#but you’re. really going to put those things on the same level as it being badly written?

[persistentplums]

No matter what you think about Brock and Rusty one thing is true they raised those boys together. And anyone will tell you kids pick up qualities of their guardians/parents which influences how they go about things.

The influence of Brock on Hank is simple, it’s the one the show starts off with and we see easily throughout the show. I wish they could’ve done more with Dean and Brock, unfortunately they don’t overlap enough to do something with but when they have overlapped the small moments, you stretch it you can see the impact Brock has on Dean.

“He believes in this stuff, not like Hank.”

“I have watched you pull a man eye from his head, made him dance like marionette with his own optic nerves.” “At least I didn’t break his heart.”

Heart is Brock entire thing. He is punished for his act of heart going against OSI and getting Billy and Pete together, him racing back in PROM, his attachment to the Ventures, and funny enough his lack of any real love life is because Brock does things true to his heart even when he’s not supposed to (“you’re a tool for the government.”)

That’s super easy to see in Hank, he follows his guns, jumps in, doesn’t second guess if he’s wrong. For Dean it comes out in belief of there being Good Guys. Something Brock shares. For a man who has no real issue with murder the idea of “Good guys” is a thing he sticks with very seriously. Dean copies this to a Dorky level coming off naive but it’s literally the same packaged differently.

Hank knows though everyone is just some guy, a bad guy or a good guy you are just some guy. A lot like his dad in that respect, when you understand this is all a game you can’t really bother with genuinely thinking of sides just how you interact within it. (Hank not really put off about dating Sirena even if her dad is his dad arch. That’s more of an obstacle that they are put into arch and protag categories so he can’t date her normally bc it’s not an actual *thing* for him)

Dean however is under the firm belief there are sides, they can work together sometimes bc he’s seen it, but like Brock, he believes in sides and gets riled up by it.

Speaking of riled up, Dean has Brock temper. I didn’t think much about it to be honest, it shows itself twice physically (Rusty Camp, radiant of the baboon) but when I hop around episodes now I see it in newer episodes. Dean temper is similar to Brock when he is really pushed off the need to protect or save another quality that is picked up by Brock.

Brock aggression is something Dean who is used to seeing it come out when he, hank and doc need protecting, saving, or an affective tactic. Another thing is Brock was and probably still is both boys example of classic masculinity in contrast to their dad (I’ll get back to this on another post.) I think Dean unintentionally mimics it, and I kinda believe we would’ve seen more of it if Dean was put into more situations where he was worried for someone else since the Rusty camp one was for Triana and the movie was for Hank. (Both against Dermontt which shouldn’t count but I am which I will get to in a different post about jealousy in VB)

Brock is the stereotypical “man” he protects the home, he kills to protect, his basics are that man spiel I don’t need to say we know it. Brock masculinity is never questioned really, it oozes out of him and is loudly punctuated. When it comes to sex it’s the same thing, to a problem. I think Dean inherited that, im not saying the one time Dean did a shitty sex related thing makes him like Brock but I actually think it’s more of a Brock move than Rusty weirdly enough. Probably because Brock has hooked up with people wives/gf but that’s not the reason why I say it.

Dean reason with hooking up with Sirena wasn’t really solid, because I don’t think there was a solid reason he did it just because it was happening. That’s why I think it’s more of a Brock move. Rusty we’ve seen talked himself out of being with women who even like him, yes he hooked up with a fan bc she was a fan. She wasn’t someone who can end up seeing his flaws, end up maybe loving back because love is frightening for Rusty because he wants it. If there was a room and a woman who was slightly interested in Rusty, Rusty would magically get out of the room then COMPLAIN he is out the room. We see it repeatedly he will make up reasons really get in his head to jump ship only to stick to people who don’t love him. Or like him.

Hank is the same line but opposite, he is open to love! Yes like Brock his attention to who is quick and focused but Hank is committed because he wants to be loved. Hank is scared of not being loved, he worries although less obviously or loudly about it, and leans hard into it. Action man called him on it, that he resembles Rusty in being downright too attached.

I’ll be honest here it’s so unlikely to actually see it but once you see the Rusty in Hank you’ll end up seeing the Brock in Dean. I remember a YouTube comment saying “Dean is all the negatives [of other people] it’s why I don’t like him.”

I don’t hate Dean, I don’t love Dean but I get Dean so while I don’t 100% agree with that comment I do get it. Dean picks up sometimes the worst traits because he’s so easy to imprint on. He’s funny like that, weirdly easy to leave an impression on but unaware how he repeats things of people he doesn’t want to. Brock being promiscuous, Rusty nostalgic past, the idea of what is important to a man etc Dean mimics it unknowingly. I don’t think that was the root of hooking up with Sirena, (bc the reason is bs yall) I’m just thinking of domino effect of parenting.

There’s a lot of Rusty in Dean literally everything Dean has is Rusty. But where they don’t match up are the core, Dean now understands his dad and they are the same brand of Venture boy but I really think Brock influence on both boys is there for good and bad it just harder to find in Dean. But I think it comes out when Dean stops letting his mind run too much, when he trusts himself, when he’s standing up for something, when he lets his body drive.

But I’m just spitballing! I just don’t believe Dean is all Doc, just like Hank isn’t all Brock. We just didn’t get a lot of time with the boys switched around

[apollos-boyfriend]

watching a danganronpa-related video and i’m losing my fucking mind because this person keeps saying “eliminated” instead of killed or died. you are talking about danganronpa’s continuous themes of incest, sexual assault, and pedophilia, and you can’t bring yourself to say killed. i cant fucking do this anymore

[itostea]

the strongest (gojo x wife! reader)

gojo can't help but feel annoyed that he feels concern for the wife he swears he doesn't care for.

warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo refers to you as his wife, enemies to lovers (?), gojo tells you to lift up your top, slight angst, he's really bad at feelings okay, image from loving yamada-kun at lv999 (part of gojo’s wife series)

The lines of intrigue and fear are often blurred. It explains why we admire fire from afar, careful not to get too close in hopes of not getting burned. It explains why we find peace in parts of the ocean and tense up in deeper parts. It also explains why Gojo Satoru seeks your presence yet pushes you away the moment he finds himself feeling something other than indifference or vexation–it’s never hatred though. The strongest can’t envision himself ever hating his wife and it scares him. 

He’s not sure that can be said about you. Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you grew to hate him after the treatment you put up with. 

Your marriage is what you call a “marriage of convenience” and Gojo made sure you remembered that. He wasn’t always so distant with you. Back then, you might’ve considered him a friend but time did its bidding and you two drifted apart, your time together merely a memory. Now fast forward a few years and you were wedded to him, taking up his surname and sleeping in the same house as him–in separate rooms of course. 

Your steps on the wooden floors were silent as you intended not to make a single noise at such a late hour. You sighed, feeling the weight of your heavy shoulders drag you down. 

Gojo might be considered cruel to you but the elders were on a different level. They knew this mission would be too much for you yet they sent you on it as punishment for speaking your mind the last time everyone gathered. 

At that time, your husband had an unfamiliar gleam in your eyes as you voiced your thoughts on the matter of Itadori. He’s a nice kid, you thought when you first saw the pink-haired boy. 

Taking away his youth wouldn’t be fair. After all, he didn’t choose to have the Ryomen Sukuna use him as a vessel. Yet, sentiment doesn’t do well with the higher ups and they made sure you knew your place with the mission they sent you on. 

You inhaled sharply, wincing as you felt the bruise on your rib with your palm. There was blood soaking your tights, little cuts littering your legs. You’re so tired you can’t find it in yourself to even eat. Then again, you needed to be in your best condition tomorrow since another mission was sent out of you and specifically you. Those in power always make sure it’s clear that they are in power. Your voice of opinion meant nothing to their beliefs in tradition or what you liked to call, “backward thinking.” That’s one thing you and your husband could agree on. 

“Ow,” you wince for the nth time as you open the fridge, scanning the items. Mochi. Ice-cream. Leftover cake. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to go grocery shopping a day prior so you could have a proper meal. This was the kind of stuff Gojo could live on but you couldn’t. Closing the fridge, you opt for instant ramen instead. Not the best choice in regards to healthiness but cracking an egg in there meant more protein and it also minimized the spice levels. 

You’re halfway in between preparing the noodles when you feel a presence right beside you and soft breathing besides your ears. “You’re home,” your ‘husband’ mumbles, his eyes half-lidded from just having woken up. 

“God! Satoru!” You gasp, flinching away from and only realizing how close he was. For someone who claimed he wasn’t interested in you, he didn’t know what personal space was. “How did you know I was home?”

“Your cursed energy leaked in,” he shrugs his shoulders, peering down at you without the constraints of his blindfold or shades. You gulp as his eyes flit up and down your appearance, causing your insides to tense up in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. Being scrutinized by the six-eyes himself wasn’t much fun and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that your hair is disheveled and your face is sweaty from just having come home from a grueling mission. 

You don’t even notice the glint of rage that crosses his hues before he masks it. “Who did this to you?”

“Huh?” You blink, coming to your senses that your body was bloodied up and battered from having fought a curse. “Oh it was just a mission. It’s normal to be hurt on missions.” 

Gojo’s been living with you for nearly half a year now and he knows you’re more than competent when it comes to shaman duties (not that he’d ever tell you). He knows you return home by 7 p.m.., and never at hours well past midnight. He knows that you usually only get injuries on your back because you get careless at times. But now, he sees cuts everywhere and he’s not sure if you’re running on adrenaline or if you’re too tired to notice. 

His eyes glance at the way you press a palm on your rib, subconsciously squeezing the area as if hiding it from him. “Let me see.”

Your surprise is immediate and he would’ve felt a strange fluttering in his stomach if not for this concern he was experiencing for you. You smile. “See what?”

“Your injury. Let me see it,” he says again, pressing on the hand you hold close to your ribs, narrowing his eyes as you hiss in pain. “Don’t be stubborn (Name).” 

His voice is different from the cheery one he often uses and you’re left leaning further into the kitchen counter, acutely aware of the fact that his taller frame wasn’t allowing you to escape. His eyes widen the slightest once he gets a glimpse of your flustered expression as you peer up at him and he only realizes what he was asking from you. Part of him tells him to ignore this and pretend his concern for you was brief. Yet, part of him screams at him that he was your husband, so he should feel the right to be worried–even if he was months late. 

He sighs, tilting his head. “I’m just going to look. I promise I won’t do anything else,” his voice is oddly tender as he speaks to you, a contrast to the usual nonchalance you’re used to. 

You gulp and let out a shaky sigh, giving in when your fingers reach to pull your top up for him to see the bare skin that you can’t even say is spotless or void of marks. Multiple wounds litter your skin–some faded, some new. You’re scared his gaze would show some signs of judgment or disgust but you’re left bemused when you see how his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. For a second, you allow yourself to be deluded by the fact that he might be worried but you quickly abandon that thought, averting your eyes from him.

You can see how he pieces everything together. From the way you rebelled against the elders and how they saw it as a means to punish you. He does it so quickly that you can only blink when his blank expression morphs into something different. You almost feel relieved from the fact that his expression of pure anger wasn’t directed at you and rather those who sent you on the mission.

It’s almost natural how he slides the top further up, mapping the extent of the bruise with his eyes. His hands are warm and calloused. They’re also gentle, tracing the bruise carefully to not hurt you. “I’ll kill those old bastards,” he chuckles with a sneer. “They have some nerve letting my wife take this mission without me.”

You frown as you see his anger first-hand. “Satoru–”

“Why didn’t you go to Shoko?” He interrupts, gently holding on your waist to prop you on the counter while he stands in between your legs. He watches you intently, in search of answers.

You feel somewhat embarrassed as his hand still lifts your top up to see the bare skin but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t want to bother her so late at night…”

For the first time since today, you see him flash a genuine smile, as if exasperated by your reasoning. “But you’re fine with bothering me?” 

“That’s different!” You say, a pout slowly forming on your lips and he can’t help but feel drawn to you even if he doesn’t want to. 

He laughs as you pull your top down with a huff, finding it cute that you were so bashful. “Because I’m your husband?” 

You go silent and for a second, Gojo thinks he’s messed up for mentioning that. Despite being your husband, he’s not the greatest at doing his job. He’s not callous or spiteful towards you, instead taking on more of a cold and aloof attitude towards you. Even so, he thinks that hurts just as much as a few insults. 

He’s about to pull back but your voice draws him back to you. “Yeah. It’s because you’re my husband.”

Gojo can’t stop himself from glancing at your lips at that single statement. He was today years old when he realized he was a man of simple tastes. All you had to do was tell him that he was your husband and he’d want to kiss you until your lips turned red. He considers himself lucky that you didn’t see that slip-up of his–though he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

He breathes out a sigh, propping his chin atop your head while his fingers draw circles around your hips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

It’s a vow he swears to keep. 

“I know,” you whisper quietly enough for him to hear. “You’re the strongest after all.”

He thinks it’s funny that even as the strongest, he feels weak when he feels your fingers play with his sleeves. No words are said after that and a comfortable silence drifts between you two. It’s like the barrier between the two of you is cracking once you feel his lips press gently against your forehead and you think it's his way of sealing the promise. 

Gojo Satoru thinks–or rather he knows that he wouldn’t mind living the rest of his life with you. And he knows that he should fix his behavior around you and stop running away. That way, instead of a kiss to the forehead, he can finally give you one on your lips. 

[retroaria]

Michael Kaiser. That’s it. That’s the post.

i’m having kaiser thoughts. i’m pondering my orb, and all it’s showing me is michael kaiser. the evil voices in my head (my ask box) are taunting me (sending very nice requests) to sell my soul to michael kaiser (finally write something about him) and so here i am.

summary: random kaiser hc’s (lmk if you want more/nsfw ones)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🪽 - aria

• thinking about how possessive he would be in a relationship. it isn’t overbearing, in the sense that he trusts you and lets you do you’re own thing. however, he’s a rather insecure man behind all that smug douchebaggery that he puts off and he has a hard time watching you interact with other men of his same stature. because truly, no matter how good he is to you, he isn’t the best person all around. there are guys out there that would be better for you and he can’t help be fear that you’ll be swept off your feet and taken from him.

• Kaiser is gentle with you. you actually turned him into a completely different person. It’s not that you’ve really changed him at his core, but you’ve opened him up to love he didn’t know before, and so he feels like he has nothing to be afraid of with you. he’s vulnerable and expressive and happy with you. he makes sure to provide that same experience for you in the relationship, making sure you always know you can go to him for anything and you don’t have to hide anything from him.

• In the beginning of the relationship, Kaiser is very protective of your privacy. He’s really afraid of the consequences that may come with the world knowing who you are and who you are to him. he’s not naive, he knows there’s bad people out there. not only that, but it’s no one else’s right to know you’re love for each other. i see him doing a soft launch and that’s it. after that he’ll post you on occasion and be a little less aggressive about hiding from paparazzi, but he still doesn’t want to share you. you’re his whole world, keyword HIS.

• kaiser LOVES intimacy. physical or emotional, he loves those sweet loving moments that come to fruition from the trust and bond the two of you have cultivated. he loves showering and taking baths with you, relishing in the gentle touches as the two of you clean each other up. they’re always filled with soft giggles and quick kisses, before drying each other off and snuggling up. he loves listening to you talk about your day, not sparing him from details you may have spared others from. telling him all the thoughts and actions you aren’t proud of, unafraid of being judged in his eyes. the vulnerability of it all makes his heart beat fast, but you’re both so trusting and in love that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

• this might be a hot take, but i feel like the concept of marriage would scare him a bit. it’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you, because he absolutely does and already plans on it. it’s just a level of commitment that he never thought anyone would dedicate to him. he doesn’t want you to end up regretting it in the future. he doesn’t shy away from conversation about it though, he actually wants you guys to talk about it and get a feel for where you both stand. when the time comes to take that next step, he’s as ready as ever. just make sure you don’t break his heart please (or i’ll find you bro.)

• dates with kaiser can either be extravagant and classy or they can be chill and sweet, he can do both. sometimes he wants to take you to the nicest restaurants he can fine, see you all dolled up looking absolutely stunning for him, and pamper you the entire night. other times he just wants the two of you to do something fun and spontaneous, would take you to a fair and win you all the stuffed animals you want, or would take you on a stroll around the city, letting you frolick through the shops while he holds all your bags for you. he’s such a gentleman either way.

• kaiser loves being domestic with you. doing the laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, making dinner, he loves it. in those moments he finds himself wishing they would last forever, just the two of you existing in each others presence, he has nothing to worry about.

moon divider- @strangergraphics-archive

[fiendishfables]

Lucifer is one of those guys who is really happy to love someone & to be loved in return. He would treat you right, that’s for sure. 💕👹

Lucifer Morningstar Headcannons

warnings: nsfw, fluff

words: 584

a/n: this feels a bit rushed because I tried to make it earlier, but tumblr loves to delete my progress on things so- blep. Also, whoever is sending these in, I LOVE YOU, these are fun, hehe <3

SFW

Due to his questionable past, Lucifer has always been a bit skeptical of love

Unfortunately, he is used to the good things in his life, the things he so happens to love the most, up and abandoning him 

But then, Lucifer being Lucifer, he’s all too forgiving

He is quite the incentive driven creature 

If he goes into a relationship where he knows he will be granted the gift of receiving the same pleasures that he himself provides for his partner, he just might have to poke at you a bit to ensure that you are indeed a real being, and not some walking figment of his imagination

His motivations are similar to those of a puppy

Besides being a good boy as unintentionally as he does, he is lured in by the sense of some sort of reward

Bonus points if that reward involves some sort of physical contact, no matter the level of intimacy

This man is touch starved; put your hands on him in one way or another, please

Honestly, just jump on his back and hug him; he loves little displays of affection like that the most (even if you almost give him a heart attack the first few times)

You openly offering him the affection he so dearly craves from another person, it’s a for sure way to get him to stick around 

In fact, you may never be able to get rid of him

Lucifer, despite being in Hell, may just be the most loyal soul down in that shithole

Once the two of you have an officially established relationship, just the thought of being with anyone else other than you makes him cringe

He makes sure to mark his calendars for any sort of important date; anniversaries, date nights, dinners, etc

Yes, he has multiple calendars; he forgets things easy, but that just shows his devotion towards you is as true as he claims it is

Randomly will turn up at your domicile with a bouquet of flowers every now and again

Doesn’t have to be a special occasion or anything; just wants to show his love and appreciation for you

Finding someone that reciprocates his lovable energy and spirit is not easy, but you managed to snare his heart from the get-go

NSFW

Speaking of reciprocating love for another, Lucifer is a natural at pleasuring his partner

He refuses to leave the bedroom unless you convince him that you are truly satisfied with his efforts

Won’t let you pleasure him and then not give you anything back

It's just not in his nature to leave his lover awaiting his touch; he can’t go a day without yours, so why should you have to?

His tongue is as talented as they come; he can eat you out like there's no tomorrow to do so

King of praise

Loves to praise you and make you feel good with his actions, as well as his words

Always asks if you’re enjoying whatever he’s doing to you; if he gets even a hint that you’re uncomfortable, he’ll freeze like a deer in headlights

Probably cries during sex sometimes, claiming that he doesn’t deserve you; then proceeds to go on a fifteen minute rant about how lucky he is to have found a kind soul such as yourself to make him happy again

Every time you two make love it’s as if its your last

You’ve done so much for him; the least he can do is make you feel good

[charliemwrites]

Soooo a while ago I introduced a “rabid reader.” A reader character with a (non-sexual) body count and a nasty temper.

Anyway, I started thinking about her - and the discord does what it does - and realized that Pathetic Stalker Konig would be a great pairing for her.

So, CW for light stalking, violence, and slightly mean reader

You have a stalker.

He’s… not a very good one.

For one, you know he’s there. Have known since pretty much the beginning. He’s a big fucking Austrian that covers himself head to toe. Not even in subtle colors, but in primarily black. Maybe at night he’d stand a chance, but he follows you in broad daylight too. So, there’s that.

Then there’s the fact that you’re not really bothered by him. What’s there to be bothered by? He keeps his distance, doesn’t interfere with your life. Even when he finally does work up the courage to enter your home, he puts things back where he found them. So, again, not a big deal.

You keep waiting for the escalation. For gifts or letters or some obvious sign of his presence that even the most oblivious person couldn’t ignore. But none comes. Partially, you figure, because you’ve shown no interest in anyone. You have friends, yes, but those are so obviously platonic that even your stalker doesn’t seem jealous. And the few times someone else has made a pass at you, a quick and merciless shutdown follows. Your lack of romantic intentions for anyone seems to be coming him semi-level.

You wonder if this is how religious people feel, that vague sense of being watched. Though you don’t think your stalker is judging you. Be a hell of a thing if he did.

Then one day, things change.

You have this new coworker, Brandon.

Your other coworkers already seem to like him. They say he’s funny and charming and handsome, that he’s such a great fit for the team. You have no particular opinion because most people just aren’t interesting to you, and Brandon is Most People incarnate.

But Brandon seems to have an interest in you. Which, really, is such a poor choice.

He keeps ending up in the break room at the same time as you. Or passing by your desk for a quick question, only to try to lengthen the conversation with the casual chat. Makes a point of saying hello to you in the mornings and walking down with you in the afternoon.

You’re not annoyed yet, not really. It’s a change in your routine, but you’ve been told those are good, so fine. He’s about as bearable as anyone else (besides the rare few you call friend) so you don’t think anything of it. Even when your coworker giggles that he was asking after your romantic life, you tolerate him.

A few months later is the annual office party, a celebration of… something. It seems different every time. Record profits, company anniversary, CEO’s birthday… it doesn’t matter, really. Free food, socialization. It’s something to do.

You go, of course. As ambivalent as you are towards the majority of your coworkers, they do seem to quite like you, and insist that you come.

So you go. You plaster on that mild, practiced smile while they chat and joke, contributing readily when prompted. At the end of the meal, you’re wheedled into going out for more casual celebration. Again, you agree.

Brandon comes along.

And somewhere, throughout the night, Brandon thinks it’s okay to start touching you. An accidental brush here and there is fine, unavoidable really. You’re not opposed to touch as a rule.

But then the occasional bumps and grazes become more frequent, consistent. Purposeful. A hand on your arm, then your shoulder, then your back. When you step away, he somehow ends up right back by your side. So you resort to telling him not to touch you so casually. He scoffs, already past a healthy buzz, and dismisses you as being “uptight” because you’re still treating it as a “work thing.” That you just need some more drinks in you and everything will be fine.

You can feel it bubbling up in you, that inky rage. Maybe something flickers across your face because your coworkers are quick to divert his attention. Smart.

But twenty minutes later you’ve had your fill of socializing. The bar is too loud, people are getting too drunk, and you don’t like the looks you’re getting from more than just Brandon.

You say your goodbyes while he’s in the restroom and leave.

You’ve only just made it to your car when you hear quick footsteps, turn just in time for Brandon to catch up. It’s all just noise to you now, his tense laughter that you left at the worst time, that you’re mean for not waiting. That he wants to walk you to your car like always.

He tries to curl an arm around your waist. It takes restraint you don’t usually employ not to break it. To just step away and repeat (fuck you hate repeating yourself) that you don’t want to be touched.

And then he makes the fatal mistake of just not fucking listening. Of insisting. Of doing what he wants anyway.

So you break his hand. And while he’s still screaming in pain, you notice the shadowy flicker of your stalker ducking out of view.

It’ll stay your secret, you figure, and go home. Expect that to be the end of it.

Until you hear glass break when you’re just about to go to bed. You step out of your room, shoes on and knife in hand, to a fuck-off sized Austrian strangling Brandon. Oh, and stabbing him with a large piece of the lamp someone seems to have broken.

There’s water all over the floor because it started raining an hour ago. It’s mixing with the blood, diluting it pink on your floor. You retrieve a towel from the kitchen to mop it up before it reaches the rug.

All at once, things go quiet. Your stalker is kneeling over a still, dead-eyed Brandon, breathing hard. But his eyes keep flicking to you and then away, shoulders slumped and head ducked.

“You’ve made a mess. Clean up.”

Your stalker jumps into action. Seems to already know where all the housekeeping supplies are. In the meantime, you go digging through your closet for clothes. Can’t find any, so you settle for getting the washer and dryer ready. Order yourself a new lamp online.

By the time you’re done, the body is gone, the floors are clean and dry, and your stalker is fidgeting in the living room.

“Strip.”

He startles. Stares. You arch your eyebrows. Wait him out. But then he does as he’s told. Peeling off cold, wet layers with mechanical precision, until he’s got a damp pile at his bare feet. You give his mask an unimpressed look. That comes off too with an audible gulp.

You don’t really get attractiveness, as a physical quality. You understand proportions and features, and recognize that this man has some pleasing, if atypical, ones. Even with the scar.

“Good.” He shivers. “Now shower.”

He nods, ducks past you to the bathroom - again without having to be told where to find it. You gather up the clothes and toss them in the machine with a little extra detergent.

Walk into the bathroom and ignore the way he tries to cover himself, flushing tomato red from head to toe.

“Your name.”

“Konig.”

You narrow your eyes, but don’t press.

“Are you military?”

He’s built like it. Thick with useful strength, not aesthetic muscle. And he’s scarred all over. Some new, some old, all earned through violence and suffering.

“Military contractor,” he says. Then, quieter, “please don’t stare.”

Your eyes snap up to his. He can’t even hold it for longer than a second before dropping his gaze. You cross your arms.

“You’ve been watching me for 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days. Put your fucking hands down.”

He twitches, but drops his hands to his sides. His cock - and it is, you acknowledge, very impressive - is filling out slowly but steadily. You consider it for a moment while he fidgets beneath the steaming spray.

“If you fuck me, will you be satisfied?” you ask.

Like touching, you’re not against fucking by default. It’s just one of those things you don’t think about often because you’re not especially interesting in most cases.

This - Konig - is not most cases.

But konig’s eyes dart up guiltily before he shakes his head. Surprised, you tilt your head.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

He nods so hard the back of his skull bumps into the shower head.

You hum. Stand there and watch him while he awkwardly shuffles until the washer buzzes.

“Finish showering, get your clothes from the dryer, then sleep on the couch,” you say. He swallows again and nods. “You can get blankets if you’re cold. Be here in the morning.”

With that, you turn to switch his clothes over. Then head off to bed, wondering if you’ll see him come sunrise.

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Masterlist

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + nineteen

authors note: this one has....some surprising twists and connections. that's for sure....

cw/tw: angst, fluff, and characters using dark humor to discuss mental health

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

masterlist + story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

Roman’s never been the type to really push things off. Not important things, at least. And seldom in his life has his to-do list ever really consisted of non-essentials. There’s always something to be done, a task to be handled, body or bodies to drop. 

But always at the top of the non-essential list has been his appointments with Dr. Michaels. They’ve always been more annoying than anything, annual routine check-ups that are required with his role as the Tribal Chief. To make sure he’s healthy and equipped for the job. Appointments the Elders are sure to stay on top of, which is also a large reason he hates them.

The Elders tried so hard at the beginning to stop and prevent him from taking his rightful place at the Head of the Table once he turned 18. Questioning his readiness, his eligibility (largely to him being afakasi), and even more, his capability. 

To be honest, it’s a major reason as to why Roman will never really respect them. For men who are supposed to uphold tradition, they seemed to throw that out the fucking window and jump through every available hoop to prevent him from fulfilling his father’s role. To stop a generational dynasty. 

It’s largely why Roman was so focused and dedicated at the beginning of his reign to prove them wrong. To prove them all wrong. 

Something he continues and will always do.

A knock on the door is followed up with the entrance of the man Roman could go the rest of his life without seeing. “Well, congratulations.” Roman maintains his bored expression, mentally going over the next items of his to-do list rather than entertaining his doctor. “You have the sperm count of a man in his twenties.”

That’s another annoying thing. The yearly tests to continue to monitor his ability to reproduce. Something he, like most things in life, passes with flying colors. 

“I’m sure the Elders will be thrilled to hear that.” Probably. Not that Roman gives a flying fuck. “What I’m not pleased with is your blood pressure.” Roman is slightly more present and engaged in the conversation at that. “Your numbers came back even higher this time, Roman. And while you’re not in the danger zone just yet, you keep this shit up of not taking this seriously, you will be.”

Yeah, the attention is fully present and focused now. Roman maintains a leveled voice while asking, “what the hell does that mean?”

Dr. Michaels sighs heavily, moving to sit on his stool, explaining carefully. “You have hypertension. It’s chronic, so it’s not going to go away by avoiding it. You have to take your medication as prescribed. That’s the only thing that will keep it managed.”

Roman looks away, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t fucking take it.” And that’s the truth. When Roman remembers, he does. Or when he actually cares enough to, he’ll pop the pill in his mouth and down it with one of his energy drinks. 

“Every day?” Roman doesn’t bother with a reply, growing irritated at being scolded like he’s a fucking child. “Continue to fuck around with this, and you’re putting yourself at high risk for heart disease or stroke.”

Those two things seem almost impossible, like they shouldn’t even be used in the same sentence or paragraph as him or anything related to him. Roman is in excellent shape, works out at least twice a day, eats relatively well, doesn’t smoke or do drugs. Rarely drinks. All the good shit. 

All the healthy shit most medical providers recommend. Isn’t that enough?

It’s like the old man has uninvited access to Roman’s thought process, adding, “Hypertension is hereditary. Your dad had it. Your uncle had it. So, it only makes sense, especially with who you are and what you do, that you got it as well.” Jaw clenching, Roman refuses to comment on that. Refuses to discuss anything regarding his family. “You were technically in the prehypertension stage before, hence why I put you on meds to keep it from progressing. But, now you’re in the stage one hypertension range. Do you really wanna know and see what stage two would look like?”

Thankfully, Shawn doesn’t wait for a reply, continuing his long ass spiel. “You take such good care of yourself physically, but this one thing seems to be an issue for you?” When Roman still says nothing or even makes eye contact, Dr. Michaels goes for a different angle. “If you’re not going to do it for you, at least do it for that wife of yours.” That is when Roman’s sharp gaze lands back on his doctor. “She was a nervous wreck that night you were shot. Imagine what something happening to you that was avoidable would do to her.”

Damn him. 

For all intents and purposes, Roman does an excellent job at hiding the fact that Dr. Michaels found it. Found the thing that truly catches Roman’s attention. Solana always worries so much about him, especially this high blood pressure shit. He doesn’t even want to think about how she would react if she knew his numbers had gotten worse, that he’d slacked off a bunch on medication adherence since she’s been gone, since everything went down. 

She’d freak the fuck out, be an emotional mess, and it’d be all because of him.

Roman can’t have that. 

He won’t.

With a newfound purpose and reason to actually switch this topic from irrelevant to relevant, he relents, “fine. I’ll take the damn medication.”

“As prescribed?”

Smiling without an ounce of humor, Roman nods, reminding himself that it’s probably not a good idea to kill the doctor he’s had since he was 14. Michaels can be annoying, but he’s effective and hasn’t been a problem for the Tribal Chief. For the most part, at least. “Yes.”

Dr. Michaels chuckles. “Thank you.” He then stands up, looking down at his tablet and starts tapping around. “Unfortunately, because your numbers have jumped as much as they have, I need to up your dosage. I’ll send the script over to the pharmacy and make sure they have it filled today so you can pick it up today. Start tomorrow morning. Not next week. Or next year. Tomorrow. Alright?”

Not bothering to reply, Michaels walks over to him, smile almost sympathetic. “Good seeing you, big guy.” Roman scowls with borderline disgust at the light pat on his shoulder. “I’ll follow up with you in a month.”

Roman’s irritation spikes again. “A month? Why so soon?”

Hand on the door, Dr. Michaels shrugs and explains. “Gotta start monitoring your numbers more closely now.” He smirks a bit, taunting almost. “See if you’re as good at following directions as you are at giving them.” 

It’s when the door closes that Roman releases the heavy sigh. Always fucking something. Yet another thing added to his list. 

Of course. 

Roman stays annoyed, even as he’s escorted back into his office, the only thing keeping him from being completely vexed is the reminder that pops up on his phone. 

Visit with Sol

He’s scheduled to drive down to the treatment facility and spend the evening with Solana this evening. Something he’d never openly acknowledge to anyone other than her that he’s been looking forward to all week. 

Today marks two weeks since she transferred to residential treatment, and despite much more lax policies regarding personal items and even visitation, this will only be his second time seeing her.

And not because he hasn’t wanted to. 

No. Solana herself requested they stick to visits once a week versus more. Citing she wants to do this “on her own” as much as possible. The initial wording concerned him. He never wants her to feel like she’s alone in anything, but her follow up explanation provided him clarity on just what she meant. 

“You believe in and support me” A light shrug of her shoulders and gentle gleam in her pretty brown eyes as she adds with a determined nod. “I have to believe in and support me too.”

He checks in on her throughout the week, of course. And she keeps him updated on things like her individual and group therapy, even sharing photos of art she creates during down time. It helps that she’s allowed her phone this time around. Not that it would have made a difference if she wasn’t. There’s no way in hell he would allow her to be that far away without a way to directly communicate with him. Sure, Bautista is there, but still. 

Not enough.

But, it’s as Roman walks back into his office, any excitement at the thoughts of seeing his wife in person, being able to hold her and kiss her is dashed away. 

Replaced with well-hidden shock and irritation.

“What the fuck are you doing here?

There are two people in his office. Two uninvited people. One sits in his chair at his desk. The other sits on the edge of his desk. He recognizes one of them, but not the other. It takes a second for that recognition to dawn. It’s been years since he last saw him. He looks older, obviously, but outside of that, not much has changed.

Including his disrespectful ass disposition. 

A broad smile appears on the bearded face of the man who just doesn’t know today is the absolute wrong day to try to surprise Roman. To surprise a man who hates surprises in the first damn place. 

“Good to see you too, capo.”

There is nothing good about this. Roman already has seven million other things on his plate. He doesn’t need anything else thrown at him.

Especially this.

“Why are you here?” If there was anyone to come and pop up from the Cosa Nostra, he would have bet any money it would be Dwayne. And that would be a much better option than the bastard before him.

The woman on the desk chuckles. Roman can at least acknowledge her beauty. Breathtaking. Her features are almost too perfect to be real, her deep complexion free of any markings. A fine woman. Not Solana. Not in the slightest but still beautiful. She looks over at her co-intruder and speaks in Italian. “While the resemblance, physically, is undeniable. Personality wise is where it stops. Thank God. His bedside manners leave a lot to be desired.”

If she wasn’t a woman, Roman would have her laid out by now. To speak ill of him is one thing, but to do it in front of him is entirely different. Truth be told, if he wasn't already having a shitty day, a small part of him might be impressed at her balls. But, it’s not a good day. Far from it, so now he has to push back thoughts of murder.

Glare focused on her, he switches to Italian. “You have 1 minute to get the fuck out of my office, or else the only way you’ll be leaving is in a body bag.”

“Careful, Roman.” Matteo’s voice is light and surface level calm, but Roman knows better than that. Knows that it’s also a warning. If only he cared. “This is my wife.” 

“What makes you think I give a fuck?” Is Roman’s leveled reply. “I want her gone. Now.” Roman can’t decipher why this man would bring her in the first place. This doesn’t concern her. 

Matteo is smart, whispering something to long legs as she kisses his cheek and plops off the desk. Her smirk pisses him the fuck off as she walks past him, completely unbothered, remaining silent even as the door closes behind her.

Smug ass, prissy bitch. 

Roman doesn’t waste any time jumping back to the topic at hand. “Answer my question. Why are you here?”

Matteo sighs and sits forward, shaking his head. “Some things never change, huh?” Roman is just about to lose his shit at having to repeat himself when Matteo smartens up. “Dwayne sent me.”

Roman eyes him. “What?”

Matteo sighs, shrugging and rolling his shoulders. Roman’s mind quickly travels back to his last conversation with his cousin just a few weeks ago. Outside of the usual asking when he’ll fly out to Italy, he gave no indication that something was wrong. 

And yet Matteo, who Roman hasn’t seen in years, who is second to only Dwayne and lives in Italy full time, sits before him saying he was sent. 

“It’s as Dwayne has been telling you. The Administration grows restless of a leader who lives in a completely different continent.” 

This is nothing Roman hasn’t heard before a million times, but each time, his already limited patience continues to wane. “Is the business not successful?”

That’s an easy answer. “It is.”

Well then. “So why the fuck am I needed there?”

“Because they’ll do and find anything they can to delegitimize your reign.” A sort of frown falls on his face as he adds in a lowered voice. “To create a case.” 

Roman’s gaze narrows, his nose snarling as he catches on to what’s being shared. “They want you to clock me?”

Matteo nods, asking, “you remember our cugino, Luca?” Roman also nods, still trying to settle his anger that these bastards actually have the audacity to want him followed. “Well, he’s not that same scrawny punk anymore. He’s older, stronger, clever. Sadistic. They think he would be better suited to lead.”

It’s not that Roman cares, he’s just trying to get into Matteo’s head, see where his thoughts are. That’s the only reason he asks, “do you?”

Matteo doesn’t appear to think about his answer, which Roman finds a bit surprising. It’s almost as if he’s being honest. “No. Not at all. He doesn’t have the strategic mind to be capo. He leads with his emotions. Is irrational and strong headed. Even more hot headed than you are. He’ll run the business into the ground.”

It’s been years since Roman has spoken or interacted with his cousin, but the description provided seems aligned with everything he’d already pegged. Luca isn’t fit for this role. The weight that comes with being the boss. 

He would most definitely ruin the empire.

“How long are you here for?” 

“Not sure.” Matteo shrugs, running his hand through his hair. “That’s why I brought the wife and kids.”

The wife thing briefly took Roman off guard, but the kids thing especially surprises him. Not that Matteo is even remotely close to being someone he’s close with, it still stuns him a bit. Then again, most men around their age have a family of some sort by this point. So, it really shouldn’t be that much of a shock.

Matteo must catch on to Roman’s expression. “Three of them. Set of twin boys and a girl. Not exactly something I broadcast. Safety reasons and whatnot.” And that, Roman most definitely gets. Matteo looks down, an almost bitter scoff leaving his mouth. “We both know how they feel about us mixed breeds.”

Another thing they can relate on. In more than just the obvious way. Roman’s mother’s racist ass side of the family hated his father being Samoan but ‘accepted’ him, arranged the union solely because of who he was. Because of the Bloodline. But, Matteo’s Turkish father, an essential commoner, never stood a chance.

His mangled, tortured remains that were pulled from the bottom of a lake was an outcome that was always bound to come. 

Roman shakes his head. “And you wonder why the fuck I don’t want to be around any of them?”

Matteo chuckles darkly. “Not at all.” He grabs a paper weight on Roman’s desk and starts tossing it up and down. “You should be lucky it’s me here and not someone else. Dwayne had to fight tooth and nail for them to select me to spy on you. As I’m sure you already know, yet probably don’t care about, there aren’t many on the Administration who are exactly…..fans of yours.”

“And they never will be.” 

Matteo lifts his chin, calmly adding. “Of either of us.”

Silence. 

It’s not uncomfortable. Not comfortable either. Just….silent.

Until Matteo places the paper weight back down and stands up, slowly walking over to Roman. 

“Roman…..” Right away, the Tribal Chief knows he’s not about to like wherever this conversation is going. “I know….I know we’re not close for a lot reasons, but that doesn’t negate the fact that we are brothers—”

Yeah…..as always, he was right. 

He doesn’t like this shit at all. 

“We are nothing,” Roman snaps, practically growling, Matteo managing to tap into such deep rooted insecurities and so carefully tucked away traumas. “Sharing the same mother makes us biological siblings, but it does not make us brothers.” 

For the briefest second, there’s something that flashes in Matteo’s brown eyes. Something akin to hurt. But, it’s quickly pushed away, shoved to the back of the bus. He lifts his head and instead takes a step closer. 

“Whether you believe me or not, Roman. My loyalty is to you. You are the rightful capo. The Capo di tutti capi, and I will fight for and with you to the death.”

Roman says nothing, because he has nothing to say. Nothing he wants to say, at least. The statement lays heavy, joining the other pile of weights that have seemed to settle and make themselves comfortable in his head.

And his heart.

Matteo extends a hand, placing it on Roman’s shoulder, giving an almost comforting squeeze.

“You are mio fratello.” The word being repeated, however, is enough to make the Tribal Chief ready to resort to violence when Matteo, wisely steps back. “As I’m sure you’ve figured, while I’m here, I will need to be present for any and all meetings or discussions regarding the Cosa Nostra.”

Yes, Roman’s not a dumbass. Of course he has to. He needs something to report back to those bitches. It’s just how much of the actual truth will get relayed that he’s unsure about.

Roman continues to stand there, anger and twenty different other emotions boiling as the older man walks toward the door, readying to leave, but not without one final departing statement. 

“See you tomorrow, brother.”

—-------

“Is it true he’s packing an almost 10inch dick?”

Solana nearly chokes on the water she was in the midst of downing at the most unexpected, wild, flabbergasting question she’s almost ever received. 

And her expression of complete and utter shock is shared with the other two women who sit with her. 

Cam is the first to speak though, instantly chiding the other woman, “Mickie!”

“What?” Mickie, however, doesn’t seem to see the issue. Pulling one leg up on the sofa, she shakes the bottle of nail polish and starts applying the pretty lilac color. “Remember my ex-friend Layla? She fucked him one time and said it was the biggest one she ever had. That he could barely fit it in.”

“Mickie, for the love of God, shut up.” Melina cuts in, her voice less shocked and more irritated. She motions to Solana with her free hand, the other one in Solana’s lap as she designs the butterflies for her. “That’s her husband.”

“Well, she has to know he’s a hoe. Or used to be?” 

Cameron shakes her head, finishing up her own nail polish application to her short nails. “Seriously, Mickie, you’re out of line.” 

“It’s okay.” Solana finally decides to make her two cents known as she caps the bottle and places it back on the sofa beside her. “I—I know he….he had a reputation.” That seems like the nicest way to say it, the nicest way to acknowledge that her husband has probably slept with more women than she’d like to ever know. 

“That wasn’t an answer tho—ow!” Mickie winces when Melina punches her in the arm. “Bitch.”

Melina just chuckles, focus back on Solana as she jokes. “You see why we’re all here?”

It makes Solana smile.

To anyone else, the scene would be quite difficult to fully understand. Four young women chatting and joking amongst each other like they’re not all currently admitted and receiving treatment at a residential facility for women. They should be sad, moping, disconnected, unstable. And they have been all of those things, hence their current placement.

But, they’re also so much more than that. They’re human beings who hurt and feel like everyone else. They’ve just been hurt a lot more than some other people and have not responded or processed or even healed just yet. 

Emphasis on yet. Another thing Solana has picked up in therapy. 

“Did you guys do your assignment for Lilian?” Solana asks, partially wanting to redirect the focus from off herself and Roman’s…..anatomy, but also genuinely curious about their experiences completing the homework provided in group therapy.

Cam is the first to answer, shaking her head. “Yeah. It was…..not the best time.”

“Agreed,” Mickie chimes, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I tried to not be too depressing but ….considering I’ve tried to, as the kids say, unalive myself three times now, there wasn’t a lot to go off of.”

Solana winces. This is something she’s still getting a bit used to, if she ever fully will. How sometimes dark humor is so easily weaved into conversations. She’s seen and realized it’s a type of coping mechanism, but it’s still a bit difficult, nonetheless. 

The assignment being discussed consisted of the ladies being tasked with coming up with at least 10 chapter titles to represent their lives. Five from the past and five for the future they hope to have. Solana can agree that the ones for the past were a bit challenging and definitely sad, but her future ones managed to feed that hope she’s determined to not lose this time around.

“I kind of cheated and used song titles for some of them,” Melina admits with a chuckle.

“I used songs for all of them,” Cam counters with a small, sly smile. Of the three women, Solana seems to relate closely to her. They’re the same age and have the same quiet disposition that’s only shed away ever so slightly once they become more comfortable.

Which, clearly, has already started to happen.

“Have ya’ll ever heard Mama’s Hand by Queen Naija?” Almost everyone says no or shakes their head to signify no being their answer. Melina goes on to explain, “it’s this really pretty song she wrote about her son. I used some of the lyrics for my titles for my son.”

Solana, who was just about to switch to a different skin marker to start on the next butterfly, pauses. “You have a son?”

Yes, they’ve all grown rather close over the past few weeks, starting with their simultaneous hospital stays to where they all now room only doors down from each other in residential treatment. However, Melina having a child is news to Solana.

She nods and pulls the arm back that Solana was drawing on to reach in her back pocket, pulling out a folded photo. Considering Melina only reaches it to her, Solana takes a guess that Mickie and Cam already knew. Makes sense.

A smile naturally falls on her face at the sight of the curly haired little boy playing in the sand. 

Melina also smiles, though hers is clearly weighed down with sadness. “I took that just two months ago. We went to Isla Mujeres to go visit Santos aunt. She lives down there.” 

“He’s beautiful, Melina. What’s his name?” The mention of the island also captures Solana’s attention. “Roman and I were just there not too long ago, actually. He took me for my birthday.”

“Santos. Go figure.” She rolls her eyes, as Solana giggles. She thinks it’s actually cute he was named after his father. “And really? It’s so beautiful.”

Breathtaking. “It is.”

“Thank you.” Melina’s smile deepens as she takes the photo and tucks it back into her pocket. “We had a good time there. It almost feels too nice to be unreal, huh?”

Solana nods. “My mom used to tell me about it all the time, which is why Roman took us. He bought us a house there, so we can go back and visit.”

“Damn, what’s it like being married to someone so rich?” Mickie almost moans, head thrown back for a second before she gasps. “Could we do like a girls trip there or something? You know, assuming we don’t all get locked up again on grippy sock trips for trying to kill ourselves.” 

Cam rolls her eyes but admits, “outside of the suicide joke, that does sound kind of fun.”

“We can stay at your house,” Mickie suggests to Solana. “If Roman is okay with that, of course.”

Solana thinks about it. Something tells her he wouldn’t protest. Not if she really wanted it. He’d probably stay somewhere else, not wanting to be around a bunch of women, but she can’t see him saying no. Matter of fact, it kind of aligns with the idea she had brought up to Roman before the incident. An idea of a girls trip with Naomi and Bayley, who she still needs to talk to actually. 

She hasn’t interacted with them since that night. And not for any reason other than wanting to make sure she’s emotionally ready for that, no doubt, heavy ass conversation.

There will definitely be a lot of tears.

“I could talk to him,” she finally answers, looking over at Melina. And she will. It could actually be really nice having all of her now friends together for a nice getaway trip. “You should bring your son too.” 

Melina looks surprised by this. “Really?” She then looks down, chuckling sadly. “That’s if Santos trusts me enough.”

Given that their rooms are right next to each other, both here and at the hospital, Solana has found herself talking with and to Melina more than Mickie and even Cam. Melina is also Mexican, fluent in Spanish, which allows them to sometimes converse in the language only the two of them understand. But, in some of those conversations, they’ve gotten deep, which is why she’s slightly surprised this is the first time she’s hearing about a child.

Melina had disclosed a lot of her relationship with Santos Escobar. How they’ve known each since they were kids, shared some of their best and worst moments with each other, how he’s loved her through it all. 

Solana can still remember the heartbreaking look in her teary eyes as she shared, ‘he just wants me to love myself as much as he loves me’. And Solana related to that so deeply. It made her think of Roman and how he could never love her back most likely but how the way he cares about her and takes care of her probably feels just as good.

She knows what it’s like to be with someone who thinks the world of you when you can barely find reasons to justify as to why you even exist. 

They relate a lot in that regard. 

It’s why Solana reaches a comforting hand and places it over Melina’s hand, voice soft but sure. “You’re gonna get better, Melina.” She looks over to Cam and Mickie. “We all are.”

There’s a comfortable silence among the group that is welcomed and moving. A silent agreement between women who were once strangers and now friends. Sisters, even.

Mickie caps the bottle of nail polish and carefully places her foot back on the ground while reaching for Solana’s water bottle, lifting it up as if giving a toast. “To mental stability and finding rich men with big dicks to spend the rest of our lives with!”

“Mickie!”

—-----------

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Solana’s soft voice manages to snatch Roman away from that sunken place in his head where he’s sat deep in his thoughts for a variety of reasons, largely all due to the unexpected things that have been thrown at him.

He’d tried his best to put all of that into his visit to Asylum where he continues to extract his gruesome vengeance against her family and rapists. And it did help. A little, but clearly not enough where he’s able to hide the fact that he has a lot on his mind. 

“Come here.” Roman motions her over from where he sits propped up in the middle of her bed and she stands at the edge of the bed, notebook in hand. He watches the almost nervous way she places the book down on the bed and climbs over to him, Roman helping her straddle him. Kissing her exposed shoulder, he murmurs an apology into her soft skin. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes shut when she moves her hand to his hair, fingers almost massaging his scalp. “You want—do you want to talk about it?”

He can’t help but chuckle. The irony. “Isn’t that a bit counterproductive?”

She shakes her head, continuing to provide him soothing relief like nothing else can. “No. I—I told you before, you can talk to me too.”

It’s strange. If the situation was different, if he wasn’t still cautious regarding her mental health and the state of it, he might….he might take her up on it.

The Matteo situation though…..it’s complicated and layered and messy, and she doesn’t need any of that.

“I know.” Roman moves his hands to her hips. “But, I’m fine. Just a long ass day.”

Her eyes light with something. “Wasn’t your appointment today?” Shit. “How did it go? How’s your shoulder? What did he say about your blood pressure?”

Roman hates lying to Solana. He really does. She’s probably the only person in his life he’d prefer to not keep secrets from. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s been through more than enough shit to not deserve it.

But this…..he has to lie. 

Roman can’t think of one good thing that’ll come from telling her the truth. Solana seems to be doing well at this place, gradually improving day by day. Laying this on her will only hinder that progress and make her freak the fuck out. He doesn’t want that for her. 

He refuses to contribute to any type of regression.

Thus leaving him with only one option.

“It was fine, Sol.” To lie. “Shoulder’s practically healed. Numbers were fine. I’m good.”

That last part isn’t a lie, because Roman is determined this time around to actually do what Michaels said. To take his medication as he’s supposed to. 

For Solana.

He owes her that much.

She sighs, clearly and visibly relieved. “Good.” Roman feels like shit lying to her, but it’s for her own good. “C–can I show you something then?”

“You can show me anything, Sol.” Anything to take them off this damn topic is more than welcomed. 

He’s also reassured by the relieved smile on her face as she reaches back for her notebook, opening it, clearly looking for a certain page while talking. “One of the things I’ve been working on in therapy is goals. Like….setting goals for myself that are attainable and doable.”

“Okay.” Roman doesn't really know where she’s going, but right off the bat, whatever she needs might as well already be done. He’ll make it happen. 

“I…..” She trails off, biting down on her bottom lip, most likely trying to figure out how to say it. “I made a list of things I want to do when I get home. Some….some sooner, and some later.” Handing him the notebook, he starts reading off her neat handwriting, slightly taken back by the first thing on the list. 

Get back into training 

“Solana…..”

Roman is not opposed to Solana continuing to train. He thinks she should. Believes it’s been good for her. He just doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that it’s the number one thing on her list. Her mental strength, in his mind, should be the priority. 

She must detect and pick up on his hesitancy, eyes traveling to meet his. “He tried to take my life, Roman.” She cuts him off, her voice much lower and quieter than before. “In….in more than one way.” Roman can tell there’s another story there, but he won’t push it. Just keep it in mind the next time he’s hacking into her piece of shit father’s body. “He told me that because—because he wanted to break me, but I won’t—” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “He didn’t. I’m not going to let him take away all the progress I’ve made. I know I—I regressed, but I am going to get better. I am better.” 

He respects that. Respects her so immensely. It hasn’t been the easiest thing for Roman to see her go up and down as much as she has over the past month. She’s had her highs and her lows, the lows being so much heavier than most people’s. 

And that’s just been for him. He can’t imagine how it’s been for her having to actually deal with all these things.

So, while a part of him wants her to just focus on her mental health, if she truly believes getting back into training will help aid that. He’ll support it. 

“Okay.”

She smiles, adding on, “did you—did you find a man for me to train with?” He did. In fact. He just hadn’t thought she’d want to jump right back into that either. “Also, I—I wanna learn how you do that thing you do.”

It’s the way she words it, the almost nervousness in her voice that makes him smile a bit. “Thing?”

She nods, shifting a bit on top of him. “You did it at WarGames. When you like…..ram into people. You knocked out whoever that was unconscious with one hit.”

It’s the added sentence that makes him realize what she’s referring to. “A spear?” And Solana nodding only widens his smile. Her innocence at the whole thing is adorable. “Baby, who you trying to spear?”

She shrugs, pushing some of hair back, cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. It just….it just seems effective.”

“It is.” When done correctly and done with proper training. It’d take her a while to get there, but if it’s what she wants, he’ll support it. “If you really want to learn though, I’ll teach you.”

Her smile is genuine and appreciative. Roman stealing a second to take it in, take in her happiness in this moment before moving onto the next one.

Host welcome home party 

At this second goal, Roman frowns, emitting a giggle from Solana. He looks up at her, clarifying, “does this mean you want people at the house?”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Yes, Ro, I do.”

It was going so well. Training. He could get with. A bunch of people at his house though? Hell no. “Who exactly do you want to invite?”

“Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, Bayley, Melina—”

“Who the hell is Melina?” So far, there’s not a person listed that he’s in agreement with. “Baby, you know I hate people—”

“I know, but…..” She moves her hand to the bottom of his shirt, crumpling it while trying to plead her case. “They’re our friends….our….our family, and that….that means a lot to me.” Fuck. She’s too good at that shit. Tugging at his heartstrings. “Gail has been teaching me a lot about trauma and how it works. How connection is the way to heal. And that….that makes sense because you have been the biggest part of my healing, my connection with you, my—my love for you.”

Roman closes his eyes. Of course. Of course she would drop that word on him. The love word. The word that he can never voice to her and about her but feels with everything in him.

Taking in her heartfelt words, he nods, slowly. “Okay. Just…tell me when you want to do it and what you need. We’ll make it happen.” Thinking about something else, something important, he stipulates. “Jey’s not bringing them bad ass kids though. Or Nicki.” 

Solana rolls her eyes again. “Ro…..”

“Solana, I’m not about to have those failed Plan B’s destroy our house. And Nicki is a fucking arsonist. She’ll burn the place down.”

His wife pouting almost as she crosses her arms would make Roman chuckle if not for the fact he’s thinking about the last time Jey brought all his mistakes over to the property. Those little assholes caused over $50,000 in damages. Sure, it was of no financial consequence to him, but it was annoying as fuck to have to have people in his house doing the repairs. 

But, of course, his sweet saint of a wife lives up to her reputation. “Roman, that’s mean. They’re just….they’re just kids.”

“No, they’re vermin.” And he means that with everything in him. But, the minute Solana leans over and lays her head on his shoulder, a soft, desperate ‘please?’ leaving her mouth, it’s a wrap.

Damn her persuasiveness.

Or maybe it’s just his lack of resolve that seems to disappear when it comes to her.

Sighing against her, he mutters, “you know I can’t say no to you.”

Solana giggles, hugging and kissing him on his cheek. Meanwhile, Roman makes a mental note to have a shit ton of them kid leashes and fire hydrants ordered ASAP. 

Roman grunts as Solana murmurs a ‘thank you,’ and he moves onto the next one.

Get tattoos

This shifts the conversation a bit as he asks, “really?”

Nodding, she gestures to her inner right forearm where the colorful butterflies remain. Something she seems determined and focused to keep up. “I want to get the Hummingbird. For my mom.” She ghosts her fingers over her truly impressive artwork. “Butterflies. And….a semicolon.” Roman is grateful when she explains the last one on her own volition. “It’s….it’s for people who’ve survived depression and trauma and….and suicide.” She swallows, adding. “Something comes after a semicolon just like something comes after our darkness.” And before Roman can even comment on that, voice his agreement, she continues. “I want a lotus too. That’s for….for sexual assault.” 

She doesn’t say anything beyond that, and he doesn’t push it. Just brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. “Just tell me when.” He’ll reach out to his tattoo artist and get her scheduled the same day if that’s what she wants. Whatever she needs. 

Solana smiles, licking her lips. “I—I want one for you too. I just—haven’t figured out what exactly.” 

She’s just full of surprises tonight. He understands all of the desired tattoos that she’s listed thus far. They all have such deep, profound meanings, so for him to be included in that list feels almost wrong. For her to want to put something permanent on her body for him seems wrong. “Solana, you don’t—”

“But, I want to.” 

He doesn’t know how to feel about that. Everything else she described was fine and made sense, but this one is a struggle for him. Regardless, he doesn’t push it further. Doesn’t question her.

He just continues to read through the list, the rest, for the most part, presenting no major issue. Things like continuing to work on her confidence, going back to Isla Mujeres, taking up pole dancing (he definitely wants the backstory on that as well as see if it can be moved up the list), moving all of her journals and books into the home library, etc.

However, Roman is a bit confused when he reaches the last numbered item that’s written in Spanish. She knows he doesn’t speak or understand practically any of it.

10) un bebe o una bebe

His confusion is evident, and it grows slightly when Solana almost gently takes the notebook from him and carefully places it on the bed beside them. She swallows, eyes focused on him as she moves her arms around his neck. “Roman…..I….”

Seeing her trepidation, he moves his hands to her hips, holding her. “Solana, talk to me.”

The reassurance seems to help, as she nods and blows out a deep breath. “Just…..promise me you’ll think about it before you give me an answer?”

This, however, doesn’t help him much. It only makes his curiosity grow at just what she’s talking about. Still, he won’t deny her request. “Okay.”

She moves even closer, gaze falling down to her lap. “When…..when I get better and….and more stable, I—” She lifts her eyes, voice steady and soft. “I want to have a baby, Roman.” Fuck. “I want us to have a baby. I—I want to be a mom.”

Of all the things to come out of her mouth this evening, some more than surprising, this has to take the cake. It’s the last thing he expected to hear her say.

Ever.

“Solana….”

“We have to make an heir anyway. I know….I know you’ve been taking care of that for us, but—but we can’t take forever, and—I’m ready. I know I need to focus on my mental health, and I am. I will, but…..Roman, I really want to have a baby with you.” She adds on, almost desperate and needing him to have all of the information so he can make the best decision. “And I talked to Dr. Stratus. She said all of my medications are safe to take while pregnant. We might have to change something if I decide to breastfeed, but she said that won’t be a huge issue either.”

Well, shit. Roman finds himself asking in a low voice. “You already talked to someone about this?”

She nods, almost nervously. “I just—I needed to know what she and Gail thought. If….if I’m stable enough for it.”

“What they say?”

She looks down, chuckling a bit, eyes watering. “They think I’d be a good mom.”

There’s something almost sad about the way she seems almost surprised by this. Like she didn’t think she’d be good at it until receiving their approval.

When, in actuality, he thinks she’d be the best damn mom a kid could ask for. But, she’d have to be…..with him as the father. 

Roman is not….he’s not built for that life. He doesn’t know or understand the first thing about kids other than they need and deserve all of the things he can’t and doesn’t know how to give. That’s why he’d have to lean so heavily on Solana, on her soft and gentle nature. And how would that be fair? To give her a child that she more or less would have to raise by herself because any overt involvement from him would probably increase the chances of the kid ending as fucked up as Roman is.

“You would, baby.” He finds himself agreeing, voice still low, gentle almost, even in the midst of such self-loathing thoughts. There’s so many things Solana is insecure and self-conscious about still, but this shouldn’t be one of them. “Amazing.”

The way her expression softens so deeply does something to him. “Really?” Her eyes watering is the icing on the cake as she grabs his hand, tracing the lines on his palm. “Y–you really mean that?”

He’s not sure he’s ever meant anything more. “Of course.”

Solana throws another curveball at him with the next soft admission to leave her mouth. “I think you’d be an amazing dad too.”

Fuck.

Keyword of the day it seems. 

Because just what in the hell is he supposed to do with that? How does he tell her that she’s wrong as hell? That someone like him really has no business being anyone’s father. That he’d just fuck up any kid of theirs. That despite recurrent dreams he’s been having about this, about fatherhood, that Roman in the dreams has to be someone else.

Can’t and could never be him. 

He’s good at a lot of things, maybe more than the average person, but that?

No.

Just…..no.

But what difference does all of this make when Solana is right about the fact that he has to have an heir. A child needs to be produced, whether he wants to or not, and this discussion is making him realize that while he’s spent his whole life feeling indifferent to fatherhood, the entrance of Solana, of having her be the mother to his kid, has thrown a wrench into everything. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck to think now. 

So, he expresses as such with as much carefulness as he can.

“I just…..I gotta think, Solana.” About more than just this. About everything. This day has been….a lot, to say the least.

“Of course.” She nods. And if she’s disappointed by his answer, she does a great job at not showing it. Roman welcomes her when she moves her body to lay on top of his, her face pressed against his chest. “I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

It’s a statement that stays with Roman for the rest of his visit, oscillates in the back of his head as he sits in the middle of the SUV while being driven home.

Everything feels like it’s all been happening at once, almost too fast, like the speed is something he’s somehow unable to keep up with. Newfound territory for the man who’s always prided himself at always being so in control.

But, he’s not. 

He’s not in control of damn near all the things right now, his emotions, namely. And it’s fucking miserable. 

His love for Solana that he can’t act on because he doesn’t know what the fuck that would even mean.

Not being able to help her to the extent she needs and not being there for her when she needed him the most. Not being there to stop her the night she tried to kill herself.

Not telling her the truth about her father and leaving her to find out in the most traumatic way.

Now there’s the matter of his health, his blood pressure that he once thought was insignificant, now a moderate to major issue. 

Couple on the unexpected reintroduction of his mother’s firstborn re-entering his life.

And to top it all off, Solana wants to have a baby.

With him. 

Fucking hell.

It’s not until mentally listing all of these things that Roman becomes aware of a tightness in his chest, a sensation he hasn’t felt in years. Not since….not since his last panic attack.

Fuck.

Realizing what’s about to happen, Roman rolls down the tinted windows and uses the passing, speeding cars as the source of distraction. He picks the color red and starts counting how many he sees, and when that’s not enough, he switches to cars vs SUV’s, mentally listing those off. 

He continues to do that until that dastardly feeling entirely dissipates. But, it’s only when he rolls up the window that he punches the headrest in front of him.

This can’t happen again. Roman has too fucking much on his plate and stands to lose way too much. He can’t experience his own kind of regression. But, that’s exactly what’s happening. The thought of which allows him to acknowledge for the first time, in a long that, that he’s overwhelmed.

Roman feels overwhelmed. 

It’s just too fucking much. His head is cloudy as shit, and he needs to just get away from it all.

Grabbing his phone, he puts Rikishi, Jimmy, and Jey in a group text and types out a message. 

Roman: I’m going to see her this weekend. 

Less than two minutes later, the phone dings with a reply. 

Rikishi: I’ll make the arrangements.

Expecting that answer, he moves to the next part of his messages. 

Roman: Jimmy, I need you and Naomi to keep Dulce for me. I’m gonna put you and Jey down as emergency contacts if something happens with Solana while I’m gone. 

Roman: And if it’s not in regards to my wife, don’t fucking bother me.

Roman switches to his thread with Solana, uninterested in anything else anyone has to say right now. He just needs to communicate with Solana.

He can’t tell her the truth, of course, but he does need her to know he won’t be as readily available. 

She deserves that much.

Roman: A work situation came up, so I have to go out of town this weekend. I’m going to leave Dulce with Jimmy and Naomi. If you need anything, call me, and I’ll come back home.

Roman places his phone on the seat beside him and tilts his head back, running his hand over his face. 

Then his phone goes off.

Solana: Roman….

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t have to do that. I’m safe. I’m….I’m feeling happy again. Just focus on yourself. You have so much on your plate right now. I can tell. I wish you would talk to me, but I get it….

Solana: Just please take care of yourself. Be careful.

Roman reads over her texts at least three times, really honing in on the ‘I wish you would talk to me.”

He’s starting to wish he could too.

He really is.

Solana: I love you. ❤️

Another ding, and he swallows. It’s getting harder and harder to have her be so vulnerable with him and not be able to reciprocate that. It feels cruel to ignore her, to say nothing when she tells and gives him everything.

It’s why after going back and forth in his head for a good two minutes, he eventually says fuck it and sends out a simple but telling reply.

Roman: ❤️

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 3

Moniker: Keegan Risk Level: Low. Keegan has never been detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Spanking ass, thighs and pussy Safeword: Refer to first brief. Keegan likes handling brats, if you’re nice for him he won’t have much reason to discipline you - Price

“Maybe if you weren’t such a prick you would be able to find a willing partner and not have to use someone who’s being paid for it!”

You had intended to be the sweetest person on the planet when you walked in given Price’s note, but Keegan was the most infuriating man you had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

He had immediately started making comments about the incompetence of the UK military, had wound you right up about how you weren’t a front line soldier, how you were a radio bitch. You fell right into the trap of it obviously.

“Hm. Name calling and yelling? Weren’t those two things I told you I wouldn’t put up with when you walked in here?”

Shit. God damn it. He had indeed went through his rules when you had come in, had said as long as you followed them then there would be no need for discipline.

“Can’t see someone who works in comms to have forgotten so quickly, so I think you want me to spank your ass don’t you?”

“Oh fuck you!” you hissed back.

“Not yet brat, can’t be handing out treats to bad little kittens or they’ll only get worse.”

You glowered at him from your side of the table. The room today was set up like a moody office, no bed in sight, just a big mahogany table with him sat on one side and you on the other. He stood and stalked around behind you, putting a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Now, let’s go ahead and adjust that nasty attitude of yours. Up.”

You should have just stood, you really should have. But he was so fucking smug that you stayed sat right where you were.

“Make me.”

You heard a little chuckle of delight before he hauled your ass out of the chair by your arm and threw you forward so that your chest crashed into the table so fast that you didn’t have enough time to brace and avoid your head bouncing off of it too.

“Wanker!” you hissed through your teeth, your nose in pain but thankfully not broken.

The first smack was over two layers of fabric, your jeans and your panties, but even so it fucking stung and you yelped.

“Such a feisty thing aren’t you?” he cooed as he pushed down against your back with one hand to pin you, got a leg wedged up between yours to have you spread wide enough to not have a good position to fight back against him and used his other hand to start ripping your jeans and panties down.

You tried to twist your body and lash out at him and he smacked your now bare ass so hard that you saw stars. He used the opportunity to wrestle your hands behind your back and pin them there with one of his.

“You’re only hurting yourself kitten, put your claws away and be good and maybe after your punishment I can pet you and make you purr.”

You hated him so much. Even more so when he got your jeans and panties pushed down to your just above your knees and left them there, the position humiliating in a way that had your face flaming with heat.

“Ready? Remember you brought this upon yourself.”

The few spanks to your ass had stung, but it was bearable. Your body found them exciting even if your brain was screaming how much it hated him, but you thought that it was sort of like you were getting your own back if you were actually enjoying his stupid punishment.

“Sure, go ahead with your punishment” you said, sounding more a brat than you had ever been in your life.

You hadn’t expected it and he certainly hadn’t given you any warning that he wasn’t aiming for your ass with this one. The flat of his hand came down hard and fast on your cunt and your screamed bloody murder. He hadn’t come down right on your clit, but it was throbbing from the abuse none the less.

The next few swots were much the same and you realised just seconds before he wound back for the next one what he had been doing. He knew all of this was making your clit start to swell, that your body was getting mixed signals so was getting wet to cover all eventualities and sending all the blood between your legs. And when your clit was a nice, shiny, swollen target for him that’s when he changed angle and brought his next slap right down on it.

You fucking howled and he gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

“Now kitten, take your punishment like a good girl instead of like a little bitch would you? The more you bitch the more I’m going to have to give you to settle you down, but then maybe that’s why you’re being this way huh? That pretty pussy so eager for my hand?”

God you throbbed. It was like a red hot pulse between your legs and you were rapidly deflating of all of your confidence to go against him. Something about how fucking condescending he was began to have the opposite effect than usual - instead of it making you want to fight him and argue, it was sort of making you want to submit and please him enough that he was nice to you instead.

“C’mon kitty kitty, tell me what’s going on in that pretty head.”

“I’ll take it” you mumbled.

“What’s that? Speak up kitty.”

“I’ll take the punishment like a good girl.”

Fuck this was so humiliating.

“I’ll take the punishment like a good girl what?”

He truly was the worst. You considered telling him to get fully fucked, but he saw that you needed a little coaxing and rubbed his hand on your sore cunt. It was both the promise of something delicious and the warning of something painful.

“I’ll take the punishment like a good girl, sir” you said, squeezing your eyes shut and wanting to sink into the void with the embarrassment of knowing that not only were you being punished for being a mouthy brat, but that Price was watching it all on cameras.

“Better. These ones you’ll count.”

He landed a smack on your ass and despite it burning, it was a relief from the ones levelled against your cunt.

“One, sir.”

“Manners kitten. Say thank you.”

“…thank you sir.”

“Thank you for what?”

“Thank you for punishing me sir.”

“Hm, not sure it is a punishment” he said, smug as anything when he swiped two fingers through your slit and then made you suck you arousal off of them. “But it will be.”

He really started giving it to you. Smack after smack, aimed to sting the most and continually changing so you never knew what to expect so couldn’t brace. Your body was jerking violently with every hard crack to your ass and thighs and by the time you reached 20 you were sobbing the numbers at him incoherently, crying out your thank yous.

“Shh kitty, you did so well. Do you think you need more?”

“N-no sir, please I’ll be good. I’m a good kitten. Your good kitten. U-unless you think I need more, I don’t mean to be a brat and say I don’t if I do” you whimpered.

It was so strange how he had you floating, had you fully pliant and desperate to please him and earn praise. Hadn’t you hated his guts not half an hour ago?

“Well Price, you think one more then I can pet her?” Keegan asked to the room.

There were two beeps in answer and you could sob from the relief. One beep was a warning, two must be an affirmative. Just one more. Your pussy was sopping wet and everything was on fire, but just one more.

He hauled your onto your back and without any preamble wound his hand back behind his head and brought it down brutally hard on your cunt. Maybe you screamed, you weren’t entirely sure, the next thing you knew you were in Keegan’s lap and he was petting your pussy.

“There she is. You never thanked me for the last one kitten, but I’m feeling indulgent so going to let you purr for me anyway.”

You did. Some approximation of a purr rattled out of you as he kept petting his pussy. Later he smothered you with cream that he said would help with the bruising, but you were pretty sure it was going to hurt anytime you sat down for the foreseeable future.

-

Well then. Price had certainly learned something about you today. He really had to start being vigilant instead of furiously wanking off during these sessions.

[daisyblog]

Zane Lowe

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN is mentioned in Harry’s interview with Zane Lowe.

Based on this request.

“Nice nails” Zane compliments Harry who’s sitting in the seat opposite.

“Thanks” Harry politely replies as he glances down at his turquoise nails sitting on his lap. “Thanks for having me”.

After discussing Pleasing and he loved the idea of It, Zane asked “What made you want to do that?”.

“I think for me like…a big part of it is…like I really like making stuff and I really like..kind of coming up with ideas and collaborating with other…especially YN who again is very creative…I feel like I’m really lucky with people around me both personally and professionally that I get to work with are really fun to work with and…you know working’s like my favourite thing to do so..based on the fact that I think obviously it begins as a hobby so then like getting to make stuff for work I feel like is a real gift. I think if I didn’t think about it too much I would be making music and putting out music constantly…but I’m also aware that I’m a total control freak and I want everything to be perfect..so the idea of like oh I made these four songs I’m just going to put out an EP…It’s just not how I think of it”.

---

“You're faced with a time when you can’t do that…and the great leveller of like it doesn’t matter how much money you have, doesn’t matter where you live, doesn’t matter this doesn’t matter that…you can’t travel you can’t do this, you can’t go outside your house..It’s like suddenly you’re forced to not be this musician guy, you’re forced to be like a boyfriend, brother and a son…and all of those things..and actually I feel like I..you know kind of had a little bit of a chance to focus on that at least for a moment..umm and just stop and kind of take in a lot of stuff and…remember things, you’re kind of gifted this stolen time” Harry explained his view on the world pandemic.

“You mentioned being all these roles…you mentioned being a boyfriend, what was it like during these times?” Zane quizzed. “Because I imagine you got a taste of what it’s like being a “normal” couple”.

Twisting and playing with his rings on his fingers, Harry explains “Umm…YN has always been my comfort you know and I’d like to think I’m hers too…she’s been a big part of my life and…we’ve been through so much tougher…that it was kind of nice to just stop and take that in.” Zane nodded, an indication for Harry to continue “So when the pandemic hit..we isolated in LA for a while..I saw it as a time for us to be just us…but YN did find it hard because she has such a big family…and umm she just wanted to be closer to them…especially her grandparents and siblings”.

“Yeah I can imagine that being hard..being so far away” Zane sympathised “I don’t mean to pry into your personal life but what do you mean by time for just you two?”

“Like..we’ve never known anything other than travelling..or just being surrounded by other people and just having to plan everything in so much detail..to like not be seen you know…so we kind of got to see what a normal like would be like, whatever a normal life is..if that makes sense?”. 

“Yeah it makes total sense”. Zane agreed and could see that Harry craved a little normality in his personal life. 

“I suppose..I’m just like really lucky..because YN just gets it. She got put into the limelight the same as us..you know..so yeah she just gets it and I’m just so lucky” Harry continued with a slight giggle as he repeated how lucky he was. “I think what I’m trying to say is…I hit gold when it came to YN…she really is my best friend too and yeah…it was nice to be just a couple without the added pressures.”. 

---

“We have to acknowledge this because..you know we at one point we were going to this in the United Kingdom”. Harry nodded in agreement “But there’s something wonderful about being in this afterglow of Palm Springs..which is I'm sure is how you feel a little bit after these two amazing headline shows…you seem so chilled you know” Zane laughed but continue “There must have been a relief that you did it?”.

“I just..you know I knew I was going to put something out…whether it’s a show or an album or a song I want it to be perfect..and umm…I think like that’s why I take so much stress on I think around something like Coachella..cause I feel like I want it to be good..like if it’s not going to be good I’d rather not do it..so you know in that kind of setting, no matter what it is kind of…you know the dust or the wind or however many things, it's like so many things can go wrong in that situation..and it's not your show and it's my first festival so…you know I’m kind of going out to the crowd and I like knowing what I’m stepping out to” Harry rambled with a nervous chuckle at the end.

Harry continued “and that was really terrifying”.

“What was your instinct when they asked you to do it?” Zane interrupted.

“That’s too scary and I’m gonna say no” Harry laughed “But..uh YN was like you need to say yes and was just so encouraging and supportive..you know…plus she’s like my biggest fan so of course she wanted me to do it!”. 

“So..would you say YN helps with the nerves?” Zane asked curiously.

“I was so nervous..like so nervous..and I remember YN being on facetime to Louis before the show..and them both saying just to be myself and to enjoy…and when I was out there I just focused on being me and nothing else”. Harry spoke freely. “Their advice definitely helped…’cause I had the best time!”. 

“Late Night Talking?” Zane stated.

Harry let out a shy chuckle “Uhh…yeah” Harry leans his head on his hand to try and hide is cheeky smile “It’s about YN…well I don’t think it’s a shock to anyone”.

“So…would you say the whole album is about YN?” Zane asked confidently.

“Uhh..most of it..yeah pretty much” Harry smiled “She’s just been a constant in my life..since like we were what..sixteen or seventeen..you know..she’s my life..and I don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself around her you know…it’s just easy and I love that about our relationship.” Harry explained.

---

“Matilda really shows emotional intelligence and how you were thinking about someone at that time.”. Zane begins to talk about the middle song on Harry’s album. 

“Uh…yeah…I actually didn’t write Matilda”. Harry revealed, causing Zane to looked shocked. “YN had this conversation with someone…and she was getting to know them…and they opened up to her and she was like that’s not normal…so she was almost like writing down what she wanted to say to them…and I was like how many people could relate to this you know…and we agreed that it would make a beautiful song for those who needed to hear it”.

“Waw! It holds a real powerful message and I think even if people don’t feel those things…I think it definitely makes them feel something.”. Zane spoke with passion in his voice. 

“It definitely does….and it was just about saying I was listening….that was YN’s purpose to it”. 

---

“Boyfriends” Zane began “It is a great song..It’s from a male perspective, it’s a very knowing song..and It’s a very self-aware song..you have to have some self-awareness to write from that perspective surely”.

Harry answered immediately “Yeah for sure…Boyfriends was written right at the end of Fine Line” Harry explained “Boyfriends is about like…we’re all flawed you know..and I think pretending like we’re not, I just don’t get it..It’s acknowledging my own behaviour, it’s looking at the behaviour I’ve witnessed..I grew up with a sister so it’s like watching her date people and watching friends…but at the same time admitting I’ve not been a perfect boyfriend either”.

---

“Love of My Life..I’d always wanted to write a song about like home and loving England…and all of that kind of stuff..and it’s kind of hard to do that you know”

“So Love of Love My Life is about home and England?” Zane asked with a slight smirk on his face.

“As I started making them album…I realised it wasn’t about the kind of geographical location…it was more of an internal thing” Harry tried to hide his bashful smile by rubbing his finger under his nose.

“Do I see Harry Styles blushing?” Zane began to tease Harry.

Harry lets out a loud chuckle and tries to hide his face in his hands “You know..I’ll admit that I blush sometimes…especially when it comes to YN!”. 

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

[h4venpha]

i think i find comfort in vashwood because of their unwillingness to say outloud how they care and love for one another. like CANONLY, theres so, so much they dont say, yet their actions reflect everything.

i’m pretty sure i’ve spoke on this before but i like to think that they never say more than they need to because of the world they live in, the type of people they are, the type of upbringings theyve had. it all stems back to them not really feeling worthy of the love they are offered.

wolfwood who only thinks of himself as some fucked up modified killing machine and that he believes theres no chance someone as kind hearted as vash would see the good in him, or what little there is left of the good in him. he’s done nothing but kill, he could never redeem himself, and yet vash isn’t scared nor shuns him for it even with his pacifistic ideals.

vash who has seen the brutal truth of wolfwood’s being and still decides he loves him to the very end.

vash who doesnt believe he deserves any ounce of love or commitment because he only hurts those he gets close to. it’s happened before and itll happen again, like hes a walking time bomb and everything will blow up again and the people close to him will die no matter what he does. and wolfwood who canonly sticks beside him until the end! literally calls himself his guide.

vash who has never had true companionship in his 150 years of living, and wolfwood who follows him to the ends of gunsmoke.

just up until vol10, theyre still toeing the line of the relationship theyve created. but the exact moment vash shows up and chooses to prioritize wolfwood over going after knives (the fucking thing he’s been working towards since the big fall, over a hundred years ago) is the moment he steps past that line. its so extremely open and explicit, even wolfwood asks him ‘why are you here?”

while what he says here is true yes, it also sounds like “you cannot die, i’m here to ‘save’ you because i want to live.”

then to this when wolfwood knows and accepts he will die— the sheer HORROR on vash’s face when he realizes wolfwood wont allow him to save him.

few pages ahead, vash’s monologue starts and these old panels come up. “deep down, he had become very close to me.” basically implying that back then, during the ‘shoot’ moment, they weren’t really close. and when vash accused him: “you’re the coward here.”, “you give up all hope so easily”, it was almost surface level in a way? talking to him at surface level

but now, so many chapters later when wolfwood really does give up hope, vash, with all of his developed love through out the story realizes how differently he feels now. wolfwood made him put a fucking gun to his head (giving up hope), and vash who only scolded and accused him, vs vol10 where when wolfwood gives up hope, vash feels straight terror, that he’s really going to lose him. (also the inverted panel is just so gorgeous.)

the whole “isnt that right, wolfwood?” just proves my entire point that vash’s presence here in this fight steps over the line of vulnerability they had created. he knows how he feels, and he knows that wolfwood feels the same, even if hes speaking to him indirectly.

[innerfare]

Mihawk Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: a random collection of Mihawk relationship headcanons

Genre: fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

He never imagined himself in a relationship. He’d had plenty of one night stands and situationships (he's notorious for allowing sexual tension to fester and never doing anything about it), but an actual relationship had always been off the cards. Until, that is, he met you. He didn’t really think too deeply about it, just started pursuing you. On some level, he knew he was putting you in danger, but he couldn’t stay away. 

Was definitely a victim of love at first sight. He fell first, and he fell harder. 

He is very secretive about his relationship with you, at first only visiting you in the dead of night and leaving before day break, appearing on your balcony like some sort of vampire or succubus. Shanks is the only person who knows about you, and he intends to keep it that way. 

Always brings you something- a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, a piece of jewelry, a pastry he wants to share with you, a piece of lace, silk, or tulle he wants to see you in. Will also bring you books he thought you might like, souvenirs from far away lands, and even pieces of him to hold on to, such as his favorite dagger that now lives on your person (he spent an entire night teaching you how to use it and was ecstatic when you held it to his throat, definitely turned NSFW). Being in a relationship with him is basically like having tamed a wild animal that brings you dead mice he caught. TBH wouldn’t hesitate to bring you the severed head of an enemy if you so desired. 

Of course, he plays all of this off, either saying nothing or giving you a small lecture about how you needed that thing. “I happened to find a copy of that book you mentioned.” “I don’t suppose you have any use for this.” “I brought this vintage wine for myself but I suppose you can have some if you really want.” When he brings you flowers, he tells you it’s because your place is rather drab and if you won’t bother to liven it up, he’ll just have to do it for you (the man lives in a gloomy castle but shhh). When he brings you lingerie, he lays it on your bed without a word or says something along the lines of, “those panties you wore the last time were so cheap they chafed my skin. Wear these from now on.” Alludes to finding the jewelry he gives you in some sort of pirate horde he won’t go into detail on it since it’s in violation of his Warlord contract with the World Government, actually just purchases the pieces from various jewelers he meets on his travels; sometimes seeks out famous jewelers far off the beaten path if he thinks you’ll like that jeweler’s work.

Insists your relationship is not a relationship but is rather an affair. The sort of man to lie about cheating- not about not doing it, but about doing it so you don't get the impression he's committed to you. Won’t tell you he wants to be exclusive, but will yearn for it. Not good about communicating in general, very bad about just thinking things and hoping you’re thinking the same. 

For a long time, he didn’t even want you to come to the Muggy Kingdom for fear the Navy was watching him there and would find out about you. He also refused to speak to you over a transponder snail for fear they had tapped his. 

Never really warmed up to the idea of keeping you close but eventually grew so attached that he couldn’t stand to have you far away. Had no appetite if you weren’t at his table, couldn’t sleep if you weren’t in his bed, didn’t even want to take a shower if he couldn’t use your floral shampoo. Eventually, he convinced himself you were safer with him than without him, and that was that. 

Late nights cooking dinner (dinner is never before seven at Mihawk’s place). Afternoons gardening. Mornings spent discussing whatever’s in the newspaper. Evenings spent making out in the wine cellar because you went down to select a bottle for that night and got carried away. You sitting atop some ruins and watching him practice. Very domestic, but he hates that word. 

Won’t really tell you he loves you unless it’s a late night and he’s very drunk and you insist upon hearing it, certainly won’t admit to needing you, but will press a kiss into your hand and assure you he has deep affection for you. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[clearexpertarcade]

James was sprawled out on the couch, and it was hard not to notice the toll of his recent lifestyle changes. His gray boxers hugged his backside tightly, emphasizing the weight he’d put on. What used to be a barely-there belly had transformed into a noticeable gut, gently spilling over the elastic waistband, while chunky love handles jiggled on either side. I couldn't help but wonder: Does he really not see that roll of fat hanging over his waistband?

“Man, you’re starting to get fat,” I said, half-joking.

James shot me a look, a smirk creeping across his face. “But you’re getting fucking fat, dude. What happened to that six-pack of yours?”

I chuckled, leaning back against the armrest. “Guess I’ve been spending too much time on this couch with your fat ass watching TV.”

“Give me a break,” James scowled, crossing his arms defensively. “It’s not that much weight—”

“Not that much?” I interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Dude, you’ve got a whole new set of curves. You used to have abs; now it looks like you’ve got a mini keg going on.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint blush creeping up his neck. “Okay, maybe I’ve indulged a bit more than I should, but it’s just a phase. I’ll hit the gym again… eventually.”

“Eventually?” I chuckled, glancing at the half-eaten pizza box on the coffee table. “At this rate, your ‘eventually’ is going to turn into a full-blown hibernation.

His belly, once barely chubby, was now fat and sagging over his pants. His chest drooped a little, giving him a look that was more dad-bod than gym-rat. With a mischievous grin, he lifted up his belly, proudly displaying his unbuttoned pants. “See? I had to do the same thing, man. Looks like those pizzas are catching up with us.”

I burst into laughter, unable to help myself. “Dude, that’s a whole new level of comfort! Are you sure you want to show off the ‘unbuttoned’ look? Next thing you know, we’ll be calling you ‘James the Fashionista.’”

“Hey, I’m just being practical,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye. “Who needs to deal with buttons when you’ve got a perfectly good belly to hold your pants up? Besides, it’s a great conversation starter!”

“Yeah, like ‘Hey, check out my gut! Want a slice of pizza?’” I chuckled, shaking my head.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Goth! MC

Requested By: @fernstarsblog

Headcannons

Summary: How the OM! characters would react to an MC who is goth/drawn to the supernatural. The Sevon Demon Brothers & Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon and Solomon Word Count: 2,504

Lucifer remains as expressionless as ever when he first sees you.

After all, you’re a new human exchange student. That’s what everyone should be focusing on, not the way you did your makeup or the way you were dressed.

At the end of the day, you were a target to lower-level demons no matter how you looked.

But, take away those formalities, and Lucifer is completely attracted to your look.

You had an ethereal beauty to you - something he had yet to see in any other human and it drew him in like a moth to a flame.

He’ll notice everything about you - your outlook on life, your interest in the dark and mysterious, etc. 

And he’ll find the opportune moments to have conversations with you about these topics. Lucifer is as much a well of information as Satan, he just doesn’t typically flaunt it the way his younger brother does.

Lucifer is particularly interested in the Gothic culture when it comes to buildings and decoration. Would you say the House of Lamentation fit the bill?

Lucifer only agreed to allow you to put eyeliner on him after a whole lot of Demonus was in his system.

And he wore it with absolute pride. 

Until he realized you took a picture of him with the makeup on and sent it to his brothers.

It’s funny that you’re attracted to the supernatural because he’s about to turn you into a ghost.

Mammon came into the assembly hall with so much confidence, ready to tell you off in front of everyone and make sure you knew that he was the one in charge.

But, when he actually saw you, he stuttered.

He still managed to get his words out in the end, but why were you dressed like that?

Mammon thinks you look great, but you weren’t what he was expecting and you definitely didn’t look like a pushover like he was hoping.

Mammon will boast about your look to others, and he’ll dare someone to comment on it in any way that he didn’t deem acceptable.

But if you’re interested in the supernatural, that’s where Mammon draws the line.

Let’s not forget he’s a scaredy cat when it comes to things like horror movies and ghost stories and whatnot.

He’ll act all brave in front of you, pretending as though he’s interested in the same stuff just for a chance to spend time with you.

But if you go somewhere scary he’ll be holding your hand and if you watch a movie that frightens him, he’ll sit closely to you and offer to turn the light on - all for your sake, of course. He can’t have his human having a heart attack!

That being said, you did notice that Mammon’s latest photoshoot was all goth-themed and he even did the makeup to perfection.

Levi knows all about goth culture.

There are so many iconic characters in his manga and anime who are goth and he can’t help but admire the way they look and act.

There’s something just so intriguing and mysterious about them!

Not to mention the fact that a ton of his video games have designs modeled after gothic looks for their playable characters, NPCs, and the overall setting of the game.

Levi has even considered trying out the gothic look himself when he wanted to cosplay as one of those characters.

But, he’s never been able to bring himself to do it, afraid he won’t be able to get the look right.

But now that he has you, he’s ready to try it!

Please show him all your tricks on properly doing the makeup. He wants to look like this character in this anime!

You’re a bit surprised at how well Levi pulls off the goth look. The eyeliner really brings out his features.

He freaked out when you told him that, but he’ll keep it in mind.

He can’t wait to play all of his favorite games with someone who can truly appreciate the gothic nature of them!

Satan was one to notice your appearance straight away.

There was something different about you than the typical happy-go-lucky and naive humans he had seen pictures of in his books.

Your appearance was something that enticed him.

There was something beautiful and mysterious about the makeup and clothes you wore.

His initial thought was that you looked like you walked right off the pages of one of Edgar Allan Poe’s books.

He even went so far as mentioning that to you and if you tell him that you knew who he was talking about, Satan would be ecstatic.

He believed that Poe was an excellent author in his own right, but he was also from the Devildom so he couldn’t be sure that humans would hold the same affection.

He’ll offer to read some of his stories with you excited to use the similarity to try and get to know you. 

And if you have any other books or authors that were similar he would be more than happy to read those as well!

If you’re drawn to what humans would consider “supernatural” Satan is the best person to turn to.

His knowledge is extensive and he will happily tell you about any creature that you’re curious about.

If you want simple information, he’ll just tell you if it exists or not.

But if you want to know more than that, he’ll excitedly tell you all of the facts he knows.

If you mention a creature he doesn’t know about, he’ll take you to the library and the two of you will do research together until you find what you’re looking for.

All in all - he likes that you’re goth.

Asmo is a bit taken aback by your appearance at first. 

He isn’t used to seeing others wear heavy make-up or such interesting clothes. 

He kept up with all of the latest fashion trends, so of course he knew about the “goth” look.

He just doesn’t typically do it on himself.

But, he loved the way you looked. So much so that he considers you his inspiration for his new look!

Asmo will be attached to your hip, asking you which makeup products you prefer and which colors you tend to use.

He liked making his own clothes and he will make up some outfits that have a gothic look to them with a touch more of Asmo.

He’ll set up a whole photoshoot to show off his clothes and he’ll ask you for help with his makeup.

He wants to make sure he does the look right!

He’ll ask you to do the photoshoot with him, wanting the world to see the two of you together.

But, if you decline, he’ll just take double the amount of photos to make up for it. 

After that photo shoot, you do notice that others in RAD have started dressing the same way.

You and Asmo have started a new trend.

Beel doesn’t focus too much on appearances. It’s all about what’s on the inside for him.

He likes your overall aesthetic, but at the end of the day, he isn’t completely wrapped up in the details of your appearance like some of the others would be.

Did you call yourself “goth”? You’ll have to explain to him exactly what that means.

He’ll ask you if goths eat the same food as other humans in a completely innocent and curious way.

Bad time for a vampire joke.

Beel thought that you were serious about drinking blood and was a bit wary of you. 

Beel can bond with almost anyone about almost anything so he’ll find a way to connect with you.

He enjoys learning more about your culture and he even lets you put makeup on him to see what he would look like.

He 100% pulls off the goth look. 

He also likes listening to you go on and on about your knowledge of the supernatural.

He’ll happily munch on food while he listens to you talk, smiling at the way your eyes lit up as you talked about something that was so closely related to his world.

Belphie is one to make witty comments about your appearance.

He’ll joke about keeping you away from garlic or keeping you inside during a full moon.

He’ll tease you about wearing too dark make-up and will ask you if you have more than one color in your wardrobe.

Basically, anything he can to hide the fact that he finds your look insanely hot.

He’s a total sucker for the goth look but you would never get him to admit it.

He finds your conversations so much more interesting than any other humans because where they shy away from dark topics, you embrace them.

He’ll feel naturally drawn to you and one day you caught him looking up how to do goth makeup on his D.D.D.

He immediately denied it but from that point on you made it a point to try and convince him to let you do his makeup.

He declined every single time and you eventually had to wrestle him and pin him down so that you could apply eyeliner to him.

It was obvious that he wanted to see what he looked like with it because he could have easily pushed you off if he really wanted to.

Belphie pulls off the look effortlessly. He fit right in with the goth culture.

And the next time you were in his bedroom, you noticed eyeliner sitting on his dresser.

Diavolo found your appearance strikingly beautiful.

As the future King of the Devildom, he was drawn to all things dark and mysterious and you fit both of those categories to a T. 

How could he not be attracted to you when you already looked like you belonged?

Diavolo is a very busy man though and didn’t have much time to get to know you at first.

Instead, he had to admire you from afar.

He noticed the way that you wouldn’t be afraid of things in the Devildom. Most humans would have already run for the hills by now.

But you welcomed those things and even looked excited while experiencing them.

When Diavolo finally had a chance to speak with you privately, he wanted to know everything about you.

He was curious to know how you perceived the supernatural and what stories the human world offered about them versus how they actually were in real life.

He wears his classic boyish grin as the two of you talk about it. It’s the first conversation in a long time that he’s been so invested in.

After the two of you grow closer, you manage to convince him to try the makeup.

But, he’ll only do it in your presence. He doesn’t want others to see him with goth makeup in case he can’t pull it off.

But, goth makeup on Diavolo is a 10/10 - especially if he’s in his demon form.

Barbatos won’t mention anything right away, but he does find your goth appearance intriguing. 

Were humans starting to become more in tune with the dark secrets the world had to offer or was it just you?

He had been alive for far too long to be able to keep up with every fashion trend that came out. They all blurred together for him.

But this one stood out. It was alluring in the best way.

It was a look that demanded one’s attention and then refused to let it go. 

And whenever you were in the same room as him, his attention was all on you. 

He would do his best to perform his tasks like normal but his eyes would find their way to you no matter how many times he tried to look away.

He can’t deny the excitement he has when you talk to him about the Devildom.

You have such a natural curiosity for dark things and Barbatos has such an affinity for talking about them.

And your perspective on things in life is refreshing. 

He’s had so many mundane conversations in his life but you find a way to always grab his attention.

The two of you would get along very well.

Simeon is a bit taken aback by your appearance at first.

He came from the Celestial Realm where everything was bright and bubbly. 

So, he didn’t know what to think when he saw you decked out in such attention-grabbing makeup and clothes.

There was no doubt about it, you looked great.

But what was it about your look that was so appealing? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Simeon does some research on the side to understand goth culture.

He finds it much easier to bond with you after knowing why you wear the makeup that you do and the customs surrounding it.

As an angel, he should have been put off by the fact that you were drawn to darker-themed ideas.

But, Simeon secretly had an inner desire to try some darker things himself.

He’s lived his whole life as an angel - don’t judge him.

This inner desire is what drove him to ask you to do his makeup. He just wanted to see what he looked like with it on. For research purposes.

Luke ended up catching the two of you and nearly had a meltdown. So, Simeon didn’t dare try it again.

But you did inspire his main character for his new book.

Being a fellow human, Solomon knows all about the goth trend.

So, there’s no need to have to sit him down and explain it to him.

That being said, you are the first person he had seen execute the look so perfectly and he can’t help but admire you.

How do you manage to get your makeup to look so perfectly? And do you make your own clothes or do you buy them online? Surely you can’t find some of the items you wear at the regular outlet store.

Oh, you want him to try the look out? He couldn’t possibly do that…he says as he’s handing you the eyeliner.

Solomon pulls off the look very well and you have him questioning himself. Why hadn’t he ever thought to try this out?

Solomon will use his new look to prank the brothers with you - especially Mammon.

They don’t quite understand the goth culture so he’ll make it a point to go out of his way to make them think it’s so much more sinister than it is.

“Mammon, let us drink your blood, won’t you?” The white-hair demon ran faster than when he was running from Lucifer.

“Satan, I think I’m having an allergic reaction to the garlic you put in this meal.” The fourth-born laughs it off until you both start hyperventilating.

Then he’s freaking out and looking for a cure until you and Solomon burst out laughing. Not funny.

Solomon would 100% be your partner in crime.

[kakiastro]

Career Astrology

Hey yall! Today we’re going to discuss all things related to your career because there’s way more to it then just X or Y placements.

1. Saturn placement/House + Capricorn placements/House + 10h

Saturn is the first placement we look at when it comes to long-term career, the career we plan on retiring from. It’s what your are interested in as a whole. the house it’s in can give you a better idea on the the career you want. Saturn also rules our head boss(s).

For example: Saturn Aries 12h. You will do well in a career that you are passionate about, where you can be a leader and entrepreneur, a career that motivates you. With it being in the 12h, you will do well in career that emphasize with people, you may also work well alone, this can indicate a spiritual, overseas or a creative type of career.

You see how I didn’t mention a specific career but how the energy can still play out in your life? That’s how you read this.

One Saturn Aries 12h native may be in the navy while another person with this placement may work as a Warden in a prison facility. Both placements rules those things.

- Capricorn is also a career sign because it’s ruled by Saturn. Capricorn placements and the house it rules can give you better clue on what might work for you.

For example: A Capricorn Sun may be in to the creative arts, owns a famous business or even politics. They may have their Sun in the 11h so working with a group of people in person or online.

-the 10h is ruled by Saturn and its the house Capricorn rules. This is the first thing people look at when it comes to careers. The 10h rules over your public image and how people view you. This is how you come across. It’s different than rising because that’s 1 on 1 first impression.

For example: An Aries 10h native may come across as bold, confident, and authoritative. Once you get to know them, they’re really sweet and actually shy due to them having a Cancer rising lol

2. Your MC

-now I know what you’re thinking, Kaki isn’t the MC the same as your 10h? The short answer is No, not always. MC is a point in the sky and depending on your time of birth, it doesn’t have to be in the 10h. I’ve had a few clients who had their MC in their 9h, 10h, 11h, I even had one that had a Mc 12h which was fascinating!

Your MC isn’t just careers, it’s the highest potential you can reach in this lifetime. MC 9h has the potential to reach high levels of knowledge, Mc 10h is career accomplishments, MC 11h with reaching large group of people and your wishes, and MC 12h is highest spiritual potential.

3. Venus placement/house + Taurus and Libra Houses + 2h and 7h

-Venus doesn’t get talked about when it comes to careers and it’s one of the most important ones to look at. Why? Well because Venus rules over our Salary and our Lifestyle. Everyone wants to make a decent salary to live a comfortable life, your Venus can help you achieve that when you learn to use it properly. Venus also rules over relationships so learning how to work with people.

-Taurus/2h rules over our money and investments . Wherever Taurus sits in your chart and the sign your 2h is in can help you reach whatever your financial goals are.

For example: A Leo 2h with a Taurus 11h can make money by being in the arts and by posting them online, being an actor, working with children at daycare etc anywhere career that involves you putting on a “performance” and being around lots of ppl can help.

-Libra/7h, how to work with people 1 on 1 and build those connections up. If you’re a business owner that has a business partner, this is really important for you know.

For example: A Libra 4h with Capricorn 7h native may do well with working with women, possibly from home or a smaller type of work setting that feels like home. Working with hardworking women, they may not like to miss work lol

4. Mercury Placement/house + Gemini and Virgo + 3h and 6h

-Mercury rules over daily routines and work. Saturn is the chosen Career but Mercury is the work we actually do in our career.

Quick example: You work in the Entertainment industry (Saturn) and your actual job is cinematographer (Mercury).

Another quick example You work in Law Enforcement (Saturn) but your actual Job is a Forensic Detective (Mercury).

Mercury rules over communication and how we talk to people.

Gemini/ 3h rules over communication and our co-workers who are on the same level as us. This is how we talk to to our coworkers and what we may talk to each other about. This also rules transportation and we get to work.

For example: Gemini 12h with Virgo 3h. This can manifest in a few ways. I have a friend who have this and she use to tell me how one of her coworkers had no boundaries (12h)and was touch feely (Gemini) and was nosy (Virgo 3h).

Another example: I had another friend who gives free taro readings to her co workers at her job during lunch break😅

-Virgo/6h rules our Job and Dailey routine. This can also show you how your job influence your health because Virgo and the 6h rules over our health. This also rules over coworkers but our managers and supervisors.

5. Extra Tips

-look at your progressed chart as well. This chart can show you what works for you right now

-aspects also hugely influence your places

-your degrees also add some influence as well

As always thank you for reading and supporting my page. It really means a lot to me! If you would like a paid reading then I’m open to help! Just check my pinned post for the details🥰

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kinktober Day 1 - Dirty Talk

Pairing: Glenn Tyler x reader

Word count: 1K

TWs: Not much really, p in v sex but it's all very romantically written tbh.

Kinktober masterlist

You’re trying to spend some proper time studying in the library, but unfortunately Glenn decided to come with you. Glenn is very distracting, even when he’s not trying to be. Those pouty red lips, shining blue eyes, the way his clothes cling to all the right bits of him…you’ve gone off in a daydream thinking about him more times than you can count. And today he’s trying to be distracting. 

“What’re ya thinking about?” He whispers, his lips right next to your ear. 

“Keats,” you reply, sharply, staring down at the textbook you’re desperately trying to read and make notes from. 

“You’ve been on that same page for the past ten minutes.” 

“You’ve had your hand on my thigh for the past ten minutes,” you hiss back. 

He smirks. He likes winding you up, particularly when you’re in public. He thinks you blushing is the cutest thing in the world. 

“You don’t like it?”

You huff. “I’m trying to study, Glenn.”

Glenn chuckles and slides his hand up your thigh a little. “Licence my roving hands, and let them go, before, behind, between, above, below.”

You squeak. He’s murmuring John Donne in your ear in that sexy low Southern drawl of his. This is a whole new level distracting. You know you’re blushing and you push his hand away and put your hands over your face. 

“Stop it!”

He grins, loving seeing you like this. “How blest am I in this discovering thee!” 

“Glenn!” You try to fix him with your best furious glare but your heart is racing and your face is bright red. 

He just carries on grinning, so you turn back to your book and try to carry on reading. But all you’re doing is staring at the page, thinking about kissing him, imagining his hands all over you. A moment later, you feel a hand back on your thigh again. There’s a tingling between your legs and you can’t think straight at all. 

He presses his nose against your cheek and then mumbles into your ear again. 

“As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be.”

You bite your lip and he starts to gently press kisses to your jawline. 

“We’re in the library!” You whisper, unable to stop yourself from giggling. 

“We could get out of the library…” he suggests, his hand creeping under your skirt. 

You squeeze your thighs together and somehow blush even more. This whole study session is ruined now anyway…

“Okay, okay, you win.”

He giggles and nuzzles your cheek. “C’mon. Let’s go back to mine. We can study Keats there.”

***

It turns out that Glenn was quite serious about the Keats. You’d just assumed he was lying. But when you get back to his dorm and he turns the lights down low, after kissing you thoroughly and pulling you under the bedclothes, he starts with the poetry again. 

His voice low in your ear, his fingers working on unbuttoning your dress. “I cry your mercy, pity, love! Aye, love! Merciful love that tantalises not, one-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love, unmasked, and being seen, without a blot!”

You whimper. He’s always romantic but this is taking it to a different level. He pulls his own shirt and pants off quickly and suddenly you’re tangled together, hot breath and exploring fingers, both only in your underwear. He rolls his hips against you and you feel the hardness between his legs. You’ve never actually done it, only kissed and fooled around.

“O! let me have thee whole,” he murmurs sensually in your ear, making shivers run up your spine. 

“Glenn,” you whisper. 

“...all, all, be mine!”

His hands take your wrists and pin them above your head as he rolls himself against you again, making your head spin. 

“Yes,” you moan softly. 

He lets your wrists go, staring into your eyes deeply. 

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He bites his lip, his hands running down your body as he moves to pull your panties off. 

“That shape, that fairness”, he’s looking up at you as he says the words, and then, “that sweet minor zest,” he dips his head down and licks a stripe between your legs, making you wriggle and groan. 

“Of love,” kissing your clit and then all the way up your body to your chin, “your kiss,” he takes the time to kiss your lips properly, then sits up and quickly removes his own underwear. 

He takes both of your hands in his as he continues, “those hands,” kissing them all over, “those eyes divine,” staring into your eyes and kissing your cheeks. 

You stare back at him, completely overtaken by lust and love. He reaches to unhook your bra and you help him slide it off your arms. He’s staring down at you with the same unbridled lust you’re looking at him with. 

“That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,” he starts to kiss your breasts in turn, watching you as he does it. Then kissing turns to fondling and licking, then sucking on nipples.

“I want you,” you whisper, hoarsely. 

You’re aching for him. He touches you a little and then slowly starts to push inside, lying right on top of you as he slowly thrusts in and out. Your legs wrap around him as you sigh with pleasure. His tongue explores your mouth as his hips roll into you like the sea. He feels it when you’re getting close, that familiar feeling of a body tensing, and his lips move back to your ear. 

“Yourself, your soul, in pity give me all,” he groans as he struggles to hold back his own orgasm. Wanting you to come first. “Withhold no atom’s atom or I die.”

You whine as you feel pleasure rise inside you and finally peak, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. He follows soon after, holding you against him as he shudders and sighs. 

“Glad you came home from the library?” He teases, when you’ve both come round a bit. 

You stroke his cheek. “That was so romantic. You made it really special.”

His face turns serious. “I’m glad, honey. I wanted it to be special.” He kisses you, and then his cheeky little grin returns. “And I even got some studying done!”

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[glamaphonic]

i did this for rick so as promised my personal headcanon on the trajectory of michonne's feelings for rick

the most fun thing for me about this is that even though i would say that michonne is generally quite emotionally astute, it actually takes her way waaaaay longer than rick to be able to recognize what's going on between them

rick and michonne are so similar in terms of the things that drive them, that move them, that are most important to them (as gimple said: they have the same soul) and her entire approach to their relationship is basically tied into the fact that she and rick had inverse experiences at the very beginning of the apocalypse. he set out to find his family and did. whereas michonne had her family and lost them.

so she closes it all down, decides to just go away, but she can't really escape who she is, so she helps andrea. and this starts the recurring pattern in michonne's character arc where she repeatedly comes to these decision points where she has to make a choice between giving in to the nothingness or being herself (someone who is loving, compassionate, a protector) and every time she makes the choice to be true to herself, it invariably leads her to rick and their family

so from the moment they meet in s3 she is also viscerally drawn to him the same way he is to her, and like him there is no way she's in a place to even begin to process this. but she sought him out specifically because she was making that choice, to look for connection and community, and she sees who he is pretty much immediately, and so extends him this profound trust over and over again because who he is, what she sees in him, is fundamentally why she wants to be a part of that community.

in 4a, michonne's trauma has her turned every which way. she's already grown attached to rick and to carl and her reaction to this is to keep one foot out the door; to not be fully present for the community. to try to keep her distance even though while she's away she's still obviously thinking about her grimes boys all the time, i.e. bringing them back gifts, etc. and then the prison falls and it seems to justify her caution.

in 4b, she comes to one of those decision points and when she chooses to seek connection and community, it returns her to rick and carl. in my other post i note that this is where rick claims her as a grimes, but this is also where michonne fully commits. she claims them too. she accepts that they are hers. and of course we all know, and danai has even pointed out, the exact moment michonne fully falls in love with rick, when it clicks somewhere inside of her that it's only ever going to be him. but she's still nowhere near ready to consciously face that.

in 5a and through to 5b, just like rick she's not spending time examining what they've become. it just is. that's her family. they belong to each other.

towards the end of 5b, when rick starts to Realize, michonne doesn't because she instead actively sublimates the fact that she is in love with rick, that she has regained what she lost during the turn, into her general dedication to community. she puts everything into trying to shepherd their community without acknowledging her personal stake. which is what leads us to:

the end of 5b and through 6a during which michonne has to have 3 or 4 different people pretty much say to her face HEY YOU GET THAT YOU’RE MARRIED TO RICK AND RAISING CHILDREN WITH HIM RIGHT? YOU GET THAT BEYOND FOSTERING A COMMUNITY ON A MACRO LEVEL YOU HAVE A WHOLE ASS HUSBAND AND TWO KIDS? YOU GET THAT YOU DESERVE TO EMBRACE THIS THING THAT IS FOR YOU SPECIFICALLY AND LIVE A FULL LIFE?

but that final wall is so hard to get past because that wound is so deep, she has to sit with all of that for a good long while (she's working up to it), and it still takes carl basically openly declaring that she's his mother and rick actually making the move before she finally lets herself see, in that moment, what was already long since there.

and it's just very delicious to me personally that from 4a on rick was hers for the taking, honestly. all she had to do was say the word, but she wasn't ready to take him until that moment on the couch.