#we all need a couple women we just love for existing around

[wild-wombytch]

Hi, women are great.

That's it, that's the post.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirteen

authors note: welp. the gala is finally here, friends! i hope you enjoy. well, the enjoyable parts.

ya'll remember that promo where kevin and sami tried to jump roman and he was furious, throwing shit out the ring, yelling at solo to position sami for the spear? that's how angry our collective favorite grump gets in this one...

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

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of torture, fighting violence, language, angst, fluff, livid roman, and discussion regarding family loss.

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

masterlist

words: 11k

“Guys, is this really necessary?”

Truth be told, Solana already knows how both of her friends are going to respond. Bayley, however, is the one who briefly rips her focus from finding an x-large size in the top to the matching bottoms she’s picked out for Solana.

“It absolutely is necessary.” She takes a second to gesture to Solana’s outfit for the day. “You’ve come so far in so many ways, including not hiding your body as much, so we have to keep that going.”

“Exactly,” Naomi chimes as she reaches yet another dress to Solana, adding it to the pile of clothes she already has stacked on her arm. “Besides, who doesn’t love shopping with other people’s money?”

Other people would be Roman. Despite her horror at the totals every time Bayley and Naomi sucker her into these outrageous shopping trips, her husband never seems to bat an eye. It’s not unsurprising. She knows he’s filthy rich. But still, just the thought of spending so much money on clothes is a struggle.

And as Bayley adds the two piece suit to her arm, Solana starts to notice there’s a theme in the items they’re picking for her. A lot of bathing suits. Sun dresses. Shorts and thin sleeved tops. All appropriate for summer, of course. But, something else. 

Like a trip.

Curious, Solana suddenly asks, “why are we getting so many vacation type outfits?”

Naomi looks at her with the perfect confused expression. “What?” She laughs, picking up a bright orange top with a low neckline. “Girl, it’s summer. These are summer clothes.”

“But all these bathing suits—”

“Because we finally got you to embrace a two-piece, so now we need to make sure you have plenty of em’ whenever you and Roman decide to go for a swim.” Her wink makes Solana look away to hide her blush. She doesn’t regret opening up about trying to eventually consummate her marriage, but the way Naomi and Bayley never waste a chance to crack an innuendo can be….a lot at times.

“I’m gonna go bring these up front.” Solana gestures to the heavy stack of clothes that she’s holding. The second, or maybe third, stack they’ve accumulated for her. There’s always a check-in regarding if Solana likes it or not, which she appreciates. Even if they’ve become exceptionally good at distinguishing whether she doesn’t like something because it’s just not her style or whether she doesn’t like it because of insecurity. And when it’s the second one, they never hesitate to invoke their veto powers, instructing the cashier to ring it up.

Solana finds the sales girl from earlier up at the register, messing around on her phone as the line is non-existent. Her emerald green eyes dart up from the screen and an almost crooked smile falls on her young looking face. Solana would guess she’s either in her late teens or early twenties. 

“Got more for me?”

Solana giggles. “Just a little.” 

The girl also laughs, accepting the new pile and adding it with the others. She turns back around with a bit of skeptical look. “Hey, uh, can I ask you something?”

Curious, Solana nods. “Sure.”

She leans over the counter, red hair sprinkling past her freckled shoulders. “How did you meet your husband?” Eyes widening a bit, Solana’s surprise at the question must show. “I’ve seen you come in here a couple times now over the past few months, and every time you spend more than what my parents probably make in a month combined. And your ring is so beautiful. I guess I’m just kind of wondering how I can get lucky too. Cause your husband clearly loves you a lot to spoil you so much.”

Love…..

Not until this very moment has Solana ever thought about Roman and the word love in the same sentence. Hell, in the same universe. 

He’s….he’s done so much for her. Changed her life, for the better, in almost every way. And she’s gathered that he must care for her to some extent. Why else would he do the things he’s done? But love….that’s such a strong word.

Too strong.

Not to mention, he’d made clear to her the first time he came to visit her at her job that he could never love her. He was very honest about that, and in a weird way, she appreciated it.

But…..but he also said that she was a business arrangement, and nothing about the way he treats her feels like a business obligation.

So…..

It’s such a big thing, a big thing she’s not sure she wants to tackle in public, let alone while standing in front of a complete stranger. 

“He’s really great.” That’s the answer nonanswer that she settles on. “I just….I got really lucky with him.” Because she did. God knows she did.

“Fair,” the girl laughs. “Well, if he has any younger brothers who are kind and generous like him, I’m single.”

Solana smiles a bit when her attention lands on the word brothers. Siblings. Family. 

It takes her back to a few months earlier, the night he rushed off because of conflict with this Cody Rhodes person. The night he shared with her he also lost his mother at the age of ten.

But…..but there was more.

Brief glimpses, flashbacks almost of a different night. Her body pressed against his. His strong arms around her. Comforting her almost.

“....all of my siblings….”

“.....only one…..”

“....alone….”

And though she can’t make out everything, can’t remember verbatim what he’d shared with her that evening. there’s enough bits and pieces that she’s able to string together a coherent, heartbreaking realization. 

It wasn’t just Roman’s mom he lost that night.

He lost his entire family.

He was the only one who made it out alive. 

There’s a crushing, cumbersome weight Solana feels in the back of her throat as well as the pit of her stomach. She knows better than most how devastating the loss of family can be, but to lose your entire immediate family in one night. As a child?

That’s a pain she can’t even imagine.

Roman makes a lot more sense now, his coldness, the constant aloof disposition. The way he always has his guard up. Beyond just his title as Tribal Chief. How can one not lose trust in most and all things with a loss like that?

How can one love after a loss like that?

Realizing her epiphany is unfolding behind the sales girl, Solana manages to murmur out a, “I’ll keep that in mind” before excusing herself. She just needs some space. Needs some—

“Solana?”

The woman in question is close to the entrance of the story when a voice, both new and familiar, calls her name, forcing her to turn around. And it’s when she does so that Solana realizes why it’s familiar.

“Dom?”

It’s been years since she’s seen him, and he looks both the same yet different. Facial hair that seems uneven and unconnected with a hairstyle to match, bangs almost entirely obscuring his bushy eyebrows. He’s dressed in all black, clothes draped over his still slim build. Once upon a time, she would grow nervous around him, insecure of herself in comparison to someone she thought was so much more attractive than he actually was. Now though, she just wants to pretend this unexpected encounter never happened.

“What are you—”

“Did you get bigger?”

And there it goes. One simple question asked with almost a hint of a mocking smile, Solana is briefly reverted back to those days of deep rooted insecurity. Where she’d hold her stomach in around him and always only order salad the few times he took her out.

For a second, she’s tempted to cross her arms, suddenly regretting the top that doesn’t entirely connect with her high waisted shorts, exposing a strip of skin. 

“Damn. I really thought you would have gotten yourself together by now.” He scoffs, crossing his arms as he tilts his head. “You still not putting out? Cause your tits are actually not that—”

“Shut up.”

Solana isn’t sure who’s more surprised by her interruption. Him or her. Perhaps him, because his smile is dropped, replaced with an almost scowl.

“What the hell did you say to me, mami?”

But instead of cowering, instead of her anxiety growing at him, a man, moving closer to her. Trying to intimidate her. Solana doesn’t back down.

She doesn’t back down because she’s not scared. 

Chin lifted, she keeps her voice firm and unwavering. “You don’t get to talk about me anymore. Not my weight. Not my body. None of it.” Seeing the shock in his eyes at her actually standing up for herself, not allowing him to talk down on her like he always would, makes Solana’s assertiveness that much more fulfilling. “Now leave me alone.”

She turns to walk away when she hears footsteps behind her. “Where do you think—”

Call it the result of her training or the fact that she’s still very much in her feelings and head about her heartbreaking realization regarding Roman, Solana hasn’t a clue just what leads her to spin around and connect her fist directly with Dom’s nose. However, as soon as she does it, sees him stumbling back into a rack, she slaps her hands over her mouth.

“Oh my….” But instead of apologizing, instead of feeling terrible for hitting another human being, she finds herself almost laughing. A shocked, amused smile hidden underneath her palms. Her first is hurting a bit, but that sting is dulled by the satisfaction of his dumbfounded facial expression.

It’s a bit short lived though as he straightens up and starts to stalk toward her. “What the hell? You crazy puta—”

“What the fuck did you just call her?”

Solana turns to see Bayley and Naomi. It’s hard to distinguish who looks more pissed. Who looks more ready to commit murder.

Naomi steps forward. “I know you did not just call her a bitch.” She turns to Bayley. “That’s what puta means in Spanish, right?”

“It sure does.” Bayley answers, coming to stand beside Solana. Protectively. “He called her a crazy bitch at that.” She scoffs, dressing him up and down. “Everyone knows you’re an idiot, Dom, but I didn’t think you were that stupid. Who the hell do you think you are talking to her like that?”

“He’s my ex.” Solana answers, partially unsure why she would let slip a piece of information that could only make the situation worse.

Naomi’s mouth drops open, one thumb gesturing to him. “Dirty Dumbass Dom is your ex?” Her eyes widen even more. “The one who said—oh hell no, Solana. We’re kicking his ass.”

Bayley lifts her hand, effectively stopping Naomi as she moves forward, no doubt ready to lay into him. Head tilted to the side, she smiles. “No….I have a much better idea.” Solana is understandably confused as Bayley tells Naomi, “I still have my stuff in my trunk.” 

Naomi’s eyes light up. “Oh, this just got so much better.” She turns towards the sales associate who’s been watching everything unfold from a distance like it was a TikTok storytime. “Hold the items, please. We’ll be back in a little bit.” 

Solana turns around to see the girl just give a thumbs up and shrug. “Do what you gotta do.”

Dom groaning in pain is what makes Solana turn her attention back to him, only to see him doubled over, holding his crotch as Naomi hits him in his back and starts guiding him out the store. “Get walking. Now.”

“I’m not going any—-” He cries out once again when Bayley kicks him in his face. 

“Shut your bitch ass up!” She curses in Spanish, motioning for Solana to follow them. “Come on, girl.”

Confused but following suit, Solana asks, “what are we doing?”

Naomi answers with intentional vagueness. “Having a lil’ fun.”

Something tells Solana they have different definitions of fun. 

But she remains silent as her two friends quite literally drag Dom out of the store, through the rest of the stores until they reach the parking lot. She’s again surprised when they take him over to Bayley’s car. She unlocks it and opens the trunk, pulling out a black bag that she hands to Solana. Solana starts to peek inside when something else catches her attention. 

Bats. 

Metal bats. 

She has two. One of which she reaches to Solana.

“I—just what are we doing?”

Bayley’s smile is nothing but mischievous. “Having some fun.”

Naomi suddenly pulls out a knife and presses it to his throat. “Take us to your car. Now.” 

Dom is quieter than she’s ever known him to be as he follows Naomi’s directive, leading them to his fancy pickup truck that Solana, even with her limited knowledge about cars, can tell is worth a pretty penny. 

They make him unlock it to ensure it's actually his truck before Bayley starts to circle it. She nods, as if impressed. “Nice. Can tell you’ve put a bunch of upgrades in.” Solana’s mouth drops open as Bayley takes her key and slides it along the truck as she walks. “Might need a paint job though.”

“What the hell! You—” He’s silenced by Naomi kicking him in his back, forcing him to the ground, knife still pressed against his throat. “You’re all fucking crazy!”

That only makes Bayley smile as she directs Solana to lay the bag on the ground, bending over and pulling out a portable bluetooth speaker. It’s only when seeing the glitter, paint, and glue that Solana starts to put two and two together.

“Are we—”

“Uh huh.”

She gasps. “But, we can’t—-we…..” And suddenly, she’s trailing off, thoughts of all of the cruel, unkind things Dom would say to her, the way he would put her down, fat shame her, bringing her to tears. The memories help her tune to change a bit. “C—can we?” 

Bayley stands up and places a hand on her shoulder. “Solana…..you are Solana fucking Reigns. Wife of Roman Reigns, the Tribal Chief, the Head of the Table.” Out of the corner of her eye, Solana can see Dom’s eyes go wide as saucers. He clearly wasn’t aware of this. Of her marriage. Of just who she calls husband these days. “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

Bayley’s hype is effective as she pulls out her phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker. A small smile falls on Solana’s face as she hears the familiar and oh-so fitting song. 

Right now,

He's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp

And she's probably getting frisky

Right now,

He's probably buying her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Bayley gestures for Solana to move closer to the truck. “Your ex. First hit is yours.”

“Solana, wait, please. I—I didn’t know you were with him.” Dom’s pleading and begging is desperate and embarrassing. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

For some reason, that word has never made her feel so irritated. 

“No, you’re not.” And without a second of hesitation, she takes the bat and swings it against his passenger window, effectively shattering it. On the side, Bayley and Naomi cheer her on, Solana not even needing encouragement as she moves around to the other side, doing the same to the driver’s window.

Bayley howls out, “let’s fuckin’go!” She takes the bat and brings it against the rest of the truck, creating dents, scratches, and anything else that can desecrate what she’s sure makes up for other deficits. 

Solana just took out the mirror on the passenger side when she hears Naomi aggressively yell at him not to ‘fucking move.” And Dom doesn’t, just watches helplessly as she moves over to the bag, pulling out the glue and glitter. She smirks in his direction, lifting the materials of destruction. “Time to glow, bitch.”

Solana laughs as Naomi rips open the door and starts pouring the deadly combination of glue and glitter all over the interior. 

I dug my key into the side of his pretty

little suped up four wheel drive

Carved my name into his leather seats

Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights

Slashed a hole in all four tires

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

The ironic and iconic lyrics serve as a manual and guiding force for Solana as she catches the tossed keys from Bayley who’s on the hood of the truck going HAM on the roof with the metal bat. Solana finds herself feeling almost giddy as she effectively slashes all four of his tires.

This is the last thing she ever saw herself doing: completely destroying her ex’s car without a care in the world, but it’s also exactly what’s happening.

And she can’t even say that she feels any regret about it.

Doesn’t feel bad about it.

Why should she? He never felt bad about any of the shit he did to her. 

And she especially doesn’t feel bad as she finds herself carving her name not only in his leather seats but the outside of the truck as well.

Naomi looks over at Dom who is now actually crying and laughs. “Look at it this way, Dom. We’re only doing this to your truck. Imagine what he’s going to do to you once he finds out what you did to his wife.” It brings her a great sense of satisfaction to see the terror in his eyes. 

It also makes her send out the brief video she recorded of Bayley and Solana beating the shit out of the truck with bats to her group chat with the men.

Naomi: Just doing hot girl shit. 💅🏿

Their replies start coming in only minutes later. 

Jimmy: Idk what’s going on, but I’m turned tf on. 

Jey: Why ya’ll females always go after our cars and shit? 

Roman: Why the fuck is it everytime you two take my wife out, it’s always some shit?

Roman: What the fuck is going on?

Naomi: Because you all asked so nicely 😐, turns out Solana used to date Dom back in the day.

Jimmy: Rey’s boy? The fuck? She too damn fine for that weasel. He could never handle all that ass.

Roman: One more time, Jimmy. Just one more time.

Jey: Naomi, please give us the rest of the story before Roman make your ass a widow.

Naomi: 🥴 Anyway, she told us some of the stuff he used to say to and about her, and honestly….even more trash than we thought.

Roman: Like?

Naomi: We promised Solana we wouldn’t say anything. Just know he was mean to her. So I guess she ran into him and he said some out of pocket shit, she got upset and PUNCHED him!!!!!!!

Jimmy: Soso HIT someone?!? 

Naomi: Sure did!

Jey: Damn! Our Soso growing up on us!

Roman: I wanna know what the fuck he said to her.

Naomi: Ask her when you get home. 🙄

Naomi: So we’re fucking up his truck while he watches helplessly. 😊

Roman: The dead don’t need cars anyway.

Roman’s chilly response is both given and, in her opinion, well overdue. She’s never heard anything nice or good about Mysterio’s boy, so she can only imagine the full extent of what he put Solana through. 

It’s why she’s mostly pleased by how Solana allows herself to let loose, to get her receipt. She deserves it.

As Solana and Bayley pour glitter in his gas tank, Naomi casually calls out, “what should we get to eat after this?”

________

“I committed assault and vandalism in one day. One.”

Roman smiles as he adjusts his tie, partially thankful his clearly distressed wife is unable to see his humored response to her frantic worrying. 

“That bitch got what he deserved, Solana.” Part of it. But, Solana doesn’t need to know Roman absolutely plans on making sure she never has to run into that alelo ever again. No one will. “You shouldn’t feel bad.”

She really shouldn’t, because he can only imagine what was said to her, the treatment she received from that piece of shit. None of which she deserved. All of which makes him want to say fuck the gala and get straight to torturing the fucker.

Through the mirror attached to his dresser, he watches the bathroom door open, Solana stepping out, a robe only partially covering the length of her red dress. Leaning against the door, she crosses her arms, clearly in her head over what he partially wishes he could have been present for.

He would have taken the metal bats to Dom himself versus the truck.

But, he’s also him, and she is her. 

Two very different people. 

Roman moves across the room, pulling her against him as her hands lay on his chest. “You really mean to tell me you didn’t feel the least bit good at fucking his shit up?”

And he sees it, the way she’s fighting back the agreement. He reminds, hands moving to undo her robe. “You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.” She seems to be mulling over his words as he pushes her robe off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. “Fuck….” She always looks good, but there’s something about seeing her in the red, the way the dress hugs her curves, taunting him, testing his resolve, that has them wanting to ditch the gala for an entirely different reason. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Her smile is bashful, but he’s pleased to see her not look away, to maintain eye contact as she murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’. She gasps a bit, informing, “Oh, I noticed earlier you were running low on your medicine, so I called it in and picked it up for you.”

That takes him off guard. It was on his to-do list. Somewhere on there, he’s certain. But for her to go out of her way to take care of it for him, it makes him feel something he can’t really explain. 

Solana’s smile dims a bit as she gently reminds, “you’ve gotta stay on top of that. It’s—it’s important, Roman.”

“Yeah…” It’s a response to her, but he’s still very much in his head over whatever this strange ass, yet somehow comforting feeling is. Fucking confusing ass shit. Clearing his throat, Roman forces himself to get his head back in the game. “Solana….” His tone is something different, something that makes her a bit nervous, that weighs down her previous smile even more.

She does her best not to reveal the alteration in her happiness level. But, she can just tell the mood is about to shift a bit. “Yes?”

To his credit, his hand moving in circles on the small of her back gives her a bit of comfort. Eases the weight of whatever he’s about to share. “Tonight..tonight I need to be on. Focused. The fucking annoying part about these things is that everyone’s there to see if they can seek out some type of soft point. Some kind of weakness.” 

This confuses her. Soft point? That’s not an issue for Roman, and she points out as such. “But, but you have no weaknesses.” 

Something flashes in his eyes and before she can say anything, not that she necessarily would, he’s back to explaining himself. “I don’t want you to think that I’m being cold with you. I’m not upset or avoiding you. I just—”

“You need to show them why you’re the Head of the Table.” His latter explanation provides the previously missing clarification. Reaching for his hand, she offers a gentle smile. “I understand.” 

“Do you?” For a second, it almost sounds like there’s a sense of urgency to his tone. Like he needs to know that she knows it’s nothing personal against her.

And it’s not really until this moment that Solana realizes there are two sides to Roman Reigns. The side that she sees, the almost gentle, caring side. The man who always goes out of his way to ensure her comfort and safety at all times. The man who’s changed her life in ways he’ll probably never be able to fully understand.

Then there’s the other side. The side that makes his name alone strikes fear in even the strongest of men. The most violent. The most diabolical. A god among men. 

Two completely different sides of the coin, but still a single coin.

This other side though, the side only she gets to see because it’s reserved for her. The side that might even be considered a form of vulnerability…..he only shows that with her, only shows it to her.

A….safe space, of sorts.

She is his safe space. 

This second, or maybe third, major realization of the day only makes that love aspect so much more confusing. Though it makes her heart swell to know she can provide that for him. That she can be that for him.

Pulling from floating thoughts, Solana brings herself back to the conversation at hand. “I do.” She offers an explanation of her own. “I know I asked if you’ll stay with me the whole night, but—but, I don’t think I need that.” And before he can protest, she gives the valid reasons why. “I didn’t know Bayley and Naomi would be there. I’m fine with them. I just—I didn’t want to be alone in a room full of people I don’t know.”

“I would never leave you alone.” He brings his hand to the back of her neck, informing in a low voice. “I might not interact with you much, but that doesn’t mean I’m not watching. 

“I know.” She cuts him off, again working to reassure him that he doesn’t need to be so focused on her. It’s clear there’s a task for the evening, a box that needs to be checked. And she doesn’t want to interfere in any sort of way. “I’ll be fine.” With a half smile, she reminds, “especially if there’s a bat nearby.”

A genuine smile grows on Roman’s face as he pulls her into him, Solana resting in his safe embrace. Being in his arms is starting to become one of her favorite things. “My fine ass, bat swinging wife.” She giggles against him as Roman drops his hand to her ass, giving a slap. 

“Let’s go.”

________

The minute the SUV door opens and Roman climbs out first only to offer his hand as Solana steps out behind him, her gaze taking in the beautiful mansion that looks like something out of a movie premiere, her anxiety starts to rise. Taking in the scene around her, she’s met with an actual red carpet leading up the steps to the mansion that has large, glass, double doors with swirled marble intricate designs that match the stone of the building. There’s a line of cars both behind and in front of their SUV, indicating guests are still arriving.

That makes her feel at least a little bit better.

She didn’t want to make Roman late. Even if something tells her he wouldn’t care one way or the other.

It’s not missed upon her how he gives her hand an almost gentle squeeze and rubs his thumb over her knuckles all the while keeping his gaze up and focused. She sees how his light eyes subtly survey the perimeter as he leads them up the steps. She stills when two large men dressed in black suits wearing earpieces, guards clearly, stop them with a raised hand.

“Please walk through—-”

“Do I look fucking stupid?” Roman’s question needs no answer as he motions for Solana to walk ahead of him through the metal detectors that separate attendees from entering. Slowly, with a bit of anxiety at somehow setting them off even though there’s no way for her to, she does so without incident. Roman does the same looking every bit annoyed as he feels, but it makes her feel a bit better when he takes hand in his again.

“No weapons allowed.” Is all he says. Calmly. Simply. Without anything else. She nods, figuring as such, but a brief sideways glance at her husband, and she wonders how beneficial that actually is when he, himself, is a walking weapon.

She’s more than certain he’s killed before with his bare hands. Not a weapon needed.

Solana takes in the setting before her. Circular tables litter the first and second levels of the beautiful building, intricate, opulent centerpieces decorating each table. A live band plays some unfamiliar song as guests mingle about, many of which are admiring the various art pieces that occupy almost all of the walls. The lights are dimmed and the smell of lavender and honey penetrates, creating an almost calming atmosphere that starkly contrasts the fact that almost everyone in eyesight is a part of the crime underworld. Trained, brutal killers. 

Including the man who continues to soothe his thumb across her knuckles. 

“Come on.”

Solana stays close besides Roman as he leads them through the sea of people. Many of which, men primarily, seem to settle their gaze on her, her chest, only to travel up to see the man beside her and smartly redirect their attention literally anywhere else.

In some sort of strange way, that brings a sense of comfort to her. To know that just his presence wards off any and all unwanted attention. Makes her feel safer.

Then again, she’s not sure if any environment exists where Roman doesn’t make her feel safe. 

She feels even better when she realizes where he’s led them. A table full of familiar, equally welcomed faces. 

Bayley is the first to greet her. She stands up from the table, and Solana is in awe of her teal dress that hugs every curve beautifully. “You look fuckin amazing.” She reaches over, pulling Solana away from Roman and into a hug. “Aren’t you glad you went with this one?” She gestures down to the dress.

Solana laughs and nods. “Yes. I am.”

Naomi and Jimmy are also standing now, forming an almost line to hug Solana. Naomi pulls her in even tighter. “How's the fist?”

Solana gasps as Naomi laughs only for Jimmy to crack his little joke. “I made sure ain’t no bats around just in case you get upset again, sis.” 

Allowing him to hug her, Solana rolls her eyes and murmurs, “that’s not happening ever again.”

“You might wanna watch your shit, Big Dog. Soso believe in breaking shit when she gets angry.”

Feeling a bit defenseless, she grasps at straws. “It was—it wasn’t like that.”

Jey scoffs, pointing out after downing some of his wine, “girl, we saw you on that video. You was swangin the hell out of that thing.”

Cheeks flushed, Solana sits down in the seat Roman has pulled out for her. Right next to him. Bayley on her other side. She looks over at Naomi. “I can’t believe you sent it to them.”

“Are you kidding? Our sweet little Solana beating the shit out of her ex’s car with a bat? That’s Kodak worthy.”

She rolls her eyes, eager to take the attention off herself as she notices Jey’s seat beside him is empty. “Is Nicki not coming?”

Naomi answers with a chuckle. “Girl, Nicki got banned years ago after she—”

Jey quickly jumps in, depriving Solana of a story she’s certain involved some type of altercation between him and his wife. Their marriage truly does not make any sense to her whatsoever. “Aye, we don’t need to rehash the past.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Naomi leans over and whispers, “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Solana hopes she follows through on that. Roman asks the twins something in Samona, the three of them starting a dialogue in a language only they can understand. And judging by the serious expressions on all of their faces, she surmises that it’s business related. 

Especially when Solo and Paul join the table. It’s almost like the ladies don’t exist after that, but it doesn’t bother Solana. It can’t when Roman already made it clear what tonight would be like.

It’s nothing personal. 

Just business. 

Bored and kind of eager to explore what seems like one of a kind masterpieces, she turns to Bayley and asks, “can we go look at the art?”

Bayley scoffs. “Hell yeah.” Standing up and adjusting her dress, she remarks, “it’s better than sitting here doing nothing.” Glancing at Naomi, she asks, “you wanna come with us?”

Naomi sucks her teeth. “Girl, you don’t even have to ask.” 

Solana smiles, grateful for their attendance and companionship. 

Roman’s deep voice cuts through with a simple two word command. “Watch her.”

She looks back at him, offering a small smile she hopes will settle any concern he may have about her. He doesn’t need to worry about that. Just needs to focus on himself. 

Linking arms with the other ladies, they move through the crowd, starting with the art near the entrance and making their way around. Solana seems to be the most intrigued by the pieces selected, trying to detect a theme in each one. Naomi and Bayley, however, seem to settle for a combination of roasting and admiring. More of the first than the latter. 

“Oh fuck, I was hoping they didn’t show up.” Solana is in the midst of deciphering a piece of abstract art when Bayley’s almost steel exclamation pulls her from her focus. 

Confused, she asks, “who?”

Naomi answers, subtly gesturing across the room. “Don’t stare. It’ll draw attention to us.”

Solana does her best, but it’s hard not to when she sees a set of new arrivals, most of which are absolute strangers, faces unseen prior to this very moment.

But one is not.

One is a face she saw, a person she spoke to, just days prior.

Brandi. 

She’s holding hands with a tall man, striking blue eyes Solana can see from nearly across the room, bleached blonde hair that somehow compliments his tanned skin. There’s a boyish look about him that Solana would guess is a facade, something that deceives people, cleverly hiding the fact that he’s just as much a killer as the guests around them. 

Before she can ask who he is though, Bayley offers introductions. “That is Cody Rhodes. And the pretty lady on his arm is his wife, Brandi.”

And just like that, Solana’s stomach drops. Her mouth feels dry. “Wife?” Solana looks back and forth between the couple. “Brandi is Cody’s wife?”

This just got a lot more confusing and complicated. The kind woman whose young daughter Solana ‘rescued’ is married to Roman’s greatest enemy? The man he hates most?

And suddenly Solana is thinking about her interaction with Solo after she mentioned Brandi’s name. 

He knew.

So, why didn’t he say anything to her?

Why didn’t he say anything to Roman?

________

Roman ignoring Solana for the majority of the night ends up being a lot easier than she anticipated. 

It’s quelled by the fact that she’s had one hell of a day, several major revelations clogging up her mental space. 

Remembering what Roman told her about his family.

Trying to figure out if she’s in love with Roman.

Trying to figure out if Roman could ever love her.

Accidentally helping out his sworn enemy’s wife.

Her personal guard being aware of this last piece of information yet saying nothing to her or her husband. 

Even though she’s sworn off alcohol after the last drunken disaster, there’s a burning temptation to walk over to the open bar and request something that can at least take the edge off. 

Something to help her clear her head.

It’s after dinner, and Roman, Paul, and the twins are moving around, briefly speaking with various guests. Roman and Paul, in particular, seem to keep the conversations perfunctory before moving onto the next one. Clearly checking off certain, necessary boxes.

Solana again is viewing artwork, doing whatever she can to distract herself when someone unexpected comes up to her.

“Hey.” She looks to her side to see no one other than Solo. He looks almost….nervous. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Does she want to talk to him at this current moment in time? Not really. But, something tells her she needs to. 

“Yes.”

Solo guides them to a corner that’s as close to secluded as they’re gonna get at the crowded event.

“Listen, I…..I wanted to apologize to you.”

Solana’s eyes widen. The surprises just keep coming. “Wh–what?”

“I know….I know I’ve been ass.” She wouldn’t necessarily use that word to describe his behavior and disposition, but it’s not exactly an inaccurate usage either. “It’s just….before you came around, I was just getting my chance to show Roman I deserve a seat at the table with him and my brothers. Then he assigns me to you, and I just feel like I’m not proving myself no more.”

Solana started to figure as such. Guessed that maybe he resented her to a certain extent because he’d essentially been assigned as her adult babysitter. That would probably annoy anyone.

“But, at the end of the day, Roman is the Tribal Chief. His word is final. I have to respect that.” He sighs, shrugging. “And as his wife, I gotta respect you too, which I ain’t been doing, so I apologize.”

Solana has never really been one to be on the receiving end of apologies from people. It’s still an uncomfortable experience as she murmurs an ‘it’s okay’ followed up with her question about his omission. “Why didn’t you tell me who Brandi was? Or tell Roman?”

He sighs loudly, voice lowering a bit as he explains his actions. “You’re new to the family, so you don’t know the history between Cody and Roman. Telling him would only kick off some shit. I figured if she came around again, then that I would tell you.” His explanation makes sense, Solana nodding slowly. He too doesn’t seem to want to upset Roman if possible. “I’m sorry for that too.”

She shakes her head. “No. I—I get it, and—I’m sorry, too, that you got stuck with me.” 

Solo smiles a bit. The first time she’s ever seen him do so. It feels…..odd. “You ain’t so bad.” He then asks, brow lifted a bit. “So, we cool?”

Solana swallows. What reason does she have for them not to be at this point? Everything he’s said makes perfect sense. “Of course.” Offering a small smile, she says sincerely, “thank you, Solo.” 

He nods, not saying anything else as he walks off.

Left alone, blowing out a big breath, she looks around. Solana spots the hall that leads to the ladies room. Making her way through the crowd, she walks in and goes into the first open stall. Relieving her bladder is an unexpected, small but significant enough type of relief. It feels similar to the peace she now has with the whole Solo situation. 

Solana walks over to the sink, pumping some soap into her hands, activating the motion sensor to shut on the water as she rinses, watching the suds empty down the drain. 

“Hey, sis.” 

Solana’s head snaps up the second she’s met with the voice she hasn’t heard in months. Her brown eyes, through the mirror, locking with an almost identical set of brown. The only difference being the glimpse of emotion that’s always been unfamiliar to her but a resident friend of his.

Hate.

Solana moves as quickly as she can, but it’s not fast enough, because he’s got a fist full of her hair. Wes yanks her head back and shoves her away, providing him the access he needs to bring his hand across her face, backhanding her so hard that it makes her double over in pain. 

Feeling an unfamiliar wetness, she feels her cheek, only to see blood on her fingertips. A glance at Wes' hand shows that the rings on his fingers must have cut her. 

But she can’t focus on that too long because his hand is wrapped around her neck as he thrusts her against the adjacent wall, searing pain shooting across her back at the violent impact.

She claws at his iron grip, his dark eyes narrowing against her. So much hate. “You dumb slut, did you really think you could hide forever?” Her eyes shut, her mind screaming Roman’s name in a way her mouth cannot. “Were you stupid enough to believe he could protect you from me?” Solana winces as he tightens his grip. “You’re a weak, stupid bitch and you always will be.”

Weak

Slut

Stupid

Dumb

Bitch

All words that she’s heard before. Cruel names she’s been called over the years in conjunction with beatings. Beatings like this that have left her bloody and broken. Feeling empty. Feeling like every hurtful thing she’s ever been called. Feeling that weak adjective that he’s always made her defining trait.

Solana closes her eyes and starts to retreat to that mental place of superficial security, bracing for what’s sure to be a beating like no other. She tries to return to that spot in her brain that’s accepted that this is her reality, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

The only problem is that that place doesn’t exist anymore.

She can’t find it.

She doesn’t feel weak or dumb or stupid. Doesn’t feel helpless and victim to his sadism.

Not even in this moment with his hand wrapped tightly around her throat. 

No….

She feels something else. 

Something much stronger, powerful, fueling.

Anger.

She’s pissed the fuck off.

It’s when she sees his other hand pull out a knife, that for a second, a brief moment, she hesitates. She hesitates, momentarily paralyzed by the fear and trauma that single item has brought her over the past twenty years. But, she closes her eyes and centers herself, tapping back into months of training, of sparring, of fighting.

Snarling almost, her rage and determination growing synchronously, Solana lifts up her leg with all the force she can muster, her knee coming into direct impact with Wes’s crotch area. Instantly, he releases her, dubbed over, groaning and cursing. Solana’s a bit lightheaded, but she powers through it, quickly grabbing the vase of flowers on the counter and swinging it with all her might over his head.

“Fuck!” He grunts, falling to the ground, his knife tumbling across the intricately designed tile flooring. 

Rushing to grab it, he does the same, but she manages to outpace him. Her speed gives her the upperhand. And with a cry of her own, she slams it down directly into the palm of his outreaching hand.

Wes howls in pain as she rips it out and kicks him in his side, watching as he tumbles onto his back. Solana slams her heel down on his other arm, pinning it and forcing the knife through his right hand this time. 

He cries out again and she backs away for a second, tempted to drive it through another part of him when he growls with all the rage and pain, “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bitch!”

His threat, unlike countless times before, doesn’t frighten her, doesn’t make her tremble and cower in fear. 

It just pisses her off even more.

“Come on.” Solana motions for him to come at her, for him to climb off the ground and fight her. “Come on!” Using the bloody knife, she takes and slices it across her dress, allowing her more freedom and fluidity with her movements. Kicking the material to the side, she crouches down, egging him on. “Hit me, you son of a bitch!”

Finally to his feet, Solana sees him ready to charge at her. Her eyes never leave him, studying every single movement of his bleeding body. And just when he’s about to slam into her, she jumps to the side, watching him slam into the wall. Solana doesn’t waste a single second as she rushes behind him, lifts her leg and kicks him in the head, intentionally trying to drive her heel into his neck. His shouts of pain further her drive as she drops her leg, snatches him by his hair and slams the knife down into his shoulder. 

She jumps back as his body plops to the ground again, Wes rolling over and writhing in pain, profusely bleeding from several parts of his body, black suit staining dark, bloody red. Solana moves toward him, utilizing every bit of strength coursing through her body as she lands brutal kick after kick into his side, intentionally aiming for his chest. A kick for every broken bone, every bruise, every cut, every burn, every time he waterboarded her to the point where she was unconscious. Every fucking thing. She only stops when she hears the satisfying crack of one or several of his ribs. 

But, it’s not enough. It’s not enough because all she can think about now is all the times he made her bleed, made her scream, made her flail with fear and terror. It’s his turn now. 

Kicking off her heels, she grabs him by the collar of his suit jacket. “Come here, you bastard.” He’s heavy, and it’s a strain to drag him, but she does just that, pulling him into one of the stalls. Solana shoves the back of his head into the toilet and holds him down face first into the water.

Wes flails against her, but her grip is just like her spirit. Strong and unrelenting.

“How does that feel?” She taunts, tears streaming down her face because as vindicating as this moment is, it still doesn’t strip away the pain of years of abuse and torture. Yanking his head back, pleased by the way he coughs violently, gasping for air, she continues to mock him with the same taunts he always threw her way. “Say something, bitch!” Solana slams his head back down into the water. Repeating the same act of torture he utilized on her for years. 

She does it until she feels her strength starting to wane, eventually releasing his clumped body down as she backs away, leaning against the counter. 

Chest moving up and down from her heavy breathing, exhaust settling in as adrenaline fades out, it’s only then she turns to look at her reflection in the mirror. Face reddened, hair disheveled, red dress stained with his blood splatter, a mixture of her blood from the cut that probably wont need anything more than a liquid bandaid, and tears running down her cheek, yet she’s never felt fucking better.

This….this is liberation.

It’s freedom from shackles of fear. 

Fear of the one person she never thought she wouldn’t be terrified of. And yet, that same source of so much heartache lies before her: bloody, bruised, broken. 

All because of her.

Commotion outside the door and banging against it alerts her to the fact that somebody has clearly caught onto her absence. Roman, most likely. 

Body suddenly very heavy, she moves over to the door, leaning back against it, eyes landing on Wes who’s coughing up blood. For a brief second, she feels a sliver of sadness, if guilt. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s knocked out the way, replaced with pride. Roman’s words from earlier in the night returning and cementing her satisfaction.

“You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.”

And fewer have been crueler than the man before her.

Voice and body trembling from the weight of it all, Solana affirms with all the emotion and sincerity through her body. “I am not scared of you anymore.” She turns the lock, stepping out of the way to avoid the avalanche of bodies about to enter. “And I never will be again.”

Sure enough, it sounds like a stampede. Solana closes her eyes, stealing a moment to rest and relish in her inner peace.

“Solana.”

His voice is urgent and pressured, and seconds later, he has her in his arms, holding her against him. She breathes in his scent, comforted by his arms around her.

“I’m fine.” She knows he needs to hear it, needs to hear the words come from her mouth. Even if she knows she probably looks anything but, clothes and body splashed with her brother’s blood. 

“Solo!” Roman’s voice is filled with unbridled rage that, any other time, she’d probably tremble at. But, in this moment, it’s valid as hell. And beyond that, she knows without a doubt now that he would never make her the object of his anger. “Pick him up!”

Solana sets her gaze on a barely conscious Wes as Solo drags him out of the stall. 

Jimmy and Jey being present, Roman’s fury, and Solo holding him in position are all the things that  alert her to what’s about to happen. 

Jimmy whistles, taking in Wes' battered appearance. “Damn, she beat the hell out of you!”

“No.” Solana says it too quietly, too softly. She has to place her hand on Roman’s chest to get his eyes back on her. “No.”

“I don’t want you to kill him.” And before Roman can protest, ask her if she’s lost her fucking mind, she steps toward Wes, explaining to all parties but directing her wishes to him. “I want him to live in fear….to know what that’s like.” Eyes burning with a fresh set of tears, she emphasizes. “It’s his turn to be scared.” Head tilted, scoffing a bit at how pathetic he looks, she mocks him one last time, “who’s the bitch now?”

Without even thinking about it, Solana lifts her hand and connects her fist directly with the side of his jaw, knocking him out cold. 

“Goddamn!” Jey shouts with all the amusement in the world as Roman pulls her back into him, lips pressed against her temple.

“I’m okay,” she reiterates, holding onto his sleeve. “I promise.” She is. Maybe better than she’s been in some time. 

Better than she’s ever been.

Roman steps back for a second and slides his jacket off, placing it around her. 

Solana reaches for his hand and gestures for the door. “Let’s go.” He still looks so angry, so furious, but she knows it’s not toward her. Nevertheless, he doesn’t need to stay in this headspace. Not with his high blood pressure. Not with his health at stake.

Roman says something to Solo in Samoan and begins to guide her out of the bathroom that’s been completely destroyed in the fight. A crowd of most of the guests has gathered around, clearly curious and wanting to know just what the hell happened. It’s fair and almost expected. 

But, despite looking like everything she’s just been through, Solana doesn’t shy away from the stares and whispers. Doesn’t necessarily care. Because as ironic as it is, this might be the most confident she’s ever felt in her life. 

But, it’s when she sees Cody and Brandi that Solana just knows something is about to go wrong.

Cody smirks, calling out loud enough for all to hear, Roman especially. “I guess women and children aren’t off limits after all.” 

There’s more to it. There has to be more to it, because the second Roman rips his hand away from Solana and charges at Rhodes seems to take even the instigator off guard. Instantly, Jimmy and Jey are rushing toward their cousin as he lands a blow against Rhodes that sends him flat on his ass. 

“Roman!” She calls out after him, moving in his direction, only to feel herself being restrained. She looks back and catches Bayley and Naomi looking with worried expressions. 

“We need to get out of here!” Naomi urges, but Solana can’t seem to look away from what’s turned into an all out brawl. Jimmy and Jey struggle to hold back their irate cousin as he spits venom against Rhodes who looks just as pissed off now, blood running from his nose.

“I’m the head of the table!” 

“I’ll whoop everybody’s ass around here!”

“This is my kingdom, you little bitch!”

“I can’t just leave him!” Solana pleads, trying to pull away from Bayley who clearly has no intentions on letting her go.

“He’ll be fine, Solana. But, he’s pissed the fuck off, and now Rhodes is pissed, and it’s about to be a shitshow that if he was thinking straight, he would never want you around.” Naomi explains and adds on, “the twins won’t let anything happen. I promise you that. Now let’s go.”

And despite everything in her screaming not to, to stay with him, to somehow find a way to help him calm down, there’s a logical part of her that knows the girls are right.

Even with him clearfly only seeing red as she continues to shout at Cody, the other man also being held back, barely, by his men. 

“There ain’t a man alive who can touch my button. If I had one, you wouldn’t be able to locate it. Can’t no man knock me out! I’m tired of being humble! I’m tired of letting people think they got a chance! The Tribal Chief is heads and shoulders above everybody! I run this all!”

Roman is almost a different person, so consumed by his rage, no doubt most of it because of Wes, Cody just being on the receiving end but not just taking it without responding with threats of his own.

“Time and place, you narcissistic son of a bitch!”

“Not everyone is fucking scared of you, Reigns!”

“I’ll fight you any fucking day!”

Solana’s eyes briefly lock with Brandi who’s also being rushed away, and she swears, she sees what looks like an almost sympathetic expression. Like if she could, she’d apologize.

It makes Solana frown.

Naomi pulls on her again. “Let’s go, Solana.” 

Security for the gala is now rushing over as some of Roman and Cody’s men are now throwing fists as well. Solana hates this. Hates how this has all played out. But, she also knows that she does nothing to help the situation by hanging around and risking getting hurt.

That’ll only upset Roman more. 

So even with a tremendous amount of apprehension, she allows them to guide her out, never once not thinking about the man she’s almost certain she more than cares about at this point. 

________

Solana is up and alert the minute she hears him enter their front door. In the living room, lying on the sofa, her go-to spot when waiting for his arrival, she partially expects him to walk in and meet her. The way he has several times before now, but this time is different.

Heavy footsteps don’t bring him to meet her. They instead carry him past the living room, through the kitchen, and outside the backdoor. 

Instantly, she’s sitting up. 

She goes to follow him when Jimmy and Jey enter the house looking every bit the night that they’ve all had. 

It’s a stupid question, and she knows as such, but she can’t help but ask. “How is he?”

Jimmy is the one to answer, blowing out a breath. “Honestly? Still pretty pissed but calm enough to come back home.” He then shares, “I tried to get him to sleep it off at my place, but he wanted to come back here.

Good. Solana doesn’t say it, but she sure is thinking it. Not even from the perspective of her being uncomfortable being in this big house all by herself with just Dulce. That’s maybe a part of it, sure. But, the biggest thing is that this is their home. And if he needs something, she wants to be there to help him with whatever that is.

“It’s okay. I can watch him.”

“Solana….” Jey cuts in, stuffing his hands in his suit pocket. “You know he would never hurt you, right? I know he was definitely on one tonight, but—”

Seeing where this is going, she cuts in, calm but firm. “I’m not scared of him. I—I know he would never hurt me.”

They seem to be pleased by her answer but still a bit hesitant, Jimmy offering, “if you want, I can stay over tonight. Make sure—”

“He’s my husband.” She swallows, nothing unwavering about her reiteration. “I’ve got him.”

Jimmy and Jey still look unsure but follow her wishes. Each giving her a hug before reiterating to call them if she needs anything. She’s thankful for their support but mostly their making sure Roman made it back home safely. 

Solana carries Dulce up to her shared room with Roman and closes the door to avoid any unnecessary interruptions. It’s only then she finally makes her way back downstairs, venturing through the living room and kitchen to the backdoor. Hand on the knob, Solana doesn’t hesitate to turn it, bringing her to the man she’s had on her mind nonstop the past few hours.

Roman’s hulking figure is plopped down on the edge of the patio chaise lounge. His button down shirt is discarded, his muscles stretching against the cotton of his white undershirt. Playing with the sides of one of his shirts she threw on after her shower, Solana sees there’s no need to announce her presence.

He’s already aware. 

With calmness that contrasts his demeanor just hours earlier, he advises, “you should be asleep.”

His voice is hoarse, heavy, weighed down with something he seems keen on internalizing. No matter how much it wrecks him on the inside. It brings a frown to her face and a pain to her chest. 

Swallowing, Solana moves closer to him, calmly countering, “you know I won’t sleep until I know you’re okay.”

“Okay….” Roman chuckles, and it’s almost bitter. An almost ironic tone as he repeats her chosen word. “Solana, nothing about tonight was okay.”

Her heart grows even heavier than it’s been following tonight’s events.

It tears Solana up to see him in this state. To see and almost feel his turmoil and not be able to do anything about it. Because he doesn’t want help. Because he’s so used to handling everything on his own, as he’s stated to her multiple times before.

But, that’s the thing. He’s not alone.

She just needs to get him to see and understand that. 

Setting aside any reservations and trepidation about her next steps, she closes the distance between them, kneeling down on the patio stone directly in front of him. Naturally, his eyes lock with hers, and for a second, she sees a tremble of his nearly impenetrable wall. “Roman….” One hand on his knee, the other reaching to grab his hand. “Please….please talk to me.” His eyes briefly dart away, a sign of her words doing something to his resolve. “Whatever….whatever happened tonight, let me help you work through it.”

He sets his focus back on her, the hand under hers lifting to cup her face, thumb ghosting over the cut she cleaned, tended, and sealed with a liquid band-aid. “You got hurt tonight….”

“I don’t care about that.” Her dismissal is aggressive but slides into something soothing almost as she reiterates. “I—I care about you.”

His jaw clenches. “I lost my temper tonight.”

“I don’t care about that either.” Again, she’s dismissive, pushing aside anything that could prevent him from hearing her right now. Really hearing her. “I wasn’t scared of you. I’m—I’m never scared of you, Roman.” Swallowing, she stands up and moves herself on his lap, relieved when he wraps his arms around her. “But…I was scared for you.” She pushes back some of his hair that came out of his always neat bun during the brawl. “I just….I wish you would talk to me.”

But, she also knows that she can’t force it. Can’t make him. Even though it physically aches her to know he’s dealing with so much and won’t let her help.

Won’t let her be there for him the same way he’s been there for her.

“Cody and I grew up together. We were….good friends.” Solana isn’t sure she’s still breathing as Roman begins to explain in a low voice, his hand moving soft circles against her side. She says and does nothing, not wanting to do anything to risk deterring him from this rare occurrence of vulnerability. “We…we bonded over being groomed to take over our families legacies. His…his father was good friends with mine.” 

Friends….

It feels almost impossible to imagine Roman and Cody as ever being anything more than sworn enemies. She’s not sure she’s even seen a deeper level of hatred than what she saw in their eyes tonight.

“It was my 10th birthday. We were gathered at the house to celebrate, and it was fine, until it wasn’t.” Roman grows quiet, as he clearly hesitates. She starts to tell him that he doesn’t have to, that she doesn’t want to trigger him. But, he continues. “I don’t remember everything. Just the sound of bullets, screams, and then heat from the fire that someone set.” Fire… Solana’s eyes naturally drop to his tatted arm, tribal ink covering burns he clearly received that night of pure hell. Eyes watering, she continues to listen to him relive what sounds like a night of horror. “I was the only one who survived. My parents, my aunt, uncle, and my seven brothers and sisters were all killed.”

 “Oh my god….” Her heart literally breaks in that moment, hearing him confirm what she’d remembered just earlier in the day but didn’t want to actually believe. It’s just too devastating. To lose his entire family in that manner, all while celebrating his birthday of all days….it seems inconceivable.

Solana isn’t sure she’s ever felt this much sympathy towards another human being. 

Roman’s voice, however, never wavers. She can see he’s doing his best to simply recall and not feel. “And it wasn’t until I was 14 that a mutual friend of ours at the time, Seth, let it slip while he was in one of his manic states, that I should talk to Cody about what really happened that night.” His voice takes on a darker, angrier tone, and she can feel him shift underneath her. “So, I did, and I found out….that his father was responsible for the hit. That he betrayed my father. And that Cody knew the whole fucking time.”

There’s understandable anger in his words. Anger at such cruel betrayal. “For four fucking years, he pretended to be my friend. Pretended like he didn’t fucking know that his father was the reason my family was all dead.” His voice dips into something low, something much darker. “I can’t tell you…much after that, because I was so angry that all I saw was my rage.”

Solana brings her hand to his chest, a comforting placement, though she’s not certain anything could comfort this level of trauma. 

His expression is blank as he shares coldly. “I killed them all. His parents. His siblings. Everyone. I left him the same way his father left me: alone.” He swallows thickly, still not looking at her. “I told you before, Solana. I’m not a good man.”

“That’s not true.” She finally speaks, voice hoarse,  eyes watering at the truth of it all. She had no idea he’d been through so much. Lost so much more. “I don’t think I’ve met a man better than you, Roman.”

She’s never met any man like Roman.

Moving her hands to cup his face, it settles her a bit that he’s finally looking at her again. Closed off and back to being unreadable, it’s still eye contact. And she’ll take it. She’ll take whatever she can get from him. “No one….no one can know what it’s like to lose like we’ve lost. I….I get you. And….and I think you get me too.” Sniffling, she shakes her head, never wanting to invalidate his experience. “And no, I know….I know it’s not the same, but what I do know is that I haven’t felt alone since…since being with you.” She hasn’t felt a lot of things since being with him. Hasn’t felt the same amount of depression and emptiness. Just happiness and joy. “And I don’t want you to feel alone either, because….because you have me, and….and I’m not going anywhere.” Her tone drops into a soft whisper. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Because I love you.

But, that can’t be stated. Not aloud. Not right now. Maybe not ever. It’s not what he needs. Because it’s for selfish reasons. Because it would make her feel better to verbalize what she’s finally realized what she’s been feeling towards him. What she feels for him.

Love

“Besides….” She offers a small smile, messing with his beard, knowing the weight of this conversation might be too much for him, offering him a bit of a detour. “Who else is gonna bail me out the next time I fuck up someone’s truck?”

He cracks a small smile, and it makes her heart swell. It’s the best thing she’s seen all day. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss.”

Relieved to hear a growing lightness in his voice, she buries her head in the crook of his neck, murmuring, “guess you’re rubbing off on me….”

Roman brings his hand to her hip, tugging her closer, kissing her temple. Lips pressed against her forehead, he murmurs. “I’m proud of you.” That means so much to her. His approval. “Cause while I hate to agree with my dumbass cousin, Jimmy was right. You whooped his ass.”

Solana can’t help it. She laughs into his chest, looking up while biting down on her bottom lip. Voice quiet, she expresses both a question and agreement. “I did, didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes but nods, bringing his hand to her cheek, thumb and index finger lightly cupping her chin. “Sure did, baby…“ He doesn’t say anything after that. He doesn’t need to. Neither does she. She just nestles closer to him as he stands up, still holding her, grip protective and firm. 

Like he has no intentions of letting go.

Solana prays he never does. 

Because while Roman Reigns is the last person she ever expected to end up with, to care for, to love…..that’s exactly what’s happened.  

That’s exactly who she’s with.

Exactly who she cares for.

And exactly who she loves.

________

Xavier stands in front of the hospital bed, a hospital bed he was still in days prior, where his son stood before him as they schemed together to create what he thought was a foolproof plan. It’s a plan, however, that didn’t go the way he intended.

Far from it.

Wesley was always supposed to attack Solana in the bathroom, was supposed to rough her up a bit to see if Reigns would come to her rescue, the prediction being he’d move to kill Wes but Solana would interfere, would stop him.

Because his stupid second born has always been a victim to her love mentality. Would be blinded by whatever fruitless hope she still has that some part of him or his son loves her. Because they’re family.

But, that didn’t happen.

His son attacked her, yes, but the bitch fought back.

And now he watches helplessly as a brutally beaten, stabbed Wesley is laid up in the ICU yet again, but this time in a coma. Limited brain activity. 

Prognosis….not well.

And it’s all because of her.

Xavier is a prideful man, but even he can admit he never saw this coming. Never anticipated Reigns would have the girl trained, never thought his weak ass daughter could be capable of something like this.

Capable of almost taking away his son. His heir. 

Xavier is seething and would shoot her dead right now if he could, but he has to be smart. Especially after tonight, which wasn’t an entire loss.

He snatches his phone, sending out a text. 

Xavier: I want that bitch DEAD.

Xavier: We’ll proceed with the plan.

Because while most will see Roman’s outburst as expected given Cody Rhodes was present and almost everyone knows the history there, Xavier knows better.

Xavier knows that Roman’s rage was primarily at the fact that Solana had been attacked, confirming what he suspected.

And he’ll give the bastard credit. From what he heard, Reigns did a great job masking his feelings for her, practically ignoring Solana the entire night. 

Never showing his hand.

But, he did.

He does care for her.

And just that thought brings a wicked smile to Xavier’s aged face. 

After all these years, the impossible has happened. 

Roman Reigns finally has a weakness.

________

translation: "i'd do anything for you."

[greynatomy]

lucy bronze social media au

face claim - taylor hill

finally finished this

———

liked by user1, user2 and 5,748 others

enews Longtime couple, Y/N Y/LN and Timothée Chalamet have reportedly split, sources say. The couple have been on the rocks for a while after a video of Timothée has been seen circulating the internet getting cozy with a mystery girl.

Read more with the link in our bio!

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user1 love doesn’t exist anymore

user2 bout time she left him

↳ user9 she was always way out of his league

user3 damn! timmy tim broke up with a whole supermodel for some rando

user4 bet he gon try running back to her in a week

march 17, 2020

liked by user1, user2 and 224,738 others

yourinstagram my favorite sidekick 💙

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user1 she said ‘forget about timmy here’s me and my dog’

user2 so beautiful!

user3 go out with me now that tims not in the picture

liked by user1, lucybronze and 746,804 others

yourinstagram beach bum 🌞

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user1 great view, but i prefer to look into your eyes

user2 u got a little sand on you

user3 where is this bikini from?!

june 25, 2020

liked by user1, user2 and 12,474 others

tmz Y/N Y/LN seen holding hands with a new partner just months after her breakup with longtime boyfriend- now ex - timothée chalamet, in manchester, united kingdom.

click the link in our bio to read more!

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user1 she’s back!

user2 she’s already with someone else? girl is going around

↳ user3 tim moved on while in a relationship bffr

↳ user4 it’s been six months that’s a long time

september 5, 2020

liked by user1, user2 and 5,637 others

enews Y/N Y/LN just deactivated her instagram account just before the new year starts!

click the link in our bio to read more!

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use3 what? no!

user4 good! she wasn’t good enough for timothee anyway!

↳ user5 girl bffr he cheated on her. good for her for leaving!

user6 hope she comes back soon!

december 31, 2020

liked by gigihadid, taylorswift and 10,748 others

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user1 IS THAT A RING?

user2 miss girl comes back from the dead and just drops a pic

enews Y/N Y/LN engaged? click our bio to find out more!

↳ user3 she’s not back more than 5 seconds and you already have an article up

↳ user4 fr give her a break

march 10, 2023

liked by alexiaputellas, leahwilliamsonn and 11,748 others

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user1 wait… are these wedding photos??

user2 did she get married?

user3 what’s with the no caption post again??

tmz click the link in our bio to find out more out more on this marriage

↳ user4 you and enews need to fuck off!

user5 what’s the barca and england team doing in the likes??

april 22, 2023

liked by lucybronze, gigihadid and 5,839,648 others

yourinstagram @/victoriasecret world tour is out now!

loved to be in wings again 👼

view all comments

lucybronze ❤️❤️❤️

↳ yourinstagram ❤️❤️❤️

gigihadid so glad to share the vs runway with you again!

↳ yourinstagram love ya gi!

user1 are we just gonna ignore her last two posts??

user2 acting like she didn’t break the internet

user3 what is lucy bronze doing here?

↳ user4 and most of the barca and england team liking??

may 15, 2023

liked by user1, user2 and 5,738 others

ynupdates yn seen at the barcelona women’s game with a friend!

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user3 has she been in barcelona this whole time??

↳ user4 is that why paps haven’t been able to find her?

user5 since when was she into sports?

user6 guys i’m at the same place as her right now and she’s in the friends and family section!!

↳ user7 OMGG WHO IS SHE THERE FOR

↳ user8 IS SHE A WAG? FOR WHOOOOO?????

liked by user1, user2 and 7,748 others

enews Y/N Y/LN spotted in public after 2 years since deactivating instagram. Since activating her account again, it has been scrubbed of all posts except some new ones which look to be about her wedding. Y/N Y/LN is a very taken woman ladies and gents.

Click the link in our bio to read more!

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user3 enews is already back on y/n’s tail

user4 she’s in barca’s friends and family section

↳ user5 how do you know

↳ user4 i’ve been to a couple games and that’s where it is

liked by user1, user2 and 5,445 others

ynupdates y/n posted and deleted this video from her insta stories. did she marry a woman? did she have a baby?

view all comments

user3 wouldn’t be surprising if she did. she’s been very open about being bi

↳ user4 didn’t she used to date hailee steinfeld

↳ user5 yeah but she said they were better as friends

user6 no longer supporting y/n

↳ user7 good riddance to you!

user8 if she did have a baby, she really is mother now

tmz can we use this photo?

↳ ynupdates no the fuck you can’t! leave mother alone!

liked by lucybronze, onabatlle and 10,638,637 others

yourinstagram made a little oopsie yesterday so… surprise 🤷🏻‍♀️ @/lucybronze

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lucybronze love my little family ❤️

↳ yourinstagram i love you 💕

keirawalsh just want to put it out there that i am the favorite aunt

↳ leahwilliamsonn you’re the godmother you don’t get to be the favorite aunt too

alexiaputellas amo a mi pequeña bebé

↳ yourinstagram te amo tia alexia - baby bronze ❤️

↳ user4 omg baby bronze ugh 😩

user1 AHHHH FINALLY

user2 she’s off the market

user3 mother is a MOTHER

1maryearps my favorite milf

[goodgirl4daddy4evr]

Hypnotized lesbian sucks Priest off before her wedding

Tw: religious abuse. Are you gay? Have you been told you're going to hell for being gay? Does that trigger you?

I was given this prompt by @kingofobsidian 🥵

I was getting ready for my big day. I wasn't sure it would ever come. Or include me in a dress, marrying another woman in a dress, in her family's church. Her parents took her to a very open and affirming church that my soon to be wife felt safe coming out in when she was a teenager and now felt joy to return to so we could celebrate our love. I hadn't been to church in a while but we'd been doing counseling with the priest in preparation for marriage. He was so nice, I really felt like I could be open with him about my fears and insecurities. It helped us talk about them as a couple. We each would have our own recordings to listen to about marriage and the commitment we were making. I would always zone out listening though so I'm not sure how helpful they really were. My finance felt the same.

I was in the recreational area bathroom when I asked my maid of honor and friends to give me some time alone to reflect. My strapless dress was not staying up over my titties that well, we had to use some tape and I was fiddling with it when I noticed it in the mirror again. I'm startled out my headspace of frustration at my chest's incompatibility with strapless tops when there's a knock at the bathroom door. "Hello, Becki? It's Father Tom. I just wanted to check in on you. May I come in?"

I look at myself in the mirror, my bleached blonde hair half up, and share a confused look with myself before turning towards the door. Father Tom looked like he always did, all in black with his white collar poking out. Now that I think about, I don't remember if he has to change too. He smiles and chuckles, looking at my chest.

"Oh Becki, your dress is a little lopsided."

"Ugh, is it really that noticeable?" I turn back to the mirror and inspect the dress while I notice my worried look. Father Tom comes up behind me and I don't notice he's reaching out to touch me until he is. I look up in the mirror to see him tower above me and his hands on my shoulders. His eyes are starting at my titties in the mirror.

As if his stares could cause it, the tape finally unstuck on one side and most of my left titty popped out.

"Oh my God!" I cover my nipple. I look at him. I turn around. "Oh my- my- ah I'm sorry Father! I'm sorry I just- I'm just sorry!"

His hands came to lay on my back now and he's smiling again. "Oh Becki, sweet girl, you have nothing to apologize for." He looks into my eyes very intensely while mine are searching his face for an answer as to why.

"Remember, Becki? Remember?"

And that's when I drop my hand. I do remember. I look into Father Tom's eyes. They look so deep.

"Don't you remember, Becki? From your recordings? You know what marriage between two women is about don't you? Don't you remember, Becki?"

"It's about serving cocks together. It's when lesbians become a package deal for superior men. Women can't satisfy each other's needs. Only cock can."

"Ohh yes, you do remember, Becki."

That's when I feel myself pushed to the floor on my knees looking up at the first man I would ever service. In my wedding dress. Waiting for him to marry me to another woman.

He's unbuckling his belt as he speaks. "Now Becki, this will be just your first taste of cock. You'll be coming back every week for your sacrament, Becki, I want you to remember." His thumb rubs on my lower lip. "Now Becki, remember those recordings? I want you to think back to what they said, Becki."

"Start slow first. Lick all up and down. The wetter the better. Suck on the head. Suck on the balls. Use your hands. Open your throat."

He pets my hair before taking out his cock. I can't believe it. It's so much bigger than I thought they could be! It's like big tits! Big cocks only exist in porn! But I have big tits. Oh my god, do regular men have big cocks?

"Becki, remember..."

Father Tom moves his cock closer to my face I can't stop staring at it, it's so beautiful and I want it in my mouth so bad. I wanna suck and slobber all over it and suck his cum out so he put it all over my tits. I bounce and grind as I move forward and grab the base of his cock to lick all over his cock and get him nice and wet for my mouth.

"Oh! Becki I'm so glad your training took. I'll have to talk to your new wife after I marry you. Make sure her training took as well. You're both so beautiful. Made for taking cock. To marry you both would be sin if I did not claim you for my own. You thoughtless women denying your purposes. You should be grateful that I've saved your souls. I'm going to bless you with my holy seed and you'll need to receive this sacrament daily."

I look up with my big eyes, "Thank you, Father." and I take him in my mouth. I suck on the tip of his cock with my hand rubbing the base. I swirl my tongue around his head, tracing the part right where the head meets the shaft. When he puts his hand on the back of my head I suck him deeper. And deeper. And then my hand doesn't fit. I bob my head sucking from as close to the base as I can get to the bottom on the head and up and down and up and down. And hold. And up and down and up and down and up down. And hold.

It's when I start to juggle his balls that he grabs my head with two hands and begins to thrust in earnest. I finally understand what facefucking is. He's just using my mouth. Using my mouth to cum. He thrusts and thrusts and slows down and rolls his hips and thrusts and thrusts. Both my titties have fallen out of my dress and drool is dripping onto them from my mouth. My eyes are starting to water and it's starting to hurt. I'm making all these noises choking on his cock, looking up at him. He's staring at me.

"Look at me, Becki, look at me. Look at the man that has saved you. You will be blessed! Ohhh I'm putting it on your tits! I'm putting it on your tits!"

He lets go and I cough and gasp and catch my breath and look at him as he rubs his cock and lines up his cock head in the middle of my cleavage.

"In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, take your daily blessing, and may it cleanse you."

He unloaded his milky gooey white cream all over my flushed red titties. Spurt after spurt came out, more than I thought was supposed to happen. After he finished milking his cock I held up my titties to show off to him and he put his cock between my titties and rubbed his cum around.

"Ohh Becki, my child, I'm so glad I saved your soul for the Kingdom of Heaven."

He takes a step back and pulls out his phone from his pocket. I'm a little dazed when I hear the camera sound.

He chuckles "Now we can clean you up for your bride. Let's fix that dress."

[undyslady]

Behind The Wall

Undertaker (Black Butler) x reader

It was the calmest it had been for weeks, since the case of Jack the Ripper was solved by the child Earl, less "guests" had entered the doors of the parlour owned by your beloved.

Over the last couple of days, where you had more free time than you wished, you had noticed the state of the parlour. Spider webs, dust on every single surface and you could swear you saw a cockroach speed across the room once.

After a very long scolding to your beloved about the hygiene of the place to which you got a laugh in return.

"Oh my dearie~, you certainly were hilarious with your expression just now!" he had stated, a manicured index finger resting in between your furrowed eyebrows, presing on them signaling you to relax them.

You had scoffed and rolled your eyes, calling him a "bastard.." which you knew he heard by his small snicker and went to gather cleaning supplies.

"If he will do nothing then I will..." not that you expected him to do anything, no man would lift a finger to do such "women assigned jobs" like cleaning.

For the next 3 days, you spent your day cleaning, still finding the energy to throw insults at Undertaker about his lack of care about the place while huffing and puffing due to exhaustion.

You left no place untouched, nothing unturned and you got a pat on your shoulder for each room cleaned, it wasn't you patting yourself in the back, it was your lover.

He'd bother you in the middle of the cleaning, of course he would. To stupid questions :

"Do you think this little guest of ours looks better in red or green, my dear ?"

And to lingering touches:

"Well we haven't spend too much time together lately~~ " he'd chuckle , "I'm only a man, I need my lover's affections!!"

All of which, were ignored by you ,of course.

Cleaning had revealed spaces in the parlour you never knew existed, that might be the explanation why you found yourself pushing against a wall.

You had noticed a crack, one that seemed perfectly sculptured.

Your curiosity growing, you had been pushing at it, convinced your eccentric lover had a secret room, probably full of dead bodies, you had thought in joke.

As a joke, of course!

Yet when you gave it one final push, the wall moved and you almost fell to your knees.

Entering the dark place, desperately trying to find a lamp to light, you brushed past a coffin , accidentally making it fall over, causing a noise you were sure, your beloved would hear.

Cursing , you reached further to find a lamp and light it. Once the room was in view you squinted your eyes and looked around.

A small gasp left your mouth and somewhat dissapointed you looked at multiple closed coffins , alongside the one you knocked over.

"Well, not so entertaining now, are we?" you chuckled, expecting something more eye catching from your lover.

You strolled around the room, looking over the coffins, they all seemed the same aside from the one you dropped.

That specific one was blue, with black tape around it, which proved useless since it ripped by the fall, you made a note to tell Undertaker later.

While examining the coffins in front of you, you heard noises behind you which you ignored and called out

"I didn't know you'd hide this from me, what else could you be hiding, love ?"

However, when you didn't receive a reply you turned around to find a small child, rising from the coffin, teal hair and a rather rich outfit.

Upon turning around to face you, you could clearly make out the great resemblance he had to the Phantomhive child.

"My Lord-" you were cut off as he lunged at you, ripping a scream out of your chest as you stumbled back, falling on your bum.

Waiting for an attack, only silence engulfed your trembling figure, until it was broken by a familiar snicker.

"Hehehe~, your screams are ever so pleasant to hear, I do find myself glad at your clumsiness, if not for the coffin dropping, you'd be done for!! " and in all of his glory, there stood Undertaker, looking down at you, his hand gripping the Earls head with too much force, you'd deducted.

"You becoming one of my dolls...." he paused to think " I cant say that will please me, I do adore you as you are, even with your temper, dearie"

"What are you-....what is this??" You took a deep breath "What is the Earl doing, is that even him? This is not normal human behaviour??" Your voice rose with each question.

" Ah my dear, this is just a hobby of mine, and this.." he pushed the "Earl" towards you " is the Earl....oh! But not the Earl you know , my dear, I'm sure he's being the same temperamental child he is as we speak." a manic smile in his face. Not that you minded those, they were quite...pleasant to you usually but the situation did not encourage such feelings at the moment.

"Undertaker.....what is this ? Why is he like this and what is he doing here ?" You exhaled shakily, unable to process anything.

"Ahhh, as I said, a little hobby of mine, let me introduce you two" he grinned, dragging the boy by his hair and stuffing him in the coffin and closing it.

" You see, my dear...this is the Earls twin. The one that died years ago, but as you probably are thinking, he doesnt seem quite dead, does he ?" He approached you, in return you moved away. An action so simple, but you needed not see his eyes to know that he was frowning.

He cleared his throat and continued " I simply...experimented on him! I could not bear to loose another Phantomhive" he giggled, crossing his arms.

Making his way towards you, he grabbed your chin and looked at you "I do doubt, however that I would have started this hobby of mine if I had met you earlier" he tilted his head, grabbing you by the arm and hoisting you up.

His arm snaked around your waist as he held you tightly against him, his other hand grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and turning your head to the other coffins.

" In all of these coffins, there is a dead body that you, my dear have probably seen come in as one of our guests" he stated, "it was quite helpful that most of these people were not cared for enough to have funeral, it made my job easier" he chuckled lightly, his thumb caressing your cheek.

"A man must have hobbies, right ?" He brought your face up as he glanced at you, his emerald eyes piercing through your soul.

"You're sick..." you whispered at him, tears swelling in your eyes.

He was a lie. The idea of him was a lie. Everything you loved about this man was a lie.

How could he ?

"Oh my dearest love, I knew you'd act this way, but fret not, I'm sure you'll come around." He said quietly "you love me too much dont you ? You must accept me the way I am , just as I have accepted you despite your mortality"

Mortality? What sick shit is he thinking ?

"Wha-" your cheeks were squished together harder.

"AH ah! No more questions until your mind opens to my little...hobby! " he exclaimed, giggling at your face.

You did not want this.

You wished this was a dream

No.

A nightmare.

Wake up, you told yourself.

Please...wake up.

If only you didn't let your curiousty win. If you had just cleaned what you could and went on about your day, you would've been content loving a liar.

"Curiosity killed the cat, dearie~" he snickered " and this time, satisfaction did not bring it back~"

You could not think straight, everything you felt for, believed and lived for, shattered by the mere revelation of the activities that happened in the same roof you lived and worked. You did not know the man you shared your home with, the one you shared the last couple of years with yet you knew him enough, you knew the part of him that was calculating , he would have never let the crack on the wall be that visible.

No.

He was too good for that, he intended for you to find this room and he let you find it with a sick grin.

He knew he'd shatter you, and he decided to shatter you despite the smiles you gave him this morning, but fret not, he'll be there to bring those smiles back again, he'll make sure of it.

[oh-saints]

I found your page a couple of days ago and i love all your stories. I hope you won't be overwhelmed with the amount of Rúben dias requests you're about to receive from me 😂I would like to request something with ruben like oc is heavily pregnant and craving something weird (whatever weird this that comes into your mind lol) and he is laughing and teasing her about it lol, and oc us having non of it. Make it fluffy please 🥺

Thank you so much in advance

cravings

craving during pregnancy is something we all are aware of, rúben even looks forward to it from the moment you broke down the news you were expecting. but what if you ask for something he doesn’t even know it exists?

rúben dias x you part of dad!rúben collection

wc: 2k

note: something that’s been sitting way too long in the vault because of the research I had to do about this but only now finished bcs I had spurts of inspiration suddenly so surprise, surprise it’s a double update! LOLOL but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet!

“gatinha,”

at your whisper, rúben stirred from his sleep. his eyes immediately spotted the clock on the bedside table. the numbers drawn 3:00 in the big, fat analogue font across the screen.

“uh, what is it?” being the alert husband he was, he turned around to face you in no time. “is there something you need?

you were already seated on the edge of the bed, meaning you had just finished from your early morning toilet trip. ever since you became pregnant, the little trip was a new routine for you—and maybe the majority of other pregnant women in general, and everyone around him who had become fathers before him had warned the footballer to watch where the mother was going.

that, and the last thing he needed was for you to slip somewhere when he wasn’t watching, when he couldn’t be any help for you. rúben and you had been waiting for your very own rainbow baby for years, so when you were granted one, it was within his most important priority list to make sure both you and the child—whose gender was still unknown yet; not even born yet and they already resembled your shy nature—happy and safe.

“are you okay?”

you didn’t hide your fascination towards the man in front of you, hair disheveled and eyes blurry with drowsiness. 5 years of marriage and you still found him endearing, even more so when he was now turning protective and alert all the time, borderline the leader of a pack with the appearance similar to a mother hen.

“i am, don’t you worry,” you said, your hands stroking the side of his face, feeling the little hairs growing to become stubbles in near future. “but i’m starving.”

ah… the infamous early morning craving.

you had never personally asked of anything alike before, contrary to what everybody else had been advising rúben that there would be a time where you would be craving something eventually in a very ridiculous time of a morning. four months in, and you were yet to show any signs of it so rúben naturally thought you were going to be an exception case. but look where they were now.

with a smile so apologetic for having to wake him up like that, rúben melted into the warmth your smile exuded. “of course, meu anjo. should i get my keys?”

rúben might be many things but you didn’t believe one chance that he was a psychic. “do you even know what i want to eat?”

“uh, mcdonalds?”

in any other time, you would’ve laughed at his meek attempt to guess your mind. given t was early in the morning, mcdonalds was supposedly a reasonable choice since it was open 24/7.

but you did not, in under any circumstances, want to touch your feet nearby that chain of foul fast food. besides, you were pregnant. didn’t your husband consider that the unhealthy intake of food would do no good for their baby?

rúben must’ve noticed the change in your demeanour. “did i say something wrong, my love?”

“yes, don’t assume anything you don’t know of.”

ah… this one rúben was familiar, the rapid change of your mood he had his money run for the fastest rollercoaster on earth, so he apologised instantly and asked you again what you wanted.

“remember the time when we travelled to asia?”

“you mean, our honeymoon?”

oh, you were so not having your husband being mr. i-know-it-all. “one more of that and i’m walking out.”

the threat was enough to make rúben circle around the bed before kneeling down in front of your frowning figure. not because he was a loser, but because he knew you might actually do it. you had a capability to do it, you always do, which was why he was drawn to you in the first place.

but he didn’t want a runaway wife, pregnant on top of that, so he quickly apologized again. “what about it, baby?”

“i want durian.” ＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

what on earth is durian?

rúben sighed as he stared at his phone, the screen frozen helplessly for how many tabs he’d opened up in the browser. he rubbed his face rather roughly, due to the frustration, as he sat on the cover of the toilet and pondered his life choices and its respective life expectancies.

no one—literally no one—had warned him about the effect of any slip of tongue around a pregnant woman.

you were the calmest person he’d ever met, never wanting to bite off someone else’s head because it drained your precious energy. which rúben agreed to, and had been a devoted student of yours in terms of anger management on and off the field. but it was getting very hard to keep his own composure intact when you even lost yours.

ironically, rúben realised that one of you should still stay sane for the sake of everyone in this household, now inclusive of the unborn baby and it didn’t look like it was going to be you anytime soon.

so realistically, he couldn’t say to you that he didn’t remember a thing—not even an ounce of it—that you both had seen the fruit in question during your honeymoon. according to you, though, you both were even mesmerized by the look but decided that the possibility of dying because of the foul smell was larger than the delicious taste. as a result, when was the best time to try the exotic fruit than now, at 3.30 AM, when you were nearing the fifth month of pregnancy?

thus, his final resort to the internet, hoping for a miracle in the amount close to how much he needed to create the apple of his eyes with you.

but of course, the search engine didn’t show anything that could help him save his own lifeline this early morning from a pregnant wife that was so ready to stab the knife to his chest. the best option rúben got was to visit chinatown and head to the fruit market.

with a particular note from a lovely reviewer that the fruit was subject to a particular season—durian season, as the asians called it. if you were to seek for the spiky fruit beyond the particular calendar, then you either (i) got one that tasted as foul as it smells, or (ii) came home empty handed.

but of course, you wouldn’t get it, would you? rúben had already had it in his head you were going to wail at how incredulous his justifications are—what the hell is a durian season? we have spring, summer, autumn and winter and not durian! he could imagine—and would accuse him of trying to get his way out of the hard labour of satisfying you craving. worse, you’d scream out rúben should be responsible for this because he was the one who knocked you up and not vice versa.

other times, the footballer would just laugh it off. even at first, he did so and thought you were the cutest thing in his life, an actual living plushie. now, he just didn’t know what to do…

“what takes you so long?”

rúben jumped slightly at the question thrown at him from behind the door, the only thing separating him and his thoughts with the rest of the world and their expectation towards him. “nothing, meu anjo. i’ll be out in a minute.”

“good, because we gotta go. i’m sleepy already but the baby needs to eat.”

the husband closed his eyes once more, regulated his breathing, visualizing the flow of his breath before letting them out slowly—just the way you taught him how—before coming out of the loo. “baby, can i ask you one thing?”

you looked up, and rúben felt bad because you were already dressed and ready to go out and fight the coldness of an early morning. “what is it?”

“what if we go and have the durian in the morning?”

“rúben, it’s already morning now,” you clicked your tongue impatiently. “what are you saying?”

“i have a place to go already but they’re only open later at 8.”

and pregnant silence fell upon them, no puns intended.

“why at 8?”

“because that’s when the market opens,” rúben sat again in front of you, his hands were rubbing the back of your hand and on top of your knees respectfully. “i’m afraid we’ll have to go to chinatown to get them and it’s only open then.”

rúben was so ready with your fit, so he was rather surprised to hear you answer, “okay.”

okay?

okay?!

okay!

good god, the mood swing had returned it honestly felt like rúben had just jumped off the cliff with bungee jumping.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben was the one not okay that morning.

you turned out to opt out sleeping that night, despite being cuddled by your husband—which was your favourite way to go to sleep, even faring better than being lullabied—but rúben forgot you were living your life for two people for these nine months, so you still had a bar of energy and excitement while he had to drag his feet to the en suite bathroom.

you were literally counting in seconds as to when you’d get to the chinatown. your legs were involuntarily shaking from excitement, while he’d become more sensitive due to the lack of sleep (per his standard). as soon as the car stopped at the parking lot, you ran to the nearest entrance and lost yourself in quest to find the fruit. it wasn’t even 8 AM yet.

rúben had to call and asked you to share your live location, in case you were lost. but you were already moving in a pace so different than those mothers he’d gotten to know lately due to the parenting class, there was no way he could catch up.

“where are you?” as soon as his phone rang, he picked up, panting from the endless count of steps inside a huge market. “i cannot find you.”

coincidentally, you happened to call rúben in order to tell him that you were going to line in a queue to a small shop selling imported exotic fruits. the small hadn’t been open, yet there was already a waiting list, and in your dictionary of words it should only mean that the said shop was relevant to be called the local’s favourite.

“there you are,” rúben was about to comment

like a lucky charm, they were called in to make their purchase not long after.

you had your eyes already set on durian, so when the uncle asked if you wanted to eat at that place or bring home a peeled one, you didn’t hesitate to have them immediately. besides, you didn’t know how to split durian into two and whatnot.

“oh my god, so damn good!” you didn’t waste a minute to dance your little moves that you made to indicate you’re happy at that moment. “i can eat this every day for the rest of my life!”

good god, please help me.

“you should try, baby!” you were so excited to share your happiness with your husband, one hand holding a tiny bit of yellow and ready to be shoved into rúben’s mouth. who could deny such endearing request? “you’ve never had one before!”

and that was also the last time rúben had a bite of that yellow, mushy inside of durian. apart from the smell, he decided he didn’t like the texture and the bitter aftertaste.

but that was him. you, on the other hand, were munching the fruit as if it was going to be your last time seeing that scarce fruit. it appalled rúben too even at the length and amount you could eat in one seating. and looking at that, seeing you were this elated, it also made him full—in every sense of the word, literally and figuratively.

when you were done with the last chunk, you grinned at him, rather sheepishly. maybe you were drunk from the fruit, maybe you were shy because you just let out one hell of an appetite. “thank you for coming here with me.”

“anytime, my love, but we’re not doing this again. okay, meu anjo?” rúben wiped your fingers one by one from the sticky texture, internally wincing at the stinky smell. “promise me that.”

“sim, meu amor.”

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[vidavalor]

2.06 is emotionally brutal so I'm really appreciative of that hilarious scene in which two, young women who are confused as to whether or not they're dating one another (Maggie: We're a couple now! Nina: I need therapy first!) come over unannounced to tell an immortal Cupid who has been boffing Maggie's adopted godfather since ancient Rome that they are relationship experts, feel they know everything about love and his relationship, and have decided that he should confess to Aziraphale that he has feelings for him.

Christ on a bike, Maggie... you were sobbing three days ago over having zero game and now you're here to look the demon who got you a full partial-vavoom with a 36 hour turn around deadass in the sunglasses and tell him you're Dr. Ruth and he should do what you and Nina suggest? 🤣🤣🤣

Then, Nina pivots to the totally justified argument of why Crowley & Aziraphale should stay out of their love lives (very fair but her argument would have more weight if she and Maggie weren't here butting into theirs in this scene). It isn't long then before Maggie is nodding in smug agreement as Nina starts throwing fanfic cliches at poor Crowley, who strains an eyebrow wtf-ing at this conversation.

YOU'RE SUNSHINE AND THE GRUMPY ONE, RIGHT? RIGHT???!!!

Nina doesn't get that they are both both of those things. They both have trust issues for days and they both still believe in magic. Assuming that Crowley isn't soft sometimes or that Aziraphale isn't at all hard-bitten in many ways is to not actually know these characters, which is what I think the scene is saying. I think this scene exists mainly to confuse some of the audience members into thinking that Crowley's proposal is a confession as a way of misleading some into thinking 2.06 is their first kiss but it's really, really funny and probably just going to get funnier after S3. Maggie and Nina should be forgiven, though. After all, we know better. We've seen the 2008 minisode and the 1.03 Cold Open-- they haven't. 😉

[doesthendnlive]

I'm so tired. Sorry for bad grammar or mistakes.

TW for rape/pedophilia/slavery/domestic violence/violence against Indigenous women and girls specifically

It makes me so angry we Sacagawea and "Pocahontas" are known our figure head Native "Women". If you want to go a litter further the fact that "La Malinche" is idolized as well in the same way. But we don't learn about their actual lives.

Why are public schools obessed with these pedophilic relationships between Native girls and old gross ass white males as "The country coming together" or a "unity between 'Indians' and whites'" or "the creation of our mestizo race" or whatever else.

Sacagewa was only 12 when her "husband" bought her, and 16 when he impregnated her. I didn't learn this until I looked it up and searched for it myself.

"Charbonneau was also known for his short temper with his wives. On August 14, 1805, Charbonneau struck Sacagawea during a domestic argument, and was told to stop by Clark. This one incident has led to Charbonneau's reputation as a "wife beater," although it was the only time during the expedition that this type of behavior was noted. Coupled with the rape incident described above, however, Charbonneau seems to have been a sometimes violent person with little regard for women Native girls . His consistent record of marrying Native girls under age 16 also makes one wonder about a possible need to exhibit power over women Native girls

Charbonneau is known to have had a total of five wives, all young Native American women girls whom he married when they were sixteen years old or younger. He may have had more wives who have been lost to the record, however. His last known wife, an Assiniboine girl, was 14 when she married him in 1837; he was more than 70 years old."

Matoaka was even younger if I remember right, the bastardization of her real life story and the fetishization of her story and Native women and girls beause apparently we're all from her people. The fact the "Pocahontas" even exists, the disregard for her actual story and scraping details out to make it more palatable.

Despite the fact the she didn't get to have palatable, she had to endure violence, forced removal, rape, and forced impregnation by her rapist(s). She didn't get to have that comfort or safety but everyone else gets to when 'learning' about her.

"La Malinche" or "Malintzin" (we literally don't know her birth name) was around 11-16 years of age when she ended up on the hands of Spaniards

What makes it worse in regards of "Malintzin" is that Hispanic Males fetishize the "Mestizo race" and the rape of Indigenous women and girls especially to create this race.

They only claim their Indigenous decent when it benefits them, while they are still actively anti Indigenous themselves and hate actual indigenous peoples/communities.

Argentina specifically, it's called chineo, criollo males are known for targeting Indigenous women and girls to rape/gangrape them. It's a old colonial practice that still happens to this day.

Im just so angry that our figure Indigenous "women" are just these little girls adultified into these grown women just to make people less uncomfortable with the power dynamic imbalance and pedophilic relationships and colonialism and colonization in general

Racist white males (Spanish, English, French, whatever flavour of white idc) love this idea of conquering Indigenous women and raping them. I heard way too many gross comments from old white males with rapey undertones to them about them being white and me being a Indigenous girl.

Or even them mocking the sexual violence we face, one of my ex white male friends mocked me for being abused when we got into a argument not related to it at all he also was more and more racist to me as time went on.

In both of the Americas Indigenous people, but especially Indigenous Women and girls aren't safe. It's scary how much violence is forced onto us and how these figure head "Women" are watered down into comfortability for the general public.

The violence we face is pretty much the same in the Americas, and its scary to know we are stuck in places that hate us despite being on our lands in the first place.

all of this but THIS PART ESPECIALLY:

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Respectfully requesting an Aegon fic ♡

A couple weeks ago we were having a conversation about chubby Aegon and I threw this idea at you -

I'd love to read a story where reader is short and super slender, and people have told her that it's unattractive for a lady, that she needs to get thicker to be able to bear children for the king. And when chubby King Aegon sees her for the first time he's like "she's too sweet and precious, I want her as my queen".

Would you be willing to write something like that? Love you ♡

Existence of a Woman.

PAIRING: Chubby!King!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,156.

WARNINGS: bullying, mentions of low self-esteem, misogyny, fatphobic comments/references, body contrast/size kink if you squint.

A/N - EZ I love our little convos, seriously you have no idea how happy you make me 🤍 this was an absolute pleasure to write xoxox hope you love it! and same to nonnie, I’ve just meshed the two incredible ideas together!!!

It was sheer anguish, having constantly been surrounded by the disheartening commentary regarding your own body. A body you were born and had grown into with much appreciation everyday for your vital health. A body that had no lesser value than the bodies of other ladies and women alike, and yet, yours was frowned upon relentlessly.

You may not have naturally had the adequate width of child bearing hips, nor the lustrous curves in all the right regions. Your breasts may not have been voluptuous enough, that your mother often worried if you would even be able to produce the Mother’s milk to provide for your own babe.

To make matters even more frustrating, you were in constant comparison and competition with your elder sisters. Their bodies, their curves, their bosom, in contrary to your own, had been approved since their maidenhood had struck. Praised by your own mother, your sisters were ignorant to the constant scrutiny you had endured for so long.

Bickering words from the ladies of the court, from your very own kin, were ruthless enough for bloodshed.

“You are far too slender my dear, and far too small to bear a child to full term. Eat, my dear. Are you certain you eat?”

“You must look promising for your husband, dearest. Or else he may have no desire nor purpose for you much longer… Women like yourself are often tossed aside, becoming a burden to their families.”

“The Gods have blessed your sisters with such elegance and beauty… Mayhaps, your spurt is somewhat delayed. Continue to do your prayers, and the Gods may be merciful.”

It was the endless scrutiny that made it unbearable to exist. You had tried many times to grow oblivious to such comments, yet counting your long, dull days, the voices grew louder and louder, more prominent as you reached a mature age to marry.

“Just as your sisters are, we plan to have you wed before the Winter. Although, be warned your sisters being older will come to priority first. Mayhaps we might be able to spare one year for you to, uh, ripen.”

Nonetheless, when your family had unexpectedly been bestowed a welcoming invitation to King’s Landing to attend a royal celebratory feast in honour of the name-day of their elder, royal son, Prince Aegon the Second, your family humbly yet more so keenly accepted. In a matter of days, your entourage assembled and necessities readied, you were on your way to the city: although this being your second trip, you could barely string a memory to thought, as you were only just a child the first time around.

Now a young woman of age twenty-and-one, despite your sister's enthusiasm, you shared no high hopes of scoring a marriage with any decent man willing to look your way. Far more keen to sight-see the city in all its glory, and with a memory you could reminisce...

"Your Grace, it was an absolute honour receiving your invitation for tis evening's feast. I do hope our Prince has been enjoying himself-"

As your father lavished King Viserys with excessive compliments and many thanks, you could not help but eye each respective Targaryen sat atop the high table. The Dowager Queen, earnestly holding her sickly husband's hand in support, as she bobbed her head in acceptance to your father's words, further down the line, Princess Heleana oblivious to the crowd before her, too enamoured by some black stone or item in her hand, whilst Prince Aemond sat beside her vividly scanning the entire room, looking beyond the foot of the table where you stood. Prince Daeron's seat, you had assumed, empty, the youngest Prince mayhaps amidst the crowds, seeking entertainment and company. Although, it was Aegon who had ultimately caught your attention...

He was no doubt different to Prince Aemond, much larger and plumpier in size, nonetheless, still handsome [he was after all, a Targaryen]. Unlike his younger, menacing looking brother, whose jawline was distinguishable, face chiselled and figure slim and poised: Aegon's features were disguised with a softness, his jaw hidden beneath a subtle layer of fat, his cheeks reddened and full, it did not help that his mouth was constantly occupied with food and wine, as he gorged and guzzled the delicacies before him. As he sat back momentarily, wiping the food residue of his soft-looking lips, a portly belly that appeared rather tight against the restrictive fabric, bloated mayhaps, as the Prince tried to stifle a burp. An electrifying twitch twinged between your inner thighs, as Prince Aegon tenderly patted his distended gut, almost in a prideful manner.

"Aegon, dearest, show your guests the same regard and thank them for making the long trek," Alicent sternly indulged, as she persistently called for her eldest son. Aegon, although reluctantly, devoured his last bite, before heaving himself up with blatant difficulty, walked towards your centre.

"This is Aya, my eldest beauty and very diligent.. This is Sarra, she's got a rather wonderful melody, and isn't she just a sight for sore eyes? And this is Laila, quick witted, she'll keep you on your toes although a belle of the ball. Might I add, all unwedded! Pray the Gods be good, they grace our daughters with a potential hand..."

"And who are you?" Aegon abruptly interrupted, as your mother halted in her speech: her blatantly pathetic attempt to sell her daughter's hands. And although she did not acknowledge you, this had not been the first incident... You had grown accustomed to being invisible. Her cold words burnt into your mind;

"Standing beside your sisters, you might as well not be there... You must understand, dearest, your time will come. Just not now."

A faint, exacerbated breath escaped your lips, as your mouth hung loosely agape. Uncertain if the young Prince was glaring solely at you.

"Uh- th-this one? My youngest... Your Grace."

"Yes, the one who's existence you so obviously ignored," Aegon firmly proclaimed, earning a low, taunting chuckle from his younger brother [who continued ogling the crowd onwards], even drawing Helaena's attention unto him. However, his mother, Queen Alicent, rolled her eyes in defeat, whispering Aegon's name faintly towards him, almost in encouragement for him to settle.

"Apologies your Grace, our youngest is rather quiet and shy, although-" Your mother began to resist speaking, thickly swallowing her words in silence. Her cheeks instinctively flashed red, in exchange to the puzzling, glaring eyes of the royals, bashful against their hushed judgement.

"Th-This is Y/N, my Prince. Our youngest daughter."

"And is she wed?"

The swiftness of how haste Aegon enquired about your marital status, freakishly made your heart flutter, your rather ravenous stomach churning with uneasiness.

"N-No, your Grace..."

"Good-Good."

Aegon had finished sparing your tongue-tied mother further embarrassment, as she was meekly led by a servant to your table. Although, it seemed Aegon was not yet done with you...

An instinctual gut feeling of a pair of prominent eyes burned against your head, and despite your timidity to decipher who, your curiosity overtook... Mayhaps you overestimated your ability to gain someone's attention.

With intense anticipation and raw shock, your wavering attention was met with Aegon's brutal gaze. As his pudgy finger traced over the blunt edges of his goblet, a sly smirk brewed across his ample face, his focus still fixated directly unto you. And although you had initially struggled to reciprocate the same, unnerving attention, you naturally sought comfort busking in his holistic notice.

A few seconds passed, before an unfamiliar servant called upon you, whispering that you follow his lead into the royal gardens, under direct command of Prince Aegon. You had no apparent need to excuse yourself, as your mother now returned to her usual, collective self, flouncy in talk with other keen mothers, of their aspirations to wed their daughters, whom too were far too immersed in spying and gossiping over which young, unwed lords they would sought, you managed to sneak off subtly.

The crisp, chill of the night air was refreshing, inhaling the floral scent looming over the garden, ridden with a diverse range of captivating, flora species. Slowly striding towards a rose, fearful you would frighten the flower shut, your hand lightly grazing over the soft petal. You had never seen such a vividly red colour, vibrant even in the shadow of the night. Your thoughts silenced, easing into a peace unlike anything you had embraced before.

"There you are-" A disruptive, deep voice loomed from behind.

"I've been meaning to catch you... W-Who are you, my sweet Y/N?"

"Y-You honour me, your Grace. I-I hate to disappoint, although I am just a simple-minded, country girl. The youngest, as my mother insisted, I have come to honour your Grace... That is all there is to me."

Aegon took a stride closer towards you, a chubby hand, meaty fingers tightly adorned in golden bands, rested atop his swollen belly, caressing his pudgy flesh clothed beneath.

"No, no you did not listen to me, sweet thing... I said, tell me who you are."

Inhaling a rather gratifying breath, for what felt like the entirety of the night, you spent in the solace company of Prince Aegon. He devoured your every word intently, as he keenly did the prized hog that was relentlessly prepared for his name-day feast.

Although your truth saddened him deeply, Aegon was rather gentle with you, taking a keen interest in your story.

"You need not listen to what they tell you, dearest Y/N... Your beauty is one blessed and favoured, by the Gods themselves. They surely took their time with you... They do say envy is a green-eyed monster... I know, I am merely a stranger to you now, but I speak only the truth... You will come to know this."

Come to know this... His comforting words echoed through your wondrous mind.

In return, it seemed Aegon too, shared a rather eerily, unfortunate fate to that of yours, with his own family. Although he was the eldest, and the son King Viserys had so desperately prayed for, he was cursed to disappoint since his birth. Often reminded and outweighed by his failures, his larger weight did not help his cause. Born a larger babe than the rest of his siblings, he too, naturally had a ravenous appetite than that of his younger brothers. It somehow brought shame to his family, irreparable, Aegon refused to change.

Now having met you, he selfishly felt comforted... He was not alone in being solely judged by his appearance.

"Do not fret, Y/N. Your existence goes beyond that of child-bearing and sufficing a man. A man ignorant to your kindness and affections, is a stupid man indeed."

Whether it was a buried confidence now seeping through, or by some divine push, you gracefully succumbed to the urge that plagued your mind lustfully, since eyeing Aegon's soft lips closely. Your lips crashed against his, the bittersweet taste of red wine lingered over his mouth, as he too embraced the exchange. It was a solid, passionate kiss, your breaths growing denser, before breaking loosely apart, your noses grazing over each other tenderly, foreheads pressed against one another. Taking your hands in his, his thumb stroking over your soft skin, you felt more at ease than you did at home.

"Rest assured, Y/N. I will marry you, I will save you the torment your own family inflicts upon you. You do not need to suffer in silence any more. You will say yes, and prove them wrong, if that is what you desire... I will love you, all of you. I will make up for all the lost years, all the years you did not need to hear such vile things. I will protect you."

Hot tears swelled your eyes, yet not out of anger, nor frustration or agony. For the first time, you felt intense joy. Nodding in solid agreement, you promised Aegon to be a dutiful, loyal wife in return. One that did not care if his waistline grew or shrunk, one that did not judge a person by scales.

"In return, your Grace, my beloved. I will cherish the life you have granted me, and in return, I will do everything I can to return the favour and more... I love you, Aeg. May this name-day be one that you remember with a warm heart."

"This name-day, Y/N, is one I have dreamt of for all my life. Finally, the Gods have blessed me, gevie ābra [beautiful woman], one I will take great care in. If it is not obvious, I am quite full... Do not be frightened, I will not break you."

"Aeg- That is the least of my worries... In fact, I don't mind this-" You cheekily tease, innocently poking at his round gut, provoking a growling chuckle from your betrothed to be.

"If I'm being honest, I find it quite... Invigorating."

"Is that so?"

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

[mrchiipchrome]

55 with steph catley please 🙂

prompt 55. -Just hold me now.

Y'all know the drill, if you want to request there's a prompt list linked in my masterlist:)

-----------------

“Baby, I’m home!” Your voice is heard all throughout the hallway as you kick off your shoes. The house you live in with your wife is suspiciously quiet, the only sound being the pitter patter of Calvin’s paws against the floor.

Giving Calvin an egregious amount of pets, you soon move to remove the coat from your shoulders. Your confusion only heightens when Steph doesn’t come and give you your normal ‘welcome home kiss’ as she called it.

Looking around at the white walls of your newly purchased home, you hear the slightest bit of quiet chatter coming from the living room. Your sock clad feet thump against the floor as you make your way to the large room with your tv in it.  

The look on your face when you enter the room is just hilarious, looking closer to a deer in headlights than a human.

Because there sat your wife…and all her Arsenal teammates, the teammates you’d never met formally before, the teammates that didn’t know you existed.

Looking around at their varying expressions, your eyes finally land on a familiar face, that of the skipper. The older woman had come over at the…wrong time once, leading you to having to explain exactly who you were and why you were in the same bed as her teammate.

Next to her is your wife, who has the same expression as you, only slightly more horrified. She knows that you’ll both have to answer questions like the ones Kim had posed all those years ago, only 10 times worse.

“Aye, who’s this now?” The painstakingly recogniseable accent of one Katie McCabe startles you out of your thoughts and you snap your head in her direction before turning your head back to look at Steph.

At the sight of her nod, you turn back to Katie with a nonchalant look.

“I’m Stephy’s wife” Holding up your hands, you both watch the shock wash over the other girl’s faces, well everyone except Kim’s.

After 1 second of quiet, the room suddenly explodes with voices, the girls throwing out questions haphazardly. You walk over to the love seat Steph had been sitting in, she stands up so that you can sit down before setting herself down in your lap.

 You wait for the girl to get comfortable before interrupting the chaos.

“Hey! One question at a time please, that way you’ll get your answers more clearly.” Your voice carries all through the room, and to your surprise the group of women quiet almost instantly. You get a hum and a nod from the skipper, not even her being able to calm them down that fast.

“Okay, first question!”

“How long has this been going on?” Your wife’s national teammate asks, Caitlin looking at you two expectantly.

“Well we’ve been married for 4 years now-” You start off the answer, the women looking around at each other in shock not thinking you’d been married for more than a couple months.

“-But we’ve been together since we were 15” Steph finishes off with a toothy grin, interlocking your hands at the front of her body. It only takes another second until the room explodes once again, and the loud noise makes her tuck her head in under your chin. 

Soon enough your hands come up to cover her ears, the woman sighing into your neck at the relief it brought. Not long after that, the skipper managed to reign the team in so the interrogation could continue.

“How could you not tell us? More importantly, how could we not catch you once during nearly 15 years?” Caitlin questions once again, and you look at Steph adoringly.

“You wanna take this one my love?” Pressing a kiss to her temple, you can hear the awws coming from the team.

“In the beginning it was new for both of us, and we didn’t feel the need to tell you, but then in a snap 3 years had gone by and then it was already too late to tell you. We just figured you’d find it out in your own time, but you didn’t” Steph ends it off with a shrug.

The rest of the girls look on in disbelief as your girl continues.

“As for you not catching us, that’s your own fault. I mean there were some close calls…” Just for good measure, Steph adds a wink to the end of her sentence.

“OHHH so that’s what you were doing in that storage closet, ewww” Caitlin can’t help but shudder at the thought that just ran through her head.

“Okay, more questions?” You ask to divert the attention from your wifes now rosy cheeks, knowing she’d be teased for it later.

“What do you do for a living?” The young Australian asks, Kyra not really looking you in the eye.

“Well I’m a professor in History and English, and sometimes I substitute for the math teacher.” You smile softly at the shy girl, your wife having told you of her appreciation for the young girl.

The Australian youngster perks up at the mention of you being a teacher, the girl having question upon question for you. You’re so preoccupied with the young girl that you don’t even realize the lovestruck look your Australian love sends you. But the rest of them do, choosing not to say anything in fear of destroying the moment.

A while later it’s time to say goodbye, and after promising to come to their games more often plus hugging your second favorite Australian extra tightly, they all finally leave.

Collapsing on the couch, the long day finally catches up to you like it always does. Steph helps you into a pair of pjs before helping you brush your teeth, your hands squeezing at her waist every so often to show that you were awake.

After brushing her own teeth, the woman leads you to bed where after crawling under the covers you ask;

“Hey baby, could you just hold me now?” The Australian just hums in response, curling her body around your taller one as best as she can.

She was just the perfect woman, your first and only love.

[dollypopup]

sorry, still on this soapbox but

we have really, REALLY done Colin a disservice in this fandom. we spent so long viewing him primarily as a Love Interest and not as a Character. But when we see and analyze him as a character, so many of his actions make sense, and it becomes almost ridiculous, the dynamics we've imposed on this couple (yes, I'm talking about the 'Colin fucked up and needs to prove himself to Penelope' narrative) when there's so much more nuance and beauty to their pairing than we give them credit for

we as the audience focus so much on Penelope's perspective in their relationship, of course, because we have so much of her perspective in the show, and so our frustrations with Colin stem from that, but we get more insight into him than Penelope does. The 'I would never court her' scene that we've been livid over for years is considerably softened when we actually look at Colin as a character, and the circumstances around his actions.

Colin spends season 2 SAD. He is straight up not okay. We leave Colin in Season 1 freshly heartbroken and running away to Greece to heal. In Season 2, we meet him again, considerably more somber. Colin doesn't participate in the dances. He even says 'I'm just a spectator'. Colin talks about how he started a conversation with himself, tried to understand what he wants and how he feels. Colin offers Benedict shroom tea, and for a moment, JUST A MOMENT, we see the facade slip. His mask cracks. 'Are you quite alright, brother?' and then it's gone. Then he's cheerful again. Calm Colin. Nice Colin.

Colin who is okay.

But Colin is *not* okay. Colin completely isolates himself from women. Colin doesn't flirt, doesn't entertain female attention. Colin is heartbroken, trying to be better. But he views Penelope as a friend, a sacred relationship, a worthwhile relationship, and he can't bear to lose her. To him, Penelope is arguably his closest friendship. His best friend. And in an entire town full of people who don't listen to him, he thinks Penelope does. Unlike the typical dynamic of the ton, in which men are ONLY speaking to women by viewing them as potential sexual partners, Colin views Penelope as a whole person. She doesn't just exist as a romantic option to him, but as a vital connection in his life. That's why the 'I am a woman' 'You are. . .Pen' is so important to view as an act of love- Penelope is NOT just a woman as the ton sees her, good for marriage prospects and little else, Penelope is a complete person. Yes, she's a woman, but more importantly, she's PEN. She's a full human being. And he values her as such. We cannot say the same for the grand majority of men in his society. Tell me any other male-female friendships like that in the ton where that level of respect is given?

But for Penelope, it's hurtful, because she WANTS to be seen as a romantic option in his eyes. That's a fair feeling, though we as an audience should recognize that it can be both upsetting to Pen, and also deeply beautiful as a sentiment. Because of Penelope's hopes of Colin as a romantic prospect, she does not see that he is hurting. Because of our connection as a fandom to Penelope, we do not see it, either. But he *is* hurting. In all of Season 2 he's hurting. That's why he throws himself into the Jack mess. He wants, NEEDS a distraction. He wants to find a place in his world, his society. Honestly? He needs a win. He has spent the last year losing and losing and losing. Who can blame him for being sick of it? His engagement blows up, he finds out his family pays no attention to him, that no one cares about his agency, and he's publicly humiliated. If he invests, if he makes money, he might make more male connections. Might run in more important circles. Like his brothers do. Might prove himself. But Colin isn't friends with the men of the ton. We don't see ANY evidence that he has strong friendships with any of them. Because he isn't like them.

He is 22 years old. Treated like a child in his own family. When he talks about his travels, no one listens. Everyone dismisses him. 'Remarkable, yes, in the sense that I have many remarks about it'. Colin is invisible. He is trying to slot himself in his community, but he does not fit neatly into it. He connects with Will, a man outside his community, and Penelope, a woman also outside his community, because *Colin* exists outside his community. He's the foolish boy who fell headfirst for a woman who lied to him. He's the 'green' baby walking in his older brother's footsteps and unable to fill them. He doesn't behave the way other men of the ton do. He doesn't talk like other men of the ton do. Hell, he *apologizes* to women. We have men NOW in the MODERN ERA who don't even apologize to women.

His own *mother* doesn't even notice he was dating someone for several months in season 1. Colin is a pretty, empty ghost wandering around Mayfair, and so of course he's thrown into a locker room conversation with a bunch of guys who have never once seen a woman as a person, and doesn't relate to them. Colin's not joking and having fun with these men. We very purposefully do not see his reaction after he delivers the 'I would never court her' line.

Colin is uncomfortable around them, but he needs their help to make it up to Will, someone who was kind to him and who he looks up to. He has the mask on so firmly in that scene, it's physically obvious to see. If you compare his reactions around Penelope to his reactions around Fife, it's stark. With Penelope he's open, his eyes are soft, his expression is curious and kind, his shoulders are relaxed. Around Fife he's closed off, eyes hard, muscles tense. Who can blame him? He's acting. He's acting just like he's acting around Jack.

When we look at Colin as a whole character, we get insight into his actions and they make SENSE. The things he say that hurt Penelope are things that are actually defending her- Colin saying he wouldn't court her to those men in particular, is an act of caring. He is defending her in that scene. When a debutante is only good for being 'wed, bed, and bred' in their eyes, Colin saying no, that Penelope is worth more than that, that his connection to her isn't forged on wanting to fuck her, or exploit her, or treat her as a sexual object, is radical. Because anything else, ANYTHING else that he says that isn't an outright denial, puts Penelope in danger. He can't let them believe that the woman he cherishes so deeply he cannot even ENTERTAIN the idea of not talking to her is out here being ruined by his hands.

And when we see it that way, we see that, in reality, of all the men in the series, Colin is the one who has been kindest to his love interest. Colin is the one who has defended her, the one who has stuck his neck out for her, the one who has cared for her with absolutely no expectations of sex or romance in return.

Colin's relationship to Penelope is beautiful, and sure, she can be upset that it isn't in the exact shape she wants it to be, but I think if she takes a step back and looks at it more objectively, if WE take a step back and look at it more objectively, Colin has only ever gone into it with a big, earnest heart. Not PERFECTLY, of course, he isn't perfect, but with the best intentions, and with as much honesty as he can.

And I don't know why we don't celebrate him more for it

[the-fiction-witch]

Kitten

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Cute + Flirty

Requested hii. I have an idea for a story. what if Jack started teaching and y/n is a student and y/n falls in love and then they have a secret love and it's like a teacher's pet kind of story? I love your stories❤️❤️

I came out of a patient's room and began to head to the prep room to do some organizing when I noticed something. I was often perkier to the sighs around me, perhaps the years of criminality and street life teach you to be far more aware of your surroundings. As I exited the room and walked down the hallway, I noticed someone poke their head around the corner and begin to follow me. I didn't get a good look at them and assumed they were going in the same direction for a while. Still, they seemed to walk like they were following without much purpose other than to follow, so I did a couple of turns on the hospital corridors even doubling back on myself and yes this lady was still following me. If she needed something she surely would have called out by now so after a good ten minutes of this I turned around and caused her to freeze up only a few inches behind me. 

"What do you want?" I asked as I rested my hands on my hips finally getting a decent look at her,

She was young certainly, her Y/H/C hair up in a tight milkmaid braid with a red ribbon plaited into the braid and then a bow at the back of her head, she had a sweet face and a pair of spectacles on her nose, a red cotton dress with some cream lace around her hems and her elbow length sleeves, a long structured skirt with a bustle at her back almost as big as her that seemed to move with her almost like a tail, a leather-bound book in her hand clutched to her chest. 

She jumped as she saw me suddenly turn and she didn't say a word rather awkward she got caught. 

"Well?"

"Doctor Dawkins?"

"Yes,"

"Fantastic, I want you to teach me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want you to teach me, to train me, to be a doctor." 

"You are out of your mind," I told her continuing on my way but she followed, 

"I assure you I am mentally fit, although I can have a letter confirming as such by next week if required." She explained as she followed me, 

"it's not, nothing is required. I'm not a bloody teacher." I told her as I headed into the prep room, 

"But Doctor Dawkins, I need to learn no hospital job will even look at me without the proper training, and at least a month on the ward work." 

I sighed as I leaned on the table, "Fine, go to the nurse's office in the entryway and talk to Hetty, she'll get you a uniform and get you some work." I told her,

"with all due respect doctor Dawkins that's nurse work, I need Doctor training."

"And why would you need that?"

"Becuase I want to be a doctor," she smiled,

"Women cannot be doctors," I told her as I got on with my work even if she was still chasing me around,

"I have read all medical law textbooks no such law exists."

"Well, it's an unwritten law then."

"And thus not legally binding." 

"Look, these are not my rules, there are society's rules."

"Society is fickle," she shrugged, 

"But there are rules.

"Doctor Dawkins," She said, "Until last year coal mines did not need inspectors, Ten years ago children as young as five were allowed to be chimney sweeps, sixteen years ago apprentices could be of any age, thirty one years ago children under nine where permitted to work." She explained, "With all due respect Doctor Dawkins, the world is ever changing and I'm sure at some point we will too look back at the concept of a woman not being allowed to train as a doctor just as preposterous as a nine-year-old chimney sweet apprentice." 

God damn it...

She's smart... 

and she has a point. 

"Even IF I wanted to allow you, there is no way on this earth Prof would allow me to teach you a woman or not. He runs this hospital and he will not allow it." 

"Well, I am an exception." She smiled took a letter from her book and handed it over, I took it and looked it over even if the words swirled around and I had no concept what was written on it but UI gave it long enough to make her think I read it. 

"There a translation of all of this?" 

"I have special permission to come and train at this hospital." she smiled, 

"There is no way prof signed off on this. not possible."

"Very possible,"

"Why would be?"

"Becuase I Y/n Y/l/n," she smiled, "Daughter of Marilyn McGregor."

I was confused and thought for a moment and then it all suddenly clicked in my head like a damn jigsaw puzzle, "You're Y/n."

"Yes,"

"You're Marilyn's daughter," 

"Yes,"

"You're the Professor's Granddaughter..."  

"Correct." She smiled, 

"Even so, even if you are his granddaughter why doesn't he just teach you?"

"He says a younger doctor would be better to teach me, and he's busy."

"Then why not Doctor Sneed?"

"He did ask him,"

"And he said?"

"... Such words are not for a young lady to repeat." 

"You're not going to let up on this are you?"

"I am not." 

"Fine." I sighed, 

Y/n was a good student, she listened, took notes, didn't speak unless spoken to, and very rarely ever disturbed what I was doing. I did my best to teach her even if I wasn't the best candidate to be an educator of any type, And I suppose after these weeks I had... grown somewhat fond of her. This constant smiling presence follows along behind me. I did have a thought at the back of my mind that she may have... had interests in me that went beyond education but I did my best not to think of it, even if I admit she is a very pretty thing, very intelligent, and so very kind to me, she's probably the sweetest girl I've ever met, and I couldn't help feel a little affection for her But Society would frown upon a teacher and student ever being more then just that, Her family surely would never want her to be anything more with a man like me, and the professor would likely fire me, string me up and drag me out to see if he ever knew I had even thought about his Granddaughter in such ways. But still, we were... playful with each other as two people who spend much time together are sure to be. I had taken to calling her 'Kitten' Mostly because she reminds me of one so much, The way she follows along behind me like a lost little kitten follows you when you smell nice to them or have something they want, the way she sometimes gets under my feet while I work like a cat trying to knot herself around my ankles often leaning me to tred on her feet, to which would cause her yelp and whine like a little kitty. The way her bustle skirt often shifts and wiggles as she walks along like she's waving her little tail around, And every day every time I saw her this wide happy smile was like a newborn kitten. I suppose on some days she's more like a puppy waiting around with a smile and following me, but there was no way I was going to be able to call her a dog and not get slapped around the back of the head. Which she was also known for doing when I upset her like a cat batting my head with her claws. 

I finished getting dressed for the day and left my room and the moment I stepped outside I very nearly walked into her the moment I shut my door she was there inches from me so much so I could smell her lavender perfume and was faced with being unable to look anywhere but her Y/E/C Eyes.

"Good Morning Doctor Dawkins!" She Gleamed, 

"AHh! Christ Kitten." I sighed, "Back up a bit you don't need to wait outside my door that closely."

"I like to," she giggled,

"I know you liked it too but a little space isn't a bad thing," I told her 

"I'm sorry,"

"It's fine, I take it you're a very affectionate kitten today?" I asked and she nodded, "Alright," I chuckled, 

"I got you an Orange," She smiled revealing she had already gone to the kitchen to fetch me an orange as she does most mornings,

"Thank you, Kitten," I smiled taking it and starting to eat as we headed down and of course, she followed along behind me almost attached to my hip, sometimes as I was working I honestly did have to check she wasn't holding onto my suspenders she was so close to me, I was actually struggling to focus she kept getting so close to me, a couple of times I noticed her head leaning on the tip of my shoulder which I often glared at and she'd stop, but all of this was getting on my nerves and about halfway through the afternoon I walked into the storage cupboard shutting the door as soon as we are both inside, she stops and turns to me rather puzzled,

"did you mean to walk into the cupboard doctor?" 

"Yes, I did," I said walking down the stairs to be level with her,

"Ohh? I see, something to do in the cupboard?" 

"Yes." 

"Alright then,"

"Kitten?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"What is the matter with you today?"

"Hum?"

"You have been attached to my bloody belt since I got up this morning what is going on?" 

"Nothing," she said sheepishly,

"kitten." I glared, "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing I'm just... very eager to learn today."

"Are you now?"

"yes," she blushed,

"Really?"

"Yes..."

"We're alone kitten. You sure there isn't anything you'd like to say?" 

"Well... Maybe,"

"Go on, tell me what's going on."

She closed the gap between us and kissed me, her lips soft and sweet but Immediately I backed away trying to get my head straight, for a few seconds we both just stood in silence.

"We- we should not be doing this."

"Why not?" she whined, 

"I'm older than you!"

"not by that much,"

"You're my boss's granddaughter!"

"He's a drunk idiot."

"I- I'm your teacher." I remind her, 

"So? I'm happy being a teacher's pet," she giggled, "Don't you like me, doctor?"

"I-I do- I do But... We can't do this." 

"Don't you want to?"

"Of course I want to! But sometimes you can't do the things you want." 

"Not in my experience," She smiled closing the gap and kissing me again, I sighed and kissed her back wrapping my arms around her waist until I pulled back and rubbed my nose against her own,

"Are you sure this is what you want?" I gasped,

"More than Anything,"

I nodded "Alright Kitten," I kissed her again holding her close and she happily kissed back. 

I woke to the sun cascading in slightly burning my eyes, I felt the bed shifting and moving and I smiled as I heard her sweet voice,

"Good Morning Doctor Dawkins," 

I opened my eyes and saw Y/n lying with me her chain on my chest, I rested my hand on her cheek and gave her a sweet kiss, "Good Morning Kitten," 

"what are we learning today?"

"Humm? What are we learning?" I smirked down at her, "How about we go over the lesson from last night?"

she smirked back, "We have that amputation this morning,"

"Do we?" I sighed,

"mhm,"

"Ughhh.. fine!" I groaned, "Go on kitten get dressed I'll get set up and meet you down there." I told her turning setting my feet on the floor and rubbed my eyes but before I could even get up she claimed her arms around my torso and dragged me back down onto the bed, "Hi kitten." I laughed at suddenly being laid back on the bed with her nose on mine,

"Hi, five more minutes to... go over out lesson from last night?"

"Oh? to go over your extra credit lesson from last night?"

"Mhm," she nodded, 

"Alright Kitten," i smirked pulling her back into a kiss and flipping us over so she was under me... 

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

Sometimes I feel a little bit bad about the crap taekookers say about Jimin and then I see their real life pictures and burst out laughing IJBOL max. They look like aunties I piss off by simply existing and take up space. Then I am just like damn you are speaking on my guy? Any way we move.

I got this ask and I didn't know what it was about but I think I know now.

Every once in a while I like to download my Twitter archive to see what I said about something when it happened, or look for photos I might've posted on Twitter, etc. A few months ago I found a qrt that I did of a jikook report account. It was September - October 2020 and there was a massive taekook groupchat where a fucking loser was claiming to have "inside info" that Jimin had physically fought and hurt Jungkook backstage during some tour and staff had seen it or something.

It brought back some unpleasant (to say the least) memories because it was a serious tipping point for me. My tolerance levels regarding taekook and jikook, even Taehyung and Jungkook themselves (because the fanservice was going crazy at that time too) started to saturate very, very fast after that. And I really can't believe that people are still doing shit like that, regurgitating the same bullshit over and over. The same people that think saying Jungkook fucks women is a hate crime and that it'll affect his mental health. The same people that can't even stand the sole mention that Taehyung was in a relationship with Jennie. I really have never been able to wrap my mind around the behavior and double standards. And I've said this before, too. They laughed and used as a drag the leak about Jimin's health insurance thing - privacy invasion was hilarious to them when it happened to Jimin but they were close to reporting it to the FBI when Taennie's couple photos leaked.

They do this all the time, and they've been doing it for years. If anything it's one more constant reminder that taekookers have always been so fucked in the head that saying "jikook isn't real" was never enough for them. I question if they actually believe in taekook because there's no need to try to DESTROY Jimin's character and image only because of jikook. I can say taekook is not real without even bringing up Taehyung's poor attitude, as well as I can list everything I don't like about him without even bringing up taekook.

But no, taekookers aren't even mad about ships. They really just hate the fact that Jimin exists and that Taehyung will never be loved and supported the way Jimin is loved and supported.

[women-of-malevolent]

All references to women in Part 29 - The Train

I hate John and Arthur's ~quirky~ new dynamic here /queasy

below the cut: a departure from my usual style, a long rant about the shift in tone from season to season

John is stuck inside Arthur's body and clearly feeling trapped in there. Arthur keeps dismissing John as yammering and nagging, John keeps mocking Arthur's happiness and relaxation. Finally we get to the root of whatever this argument is: John wants to see a film, he can't take himself to, and Arthur won't take him. Which. That sucks. You're the asshole, Arthur. John can't take himself, and he was just tortured for a thousand years and then helped you kill Uncle even though he really didn't want to. Jesus christ arthur pisses me off this season and I hate the quirky music trying to convince me his shit is cute :/

John is also gross here, mocking Arthur for eating, which is uncomfortably vicious. Arthur is really skinny, this comes up a lot, and he has a lot of trauma around food. In addition to the constant little jabs and corrections...

I think it's uncomfortable and bummery for John, a trying-to-do-good fragment of King In Yellow, be reduced to a petulant nag at this point in the story. Why now? Why does John now need to be taken down a peg, after being tortured for a thousand years by KIY and Kayne and then being made complicit in murder with Arthur? This sucks!

It's so sad, this line where he's like, "After all we've been through, you treat me like a passenger! I feel degraded and hurt!" And the music is like, silly and quirky, and Arthur is harried and ignoring John and talking to all the other people he's encountering in the world. HUMOR! Literally, who in the audience wanted this??? (no one did, this scene exists to shake off the dirty jarthur shippers who really liked when these two guys talked about love and finding each other in hell a couple episodes ago. This is a PLATONIC story, and platonic love means treating your friends like they're annoying nags for begging you to take them to a movie, something they can't do without you) (to spell it out I think canon!jarthur is not queerplatonic. It's not romantic. It's not anything; it's just here, every week, because that way there's a show. Arthur treats John like he's an annoying burden, and John is literally trapped inside of Arthur.)

I thought the weird John stuff was going to lead to a commentary or themes about misogyny. Like I thought they were intentionally (dysfunctional) husband and wife coded here and structural misogyny as a product of inertia, very real survival and safety concerns, and individual human fallibility was going to be explored. Now I doubt it

Arthur asks John if he's allowed to talk openly in the traincar. John says there's a woman who's been here the whole time, listening, and she looks offended. It's me I'm the woman (jk no I'm the cackling harpy they released in Part 38)

Just a random thought. I wonder how easy or hard it would be for a woman (or trans man, or enby) to get into the Freemasons 🤔 or any other all-male group, when they have to be invited and indoctrinated in. I think it'd probably be very hard. Like it was designed to make it impossible.

Hey but yknow it's okay Arthur can get inside, he does know a member! "Faroe's mother. Err, Bella. Her father was a Freemason."

Arthur tells Percival, a stranger he meets on the train, a story to calm Percival's nerves. A man named Mat Rullen trudges through the wilderness of the frozen North, at the mercy of a disregarding universe. His mother had died, his wife had died, the men he loved had died. He was working towards something... and it's revealed to be a cabin, one he'd shared with a friend years back. And the friend is there! The fire is warm. His friend asks, why are you here? Mat says, he killed a man, so he needed to leave. Charlie tells him, he can't stay, Charlie is here with a woman. Mat pleads with Charlie, but Charlie says no, Mat must leave. The end (he's interrupted and can't continue)

Eughhhhhhh ew John gets excited about having daring chases, and Arthur says "Well, you are my eyes, best be training them to think like me." He's not Arthur's eyes, he's John, and he's providing Arthur with exhausting accessibility labor that Arthur relies on.

[kayakoto-enterprises]

She Loves You (2/2)

Cathedrals are everywhere for the eyes to see.

Thank you all for being patient with how long this took! Happy 2nd month, House Guest! This crazy hyperfixation has me holding on and recovering from everything.

Read the 1st part and the Midfic to fully understand everything going on here.

In which our beloved couple present themselves happily long before they need to defend their existence to their imagined public.

December 12, 1987

.

.

.

You want to look up and pretend it isn't snowing. you want to see the autumn sky again but no. It's flat. It's a pastel lavender. And the weather freezes everyone's paws as they read the morning paper. You're unwrapping this notebook that's been sitting snuggly in the wrapper for the new season. and as you transfer important notes and numbers from the old book, a pink sticky note has her name and telephone number on it. It was only yesterday when you first called but the numbers are already burnt into your mind. Then your eyes look at the clock, monitoring the hours, scratching in impatience, anticipating…

Then you realise what’s happening. You thought that you had kept her at arms-length, close enough but not comfortable. You kept most people at a distance but not her. She begins to tap dangerously close into your mind and you can only shut down to prevent any more ideas from flowing. But she’s multiplying, burrowing everywhere you can hide. How annoying.

Then you may stop to think to yourself: “Is it likely that I’m falling in love again?” Again? Since when have I loved someone? Like Lola? I’m not too sure if there’s a calibre we can weigh the intensity on. Maybe a heart attack, but I never had any of those either. In any case though, I don’t believe I do that sort of thing. The feeling is far distant from it. I could say that I love different things- like the autumn breeze, black coffee with hazelnuts, or the feeling of control. Those are just extreme expressions we throw around. Nothing else special. 

I walked out of the shop expecting a yellow sky but it was still covered in lavender. The feeling was beginning to make me go mad. Dressing up in new garb, looking directly at myself in confused rage. I’ve had this conversation before. I like women. I prefer women. I am not above killing them though. But love knows its ways around me. I’m blushing. I’m fixating on every clumsy sign of affection she shows me. Her kind gestures. Her smile. The way she scrunches her face when her glasses begin to slip. Her unusual voice. I’m beginning to feel it again. A quickened heartbeat. The blurry vision. Sweaty palms. Slurred thoughts.

Maybe I do.

Then she shakes my shoulder when she finds me sitting near the ticket booth with my arms crossed. I sit up properly taking a good look at her. Julianne finally wore her glasses outside, the red frames matching a ribboned top. It was something a little nicer than any of her usual outfits. I curiously wondered though who was inside the silver locket she was wearing.

“Hi, I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“No, you aren’t late at all.” I replied “It’s not even 4 yet but let’s hurry. I have a secret to show you in here.”

Her ears popped up hearing the invitation. She nodded and followed behind me when I bought our tickets and made our way into the cinema. The theatre lights were still on, but as to be expected, there were handfuls of families crowding the theatre this Saturday. Thankfully seats 6 and 7 on Row L were empty and everyone else was courteous enough to not surround our bubble as badly as they could have. 

“Don’t tell anyone about this spot.” I whispered “This has the best view in the cinema even on a packed night.”

Her eyes instead focus on the architectural quirks and details swirling around the space, drawn immediately to the gold cat centrepiece hanging above the screen. She looks back at me and nods.

 “It is…seems just right in the middle..” Her voice tones down to a shy whisper. She rubs her hand on the plush of the velvet seat. The lights dim and the projection begins. The doors are closed for the next hour. Time was moving slower in that red box. I could barely focus on the movie. I know I’ve seen it before somewhere. Julianne on the other hand had her eyes focused on every minute and every detail. She was holding back her excitement to not be so rude. The entire time I was squinting, making out her face in the dark and she only caught me staring once just to tell me her favourite scene was coming up. I forced myself to look at the screen, avoiding suspicion but my hands wandered, landing on top of hers, comfortably sliding my fingers between the gaps, neither of us aware what we were doing to one another.

I could not resist it. My signals were jammed, and they were all directing me to hold her hand or her arms the entire time. I regained autonomy when I asked myself if I could take it a step further. Then the excitement of momentum drowned. 

Julianne continued to hold my hand though even outside the theatre an hour later, humming the songs happily and swaying her arms.

“Hey Julianne, your glasses are fogged.”

“Aw, are they? Thanks.” She let go and grabbed a napkin to clean them up.

She leaned her head on my arm, purring as we continued walking downtown to her apartment. Lively Saturday nights have returned slowly but surely. Christmas lights and displays illuminated the stores around each corner, decorated with trinkets or dioramas of religious imagery. Julianne would stop every now and then to admire a few of them. 

“Thanks for taking me to see Annie tonight. You really didn’t have to.” 

“It’s my pleasure. I don’t know what to do with myself on December nights. Everyone is either out of town or closed early.”

“Everyone is home in December where I’m from. Woodbrook would be twice as busy. Everything would be open til 11!”

I gently smile.

“Oh, I should make it up to you..uhm..do you like magic shows? Not the birthday party sort of ones, the ones that are a lil more mature.” Julianne asks almost excitedly “It’s more of a comedy thing than it is kiddie entertainment. I could take you with me..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t. It’s not my cup of tea.” I said between half-gritted teeth, feeling awful for rejecting the offer. 

“Well, is there any hobby you have that we can do together? Something we can do over the weekend?” Julianne begins insisting. 

“I don’t really have a lot. I’m getting old, so maybe woodwork but most of my hobbies are solitary”

“We can always meet at the library then. I don’t mind. Also, have you eaten dinner? Do you want to go out? I’ll pay tonight since you paid for the tickets.”

I struggled to reply to that. I really had no appetite today. Maybe a few pieces of bread would do today but the thought of the movie meet up tonight weighed upon my head even after the fact, I had lost the will to. I shook my head. 

I’ve been down this road before.

Except she was a lot more merciful in her methods. She left disappointed but she at least understood when to stop pushing my buttons.

“I’m being so pushy, am I? I don’t want to force you to do anything. You’re just so nice to me. I also wanna be nice to you.” She frowns, wrapping her tail around her waist for her to fidget with. We stop at the entrance of the red building. She looks back at me and slowly blinks.

“I’ll leave it at that for now. You really should eat dinner though. Thank you!”

I stood at the doorway for longer than I would have liked to admit.

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December 15, 1987

Last night, Woodbrook experienced its first gleanings of winter. This morning, my driveway was covered in snow. I figured that I should get the front of the house and shop cleared up as early as now to avoid delaying opening. And so I was up since 5, shovelling through snow and greeting school children before it was time I drove to town to do more of the same. 

Coming into the town proper, an alarm bell began ringing in my mind- it was calling for me to look around. I did not understand what I was watching for suddenly. There were no signals in the snow this morning. From the reflection on the glass though was a bright rose parka that my eyes followed into the corner to the church. Nobody else wears that bright of a color here.

Following the butterfly into the pews, I hung my head low and pretended to have a reason to be there. She was seated rows away from me, spending 20 more minutes praying the rosary. She broke out of that solemness and looked around her, turning her back and finally acknowledging my presence. Her cheeks warmed up as she smiled then hid her blushing as she quickly got up and signalled I should follow her. 

“Did..did anyone see that?”

“See what?”

“See me…”

I playfully wrapped my arm around her shoulder. Her cheek got redder, cautiously looking around the street for any onlookers. 

“Most people can’t put up a fight about it. Cut it out.” I reassured her “Wanna get a chocolate at Betsy’s?”

“I’m fine, I’ll be making pancakes at home. Do you want to come with me?”

We looked at a clock inside the still closed stationery store. It was 7 in the morning. The storefront was already clean anyway. 

“I’ll help cook them with you. I’m glad you asked, ‘cause I haven’t eaten anything since 5.”

“Five? I’ve been in church since five. It’s the first snow too.” She was holding out her tongue to taste the snow. 

“Yeah, just clearing out my road, and you don’t have work today?”

“Woodbrook Elementary suspended classes today due to how intense the snow was last night. I also thought that, yknow, 10 days til Christmas. Isn’t there a vigil mass leading up to Christmas at the start of the day? Guess not.” She was talking her head off, eyes still looking behind us. The church had long disappeared into the horizon and she was still distracting me from actually asking what I had come there for.

“No, they don’t. But there is a mass during Christmas Eve. Do you want us to go together?”

“No, no, no, no, I don’t..want to..go to Mass..going with..I’m just saying God would know I’m coming there with impure intentions or what have you.”

Her eyes avert away from where we’re walking and she tries to let go of the grip I have on her. I just continue to hold her closer. The heat in between us was already far too comfortable to let go of. She tried again and my hand just lowered itself to where it was holding her hip.

“No, I’m not letting you go, we still have a block away to walk. Nobody is out here anyway.”

It was an unusually empty Tuesday morning. Half the stores on this avenue were shut down and the foggy air obscured whatever might just be waking up right now. Everything was washed in cream and blues that Christmas ornaments and lights would cut through later in the day. But it was 7 in the morning. To the two of us, this could have been a 3 pm on any other season. 

“It’s safe for two girls or guys to hold hands at least here. Anything other than that is a gamble. I don’t think anyone has any balls in them to punch anyone over what we’re doing right now.”

“I mean..we’re just friends though, right?” Julianne quickly corrected me.

“Of course, of course. That’s why I was thinking if we could attend mass together then we’ll have Christmas dinner. How does that sound?”

“You’re Catholic too?”

I could feel myself trying to not burst into laughter at her silly question. That’s the worst you could assume of me. 

“Sorta” I lied.

“Then we can, as..you know..friends..and you just don’t have to look at me during Mass but..”

“Julianne, don’t think about the Mass part, think of what we’ll do when we get back to my house–” I held my breath and thoughtfully constructed what I would say next “-- What food we’re gonna be eating or what drinks I should prepare..do you drink alcohol? No, bad question, do you have an allergy somewhere? Are you okay with salmon steak for us both..?”

Julianne pulled out her keys when we got to the lobby of the apartment building, eyes following us to the room at the top of the complex.

“I do love salmon, what if we bake it though with buttered vegetables and cheese?”

Her face was red and warm, a hand similarly holding on to the small of my back in front of more people than she worried about. She excitedly talked about what she could cook for the night or what we’d be doing after.

The rosary on her neck heard every intention and desire regardless.

They know. And they’re rewarding her for it.

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December 25, 1987

“I told you” She whispered “Don’t look at me during the Mass.”

“Where else was I supposed to look?”

“I don’t know…the altar?” Julianne pouted again. She toyed with the silver heart on her chest since we got inside the truck. 

We were stuck in the traffic between the busiest roads in town. New cars were flowing in and out of town for vacation while most were rushing home for dinner or their reservations. Last year I spent the day in bed, watching movies alone, and hiding from the world. I was still well fed by at least three families sending me everything I wanted. I was eating a casserole and cookies under my table waiting for Spring. I did miss the formality of the night though. I used to spend it with the Albrights for over two decades. Now with them away, I was getting calls from all around town to stay over. But the message was clear this year. Julianne placed her hands back on the handles of her tupperware when the light turned green.

“It’s so nice that you made that baked salmon too. You didn’t need to.”

“You just wouldn’t tell me what else I could do for you after Annie. It’s all I can do.”

Regardless, I was fine with returning routine back into my holiday schedule. I was wandering in the dark again earlier this year, trailing off of last year’s habits. I remember I still absentmindedly bought a certain somebody’s favorite cakes on a Monday afternoon for what was our afternoon tea time. Luckily, I now had someone at awe of such simple treats like raspberry tarts. Her tail was happily straightened up admiring the gussied-up kitchen. A table for two, sharing two big casseroles of food, strawberry shortcake, raspberry tarts, and a whole bottle of wine. She straightened her white dress, looking back to me to politely gesture we take a seat.

“As friends, right?”

“To my dearest friend, Julianne.”

I know she doesn’t only think of me as her friend.

I’m a special case. An eyecatcher. And then a crush. Then a friend. Now her first suitor. 

She’s crawling inside and finding her space.

Her hand rests on top of mine as we eat.

Many, many more wordless gestures.

The lamb rests inside comfortably.

I could lock it inside now.

But when her eyes curiously glance over to mine, the pressure drops and I feel similarly airy. A fever rushes back to me. The feelings become reciprocal for a glean of a second.

It’s poisoning us both.

This Christmas I watched a girl put a whole strawberry in her mouth. Then she helped me wash the dishes and pack away the Christmas garb on my dining table. For one night I was not angry. I felt fine. I felt fuzzy around her.

She gave me a few new shirts and hid stickers at the bottom of the box because she noticed I had this notebook with me all the time.

I hid one of my old sweaters in between the folds of the dress I bought for her.

In the safety of my house, just before she left, I asked her to come closer when I began thanking her for coming over. I lost focus of what I was intending on doing then leaned over and kissed her forehead before telling her to run along now. It looked like she wanted to reciprocate back but she walked away from my porch with her hand on her head. 

If I was thinking clearly, I may have asked her to be mine instead.

But some things take time, right?

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January 1st, 1988

I wondered where she was last night. I called her up in the morning of the eve, then the afternoon, and later left a message on her machine instead the minute a new year passed. My eyes were always looking for her. She had to be wearing any sort of shade of pink or red. Rose was absent from the crowd of onlookers tonight. Last night I only looked at the display with a solemn emptiness. I figured that maybe Julianne would have preferred a plain sky. When the smoke cleared, I looked up to see her windows shut. Her lights were still on but not even a hint like the sound of my keys prompted her to open them.

But I could feel myself develop a dependence on her presence in an environment ever since. I see flowers spelling her initials or colors I’ve sworn looked out of place in a town dull without eccentricity. And even before anything was finalized, I was asked- “where’s Julianne?” by at least 3 people.

I guess we go in pairs now.

I couldn’t be embarrassed about it anymore. It was my lifestyle now, knocking on their door to come inside the red bricked apartment. It’s like they were almost expecting me, telling me she’s been in her apartment since December 30th. I’ll admit, I began to worry when I got to her front door. I was imagining the poor girl depressed on the floor. But when she opened the door, she just sighed in relief and told me to get inside as soon as possible. She was feeling a bit jumpy, she described staying far, far away from the windows as possible. The sound of firecrackers and fireworks startled the poor kitten. It was not isolation but caution.

Fireworks displays were anxiety inducing to her. She voluntarily hid away from the parade to keep her peace of mind.

“And yet…” Julianne whispered to herself “...people were still looking for me.”

“You’re already such an integral part of the town. People are going to go look for you.” 

“Days ago, I was approached by Guy near his store, and he confidently called me ‘Amy’.”

“But have you heard what they’re calling you, though? Like Pinky. Pinky is a popular nickname now.” I chuckled.

“Pinky…”

“I’m sure they all understand.”

“But were you disappointed I wasn’t there?”

“I guess I was. But you should just tell me fireworks freak you out sometimes..”

She wrapped her arms around me in loving suggestion, almost immediately retracting before resting on my chest fully.

“I heard there’ll be another fireworks show over at the edge of Centerville though… if you want to watch something with me tonight..”

“I’m fine..let’s just stay where we are.”

“Stay…” She echoed back to me, crawling closer and closer.

“You’re so close now, woah, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure either. Do you?”

She sits herself on my thigh, arms wrapped around my shoulders as she lightly imitates initiation. She couldn’t keep a straight face though.

“Stay and watch the stars with me later.”

I tilted my head in flustered confusion. Sure I will. At least by now the smoke has settled. She slips her glasses off and leans into me, taking the initiation to kiss me first. 

The jumpiness transfers, shaking from her hand to mine to everybody. The burning and the electricity. How shocking. 

She loves me.