#and have characters talk about their 'side hustle'

[seriousfic]

[kxllerblond]

On Clark && Organized Crime.

I really emphasize the fact Clark dabbles heavily in the criminal world (and corporate business overworld) and that he has a reputation, but also is a relatively mysterious individual-—you may have asked yourself how the fuck he manages to be some business-equivalent of John goddamn W*ck and does so while being a supernatural creature.

We've been over the HOW in terms of how he has the influence he has, the connections, etc. Clark works OBSESSIVELY, he's toxic about it to the point where the only reason he hasn't fucked his own health is because he's got the perks of being inhuman. I really hammer in the fact that Clark NEEDS to keep busy and so he dumps just about all of his waking energy into what he does and with the combination of supernatural perks && his own unmatched drive, he accomplished an insane amount in a mere 20 years that could rival just about any multi-generational crime family at this point. I touch on it a little more in detail HERE.

WHAT'S HE DO?

What does he bring to the table? What has gotten him so well connected and powerful? As one might expect from the son of a demon-— he's a deal maker, a deal settler, and a deal enforcer. He's your middleman they can't say no to and, more importantly, he's one that don't WANT to say no to. He brings other things to the table that's earned him some respect like being insanely reliable and always delivering on his promises and, of course, the fact he's got enough money and favors pocketed it makes him valuable just to be in business with.

On the less savory side of things, there are certainly stories ring leaders tell their underlings to keep them in line and many of them may or may not involve Clark and what he has may or may not have done to groups that have gone back on their word with him or went so far as to double-cross him. Rooms of gore, entire crime families wiped over night if they were lucky, killed in every way but physically if they weren't. Gnarly stuff and gnarly punishments for what Clark considers the biggest affront to him. Needless to say, with statements like that, betrayal doesn't happen much nowadays.

Got a pretty decent example of something he might get up to if you reeeeally peeved him off HERE.

BEING IMMORTAL IN A MORTAL WORLD

Arachno, you may ask, how the fuck does he exist like this for twenty something plus years and do the things he does and not be found out? Does no one ask questions??? The short answer is: he really only half avoids it and also people would rather believe a nonsensical lie than they would to accept some batshit truth.

The long answer is he has a plethora of aliases. Frankly, you could be working with or for him and not even know it. Aside from that, he sends liaisons in his stead at times, he impersonates as his own grandson, was his own son before that. Sometimes, he just goes as Mr. Thompson in person, sometimes he only communicates via voice or text. Between all these mediums of doing business, it just further lends to his wild ass reputation. Which leads us to...

THE DEMON OF WALL STREET

An annoying moniker he's earned (much to his chagrin) and is due to the culmination of his own dark reputation, the manner in which he conducts business and settles deals, and also because of the fact there are totally grandpappy crime lords out there on their last leg who SWEAR they remember dealing with the same eerily beautiful blond man in a suit that their predecessor is working with now despite how humanly impossible that would be. Some real Age of Adaline shit. Mr. Thompson does get tossed around a lot, but this title is what you'll hear most often-—especially when you're in a pinch and looking for a last ditch solution to a problem. This is where I get a lot of the OMG!! HE'S JUST LIKE JW from because, really, that's how he gets talked about-—like this scene for example.

Really, he's just some highly professional, efficient, and will-driven businessman that can be like a force of nature if you personally agitate him. Truly an angel to some, a demon to others.

GETTING IN CONTACT WITH THE DEMON

Sort of just an altered version of how you'd get ahold of him in a supernatural sense. He's got a business card with nothing but a number that usually gets passed around by people he's already worked with, sometimes it's by word of mouth. You call or text this number, you get meeting instructions, the line becomes unreachable.

[mercvry-glow]

Busy Bee

parings. jack abbot x wife!reader

summary. you and your son take a trip to the pitt after an encounter with a bee. unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, your husband's working.

warnings. age gap (jack mid/late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader is allergic to bees, overprotective!jack, boy-dad!jack, typical hospital setting, no death, hurt/comfort but mainly comfort, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. local boy dad truther hopped into the pitt fandom, but this popped into my mind and I haven't been able to let it go. these will probably be a set of drabbles and one-shots if it gets enough traction, but please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated! also I am not a medical professional, but I tried my best to sound realistic.

wc. 2700+

side drabble of the aftermath

part two: where we fit

“We got a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, went into anaphylactic shock at the park due to a suspected bee sting. Vitals stabalized after we gave her Epi, but the swelling in her throat and the hives covering her chest, neck and arms is pretty extensive.” 

Just another normal day in the Pitt. 

“It is starting to be that season,” Dr. McKay said lightly as she did her own assessment while a few interns watched, “Did she have anyone with her? Who called?” 

The EMT gave a small gesture to her partner who was walking in behind them with a small boy, maybe five or six, who looked worried. “Couple of joggers passed them and found him with her failed EpiPen, they called after that.” 

Cassie could only nod as she thought about her own son experiencing that, “Alright Mohan come with me we’re gonna take her to south-15. Mel, can you talk to the boy and see if there’s anyone we can call for him?” 

Going to their respective tasks, McKay and Mohan took the young mother and Melissa went to introduce herself to the boy. He was still standing with the EMT, clutching his hand tightly while watching the hustle and bustle that was the emergency department. 

“Hey… Can I talk to him?” Mel approached slowly and the EMT squatted down to look the kid in his eyes. “I have to go now but uh- Dr. King here is gonna take really good care of you while your mommy gets help, okay?” The boy just nodded, going to hold his own hand. 

“What’s your name?” Mel asked, offering her own hand for him to take as they walked away. His grip was soft, if not a little clammy, and he toddled behind her as she led him to the family room. “Lucas…” he took his own deep breath, unsure of himself and the situation. 

“I heard something pretty scary happened at the park. Are you doing okay?” Lucas gave a little shrug, giving her hand a squeeze at the mention of the incident at the park. 

“I think so, is my mommy gonna be okay? Daddy says bees are bad for her, and the pen is supposed to make her better but it didn’t...” 

Mel opened the door to the family room, having Lucas sit in one of the chairs near the small coffee table. She had learned in the past couple of months that children liked to be distracted in situations like these. Clearly the little boy was feeling down, his once peaceful day at the park now ruined by an unfortunate accident. 

She sat down beside him, helping him take off the backpack he was wearing hoping maybe there were some more identifying clues lying within the blue cloth.  “Well your dad must be very smart, but your mom is being taken care of by some really cool doctors and I think she’s gonna be okay and excited to see you again.”

Unzipping the bag, Mel gave Lucas a gentle smile as they pulled out the contents together. Inside were the usual kid essentials — a juice pouch, a small sketchpad with dinosaurs drawn in crayon, and a pair of cleats and matching socks balled up and forgotten at the bottom. She sifted carefully, searching for anything that might tell them who else to contact. A pair of car keys sat in the front pocket, but no wallet or any other identifying placards. The EpiPen sat visibly in the mesh side holster, unadministered and effectively useless now. The air was light between the pair while the Intern thought of her next moves, and Lucas had started coloring next to her to keep his mind off of things. 

  She thought about askin Robby or Dana for next steps, and definitely wanted Kieara to stop by. “Are we able to contact your dad? I’m sure he’d want to know what happened,” Mel said, stumped at what to do next. 

“He’s pretty busy and um- his number sheet is in my other bag in the car… Mommy was supposed to make two, but this is the fun bag so it wasn’t supposed to matter.” Lucas explained, though that’s fair considering he’s only five or so. 

“Oh! Well where does he work? We could try calling them and he should be able to come here,” 

Lucas closed his eyes and wiggled around in his chair as he tried to remember the name, “Uhhh- oh Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center!” 

Mel’s eyes lit up at the mention of the very hospital they were in. “Well that’s where we are! Let me go grab someone real quick and we can start asking around, how does that sound?” Lucas silently agreed and went back to coloring as the blonde woman left the room. 

The Intern succuried around, hoping to find Dr. Robby in a moment of peace where she could talk to him about the situation. Thankfully, the older man was sitting near the nurses station typing away at one of the computers. 

“Dr. Robby! I uh- I have the son of a patient who was admitted not too long ago, he said his dad works here and I was hoping you could help us locate him? He’s only about five so he doesn’t remember too much besides that.” Mel stood expectantly, as the older man got up and pushed his chair in. 

“Lead the way Dr. King, let's find this boy's dad.” Robby ran a hand down his face as he followed after Melissa who was leading him to the family room. Putting on a brave face, he hoped to god this wasn’t going to lead into a hospital wide manhunt. They kept a steady pace, pausing outside the door. “What was the other patient admitted for?” He asked, needing to know if this would be bad or not. 

“Mom was taken to South-15 after experiencing anaphylactic shock from a bee sting. The uh- EpiPen failed and some joggers helped them out, Dr. McKay was trearting her and everything was stable when we left besides the swelling and hives she had.” she explained keeping her recounting of it short, really wanting to find Lucas’s father as soon as possible. 

The two stepped inside the small room, the young boy sitting in the same cramped chair, picking at the sleeve of his sweater. 

“Hey, Lucas. This is Dr. Robby he’s gonna help-” Mel could barely get the rest of her sentence out before the boy looked up and rushed into the arms of the man beside her. 

“Uncle Mikey!” he cried out, latching onto the older doctor who scooped him up. 

“Hey Luke, what are ya doing here buddy?” Still a bit shocked, Robby gave the boy a quick scan looking for any sign that something could be wrong, “I heard your mom got stung by a bee.” 

Lucas let out a small sniffle, resting his head on the shoulder of his uncle. “It was scary… an-and mommy left her phone in the car so-so I couldn’t call anyone!” He kept his little body close, fists locked onto the blue hoodie Robby was known for wearing. He was still scared, just now beginning to process everything that had happened in the past hour or so. 

Mel stood off to the side, letting the two talk amongst themselves for a few moments. “You know Dr. Robby, Lucas?” 

The pair turned to her and Robby adjusted the boy so he could see the woman a bit better. “Dr. King meet Lucas Abbot, I’m surprised he didn’t say so sooner-probably the nerves.”  The older man looked down to the boy who was still clinging to him, the only familiar person he had seen since arriving to the PTMC. “You wanna go find your dad?” 

Lucas nodded a resounding yes, keeping his face buried in the neck of the older man hoping he would keep carrying him. 

“Dr. King, I got it from here if you want to go back and work,” Mel took her leave after that, giving Lucas a small wave goodbye before going back into the fold. 

Robby set the small boy down, repacking the scattered items back into the bag. He tried not to think about the faulty EpiPen, or how Jack was going to react upon finding out what had occurred. If anything that man was protective, and if hearing that his wife had been admitted didn’t set him off—hearing his son was here and hadn’t been able to contact him definitely would. 

“Yo Dana, we have a visitor with us today.” The brunette gave the curls on Lucas’s head, a trait he got from his father, a small rub, as they got to the charge nurse’s attention. The blonde let out a small gasp as she bent down to give the boy a hug. 

“And what are you doing here, little man? Where’s your mama? Your Dad’s running all over the place today, have you seen him yet?” She looked back up at Robby, holding the boy close. 

The older man gave a small shake of his head, a knowing look in his brown eyes. “She’s uh- She’s in south-15 and we were actually looking for Jack, have you seen him?” 

Dana glanced at the board, “He was about to discharge a patient from north-8, you could probably catch him before the next Ambo pulls up.” 

“Alright, buddy,” Robby said, offering his hand to Lucas again. “Let’s go find your dad before he disappears on us.”

Dana gave the boy one more quick squeeze and a wink before standing up again. “Tell him to take five once you find him. He’s been running around since before you got here.”

They made their way toward the north wing, weaving between carts and stretchers, the bustle of the hospital constant. Lucas stayed close, wide-eyed but silent, clutching Robby’s fingers like a lifeline.

As they rounded the corner near North-8, Robby spotted him—Dr. Jack Abbot clipboard in hand, shoulder leaning into the doorway of a patient room as he gave discharge instructions with that familiar composed intensity. Even from here, Robby could see the stress around his eyes. Whatever calm Jack projected, it wasn’t rooted deep today. The patient stepped away into the crowd of people and Robby stepped into view, catching his eye.

Jack nodded a little when he saw him, expecting a routine update—until he saw the small figure beside him.

“Lucas?”

The clipboard hit the counter with a clack.

Lucas let go of Robby’s hand and ran straight into his father’s arms, the impact knocking the breath out of Jack for half a second.

“Hey—hey, what—” Jack crouched down, holding Lucas tightly, searching his face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Lucas clung to him like a koala, cheeks red and eyes glassy. “Mommy’s sick,” he whispered. “The pen didn’t work. I tried, but it didn’t work.”

Jack’s face paled. His arms tightened instinctively. “Where is she?”

“South-15,” Robby answered quietly, giving the man a moment before continuing. “It was a bee sting. The EpiPen failed. She was treated right away, vitals are stable, McKay’s with her.”

Jack didn’t move at first, just held his son close, forehead resting against Lucas’s curls as he processed it all—the sudden fear, the guilt, the helplessness. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“I didn’t even know—no wonder she wasn’t answering her phone.” His voice cracked.

“She’s okay,” Robby reminded him gently. “And your son? Absolute champ. Kept his head until the crews showed up.”

Lucas pulled back just enough to look at him. “I didn’t cry. I was gonna, but I didn’t.”

Jack smiled through the tightness in his chest. “Good job, bud.”

He stood up slowly, Lucas still in his arms, and turned to Robby. “I need to see her.”

Robby nodded. “Go on, Brother. I’ll let Dana know what’s going on, let her know you’re clocking off early.” He handed over the backpack and let the father/son duo head off. 

Making their way to you, where you were taken was a bit more private than other rooms and the soft beeping could be heard from outside. The two stopped outside, Jack prepping the boy for what he was about to see. 

“Hey…So mommy’s probably gonna be sleepy and she might have a hard time talking okay? We should be able to see her though.” Lucas nodded into his dad’s shoulder, his small fingers tightening around the fabric of Jack’s black scrub top.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I won’t be loud.”

Jack gave a little smile at that, brushing his son’s curls down gently before reaching for the door. The soft click of the handle felt louder than it should have, and as they stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic mixed with something heavier—like adrenaline and the memories embedded within the room.

The room was dimly lit, with only the overhead light above your bed on. You were propped up slightly, eyes closed, an oxygen cannula under your nose. Your arm had an IV line, and Princess was quietly making notes on the monitor screen.

Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.

Lucas didn’t say anything right away. His gaze was locked on you, his brown eyes wide and unreadable as he stared at his mom, so happy and full of life only hours ago, now tucked into white sheets with wires and machines surrounding her.

“Mommy…” he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound, sluggish but aware. You turned your head slightly, the movement slow and pained, but unmistakably focused on him.

Jack stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed so Lucas could see you better.

“She’s awake,” Jack said softly. “You can say hi, baby.”

Lucas’s lip trembled, but he leaned toward you. “I’m sorry,” he blurted suddenly. “I tried with the pen but it didn’t work and I was scared and I couldn’t call—”

Your fingers twitched and slowly reached for him, and Jack gently helped guide Lucas’s hand to yours. Holding the both of yours within his strong grip.

“You did so good, baby,” you said, your voice hoarse but warm. “I’m okay, and you were so brave.”

Lucas crawled gently onto the edge of the bed, careful not to bump into any of the cords or wires. He curled up beside your arm, still holding your hand tightly.

Jack sat in the chair beside the bed, rubbing his face and finally letting out a shaky breath.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly, half to himself, half to you. You gave him a tired smile, and Jack reached up to brush your hair from your face.

“But you’re here,” he said. “And we’re okay. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky we weren’t closer to Pres, would’ve really lost your shit…” you gave him the best smile you could muster, while he gave you a knowing look. 

He let out yet another sigh, still keeping your hand in his. “We need to get you another EpiPen, and put my goddamn number in that park bag.” 

“You have fun with that, babe,” you murmured, voice still rough but tinged with just enough sass to draw a soft snort from Jack.

“Oh, I will,” he said, dragging the chair a little closer to the bed. “You’re gonna have a laminated emergency list in every bag we own. Backpack, baseball bag, glove box—hell, I’ll sew one into your damn jacket lining if I have to.”

Lucas perked up a little at that, lifting his head. “I can start baseball?”

Jack looked over at him, mock-serious. “Only if you promise not to spill a bunch of stuff in the bag again.”

Lucas giggled for the first time since they got there, that tiny sound easing something deep in Jack’s chest. You chuckled too, though it ended in a soft wince as your ribs reminded you what happened.

Jack leaned forward instinctively, hand pressing lightly over yours again. “Easy,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” you reassured, but your grip on his fingers said another thing.

I love you, I’m sorry. 

The room fell into a quiet rhythm after that—the soft hum of monitors, Lucas gently dozing off against your arm after hours of turmoil, Jack watching both of you with an expression halfway between exhaustion and fierce devotion.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a moment, just for him.

He looked up.

“For having such good doctor friends, for loving me… For being a good dad,”

Jack leaned in, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Always.”

mercvry-glow 2025

[lalalenii]

my concept of text length is so messed up bc for fic i go by wc and i'm always like 2k is not a lot but for my side hustle i usually write 2.5k-3k characters and it can feel so endless if the material isn't giving me anything to go off

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - r.c.

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 4.5k words)

summary: After 8 beautiful months tangled up with the richest man on the island, your trist comes to a screeching hault when it's time for him to find a girl more suited to his lifestyle. Even though you tried to move on, a photo of a new girl on his arm sends you both into a spiral that ends with him back in your bed.

content: angst/smut, drinking, smoking, what could be perceived as infidelity but technically isn't. this story is 18+ minors do not interact.

You met him in September, at a nightclub on the mainland. You had been dancing with your girlfriends all night, celebrating your best friend’s bachelorette party. It was the fourth bachelorette you’d been to in a year, now at the age when all of your friends were settling down and getting married. There was no ring in sight for you, though. Your friends would laugh and call you the wild stallion, a running joke among the group that no man could tame you. You never saw the point in marriage. You were stubbornly independent, insistent that you would make your own way in the world, promising yourself you’d never be just someone’s little wife. 

You knew this choice meant you’d struggle a little more than your friends, most of whom ‘married-up’ financially. You didn’t grow up with money, and you didn’t have any now. You had spent your whole life on The Cut and you had no problem spending the rest of it there. If the trade off for living your life however you wanted was hustling and jumping between dead-end jobs, so be it. You were much more interested in collecting stories anyway, always looking for wild nights and strange characters to fill your life with, briefly, not keeping anyone around for too long.

You went out every weekend, no Monday 9-to-5 looming over your fun. You’d brought many guys back to the little shack by the water that you rented, your barely-one-bedroom, as you called it lovingly. All the other bachelorette parties ended up with you bringing some guy back to your apartment for some pretty good sex and a completely ingenuine “I’ll text you sometime.” So when you stepped off the dance floor, sweat making your silk-slip dress cling to your curves, and the bartender handed you a drink that was a gift “from that guy over there” you smiled wide, knowing this night would go exactly as planned.

You smiled slyly at the tall blond in the corner as you took a delicate sip of your drink. He was gorgeous, eyeing you up and down like he was starved for you. His large frame was crowding the booth of the VIP section as he winked and lifted his glass to you in salute. 

This time, there was a problem. This time, the sex wasn’t pretty good. This time, the sex was earth shatteringly incredible. You genuinely didn’t know sex could be that good, that a guy you met at a bar could ever be capable of making you feel so euphoric, or come so hard, so many times. You didn’t know your own body was capable of the things he got it to do. You didn’t think you’d ever want to stay up talking and laughing with one of your hook-ups like you did that night. You didn’t think you’d ever wake up disappointed that the guy from the night before wasn’t in the bed next to you. And you definitely didn’t think you’d ever be the one to pull out your phone and text him first.

After that night, you saw each other regularly. It turned out he lived on the island too, though his estate was on the rich side of town. That first night, he only told you his first name. But when he had you put your number in his phone and text yourself so you’d have his, a note popped up at the top of the text thread that said “maybe: Rafe Cameron.” You recognized the surname immediately, it was everywhere on this island. After he left the second time, you googled him. Thousands of hits came up, articles about his family, pictures of them at their estate, on their yacht, at charity galas and property groundbreakings. Even though you knew his drive back from your place was only a couple of minutes, every night when he snuck out into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel like he was retreating to a completely different universe.

After a few weeks, Rafe’s late night visits started getting longer and longer. After he’d fold you into shapes you didn’t know you could make and fuck you breathless, you’d lay in your bed, his head on your chest, smoking a joint and talking for hours. You talked about everything, the conversations weaving between casual chats about your common interests, to deep talks about purpose, values, and trauma, to joking around and teasing each other until you were giggling below him and he was smiling into the skin of your neck. 

You’d tell him about your plans to never settle down and keep chasing the next adventure. He’d tell you about his asshole of a father and the grand plans he had for him. Neither of you ever acknowledged how antithetical your life plans were. The truth that nothing real would ever work between you would hang in the air everyone once in a while, but you’d just push away the tension with a joke and fuck again. 

Even though your nights together would bleed well into the early morning, Rafe never stayed over. It was an unspoken rule between you, he never told you he wanted to stay and you never asked him to. You told yourself it was a good thing, exactly what you wanted, as you shivered in your empty bed and cursed the loss of his warmth.

One night, that May, you and Rafe sat on your bed, eating the take-out he had ordered to your apartment after you’d finished fucking. He was quieter than usual, distracted. Just a little earlier, he had gone down on you for longer than he ever had. Taking his time, praising every inch of you with kisses. He whispered little nothings into the soft skin of your inner thighs before devouring you. “So beautiful” and “so good to me, baby” and “all I can fucking think about.” He always talked to you sweetly, saying the nicest words while doing the filthiest things to you, but this time was different. Typically he was rough, which you loved, but this night he moved slowly, without his usual urgency. He brought you to orgasm on his tongue twice, before fucking you in missionary, his forehead against yours as you came at the same time. Since that moment, he’d barely said anything to you outside of asking what you wanted for dinner.

You sat in silence and picked at the Chinese food he’d gotten from your favorite place. You watched him as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress and twirled a chopstick between his long fingers.

“You don’t like your food?” You asked him hesitantly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you for the first time in several minutes. “Oh, no it’s fine, it’s good.”

His smile was tight as he set the containers on your nightstand, out of the way.

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t eat any of it,” you pointed out. You hoped your teasing would loosen him up a bit, but he just sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked quietly, your hand reaching out to gently pat his leg. You had never seen him like this before and had no idea how to proceed.

He looked up at you and leaned back against the headboard, biting the skin around his thumbnail. You were getting nervous.

“Rafe?”

“I, uh, had a talk with my dad today,” he muttered.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “And how did that go?”

“About as good as you might think,” he chuckled humorlessly. 

Even though you didn't know his dad, after the many stories Rafe had told you about his father’s temper and general disapproval of him, you hated him.

You sat in silence, hand still on Rafe’s knee, as you waited for him to tell you more.

“He said, uh…” Rafe stalled, like he was struggling to find the right words.

“He said what?” Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation, the unfamiliarity of his tone throwing your thoughts into chaos.

When he still didn’t answer, you whispered, “Rafe you’re making me nervous.”

He responded to this, clearly feeling bad when he realized he had you on edge. He placed his hand over yours and finally made eye contact with you. You tilted your head and tried to read his expression with no luck.

“He told me he wants to make me the VP of Acquisitions at Cameron Development,” he finally said.

You shook your head slightly as a big smile of relief spread across your face.

“Oh,” you half-chuckled. “Well, Rafe, that's great! That’s what you wanted right?” You placed your other hand on his forearm and shook him playfully. “That’s good news, why are you acting like someone died? Jesus, you scared me!” 

He smiled at the gesture, you knew he liked the way you’d mess with him. But then he straightened up more against the headboard, pulling away from you slightly.

“That’s not all he said,” he explained.

“What else? He’s going to give you a million dollars?” You joked.

“No,” he said sternly, making the smile fall from your lips immediately. “He said if I want this promotion that I need to get my shit together and…settle down.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed as you considered his meaning, not quite understanding at first. When it hit you, you pulled your hands away from him completely. “Oh.”

“Y/n,” Rafe whispered, observing the way your lips curved down slightly.

“You’re ending this,” you said flatly, gesturing between the two of you.

“I didn’t say that,” he winced.

“But you are, though, I mean you have to,” you had steeled yourself into an impassive tone, trying to come across as unaffected.

Internally, you were on fire, feeling so foolish for how happy and giggly you had just been, oblivious to the fact that you were essentially being dumped.

Neither of you had ever said this was exclusive, you weren’t a couple, there was no commitment made. Still, the way he’d talk while he was inside of you made your head dizzy with the possibility of it all. There was an alternate universe out there somewhere in the cosmos, where he made you his for real, claimed you in public, put a ring on your finger. Sometimes, when he was so deep you were seeing stars and telling you how much he “loved being inside of his girl” you’d allow yourself to get lost in the fantasy, just for a minute.

Then you’d wake up alone, still poor, still a pogue. You’d light up a cigarette and let the smoke engulf your delusions.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “He made it very clear that he expects me to find someone soon, to get married and start a family. I can’t do that with you, obviously.”

Obviously. Your throat tightened at the hurtful assertion.

“Right, obviously,” you agreed. “I mean I’m just a pogue who lives in this shithole and you should be with someone more worthy of you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Rafe muttered, closing his eyes tight in frustration. “I meant, ‘cause you know, you don’t want all that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay, Rafe, I get it,” you scoffed. “This was never meant to be a long term thing anyway, we’re just fucking.” 

It was such a ridiculous assertion, your trist had gone so far past just fucking, but you needed to convince yourself it was true otherwise there was no way you’d make it out of this unscathed. 

Rafe just blinked back at you for a minute before standing from your bed. You were grateful he was moving quickly, the last thing you wanted to do was let him see you cry.

“Right, just fucking,” he agreed. “And I need someone who can run a house and have a family, y'know, and understands my world.”

Every single word felt like a knife in your gut. You nodded like you couldn’t agree more, shuffling down in your bed and pulling the covers up.

“Okay then,” you fluffed your pillow, as if it was any other night and you were just getting ready for bed. “I hope it all works out. This was fun, though. Lock the door on your way out?”

Rafe looked down at you for a few seconds, your back to him as you settled into your pillows. 

“You got it,” he answered. 

And then he was gone. And for the first time in your life, you cried yourself to sleep.

It was June now, a month had passed since the night you last spoke to Rafe. You had started going out even more than you were before you met him. You friends joked that you were alive from the dead, since you had chosen nights in with Rafe over social events for so many months. 

You were dancing at the same club where you met Rafe so many months earlier. You joined a few of your girls at the bar and waved down the bartender for another drink. 

“...posted on her story,” you leaned in to catch the end of your friend’s sentence. The girls were all leaning over to look at something on one of their phones.

“What are we looking at?” You slurred, already a few drinks deep.

The girl holding the phone told you they were looking at the instagram of a local influencer you all knew of.

You made a fake gagging noise. She was one of the richest girls on the island, infamous among you and your friends for her obnoxiously lavish lifestyle and her overly edited social media pictures.

“Ew, why?” you questioned them, accepting your usual drink from the bartender with a wink.

“Look at what she posted tonight,” your friend holding the phone showed you the screen. 

You studied the photo, your grasp around the cold glass got tighter as you took it in, your knuckles going white. It was a selfie - the girl you couldn't stand all done up in diamonds and red lipstick, gazing up lovingly at Rafe Cameron.

There was no caption, just a little heart-eyes emoji and his instagram tagged.

You never told your friends about you and Rafe. You felt strangely protective over what you had with him, not willing to hear any negative feedback about fucking around with a Kook prince. You knew they wouldn’t understand how perfect and intense your nights with him were. They wouldn’t believe that he was funny, sweet, tender. No one would ever know him like you did.

Like you used to know him. 

You took a sip of your drink and tried to act unaffected by the picture. In reality, your world was crashing around you. You knew he’d find his perfect Kook princess eventually, but you didn’t know it would be so soon, or that it would be her. You half-listened as one of the girls explained that she heard from a mutual friend that they weren’t official yet, but you knew they would be soon enough. Everything would go to plan for him, he’d get everything he ever wanted and you’d just watch through a screen. 

After telling your friends you had a headache, you took a ferry back to the island and walked to your apartment in the dark. It was a questionable choice in this part of town, but you needed the early summer night air to clear your brain. By the time you got back to your apartment you were sober, and yet you still felt like you might throw up.

You ran the shower in your tiny bathroom, letting the steam fill up the space and sink into your pores. The hot water turned your skin red and blotchy, but you couldn’t feel a thing.

BANG BANG BANG.

Your eyes flew open and you turned the faucet off quickly, hands shaking in panic. It was nearly 2 a.m. and someone was pounding on your front door. You wrapped a towel around yourself and padded lightly over the front door. 

“Who is it?” You yelled, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“It’s me,” a deep voice answered from the other side. You peered into the peephole, even though you didn’t need to see him to know who the voice belonged to.

Rafe stood on the other side, his white button up untucked and his tie loosened. It must be the same outfit he was wearing in the picture.

Your body and brain both paused, unable to process the shock of seeing him standing under your porch light.

“What do you want?” You questioned.

“Can I come in please?” His voice was strained, weak even.

“Why?” You said with a guarded edge to your tone.

“Y/n…” Rafe pleaded.

Despite every instinct you had, you opened the door.

He looked frenzied, his hair tousled, and the hem of his suit pants splattered with mud. He still looked fucking hot, his sleeves rolled up a bit, revealing his muscular forearms.

“What happened to you?” You asked.

“I walked here.” His eyes flickered up and down your figure, taking in the sight of you in just a towel, licking his lips.

Your stomach tightened at the hunger in his eyes, but the pain of the last month burned fresh in your mind. Getting over him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and the long, painful process wasn’t even over yet. Seeing that picture tonight was just another sharp spike in the barbed wire he had wrapped around your heart.

“She couldn’t have given you a ride?” You spat at him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to ask who you were referring to.

“I asked her not to post that picture, I didn’t want you to see that,” he huffed.

“Why not? I knew it was coming." You summoned the same unbothered tone from the night he left you.

“We’re not-” he stumbled over his words, looking down at his feet. “She isn’t my girlfriend…”

“Yet." You jumped to the end of his sentence for him. His eyes flew up to yours. “But she will be,” you surmised with a sad smile.

He doesn’t disagree with you.

“She’s perfect,” you continue. “Gorgeous, rich, part of your world.” 

He sighs regretfully, both of you recognizing the words he said to you a month earlier.

“I know,” he agrees.

“Then why did you come here?” 

He doesn’t answer you, just clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes firmly locked to yours.

“She’s everything you wanted,” you point out. 

He nods his head in agreement again, “you’re right.”

“So then why are you here?” You repeat.

He cocks his head to the side ever so slightly, blue eyes locked onto your lips.

“‘Cause she’s not you.”

You wish it didn’t make your heart race, wish it didn’t make your stomach flip, and you really wish it didn’t make you let out a small, nearly inaudible gasp. His heavily lidded eyes fogged over with need as he studied your face intently. Your gaze dropped from his eyes, to his lips, to his heaving chest, to his wringing hands. He flexed his fingers anxiously, and you wished you didn’t know what they felt like buried inside of you.

Your mind was racing, a million thoughts and most of them were warnings. You knew how this ends, the morning would come and he wouldn't be there. And a year from now they’ll be married and you’ll be haunted by this night. Every self-protective instinct you have left screamed in your head, pleading with you to make the right choice.

You were ready to appease the voices, about to close the door in his face, when his fingers reached towards you and just barely grazed the seam of your towel, tugging slightly with the most restraint you think he’s ever shown. All the noise in your head just stopped. Suddenly there was nothing in the entire world except for the man in front of you.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you breathed out hard and fast before grabbing his face in both of your hands and crashing your lips into his.

He lost it at the sound of his name on your lips and the taste of you on his tongue. His hands landed firmly on your waist, squeezing hard. His lips parted yours and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot and greedy. His hands slipped to your lower back, caging you into him with a flex of his biceps. You let out the sweetest little grunt as you jumped up, your arms and legs wrapping around him so he could carry you.

With you in his arms, he walked into your apartment. Still kissing him, you reached out and slammed the door closed. He let go of you with one hand to reach back and turn the lock, a sign of strength as he held up your whole body with one arm like you weigh nothing. He walked you both through your small apartment, not needing to look where he’s going to find your bedroom.

He bent low to drop you on the bed, you released your grip around his shoulders just long enough for him to roughly rip his shirt open and pull it off. He was back on top of you in seconds, lifting you up to scoot you both up to the top of the mattress. 

As his lips moved to your neck, you realized you’re already falling back into your old patterns, with Rafe controlling the tempo and doing most of the work. The familiarity made you anxious, you had gotten so addicted to the way he commanded your body and you weren’t sure you’d survive another detox. When he started rolling his hips against you, you could feel how hard and ready he was under his slacks, and made a decision.

You reached up behind his head and laced your fingers through his hair, tugging hard to separate his lips from your skin. A gasp passed through his lips at the sensation.

“You want me, baby?” You purred.

His brows furrowed, but he was too desperate to play games.

“So badly,” he admitted.

“You want to be inside of me?”

His eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of your dirty words. When he didn't answer, you arched your back and pressed up into his aching cock, letting the towel open just enough to expose your bare core, your wetness soaking into the soft fabric of his pants.

“I need it,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy around me again.”

At this confession, you released his hair and pressed against his chest to roll him onto his back, straddling him. You kissed him again, just as fevered as before. While your mouth clashed with his, your hands undid his belt and he lifted his hips to allow you to pull his slacks down, leaving him in his snug briefs. You bit his lip, smiling smugly when he moaned. You licked a stripe up his neck, loving the salty taste, Rafe already sweaty from how worked up you’ve got him.

You kiss up his neck, until your mouth is pressed into the shell of his ear.

You whispered, “Does she feel as good as me?”

Rafe said your name in warning, clearly not wanting to talk about her while you were on top of him like this.

You pulled his earlobe between your teeth and bit down, making him wince, pleasured by the pain.

“Answer me,” you demanded.

“N-no,” he stuttered as you pressed your hips down hard, your now dripping pussy sliding over the outline of his cock. 

You sat up straight, and he tried to follow you, his head lifting from the pillow, but you laid your hand softly on his chest and pushed him back down.

Rafe watched as you slowly open the towel and dropped it to the floor, revealing yourself completely. He lifted his hands subconsciously, reaching for your tits. You grabbed his wrists and held his hands back, just inches from your skin. 

“Does she make you as hard as I do?” You said with another circle of your hips.

He shook his head back and forth rapidly, relenting to your game. You lowered one of his hands, raising your hips off of him slightly, one more question in mind. 

He inhaled sharply as you dragged his hand against your pussy, his fingers instinctively rubbing with the perfect pressure.

“Does she get this wet for you, baby?”

“Fuck,” he grunted through clenched teeth, “No.”

You leaned back over him, lips hovering over his, your breath intertwined.

“Then fuck me like you’ll never be able to fuck her.”

Rafe’s restraint snapped in half and he flipped you on your back. He ripped his briefs down with one hand, while the other ran over your calf and brought it to his shoulder.

He filled you like only he can, like he was tailor made for you. You clenched around him hard as he pounded into you, eventually lifting your other leg so you could dig your heels into his shoulder. No more words were exchanged, the ecstasy and exertion and emotion all too intense for either of you to form words. 

This is it, you told yourself, tomorrow he’ll belong to her. 

The tops of your thighs pressed into your stomach as he bottomed out over and over again. You hoped he would think the water in your eyes was just a result of the pressure. He must've noticed it though, because he threaded his fingers with yours to soothe you, pressing his forehead against your temple, and panting desperately into your ear.

It only took a few more strokes for you both to come. The last time you heard his voice, he was crying out your name. He filled you completely, and you were still dripping with him when he climbed off of you, pulled his clothes on wordlessly, and left.

You laid still for a long while. No tears came to you this time, a bitter acceptance washing over you. 

He’s gone for good now, leaving you with another wild story to tell and freeing you to throw yourself into the next adventure. And he’ll have a picture perfect life, with the perfect girl.

You both got exactly what you wanted…

…right?

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

part 2

[himasgod]

How would they spend New Year's Eve with you?

Characters: Tartaglia, Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Albedo, Rosaria, Razor Barbara, Eula, Zhongli, Xiao, Yanfei, Keqing, Chongyun, Beidou, Ayato, Thoma, Kazuha, Raiden Ei, Itto, Shinobu, Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Furina, Lyney.

(Happy New Year everyone! I hope all your resolutions come true and that you have a great New Year with your loved ones! Enjoy this, should I do a part 2 with the characters I have left?)

Tartaglia

Childe would invite you to spend New Year's with his family at Snezhnaya. He would want you to experience the warmth of his home, despite the cold outside.

His siblings would be excited to meet you and would share laughs as Childe tries to cook something special (and probably needs help).

At midnight, he would take you outside to watch the snow fall under the lights of the lanterns, holding you close as he whispers, "Making you happy is my greatest achievement this year and all those to come."

Diluc

Diluc would prefer an intimate celebration at Dawn Winery. He would prepare an elegant dinner with fresh ingredients from the region, serving specially selected wine from his cellar.

At midnight, he would take you out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks that the Knights of Favonius organize in the city.

Though he doesn't say it openly, he would make a toast with you, his words laden with sincerity and affection. "To you, and to all the good things that await us this year."

Kaeya

Kaeya would insist on taking you to a party at the tavern. He would want you to enjoy the lively atmosphere and laughter.

Just before midnight, he would pull you away from the hustle and bustle to walk together under the moonlight. "I want to start the year with you by my side," he would tell you with his charming smile.

He would probably steal a kiss from you just as the clock strikes twelve.

Venti

Venti would host an outdoor celebration, complete with music and poetry. He would bring his lyre to play songs as the wind carries his melody throughout Mondstadt.

He would dedicate an improvised ballad to you, telling of the special moments you've shared.

At midnight, he would take your hand and dance under the starry sky.

Albedo

Albedo would prefer a quiet celebration at Dragonspine, showing you the wonders of the winter landscape. He would prepare a warm spot in his lab spot to share a simple yet special dinner.

As a gift, he would give you a painting he made especially for you, capturing a meaningful moment you two shared during the year.

At midnight, as the aurora lights up the sky, he would tell you, “The time we shared is a masterpiece I don’t want to stop painting.”

Rosaria

Rosaria wouldn't be the type to celebrate loudly, but she'd agree to spend New Year's with you if it meant some quiet time.

She'd probably take you to church to light candles and reflect on the year that's passed. Afterward, she'd invite you to walk the silent streets under the snow.

At midnight, as the world seems to freeze in stillness, she'd look at you softly. "I'm not good with words, but you make every day worthwhile."

Razor

Razor would prefer something simple but meaningful. He would take you into the woods of Wolvendom, where he would light a small fire to keep you both warm.

He would share roast meat with you and talk about how he sees the new year as just another cycle in nature.

At midnight, with a shy smile, he would say, "Thank you for being my lupical. I will always take care of you."

Barbara

Barbara would host a quiet evening at the cathedral, singing a special song for you as candles lit the place.

Afterwards, you would walk together through Mondstadt decorated for the occasion, enjoying sweets and watching the fireworks from a nearby hill.

At midnight, with rosy cheeks, she would take your hand. "I promise that this year I will sing more songs that make you happy."

Eula

Eula would take you out to a fancy dinner, making sure everything is perfect for you. Even though she might not admit it openly, New Year's is a chance to show you how much she values ​​you.

Afterwards, she would take you ice skating under the starlight, gently guiding you even though her face shows a slight shyness.

At midnight, she would look directly at you and say firmly, "This year, I want to give you back all the happiness you've given me."

Zhongli

Zhongli would plan a traditional celebration in a quiet place, such as the lantern-lit harbor. He would make a special tea and tell you stories about the ancient New Year traditions in Liyue.

He would hold a small ceremony, writing wishes on red paper and burning them so that the smoke would carry his words to the heavens.

At the stroke of midnight, he would take your hand and look deeply into your eyes. “Thank you for being my companion on this long road.”

Xiao

Xiao wouldn't be quite sure how to celebrate, but he would agree to spend the New Year with you because he values ​​your company more than he admits.

He would take you to a high place, like the Wangshu Inn, so you could enjoy the fireworks away from the noise.

Even though he might not be the most expressive, his actions would speak for him. "I will protect you this year, as I have done so far," he would say with a slight smile.

Keqing

Keqing would be busy organizing events in Liyue, but she would find time to spend the night with you.

She would take you around the lantern-lit streets and buy little lucky charms to share with you.

At midnight, she would allow herself to relax and confess to you how much she values ​​your support. “This year will be better because you are by my side.”

Chongyun

Chongyun would invite you to spend a New Year filled with quiet activities to avoid getting emotionally overheated. Maybe he'd take you to a serene place near Liyue where you could enjoy the winter scenery.

He'd make you a refreshing dessert to share, probably something he learned especially for you.

At midnight, though shy, he'd take your hand and look at you with sincerity. "I hope this year we'll continue to share moments like this… with you everything feels more balanced."

Yanfei

Yanfei, ever practical, would make sure you had everything ready to start the new year off right, even checking your contracts or reminding you to burn incense for good fortune.

You would spend the night wandering around Liyue Harbor, enjoying the fireworks and eating street snacks.

At midnight, she would give you a small amulet she made herself and smile at you. “It’s so that justice and happiness will always accompany you this year.”

Beidou

Beidou would host a party aboard the ship, inviting her crew and close friends. The night would be filled with laughter, stories, and songs as they sailed under the stars.

SHe would challenge you to a friendly drinking competition, but she would also make sure you were comfortable and happy.

At midnight, as fireworks lit up the sky, she would take you to the bow of the ship, wrapping you in her cloak. "With each passing year, I have more reasons to love you!"

Kamisato Ayato

Ayato would host a fancy dinner party at the Kamisato Mansion, making sure everything was perfect. He would invite Ayaka over for some family time before she retired so Ayato could be alone with you.

At midnight, he would take you out to the garden to enjoy a private fireworks display organized by the Yashiro Commission.

He would gently hold your hand and whisper, “I hope this year brings us both peace and happiness.”

Thoma

Thoma would surprise you with a warm and cozy celebration. He would cook your favorite dishes and decorate your house with Christmas decorations (even though it's not Christmas anymore) and handmade garlands.

He would insist on writing wishes for the coming year together, placing them on a decorated tree.

When midnight comes, he would hug you tenderly and thank you for making his life brighter.

Kaedehara Kazuha

Kazuha would prefer a quiet, poetic celebration. He would take you to a cliff where you can watch the sea lit up by fireworks.

He would bring a haiku he wrote especially for you, giving it to you as a gift.

As the sea breeze caresses your face, he would hold you close and whisper, "The wind will guide us to new horizons together."

Raiden Ei

Ei is not used to festivities, but she would strive to understand the importance of the New Year to you. She would take you to the plane of Euthymia for a quiet, private moment.

She would prepare a tea ceremony, practicing diligently so that everything would be perfect. As you share the tea, she would talk about what it means to her to have you in her life.

At midnight, she would take your hand and promise to protect the time you share, saying, "You are a constant light in my eternity."

Arataki Itto

Itto would host a boisterous celebration with his gang members, insisting that New Year's must be an unforgettable party.

He'd set up ridiculous games and challenges for everyone, making sure you'd have fun (though he'd probably take winning too seriously).

At midnight, he'd pull everyone aside and take you to a quiet corner. "Hey, you're the reason this year was the best of my life! Let's smash it together this year too!"

Kuki Shinobu

Shinobu would make sure Itto didn't go overboard, but she would also find time to celebrate with you in her own way.

She would probably take you to a nearby shrine to make wishes for the coming year, helping you write them down on little ema wooden tablets.

At the end of the night, as you two walked home, she would say something like, "Thank you for being my constant amidst all the chaos. I'm sure this year will be amazing because you'll be with me."

Alhaitham

Alhaitham would plan a relaxing evening at home, reading and sharing your favorite books. He would make an effort to cook something special, though he might ask for help if he's unsure of his culinary skills.

At midnight, he would make a simple but honest toast, saying something like, "A new year of learning and growing together."

Although he may be reserved, he would show you his affection with small gestures, like lacing his fingers with yours while you talk.

Cyno

Cyno would propose a New Year filled with games and pranks. Maybe he would even invent a TCG to celebrate the occasion.

Just before midnight, he would look at you with a mix of seriousness and affection, promising that he will always be there to protect you.

Although he is someone who is reserved with his emotions, his actions would show how much he values ​​you.

Tighnari

Tighnari would prefer a quiet celebration in nature, taking you to a special corner of the Avidya forest to gaze at the stars.

He would share with you curiosities about how plants react to the change of year, showing you night-blooming flowers that only open at this time.

As midnight came, he would wrap you in a warm blanket and say, "Though nature's cycles change, my affection for you remains constant."

Neuvillette

Neuvillette would prepare a serene evening in his home, where you can enjoy the tranquility of the water flowing nearby. He would serve you an exquisite tea accompanied by traditional sweets.

At midnight, he would take you to the balcony to watch the lights reflecting in Fontaine water.

He would dedicate to you some soft but meaningful words. "The flow of time seems more bearable when I am with you."

Wriothesley

Wriothesley would arrange something more relaxed but full of detail. Perhaps a walk through the less cold areas of Fontaine or a dinner prepared with simple but well-crafted ingredients

He would surprise you with a small gift, something meaningful that shows how well he knows you.

At midnight, he would hold you tightly, whispering in your ear: "You are the best of this and every year."

Lyney

Lyney would make the New Year an unforgettable spectacle, organizing a private magic show just for you. Each trick would be filled with little details that represent his affection.

He would surprise you with a gift hidden in one of his tricks, perhaps a necklace or a handwritten letter with his deepest thoughts.

When the clock strikes twelve, he would gently take your hands and say, "With you, every year seems like a magical act of fate."

Furina

Furina would turn New Year's into a dramatic, extravagant event. She would throw a themed party in her (and your) honor, making sure everything was perfect.

She would insist that you both dress in fancy outfits, saying that you both must be the center of attention.

At midnight, when fireworks light up Fontaine, she would take your face in her hands and say, "See? We are the brightest couple of this year and of all those to come."

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request, they're opened and would help me so much! <3

[whowrotethenote]

Write a cm punk x reader x Roman smut but they’re basically Paul Heyman in the situation

Disclaimer // Main Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

A/N // Thank you to the anon for that creative ass request. @novamystxcxox sent me something similar, but I had already started this💗 Hope you both like it!

I did not make this x reader because I'm not good at those. I have to give my characters personality, backstory & physical characteristics. That's just my preference.

Also, the smut is reserved for the OC & Roman because... that's my man and I love him.

I do not take requests yet. Mostly because I barely have the time to write as is and I know they would just be sitting in my asks collecting dust like this one was for so long. This was just too good to not pursue. One day. Just not today lol. Okay, bye.

Pairing // Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC (Paula Heyman) x CM Punk

Warnings // Profanity // Smut [minors DNI] // Toxic behaviors // Age Gap

Word Count // 6.5k

“It’s going to be five versus five…”

Paula watched in the adulation that replaces the smug pride after waiting for his music to play. The entirety of Green Bay, Wisconsin buzzed with every emotion given to the human race as they recognized the infamous theme song.

Nothing feels like this. No amount of alcohol. No drug. Nothing can mimic this feeling of a live crowd giving back tenfold what’s given to them. 

He brushed past her, wrapping his hand to meet the rest of them inside the ring. A full on war breaking out the minute he slid inside. Five exceptionally large men, all cleared out the ring by her boys. With ease. It's how she knew she made the right decision. She knew no one else would carry it out like he would.

She made her way to the side of the ring just in time for their stare down. All the faces in the stands losing their minds.

CM Punk! CM Punk! CM Punk!

The pressure of the cheeky grin pushing through was heavy. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t seen Roman in months. Hadn’t seen Punk even longer. But as soon as she called—he came. 

“Why are you here?” She read Roman’s lips as he squinted. 

“To save your ass,” was his reply. 

He was pissed. His pinched brows. The tension in his broad shoulders. The tightness of his mouth. The flexing of his jaw. His hand, opening and closing in a tight fist. No—he was fuming. But that’s only because he couldn’t see the bigger picture right now. That’s where she came in. That’s what warranted her presence in his life a necessity. If it wasn’t more obvious before tonight—amongst all the chaos that had ensued in her absence— it was now shoved in his face.

“Thank you. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Punk smiled unwrapping his hand. “That was only half the job.”

Her head swiveled slightly watching the hustle of the backstage crew. Gathering equipment, everyone mic’d up and moving with a purpose. She missed this. 

She nodded. “He’ll come around. Trust me.” The pressing matter of Roman’s disapproval of his presence was heavy. It lingered above them like a storm cloud. It put the biggest wedge between them. Something that was never there before in their relationship. “I just have to talk some sense into him. He’s emotional right now.”

“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you, Paula.” His eyes, sincere—always opposed to his appearance. The tattoos, the foul language, the attitude—none of it ever complimented his kind eyes. “I’ve seen the way he talks to you. The way he talks to everyone he loves.” He raised his brows.

Immediately defensive and strangely protective of her current client, she shook her head. “He’s just…used to betrayal. He keeps everyone at an arm’s length. It's his way of keeping control.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He stood firm. The affection for his best friend and former manager, overriding any excuse she felt compelled to give him. He didn’t care for any of it.

“I guess I’ll let you go, then.” She scanned him once more, already thinking of her next phase of business. She didn’t have the luxury to sit and tangle in emotions. She was a woman working in sport’s entertainment. They already looked at her as if she was Barbie dropped in the jungle. And they expected her to get invested in her work in a way that was overlooked in men. Flirting and sleeping around and whatnot. But that wasn’t Paula Heyman.

She vowed to never get entangled with clients. It was business first, always. She was about business. That’s what they loved about her. The men—charismatic and dominant as they are—were off limits. But every now and again, she found the lines between client and manager blurring. Things get sticky. Lines get crossed.

Her first blurred line—Phil Brooks. Best in the world. And to the world he was CM Punk. The bad ass that swept the WWE universe off their feet.

They developed a friendship that transcended client and manager. An intimate kiss between the two, one drunk night celebrating another victorious defense of his title reign—almost led to something more. Thankful for the little voice in her head, she stopped it. Things were different after that. She put up boundaries, but it did nothing to ease the ache of what if. That same ache presenting itself right now, like it did every time they found themselves this close and secluded.

“Thank you, Paula.” He held a hand out. A spot in WarGames benefited him as much as it benefited the Bloodline and she made that possible. She gladly took his hand, until he pulled her all the way into him—foreheads kissing. “You think about what I said the other day?” He whispered. 

She sighed deeply. “Punk…”

“I know you remember what it felt like. All those years ago. Just the two of us. Young, wild, and hungry as hell. Kicking ass and taking names.” She released air from her nose reliving the memories. She had never felt more alive than she did with him. She’d be a liar if she didn’t admit to missing those days—and him. But that was then. This was now. She wasn’t that girl anymore. So, she kept that sentiment to herself. But he didn’t need to hear it. Because the same way she was now in synch with her current client, she once was with him. He could still feel it. “It’d be just like that. But better this time.” She opened her eyes that were met with his—specks of olive always so alluring. 

“Just think about it…Alright?” He pulled away as she nodded. Their hands lingering before he completely turned and left her there. 

She looked around, now aware of the world around her again, hoping no one saw their moment. Everything gets back to him here. Him.

Paula swallowed knowing she’d have to face him. She made a menacingly slow stride to his trailer after leaving the arena. She knocked twice. Then three more times, before she heard the familiar voice tell her it was open. 

She walked in the small but familiar space as he removed his OG Bloodline shirt with a heavy sigh, releasing all the weight that’s been dumped on him since losing his title. You’d think the load would be lighter now. The saying is supposed to go—heavy is the head that wears the crown. He had given his crown up, or rather it was stolen by the American Nightmare, and yet he still felt like the King. On top looking down at everyone else, even in his untimely absence. And Solo had presented him with an entire new set of weight with this whole New Bloodline mess. 

The muscles in his back flexed as he slightly stretched and rolled his head. The silence was agonizing. Gnawing at her because she could already feel whatever he wasn’t saying. 

“Where have you been?” He finally questioned. His back still to her. “I’ve been calling.” He took a sip of whatever he poured. 

She squinted at him once he finally turned to face her. His chest—one she’s seen plenty of times—still, a distraction as she attempted to just zero in on his static expression.

“That’s funny. Considering you went M.I.A. long before I did.” She crossed her arms, causing her full breast to push up, catching his attention for a split second. “My calls fell on death ears as well.”

“I asked you a question.”

“After Mania you vanished. You left me here. Vulnerable. Alone. Defending you. Fending for myself—”

The cup met the counter harder than he intended, summoning dead silence again as she swallowed the remainder of her rant. He had already lost his Bloodline before all this—then his title. He didn’t need another crash course on all the ways he’s fucked up. 

“I’m here now.” She spoke again when she felt it was safe enough to. “You’re here. Jimmy’s back. Jey’s back. Sami’s here. Things are back to normal.” As close to normal as possible without Solo and that belt hanging from his waist. 

He gradually nodded. Her words sinking in. He didn’t want to fight. He fought enough tonight. She turned to leave, knowing he preferred solitude at the end of the night.

“Don’t forget who you work for.”

She scoffed. Only Roman would leave her to fend for herself after he lost his little title and decided to tuck tail, just to come back and want to run shit again—as if he never left. But that’s just the kind of man he was. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it and he didn’t care who he had to run through to get it. That’s what drew Paula his way in the first place. Her contract was ending and she was looking for some else to counsel on the roster. There was not a single person that housed half as much charisma and hunger as the Roman Reigns. 

Their journey has been the epitome of a rollercoaster. By his side in feuds and every climb of the ladder. Reaping the benefits of accompanying such a charismatic figure in his own right. Her life went from great to legendary. Now, she sits on the Island of Relevancy as they call it—pockets as fat as they had ever been, and her life looks exactly the way she’d dreamed. 

But no good deed goes unpunished.

“How could I?”

Roman checked the time on his expensive watch again—only moments after the last check. Leg bouncing, jaw ticking, with that infamous stone cold exterior, that screamed he was not to be fucked with. Long fingers smoothed the hair above his plump top lip, until he reached the dark and greying hairs of his chin.

Whatever he was feeling, Paula felt in her bones tenfold. She shifted in her seat, unable to keep still. In the dark room, the only thing they could hear was her irregular breaths and his less than impatient sighs. 

She couldn’t explain it if someone were to ask her. It was as if signing the dotted line and agreeing to manage him put a hex on them. This invisible string—this unimaginable force pulling them together in every instance of every universe formed. She felt this burning,  unwavering loyalty to him. It was sick and twisted. The lengths she’d go to please him—to carry out his wishes. How empty, aimless and useless her life had felt these past months without him. Not even so much as a text from him. It took every fiber of strength to not answer that call. But she needed him—if only for a second—to feel what she had felt since Wrestle-mania. 

His brown eyes pierced her, feeling like another beam of light in place of the one they sat under at the stretched table. Three seats. One at the head where Roman sat of course. Another next to him, always reserved for her. Lastly, a vacant one at the other end. 

She knew what was coming next.

“Paula.” His deep voice made her heart stutter. Out of fear, relief and every other emotion in between.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?” She answered trying her best to keep her voice steady amidst the storm of emotions brewing inside of her. 

“Where the fuck is he?”

Turning to meet his hard stare, she hesitated. Raking through her brain to find the words that wouldn’t tick him off. But considering the flex of his jawline, she could tell it was too late and it didn’t matter what she said—he was already at the edge of the cliff. 

“He’ll be here,” she assured. Only she hoped. Punk just like Roman liked to play mind games. Toy with his prey before he caught it. Please not today, she thought. She prayed their years of friendship and building a bond outside of their old contract was enough to get him to pull through for her. 

“I don't understand. He’s going around calling you his Wisewoman. He’s butting in on family matters. And now he’s got me waiting like I’m some errand boy. As if my time isn’t valuable.” The legs of the chair made a violent shriek as his towering frame began to rise. “Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, nor was he looking for her opinion, but Paula still placed a hand on his forearm to stop him.

“Roman—”

On cue the slam of the heavy door that granted entry to the empty vast room sounded. Paula’s heart sighed watching him make his way to the empty seat. Looking back at Roman she silently challenged him to sit and he obliged. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Punk checked the time on his watch. Paula rubbed her forehead feeling an oncoming migraine. These two men—with the whose dick is bigger games—were going to be the death of her. She had never faced a bigger challenge in all her years in the business. They were going to collectively chase her into an early retirement at the ripe age of thirty-one. 

Just get through the weekend, she thought. Then it’ll all be over…right? A dream. That’s what she was selling herself. As long as that hex she spoke about was still alive between her and her current client, she’d never know peace. With the fuck you, pay me attitude he rendered and big bully on the playground persona he carried with him like a purse, pissing anyone within a five mile radius off—it’ll never be over.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at your watch for. We’re on time. You’re the one that’s late, Junior.”

“Yeah, well I’m here. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But you need something from me. So, I’d think you’d turn your asshole down just a little bit.”

“I don’t need shit from you.”

“You sure about that?” A snort pushed through his throat. “Cause the way you’ve been face down on the mat every week at the hands of your family says otherwise.”

Paula sat back like a child witnessing her parents have their first post-divorce argument. It was no point in getting in between these two. She knew better. They had to figure it out.

“Listen to me—”

“No, you listen to me. I came here for two things. One,” he held his pointer finger up, “to make it very clear that I’m not doing this for you.” He nodded in Paula’s direction. “I’m doing it for her. I’m not here for you—it’s all for her.”

Roman smiled so deeply his dimple showed as fine lines creased around his mouth. He sat back in the chair eyeing them both. Paula could feel the heat radiating off his body as she fiddled with the Bloodline ring he gifted her years ago, refusing to return eye contact. 

“I’m happy for you two. Really, I am.” Whatever feeling was opposite of happy on the spectrum, was what he was actually feeling inside. “Finding each other again after all these years. The story’s lined up perfectly. It’s beautiful. Poetic almost. But, that also has nothing to do with me. That’s y’all shit.” His hand shifted between the two of them. Paula flinched at the heightening aggression she recognized as a precursor before he usually put his hands on someone. “I don’t want—need—whatever you wanna call it—your help tomorrow night.” He spoke like a dragon emitting fire with his every word. 

Over his antics and borderline temper tantrum, Punk adverted his gaze to the only person in the room he deemed worthy of any acknowledgment. She took the deepest breath before finally speaking up for the first time since he entered. 

“My Tribal Chief.” She placed a dainty hand in front of where he sat on the table to disarm him first. He looked down at it as if it was a cuff restraining him. “With the way Solo has gone about things—especially after Crown Jewel—it wouldn’t be very wise to turn down a helping hand.” She spoke like a circus tamer trying to calm the big cat before it went rogue. “Now, I can find someone else. But there’s no one I trust to do this as much as him.”

Roman tried his hardest to accept her words, but the smug smirk on Punk’s face was pulling him in the direction of irrationality. 

“And you.” She continued only turning her head in Punk’s direction. “You think Solo is just going to forgive and forget what you’ve done?” The smirk vanished. “You speak like someone who has a choice, but let’s be all the way real here. If you don’t help, you’ll just move up on the list of people he plans to run through after he wins. We can do more together than apart. You mean to tell me the two of you can’t put these petty ass differences aside for just one night, to conquer a common enemy?”

Both men regarded one another. A silent battle that couldn’t have been louder in the ears of the woman between them—who knew both like the back of her hand. Punk was the first to come forward as he slid his forearm on the table.

“You don’t like me and I don’t like you. That much is clear. But Paula’s right. We can get through one night. One common enemy. One win. One time.”

“One time,” Roman agreed. 

“When it’s all over and done—you and I can have a different conversation in the ring, maybe.” He smiled pushing the chair back.

“What was the second thing?” Roman interrupted his attempt to remove himself from the meeting. The room grew eerily quiet. “You said you came here for two things.” He clasped his fingers together. “What was the second thing?”

Paula’s relief was short-lived as she watched the look he always had when he was up to no good present itself. “To make sure I get what I’m owed when it’s all said and done with,” he revealed. 

Roman scoffed with wide eyes. “I’d owe you a favor?” Punk immediately shook his head. 

“No—no, you don’t owe me anything.” His eyes flicked longingly to his best friend who he’d been removed from all these years. “My best friend—our Wisewoman will owe me a favor.” 

Paula subtly shook her head, hoping her eyes could relay what her mouth feared to speak. She remembered the conversation after he came out to help the Bloodline. How he begged her days before to just consider the idea of coming back home—as he referred to it as. In his corner, supporting him and counseling him. Keeping him on top. Although she never gave him a direct answer, she knew after tomorrow night, it’d go from an inquiry, to something owed—just as he spoke of now. 

Oh, but she was so wrong. About everything. While Punk did yearn for his friend to come back and play for his team—he had a bigger picture in mind. One he didn’t plan on revealing until every thing was all over, to eliminate the risk of this said favor not being carried out. 

Joy reflected in his eyes as he watched the shift of tension build within the two other parties at the table—but that wasn’t his problem. So, he got up and left them to deal with the mess. 

“Wisewoman,” his authoritative voice called to her. 

She winced. Her wish that he would just leave it alone until after WarGames, completely in vain. 

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?”

She met his dark eyes. “What is this favor he’s talking about?” He pressed.

“Uh—” Paula didn’t truly know and she knew that wasn’t an answer he was going to accept. She was only guessing that the favor had to do with their previous conversations. A topic way too touchy to present to Roman. He was already hanging onto his sanity by the thinnest thread. The contingency of losing his Wisewoman after just gaining her presence back, would sever that thread completely.

“Let’s just get through tomorrow night. Okay?” She flashed that pretty smile. Not at all ready to become the object of his wrath—like she’s been plenty of times before. “We can talk about it after. I promise.”

Again, she twisted the band gifted to her by the man seated next to her. Always by his side. Always the master pulling the strings to ensure him and his family stayed out in front. What she tried her best to conceal, was that she needed him as much as he needed her. It was a two way street. It wasn’t just the inevitable betrayal that she anticipated. It was the unprecedented emptiness she’d feel again without him.

WarGames was its namesake. A full on fucking war. A civil war amongst men of the same Bloodline, which made it that much more brutal—because it was rooted in love in place of hate. But in the throws of the obvious war between the original Bloodline and this new one—there was an equally intense war within what was supposed to be two men playing for the same team.

Every side eye and hateful glare that transpired, she shifted and sighed to herself. Anxiety growing until she had a garden full of concern and angst with her at the ringside table with the announcers. Two bombs that always seemed to be ready to detonate at any given moment.

She paced. She ran hands through her blowout frustratedly. She had to do away with the suit jacket. She was hot with worry. She didn’t know which was worse. Them in the confines of a cage outside the ring, or them inside a bigger cage in the heat of battle. She just kept praying that they made it through the night without killing each other and winning of course. 

When Roman wedged a hand out to prevent Punk from entering the match, Paula nearly lost it. She was sure they were going to kill each other before even stepping foot inside the ring, then. Mean ass, she thought as he waved a hand at an exhausted Punk whom he disregarded to help the rest of the Bloodline on their feet.

Proud. That’s what the pinball of her emotions landed on at the end of the night. Her boys fought valiantly and the win was well deserved. Punk and Roman even shook hands. Two of her favorite men, now coming to an understanding. A mutual respect. She did that. 

At the end of it all, Roman met her down the steps of the ring—a strong hand cupping her face. His thumb grazing her cheek three times. I love you was the hidden significant message. Something he started years ago. Too prideful to speak it, he’d stroke the words with his thumb. On her wrist, her arm, her knee. Today, her face. It’s when she knew she made the right decision. The war was over. 

In the wee hours of the night, she found herself in his trailer. He called her over and offered a bottle of champagne that they popped open together in celebration. Things were finally looking like they were coming together after being abruptly dismantled. 

On their second glass now, they stood reminiscing on all it took to even get to this point. How far they had come and how much further they planned to take it. Somewhere in the expensive champagne and the fog of taking a jog down memory lane, Roman was feeling more sentimental than usual.

“You know I appreciate you right, Paula?” Thank you would’ve been too much. But even him extending his appreciation was something she didn’t see often. It had her momentarily melting like ice cream on a stick in ninety degree weather. 

He knew he lashed out more than what was needed. Talked to her like the shit on the bottom of his shoe at times. He threw more than enough responsibility in her lap. Threw a fit when things didn’t go his way. Created more problems for Paula to come behind and clean up, instead of solutions. But his worst crime of all—leaving her alone after losing at Mania. He was ashamed. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ready to face the universe of WWE yet. More importantly, he wasn’t ready to face her. She worked her ass off, day in and day out, to guarantee he made it to the top of the mountain—and he lost it all in one night. 

“Next phase of business—putting that Ula Fala back around your neck where it belongs.” Already onto the next phase—moving the goal post back. “Only halfway there, Chief.” She offered a half smile.

Always so professional—so well put together. Composed. He always yearned to see her come undone. Touched himself to vivid imaginative flashes of what that must look like. Loose curls cascaded around her, head rolled back and mouth agape. Him beneath her, admiring his new canvas—her. He couldn’t help but to paint a picture of what Paula Heyman would look like as a mess, losing control—just for him. Desperate. Begging.

She was strong. Resilient. But even the most unwavering women—solid as a sculpture in Italy—could always use the reactive force of a stronger man. 

Those lips. They were naturally pouty and plump. Every time she talked, he found himself drawn to them and how they curved at certain letters. He deemed them perfect. Only able to use his imagination, he thought about how they’d feel wrapped around him. How’d they look. 

“When’s the last time somebody fucked you?” He blurted out. She nearly choked on the bubbling champagne. He stood unmoved, expecting an answer.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” He placed his glass down. His dick pressed uncomfortably against his pants. He was losing every ounce of patience and composure he had. He was done playing games. He respected her and her hustle, but it did nothing to put out the fire inside of him whenever he watched her interacting with other men—especially that motherfucker Punk.

“And I’m not talking about the last time you had sex—no. I mean the last time somebody fucked you so hard, you forgot to breathe. So good you felt it everywhere. It was all you could think about after the fact.” 

Her skin heated up to an uncomfortable degree. The kind that warrants tiny tingles and possible rashes all over your body. Her breathing pattern kicked up at the smoldering look in his eyes. She couldn’t mistake his intentions now. Especially after her eyes flickered to the bulge in his pants. 

He made a step toward her. The heavy thud of his giant boot meeting the floor sounding as a doomsday soundtrack for her professionalism. She knew she was in trouble. “Roman—”

“Shh,” he hushed her and smiled wickedly. His sharp canines on display. He relieved her of the glass and sat it on the counter her ass was rested on. She didn’t even understand how he’d gotten so close so fast. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat, as it was booming in her own ears now. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let me thank you properly.” The wicked smile had vanished in a flash and in its place was an intense concentration. His brown pupils blown and trained on her lips.

He was going to kiss her. And as much as Paula’s head screamed no—her body conforming to his and her mouth falling open before he even reached her, told a completely different story.

The air around them was so charged, if anyone else walked in they’d be electrocuted on sight. His fingers found their way into her hair, tangling and fisting it, earning a gasp from her. Leaning in, his tongue swept her mouth fiercely. He didn’t need to test the waters with a timid peck. For what? She was his Wisewoman and he planned on making that very clear tonight. In the sickest part of his membrane, he wished he could sit Punk down and make him watch what he planned to do to her. 

Paula’s hands found his muscular and tanned arms as his free one roamed the meaty flesh of her ass though her skirt. Always galloping about in the highest heels, shortest skirts and tightest dress pants. He craved to know what it felt like under his palms. To squeeze and knead it as he was now. His dick was so stiff, it was almost painful. 

The eruption of their kiss quickened. It was messy now, as they couldn’t even keep up with their own lust—passionate and scorching with the heat of hell. 

“How long?” He mumbled in between the kiss. Still, expecting an answer. 

“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had blown her mind in bed. She tried for years to make some sort of connection, but it was pointless. This job—governing Roman, had become her life. It consumed her and men could see that. She opted for the occasional fling here and there, but they were all pointless. Always leaving her dissatisfied and half full. So she scrapped the idea of men and dating altogether. 

Roman roughly turned her by the hips. Pushing his pulsing member on her ass and growling in her ear at the friction of her writhing against him. She was soaking and he barely touched her.He could smell her and it ignited the beast in him. 

This was a new frequency of intimacy for her. No man had ever been so exhilarating and demanding in his approach. He commanded things from her body without even speaking a word. It was sorcery, really. 

She felt his hands next. Big, calloused, and firm. They slithered over her thighs as his warm breath and facial hair tickled her ear. Under her skirt, they disappeared until it was bunched around her waist. She got lost in the heat and hardness of his body. Her eyes popped open after hearing the violent tear of stocking material. The cotton of her panties snapped next. 

“Ro—Unnh!” 

She gasped violently at his entry and he wasn’t even halfway in yet. No condom. Nothing between them except passion and the longing of two people who underhandedly craved each other for years and couldn’t do anything about it. Hatred and frustration, that only two people who loved one another could muster—sprinkled on top.

He eased his length in, inch by inch, watching the pinched look on her gorgeous face. This was better than he had imagined. Crinkle between her curved brows, hands spread on the wall, mouth as wide as it can go. All because of him.

He stretched her out to his liking, until he reached the end and then pulled back. He slammed back in almost losing his nut at the squeeze she granted around his thickness. It felt like the best hug he ever received—warm, wet, and tight as fuck. A small hand slithered between them, to which he easily caught. Using one strong hand to pin both her wrists together above them on the wall. 

Leaning back slightly, he admired the view. Her round ass perked up and pushed out. Puffy lips  wrapped tight around him, glistening under the lights of his trailer. The deep line in the center of her arched back with a thin layer of sweat.

“You’re perfect. Just like this.”

“Roman,” she whined. Frustrated and helpless to move as he had her trapped. 

He smiled against the side of her face. “You feel so good to me.” Another gasp as he began to push in and out at a steady pace. Squishy and sloppy sounds filling the small space around them. “Can’t believe you kept this shit from me for so long, baby.” His free hand came down on her left ass cheek before he dug his finger in her hip, guiding her up and down his massive dick. He let her adjust and find her own rhythm—too fixated on the little sounds from her mouth and the contortions of her pretty face, to do anything himself. “Yeah. Keep throwing that pussy back on me.”

“It's so big,” she moaned. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He talked too much shit to not have the means to back it up. He grinned smugly.

“You can take me. Right, baby?”

Struggling to locate her voice she just nodded against the wall profusely. Afraid he might stop and put an end to this immeasurable sensation he awakened. It hurt so good. He was creating a monster and he didn’t even know it.

“Keep them hands right there. Don’t move,” he instructed. He used his own to grab handfuls of her ass in both palms, stretching her wide so he could get a clear shot of her wetness pulling on him. Every time he withdrew she sucked him back in. A trail of white stuff lingering as evidence to how good he was making her feel. “Making a fucking mess,” he grunted. He let his possessive hold go, loving the recoil of her ass on his pole. It was hypnotizing. He questioned how long he could hold out like this. 

Against what his body was advising him—which was to pace himself—he violently pounds into her drenched hole over and over and over again. Beating her up. 

“Oh my—fuck! Yesss.” She was a glutton for punishment. His punishment disguised in gratitude. His frustrations took control of the wheel. Her going ghost on him was unacceptable. He was losing his fucking mind. A fact he’d never admit out loud. It didn’t go well with his, I don’t need anybody—head of the table—persona. 

Teeth barred down and upper lip curled into a snarl, he continued his assault, but that little pussy packed some power. It fought back. A fight he wasn’t prepared for. She was leaking. Juices running down her toned leg and his balls that hit her clit with every connect. 

“Damn, girl.” His head falls back for a second. 

“Right there—oh my goddd!”

“He can’t help you right now.” He teased huskily. 

“Please, Ro.”

“Please what? Huh?”

She didn’t even know what she was pleading for. Mercy? Release? She wanted more of everything. More of him, if possible. 

They found themselves in the space of his bedroom. He wanted to try every position, but he knew he’d have her in here until this same time the next day to fulfill that fantasy. So he opted for the position where he could see everything.

He had her on full display. Button down now completely off, her breast hung freely over the lace bra after he pulled them out. Stockings still obliterated, the hole he made had grown. He could see everything. Her swollen lips surrounding her poking clit. The tight ring of her ass that he vowed to play with later. The wetness smeared everywhere. 

He gripped himself—heavy and strong—at the base to ease back in where they both needed him, but not before slapping it down twice, loving how reactive she was to every little thing. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she hadn’t been touched in years.

She was enamored with his body. The way his smooth bronze skin stretched over every defined line and cut. How his tattoos—reflecting the armor of a Pacific warrior—danced with every flex of muscles. He had the body of a god. If only it wasn’t attached to such an asshole.

His hand found her breast. He pinched the chocolate nub until it hardened again. 

“Push ‘em together for me.”

Hastily, she cupped both D cups together. Her chocolate peaks to the forefront as they bounced with every salacious thrust of his hips. 

He planted two swollen fists on either side of her head to lean all his weight down. His mouth latched onto her, igniting a tingle in her clit as she clenched around him. 

“Mmm,” he hummed like he was tasting the most delicate and richest piece of chocolate straight from the factory. Flicking, sucking and swirling. He was in heaven as she watched in awe. The most dominant man on the current roster, feasting on her. He bit down on one nipple causing her to jolt up slightly. One last suck as he pulled back, releasing her, and leaving her nipples tender. “Tastes sweeter than you look.” He bit down on his bottom lip. 

He hooked his hands under her knees and pushed until they met the bed to get a deeper angle. The sounds—loud and erotic slapping of flesh, as he buried himself inside of the softest place on earth. She fit like she was molded specifically for him. And in this moment, you couldn’t convince him that she wasn’t.

“You’re mine.” He growled in between pants. “You belong to me. You hear me?” There it was again. That deadly sense of loyalty encompassing her. The looming of Punk’s claim and this damned favor, hanging above his head. 

“Yes,” she barely whispered. 

“Yes, what?” He pushed. Thrust growing erratically sharper and more intense.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief.” 

Satisfied, he rewarded her with another overpowering, sloppy kiss. His hair covered them both. Her hands came up to cup his face—grabbing desperately at his beard as their tongues tangled. But his mission was only halfway complete. He wanted that nut. She earned it. She made him feel like a winner even in the absence of a title or Ula Fala. 

He didn’t want to, but he rose up breaking the intimate kiss. Picking his pace back up. All the way in and all the way out. Hitting that spot that had her pulling at her own hair. Eyes rolled back into her brain like she was possessed.

“I wanna feel you cum on this dick. Come on,” he begged. “Cum for me Paula. Cum for Your Tribal Chief.”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Like an unforgiving flood coming through a broken dam, she exploded on him just as he requested. Forgetting to breathe. Shaking uncontrollably—she felt him everywhere. 

Attentively, he ogled at every change in her beautiful face, every shake of her body—as she unraveled on him, shedding every bit of composure she had left. “That’s it,” he commended breathless. Loving the scene before him. His big palms, rubbing up and down the length of her soft thighs and stomach, to help her come back to center. 

She was shook. World completely knocked off its axis to the point where tears threatened to spill from the corners of her almond eyes. 

She knew working for him came with its perks—but this? This shot straight to the top of the list of all the benefits that came with being his special counsel.

A/N // Of course, if you read it or even a portion, thank you. Feedback is always welcomed💗

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[thestrawberrygirly]

150 things to do when you're bored 🧸🍰🍓

make a journal and write down about your dreams.

try baking a cake.

draw sanrio characters.

learn choreo of the song 'war of hormones' by bts.

stream bts songs or your favorite band's songs.

clean your room.

play any cute mobile games like Purrfect Tale, Resonance of Ocean, Resortopia, Sumikkogurashi Farm, Rhythm Hive, HelloKittyWorld2 Sanrio Kawaii and more. (these are available on android)

plant some trees.

watch any ghibli studio movie.

declutter your phone.

watch some aesthetic japan vlogs.

read a book.

do some skincare.

make a playlist on spotify about the songs you would like to play if you owned a cute café.

write a book about your dream world.

do pilates.

try coquette aesthetic makeup.

start crocheting.

go for a bicycle ride.

have picnic with friends or alone.

watch youtube videos.

go stargazing.

try skateboarding.

go for a walk and observe the beautiful nature and then journal about it.

try cooking with your partner or friends

make a youtube channel.

start a side hustle.

start blogging.

read your favorite blogs.

listen a podcast.

write a song about your favorite person.

make music on bandlab.

write down goals you want to achieve.

learn new language.

re-organise your closet.

take a day off from social media.

take a nap.

organise your pinterest boards.

write a poem.

write a letter to yourself.

make a cute diy necklace.

invent a cute game to play with your friends.

learn to count in another language.

look through a cookbook and try something new.

water the plants.

pray.

try meditating for 5 minutes.

read my blogs :) <3

draw cute doodles.

make cute things out of air dry clay.

create cute diy stickers.

bake cookies in cute fun shapes.

build a blanket fort and read a book inside while eating snacks.

create a scrapbook of favorite memories.

paint rocks with colorful cute designs.

make cute bracelets for your bestfriend.

write a cute story about fairies.

make homemade popsicles with fruit juice.

watch the sunset or sunrise and take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature.

go for a nature walk and collect interesting leaves or stones.

have a movie marathon with your favorite films.

have a fashion show with clothes from your closet.

design and decorate your own phone case.

create a memory jar filled with notes of happy moments.

design and paint your own ceramic plant pots.

learn about law of attraction.

do research about the history of something of your interest like 'how it was invented?', 'who started it?'.

create your own font.

play an old online game.

try a coloring app.

work on your wish list.

paint your nails.

take a bubble bath.

start a garden.

make your own short movie with your phone.

complete a puzzle.

write about the most beautiful dream you have ever saw.

organize your house.

make a smoothie.

put an appreciation message on a balloon and let it go.

complete a challenge like 30 day self care challenge, 30 day writing challenge and more.

visit a local art gallery.

watch a lecture or TED talk.

read a self-help book.

read a book on astronomy.

click aesthetic pictures of nature.

make your phone look aesthetic.

give your bedroom a makeover on ghibli studio aesthetic.

create a toothpick tower.

practice writing from your non dominate hand.

write about what a day in your dream life looks like.

take out your pet for a walk.

make something wearable for your pet.

learn about how to beat procrastination.

make a little plushie out of your old socks.

learn a new skill.

make a cute website in carrd.co.

write down 10 things you're grateful for.

sit by a river.

visit a local bakery.

walk around a lake.

scroll on pinterest about nature.

walk in the rain.

watch classic films.

watch fashion shows on youtube.

get a haircut.

drink water, take care of yourself <3

read some beauty tips.

watch ballet videos.

write a quote on moon.

say yes to everything for a day.

read some interesting articles.

watch your comfort movie.

write a fiction story.

make your own calendar.

have an indoor picnic with your partner.

write a list of things you will do with your bestie.

crochet something for your loved one or yourself.

learn graphic designing.

write 10 beautiful things about yourself.

make paper stars.

explore interesting websites.

explore your neighborhood.

make a yummy snack.

make hwachae.

try origami.

write a list of your favorite songs explaining why you love it.

watch run bts.

read some manga.

make strawberry cake.

watch conan gray's old vlogs <3

watch onegai my melody :D

design and launch a cute social media challenge to spread positivity and creativity online.

host a themed dinner party with your friends where everyone dresses up and brings a dish from a different culture.

have a spa day at home complete with homemade facemasks, bath bombs, and soothing music.

design a pretty jewellery.

draw your dream house.

try out guided meditation videos (you will find in youtube).

learn about a new culture.

make homemade jam.

do a random act of kindness.

research and plan a future trip.

try a new type of workout video.

research and practice self-defense techniques.

try a new type of creative writing (screenwriting, playwriting, etc.).

try a new type of DIY beauty product (lip balm, body scrub, etc.).

watch a documentary.

learn about constellations and stargaze.

practice calligraphy.

do a riddle.

[anhniedraw]

Trying to do a manga page with characters that are not adeuce surprisingly. Also i don’t understand how azul’s hair works help.

I wanna explore Yuuki’s relationship with other characters and first up is Ruggie!

This is very much a platonic relationship. Think Yuuki like Ruggie fan or like how Jack admires Leona.

I guess i should talk about why Yuuki admires Ruggie so much but i wanna save it for later. For now Yuuki saw a lot of her self in Ruggie while she didn’t grow up in poverty, back then she had time where moneys weren’t available so she would have to go out and earned some. So she really admires Ruggie for his hustle even if through pickpocketing. The scene where he hauled all the cafeteria foods for the kids back home made a strong impression to Yuuki too.

I would say Ruggie would not know how to deal with her at the beginning. Not often that someone’s opinion of him is positive instead of being annoyed or pissed at him for stealing their wallets (they should have keep it hidden better then). Maybe he should have noticed when she readily handed her wallet over. Ruggie can’t sense any ulterior motives when he interacts with Yuuki and she always looks excited when he talks to her. Ruggie being ruggie take advantage of this situation and swingle his ways into getting free lunches from her. Yuuki is aware of this and doesn’t mind and that confuses Ruggie to no end as she is probably as broke as he is, living in ramshackle and all.

Their relationship would started out pretty one-sided but later in the future they could become good friends.

[catcze]

I see you miss writing for his grace wriothesley,

Maybe, you can try with, uh,

you who drop by his office everyday, literally everyday whenever the man is by the fortress?

Bringing lunch and always kiss him wherever, be it by the cheeks, temples, forehead, or lips before leaving him alone again to continue his work?

Making him always anticipated for the short moment of solace, making him looking forward to your kisses—?

Only for you suddenly just stopped kissing him and only drop the lunch box, and left him behind. Earning a sad puppy all alone by the office?

You can ignore/delete this if there's already a similar fic of yours with this prompt 🙌🏻

— anywho, have a great day! 💜

!! This is sooo cute? I can just imagine the sorta shocked/hurt puppy dog look he gets on his face when you skip the kiss one day lol TT

Wriothesley is pouting. The man is honest to archons pouting, and you have no idea why.

Ever since you had returned to the fortress from your daily toil at the palais mermonia, your beloved has been huffy and pouting, only giving you curt answers and all but sulking in his chair when you ask him what's wrong. He's wrapped himself up in his paper work rather than wrapping himself up with you, even going so far as to seclude himself in his office during the usual dinnertime.

"I don't know either," Sigewinne whispers to you as you both have dinner in the cafeteria. "He's been like this for the whole afternoon. When I walked into his office after lunch he was sulking in his chair, looking mopey, when he looked completely fine this morning."

The melusine's words scratch a part of your brain, the one that tells you that you forgot something today, but that you're not entirely sure what it is. You wouldn't be surprised if you did, honestly— the palais was jam-packed with things that needed doing, papers that needed moving, and people that needed talking to. In the hustle and bustle of today, it's inevitable for you to miss something.

it all comes to a head after dinner, when you're relaxing in your and Wriothesley's shared quarters. It's late in the evening at this point, and you're already relaxed in the warm bed, a book in your hand as you wait for Wriothesley's sulking to crack and for him to eventually come and tell you what's got him in such a funk.

And it doesn't take long, either— soon enough, the door to your quarters opens and shuts quietly, and your beloved is standing by the bedside, looming over you, still with that pouty expression that, too anyone else, might seem out of character.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you. Instead, you bookmark the last page you were on and set it on your side table before pulling off the blanket and opening your arms— a clear invitation. One that Wriothesley takes immediately, all but dropping into your hold and wrapping his arms around you. He buries his face in your neck, his heavy weight pressing down on your person and pinning you to the bed, but you can't be bothered to really care about that.

With one hand running through his hair, petting him while he holds you, you ask— "Something happen?"

Wriothesley huffs a breath to your neck and the warm air dances on your skin. You can feel his cheeks warm in embarrassment, maybe, as he mumbles something incomprehensible.

"Hm?"

He does it again, and you tug on his hair in retribution, drawing him away from the crook of your neck enough that you hear what he says.

"...didn't kiss me during lunch," the fearsome duke mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes, scowling with embarrassment at his own childish admission.

You blink, turning the words over in your mind as you try to recall the events of today's lunch and— yeah. He's right. Your brain had been so muddled up with things you had to get done once you returned to the palais that you had left his office in a flurry after dropping his lunch off at his desk.

At the realization that that was why he had been pouting and sulky the whole day, you can't help but giggle.

Wriothesley, in turn, scowls at you, even as the flush on his cheeks darken considerably at the admission.

"Oh, I'm sorry my love," you coo once your giggles die down, your cheeks hurting from smiling at how sweet and funny and needy this big scary warden of yours is. "Let me make it up to you, hm?"

Wriothesley is still pouting as your hands weave in his hair and you tug him down, but the expression is quickly wiped off of his face as you make up for lunchtime— you pepper kisses on his forehead, his nose, his temples, his cheeks. Your lips seek out every inch of his face, layering it gently in your amused, endeared affections.

It's only when Wriothesley is smiling softly, melting bonelessly into your embrace and all but humming as you kiss him that you stop, pulling away to grin at him.

"There. I think my debt has been repaid, no?"

[call-of-daydreams]

18th Century CoD Characters - Types of jobs they have

Before we start this, I am well aware that most of this farming was not a thing in the 18th century. While I am researching to keep everything correct, I decided to add other forms of farming to make things more interesting. This long drabble does not only talk about the type of farming they do but also possible side jobs they might do.

DO NOT copy, translate, or change this drabble in any way. This is my work and my research. I've spent a lot of time researching and I would appreciate it if it was enjoyed but not stolen. Reposts and comments are more than welcome, and feedback is always accepted.

Word count: 2,325

Estimated reading time: 9 min 18 sec

John Price-

He absolutely owns and maintains a subsistence farm. He loves to provide for you and possibly kids but he also likes providing for his community. I also feel like he dedicates all of his time to maintaining his farm and expanding it to be able to accommodate his community so he has no “side job” per say but he definitely helps his mates out with their side hustles when he needs something to keep himself busy. However he mostly spends his free time hanging out with Simon, helping Simon repair guns.

Subsistence farming is all about personal use. This is the type of farming you do to feed yourself or your family but can also be used to feed your community. Mostly done for trade not profit.

Johnny MacTavish-

Absolutely owns a dairy farm and no one can tell me otherwise. He owns just enough cows to not only provide for the two of you and maybe future kids but also to trade with your neighbors that are about a mile away but you're still close to. cough cough John, Simon, and Gaz cough cough. Anyways, since he doesn’t own a lot of cows he doesn’t have to do much other than to make sure none of them go lame and to make sure they have water and are fed. Speaking of, he does grow his own hay so he doesn’t have to buy it from anyone. It’s cheaper. He also starts to dabble in blacksmithing because he found out that he can make his own gates so he can expand his land whenever he wants to for his cows to roam. Though, you do tell him to stop before he really injures himself, he tells you and I quote “It’ll be fine lass, it’s cheaper this way anyhow.” You do also help milk the cows, it saves his back.

Dairy farmers are responsible for caring and managing the milk production process. They oversee the feeding, breeding, milking, and herd management. They also grow crops to feed the herd.

Simon Riley-

He is a Commercial farmer. He grows crops and raises animals to make money so he can spoil you. Almost every week he goes into town to sell his crops or to sell an animal for money or sometimes trade. However, there is an animal from almost every species that you made him promise he can’t sell. The hen that has pretty spots and lays the brown eggs you collect every morning for breakfast, he can’t sell. The cow that Johnny sold you years ago that’s not making milk anymore because she can’t have anymore calves, Simon can’t sell. You helped him raise that girl since she was a baby, he can’t just give her away. Anyways, when he’s not working on his farm with any free time he has where he’s not spending with you he’s being a gunsmith. He’s a very well known gunsmith in town and people are always going to him so they can fix their guns or so they can sell them for extra money.

Commercial farming implies that you raise animals and crops and you sell them to the open market to make profit. It performs as a large-scale production of crops and livestock. Usually, commercial farming is a full time occupation.

Kyle Garrick-

I see him as a rancher. I feel like Kyle is the one who has all sorts of animals such as cows (obviously), chickens, horses, pigs, goats, sheep, etc. (Between me and you he definitely is the one who gives Simon's wife all the animals Simon can’t sell because he likes to rile Simon up). That’s not to say Kyle is safe from you, his wife. Because there are animals that he owns that he cannot get rid of either because of you. He simply cannot say no to you. You even talked him into letting you feed and keep a stray cat even though he insisted that the two of you have enough animals to take care of. The power you hold. Also you use the wool from the sheep to make/patch up Kyles' clothes. As for his side job I believe he’s a printer. He loves it because he gets all the town's gossip to print out and distribute but you also enjoy it because you’re kinda the first one to know everything. And best believe that he validates his sources so he asks questions. He doesn’t want to be the one putting out false information. In conclusion, he loves working on his farm but he loves gossiping and could spend hours doing so.

Ranching is a large farm for raising horses, beef cattle, or sheep. Ranchers care for and manage livestock. Thet maintain the land and equipment needed for livestock care. They oversee breeding and medical treatments of their animals. And finally, they handle tasks related to farm equipment and facilities.

Kate Laswell-

Definitely see Kate as a Mixed farmer. She likes to be very hands on with his work so why doesn’t she not only take care of animals but also crops. I feel as though the only animals you two would raise on the farm would be horses and barn cats. Don’t ask me why, it’s just a feeling I have. Also there is a little garden that she set up on the side of the house just for you so you could have fresh fruit and vegetables to make delicious meals for you and her. As for a side job can we see Kate as a cobbler?? Because I can vividly see it. She makes you the most comfortable shoes she can so you don’t have to worry about your feet aching after a long walk around town, looking at all the different items being sold. Of course she has other customers than you but you're like her little guinea pig when it comes to testing new materials or a new style of shoes because she knows that you’ll be honest with her.

Mixed farming takes place when your farm comprises at least 10% and at most 49% of animal breeding. This means that your profit is made from around half of the animal products and around half of the crops you’re selling. Mixed farmers engage in agricultural practices that combine crop cultivation and livestock rearing on the same farm. This approach allows farmers to diversify their production, use resources more efficiently, and improve soil health through crop rotation and animal manure.

Valeria Garza-

She’s a hay and wheat farmer. Hay is a very high-demand product and why would she not grow it in bulk? Why would she not sell it when there’s a drought and farmers run on hay? Why wouldn’t she want to make a profit with something that’s in such high demand? And because you have wheat in supply year-round baking has become your new favorite hobby. Especially when it comes to trying new flavor combinations. She loves coming inside after a long day of work to a nice cozy home that smells absolutely delicious. She also steals a sweet treat to taste when you’re not looking. Valeria’s side job? Something with alcohol. I’m thinking about her being a tavern keeper or a bootlegger, or both. It’s Valeria, I gotta let her keep her bad girl persona in some way. She definitely runs her tavern under the guise as something else and only select people know that her tavern exists. There used to be more, I wonder where they went-

A hay farmer will always be popular, simply because the demand for hay has increased tenfold in the last couple of years or so. The more time passes, the higher the demand for livestock is. Which is why commercial farmers need more and more hay to feed their animals. Therefore growing hay is quite a lucrative means of making money. Farming wheat is about the same thing.

Konig-

Konig is also a rancher. I’m sorry but you’re telling me that when you see this big beefy man you don’t automatically think about him being a rancher. That’s like the only type of farming I can picture him being into. Even though he is so big, I can see him being extremely careful to not hurt his baby goats or to not hurt one of his chickens. He also most definitely built you a garden so you can feel helpful around the house. After all, he is a big man. And that big man has a big appetite so it’s important to him that he has fresh big meals for each of his three daily meals. I’m leaning towards Konig being a logger as his second job. I don’t really know why, but I feel like based on his size and muscle, he could cut down trees and split logs so fast. I also may or may not be thinking about him building you both a little cabin and little buildings where you can go to do your hobbies in peace.

Ranching is a large farm for raising horses, beef cattle, or sheep. Ranchers care for and manage livestock. Thet maintain the land and equipment needed for livestock care. They oversee breeding and medical treatments of their animals. And finally, they handle tasks related to farm equipment and facilities.

Keegan-

Pastoral farming. Keegan likes to keep busy and therefore he likes to keep a lot of animals. Mostly for selling their products at the market (Most of which you make). Butter, yogurt, bottling milk, eggs, and meat (which he takes care of) gets sold for profit. Yes, you and Mrs. MacTavish have a little bit of friendly competition between you both since your husbands sell almost the same thing. However, you both help each other out, especially since her husband Mr. Mactavish keeps her with child almost year round. For his side job I can see him as a cabinet maker for some reason. I don’t know why I see this but I like to imagine that he makes good profit from it since everyone needs the extra storage space or just to replace cabinets. Plus, it would be hot watching him using a handsaw and cutting wood from the kitchen window, leaning on a counter he built.

Pastoral farming essentially refers to raising livestock and poultry for mass production of animal products such as milk, chicken eggs, or meat. The animals need to be kept in special shelters, and they are usually fed every type of food out there that can get them bigger and more efficient at producing the animal products.

Phillip Graves-

Organic farming. You cannot tell me that he doesn’t seem like the type of man to only eat organic fruits and vegetables. So, why wouldn’t he also have you eating only the best? This is more of a side job for the both of you and not a full time farming job. But he has been thinking about introducing some more animals into the two of your lives instead of the 2 dogs you two own. Phillip’s side job is definitely him being a saddler. Yes, you both own horses because that's the main form of transport and he just wants to make sure that whenever the two of you ride somewhere that you're comfortable. So one day he dabbled in fixing your saddle to make it more comfortable for you and after that you urged him to make a profit off of this new found skill. 

Organic farming is the type of food that you get without the use of modern artificial additives, like for example pesticides or any sort of chemical fertilizers. On top of that, they’re natural in the sense that they’re not treated with radiation, industrial solvents, etc.

Alejandro Vargas-

Sedentary Farming. He owns a large property and he’s invested heavily in taking care of his animals. He likes this type of farming since it is very simple and it easily makes him money. Yes, he does use most of his land just to go horseback riding with eachother but without having to go be social with other people. Not that you both don’t like social interaction, Alejandro loves talking to people. In fact, you can’t take this man anywhere without him finding someone he knows but sometimes he just wants to be alone with you spending some much needed quality time with you. Outside the house that is. Alejandros side job is being a gunsmith. Like Simon, I just feel like this job is very fitting and I can’t really think about a job that is a better fit. He mostly fixes guns while asking Rodolfo to make a certain part that he’s missing so really the two of them are a partnership.

Sedentary farming is the complete opposite of nomadic farming. Instead of moving with the herd, constantly changing your location in search for greener areas, you use the exact same land every year and you don’t move the animals in the slightest. It’s a good choice if you wish to heavily invest in an area and not worry about expanding anytime soon. It is a very simple lifestyle, but it is also effective at making you a lot of money.

Rodolfo Parra-

I don’t know why but I see him as Alejandro’s farm hand. They’re best friends so why wouldn’t they help each other out? If anything they both invested into the land so they work together to raise the animals. Plus, with the two of them, it takes the workload off of both of their shoulders so they can spend more time with their wives. And something about Alejandro and Rudy being best friends and raising their kids as almost siblings does something to me. Rodolfo’s side job is being a blacksmith. Since he works as Alejandro’s farm hand most of his day is spent making sure everything is in order. He takes up blacksmithing so he can better his job.

[blackenedsnow]

Hello! I love your writing and I hope you're having a good day/night! Could you do Sonic dating someone with social anxiety and is also an introvert? I struggle with social anxiety myself and have a hard time speaking up sometimes, especially with new people. Sonic is a comfort character of mine that I'd think would do his best to help their anxious partner in situations where they're overwhelmed. Take your time write this! No pressure at all!❤️

sonic dating a reader with anxiety ; headcanons

WARNING: Anxiety

PAIRING: Sonic the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Thank you so much for trusting me with this request! I poured a lot into Sonic’s support here. Remember, there’s no pressure to be anything other than yourself here. Take care, and know you’re never alone in this! ❤️

Sonic had always been able to talk to anyone without a second thought, so it took him a little while to fully grasp the extent of your social anxiety.

At first, he’d notice that you’d freeze up or look uncomfortable when around new people, or that you’d stay in the background at gatherings.

But once he understood, it clicked for him in a big way.

The idea of his favorite person being scared or overwhelmed really tugged at his heart, and he made a silent promise to help in every way he could.

Whether it’s a small gathering with his friends or a larger event, Sonic keeps you close, always aware of your comfort level.

If he sees you start to withdraw or tense up, he’ll step in smoothly.

Sometimes it’s with a joke to defuse the situation, sometimes with a quick distraction, or just a comforting hand on your shoulder as if to say, “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

Sonic is very perceptive of when things start to become too much for you.

If you’re at a crowded place and he notices you’re feeling uneasy, he’ll lean in with a gentle,

“Wanna go somewhere quieter?”

If you nod, he’ll flash you a reassuring smile, and in an instant, he’ll whisk you away to a quieter corner or outside where you can catch your breath.

He’s never pushy, always giving you the option to leave if that’s what you need.

Sonic has a knack for knowing when to use his lighthearted, playful approach to help lift the weight off your shoulders.

Sonic quickly picked up on the times when speaking up felt impossible for you.

If you’re at a restaurant and struggling to order or around others who are dominating the conversation, he’ll step in for you without missing a beat.

“Hey, can we get a little more space here?” or “Mind if we let my amazing partner share their thoughts?”

His casual way of giving you room to express yourself makes things a bit easier, knowing he’s on your side.

Sonic’s always hyper-aware in crowded spaces.

He’s like a human (or, well, hedgehog) shield, positioning himself so you’re buffered from the hustle and bustle.

He’ll keep you close, sometimes holding your hand tightly, or if you’re really nervous, he’ll even wrap his arm around you protectively.

Sonic’s not usually one for PDA, but he’ll make an exception to help you feel safe and grounded.

Sonic celebrates your small victories, knowing how much courage it takes.

Whether it’s speaking up in a group, meeting a new friend, or even just making it through a social outing, he’ll always be there with a proud smile, a high-five, or a quick

“You did awesome, I’m so proud of you!”

It’s never over-the-top or embarrassing—just Sonic’s way of reminding you that every step counts.

Sonic knows that sometimes, you just need to be alone to recharge.

He doesn’t take it personally; in fact, he admires how self-aware you are about your own needs.

If you let him know you need a day to yourself, he’ll give you space without hesitation.

But of course, he’ll check in with a quick text like,

“Hope you’re doing okay! Take all the time you need. Catch you soon, alright?” so you know he’s thinking of you.

When Sonic senses your anxiety building up, he’ll subtly try to get you laughing, often with something silly just to lighten the mood.

He’s not afraid to make a fool of himself if it means you’ll feel a little less tense.

Sonic doesn’t shy away from asking if you’re okay when he notices you’ve been unusually quiet or down.

His usual upbeat tone softens a bit as he gently checks in,

“You seem a little off—wanna talk about it?”

He’s a great listener, and even if you find it hard to talk about your feelings, he’ll give you all the time you need, never rushing or judging.

Even though Sonic will step in when you need it, he also encourages you to find ways to work through your social anxiety at your own pace.

He’ll suggest small steps, always patient and gentle, understanding that it takes time.

“Wanna try saying hi to Knuckles on your own today?” he’ll ask with an encouraging grin.

He’s proud of every little step you take.

Above all, Sonic’s love for you is constant, patient, and kind.

He never makes you feel ashamed or like you’re a burden.

He sees your social anxiety as a part of you, not something that defines you.

To him, you’re amazing just as you are, and he’s always there, ready to support you no matter what.

[zepskies]

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you? 

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro-Latina), with textured hair. 

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too! 

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil. 

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to— 

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile. 

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe. 

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.  

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.  

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new. 

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.      

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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[mentalbreakdowngobrrrrr]

Twst boys w a s/o w chronic fatigue

Chronic Fatigue is a condition where the holder is always tired no matter how much sleep they get; it often times has side affects like insomnia/low energy

Characters: Idia Shroud, Ruggie Buchhi, Leona Kingscholar, Floyd Leech, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Cater Diamond, Riddle Rosehearts

Idia Shroud

We all know this man has a crippling fear of human interaction, so the fact that he was somehow able to rizz up the prefect of Ramshackle is a miracle

Imagine his suprise when they opened up to him about their symptom.

Immediately throws himself into research trying to find any way to help.

S.T.Y.X has resources and he WILL use them to their full extent.

Sadly, there is no known cure

Instead he will make sure you know you can use his room to crash if you want some peace.

He is perfectly content to offer up his bed for you, so that you can rest in peace away from the chaos that is Ramshackle.

He will ensure that he is staying quiet when he games to make sure you're not disturbed.

Having a s/o with low energy is honestly a win in his book. Since you're almost always low energy, and he is an introvert with no social skills, both of you are happy to simply have dates where you just watch movies or play games.

He himself has terrible sleep habits, but he is not opposed to lying in bed with you on his phone if it means you will fall asleep faster.

You probably use his bed more than him tbh.

Overall a total softie and he is perfectly content with just chilling while you nap

Ruggie Buchhi

Ruggie himself is someone that rarely slows down

He's always working on a different side hustle or helping Leona

He's used to Leona, so adapting is pretty easy, except you have an actual condition, not just laziness.

Anytime you come to him tired he will offer you his bed.

Sadly, he rarely has time to just linger while you sleep.

When he does finally have the time to settle down he is the softest person known to man.

He will gladly pull you to his chest and just relax with you.

One of the few times he will refuse Leona is when he's with you.

Having an s/o who is low energy often times helps him slow down and relax a little.

Overall, he is intensely protective of making sure you get a good sleep, well the best your body will allow.

Leona Kingscholar

He is honestly hyped

Not about the fact that you never feel fully rested

but the fact that he has a s/o who will nap with him.

He himself is often times asleep at odd times

So he will gladly pull you from class (against your will most times) just to nap.

He will use you as a pillow most times; but he also will not mind if you use him as a pillow

He has a hard time understanding why you're frustrated with your condition, as he himself loves to lounge around and nap

However he will do what he can to help you.

Forcing Ruggie to get you coffee, bribing Crowley to let you out of class, he has no issue throwing money at people if it means you can be happier.

Overall; He is down to just nap most times he's with you, but if you want to try and do something he will follow along.

Floyd Leech

He has a hard time coming to terms with it

Afterall, he himself is very high energy, so having an s/o who is very low energy can get a bit frustrating at times.

He is childish, and will often times get pouty when all you have the energy to do is sleep.

However, he loves you anyways.

When you are awake and have enough energy, he is happily dragging you around to engage in various shenanigans.

Whenever he works, he likes having you nap in the break room, so he can come in and admire you during his breaks.

Azul has no qualms with this, as it keeps Floyd motivated, and loosing a bit of space to keep Floyd content is something he doesn't mind.

When Floyd gets pouty, he will come to you seeking cuddles.

His cuddles are intense. I'm talking legs and arms fully wrapped around you, keeping you captive.

In the short moments he is calm, he enjoys cuddling while you doze off in his arms.

Overall; not the best at handling it, but he means well.

Malleus Draconia

A human feeling comfortable enough to sleep around him?

How bold

Considering he met you late a night outside your dorm, he was aware of your bad sleeping habits.

He didn't understand until you explained it to him.

You didn't choose to be up late at night; nor did you choose to take naps during the day.

Upon finding out it was a medical condition, he will try and find a cure using magic.

Of course, he finds nothing.

However, Silver is one of his retainers, so he is familiar with people falling asleep around him.

Anytime you so much a mention being tired, he has scooped you up in his arms and is teleporting to his room where he lays you in his bed and tucks you in, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead

He is so happy to have someone who isn't afraid of him and he will drop whatever he is doing most times if you ask for cuddles.

Overall; Incredibly sweet and attentive,

Lilia Vanrouge

He has raised Silver his whole life

Safe to say, he is good at handling this.

Will always make sure you have a safe place to nap.

Has a weird sixth sense that lets him know when you are starting to get tired.

Will also drop what he is doing to ensure you get to a bed or couch

Will threaten people to leave you alone and let you rest.

When he isn't busy taking care of Diasomnia, he will gladly cuddle up to you and run his fingers through your hair.

Overall; Handles it very well and is very caring and attentive

Cater Diamond

Another person that rarely slows down

He is very high energy most days

However, he will gladly let you nap in his bed while he scrolls magicam.

Thinks your sleeping face is adorable

Takes lots of photos

Don't worry, he won't post them unless you say it's okay.

Enjoys relaxing with you after a long day

He is BIG on cuddles.

Claims he will help you wake up more rested

It doesn't but it's the thought that counts.

Overall; struggles a bit but learns to adapt over time

Riddle Rosehearts

At first he is pissed.

After all, napping violates one of the rules.

When you explain to him that it's a medical condition, he eases up

Still is a bit annoyed; but knowing that you're not purposely trying to break the rules calms him down

He will do his best to encourage you to push through and stay awake during the day; but if you can't he will let you rest

After all, you look so cute snuggled in his bed asleep.

He will use the time you're asleep to study while watching over you making sure no one disturbs you.

Has collared Ace and Deuce for waking you up before.

Considers adding a new rule saying that waking you up is against the rules.

Overall; You're one of the few people he will let the rules slip for. Still expects you to follow them when you can though.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I haven’t seen the 2020 series but my absolute favorite show is ACGAS 1978! Siegfried is so iconic haha. Do you have any thoughts on Siegfried in the 2020 series vs the 1978 one? Actors, portrayal, opinions, etc.

(Totally free to ignore if you don’t feel like talking about it of course, my feelings won’t be hurt)

Siegfried Farnon, I love all his incarnations. As a kid, I saw a lot of my faults in him (and still do), but also a lot of what I aspire to be - clever, charming, and generous. All 3 of the Skeldale vets shaped how I internalize my masculinity. (James' work ethic & determination, Tristan's ability to go with the flow and roll with punches.) I binged both shows (not quite all of 1978, tho) within 8 months, having avoided them until last year. The books are very special to me and I was afraid to engage with either show for fear they wouldn't Get Siegfried. I was very, very wrong.

Robert Hardy had some very cool interests- him being a longbow expert is absolutely fascinating and I keep meaning to watch the documentary he was involved in. Wild he was a consultant regarding the longbows of the Mary Rose. Absolutely was living the dream.

His Siegfried is such a little shit and I love him -- Hardy really captures the "beautific" mode his book counterpart would shift into when giving his hypocritical lectures. His side hustle schemes are favs of mine, because he doesn't actually want to do the work, just come up with the idea.

1978! Siegfried has a fantastic manic energy he flips on and off like a switch, though seeing book!Siegfried's temper on-screen vs Tristan played for laughs makes me uncomfortable -- that's a change I think the 2020 show tackles better, as it explores why the Farnon brothers are Like That.

Samuel West also is a fascinating human. We're both Gen X kids and I've love to have a board game night or go birding with him. His Siegfried has a melancholy streak that speaks to me (I took book!Siegfried as having some brand of mood cycling) and I really enjoy seeing him soften into a family man as the series progresses.

Not to say West doesn't also inject Siegfried with an enjoyable kinetic energy, it's just a different brand than Hardy's. (I was very skeptical the 2020 series would be any good given how faithful the 1978 show was, but by the time S1E1 Siegfried first pulls that mangled job list out of his pocket, I knew West understood the character, even if other details about the show had been changed.)

I feel like S5 took some steps backwards wrt Siegfried's relationships with Audrey and his brother. I hope S6 finally allows certain seeds to sprout & flourish (a relationship with Audrey, and greater trust in Tristan). That said, I also hope Siegfried doesn't soften too much - he still needs to be boisterous and ridiculous and have a certain kind of anger -- book!Siegfried could be a terror towards those who abused animals, and I'd like to see more of that.

What's interesting is both TV Siegfrieds took on the role in their 50s, when the book character is like... barely 30 in the first volume. West plays Siegfried more as in his 40s (fun for me, because I headcanon him as my age, so, 48 going into S6), but the age difference still shapes how I think of each version of the man.

Siegfried's traits - good and bad - come off different based on what age you perceive him as. I think the 2020 show's decision to have a 19 year age gap between the brothers is a brilliant way to address why Siegfried is so hard on Tristan, being somewhere between brother & surrogate father -- the closer in age the boys are (and they are not all that far apart in the books), the weirder that hostile disappointment wrt his exams and work ethic feels.

For me, 2020 series S1 Siegfried is my favorite. He's a great blend of cocksure, self-doubting, charming, off-putting, self-aware, and absolutely oblivious. His contradictions are one of my favorite things about him. But I don't really like pitting the TV Siegfrieds against each other -- both actors have given the source material the most utmost of love and respect, and it shows in their performances. I own both series on disc.

I think a lot of one's preference boils down to which Siegfried you meet at what point in your own life; after imprinting on book!Siegfried as a 10-year-old, the fact I'm knee-deep in writing trans!Siegfried fics for the 2020 series at age 48 probably says a lot about which one I feel the most like. XD

Honestly, my ideal version of the man is an amalgam of all 3 of his incarnations: He'd be mid-40s when we first meet him, and we'd see more of the mood range -- from Hardy's manic energy to West's more soulful touch and what they both brought in-between.

[cyberclouddream]

How to Spot: Earth Signs Edition

Taurus Rising

- they’re predictable and don’t stray far from their comfort zone

- have a lot of side hustles that hardly seem to go anywhere

- they cling to family or roots, often talking about their childhood memories or being heavily involved in their local communities

- constantly avoid conflict in conversations, preferring to smooth things over because they don’t like anything that disrupts their sense of comfort

- they won’t settle until they find something or someone who meets their high standards, often picking apart their hobbies or love interests

- they dislike stress and need balance in their routine, often struggling with decisions when things get chaotic

- they need total emotional involvement or it’s not worth their time; they can get possessive or obsessive

- often joke about things like deaths or what’s owed, and they’re surprisingly open-minded about things most people shy away from

- seek education or travel that leads to career advancement or tangible success

- strong desire to connect with others through shared beliefs or values

- might end up in a career that seems out-of-character, or they may rebel against traditional career expectations

- drawn to spiritual or artistic communities where they can get lost in the vibes

- often engage in causes that offer emotional support or a sense of escape from reality

- they have a lot suppressed impatience and frustration, and they can act unpredictably impulsive

- they can have intense dreams or unresolved issues that make them restless

Virgo Rising

- their mannerisms may seem precise or overly controlled, keeping their emotions in check to project an image of calm efficiency

- appear reserved and may come off a bit nit-picky, and they don’t like being noticed for the wrong things

- struggle with consistency in their financial habits, often spending on things that align with their sense of style or fairness

- have an eye for pretty things but may fritter away at money or try to achieve financial harmony that never quite materializes

- have a habit of picking up on things that are hidden or unsaid in interactions

- conversations with them can feel like an interrogation; they don’t waste time on pleasantries and can be be unsettling with their deep, uncomfortable insights

- may have a home full of eclectic items from their travels, or books and educational resources; home feels like a project rather than a sanctuary

- might excel in activities that require discipline and persistence

- they approach romance with a high level of responsibility and practicality

- more focused on what can be accomplished rather than just enjoying the process; their idea of fun involves a to-do list or a strategic plan

- they’ll try out weird hacks or alternative health practices

- they’re not comfortable with the mundane and will challenge the status quo of their workplace

- often attracted to emotional charged but unstable relationships, since they tend to idealize relationships and expect them to fill unrealistic dreams

- like to make hasty decisions in financial or emotional crises, acting before understanding the consequences

- their philosophies and travels are grounded and predictable; they don’t like to venture outside of their comfort zone

- their worldview is conservative and resistant to change, preferring tried-and-true ways

- likely to change jobs or career paths frequently, their career full of shifting interests and projecte

- excellent in careers that require communication or problem-solving

- they’re driven by a need for mental stimulation, and publicly they can be seen as inconsistent and chaotic

- they attach emotionally to their friends, often to the point of dependency

- they want to be an emotional rock in their social circles, which can lead to them being seen as overly involved or controlling

- they crave emotional validation and acknowledgment but only express it in private

- they have a dramatic streak that comes out behind closed doors, since they privately yearn for recognition and attention

Capricorn Rising

- not prone to emotional displays, and are often seen as someone who doesn’t let their guard down easily

- come off aloof or intimidating, focusing more on how they’re perceived than on making friends

- approach to making money isn’t traditional, preferring to use cutting-edge solutions or unexpected sources of income

- may say things that sound deep but aren’t grounded in reality; they can be emotionally manipulative or just very confusing, like navigating a fog

- quick to take action in family issues or home projects, and may have a competitive streak in within family dynamics

- appear slow to engage but reliable once committed in relationships, and they’re idea of fun is meticulously organized and lacking thrill

- like to stay mentally stimulated by constantly changing their daily habits or work strategies

- their health habits are inconsistent, often involving strange diets or exercise fads

- relationship can feel like a second job because they’re constantly trying to fix or manage their partners, and may struggle with setting healthy boundaries

- they approach deep, personal issues with flair and showmanship, often making a spectacle of their struggles

- they can be so critical that they miss the point of their explorative experiences, since they make learning and travel feel like a chore

- their careers are all about looking and feeling nice, since they want to be admired for their poise and ability to network

- they have a strong work ethic and ability to climb professional ladders

- they’re good at using people for personal gain and may come off manipulative

- they form alliances based on strategic value, not genuine affection; their friendships often end up having hidden agendas or powerplays

- they dream big and have hidden fantasies of adventure, which they mask with a serious and restrained exterior; their private life is where they let their true restless spirit out