#//where clark just can't say what she wants to say

[dashing-disaster]

Okay I either just had the best or the worst idea on the topic of Crash That Helicopter and someone else has probably already had the same thought just better but.

What if Tommy regains consciousness and realises he's trapped and his chopper is basically toast, including his comms. But his phone is miraculously okay. So he calls 911.

Meanwhile at dispatch, Maddie is having the Worst Time with morning sickness and runs to the toilet every 10 minutes until Josh decides to force her to go home. But she refuses at first because Kevin and Sarah are both out with the flu and Jessica unexpectedly quit last week to follow her boyfriend of 5 weeks to Australia and now they're short staffed. But Josh tells her it's fine they'll figure it out and pretty much throws her out. He has a small breakdown because they are seriously short staffed but luck just so has it that one of the long term dispatchers walks through the door right then (Debbie perhaps?) with her friend who used to work here but quit years ago and now lives in Phoenix (was it phoenix? I don't quite remember) buy she wanted to see the new dispatch centre and say hi to some people. And in walks no other than Abby Clark.

And Josh is still spiralling a little and she immediately offers to fill in for a few hours it's really no problem she still works in dispatch after all and she knows the systems and she'd love to help. And Josh, stressed but grateful accepts and ushers her towards a free desk. And Abby gets to work right away and she definitely still got it, she does one or two simple calls absolutely flawlessly and then in comes the third call and the voice is familiar.

And that's how Abby takes Tommy's 911 call, and immediately dispatches the best unit she knows because of course.

And of course he also immediately recognises her even though he's kinda dizzy and losing blood. They start talking. Not really about them but light things because Abby needs to keep Tommy awake and he's fading so she tries to keep his attention. So she tells him she's sent the 118, they're his old house right, but lots of new faces, actually she used to date his replacement and then broke his heart by walking away from him. And he laughs kinda pained. Actually, so did he. She pauses for a moment, then demands clarification so Tommy starts talking. And he tells the whole story for the first time since the break up, including the reasons. Some of them he doesn't even mention because it's Abby. Abby who maybe knows him best in the whole world because she's known him at his worst and somehow still loved him.

And Abby listens. And when he's finally done she let's out a long sigh and calls him a dumbass. And then she gets to setting his head straight. She gives him a proper dressing down and gets to the bottom of it. And finally she asks him if he regrets it. Yes. If he loves Buck. If course he does. If he wants him back.... Yeah. So she tells him to work for it, to fight for them. And when she's done giving him a passionate little monologue about love and relationships silence falls.

She calls his name. No answer, only sirens in the distance.

She calls his name again, more frantically and he's still not replying and now she's in tears because they can't both break Buck's heart like that, one of them has to fucking fix it!

Meanwhile the 118 has been racing towards the crash site, Buck antsy but determined and refusing to stay by the rig and let Eddie and Ravi handle it. Tommy needs him.

When they finally arrive it's a complete nightmare, debris and fire everywhere and they're taking far too long to cut Tommy out. Long enough for the TV crews to arrive and start broadcasting the whole thing live.

So Abby, still on the line with an unresponsive Tommy, hoping, praying, is watching Taylor Kelly report live from the crash site where the firefighter have started ripping through the remains of the helicopter. Until Bobby steps in front of the camera and forces them to shut it off because he has no idea what they're going to find there.

Which is also why he eventually makes the decision to pull Buck back after all. Between Eddie, Ravi, Hen and Chim there are enough hands already anyway, they've got him, Buck.

So that's how Taylor Kelly, who's still a bit pissed at Bobby for ruining her news piece, watches Buck disappear between the engine and the ladder truck looking like his world is collapsing and he might be her ex but of course she still cares. It's Buck, how can you not care about him? So she follows him and finds him just as he's breaking down. And she has no idea what's going on, she simply pulls him into a hug and let's him cry it out.

And when he csn breathe again he tells her. That's the love of his life there. His name is Tommy and he dumped him three months ago after he asked him to move in. And they both smile weakly before he continues.

He never told him. He only ever told her, and he didn't lie, he promises but it's never felt like this. And he never told him that he loved him.

Loves him.

And she says that maybe he should do that now then and nods at something behind him.

And there are Chim and Hen and Ravi and Eddie running towards the parked vehicles, pushing a gurney. And there's Bobby yelling for Buck to come get his ass into the ambulance, they have to leave right now.

And Taylor smiles and wipes his tears away and gives him a push. Go. Go and fight and tell him what you told me.

And he does.

[evilminji]

Ya'll remember Ace? Bat-hound?

No WAY Cujo became a Ghost and He did not.

Is he a little lost? Maybe. This is not his beautiful home. This is not his beautiful, maladjusted, Bat Family. Who are you people!? Where IS he!? This place is FAR to cheerful and green to be Gotham!

But he is Bat-Hound. A PROFESSIONAL. A HERO. He can handle this. He just has to track his humans down... through... whatever this is. If Krypto can fly, bless his mostly empty, hyperactive head, then so could he! It can't be THAT har-*Thwonk!*

.....no one saw that.

But what's this? A helpful young pup? Cujo you say. Ah, he too, was once a gaurd dog. Cujo, lad, he seems to be lost. Could you...? You WILL! Fantastic. But wait? You're worried about your Young Human?

*Bat Concern Rising* *Doggy eye squint*

WHY?

*cujo spills the frankly horrifying beans about Danny's home life*

.........ha ha, NOPE! We can be having THAT! He's coming too! Bruce LOVES young humans! Especially sassy ones. He'll adopt him in no time! You grab the older one's, I'll grab the baby. Then we can head home, yes? You'll love gotham! Plenty of scoundrels to chase!

Cut to the Bat family. Damian is training Titus in the yard. Rare sun-ish day. It's a cook out. The Kent's are over. When?

Titus and the Supers both perk up. You hear that? Somethings about to-

*reality RIPS* *Ace the Bat Hound, dead for over a decade, jumps through... THE SIZE OF A HORSE. He is holding a struggling small preteen girl in his mouth* *Splat*

He dropped her. Eeeeeeew! She is loudly protesting. There is a SECOND dog. Green. Two more teens, clearly related to the first. Dumped on Bruce's lawn.

Ace looks proud of himself. Shrinks to normal size and pads over. Plops down in front of Bruce like he'd never left, tail wagging. Still in costume. He's glowing.

The burgers burn on the grill. No one can bring themselves to notice or care. Damian is elated. Krypto is fly wrestling is bestest buddy. Bruce is having a nervous breakdown over his dead dog.

Clark is calling their co-workers and trying to STOP the nervous break down.

Lois is just feeding the strage kids the dogs brought. Asking some casual "I'm totally not an investigative reporter" type questions. Who wants chips? Have a towel.

Ace? Is a Good Boy. 🐶

@hypewinter @hdgnj @nerdpoe @ailithnight

[heart4caitlin]

ALL MINE / caitlin clark

cw: nsfw , um yeah

a/n: for @pbnbucks ... you're welcome. not proofread

shes heavy on squirting oh my god. her fingers make you squirt so much she loves it

loved holding hands during sex. eating you out, you eating her out, missionary? all holding hands during it

i will always talk about this, but overstimulation!! she loves the way youre gasping for air and whining out her name

heavy on edging as well. especially after you've pissed her off for that day and she's just sick of your attitude. gets you to the point where tears are running down your face as you cry because you want to cum

loves going down on you. just wants to please you so much because youre her pretty lil girlfriend

leaves so many marks on you to show you off<3

loves missionary, she loves seeing your face when shes making you cum just because of her strap or fingers. tears running down your face as she fucks you so deeply. holds your chin or throat to force you to look at her while you or her are cumming

i have to come back to her eating you out. god she loves it so much. forcing your hips and thighs down so you can't move away from her as she sucks on your clit. can't stop even when you're sobbing for her to let up on you because you're so sensitive

you're just so sweet and she wants to please you all the time

moving on.

you going down on her instead...

holding her thighs down as your fingers make her squirt again

she's loud, i do not care what anyone else says. she will have something to say about every thing that happens. she will be moaning your name so loud while you eat her out

making her squirt please!! gets her so whiney that all she can do is gasp while she stares down at you

her with a breeding strap lowkey....

i like that idea tbh

her taking you in missionary as she whispers sweet things to you. asking you if you want her to fill you up with her cum

rutting against you as your overstimulated just so she can get herself off

[specialagentartemis]

godddddd i have disliked becky chambers' work since long way to a small angry planet and I agree that that fish scene is SO much of what is wrong with contemporary SFF especially queer SFF. refreshing take, great review, thank you. would love to hear what authors or works you think of as the antidote to that sensibility.

The thing is, I enjoyed The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet when I first read it - it was a fun, light adventure, clearly a debut novel but I was excited to see where Chambers would go from there. And I actually really do think the sequel, A Closed and Common Orbit, was good! It did interesting things with AI personhood and identity.

... and then Chambers just kinda. Did not get better. She settled into a groove and has a set number of ideas that I feel like she hasn't broken out of, creatively. And they I M O kind of rest on an assumption that "human nature" = "how people act in suburban California."

As an antidote to that sensibility, I'd say... books where people have a real interrelationship with the land they inhabit, a sense of being present, and reciprocal obligations to that land; books that recognize that some things can never be taken back once done; books with well-drawn characters, where people have strong opinions deeply informed by their circumstances, that can't always be easily reconciled with others, and won't be brushed aside; books where these character choices matter, they impact each other, they cannot be easily gotten over, because people have obligations to each other and not-acting is a choice too.

And it's only fair that after all day of being a Hater I should rec some books I really did like.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke - A man lives alone in an infinite House, over an equally infinite ocean. Captures the feeling that I think Monk & Robot was aiming for. Breathtaking beauty, wonder at the world, philosophy of truth, all that good stuff, and actually sticks the landing. The main character's love, attention, and care to his fantasy environment shows through in every page. (Fantasy, short novel)

Imperial Radch by Ann Leckie - An AI, the one fragment remaining of a destroyed imperial spaceship, is on a quest for revenge. Leckie gets cultural differences and multiculturalism, and conversely, what the imposition of a homogeneous culture in the name of unity means. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

Machineries of Empire by Yoon Ha Lee - An army captain's insubordination is punished by giving her a near-impossible mission: to take down a rebelling, heretical sect holing up in a space fortress and defying imperial power. She gets a long dead brain-ghost of a notorious criminal downloaded into her head to help. Very, very good at making you feel like every doomed soldier was a person with a past, with a family, with feelings, with hopes and dreams and frustrations and favorites and preferences and reasons to live, right before they brutally die in a space war. Also very much about the imposition of homogeneity of culture as a force of imperialism. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

The Fortunate Fall by Cameron Reed - Maya Andreyevna is a VR journalist in high-tech dystopian future Russia, and she decides to investigate the truth that the government doesn't want her to. She might die trying. It's fine. Also has digital brain-sharing, this time in a gay way. It's bleak. It's sad. It feels real. Not making a choice is a choice. Backing out is a choice. And choices have consequences. Choices reverberate through history. About responsibility. (Cyberpunk, novel)

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez - Nia Imani is a spaceship captain, a woman out of time, a woman running from her past, and accidentally adopts a boy who has a strange power that could change the galaxy. Spaceship crew-as-found-family in the most heartbreaking of ways. Also about choices, how the choices you make and refuse to make shape you and shape the world around you. How the world is always changing around you, how the world does not stay still when you're gone, and when you come back you're the same but the world has moved on around you. About how relationships aren't always forever, and that doesn't mean they weren't important. About responsibility to others. It's a slow, sad book and does not let anyone rest on their laurels, ever. There is no end of history here. Everything is always changing, on large scales and small, and leaving you behind. (Space sci-fi, novel)

Dungeon Meshi / Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui - A D&D style fantasy dungeon crawl that stops to think deeply about why there are so many dungeons full of monsters and treasure just hanging around. Here because it's an example of an author thinking through her worldbuilding a lot, and it mattering. Also because of the characters' respect for the animals they are are killing and eating, their lives and their place in the ecosystem, and the ways that humans both fuck up ecosystems with extraction and tourism, but also the ways that you can have reciprocal relationships of responsibility and care with the ecosystem you live in, even if it's considered a dangerous one. (Fantasy, manga series)

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang and How Long 'Til Black Future Month by N. K. Jemisin and Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel by Julian K. Jarboe - Short story anthologies that were SO good and SO weird and rewired the way I think. If you want the kind of stuff that is like, the opposite of easy-to-digest feel-good pap, these short stories will get into your brain and make you consider stuff and look at the world from new angles. Most of them aren't particularly upbeat, but there's a lot of variety in the moods.

"Homecoming is Just Another Word for the Sublimation of the Self," "Calf Cleaving in the Benthic Black," and "Termination Stories for the Cyberpunk Dystopia Protagonist" by Isabel J. Kim - Short stories, sci-fi mostly, that twist around in my head and make me think. Kim is very good at that. Also about choices and not-making-choices, about going and staying, about taking the easy route or the hard one, about controlling the narrative.

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells - Security robot with guns in its arms hacks itself free from its oppressive company, mostly wants to half-ass its job but gets sucked into drama, intrigue, and caring against its better judgement. This is on here because 1) I love it 2) I feel like it does for me what cozy sff so frequently fails to do - it makes me feel seen and comforted. It's hopeful and compassionate and about personal growth and finding community and finding one's place in the world, without brushing aside all problems or acting like "everybody effortlessly just gets along" is a meaningful proposal. also 3) because it is one of the few times I have yet seen characters from a hippie, pacifistic, eco-friendly, welcoming, utopian society actually act like people. The humans from Preservation are friendly, helpful, and motivated by truth and justice and compassion, because they come from a friendly, just, compassionate society, and they still actually act like real human beings with different personalities and conflicting opinions and poor reactions to stress and anger and frustration and fear and the whole range of human emotions rather than bland niceness. Also 4) I love it (space sci-fi, novella series mostly)

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

[sweetbans29]

Marked - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin loves to mark you up (based on THIS request)

Warnings: possessiveish Caitlin?, suggestive

Word Count: 1.8k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: When I tell you she can't keep her hands to herself...

Caitlin has you pinned between her and your kitchen counter, one hand on your hip while the other is holding the right side of your neck. She has one of her legs wedged between your two and uses her body to make sure you have no where to go. Her lips attached to your neck, just the start of where she wants them to be.

You moan when she reaches the sweet spot that she knows oh so well as your hands slide under her shirt to rest on her stomach. Caitlin smiles into your skin knowing she has you exactly where she wants you.

"No marks," you say breathlessly. Your words hold empty threats that blow right by Cait's ears. She could care less about your lack of wanting mark because they are her favorite.

"Don't," she kisses your neck. "Tell," she bites. "Me," she uses her tongue to sooth the spot over. "What," she kisses down your shoulder. "To," she moves her leg to come flush with your center making your moan and buck your hips into her. "Do," she says holding you back in place.

You let out a whine as she continues to feast on your skin. You let her lips roam wherever they want until you hear your phone ring and you are brought back to reality. You remove your hands from your girlfriend and go to answer it.

"Hi Katie," you say into the phone. Caitlin comes and wraps her arms around you from behind, not happy that her time with you was cut short.

"Ahh! Good, I got you!" Katie says. "I have a huge favor to ask."

Caitlin's hands are on your stomach, fingers dipping under the waistband of your shorts as her lips do work on the back of shoulder. You bring your hands to meet hers, giving them a warning slap.

"What's up?" You ask.

"Would you be willing to watch Aliya for a few hours? I have some errands I need to run before practice," she says.

"Of course!" You say as you walk away from Caitlin. "I would love to watch her."

"You are the best," Katie says. "I can swing her by in the next hour if that is okay?"

"Sounds great," you say, "Auntie CC is also here so she will be more than entertained."

"Great, thanks again," Katie says before hanging up.

"Katie is dropping Aliya off before practice," you tell Cait.

"But what about our time?" Cait says with a little pout.

"It is still our time, it is just our time with Aliya," you say with a smile.

"But I won't be able to do everything I want to do with her here," Caitlin says wrapping her arms around you again. She buries her face in your neck placing a gentle kiss on one of marks she left on you before being interrupted.

"You have me all the time," you say with a little laugh. Your arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Want you more," she muffles into your neck. You get a glimpse of the two of you in your living room mirror and gasp.

"Caitlin Clark," you say swatting her shoulder. You move past her to look at the trail of marks she has left down your neck and on your shoulder. Your fingers brush up against them all and you whip your head around to see a confident smirk on her lips.

"I said no marks," you scold her. "Now I have to go cover them up."

Caitlin doesn't say anything, her smirk saying it all. You finish covering them up right as Katie rings the door. Cait is the first one to greet them.

"Look who it is!" Caitlin says with joy as she takes Aliya from Katie Lou.

"Thank you again for doing this, I won't have time after practice and Devin won't be back until tonight. I owe you one," Katie says. You look over to see Caitlin already playing with Aliya on the floor.

"It really is no problem," you say. "We will bring her to practice for you."

Once Katie Lou leaves you join Caitlin and Aliya on the floor. The three of you play for a little before getting a snack ready for Aliya.

"See, you love your time with Aliya," you say to Caitlin as you watch how much Aliya adores playing with Cait.

"I never said I didn't love my time with her," Caitlin says. "I love my time with little miss Aliya-bear, isn't that right?" Caitlin tickles Aliya's stomach which has the little girl giggling.

You bring Aliya her bottle and begin to feed her. Once she is finished, you burp her and begin to rock her. She goes down seamlessly for a nap and you being to prep for practice.

"Someday we will have a little one," Caitlin says with a smile on her face.

"You will have to learn how to share first," you say jokingly.

"What do you mean? I know how to share," Cait says defensively.

You give her a look. You both know she is not good at sharing, especially when it came to you.

"Sure you do babe," you say going to her and giving her a peck on the lips. You pull away and continue getting ready as Cait pouts.

"Just a peck?" She asks.

"Yes, just a peck. If i give you anything more, it would lead to something we shouldn’t do with a child in the home," you say.

"How do you think Aliya got here?" Caitlin says and you roll your eyes.

"No Caitlin," you say.

You find yourself pinned between Caitlin and your bed when you should be getting ready to head out for the game but once Caitlin starts she is a hard one to turn off.

Cait's lips are currently putting in work on your thighs. You had already managed three rounds and Caitlin wasn't finished. Your whole body was a canvas to her, she wanted to mark up every part. And she did, mark up every inch of skin she wanted to.

"Cait, no more," you whine not knowing how you are suppose to play a game after the last hour.

"Okay baby," Caitlin says sweetly as she begins to kiss up your body, leaving her last few marks. She stops right under your right breast, one of her favorite spots. You let out a soft moan.

"Just love hearing your make those sounds, just for me," she says placing gentle kisses on all the marks she so proudly left on you. She looks down and knows you will need to wear both leg sleeves and a long sleeve under your uniform for the game. She prefers that you don't, wanting the whole world to know that your hers but the two of you haven't announced your relationship yet.

"Wouldn't make them for anyone else," you sigh as her lips meet yours one last time. You look up at her and can't help but smile.

"You are beautiful," you say as your hands come to cup her face. A light blush creeps into her cheeks.

You look over to your bed side table and see that you need to be leaving in les than 20 minutes. You begin to panic as you don't want to be late and quickly get ready.

The two of you head out the door and head to Gainbridge. You had opted for a comfortable tunnel fit as it was a gloomy and cold evening. Once you got into the locker room and removed your hoodie and sweatpants did all hell break loose.

You felt someone grab your arm and spin your around.

"Oh. My. Are you okay?" Lexie asks looking over your body. You give her a questioning look.

"Looks like you got mauled by a bear or something," Nalyssa says. "Look at your thighs!"

Your once questioning face turns into a mortified one as you realized you had just showed your team the damage Caitlin had done prior to the game. You try to cover yourself up but now Erica is by you holding your other arm.

"Damn girl, you were someones snack," Erica says with a laugh as your face turns even more red than it already was.

"I didn't know you were dating someone!" Lexie yells, slightly offended that you hadn't told her sooner.

"We were trying to keep in under wraps," you say quietly.

"Ain't nothing under wraps here," Erica says laughing. "I should report this as abuse."

"I'm not being abused," you say immediately.

"So who is the one devouring you?" Nalyssa asks with a quirked eyebrow. You don't mean to but your eyes shift over to Caitlin who has a proud smirk on her face. Your eyes dart away from her almost immediately but not fast enough.

"CLARK???" Erica yells as she runs over and squeezes her shoulders, jumping up and down. "Caitlin is the freaky one!"

You sit in your chair, sinking as low as you can go before falling out of it.

"I will neither confirm or deny your allegations," Cait says with a giant smile on her face.

"Oh it is so Clark," Aliyah says with a smile. "Do you see how proud of those marks she is, girl is showing off."

You are relieved that the team knows about you and Caitlin but really wish it was done is a different way. You were never going to live this down.

"You are going to need these," Lexie says handing you a set of leg sleeves and a compression long sleeve.

"Thanks," you mumble and put them on.

Caitlin comes over and tries to wrap her arms around you but you push her away.

"Don't even think about it Clark," you say.

"Ooooo, Caitlin's in trouble," Nalyssa teases. The team laughs then goes about getting ready.

"I'm sorry baby," Caitlin whispers to you.

"You're not sorry," you mutter as you throw on your jersey.

"You're right, I'm not," she says with a smirk. "Gotta show them who you belong to, all mine."

"Ya well, you get none until every single one of these marks are gone," you say.

"That's not fair," she fights.

"I said no marks," you fight back.

"You know I can't help myself," she says. "Plus now everyone knows so it isn't a big deal."

You shake your head and begin to walk away from her to go warm up. She grabs your arm and pulls you back into her.

"It's not my fault you taste so sweet," she says kissing your neck.

"Caitlin Clark!" You yell and push her away. "We are now going to practice abstinence."

"Absolutely not," Caitlin says.

"Oh ya? Try me," you say, now the one wearing the smirk.

AN: Okay this was a little too fun to write. I hope you enjoy and make sure to let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[theocddiaries]

Bruce: Clark! Where are you, honey? I need to talk to you. Clark: What is it? Bruce: Do you know what our daughter did? Clark [Points at a sleepy Cass]: Nothing. She's fine. She's reading. Bruce: No, not her. Steph! Stephanie! Come over here. I want to talk to you. Clark: There she is. Not a scratch on her. Bruce: Do you have something you want to say to us? Stephanie: Uh… Bruce: Mmm… let me help you out here. Fake I.D.s? Clark: What?! Bruce: Mm-hmm. Stephanie tried to get her and her friends some fake I.D.s. Steph: I wasn't gonna use them for drinking. We just wanted to get into this club to see a band. Bruce: She took a bunch of money from them and then she lost it. Clark: How much? Cass: $900… Bruce: You're kidding me!? Steph: It's not my fault! I gave money to this guy. He's the one who ripped us off. [Damian comes in, with a black eye] Bruce: …What happened to your face? Damian: I ran into a door. Bruce [Stern]: What happened to your face? Damian: Clark hit me. Bruce: What?! Clark: It was an accident. I was trying to open up a band-aid for his arm! Bruce: His arm too?! Damian: That was all me, I swear. [Cassandra falls to the side, asleep on the couch] Bruce: …What's wrong with her? Clark: …Growth spurt. Bruce [Stern]: What's wrong with her? Clark: …I drugged her. Bruce: Clark! Clark: I accidentally gave her the nighttime allergy medicine. Bruce: Ugh… Okay. All right, one thing at a time. Stephanie, how are you going to repay your friends? Steph: I don't know… Jason: She needs the money back. Who is this kid? Steph: A guy at school's cousin's friend. He lives in Gardena. Dick: Well, if you know where he lives, just call the police. Clark: No cops. We can't afford a scandal right now. Your dad's running for town council. Bruce: That was before, when I thought you could take care of the children. I take my eye off the ball for one minute, and I've got one in a coma, one with a black eye, and one running a crime ring. Jason: Well, to be fair, Steph started her crime ring when your eye was still on the ball.

[yandereunsolved]

✐ᝰ Yandere Clark Kent 'Superman' ᝰ.ᐟ

Alien, farmer, reporter, superhero, and Justice League member are all titles Clark has collected over the years. They stretch from the most mundane to the ones that are given the highest respect. All of these titles pale in comparison to the one he yearns for the most: to be your husband. Every one of his positive traits seemed to disintegrate when it came to you, his accomplishments and status along with them. He was simply Clark to you, not Superman or Kal-El.

He was nothing but a love-sick maniac at your feet. His obsession threatens to break the moral code he is so devoted to. He understands that his attraction to you is something unhealthy and taboo. He is a beacon of light in the darkness of the world. Yet he'd be willing to blind the entire world with light just to be acknowledged by you. He'd cut out his own heart and present it in a gift box with a red bow if it'd please you.

You—just a human reporter who works at the Daily Planet. You who lives in a small studio apartment. You who has aspirations of doing something greater than just writing opinion pieces. You who has captured the noble hero's heart. 

You, you, you, you, you, you, you.

He can't get enough.

He doesn't get enough of you. You seem to actively avoid him. You interact with Lois so cordially; you two are close friends. He works with Lois. Why are you giving him the cold shoulder?

He knows everything about you. He knows your favorite restaurant, where you go to de-stress, your schedule, your hobbies, and your fantasies. He's spent so much time learning about you. You've learned nothing about him except for the fact that he's your dorky, sweet co-worker.

"Are you staring at them again? How long have you been staring at them? Why do you keep staring at them? Do you have a crush on them!?" Lois interrogates him with that same curiosity kindling in the back of her violet eyes.

He could demolish buildings in an instant, but he couldn't control his pale complexion from being invaded by a red hue. He had to think for a moment. His words had become lost in his mind, like they had been dispersed among the cosmos. He stuttered at first. It felt so out of character for him. He always, well, almost always, knew what to say. 

He had to be careful around her. He's lucky that he has been clever enough to keep his obsessive tendencies under wraps until Lois leaves his side.

"I just want to know why they refuse to talk to me." His words were laced with truth. Still, he was dodging her questions, as always.

Lois huffs in irritation, like he just said the most asinine thing one could ever utter.

"They obviously like you. They just think you're way out of their league."

"What?" He deadpans.

"I never give you the inside scoop about your darling little crush, but this one time I may." She teases him. "Clark, they like you. The googly eyes you two make at each other are such an obvious indication that you both are totally whipped for each other."

"You're serious?" His pupils dilate to such an extensive degree that you would have thought he was getting them checked by an optometrist. A lump forms in this throat, twice the size of his Adam's apple. "They like me?"

"They more than like you. They are interested in you, and you should totally ask them out on a date. I have to help a friend out, y'know? You two would make such a cute couple." Lois's pitch in her voice had become so much higher; even with her evident giddiness, there was an undertone of sulleness.

"Hey!" Lois calls you over. She waves her arm around and points towards Clark.

You scurry over in your flattering work outfit. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to eye you like a forbidden sweet. Still, he could feel his clothes grow tighter and his palms become sweaty. You couldn't even look him in the eyes. He wanted to gently tilt your chin up so your eyes would meet his. He'd eat a lump of kryptonite just for you to glance at him with that love-lorn expression. If only you knew, he could show; no, he has to show—

"You and him are going to go undercover in a local cafe a few blocks from here." He's snapped from his never-ending supply of thoughts about you. "It's supposedly a cover for a notorious drug cartel. Your cover story will be that you're a young couple going out on a date."  

You glance at Lois and eagerly nod. His words don't register your reply, but from Lois's grin, you obviously said something along the lines of yes. You walk off once again, your eyes sweeping across the aged carpet covering the office floor. Once out of hearing distance, Lois turns back to him.

"You're welcome. You owe me one." Lois nudges him in the side.

He could die a happy man now.

[keenzinemugstudent]

Clark x Black goth reader! Smut! A not so secret quickie!

Warning ⚠️ ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS THIS IS A SMUT SO ADULTS ONLY PLS⚠️

Lana hears strange noises in the art room and goes to investigate.

"Where Clark?"

Chole asked looking around not seeing the farm boy Lana just shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm not sure I saw him earlier though he seemed really out of it."

"Well that's weird."

"Oh I forgot my bag you go on without me!"

As Lana was walking through the hall way she heard noises coming from in the art room hmm maybe it was the janitor? She goes to check it out what she didn't expect was to see you and Clark.

He was holding your hands softly you stood in front of him looking at ground face full of worry. Lana could see you looked troubled she was about to walk in and see if everything was okay until you spoke.

"Clark I don't think this is a good idea.."

"Oh come on Y/n you promised!"

"I know it's just- this is embarrassing!"

You try to move from his reach but he grabs your hand a pout on his face.

"I promise we won't get caught. You don't have to worry so much."

"Clark it's almost the end of the day can't you just ya'know wait than?"

"I can't! I've been waiting for this since third period if I wait anymore I'll go nuts!"

Lana had no idea what was going on what was Clark trying to get you to do? He sounded pretty desperate. She had noticed in class that he kept looking at the clock for lunch to start but just to see you? She heard you let out a surprised gasp Lana leaves from her thoughts only to see Clark pick you up to sit on the teachers desk your face was flustered you put your hands on his chest starring up at the handsome farm boy.

"What if someone catches us?!"

"Y/n please just focus all your attention on me okay?"

You let out a small shaky sigh as his hands slowly move down your hips to your thighs to your knees gently spreading your legs open so he could easily stand between them which caused Lana's face to become warm. What exactly was she seeing? Why was Clark touching you like that?!

He leans down to gently kiss your forehead than your cheek than to your lips making Lana cover her own in surprise, you close your eyes shyly kissing him back holding his arms, you wanted to be strong and not give in but when he kissed you everything else didn't matter anymore.

"Is it okay for us to keep going?"

You was hesitant but nod your head Clark gives you a smile, gently grabs your face to kiss while you start lift up his shirt that was always kept tucked you unbutton his shirt to show his well toned stomach making you bite your lip he was just so damn hot it was ridiculous! You rub his chest going down to his stomach to his pants zipper he lets out a low groan as you grazed his front pants touching his already hardened cock making you giggle.

"Wow you really weren't kidding huh?"

"What can I say you make me excited"

They both give a small laugh than go back to kissing all you could hear was lips and moans around the empty classroom. Lana was still hiding behind the door face red still not understanding what was going on the whenever she saw you two together it was always a friendly interaction, Clark would say "Hi" to you in the hallway and you'd shyly wave back at him before running off somewhere.

Lana that it was weird because you were the quiet goth girl and he was the shy but friendly farm boy you both weren't friends or so she thought but than she remembered when she saw Clark and you at his mom's flower shop once and you two were talking and laughing she had noticed you were holding red roses. Than the next couple days at school she and Chole always saw a red rose either on your locker or on your desk. Whenever somebody would try to question you about it you'd always just shrug your shoulders not knowing who it was, then you'd go the whole day with a smile on your face.

Did that mean that Clark had been the one to give you those roses???

"Ah C-clark!"

Lana looks and could see Clark's hand going under your skirt you try to stop him but could only give out a weak moan as his fingers entered you...Clark freaking Kent was fingering you in the art class.

"Clark baby please! Oh you know I'm sensitive down there!"

He just shh you by kissing you again muffling your cries of pleasure while still rubbing your clit in circles

"You said you'd give me anything if I passed that test I got a A+ all that studying really paid off huh?"

You try to speak but could only moan and whimper as his fingers started to speed up. You were so wet that you could hear it making you hide your face in his shoulder trying to quiet the embarrassing noises.

Lana could feel herself getting wet just from the sight. To say she was jealous was an understatement she couldn't believe that Clark was doing this in school of all places! and to you of all people you were always so quiet but nice enough Lana didn't think you two had THAT kind of relationship!

"Y/n I want you to cum... think you can do that for me sweetheart?"

He whispers in your ear kissing your cheek. You couldn't say anything but nod holding on to his arms moving your hips trying to make his fingers go deeper into your pussy.

"Y-yes! oh god yes yes! I'll cum just please Clark don't stop!"

You sounded so needy Clark moves his fingers faster and deeper making loud moans leave your mouth not even caring if anyone walk by and hear you (too late for that)

Lana should not still be here why was she even still watching this?! It was something private between you two so why the hell was she still here?! Just as you so close to your release suddenly Clark stopped his movements causing you to look up at him with teary eyes upset that he didn't let you cum.

"W-why'd you stop?"

He just moves hair from your forehead to kiss your upper brow removing his fingers making you whimper from the lose, Clark reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a a condom.

Lana went wide as she saw Clark start to pull down his pants revealing himself Lana's mouth was wide open in shock but you just let out low moan rubbing your legs together feeling yourself getting wetter at the sight as he put on the condom even though you've seen it multiple times he just looked so damn good!

Main while Lana nearly passed out when she saw how big Clark was jesus even Whitney wasn't that big! There was no way Y/n would be able to take him! Right?

Clark got closer to you his forehead touching yours once again hands going under your skirt to remove your red underwear he grabs your hips pulling you closer you wrap your arms around his neck kissing under his jaw leaving light hickeys and black lipstick stains on him biting his ear. You looked towards Lana's direction making her freeze on the spot, thinking she'd been caught but you give an annoyed sigh you were looking up at the clock on the wall.

"Clark baby I'm sorry but we're are out of time."

He looked at his watch and saw that you were right but he just shook his head.

"We still have more time."

He spread your legs rubbing himself against your wet heat, you both let out loud gasp as he slowly pushed himself inside you stretching you out, once he was fully inside he stood still all you could hear in the room was their heavy breathing.

"I'm going to start moving okay?"

You were so lost in pleasure all you could give him was just give a lazy nod, he starts to slowly moving his hips letting out a shaky breathe even though this wasn't the first time you two had sex, he was always careful with you seeing as he accidentally left hand marks on your legs once and Chole saw it thinking someone had hurt your since than he always tries to be careful with you but God it was so hard there was just something about you made him crazy!

You lay your back on the desk gently moving your hips enjoying the feeling of him inside you but it was so hot that you had to remove your shirt making Clark give a low growl at the sight of your breasts and your blood red bra the one thing Clark loved most about having sex (making love but he won't say it out loud yet)

Was seeing your chest they were just so perfect! that's when he realized he was wasting time and need to speed this up so he leaning his body nearly covering you and moved his hips faster making your eyes go wide at the usual change of pace.

"W-wait Clark no wait please! Not so fast please! I can't oh god!"

He just ignored your cries of mercy and just moved his hips even faster, skin hitting against skin both of you panting heavily you arch your back off the desk mouth wide open cries of pleasure leaving your mouth. Clark just hugs you closer he grabs a hold of your ass than slapping it harshly making you let out a surprised cry of pain and pleasure. With how fast he was going your chest bounced at each thrust making you feel like you were seeing stars.

It didn't make it any better when he put his mouth on your left nipple gently sucking and bitting it making a small scream leave your mouth.

"Your doing so good for me Y/n."

All you could do was give a him a whine and wrap your shaking legs around his hips in a desperate attempt to pull him closer and deeper in your poor weeping pussy.

Lana was still watching the two lovers go at it like animals in heat she got up slowly legs shaking gave a low quiet moan as she could feel underwear wet. She had to get out of there and hopefully try to forget the scene she just witnessed.

By the end of the day Lana saw you and Clark again but this time he was helping you walk too his trunk you were limping and your makeup was a mess and you still looked flustered Clark he looked fine??? I mean his clothes was a bit ruffled but he looked okay.

"Wow I wonder what happened to Y/n?"

Lana didn't say anything but blush red not being able to say anything to Chole. The only thing she could think was Y/n was one lucky girl.

I'm probably going to hell for writing this aren't I?

[live-laugh-lenney]

Can you please do a fic where the reader and George Clarke absolutely hate each other they always argue but she’s best friends with Chris, and she goes on a night out her girl friends leave her and she’s drunk and scared men are hitting on her hard so decides to ring Chris but he’s asleep and George answers his phone and comes picks you up it ends up them two arguing but also something where they hook up (wether that’s the same night or different) please??

the ending to this feels almost rushed but i know i've promised this a few times... let me know what you think!

"come on."

the words come out of yn's mouth as a low grumble but it was loud enough to catch the attention of the guy stood beside her in the pub's smoking area. the time on her phone said it was quarter to two in the morning, the street on the otherside of the road was empty and baron of people walking passed, and the pub was becoming less and less busy as people got into their taxi's and uber's and went off home to nurse hangovers in the morning.

yet, here she was.

stuck in the middle of the london, all by herself and in a vulnerable state, as she tried to call the one guy she wanted to see in her moment of need. her best friend. who was, no doubt, asleep because he was sensible and chose to stay in that night rather than spending it getting drunk.

"everything okay?"

"yeah," she mumbles it lowly to show her disinterest, her eyes staring at the screen of the phone in her hand as she scrolled through all of her contacts to find christopher dixon's home number because calling him mobile number hadn't worked, "i just can't get hold of a friend, i kind of need him right now."

"can i be of any assistance?"

"no," she responds bluntly and she could feel the way he was taken aback by her abrupt answer, "i just want to go home. my friends have left me here by myself, i have no way of getting home and no one wants to answer their phones to help me."

"it is almost two in the morning."

"yeah, i know that," she scoffs it out sarcastically and she rolls her eyes, landing on the home landline to chris' flat, "no offence but i don't need any company right now. cheers but-"

"not just gon'a leave a pretty girl in a pub by herself," the guy says and, for the first time since she heard his voice, she looked at him - dressed in jeans that were too tight for his legs and a shirt that he definitely chose in hopes to pick up girls with the way he had his muscles on show - as she held her phone to her ear and listened to the dial tone beep through the speaker as the other end rung through the flat, "i'll take you home."

"yeah... no thanks," she shook her head, her face contorted with a look of pure disgust at the repulsive invitation he was insinuating; what had started out as a girl's night was always going to end as a girl's night, not leaving with a bloke she had never met before and waking up in an unknown bed the next morning. "We all know how that invitation ends and i'm not after that, thanks."

"oh, come on-"

"no," she shook her head and took a step to the side, furthering herself away from him to give him a hint of how she was over being nice to him and how she was over the conversation that she never wanted to start. her attention turning towards the phone that was warm against her ear. "answer the phone, idiot."

as she was about to give up and press the red button in the bottom corner, coming to terms with the fact that he was most probably asleep and completely dead to the world, the sound of someone picking up brought some comfort to her racing mind.

"hello?"

"chris, it's yn."

"newsflash, it's george. you know, one of the other guys who lives in this flat and got rudely woken up by this call."

"oh."

she gulps thickly, the lump in her throat aching, and she really wished she hadn't bothered. it wasn't that she hated goerge; it was the exact opposite... he hated her, for some reason, and she had no idea why. she wanted nothing more to be friends with him, making it three out of three successful friendships that she'd made through chris... except he was having none of it.

"i'm so sorry, i just-"

"i told you, babe, you can always come back with me."

yn's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to hold back the upset tears that were threatening to spill from how scared she was, the interruption making her lose her train of thought, and it was only when george spoke down the line that she felt a little intimidated.

"who's that?"

"just some guy-"

"is he bothering you?"

yn sighs and takes a glance out of the corner of her eye, checking to see if the guy was still standing close to her, already knowing that he was listening intently to her conversation and hadn't any plans to go elsewhere.

"yeah, a little," she responds and, on the other end of the line, she could hear him rustling around and moving in a pace that she could tell was quick and in a rush, "i just, my friends left me alone in this pub round the corner from waterloo and i'm all by myself right now and the pub is closing and i'm out the front and he's just here and i don't know who he is and-"

"okay, alright. i'm coming to get you, okay?"

"i don't want to be a bother, george," she heard him grunt back in response to her and she could feel a tear slip down her cheek, "i was trying to get hold of chris but-"

"chris would rip my bollocks off if he knew i didn't help you when you called. especially when you're on your own in london, drunk, with some creep standing with you."

"but-"

"i'm leaving now, okay? send me your location and i'll be there as soon as i can, yeah?"

she couldn't tell if it was the happiness to know she was being looked after or whether it was the scared feeling that had overcome her - or both - but she struggled to keep back the tears that were burning her eyes.

"thank you, george."

it came out as a wet sob and she didn't care if anyone who looked at her and thought she was too drunk and weird. her previous problem of being hit on by someone she'd never met before, the same guy, didn't seem to want to leave her as he slowly sipped on the pint he had poured into a plastic cup.

"just stay safe until i get there, okay? go find a bouncer or someone from the staff and just say your taxi is on its way. stay away from the guy who's bothering you and keep to places where people can see you."

-

"yn?"

her head snapped up from where she was staring at her phone, to see george walking quickly down the street , his hoodie pulled over his head and he'd matched loose cotton shorts with it yet skipped out on pulling socks on as he opted for sliders, because he was in a rush to leave the house and had no time for trainers.

"yn. that's such a pretty name," she heard the guy say but she was no longer interested in anything he had to say, moving from her place on the bench she had chosen to wait upon and grasping the strap of her bag upon her shoulder, "oh, babe, it's a shame you chose him over me. he's got nothing to give you."

george felt his fists curl up under his sleeves yet he chose to not make the situation worse for her.

"when a girl says no to you, she means no," george calls out over to him, staring with a look of dark anger behind his eyes, "back off and maybe try being less of a creep, lurking around drunk girls, and you might just get lucky."

"george-"

"come on," he grabs her hand and tugs her away from the direction of the pub, desperate to get her away from the stare of the guy that was bothering her, "why the hell didn't you call any of us sooner? you were there for how long, by yourself, before you realised?"

"not long," she admits, "i'd only just realised as they were kicking us all out. i went to look for them at the booth we were in and they'd left."

"how many times have we told you to not hang around with those girls? they've been nothing but trouble for you," he reminds her and she rolls her eyes, legs burning from trying to keep up with his long strides back to the tube station, "what kind of friends do that to their other friends? bad friends, yn. they're not your friends-"

"i'm not a child, george," she interrupts him and pulls her hand free from his grip, standing still in the middle of the pavement as he came to a halt from her sudden movement, "don't speak me to like i am one."

he sighs heavily and brings his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips before dropping his arms back down to his sides, watching as she swayed to and fro from the way her world must have been spinning from alcohol.

"alright," he held his hands up in surrender, "i'm sorry."

"you should be," she retorts, "stupid."

"don't backchat me like a teenager and i won't speak to you like a child," he insists and turns on his heels, wanting to hop back into the warmth of the underground station and get back home as soon as possible, "now come on, i want to go home."

"my home. take me home and then go home yourself."

"no, my home," george calls back, hearing her scuffing behind as she tried to keep up with his pace so she wasn't left behind and out of his sight, "i'm gonna look after you, you can have my bed, and you can talk to chris in the morning because he's gonna have some choice words for those girls."

"i don't need you to make me feel worse."

"i'm not trying to make you feel worse."

"you are."

"yn," george sighs, "i'm too tired to argue with you, okay? can we just, we just need to get on the tube, do a couple of stops, then we're home. i'll argue with you tomorrow."

"i don't want to argue with you anymore," she frowns, "i just want to be friends with you. i don't like it when you're angry all the time with me. i've done nothing to you to make you treat me so badly."

"we are friends, idiot."

"no, we aren't. you're always moaning at me, you never say anything nice to me. i'm surprised you even came to get me," yn says, "only you, george. every other one of chris' friend's like me... television is my favourite but you-"

"i do like you, yn," george sighs heavily, "but this is a conversation we don't need to be having in the middle of the road, outside the train station."

"i want to have this conversation-"

"no," george shakes his head, "it's a conversation for when you're sober and not full of whatever alcohol you've ended up spilling down yourself."

he stares at her for a moment and she squints her eyes back at him, in a feigned annoyed look, feeling the chill in the air and the alcohol mixing in her system and as well as her belly. and she couldn't bring it in her to argue even more.

"fine."

-

yn stumbles through the front door and into the darkness of the flat belonging to the boys and she was thankful she wore flats opposed to the heels that were her second choice shoe for the night. a click of the lock filled the quiet as george closed the front door behind him, keys jingling with his keyrings as he dropped them in the bowl in the entryway, shuffling further into the room. as she slid her shoes off, not knowing where she was leaving them, a lamp flicked on and she took in the living space around her.

"you could have taken me home."

"not a chance," george grumbles lowly, shrugging off the over-layer he chose to brave the night air and draped it over the back of the sofa in the middle of the room, "i think chris would have murdered me in my sleep."

"i wanted to go home."

"and i wanted to get a full night's sleep but here we are," george shrugs his shoulders and she folds her arms across her chest, like a child in a tantrum, "you can have my bed, i'll sleep on the sofa."

"george-"

"please don't argue with me, okay? i'm giving you my bed, don't make me change my mind," he warns her and the interruption was enough for her to close her lips and forget about what she was about to say to him, "i don't know what you think is happening between us but i do care about you, okay?"

she could hear her heartbeat pounding behind her chest in the quiet of the room and she looks at him, properly, for the first time that evening.

"you don't show it."

"i don't know how," he scoffs and it's more aimed at himself than at her, his feet take him across the stretch of empty space before he stands before her, "you're chris' best friend... i'm not going to be the one to step in the way and ruin that."

"you could have treated me better. spoke to me nicer. actually made me feel like you wanted me around."

"you're not listening, are you? i like you, you idiot."

for the first time that night, she couldn't find the words to come back to his response. she stared at him, dumbfounded, with wide eyes that couldn't tear away from the way he was walking towards her. and she didn't realise her mouth had gaped open until his hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb pushing her the bottom of her jaw, lingering his touch that had her tilting her head into his palm.

"but-"

"you've always got something to say, haven't you?" and if he didn't have a smile twitching at his lips, hidden beneath the growing facial hair that grew from his upper lip, she would have taken offence to his words, "i wanted this conversation with a sober yn. not slightly drunk, in a mood because her friends abandoned her, in the middle of the night and stood in the middle of my living room."

"you-" she gulps back the lump in her throat and he smiles softly, "i don't believe you."

"are you trying to push my buttons?" he asks her, the gap between them slowly closing, "because it's working."

"and what happens if i push the last one?"

"i think you know already," he says it so softly yet it held so much behind it and yn couldn't stop the tingle in her belly that brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin and the way his breath washed over her face, warm and minted from when he'd done his nightly routine before bed, had her weak at the knees, "go on, push it."

her eyes dart between his, that stayed focused on her face, and the way his lips looked so inviting and soft. teasing and taunting her. her tongue slipping out between her lips and licking her own because they felt dry.

"what if chris finds out?"

"you're a grown woman," george mumbles softly, "i think you can make your own decisions, huh?"

it's the first time she feels a tremble in her hands as she brings her arms up, resting her forearms on his shoulders and letting her fingers comb through the hairs at the back of his head. soft strands so gentle against her cold hands.

and george seizes the opportunity to test the waters of the situation by pressing his lips against hers in a peck, quick and messy, before he pulled away and waited for a response... a verbal response... yet it never came.

because it came in the form of a reciprocated kiss, fingers digging deeper into his hair as she pulled him closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as he brought her into his chest and held her tight in a hold that made her melt. he wanted her to have control, on her own terms, to test herself out in what was happening.

"chris is going to kill me," she says softly, "you guys were off limits."

"he'll get over it."

yn laughs softly and drops her forehead to his chest, his arms still tight around her waist and just couldn't let go of her, and there was a comfortable silence that swallowed the two of them. the previous moments playing on their minds.

"fancy sharing that bed tonight?"

he grins at her question, hearing the hidden desire in her voice, and presses a kiss to her head.

"i'd love that." x

[anjellaufeyson]

Hate with attraction - Bellamy Blake

I hated Bellamy and despised him since the beginning. He always had to counter my arguments and disagree with me on every move I made. Every step I took–he criticized. The feeling of hatred was mutual, I never failed to return the remarks he made.

           Bellamy brushed past as if I weren't there, yet he still managed to whisper, “You're falling behind.” 

           I picked up my pace as we walked through the forest. The whole hunting group was filled with all my friends–besides Bellamy. I shoved him almost into a tree, “Catch up soldier boy.” 

My best friend, Octavia turned around while walking, and Bellamy glared at me. “I get Bellamy is an ass but why can't you guys just get along?”

I could feel his stare on me, “Your brother started it on day 1 of coming back to earth. The power must’ve gone to his hollow head, can’t say more than that–” My words were cut off at the sound of arrows flying past us. 

“Grounders,” Bellamy yelled. 

Clarke and Monty spread out of their spot because that’s where most of the fire was, “Guys we have to split up! We all have intercoms so once it’s safe we’ll come back together.” 

Octavia reached for my hand but missed me by a couple of inches, an arrow grazed my palm and cut me, “Just go,” I yelled. She ran away but was hesitant. I was about to reach for my gun before a hand stopped me–Bellamy. 

“We have time to run, don’t waste your bullets.”

I crouched down with him so no one gets hurt again, “If you keep ordering me around, I’m about to waste one.” 

He groaned as he grabbed me and we both made a run for it, “Keep this shit up and maybe I’ll throw you to the grounders.” 

I pushed him off me as we walked into a tiny cave for cover, “I’d rather be with them than you,” I mumbled. 

“What was that princess,” he asked knowing he heard every word I said. His anger was pissing me off. He ripped a part of his shirt off and began wrapping it around my cut.

“I hate when you call me that.” He only called me that because my father is Kane and he won’t let go that I’m “privileged” just like Clarke. “I didn’t make the rules on the ship, It’s not my fault that–”

He pulled hard on the tie he was making causing me to wince in pain, “Don’t finish that sentence.” Bellamy glanced up at me then annoyingly back at my cut as he wrapped it to perfection–I hated how good he was at helping when I needed it. “I know it’s not your fault but your father and every privileged person on that ship let her die for what reason? Because she had one more kid?” 

“You know the rules,” I spoke lowly. It was a sensitive topic and even though I hated his guts and wouldn’t mind if he got floated, I did sympathize. I never liked what happened and the fact no one could have siblings. “The more space taken by more kids would’ve left us overpopulated Bell–” I paused when talking, his nickname Octavia slipped out so easily. 

He looked up at me whilst still holding my hand even though the t-shirt bandage was as good as it was going to get. “I’m sorry she was floated, but it was the rules. And you know the Ark was already overpopulated enough. That’s why they sent us down here in the first place, the stupid 100 who had to risk their criminalistic lives for the others.” This topic always got me upset, not sad but mad. My father, Jaha, and Clarke's mom, Abby, were all willing to risk our lives as if we were all test subjects. 

“We mean nothing to them, that’s why I was so hell-bent on making sure all of the 100 could survive.”

I rolled my eyes remembering this wasn’t a friend I was talking to, “No, Bellamy you wanted all of us to remove our locators so that you could make sure they didn’t come down here because your reckless ass shot Jaha. I understand it was for Octavia but don’t act as if you’re some hero.” 

He pressed down on my wound before dropping his hand, “I never said I was. You always think you’re better than me.” 

I went to punch Bellamy but he moved out of the way, I was always good at hand-to-hand, my father got me a trainer, one of the guards. I knew how to fight, shoot, plant, etc. I was built to survive as if he’s been planning this forever. I smiled as I ducked the attack he threw at me, “You can only stand your ground because of the training you and Lincoln did together.” I went to kick him but he caught my leg, kicks were the one thing I couldn’t get the hang of. 

“Learn to be faster, princess,” he had a tiny grin on his face as he twisted my leg so I was hopping. 

I’d never give him the satisfaction of beating me, I kicked my leg again and got out of his grip. I elbowed him and punched him. His lip began to bleed, he had a smile on his face as his finger touched his lip. “Better,” he whispered. 

I went to hit him again but he blocked it and turned me around and kicked behind my leg causing me to fall onto one knee. He grabbed my hair, not too rough to hurt me but enough to move my head so I’d look up at him. “Train more and maybe you’ll beat me.” 

Slowly I rose and hit him at his throat causing him to back up. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough so he’d fuck off. I regained enough strength to cause him to lose his balance, then I got him to hit his back onto the ground. I kept my knee on his chest as I looked down at him, “You’ll never beat me, Bellamy. And I don’t think I’m better than you–” Our breaths filled the cave, “I know I am.” 

I stayed with my knee on his chest until he gave me a look that I couldn’t comprehend. His lips parted and he moved in to kiss me. I don’t know why but I didn’t back away, I took my knee off of his chest slowly. His fingers slipped into my hair and he pulled me deeper in. He kissed me roughly and I could taste the hate he held for me. Then he pushed me with a betrayal of a smile, “Never let your guard down, princess.” 

I made myself look hurt, he stepped closer and I pulled him in for a kiss. He seemed hesitant but easily fell into it. I bit down on his lip causing him to wince in pain. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, blood was dripping more than before. 

I pushed him away from me, I hated him now more than before. But God, I’d kiss him again with hate once more if given the chance. “Never let your guard down, Bell.” 

Suddenly Octavia ran into the cave looking frantic, “Jesus, did the grounders attack you guys?” 

Bellamy and I shared a glance, I turned back to Octavia and smiled as if I wasn’t in pain. “No, no we made it out. Well not without one price to pay,” I said as I held my hand up. 

Octavia looked shocked, she now realized our words were no longer threats, they were promises. “Bellamy,” she said in confusion but also her annoyance was beginning to focus on both of us for being stupid enough to fight each other. “O,” he said while walking past her. I stopped walking so I could talk with Octavia. He turned to me and whispered, “Next time you won’t get off that easily.” I paused, next time?

[evilminji]

You Know How There Are Those AU? Where SUPER Injured Ghosts Need To Retreat To Their Core?

No one seems to be USING that to its fullest potential! For SHENANIGANS! Because! Who?? Could POSSIBLY carry a Halfa's Core safely... but another Halfa?! A FULL ghost would KILL them. A human would be killed! What terribly precarious peril we find ourselves in! Oh nooooooo!

Well, no worry!

As much as Dani fuckin HATES this. That there is her brother. Her Template. Her Clone Daddy and Bestest of Bros. Like HECK she's gonna let him suffer for centuries and possibly DIE. She can take it, Doc! Pop him in! We'll go road tripping and-

What do you MEAN "No"?

Unstable??! Of course she's unstable! But the-.... Oh.

Turns OUT? Dani? Can hitch a ride in DANNY for Emergency Medical Aid... but NOT the other way around. Her body is too loosely held together. He would parasiticly consume her from within. Instead of feeding off her Ecto System like injured ghosts are supposed too, because she's a CLONE? AND an unstable one at that? His Core would just... see her body as free ectoplasm. All of it.

He'd eat her.

Which mean Frostbite can not and WILL NOT allow that.

But he's HURT! That big, off screen, cataclysmic Fight To Save Everybody From *cough cough mumbles* and settle us all in the DC universe, REALLY messed him up! What are we supposed to DO!? He can't STAY like this!!!

Enter-> My FAVORITE DCxDP Trash Ship! Vlad&Lex!!! *horrified screaming from the crowds, someone shouts "oh god, no! Please!"* Ha! There are no gods here, silly billys! Only two terrible, terrible HIGHLY Dramatic, self serving, incredibly damaged, gay peacocks. In Business Suits that cost more then your house is worth.

They're AWFUL~♡

And! Vlad was sent ahead to lay the ground work. Insure there would be no GIWs. Also because no one could stand him and his EXTENSIVE criminal record. But that's besides the point.

But!

You know what he found? A Business Nemesis. Who he routinely dates and/or Dramatically Hate Fu-*coughs* I mean, attempts a Corporate Take Over(tm) off. You know how it is. Business. He ALSO gets to make it no secret he's a "Meta", thanks to the INCOMPETENCE of one Jack Fenton, because that- *seething rant*

Yet? Dispite his STILL burning hatred for Jack? And his finally letting go of Maddie? You know what he STILL wants?

For Danny to be his Son.

*Gets a call from Frostbite*

...............soooooo........ what you're SAYING is..... I can be pregnant with Daniel.

You, Frostbite, need ME, Vladimir Masters, THE ONLY OTHER HALFA, to carry Daniel around inside my body, in what to all appearances resembles a pregnancy, in order to heal him. Because I am an Older And Stronger Halfa Upon Which He Relies.

:)

*instantly begins plotting*

Just? Imagine. Vlad is a FUCKIN LIAR. No one but him would even KNOW what was going on! He just? Rocks up one day, like? *falsely demure* "oh I couldn't POSSIBLY has any scotch, Lex! >:) I'm eating for Two~☆" and just? Deals the MAXIMUM amount of psychic damage he can.

Probably says it at their weekly, public, Veiled Threats Brunch.

It makes front page news. Luthor choked on his eggs. The paparazzi lost their SHIT. Vlad is doing the FULL Celebrity Mom Thing. The classes. The photo shoots. The Gucci sunglasses as he peruses high end strollers. All while HEAVILY suggesting that not only is "The Baby" Lex's.... but that he's going to withhold the child and deny Lex any access.

Danny isn't even aware. He's in a lovely lil medical coma. Dani is trying to find a good spot to plop down Amity. She just know Vlad is being... Vlad. Meh. He can handle it. Dan? He's not even IN the human realm and is not sure he wants to be.

But over in the LEAGUE? Everything's on fuckin FIRE.

Kon is losing his SHIT and Clark is thousand yard staring into the void. Kon's half brother is in the hands of a... Less Then Ideal... Meta that Batman is PRETTY sure is highly suspect. Might be a deliberate weapons experiment. Certainly is a hostage. And the DRAMA.

Lex has never been worse.

He might actually stab his...partner? Vlad. At the hospital. The SECOND the child is born. There are already long term kidnapping plans in the making. He's hiring lawyers. Getting VICIOUS. There have been talks with DEATHSTROKE. By BOTH OF THEM.

Clark wants to cry.

@hypewinter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Country Rose 3

Warnings: age gap, power dynamics, creep behaviour, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You go down and find Martha in the kitchen. She smiles so brightly as you appear and offer to help her finish the corn. You can't help a sliver of glumness. Your mother never was so happy to see you. No, it's her disappointment that pushed you accept the job  to move away to the middle of no where. 

The more you think about it, the more you doubt yourself. To what end are you putting yourself through this desolate purgatory. It might be novel and peaceful now but you always tend to grow bored with the familiar. It's the very reason you flunked out of college. You couldn't do the same day over and over.  

"What are we making with the corn?" You ask, hoping the conversation can ease the tension, not just with Martha but in your mind. 

"Oh, I got some potatoes to roast and some beef. Homegrown," she explains, "you do a lotta cookin', sweetheart?" 

"Mostly out of boxes," you laugh, "but I'm willing to learn. How are you roasting the potatoes? Quartered? Sliced?" 

"Oh, you are so darned helpful," she brightens and gently taps your arm, "you can grab the sack just there," she points to the pantry door, "and give em a scrub before you cut em. Anyway you like. I'll pick out some seasonings." 

"Sounds like a plan," you agree. 

You set to work. You haul out the heavy canvas bag with a grunt and barely get it on the counter. Martha hands you a metal strainer, dented from years of use, and you fill it, rinsing the skins in the deep sink. 

"Clark said something about school," Martha says, "you'll learn a lot more out here." 

"Oh, yeah, dropped out," you turn and pick up the knife she set out with the thick board. "You know... just wasn't for me. My mom didn't want me sitting around and to be honest, I hate doing nothing." 

"Lots to do around here," she assures. 

She doesn't seem sad at the statement. She seems excited for your help. You're almost relieved as you expected cow dung and horse flies. 

"I'll be sure to carry my weight," you promise as you start chopping.  

"Mm, how sweet you are," she trills, "I see why Clark brought you here." 

"Uh, yeah, I'd hate to let him down. And it's a far way from home." 

"Why, you're grown. Not really meant to be home, is it? Finding your way like we all do," she hums and fills a pot with water, covering the corn cobs. 

Before she can attempt to lift it, you're at her side, "let me, please." 

"Oh, dang, you are just like, Clark," she mutters  "I'm not out to pasture just yet." 

"I know, but... it's heavy even for me," you assure her and show your effort as you carry the pot to the stove. 

"Mmm, still my house," she frowns and backs up. "Well, when I was your age, me and Jonathan were married for a while. Couple years but... no kids. Not til Clark came along." 

"Oh? How old were you when... when you had him?" You ask out if courtesy. You peek at her. You're not sure of her age and you're not bold enough to guess. Clark has to be at least in his mid-30s. 

"Oh, yes, about his age now," she answers as if reading your mind. "He's mine. Ours. Not by blood. Could never... you know..." she looks grim as she lowers her chin, "all the same, me and Jonathan never saw him as anything but ours." 

"Adopted?" You wonder. 

"Think we were meant to wait for him," she perks up, "anyway, how can I be sad with such a good son? Don't ya think?" 

"Yes, Clark is very nice," you agree. 

"Sweet boy," she preens, "strong, gentle, smart." She clasps her hands together, "I'm sure I don't need to say it." 

"Mm, uh huh," you murmur, not really sure what she means. 

“I know a lovely idea,” she says, “I have the meat marinating so why don’t you take him some of my sun tea? It’s his favourite.” 

“Ah, um, sure, I can do that.” 

“And take your time. You don’t gotta stay inside all day,” she chimes. 

“There’s a pitcher in the fridge. Put some ice in before you rush off. Have some yourself if you like.” 

You take the task as an opportunity to see more of the farm You pour a glass of the dark iced tea and add a few cubes of ice. Martha watches you go with a bright expression that leaves you a bit uneasy. It’s just her way, you guess. Maybe it’s a part of her condition. Clark mentioned she wasn’t quite herself. 

You head out and stop at the top step of the porch. You realise, you don’t know where to look for him. Instead, you look out at the fields and the barn, and the meeting of blue and green off on the horizon. It’s beautiful. You think this is what it feels like to have your breath taken away. 

“Hey,” Clark startles you as he appears. “Dinner already?” 

“Um, just tea, your mom sent it out,” you come down the steps to meet him. His skin glistens in sweat that dampens the edges of his shirt. The fabric clings to the thick muscles beneath.  

“Thanks, you have any?” He accepts the glass and gulps deeply. 

“Not yet, maybe with dinner.” 

“How’s ma doing?” 

“Fine, fine. I’m just helping her. She seems happy.” 

“She would be,” he shrugs, “always wanted a daughter. Spoiled me for sure but I know. She would’ve done well with one.” 

“Yeah, uh, but she loves you.” 

“Well, yeah, but every mother wants a daughter,” he says, “what about you? How are you settling in?” 

“Um, good. It’s... different.” 

“For now,” he says, “but you’ll get used to it.” 

[sanguineterrain]

Hey I saw you're still taking requests... what about a batman x reader where the justice league meets his wife (the reader) by accident? And maybe they're shocked because he's so secretive and she's really sweet and just the total opposite of him. Feel free to ignore if this doesn't sound interesting to you. I love your writing 💗

Hey! I love this prompt, thanks for sending it in :) I made the reader gender neutral, I hope that's okay!

Bruce Wayne x spouse!gn!reader. No warnings, just Bruce being a little shit (and a sweet hubby).

****

You press your palm to the reader at the entrance of the Cave and jog down the stairs, talking all the way.

"Honey, Alfred and I are going to..."

Six superhero faces stare back at you. Bruce is in the cowl, expression hard to parse. Your brows rise.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know B had company. I'll leave you to it," you say, beginning to back up the stairs.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," says Green Lantern. You can't tell through the mask lenses, but you think he might be zeroed in on the ring on your left hand. "Uh, Spooky? Something you wanna tell us?"

You freeze on the steps. Bruce looks at you, then crosses the Cave in a few long strides. He stops next to you.

Sorry, you mouth at him. He shakes his head and reaches out to squeeze your hand.

"Hold the fucking phone," Green Arrow begins. "You're his—"

"Partner," Wonder Woman says instantly. She sounds pensive. "I have never seen you look at anyone like that, Bruce."

Bruce doesn't say anything, not that you expect him to. You feel him tense.

He'd been content to keep his family as private as possible, and you hadn't minded being kept separate. You know it's out of extreme protectiveness and the fact that you're the only one of the Wayne family who doesn't put a suit on and fight crime.

There's a moment of silence as the League studies you, then Bruce. You smile slowly and wave.

"Hi, Justice League. Nice to meet you all."

"Hello," says the Martian Manhunter, who's probably known about you since you entered Wayne Manor.

"You got married without telling us?" Superman sounds hurt.

Bruce heaves a sigh.

"We got married during the League's infancy. Please spare me the theatrics. Of course I didn't tell you."

"We revealed our identities two years ago!" Superman argues. "You didn't want to mention you have a spouse?"

Superman nods at you then. "Uh, of course, it's still very nice to meet you."

You smile. "It's nice to meet you too, Superman."

"Clark," he corrects hastily. Then he turns to Bruce again, upset flaring. "Bruce—"

"You're upset over nothing," Bruce says. "We weren't close when I got married, and I never found it a pertinent detail."

You roll your eyes.

"B," you say, nudging his shoulder. "C'mon. Try to be a little gentler about this, hm?"

Bruce looks at you. You smile at him and squeeze his wrist encouragingly. He eventually turns back to the League.

"Very well, you're right. Clark, that was harsh of me. My apologies."

The League startles.

"Whoa. Rewind. Hold up. Did Spooky just apologize?" Green Lantern asks. "Did I just get zeta'd?"

Bruce sighs. You stifle a laugh and kiss his bicep. His hand slips to your back.

"Aw, you guys are cute," Flash says jovially. "Congrats, B! Even if it's been almost six years."

Bruce nods. "Thank you, Allen."

"It is incredible how the better half can transform the other," says Wonder Woman, and you preen a little at the compliment.

Clark looks flabbergasted. It takes him a second to speak again.

"Um. That's... okay, Bruce. I forgive you. I suppose you did it out of protection, right?"

"I'm just a boring ol' civilian," you say, nodding. "No powers or years of Krav Maga training here. B worries."

"You're not boring," Bruce says fiercely, quiet enough for only you to hear... and Clark, who has superhearing, and who softens at the statement.

"This is so weird," Green Lantern says, and Bruce glares at him.

"I mean, it's sweet!" he hastily adds. "Uh, you guys are very sweet together, like Bar said. I just feel like I've been mind controlled or something."

"If it was mind control, you wouldn't still be talking," Bruce says flatly.

"Okay, alright, point taken. Shutting up. It's very nice to meet you, though," Green Lantern says to you.

"You as well," you say warmly. "All of you. I want to thank you for looking out for him all these years and bringing him home safe."

Wonder Woman smiles at you. "It is a great honor to fight alongside him. And we are happy he has someone to come home to."

"Seconded," Clark says. "You deserve someone special, B. And I can tell they're just that."

Your face feels warm under all the praise. Bruce is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, there's a slight tremor in his voice.

"Thank you. I—they are the best thing to ever happen to me."

You have to kiss Bruce for that, cowl be damned. He meets you gently, and you keep it short but full of love. Flash aww's.

"Well," you say, laughing bashfully. "I suppose I'll let you all get back to work. Nice to meet you. Goodbye. Bruce, I'm going out with Alfred."

Bruce nods. "Call me when you get home."

"'Course, sweetheart. I always do."

You head up the stairs. Flash starts to speak.

"Y'know, I told you all when I got married," he says. "You guys were the first people I told! We didn't even know Clark's identity then. I think you could've loosened the reins, Bruce."

"Yeah, no. You telling a bunch of superhero co-workers is infinitely stranger than Bruce never telling us, Bar."

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eight

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

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

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

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

masterlist

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

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

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

“Can I come in?”

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

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

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

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

It’s too repulsive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Solana.”

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

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

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

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

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

Roman….

He confuses her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just…..different. 

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

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

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to take care of something.”

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

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

________

Dear Mom,

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

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

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

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

Roman…

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

I’ve never had a man be nice to me. 

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

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

I feel so torn sometimes. 

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

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

I can’t.

________

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

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

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

That leaves one person.

Roman.

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

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is one of those moments. 

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

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

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

“Assess?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whassup, my dogs!”

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

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

“Sami.”

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

“Go sit somewhere else.”

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

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

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

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

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

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

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

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

She has no idea where Solo is. 

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

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

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

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

Heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soso.”

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

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

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

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

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

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

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

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

“I—I still don’t get it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some she can answer. Some she cannot. 

So she asks him.

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

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

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

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

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

Survive…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, you look good.”

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

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

For now. 

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

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

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman. 

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

“Roman Reigns.”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman simply states, “talk.” 

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

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

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

“Do something.”

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

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

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

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him not being healthy concerns her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…..

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

About more than just his question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

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

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

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

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

Not good enough. 

“Make it 20.” 

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier is his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That only pisses him off even more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

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

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

He knew something happened to her. 

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped. 

Beaten. 

Twelve.

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

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

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

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

He’s fucking breathing rage. 

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

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

A fishing trip…..

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

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

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

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

Solana was hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is she up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Until I’m back….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And uncomfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

[sweetbans29]

Jersey - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin likes her jersey better on you than she does on herself (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: What any of us would do for this...

When you met Caitlin sophomore year of high school, you would have never imagined your friendship and relationship to get you where you are today. The two of you played on Iowa Attack and that is when you learned just how amazing she was.

It would be a lie to say that the two of you connected right away - you actually butted heads at the beginning. When the two of you first started playing - she wasn't the best teammate. And that was a knock to her, it was a learning curve that everyone had to navigate. She was just that good.

But once the team got more practice together and began to learn how Caitlin played and how everyone played a role, the team really began feeling like a team. It rubbed you the wrong way in the beginning but the more you got to know her and her game it made sense. She was so far ahead of everyone when it came to her knowledge of the game that you could understand where she was coming from.

It was your senior year of high school when the two of you started dating. You made the first move even though she was the one to be completely obvious when it came to her feelings for you. You wanted to make your first date memorable so you asked her mom to help.

You show up at Caitlin's house at 10AM on a Saturday morning and knock on her door. She opens the door and is surprised to see you standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Caitlin asks with a little blush.

"Why hello to you too," you say with a smile. You can Caitlin's nerves with your presence. She tries to keep it cool and play them off but you just stand there and watch her struggle. First, one of her arms comes up and leans against the door while she crosses her leg. When the door begins to move she realizes it is a bad idea and stops leaning on the door and decides to put her hands on her hips to keep her hands from fidgeting.

"You know you are cute when you are nervous," you say and she blushes even more.

"You didn't answer my question," she says trying to regain any part of this meeting.

"Well, if you must know," you say with a teasing tone and the biggest smile. "I am taking you on a date."

She looks at you with wide eyes, a smile immediately making its way to her face.

"Wait, what?" She says with a goofy grin - her heart beating faster now than it does in any game.

"Caitlin Clark, we are going on a date," you say again, your smile matching hers. Her smile fades as a realization hits her.

"Wait, my mom needs me to help her with some family stuff today," Cait says, now frowning.

"No, she doesn't, I sort of roped her into helping me block out your schedule today so I could take you out," you say proudly that your plan had worked.

"Mom!" Caitlin yells as she immediately goes to find her. When she walks away from the door, you step inside and wait for her to return.

"Mom! Aunt Ellie isn't coming over today?" Cait asks. Her mom laughs.

"Well, she is, but we don't need your help. You are going out today," her mom says as she hands Cait a bag.

"What is this?" Caitlin asks, looking at the zipped-up tote bag. She begins to unzip it.

"Nope! You can't look in there yet," Anne's hand comes and stops her daughter. "She will let you know when you can."

Caitlin turns back to look at you standing by the front door. She goes back to where you are.

"Are you ready?" You ask.

She nods with excitement and you guide her out to your car.

"So where are we going?" She asks as you begin the drive.

"You will just have to wait and see," you say with a smile.

It was almost a 3-hour car ride but you finally made it to your destination. Once you were near your final destination, you let Caitlin open the bag her mom handed her. Inside is her Chiefs jersey.

"We are not," Caitlin says as she pulls out her jersey. "There is no way."

You laugh.

"Ya, I actually just drove us out here to go watch it at some local restaurant." You say and she whips her head to look at you in disbelief.

"I kid," you say putting your hand up and telling her to look in the bag. Under the jerseys were two tickets to the game that afternoon.

The two of you spent the day cheering on the Chiefs, eating all of the stadium food you could hold, and enjoying each other's company. On the drive home, you both were riding the high of your team's win. It is only when you are pulling up to her house that she becomes quiet. You park your car and she doesn't make a move to get out.

"Why...how did you do this?" Caitlin asks looking down at her hands.

You give the girl a question look - not that she sees. When you don't answer right away she continues.

"Why me?" She asks fighting the urge inside her to remain looking at her hands and turns her head to look at you. You look at the girl with love-filled eyes and a gentle smile.

"Why not you Caitlin? We've been friends now for a few years and even though I may have had my reservations about you in the beginning, you let me in and showed me who you are. A girl who feels so deeply that she doesn't know what to do with it half the time. You may be reserved with the world, and rightfully so I might add, but you have welcomed me into your heart and have made sure I stick around a while. You never explicitly said you liked me but seeing how your actions have changed towards me the last few months - the protecting, the asking intentional questions, the nervousness, all of it never went unnoticed. You were just too busy caring for me to see that I have been trying to love you back." You say as Cait sits there in disbelief and trying to wrack her brain for any of your signs the last few months. You take her hand in yours.

"So I got tired of waiting - I felt like I knew you well enough to know at the rate you were going, you would have never asked me out before heading to Iowa and I took matters into my own hands. I got together with your mom and dad and they helped me plan this." You bring her hand up to kiss the back of it.

Caitlin is too stunned to speak - she has never had anyone who has loved her like you are. You bring your free hand to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek.

"I am going to kiss you now," you say slowly leaning in. You can see the effect you are having on her as her chest begins to rise and fall twice as fast. You bring her into a gentle kiss - it is slow and innocent. Once you pull apart, you both smile.

Now the two of you have moved to Indiana together and are starting life outside of Iowa for the first time. It's both an exciting and challenging time as Cait navigates the transition to the W right out of college. After finding an apartment - you started learning about the city while Caitlin jumped right into training camp.

The beginning of the season is a rough start as the Fever navigates a fairly new team. You can tell it all takes a toll on Cait mentally as she is trying to figure out what playing in the W looks like. The transition is something both of you were expecting but not to this degree. Her game wasn't what had been affected (at least not to the degree she was worried about) - it was everything aside of the game that Caitlin (and you) had to learn how to deal with. You did your best to make sure Caitlin was talking to her parents and even her old teammates this season to help encourage her and keep her sane.

She is incredibly thankful that you are there with her because aside from her parents, there is no one who knows the girl better than you do.

Her first game of the season was thrilling. It wasn't unfamiliar as Caitlin was used to playing in front of a packed house - it always fueled her even more. You were lucky enough to tag along and planned on being at every game of hers as she had them write it into her contract that you would travel with them to any away game. You had already been looking into flights when she mentioned you would just be traveling with the team.

You would always be close behind her when she would arrive at the stadiums and would often get pulled into quick little interviews about Caitlin. You would always hype her up and match her in some way shape or form.

After every game, the two of you would walk hand in hand with her jersey draped over your shoulder - ready to turn in for the night.

It had become a thing in college where Caitlin would pass along her jersey to you after every game. It became such a known thing that the uniform team would need to provide Caitlin a new jersey every game. It wasn't super uncommon but soon became known that after she put her game jersey on, it would never come back to them.

The fans also started to notice how you would walk out with Caitlin after the game with her jersey draped over your shoulder. The fans that had followed her in college knew that her game jersey was reserved for you but the newer fans had a field day when they found out. It became what you were known for.

You didn't expect it to be the same in the pros with Caitlin's jersey as you saw other players signing and handing off their jersey to a fan after the game. But without fail, after every game, Cait would walk out to you, jersey in hand, ready to hang it over your shoulder for your collection at home. The world knew that all game jerseys were yours, but what they didn't know is that before she would give them to you she would write some sort of cute message on them just for you. They would all conclude with her CC signature and the date.

It's the 6th game in the season when the Fever plays the Sparks for the first time. You are sitting in a box with some of the other staff and visitors for this game. By the end of the fourth - the Fever takes their first win of the season and the crowd and the team go crazy.

You make your way down the court when there are 2 minutes remaining and wait close to the bench as the team celebrates their first victory together.

Cait is pulled into a quick post-game interview with Aliyah and then is told to go meet someone courtside. You wait patiently, talking to some of the other players and congratulating them on a much-deserved win. You are talking with Lexie and Jason Sudeikis (who you have surprisingly built a friendship with as became to many of Cait's games) when you are pulled from your spot and are being dragged across the court by your girlfriend.

"Caitlin, I was in the middle of a conversation," you say yelling over the people. She brings you to a group of people and you immediately gasp when you see Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis standing there with their kids.

She introduces you and you do your best to keep your cool.

"We are such big fans of yours," you say as you hug each of them.

"You are too sweet!" Mila says as she introduces her kids.

Their daughter looks up at Caitlin with tears in her eyes and asks if she would sign and give her jersey to her.

Both Caitlin and Mila speak at the same time.

"This jersey is already claimed but I can definitely get you a signed one!" Caitlin says.

"Sweetie, you know she always gives it to her girlfriend," Mila says at the same time.

You decide to jump in.

Looking at the girl you say, " I would love if you had this jersey." Your smile beams and Caitlin is about to protest.

"But you have to promise to keep it safe for us, okay?" You say and she proceeds to nod with excitement.

You look over at Cait, who is giving you a 'but no this is yours' look and you just wave her off.

"I'll make sure it gets to you once she changes out of it okay?" You say and Ashton and Mila are both incredibly thankful for you.

"It is crazy that you knew that all of my jerseys go to her," Cait says to Mila.

"Well, we have been following you for a little while now and have seen the interview when you mentioned she has all of your jerseys from college. That is super cute," Mila says.

Caitlin blushes and you laugh.

"You would think I have enough but 139 just isn't enough," you say jokingly and Cait gives you a look of hurt - you know it is all in light spirits.

"You love it when I give you my jersey," Caitlin fights back.

"I do, and I hope you never stop," you say leaning in to hug her side, patting her on the chest.

You part ways with the Kutcher family and tell them you will get their daughter CC's jersey but not before taking a photo.

When you get back to the locker room with Caitlin, she changes and your take the jersey.

Later that night you are scrolling through your social media feed and see Mila had tagged you in a post. You pull it up to see it is the group photo that was taken followed by a photo of her daughter in Caitlin's jersey. You smile and like it, leaving a comment - 'No one else I would rather share CC's game day jersey with 🫶🏽'.

You scroll through the comments and see how cute it is and how that is a one-in-a-million jersey. You turn over to Cait, who is lying next to you, and show her.

"I can't believe you gave away my first Fever win jersey," she mumbles. You laugh at her.

"I have your pre-season win jersey! And there was no way we were saying no to Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis," you say.

"Even she was saying that jersey belonged to you," Caitlin retorts.

"I think we will both live if I don't have a jersey from today," you say and kiss her shoulder.

"That's what you think, but lucky for you - I made sure you wouldn't go home empty-handed," she says as she gets out of bed and brings her over her warm-up shirt from the game.

"Caitlin, you did not." You say sitting up and taking the shirt from her.

You look down at it and see her message.

[My girl - This first win goes to you and the heart of gold you have. Here's to many more. I love you - CC 5.24.24]

She is still standing next to your bed when you reach up to hug her. Her arms wrap around you faster than yours can wrap around her.

"I love you, you know that?" You say squeezing your girl.

"I know and I love you even more," she says as she nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck.

BONUS - SOME OF THE MESSAGES CAITLIN WRITES ON HER JERSEYS FOR YOU

[My girl - To the first of many, a little thank you. I love you - CC 11.25.20]

[My girl - Let the fun begin - CC 3.23.21]

[My girl - I tried but 46 wasn't enough. Thank you for cheering me on no matter what. I love you - CC 2.6.22]

[My girl - Thank you for the pregame pep talk, it was needed more than you know. Michigan didn't stand a chance. Love you - CC 2.27.22]

[My girl - First double-double of the season, feeling good. Love hearing you in the crowd. Love you - CC 11.10.22]

[My girl - Not the way we wanted to ring in the new year but having you here made it better. We will get them next time. Love you - CC 1.1.23]

[My girl - A triple-double to take us to the final four, who would have thought...I mean you, you knew I could. I love you - CC 3.26.23]

[My girl - That one was rough, thank you for always cheering me on. I love you - CC 4.2.23]

[My girl - The beginning of the end. So glad you are here with me. Love you - CC 11.6.23]

[My girl - Thank you for loving me through my worst. You are the best - CC 2.11.24]

[My girl - I did it, babe! Most points in D1 women's basketball AND school high with career-high scoring for a game, easy. Hope you enjoy this birthday gift, love you - CC 2.15.24]

[My girl - Not to brag but your girl is the all-time leading scorer in the NCAA. - CC 3.3.24]

[My girl - No mercy, we have been working for this all year. Love you - CC 4.1.24]

[My girl - I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me, your support at every game fueled me. Thank you, baby. Yours forever - CC 4.7.24]

[My girl - Here's to a whole new adventure and jersey for your collection. I love you - CC 5.3.24]

[My girl - This first win goes to you and the heart of gold you have. Here's to many more. I love you - CC 5.24.24]

[My girl - Marry me? - CC 9.19.24]

AN: This is cute. I'm a fan but let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍