treasures of what once was, and he hides.

They find a lute, broken in what seems in a fit of rage against the stones. some of the strings are still connecting the neck to the body, and Geralt feels a pang of fear when he recognizes it.

Jaskier has had time to make many hiding spots, a routa of sorts, of small camps. There are weeds growing around the cracked stones, sticking up defiantly, baring their necks to see the sun.

Eventually Geralt finds Jaskier, hiding in one of the crumbled rooms, a half burned painting propped up against the wall, a little girl with one eye covered with yellow locks looking out, holding the hand of her older brother.

Jaskier holds his dagger out, until he realizes who it is.

Geralt doesn’t know how to break the curse, and it hurts Jaskier to leave. They can’t stay with him, and to not raise suspicion they have to leave him behind.

Jaskier watches them leave, and he knows that he won’t see them again. Why would Geralt come back after all, now that Jaskier finally can’t follow.

He waits until he can’t see them anymore, until he believes they can’t hear him anymore, and he screams out his frustrations, voice echoing against the stones.

Eventually Yennefer finds him, and she has the solution. Not a pleasant one, but one that allows him to leave.

His bloodline is tied to this place, imprinted on him when his fathers father brought him underground and a small child, and put his blood among his ancestors.

What Jaskier thought was madness was instead shattered remains of a spirit.

With the witch’s help, Jaskier’s mother’s spirit wakes, and she cries when she sees her son.

“Where were you?” She asks, she grieves, she screams, until her rage has run its course.

More spirits rise, and Yennefer keeps them safe in the middle of the courtyard.

The curse can’t be lifted, but they learn that Jaskier can be freed, can move on from his past if he lifts his imprint away from the stone.

A grave hag has taken residence below, her cackling and grunting traveling up the stairs, and Yennefer too must leave Jaskier, to bring a witcher to help.

Her magic is still fragile, and she places her hand on Jaskier’s cheek as he takes her goodbye, leaving him with the spirits of his family.

Eventually it is Eskel who kills the hag, keeping Jaskier company when he laughs a little too loudly, his eyes a little too wide with unrest and grief.

When Yennefer finally returns, she brings Geralt and Ciri once more, and they are surprised to see Eskel by Jaskier’s side, the hag dealt with.

Yennefer presses Jaskier’s cut palm against the cold stone of his ancestors, chanting as she recalls his blood, distangles his past from the stone.

Above, the ruins creak and groan, the spirits growing agitated. They shriek and they trash and they try to protect their home from the intruders.

When they emerge, Jaskier is quiet. He is quiet as he tests his first steps outside the ruin grounds, and he is quiet when he looks back to what was his home, and then his prison.

The ground is covered in weeds, slowly dancing in the wind, the spirits keeping their own company.

Lettenhove is no more, and the ruins remain unbothered. 

Sometimes Jaskier returns, just to speak with his sister. Sometimes he sings to his mother, and talks about the worldly affairs with his father.

Jaskier is not tied to the stone anymore, but his spirit will not rest until his family does.

Ciri doesn’t dream of the ruins anymore, but sometimes she gets a faraway look, takes Jaskier’s hand, and asks if he would take her to the coast.

Geralt and Yennefer never reconnected after the djinn. and eventually finds another djinn to break the wish.

She finds her own way, even if it is connected to Ciri’s, and she finds her own destiny in the shape of a Merigold.

It takes time for Geralt to build up what he broke. Takes time to figure out how friendship works, and even more so when Geralt figures out his own feelings towards the bard.

The bard is not the same man, how could he be, but he grows anyway. Grows like a defiant weed in the cracks of a stone, baring their neck to see the sun. 

[rynneer]

Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction.

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing.

She’s carrying his child.

Chapter Six: Broken Crown

We all knew this scene was coming.

so crawl on my belly ‘til the sun goes down, i’ll never wear your broken crown. i can take the road, and i can fuck it all away—but in this twilight, our choices seal our fate.

-Broken Crown, Mumford and Sons

The commotion on the rampart grows louder as you rush up the stairs, going as fast as your diminished stamina lets you. You arrive at the top with a gasping breath, seeing Thorin already holding Bilbo atop the wall, staring down at Gandalf approaching from the gathered troops.

“If you don’t like my burglar, please, don’t damage him!” he booms. “Return him to me.”

God bless that wizard, you think to yourself. God bless that fucking wizard and his timing.

“You’re not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?” Gandalf observes.

Thorin looks at him for another moment before letting Bilbo slip from his grasp. Balin and Fíli help him to his feet. The hobbit flings a rope over the wall, Bofur pushing him forward urgently, and scurries down.

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards,” Thorin shouts. “Or Shire-rats!”

You flinch at the venom in his words. Thorin’s eyes find you lurking by the wall. “What?” he demands, storming forward. “Do you have something to say?”

He’s nose-to-nose with you, daring you to defy him. You search his face, hardly recognizing the dwarf who who begrudgingly accepted you into his Company, who shielded you from fire and wargs, who welcomed you into his family.

“This is wrong,” you whisper. “This isn’t you.”

Thorin is silent for a moment. “Then go,” he spits. “Go join your kin amongst Men. You are no Durin.”

Though you know his mind is twisted by the dragon-sickness, it doesn’t soften the blow against your heart. The other dwarves look at you in dismay.

After a moment, your face hardens, and you stand tall, standing exactly level with Thorin. “Fuck this,” you say quietly, pushing past him, rougher than necessary, towards the rope. “I’m not dying over a fucking rock.”

He sneers at you and turns on his heel to storm back into the keep. The dwarves pat your arm firmly as they pass, Balin squeezing your shoulders. “Be careful,” he murmurs.

Fíli and Kíli stay put, looking at you helplessly. Kíli grips Fíli’s arm. “Fíli…” he trails off.

Fíli turns to his brother. They stare at one another wordlessly, then he grabs Kíli’s hair and pulls their foreheads together, whispering something in Khuzdûl.

Kíli nods, pulls back, and wraps you in a tight hug. “Be safe, little sister.” He withdraws and starts down the stairs, turning back one last time before vanishing.

It’s just you and Fíli on the wall now, watching the backs of Thranduil and Bard’s troops as they make for their camp. Tiny flakes of snow speckle Fíli’s armor, and his breath billows out in frosty clouds.

“Now what?” he asks.

Your mind whirls. In the book, the Durin clan dies standing together. In the movies, they die standing alone. I don’t know if I can save them all, you think, but I know can save one.

“Come with me,” you urge, grabbing Fíli’s arm.

He tenses. “Y/N, I… I can’t just leave him… I’m his heir, the crown prince—it’d be the highest betrayal!”

You lean in close. “He’ll forgive you for leaving,” you whisper in his ear, voice trembling. “But I won’t forgive you for staying.”

“He’s family,” Fíli pleads.

Your heart twists in your chest, but you know you need to hit him where it hurts. You seize his hand and put it to your belly. “We are family too,” you insist. “Please, don’t leave me to raise our baby alone.”

Still, he hesitates.

One final weapon. “Fíli. If you stay, you die.”

Fíli’s eyes widen. “You said you’d never tell us our fates—you wouldn’t change the story!”

Your hold on his wrist tightens to a death grip. “I’m tired of pretending like I’m not part of this world,” you hiss. “I’m done acting like I’m not part of the story. I’m not going to let you die here, Fee.”

A look of anguish crosses his face. Your vision starts to swim with tears as Fíli looks from you, to the rope, to the doorway Thorin had stormed through, to your stomach. The anguish hardens to resolve, and he nods slowly. “Alright,” he says with a deep, shuddering breath. “Alright.” He shifts his belt so his sword is along his back and wraps an arm tightly around your waist, hoisting you onto his hip. “Hold on tight,” he grunts.

You cling to his neck and he grabs the rope, throwing a leg over the wall and slowly belaying down. Heights don’t normally bother you, but you bury your face in his shoulder, unable to look at the ground far beneath you. Your bag sways and bumps against your back with each of Fíli’s bounces downward. The descent lasts far too long, but at last you feel solid earth beneath your feet.

No sooner than you land does a hand seize your collar and pull you into the shadow of the wall. “What are you doing out here?” a voice hisses in your ear.

Tauriel! “I thought you were dead!” you choke out.

She releases you and Fíli, who grabs your upper arm tightly, ready to flee. Tauriel looks down at you grimly. “It will take more than dragon-fire to put an elf of Mirkwood down.” Her eyes shift to Fíli. “So, you abandon your kin, dorn?” [dwarf]

Fíli bristles, but you place a hand on his chest and push him behind you gently. “We need to get somewhere safe. Can you help us?”

Tauriel regards the pair of you with a measured gaze. “Is Kí—is your brother safe?”

Fíli nods, and Tauriel visibly relaxes. She looks back up at Erebor, then across the field in the distance where the white top of Thranduil’s tent is just barely visible in the quickly fading light. “Follow me. Quietly now, and swiftly.”

You make your way across the frozen ground until you come to a halt in front of a pair of elven guards. They seem astonished to find Tauriel standing before them, intact, if a bit charred. Nevertheless, they cross their spears to block your path. “Daro!” they cry in unison. [Stop!]

“We seek an audience with the king,” Tauriel explains.

“The king has no interest in communing with traitors,” one snaps. “Perhaps the gornoth will take pity on your plight.” [dwarves (derogatory)]

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward. “At least let us talk to Bard, or–”

“My goodness, could that be the voice of Lady Y/N that I hear?” A wizened hand sweeps open the tent flap and Gandalf steps out, his eyes twinkling in the torchlight.

“Gandalf!” You duck under the spears and rush forward, throwing your arms around him in sheer relief.

Gandalf seems mildly surprised by the gesture and pats your back. He raises a bushy eyebrow when he notices Fíli, and pushes you back gently by your shoulder. “Does Thorin send you to parley?”

“No, we come of our own accord. To seek refuge,” Fíli adds, indicating your belly. He swallows. You know how hard this must be for the proud dwarf prince.

But as you await Gandalf’s response, it occurs to you now that he has no knowledge of you and Fíli’s relationship, and certainly not of your pregnancy. You hold your breath.

The wizard looks down at you, then back to Fíli with a frown. “Come in from the cold and we shall discuss this… development.” He ushers you inside, where Bard, Thranduil, and Bilbo sit at a small table.

The elven king is on his feet immediately. “Why have you brought a–” but his demand ends in a sputter when Tauriel enters behind you.

She meets the king’s eyes steadily and dips her head. “Your highness.”

A small smirk crosses Fíli’s lips at Thranduil’s stunned face.

Gandalf brings forward a small chair, gesturing for you to take a seat. You do so with a grateful smile. Fíli moves behind you and rests his hands on your shoulders. You take one with a squeeze.

Gandalf sits as well, leaning forward with his hands folded. “Am I correct in assuming that…?” he waves a hand in Fíli’s general direction.

You swallow hard and nod. “Things… things happened.”

“And what of Thorin and Company?”

“We can reason with him,” Fíli cuts in. “Now that you have the stone, there’s some bargaining power, surely!”

“It’s dragon-sickness, Fee, there’s no reasoning with dragon-sickness!” you snap.

“Y/N?” It’s Bilbo. “Do you know what comes next?”

You frown and dig in your bag for The Hobbit. Thranduil and Tauriel exchange looks of confusion.

“It’s a… power of prophecy, of a sort,” you mumble, thumbing through the pages. “We’re only a few pages into chapter seventeen…” you trail off as a dark word consumes your mind. “Orcs!”

Thranduil leans forward. “What?”

“Orcs. That’s—that’s it, that’s all I can think about—fuck!” You bury your face in your hands. “I can’t see it. I’ve changed the story.” You take a deep breath. “Orcs are coming. I don’t know when, I don’t know how many, but they’re coming.”

Gandalf rises swiftly, retrieving his staff from the corner of the tent. “Then we must be ready. Is there any possibility of reasoning with Thorin?”

You rub your temples. “I can’t be sure. I think he recovers—maybe Fíli leaving will speed it up?”

Fíli flinches slightly.

The wizard nods. “Ready your troops. Be prepared for battle by dawn. We will not be caught unawares.”

Thranduil and Bard offer their agreement, Bard standing to leave for his own lodgings. He pauses, glancing at you and Fíli with a curt nod. “Congratulations.” With that, the archer is gone. Thranduil is swift to leave as well, Tauriel falling easily into place behind him.

“Someone needs to warn Thorin,” Fíli says. He places a hand on the hilt of his sword and makes for the exit, but you snag his wrist. He twists against your grasp, and you hold tight, fingers digging into his skin.

“You’re staying here,” you insist.

“I’ll go,” Bilbo says quietly.

Fíli scoffs. “They’d skewer you with an arrow as soon as you’re within sight of the gates.”

“Well, I did manage to sneak in and out of Erebor without a terrible dragon noticing,” Bilbo points out. “I think I can get past a few dwarves.”

The dwarf just snorts in response.

Gandalf regards the hobbit curiously, watching Bilbo’s fingers fidget in his pocket. “Very well then, Bilbo. As for the pair of you,” he raises an eyebrow in your direction, “I was just about to put on a pot of tea, and I believe Lady Y/N and her little one are sorely in need of some proper nourishment.” He dips his head and ducks out of the tent.

A long, shaking sigh escapes you. You lean against the back of the chair, weariness plaguing your bones. Fili returns to your side and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he separates out a thin section of your hair, carefully beginning to weave it into a braid.

You let out a small gasp, covering his hand with your own. “Fíli? Now?”

He smiles, gently pushing your hand aside and continuing. “If I’m to go into battle at dawn, I want everything to be proper.” The braid complete, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny, wooden bead with delicate etchings.

You take it from his outstretched hand. The wood is rough and unsanded, but you can make out a crude attempt at your and Fíli’s initials in English, as well as runes you vaguely recognize as Khuzdûl. You blush, not thinking your brief alphabet lesson ages ago had taken hold.

“I may have nicked your book to practice,” Fíli says with a wink. “Took me ages to get your silly runes right.” He folds your fingers around the bead and sinks to one knee in front of you—you didn’t think your human courtship lessons had taken hold either. His eyes sparkle as he gazes up at you. “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes fill with tears. “Yes,” you whisper.

Fíli grins and takes the bead back, securing it in your hair and kissing it gently. You yank him in by the collar and press your lips against his. He melts into the kiss, fingers tangling in your loose hair.

Applause from the corner makes you pull back with a jump. You had forgotten Bilbo was still in the tent. With a lopsided smile you stand and push the hobbit out towards Gandalf and the fire. “Give us some privacy!” you chide good-naturedly.

Fíli chuckles and rises as well, pulling you close. He kneels back down, lifting your tunic and kissing your stomach, making you flush even more. “You take care of your amad,” he whispers to the unborn dwarfling. “Adad’s got to go scout out the perfect place for our wedding.” He grins, and you grunt, when the baby kicks against your stomach.

You sigh again and kneel with him, leaning into his arms. You’ve changed the story so much, the future is dark to you now—all that is left is to place your faith in the strength of the dwarves.