#i like to imagine that when they do start to perform again they refuse to look up or always have something covering their faces

[lanternlightss]

the lawrences and nbd parents: we have made a bard

nb, giving both anbd and nbd a hug: you messed up two perfectly good children is what you did. look at them, they’re terrified of and despise crowds!

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Good Luck Charm | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

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Summary: If this was just supposed to be Casual, why is he acting like this? Why is he holding her close as if he never plans to let go? [Inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan]

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Part 2 of my Is It Casual Now? series: Masterlist: Part 1

It had started out as a casual thing. A friends-with-benefits arrangement, nothing more. At least, that’s what she told herself at first.

But Charles made it difficult to keep things casual. There was an undeniable charm to him, a sweetness she hadn't anticipated. He didn’t just text her at night or call her when he was back in Monaco. Instead, he called regularly, sometimes even when he was across the world for a race. He’d ask about her day, make her laugh with stories about his travels, and always ended with some version of, “I can’t wait to come home and see you.”

And then, there were the little things he did that went beyond what she’d expected. He’d bring her favorite coffee when they met up, remember small details she’d mentioned in passing, and leave her cute voice messages when he found something that reminded him of her. Charles was effortlessly thoughtful, as if caring for her was second nature.

One evening, after a tough qualifying session, he called her, his voice a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “You would not believe how bad the setup felt today,” he complained. “It’s like the car just… refused to cooperate.”

She listened as he vented, offering encouragement and making him laugh with a few lighthearted comments. By the end of the call, he sounded calmer, even managing a smile in his voice. “You know, you’re good at this. You make me feel better even from thousands of miles away.”

“Well, someone has to keep you sane,” she teased.

“Oh, you’re doing much more than that,” he replied warmly. “Really, I wish you could be here. You’d probably make the whole race go smoother, just by being around.”

“Is that so?” she teased, her heart swelling at the thought. “And how exactly would I do that?”

“Your mere presence would calm my nerves,” he insisted, the playful lilt in his voice making her laugh. “You know how competitive it gets. If I could just look up and see you, I’d feel so much better.”

“Maybe I’ll have to make an appearance then,” she said lightly, but in her heart, she felt a pang of longing at the thought of being close to him, sharing those moments in person.

As the weeks passed, the calls became a comforting routine. He’d check in after qualifying sessions, asking her opinion on his performance, or he’d call after a disappointing race, needing to vent. It was during those moments that she began to see how much he truly valued her support.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to come in tenth?” he grumbled one afternoon, his voice low and strained as he paced in his hotel room.

“Pretty frustrating, I’d imagine,” she replied sympathetically. “But it’s just one race, right? You’ve got more coming up.”

“Yeah, but it’s Monaco next! I can’t mess that up. It’s my home! The pressure is insane.” He took a deep breath, and she could almost picture him running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I need to win this one.”

“Then you need to focus and stop overthinking it. You’re talented, Charles. Trust your instincts. You’ve got this,” she reassured him, her voice firm.

“You always know what to say. I can’t wait to come home and see you again.” He sounded lighter, a smile evident in his tone. “Maybe you should come see me race sometime.”

She laughed it off, but Charles was relentless. Every few days, he’d bring up the idea of her coming to watch him race. “Come on,” he’d say, “Just one weekend.”

But she kept brushing it off, always with a half-serious excuse. “Charles, I have a job, remember? I can’t just fly out to some random country you know”

One evening, he finally pulled out his best argument. “Monaco,” he said with a grin she could practically hear over the phone, “that's literally our backyard. No excuses this time.”

She groaned, pretending to resist. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“But charmingly so,” he countered, voice teasing but hopeful.

Eventually, she caved. “Fine. I’ll come. Just because you’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”

His laugh was practically a shout of victory. “You’re going to love it, I promise. And I’ll make sure you have the best seat in the house.”

When she arrived at the paddock on race day, Charles was waiting for her at the VIP entrance, practically bouncing on his feet. The moment he spotted her, he broke into a grin and quickly made his way over.

“You came!” He wrapped her in a hug, holding her close like he hadn’t seen her in years.

“I told you I’d be here,” she laughed, squeezing him back. “Though you owe me big time for putting up with all this noise and chaos.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to make it up to you,” he replied with a smirk, keeping his arm around her as he led her inside. “Let me show you around.”

Charles walked her through the paddock, his hand resting possessively on her lower back as he guided her past the hustle and bustle of team members, mechanics, and engineers. He introduced her to some of the crew, who greeted her with warm smiles, and she couldn’t help but feel the pride radiating from Charles as he spoke about the work they put into the car.

“See that guy?” he said, pointing to a tall man with a headset who was deeply focused on the monitor. “That’s my race engineer. He’s the one who helps guide me during the race.”

She nodded, genuinely interested as Charles continued to explain the intricacies of the race preparations. “And this,” he said, leading her to the Ferrari garage, “is where all the magic happens.”

As they entered at the Ferrari garage, Charles spotted his brother Arthur nearby. “Ah, you have to meet Arthur,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “You’ll love him.”

Arthur approached, giving her a friendly grin as he shook her hand. “So, you’re the ‘lucky charm’ Charles keeps talking about,” he said, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Don’t start,” Charles muttered, clearly embarrassed, though he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heat up as she shot Charles a playful look. “I didn’t realize I had such a reputation around here.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Arthur chuckled, giving his brother a knowing look. Charles just rolled his eyes and nudged him away, muttering something about “family being an embarrassment.”

Before long, Charles was called back for his final preparations, and he turned to her, his expression softening. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“Front row seat,” she promised, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The race itself was a whirlwind of emotions. As the lights went out and the cars roared to life, she felt her heart racing in tandem with the engines. Each lap was a rollercoaster of tension and excitement, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Charles. He navigated the track with grace and determination, every move calculated, every turn precise.

With each passing lap, the anticipation built, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, she couldn’t help but scream with joy. The entire atmosphere erupted in cheers, but for her, it was all about Charles. He’d done it. He’d won!

As he climbed out of the car, sweat glistening on his forehead, he scanned the crowd until his eyes locked onto hers. A wide smile broke across his face, and he hurried over, not caring about the cameras or the noise.

“Did you see that? I did it!” he shouted, wrapping her in a tight hug that lifted her off the ground. She could hardly believe it as he peppered her face with kisses, excitement spilling over. “You’re my good luck charm!”

“I think you had it in you all along!” she laughed, overwhelmed by the joy radiating from him.

“Not without you here,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You make everything better.”

She laughed, still wrapped in his arms, as he planted quick, enthusiastic kisses all over her face. “Charles, everyone’s watching!”

“Let them watch,” he said, not even caring, still grinning as he peppered her face with kisses.

The celebration was in full swing when they stepped into the club, Charles was surrounded by friends, team members, and fans who were all there to revel in his long-awaited Monaco victory. The energy was infectious, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride watching him receive endless pats on the back, his grin wide and eyes gleaming under the flashing lights. He never let her stray far from his side, keeping a steady arm around her waist as they moved through the crowd.

"Finally won my home race," he said, leaning close so she could hear him over the music, his voice filled with disbelief and joy. "It still doesn’t feel real."

She nudged him lightly, a teasing smile on her lips. "You sure it happened? You’re not dreaming right now?"

"Guess I’ll find out if I wake up," he said, laughing as he twirled her in place, pulling her back against his chest. "But you’re here, so I’d say this has to be real."

They both laughed, the shared warmth and excitement washing over them like a wave. He kept her close as they moved through the club, accepting congratulations and raising toasts with anyone who approached. But every few minutes, his hand would slide back to hers, squeezing her fingers or pulling her back to his side. His eyes would find hers, that familiar spark of mischief dancing in his gaze.

Eventually, they found themselves tucked into a quieter corner of the club, away from the crowd. Charles leaned against the wall, tugging her closer until her hands rested on his chest, his grin turning cheeky as he looked down at her.

“So, you’re not disappearing on me tonight, are you?” he teased, his fingers tracing a lazy line up her arm. “I kind of like having you around.”

“Disappearing?” she laughed. “Please, Leclerc, it’s like I’m glued to you tonight. You’ve barely let go of my hand.”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to her waist as he pulled her even closer. "Can you blame me? Best night of my life, and I want you right here."

The sincerity in his voice softened her, but he quickly masked it with a grin, tugging her back onto the dance floor. They spent hours laughing, dancing, and talking between sips of champagne, the atmosphere around them filled with lighthearted banter. Charles was in his element, his joy contagious as he celebrated with everyone around him, but his attention kept circling back to her—small glances, soft touches, lingering smiles.

At one point, he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Come with me."

Before she could respond, he was guiding her toward a secluded corridor at the back of the club, pressing her gently against the wall. His hands settled on her waist as he looked down at her, his gaze intense and filled with an energy that set her pulse racing. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was equal parts heated and sweet, his fingers tracing her sides as he held her close.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice a low murmur. "Thank you for being here tonight. Wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate with anyone else."

The words made her chest tighten, and before she could respond, he was kissing her again, a soft laugh escaping his lips as they stayed wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world outside their small bubble.

Later, as the night wound down, they left the club together, Charles’ hand never leaving hers. Back at his apartment, he pulled her inside, his smile turning playful again. "One more toast, maybe?"

“Isn’t that what you said after the last toast?” she teased, following him into the kitchen as he poured them each a final glass of champagne.

“What can I say? It’s a big night,” he said, winking. They clinked glasses, his eyes never leaving hers as they sipped, and when she set her glass down, he was already pulling her close, his lips brushing along her jawline before settling on her lips.

They drifted into his bedroom, Charles’ touches growing more insistent as he held her close, a mix of laughter and whispered words filling the space between them. He was relentless, the intensity of the night fueling each kiss, each lingering touch as they stayed wrapped up in each other.

Finally, as the early hours of morning crept in, they lay tangled together in his bed, the celebrations fading into a comfortable quiet. Charles lay beside her, his face nestled against her neck as his breathing slowed, a soft smile on his face.

“Perfect night,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

She smiled, her fingers running through his hair as she whispered, “Yeah, it was.”

In the quiet that followed, she felt his breathing even out, his arm around her tightening slightly as he drifted off to sleep, holding her close as if he never planned to let go.

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Taglist: @dullypully @wintterily @sageskiesf1 @firefirevampire @eloriis

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[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Warnings: Incest, light smut, swearing, cheating

Pairing: Cregan Stark x reader, Aemond Targaryen × reader

1.01

Your eyes glistened with tears as they dribbled down your cheeks. You swallow back the bile rising and rub at your temples with your free hand, bringing yourself back to reality. You could only stare up at the empty sky for so long while imagining what it would be like to be an actual dragon, free to go wherever you want.

“He’s been feeding for some time,” Aemond says softly. “His stomach must be full.”

“I know how to feed my babe. He’ll stop latching on when he’s no longer hungry.”

Aemond, who was still standing on the opposite side of the room, slowly starts to approach you. “I mean know offensive wife, I know you care for him without fault.”

You say nothing.

A few moments pass, and your babe finally lets go of your breast. When you wipe milk from his mouth, he starts to fuss. “There, there,” you coo. “There’s nothing to cry over, my little Prince; time for bed.”

Gently you put Maitland into the cot placed beside your bed; only after you’re sure he’s settled do you finally make eye contact with Aemond. His eye is glossy with tears. “You had your belongings moved from our bedchamber.”

Aemond attempts to touch your shoulder, but you shrug him off.

“Twas only a matter of time, wasn’t it? Before you betrayed me.” Your voice cracks and your stomach churns. “I will not share a bed with a man who puts his precious whore before his family and lies to my face.”

“If Aegon—”

“Do not blame him for letting me know how much of a fool I was. Singing your praises, bearing your child, bragging how I had the perfect husband. I needed you by my side, Aemond, but instead of being there, you were coddled by that old whore.”

His lip twitches, “And what do you purpose we do now? I’m still your husband. We have a child together; you must hold some love for me.”

“When Maitland is older, we will perform our duty again, but until then, nothing. No more dragon riding, no more attending plays together, no walks in the garden. When we walk by each other in the halls, we will say nothing.”

“None of it needs to be this way in truth.”

The raw emotion in his voice is surprising, but you refuse to budge. Give into your emotions. Aemond broke something inside. You whisper, “It’s too late.”

His sight goes to the cot, and you could see the wheels of panic turning.

“You are free to spend as much time with our son as you wish; just try not to disappoint him as you have me.”

Five years later

Breathing in the scent of dragon, you bury your nose deeper into the crook of Aemond’s neck. The smell brings you comfort, a warmth you don’t get from your husband.

Pushed up against the cold wall in your chambers, you wait for Aemond to finish fucking you as if you were a bitch in heat. Aemond was completely nude, while your body was concealed by your green dress. Aemond lets go of your hip and pinches your nipple; he smirks, feeling the way you arch your back.

Your fingers cling to his hair, “fuck, harder.”

Aemond speeds up his thrust, his hips slapping against yours. The maester had worked out the best time during each moon for his seed to take, and it was one of the few times you’d interact. There were times you felt lonely and sought out his comfort, but each time you went to his bedchambers they were empty.

He was with her.

Trying to fall in love with Aemond again was as painful as reopening an old wound.

“Gods,” he grunts, spilling his seed. His lips graze your ear. “It’s been too long since we did this.”

“Yes, well…” You brush by him and begin putting your stockings back on. “We have much to do in the name of our king.”

While redressing, Aemond frowns watching you walk towards the door. “Where are you going? The handmaidens are coming shortly to help you get ready.”

“To see my boy.”

“He’s asleep.”

“I know that, Aemond,” you deadpan. “It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. Once I arrive, I’ll need to bathe before formally meeting with Lord Stark. I don’t imagine northerners will appreciate the strong smell of dragon after a long journey.”

A sound that resembles chuckle leaves his lips.

When your grandsire first proposed sending dragon riders as envoys, you offered to fly the longest journey north. Helaena did not wish to participate; Daeron was in Old Town, and Aegon needed to remain in the keep, leaving only you and Aemond to bicker over what houses you’d visit.

In the privacy of the small council with only Aegon and yourself, your grandsire speaks freely. “Mayhaps it would be better if the princess went to treat with Lord Cregan at Winterfell. He is young but fierce and may be persuaded by the gentle heart of a woman rather than threats.”

It was known Stark didn’t break oaths, but you had an ulterior motive for volunteering.

“I do not need a fancy dress to go dragon riding. I will see my son before going to the dragon pit.” You bite at your nails while contemplating what to say next. “Be safe, brother.”

—

“Princess.”

Disappointment strikes you as soon as you see Ser Criston standing post outside your bedchamber. You start walking down the hallway, knowing the knight would follow close behind. “Where is my sworn shield?”

“I took over his shift.”

Scoffing, you glare at him. “Scared I’ll tell my husband of your dirty little secret?”

“Not at all princess; I know the love you hold for the dowager queen and wouldn’t risk tarnishing her name.”

If the hour wasn’t late and you weren’t near your son's nursery, the knight would have received the sharpness of your tongue. But you had no intention of waking Maitland.

“You’ve become too comfortable around dragons, Ser Criston. If it was one of my brothers who walked in, they would have been burned in flames by now.”

Your demeanor changes when you reach the nursery, “Ser Arryk.”

“Princess,” he opens the door for you. “Lord commander.”

Ameond had personally chosen Ser Arryk to be Maitland's shield, and it was a wise decision. “Ser Arryk, during my absence there's naught to be changed to my son's customs.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight, princess.”

—

When you arrived at Winterfell, you were informed Lord Stark wasn’t in his castle but at Castle Black. After accepting a warm meal and a chance to clean up, you fly on Dragonback to the wall, much to the horror of the men of the night’s watch.

“Most of them thought you were coming to burn us.”

You chuckle, “Fear is common in the presence of a dragon, but I suppose the rangers who scout beyond the walls will have much worse things to fear.”

“They are a sight to behold. My father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall; it’s an honor to lay eyes on the same dragons he did. Although I am surprised you are alone, princess.”

“Vermithor and Silverwing are deeply connected and cannot be parted easily.”

When you reach the top of the wall, you take each step with caution; ice and snow weren’t something you were accustomed to walking on. Lord Stark notices and does his best to hide the smile on his face.

“Do they both have riders?”

You smile proudly, “Silverwing is bonded with my son. He is too young and small to mount her yet, but the dragon keepers think he will be ready in a couple of years.”

“Many of the ladies in Winterfell laugh that I won’t allow my son, Rickon, who is seven, to travel to the wall with me.”

You continue making small talk about your children, and you learn Lord Stark’s wife died in childbirth. He stops walking when you reach a spot in the middle of the wall that faces the forest, which is believed to be haunted. The longer you stare at it, the darker it becomes, just like you had foreseen in your head.

“I’ll speak freely with you, princess; Starks do not forget their oaths, and my father swore our house and bent the knee to the king's chosen heir in front of King Viserys and princess Rhaenyra. You must know that regardless of who sits on the throne, my gaze will forever be torn between north and south.”

“Thank you, my lord, for being honest.” Your reaction of understanding instead of anger seems to surprise him. “When winter comes, your strength will be needed here more than in King's landing. Your men are the guardians against the cold and the dark.”

He cocks his head; the look in his eyes is hard to read. “Most people outside our lands think the wall was built to keep out wildings and weather.”

“Death sleeps beneath the ice.”

[glitterjay]

can u please please please write husbandgirldad!Jay x fem Reader (idol Jay) and he comes home after a long day of work and misses his wife

(smut)

⭒ husband!jay, idol!jay, wife!reader, married, they have 2 daughters, pet names, praising, soft dom jay, coming inside, there's some fluff, minors dni

⭒ c's note: i've become even more delulu because this man is soooo husband material 😞 i need him so bad its not even a joke anymore

⭒ taglist (open): @hollyoongs @fertilizedtoesw

please reblog if you like it! it helps me a lot

the idol life behind cameras was way harder than people imagined. the public eye does not see the amount of hard work and training idols have to go through every day to be able to give their audience an excellent performance. the support of fans is crucial for artists to be successful and so they had to fulfill things according to their preferences.

it was a big deal when jay wanted to put out in the light his relationship with you back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was a risk he was willing to take. to both of your surprises, the news didnt receive as much backlash as you expected, with some people saying jay was already an adult tat knew what he wanted, and it was his life to live anyway.

now you were openly his wife, and you and your two girl were known of. the only difference was that nobody knew who his wife or kids were. your relationship had been open ever since you were just dating, but for your privacy and now your girls' sake, jay never put your faces to the light.

he was preparing for a comeback, so he was hardly home during the day, and was only there at night to rest and then went back to work early in the morning. your two daughters said they missed their dad, and that they wanted to play with him and see him in person, not through facetime like they had grown used to for the past month. it was hard to tell them he was busy, but it was all you could say.

promotions would be over eventually, and he'd be back home for a while before the company decided to give him another comeback. it was tough to get used to at first, but the routine became a part of you.

-

it was already pretty late at night. your oldest daughter who was already 6 years old had gone to bed after a shower while you tried to comfort your crying 3 year old. she was a little irritated because she was tired, but she kept repeating the word "dada" over and over. it broke your heart, but it was too late to keep waiting, and she was evidentially falling asleep as the seconds passed.

as you tried to sing her to sleep, you heard the front door open. it had caused her to open her eyes again, and she started crying once more. you sighed and took her with you to the living room to greet your husband, who smiled as soon as he saw the both of you enter his field of vision.

"what is this little one doing awake?" he asked, taking the little girl from your arms to hold her in his. she quickly laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, it was as easy as that. she missed her dad and you couldnt blame her for it.

"she was being grumpy and stubborn. she wanted to wait for you and refused to sleep. our oldest princess couldnt make it, she went straight to bed on her own like a big girl."

jay laughed and kissed the little girl's temple, giving you a kiss on the lips after. "i'll put her to sleep with her sister and then we can catch up, mmkay?"

-

it was very sweet to see your busy husband make some time to see his daughters even if he was exhausted. he was leaning on the frame of their room's door staring at them with glistening eyes. it was the same look he had on his face when they were born. you would stay up for him and you would ask how things were going with his schedules, but it didnt last long most of the time. you were both tired, him from all the training, and you from doing everything around the house and taking care of the kids. being a mom is a full time job as well.

you waited for him in your shared bed, already getting comfortable as he changed his clothes. you laid on your side, your back facing his part of the bed, and you sighed. the day had seemed to be longer and more tiring than other, and you didnt think you'd stay awake much longer.

you felt the other side of the bed sink as jay laid down, quickly pressing his chest to your back, hugging you tightly and giving you kisses all over your neck and shoulders. you missed him. his scent, his voice, his touch. it didnt take much time for you to feel his hips moving under the covers, something rock solid poking your ass. jay was still incredibly close to you, and you could feel him breathing on your ear. his hands roamed your body, tickling your tummy as they passed by every inch of skin he could possibly touch. you closed your eyes and melted on his arms.

his hands found a stop on the hem of your sleeping shorts, sliding in past your panties as well to touch where you needed most. you let out a shaky gasp, throwing your head back to rest it on jay's body. he was still busy kissing all over your neck and shoulders, biting and licking as well. his hand was doing wonders to your clit and hole, it was a charm that was still there despite all this years.

in all honesty, jay missed all the intimacy you used to have as boyfriend and girlfriend, which was soon lost when his girls, who were his pride and joy, came into the world, and his busy schedules. the stress was starting to pile up on his shoulders, and there was nothing else he longed for more than having you all to himself like he used to.

he removed the covers that were covering both of you, and hovered over your body. he positioned himself between your legs, and stayed there for a good minute just admiring you. for some reason, his gaze made you feel intimidated, and you looked away. this caused him to reach for you face and force you to look up at him again. "is it just me, or do you look more stunning as the days go by?"

it was like your first time all over again. the sweet talk, the ghosting touches, the nervousness, the excitement that came with it, it was just beautiful. jay was quick to get his, and your lower half naked. his dick was free and for a moment your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. was he always this big?

he aligned his tip with your entrance and you saw him throw his head back at the contact. he was overly sensitive and he could've sworn the rest of his life flashed before his eyes. there was just something about you that made him go crazy in every sense, and not being able to have a moment like this in a long time had thrown him over the edge.

once he was fully in, he let you adjust for a few seconds. your walls were clenching hard on him, swallowing his cock entirely. he wanted to move, he wanted to thrust, he wanted to make you scream, but it wasnt the same as before. there were two girls soundly asleep in a room a few steps away. he had to go slow and plus, he wanted the moment to last as long as it could.

he was gentle, moving with a steady but not too fast pace. your hands held to his strong arms, which held your waist tightly. the ring on your hand was glowing and so was the one on his hand. it was a cute thing to see. jay could see the way his pace made your body move up and down and it was an amazing sight to watch.

"missed you so fuckin' much." he said between thrusts.

all you could do was groan and gasp in return. you were biting your lip to retrain your noises as much as you could. you knew that if you replied with words, your own voice would betray you, and jay would definitely make you moan out loud on purpose.

" 'm gonna make you mine again."

his words were not only directed at you, but at your pussy as well. his right hand left your waist to play with your clit, and you had to let go of his arms to cover your mouth. jay knew you were close by the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and how you body was starting to shake.

"fucking hell, you're so hot. cum for me, baby."

and right on command, you released on him, gasping for air as you tried to push him away with everything you had. it had been a long time since you came this hard, it was overwhelming to still have him inside you. to your dismay, he would keep going until he was done.

"hold on a little bit, honey. you're doing so well for me."

it was hard to hold in a scream, and jay was aware of it. the hand that was once playing with your bundle of nerves made its way to your face, where he inserted to fingers into your mouth.

"that a girl. stay busy, love. let me use you while i can."

with groans and low moans, he came inside you. the warm sensation made you have yet again another orgasm, and your sight became fuzzy. there was a ringing in your ears from the rush that died down quickly when you felt your husband kissing your thighs to soothe you up.

"im sorry for finishing inside like that," he said. "it just had been so long since i last did it.. three years to be exact."

you laughed it off with the last bit of energy you had left, and signed for him to get closer with your hand. you grabbed his face and kissed him passionately. "thankfully, i've been on the pill ever since."

"bummer, i wanted a third."

© glitterjay

[pinkheartist]

Imagine the SAGAU with Mitsuri! Reader? :3 (Part one?)

TW: mentions of Eating disorder, but mostly fluff and comfort. OCC characters??? Idk

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You’re self-aware of how much you truly eat, it’s not your fault, really! But when it comes to your favorite characters, you can’t help but feel a little insecure about it. You already had problems with that in the past, the feeling of people constantly judging the amount of food you ate was stuck in your mind and others saying that you had the appetite of a dragon wasn’t nice to your confidence. What if they start to appreciate you less as the almighty creator? would they be disgusted by this habit of yours?

With that possibility in mind, you reprimed your appetite and stuck to the plan of eating as few as possible, sometimes not even eating half of the plate they would offer to you properly. You really thought no one would notice? truly naive of you. They first thought you didn’t like the food, but after noticing your eyes glimmering and your mouth watering at the food before you shake your head and refuse it, they realized it was more complex than just a matter of personal taste.

Ei was the first to take the initiative alongside Nahida to try and talk to you about it. She may seem intimidating, but deep inside there is still a golden heart lying behind her stoic face. With a bit of persistence from Nahida’s part, they managed to get answers from you. The Electro and Dendro Archons comforted you, Ei gave you a portion of Kuki’s famous chocolate chip cookies that she bought, this was the best she could do since her cooking was awful, and Nahida affirmed that no matter how big your appetite was, they would still love you as their creator no matter what. They both wipe your tears away after you cry from relief, that the possibility of them shaming you from who you are never came…

The other Archons also joined the party. When you said you had the appetite of a dragon, Zhongli was left confused until you told him what it meant (He’s a little too literal). “There is nothing to be ashamed about. Your enormous strength must come from eating a bigger amount of food, right? Then, you should continue eating as much as you like. Don’t waste your ability to hear on those pesky little comments on your body, you are absolutely perfect in my point of view, Your Grace” The Geo dragon said, and trust me when i say that he would personally throw his polearm at the person who even thought of looking at you the wrong away while you eat at least 3 plates of (favorite meal)

If you said you would get heavy if you eat so much, Venti would use his Anemo powers to make you fly, seeing you smile from the fun you were having was like a Cupid’s arrow striking right in his heart (again). “See? You’re light enough for the wind to carry you, so I don’t want to hear you calling yourself heavy again. You are very much deserving of compliments, more then you think you are! I assure you that” Venti demanded after safely putting you down. “But-” “No buts!” Venti interrupted you before you could say any nonsense about yourself. As the self-proclaimed most devoted and loyal Archon you had, he would never bring himself to let you put yourself down like that

Furina did the best she does to make your feel better: Put up the best of her performances to take even the slightest of the smiles off from you. You can’t say it didn’t worked, the show was amazing! And after the show, Furina offered you a piece of (favorite flavour) cake that she brought from the best bakery there is on Fontaine, along with some macarronis made by herself and tea. “I’m banning any degradetive words with the slightest reference to you, and that rule also will apply to you!“ she exclamed “M-Me?“ You stuttered “Yes! Such blasphemy about the magnificent divine shoudn’t leave from any person’s mouth, specially when you’re the one doing it“ Her blue eyes softened as getting lost on yours “...Don’t say such things about yourself, it breaks my heart to see you blinded by insecurety, not seeing how stunning you are..“

Mavuika was surprised by the way you honestly described yourself. Of course, she did expected you to be humild on your own description, but not so lowly to the point you compare yourself to a monster, and for what? For eating 3 more than proper meals everyday plus a ton snacks? That’s ridiculous!! who put that thought on your head? She’ll hunt this person like there is no tomorrow. But jokes aside, “Hey, it’s not something you can exactlly control, can you? Everybody works differently. And your apitite is something unique, a thing that difies you from the rest, in a good way!“ she ruffles you hair, grinning widely at your flustered expression “Plus, the way you get so excited over the diverse cusines around Teyvat, and your eating face are the most adorable thing in the world!“

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Ummmmm…Yeah, srry if it’s bad i haven’t write for a century. If you’d like me posting more of those, please let me know :3 Baiii ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

Tag list

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[starlightsreigns]

bloodline | the bloodline

summary: gianna feels like the shinest toy in the middle of a classroom with everyone eyeing it. she attracts all the interest when she walks into the room, and now it's causing chaos. But, chaos is so fun and it's only the beginning.

warning: language and BRIEF smut

word count: 10.1k

author's note: she for the whole team — twins. but I started writing this and over time the main love interest kept changing as the story developed hahah. I'm just a girl and I love every version of the bloodline (i couldn't find a gif of the whole bloodline so imagine) x

“i ain't lookin' for my one true love, yeah, that ship sailed away”

Gianna rubs her eyes trying to mask the exhaustion written all over her face. she forces a smile as the photographer lifts his camera towards her. the flashes don’t help with the headache that’s pounding through her skull. if anything, she wants to be in bed with her comfort movie and a pile of food — but of course, work always comes first. 

“c’mon, Gigi, that’s the best you got?” a familiar voice booms through the room. 

solo stands in the doorway of the room, a grin on his face because he knows he’s irritating her. “damn, my bad.” he raises his hand when she glares in his direction. “don’t be like that.” 

eighteen years of knowing someone makes you immune to their antics. Gianna and Solo have been best friends since fifth grade; attending the same schools in California since kindergarten, but something changed in their last year of elementary school that brought them together – that something being their teacher sitting them beside each other. Their similar loud nature and her crush on his older brothers made their friendship blossom over the years. She was a cheerleader in high school, and he followed his brothers and cousin in being a football player. They spent every waking moment together, took the same classes, made the same jokes, and got close to each other’s family. 

Graduation hit them like a ton of bricks – they spent 13 years always in the same state and school, and now that had to change. Neither one of them understood how much that would hurt. While he stayed in Sacramento for a while and then went on to North Dakota, Gianna moved across the country to Florida. They’ve always been committed to their friendship, which meant every holiday was spent in California and every school vacation was divided between there and Florida. For four years, they made it work through the school work, the various jobs, and the multiple relationships that found their friendship a little too high maintenance – but it only had to matter to them. 

Gianna finished college, and with the push of Solo’s older brother, Jimmy and Jey convinced her to try out for WWE. It was always a pipe dream. They came from a wrestling family, the most prominent one at that, and she fell in love with it because of them. Gianna couldn’t imagine making it in the business, but the twins refused to let up. They’d take her to the performance center whenever they were in town until she was convinced she could do this. She trained and prepped until her body couldn’t take it anymore. 

The distance came. Their friendship was harder to balance once she joined the main roster years later. Once he joined WWE, their schedules were even more of a mess, but again, if they could survive six years across the country from each other, they could survive the fucking apocalypse – and yeah, they survived the apocalypse to be on the same show now…

Gianna glances at Solo again. Usually, she’d smile at his comment, but any facial movements only exacerbate the growing pains in her body. And he could see it from where she stood. The way her face could barely hold a scowl and the glint in her eyes was gone – she was almost lifeless. 

“You hungry?” He asks softly, seeing the way she was trying to hold it together. 

After a slow nod, Solo gives her a thumbs-up and quickly disappears from the doorway. The rest of the photoshoot feels like a million years until she’s set free. Gianna gathers her stuff, shuffling through the hallway, bombarded by all the noise the backstage area unfortunately brings. 

“Gianna, baby, you okay?” Naomi calls out where she sits in a makeup chair. 

Gianna stops beside her, holding onto the arm of the chair, “No, I feel like absolute shit.” She holds onto her forehead, trying to steady the spinning room. Naomi holds onto her arm. “I think I just need to sit for a little bit.” 

“You need me to walk you back there?” Naomi’s voice fills with worry. “Or, lemme call Jimmy.” 

“Nah, I’m good girl, I can make it.” 

Solo comes from behind her, seeing the look of concern on Naomi’s face, “Hey, you good?” He’s holding a plate of food from catering. “C’mon, lemme take you back to med.” 

Naomi smiles at her brother-in-law before she meets eyes with Gianna, “text me, ‘kay?” 

With a small hum, Gianna lets Solo lead her back to medical. She can barely remember the walk or anything that Solo says to her. To be truthful, she can’t remember anything from before she blacks out and wakes up hours later in confusion. 

The world feels hazy as she takes a deep breath. The room is dim while the TV screen plays the current match. Gianna groans, realizing she passed out. From beside her, someone chuckles and Gianna groans louder when she knows exactly who it is. 

“Of course, you’re still here,” she smiles softly as she looks over at Solo. “Please tell me I didn’t throw up or say something stupid.”

Solo sighs dramatically, “Now, you want me to lie to you, Gigi?” 

“No!” Gianna’s eyes widen. “Was it bad?” She covers her mouth with a laugh. 

“Doc was givin’ you fluids,” Solo starts and all Gianna can do is cringe. “You threw up over his shoes, said you was sorry, threw up again, then told us how much you love us for takin’ care of you.” 

Gianna shrieks, laughing into her palm as she throws her head back. Solo follows suit in his laughter. 

“You piece of shit, you should’ve kept all that to yourself.” Gianna shakes her head just as the door opens. “Hey, girl.” She greets Naomi who walks in cautiously.

Naomi grins, sashaying up to the bed, “girl I came in here earlier and you was out, dead to the world with this fool watchin’ over you.” She jokes as she takes a seat at the end of the bed. “How you feelin’?” 

“Like a million bucks, apparently all I needed was some water and to empty out my fucking stomach.” Gianna rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Thank Jesus I didn’t have a match tonight or I would’ve killed myself.” 

“Don’t say that, you know I hate that.” Solo rolls his eyes. 

He was the sensitive type, not that he’d ever admit it. It’s what she adored most about him, since they were kids, he was very serious about statements like that and went to great lengths to always be there for Gianna. He never wanted to feel like he wasn’t communicating or was being purposely rude to anyone. Kindness was the biggest thing for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Gianna reaches over to cup his chin. “I didn’t mean that.” 

Naomi watches the pair for a moment, they way Solo instantly melts into a smile at the physical contact. The twinkle in his eyes when he watches her and how he falls into laughter when she says something stupid and it’s about the way he’s always talking in her direction, even when Naomi talks and he responds to her, his eyes always drifts towards Gianna to watch for her reaction. 

This wasn’t new – Naomi and the twins often teased him about it, never in front of Gianna because he begged them to not make her uncomfortable, over the past couple of years but they’ve laid off the teasing because damn… they’ve known each other for years and have never made a move. But something about recently has made Naomi suspicious. Solo couldn’t seem to be away from Gianna for more than a single day. It’s the point that if she calls Gianna and she doesn’t answer, she knows to call Solo cause he’ll be with her. 

“I gotta go get ready, but I’ll be back to get you later.” Solo stands from his chair, playfully throwing a pillow at Gianna as he walks towards the door. “See you Nao.” 

“Bye, brother.” She calls out then turns her attention to Gianna. “Can I ask you something and you won’t be mad at me?” Naomi asks cautiously. 

Gianna scrunches her nose, “and what exactly is this question?” She sits up in the bed. “And why would I be mad?” 

Naomi sighs, “Why haven’t y’all dated?” She asks right out, catching Gianna off guard. “Y’all’ve known each other y’all whole lives.” 

There’s a beat of silence while Gianna thinks about the question. She looks out at the wall. Strangely enough, it’s never been anything she’s sat and thought about. There was always someone she was in a relationship with. This is the first time she’s truly been single and the thought never crept in. 

“I’ve never thought of him that way, honest, you know I broke up with whatshisname last year and we were together for six years. It’s always been purely platonic between me and Solo.” 

For the rest of the night, the thought rings through Gianna’s head. Why hasn’t there been a romantic relationship between her and Solo? Now, she kinda wishes that it never came up because she’s not one that can hold her tongue and unfortunately, he knows her too well and will eventually read her face. 

Gianna has to force the thought to sit in the furthest spot in her brain, it wasn’t something she had the time to worry about, and she’d been a little upset with Naomi for bringing it up. Even weeks later, there’s an air of awkwardness and she’s not sure why it’s there. 

The hallway is empty as Gianna rolls her suitcase. 

“Gianna,” Naomi’s voice calls out from behind her. Gianna stops reluctantly and turns. “G, you mad at me?” 

They both continue their walk towards the locker room. Gianna sighs and shakes her head. 

“No, I’m sorry girl, you know how I get sometimes.” Ginna apologizes, “I got uncomfortable with the thought and haven’t been able to face you.” 

Naomi nods slowly, “I ain’t mean it like that, I was just askin’.”

“I know, it’s dumb, but he’s my best friend and funny enough when we left high school, I think we both left those thoughts in San Francisco. So, for the past thirteen years we’ve gotten into this perfect groove and yeah…” 

When they walk into the locker room, it’s empty and almost eerily silent and it makes Naomi’s next question land in the center of the room like a pin drop. 

“Do you think the reason you reacted like that was because you do like him and have liked him all the years?” 

Gianna sets her bag down and turns to Naomi. She squints her eyes in disbelief. 

“No, I don’t think that’s the case.” She answers bluntly. “And quite frankly, I really want you to leave this alone, Trinity.” 

The atmosphere in the room turns uncomfortably cold as the pair stare at each other – it’s almost a stand down as neither one of them say a word.  Naomi shakes her head, refusing to let the conversation go. Gianna rolls her eyes, retreating from the room before she has to hear anything else about it, but her friend is on her tail. 

“Gianna, be serious.” 

Gianna groans, “No, you be serious and drop it.” She grits through her teeth. Down the hallway, she spots Jimmy and Tama in the middle of a conversation. “Jimmy, Tama.” 

Something or someone has to get Naomi off of her back and she’s hoping that her husband can help as the men turn to look at her. 

“Hey G, what’s up?” Tama smiles, pulling her closer and resting an arm over her shoulder. “Why you look like you about to kill someone.” 

“Cause, I’m ‘bout to kill your wife if she don’t leave me the hell alone.” Gianna points to Jimmy. 

The men glances at each other before they look between either women. “What the hell goin’ on?” Jimmy asks. 

Silence. Naomi raises an eyebrow, waiting for Gianna to say it but she knows she won’t let the words pass her lips. Gianna stares up at the ceiling as she shakes her head, anger not being enough to describe how she feels. Tama shakes her softly, smiling when they make eye contact. 

“Talk to us, baby.” Tama rubs her arm. 

“Jimmy, you’ve know me since we were kids, please.” Gianna begs then turns to Naomi. “And girl, I love you but don’t make me hate you.” 

With that, Gianna shakes out of Tama’s arms and marches down the hallway. There’s nowhere to go, but she refuses to stand with them any longer. That’s the problem of knowing people for so long, there’s no separation in their personal life. All she wants to do is to forget this conversation ever happened and hope that Solo never hears about it, but now Jimmy and Tama knows and soon enough Jey, Tonga, and Jacob will know. None of those men know how to keep a secret if you paid them a million dollars. 

Gianna is lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t hear Solo call her name. He grabs her hand to stop her, scaring her in the process. She snaps her head in his direction, faking a smile when she realizes who it is then gives him and Roman a quick nod. 

“Hey, you two.” Gianna runs her fingers through her hair suddenly very uncomfortable. 

Roman sends Solo a look before poking Gianna’s shoulder, “What’s up with you, G?”

It’s awkward for a moment as she tries to discreetly place some space between her and Solo, “nothin’, I’m just tired and tryna prep for my match tonight.” 

“You ain’t look like this even with your mania match, for real, what’s going on?” Solo questions, closing the space between them. 

Again, like said earlier, Gianna can’t hide a single emotion from Solo. Her face betrays her as if it doesn’t care what her brain says. She musters the best believable, fake smile she can and shakes her head. 

“Y’all I’m good, I promise, can we talk later?”

How long is it appropriate to kinda ignore someone? There’s always been a need to place some distance between Gianna and the amazing Fatu/Anoa’i family before she lost her fucking mind. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure her friendship with Solo would survive – and again, it’s the most important thing to them. She felt awkward and unlike herself. Naomi sort of took the hint to cool off, Gianna wasn’t sure if she came to that conclusion on her own or if Jimmy convinced her, but whatever it was, she was thankful. 

Yet, ignoring people you’re on the same brand with came with making a lot of excuses – tired, training, media, family plans – whatever it was, she used it. Now, Solo wasn’t really accepting any more excuses, she can feel it. But Gianna needs a little more time to not feel so weird about everything. 

After her match, Gianna strolls into catering, trying to figure out if she was actually hungry or if she was just anxious… or maybe she was both? She rubs her temple as she stares at a platter of cookies. 

“You lookin’ for something sweet?” 

Gianna turns to meet eyes with one Tama. She laughs softly with a nod. 

“Yeah, tryna figure out if it’ll be worth cheating on my diet.” She stares at the cookies with a sigh. “If you eat one, I’ll eat two.” Gianna propositions him with a laugh.

Tama thinks about it for a second then shugs, “fuck it, let’s do it.” he laughs as they grab their cookies. “Can I ask you something?”  

“Uh oh, that’s scary.” Gianna jokes as they walk out of catering. “Should I be scared of this question?” 

The taller man lets out a loud laugh that makes her smile, “Nah, you ain’t gotta be scared, baby.” He waits for her to nod before he continues. “Let me take you out?” 

Gianna stops to stare at him, “and why do you wanna take me out?” 

Tama groans at the same question he’s gotten every time he asks her out. Unfortunately for him, Gianna always gave him the same response. He wraps an arm around her shoulder while continuing their walk. 

“You play too much, G,” 

Sunlight pours into Gianna’s living room as she lays sprawled on her couch, eyes transfixed on her TV. She could have said yes to Tama’s date, but her one weekend home in over a month… she needs to spend that at home for her sanity. The comfort of her couch and her puppy makes everything manageable. 

The doorbell ringing doesn’t bother her puppy nor when she slips off the couch to peek into the peephole. Gianna bites her lip when she sees Solo on the other side, hands in pocket, almost expressionless. She shuts her eyes for a moment before she unlocks the door to come face-to-face with the man she’s barely spoken to in weeks. 

“Hey,” Gianna smiles, pushing the door wider for him to come in. “I didn’t know you were comin’ over.” 

Solo smiles then his brows furrow in confusion, “When have we ever called before showin’ up at each other’s house?” He watches her shut the door in silence. “What’s up with you, Gianna?” 

They sit on the couch, Solo pets the puppy he hasn’t seen in a while, giving Gianna the chance to come up with whatever she needed to say. She’s never felt this anxious in her entire life and she wishes this wasn’t happening right now – why couldn’t she act normal about this? She knew what her feelings were and she thinks she knows what Solo’s feelings are, so why does she feel like she could go skydiving without a parachute? 

“Gia,” Solo says. The only person in the world she allows to use that awful nickname. “Talk.” 

“Naomi, a couple of weeks ago, was basically pressurin’ me about you and I’s relationship and why we’ve never dated. She wouldn’t let up on it no matter how many times I told her it wasn’t somethin’ you and I were interested in, and it just made me feel all awkward cause now I’m thinkin’ how many other people have the same idea as her and if maybe you was thinkin’ about us some type of way.” Gianna word vomits the entire sentence in one breath as she watches his reactions. When he doesn’t say anything she sighs. “Are you thinkin’ about us in another type of way, Solo?” 

Solo runs his hand over his beard, “I’ve told them all not to do this shit over and over again, I don’t know why Naomi would do that, but Nah, G. You my best friend and it’s always been that since we was kids and it not gone change now.” He confirms. “I don’t like how you felt like you had to ignore me instead of just comin’ to talk to me about it. 

Gianna swallows. There’s something in the pit of her stomach that doesn’t disappear after his answer, actually, it gets worse and she feels like she’s about to be sick, but sucks it up for the moment, mauling over his most recent statement. 

“I didn’t know how you’d react, and I’m sorry, I just started feelin’ awkward and anxious, so I just took a step back.” She smiles softly. “I know how you are and I should’ve just went to you and told you.” 

Solo finally cracks a smile. He walks up to Gianna, helping her up then envelops her in a bear hug. With their hearts pressed together, Gianna blinks away the sad tears brimming the corner of her eyes. She stares at the door, feeling nothing but… misery? On the opposite end, Solo shuts his eyes tightly with the exact same fucking feelings. 

“Listen, man, you ain’t listen, G.” Tama throws himself back in his seat in anger making her laugh. “Oh, you think this shit is funny?” 

Gianna tries to hold in her laugh, “Tama, I love you, but baby you can’t do no fucking coup de grace.” 

Tama finds himself beyond words in their argument on whether or not he’d be able to steal Finn Balor’s finisher. On a Tuesday night, this was the best they had to do as they sat in the backyard of Jimmy and Naomi’s place, liquor in hand, and no expectations for the next day. Tama sucks his teeth, turning to look at Jey as he walked out on the patio. 

“Man, tell this girl I can do Finn’s shit.” 

Jey looks at the older man then lets out a holler, “Uce, you can’t do no fuckin’ coup de grace.” 

With a shit eating grin, Gianna raises her glass then takes a sip, “I’ve said that for the past hour, thank you, my brother.” 

She sticks her tongue out at him when he places a greeting kiss on her cheek and takes the seat next to her. 

“Mr. Monday Nights, I feel like I never see you anymore.” Gianna sits up, crossing her legs. “How’s it goin’ over there? I been seein’ you and rhea.” 

“Man, we chillin’, I’m just vibin’ with everything right now.” Jey grins. “When you comin’ back to the winnin’ brand?” 

Gianna scoffs playfully, “I’m already on the winning brand, if anything, we might need you back.”

Jey shakes his head with a grin. He loks down at his glass for a moment then meets eyes with Gianna, “I miss travellin’ with y’all, but this is somethin’ good, you know?” He shrugs. “I know you missin’ me.”

“Of course I miss you,” Gianna stands and moves over to sit on his lap. “These dudes get on my last fucking nerve.” 

Tama scoffs, “what I do to you, G?” 

She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Nothin’, Tama, you ain’t do nothin’ to me.” Gianna says sarcastically before tipping the rest of her drink into her mouth. 

“The girl crushin’ on me and doesn’t know how to say it.” Tama mocks with Jey. 

“Oh yeah? So that means she got over her crush on me?” Jey raises his eyebrow.

They turn their attention to her as she slowly brings her glass down with wide eyes. Gianna’s mouth widen with a smile, trying to come up with a quick comeback. 

“Oh, y’all playin’ tonight.” Gianna sputters. 

Tama sucks his teeth, “you a horrible liar, G.” He shakes his head while Jey hums in agreement. 

“And what did I lie about?” She challenges while she stands from Jey’s lap to retake her seat between them. 

“Forget us,” Jey speaks up. “But when you say you don’t like my brother, we can see it on your face.” 

In the silence of the patio, Gianna leans back in her seat. She should’ve known that this conversation would never truly end – it was inevitable. Jey and Tama share looks as they wait for her to say something. Tama scoots his chair closer to hers. 

“Tell me somethin’ G,” Tama starts while Jey watches. “If you don’t like Solo, let me take you out tomorrow?” 

Gianna smiles, “Oh, so you’re not worried about family, you just want me.” She raises an eyebrow. “Is that what this is?” 

Tama chuckles then shrugs. “I mean, I don’t understand how they all known you all this time and haven’t taken you out.” 

With his statement, Gianna turns to Jey and raises an eyebrow. Jey chuckles and runs his hand over his beard. “I don’t know, baby, you like family at this point. We can’t cross that line.” 

“It’s okay, young me wanted you before I knew how annoying you are.” Gianna jokes as she places a hand on his cheek. “It’s all love though.” 

Jey swats her hand away while they laugh. The door to the patio opens and catches their attention.  Solo steps out, coming to join them on the lawn chairs. He sits beside Tama. 

“What’s goin’ on, people?” He greets, clocking the way the guys are  all sitting so close to Gianna. “I can hear y’all laughin’ from inside.” 

“Nothin’ man, I’m tryna get G over here to go out with me tomorrow.” Tama looks into Gianna’s eyes as he says it making her laugh. “But she think I’m playin’ with her.” He jokes.

Thankfully the trio is both distracted and drunk or they would’ve seen the way Solo was burning a hole through Tama after his sentence. The way his grip tightens around his beer could shatter the glass. Solo rolls his head before producing a fake smile just as Gianna looks in his direction. 

“They’re drunk as shit.” She lets out her own drunk giggle. Gianna studies Solo for a second then stands, holding a hand out for him to take. “Can we go talk?” 

After their conversation at her house not too long ago, things went back to normal. But there are still times when Gianna catches him deep in his own thoughts when they’re together. There’s just a slight difference in their relationship now that isn’t noticeable on certain days, but she can see it now, even though her drunken haze. 

It’s quieter at the front of the house, so Gianna and Solo rest on the hood of his car. She messes with the seam of her skirt as they sit in some silence. It’s as if they don’t know what to say to each other and it’s killing them. 

“What are you thinkin’ about, sweet?” Gianna finally asks as she turns her head towards him. 

Solo slowly shakes his head, “I ain’t know Tama had a thing for you.”

“I don’t think that the case, I think he just likes getting under my skin.”

Gianna shrugs. They sit in silence again for a moment then Solo nods. 

“Let him take you out.” 

What? Gianna wasn’t sure she heard what he said correctly. Never in their lives has he ever pushed her towards going out with someone, especially not family. Solo turns to look at her shocked and confused face. For a moment, his eyebrows furrow in confusion at her confused look, but then he nods. 

“That’s not somethin’ you want, G?” Solo asks. “might as well, you know, you been single a while now.”

Gianna opens her mouth and closes it several times, “I don’t understand you, Solo, why would you tell me to go out with him?” Now she’s slightly irritated. “What the fuck?” 

Solo holds his hands up in question, “I’m just sayin’, if you want to you should. Who you waitin’ on? Me? Man, go out with Jey too if you wanna, fuck ‘em if you wanna.” 

That makes Gianna push off the car. She turns to look at him with pure anger, “If I wanted to I would’ve, but again, what I’m tryna understand is what the fuck are you saying to me?” She can’t explain the feelings in her body as she yells at him. “I don’t understand this anymore.” Gianna motions between them. 

“And what is this?” Solo stands up straight. 

“Our friendship?” She scoffs at his question. “You know what, Solo, I’m over this and I’m over you right now.” 

Just as she finishes her statement, Jey and Tama walk out from the backyard. Solo glances in their direction then looks at Gianna. 

“Aye, one of y’all can take Gianna home now.” He says cooly. 

Gianna licks her bottom lip, “Wow, just like that?” 

“You said you done, G.” Solo shrugs without a trace of humor. “So, be done and don’t worry about me.” 

“Fuck you,” She spits, shoving him away from her. The tears hit her cheek before she can realize she even wanted to cry. “Cause I never would’ve said that shit to you in a million years but you think that’s fuckin’ cool to say to me then kick me out? You're a bitch.” 

Gianna wipes her tears as she walks away from him. She stops in front of Jey and he immediately wraps an arm around her shoulders. He sends a confused look to Tama who in turns sends daggers at Solo. 

The ride home is quiet. Jey had the unfortunate task of taking her home as Tama stayed behind, completely plastered. She sits in the passenger seat and stares out the window. It was a horrible way to end the night and she didn’t even understand where the hell it went wrong. All Gianna can think about is how her best friend essentially called her a slut because of a joke that’s been ongoing for the past year. This attitude wasn’t anything she’s ever seen from him before. 

It broke her heart to think that he saw her in that light. She was never that person. He knew that, so why say it even if he was upset at her for whatever reason? 

��What’s goin’ on with y’all?” Jey asks. 

“I don’t know,” Gianna says through shallow breaths. “He basically called me a slut then told me to leave, not much explanation there?” 

Jey glances at her shocked, “Uce said what?” He shakes his head. “I need to talk to him. Why he say that?”

Gianna rubs her temple, “Jey, he said I should sleep with Tama or sleep with you. I wish I fuck knew where he got the idea that I wanted that, but he’s convinced I do.”

By the time they make it to her house, Gianna’s panic attack is soothed. She gathers her heels and purse and looks at Jey. He gives her a sympathetic look then quickly gets out the car to open the door for her. They walk up to her door slowly and he waits as she looks for her keys then unlocks the front door. 

“Thank you for bringin’ me home, and please just leave this whole thing alone. I really do think your brother and I just need some separation for a little while. I think we’ve been in each other’s faces for too many years and it’s just a phase.” 

It was a wish that Solo would come to the conclusion on his own that what he said was wrong. Hopefully the separation would create some clarity for them both. Jey nods in understanding and pulls her into a tight hug. 

“I got you, mama, you know that.” He murmurs into her ears. “And, how about we give him something to be mad about?” She can hear the smirk in his voice. 

Gianna moves back to meet his eyes, “What do you mean by that?”  She searches his eyes then breaks out into the biggest grin he’d ever seen. “Oh my God, are you gonna kiss me? Please tell me you are so I can prepare young me.”   

Jey laughs brightly and nods. Gianna throws her stuff into the house, turns back to him, and watches as he leans into her. He presses the soft kiss on her lip, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer to his body. When they pull apart, Gianna covers her mouth in shock. 

“You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had in this life, thank you for that.” Gianna kisses his cheek. 

“You know I got you, G, goodnight.” 

As he walks back to the car, Gianna stands in her doorway. She laughs to herself at the fact that she got to kiss her first ever crush, even though it wasn’t in the most romantic way. She waves as Jey pulls of and closes the door to the dark house. The kiss was amazing, but it wasn’t something either of them were ever going to pursue, it was a way to make her feel better. 

Why does she feel like shit about the events earlier in the night? She didn’t do anything wrong but here she was wondering if she should text Solo first. 

There are rare instances that Gianna and Solo fought. It was rare. For them to find themselves at odds, it’d have to be serious. Their first ever fight was in elementary school when Gianna decided to sit next to another kid for an entire week. Solo proceeded to throw paper balls at her for the week until she sat next to him again. Then, in middle school, Solo thought it’d be the bright idea to date Gianna’s nemesis. They spent half of their seventh grade year at odds. High school was probably their biggest fight. For years they couldn’t come up with the reason as to why the fight started, but Gianna remembers that she started talking to some guy on the football team whose name she can’t even remember anymore. 

It was her thought that Solo would be okay with it, he knew about it, and didn’t say anything. Her relationship with the guy was fine, until it wasn’t. A rumor started that her and Solo liked each other. It wasn’t true and no matter how many times she explained it to her boyfriend, he just seemed to hear something different. The real kicker came when she found out that Solo was making stuff up and telling other players, who of course shared it to other players until the entire team was talking about it. The fight started when Gianna showed up on his porch. He denied it, even though they both knew he was doing it. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he’d sabotage her relationship. He said it was because he didn’t trust the guy. 

No correlation, he was right, her boyfriend was a piece of shit who was cheating on her, but that wasn’t the point. It took them until the following summer to make up. 

There’ve been several more fights post high school. All of them revolved around her relationships. Either the guy was too nice, too douchey, or just was plain boring. No one ever seemed to be quite right. Yet, everything before paled in comparison to this one. 

No contact is what they’ve been for the past three weeks. He avoids her when they travel, they don’t text, they don’t call. Gianna’s sick and tired of this shitty ass attitude he’s had towards her and refuses to be the one that fixes it. So, she’s letting it run its course, if it ever does. Hopefully it does or it’ll ruin the next few days.

“Hey girlie,” Naomi smiles, wrapping her arm around Gianna as she sets her carry on down.

Gianna scrunches her nose, “Hey baby doll, you look cute.” She scans Naomi’s outfit for the flight. “Your ass is actually insane, bro, how Jimmy handle all that?” 

Naomi laughs as they find a spot to sit, “Girl bye,” she waves her off. “Did you bring your best outfits?” 

“Oh, of course, I plan on being the best dressed.” 

Once a year, for the past ten years, they all take a big vacation to relax. Naomi and Gianna were the ones to convince everyone and it’s become habit. This year, they decided on Puerto Rico because they loved it so much when they all went for Backlash. It was probably one of their easiest ones to pick – usually it’s a big group argument about where to go, and this years they’ve invited three new, annoying people in Tama, Tonga, and Jacob. 

“Where are the brothers?” Gianna quickly glances around. 

“They went to get somethin’ to eat, you know how they are.” She rolls her eyes then clears her throat. “You and lil man talkin’ again?” 

Gianna chuckles at the nickname but shakes her head, “No, I think we just need some more time.” 

And unfortunately, the three hour flight had Solo and Gianna sitting besides each other. They both bought their tickets months ago and it was awkward. Neither of them had the idea to switch seats, but both had their headphones on, acting as if the other wasn’t there. Gianna’s eyes rarely stray from the window out of fear of making eye contact with him. 

Hours flew by from the plane ride, to the awkward waiting for their car, and the hour drive to the rented villa. Gianna wants to run and hide and take the ride with Tama and Tonga and Jacob, but Naomi wasn’t having it, so she found herself squished beside her in the quietest car ride. 

Sunset shines off everyone’s sunglasses when they finally get to the house. Gianna flicks her hair over her shoulder as she grabs her suitcase from the driver with a small smile. 

“G, you sleepin’ with me?” Tama yells out. 

Their car pulls in with him hanging out the window. Gianna laughs as she turns to see them. Tama leaves the guys behind to wrap his arms around her. 

“I can’t share with you,” Gianna laughs against his chest.

Tama raises an eyebrow, “cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself when it comes to me?” 

Gianna pushes him away but he doesn’t move, “no, cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” she smiles, glancing at his hand that’s at the top of her ass. “like right now.” 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you, G.” 

His eyes never leave hers as he talks  and Gianna finds herself, for the first time, completely lost in the thought of his words. She hums softly and looks around at everyone making their way towards the front door. 

“Fine, we can share, but you have to promise to keep your dick in your pants.” She stares up at him. “Unless, I say otherwise.” Her voice dips as a glint sparkles in his eyes. 

The house is absolutely insane. Once everyone claims their rooms: Jimmy and Naomi in one, Gianna and Tama in one, then everyone gets their own with a single room left empty, they meet in the kitchen to eat before getting started. 

“Where’s Roman? I thought he was traveling with you guys?” Naomi points to Tonga. 

Tonga sips his water, “He should be here later tonight.” 

“Who invited you?” Gianna points to Jacob who’s pulling out his cigarettes. 

Jacob throws a wrapper in her direction making her laugh, “Didn’t you ask me, Gigi?” 

Gianna gags at the nickname, “And I think I’m regrettin’ that now.” 

“Oh Gigi,baby, you know you love me.” Jacob comes around the counter, wrapping his arm around her waist. She leans her head away with a groan. “Don’t act like that.” 

Gianna folds under the pressure, giving into a smile and letting Jacob hug her. He’s the biggest teddy bear of the group and she can’t be mad at him for too long, even if she was only pretending.

“Man, y’all let’s eat.” 

 Most of them took a nap after they ate. Gianna sighs into her pillow when she feels Tama’s hand on her hip. She keeps her eyes closed, but slaps his hand away. 

“Tama, stop playin’, I’m tired.” 

Tama groans softly, moving closer to rest his chin on her arm, “I ain’t tired, G.” 

Gianna opens her eyes and looks over at him. She searches his eyes for a while before shifting down to see his shirtless torso and it’s a fight to bring her eyes back to his. 

“You’re a horny fuck, do you know that?” she asks softly, laying on her back. “Why you stressin’ me, Tama, you haven’t let me breathe since we met.” 

They met several years ago at an event. The twins introduced them and it’s been history ever since. He was the biggest flirt she’s ever met and she’s his primary victim. Once he joined the main roster, she hasn’t had a moment of peace. 

“I can't let you pass me by, Gianna.” He leans up on the palm of his hand, hovering over her. “I want you.” 

She shies under his gaze. His usually playful face is more serious than she’s ever seen. Gianna watches the way his other hand slowly moves the duvet from her body. Tama gets on his knees in front of her and pulls her up against him so they’re both kneeled in front of each other. 

“We can’t be together,” Gianna whispers softly, feeling his hand on her back. “You know that.” 

“I know that, G.” 

Yet, the doesn’t stop either of them as their lips come together. Gianna sighs into his lips while Tama wraps his arm around her waist and pull her into his bare chest. The kiss starts to get frantic, neither one of them wants to pull away, it’s like life or death. Tama manuevers them back onto the mattress, but Gianna snaps out of his and pulls away. 

“I need to cool off,” She rolls to the other side of the bed, trying to catch her breath while he lays besides her. “I’m gonna go get some water.” 

Gianna gets to the bottom of the stairs, playing with her hair as she tries to find a light switch in the darkness. She finally turns one on then looks for the glasses to get a drink of water. She’s barely down a sip when she hears a knock on the door. Gianna hesitates for a minute, looking down at the oversized judgment day shirt she was wearing with nothing else. 

She walks over cautiously and peeks towards the glass door but calms when she sees the familiar, friendly face. Gianna cheers as she runs towards the door. 

“Ro, you’re here,” she throws the door open. “How was your flight?”

Roman takes a deep breath as he shuffles in, “exhausting, but hey G.” 

She chuckles, giving him a quick hug, then takes him over to his room that’s on the main floor near Jimmy and Naomi. Roman drops down on the bed with a huff as she stands in the doorway. 

“Excited to not think about work for the next three days?” 

“Very,” He peeks at her. “You upstairs?” 

Gianna nods, “Yeah, i’m sharing with Tama.” 

That catches Roman’s attention and he sits up, “Huh… Why’s that?” 

For a moment she thinks about it, suddenly very cautious and aware that she just made out with him. 

“I dunno, he asked so I said yes.” She speaks slowly. 

“Well, if you need an escape from that fool, you got a space down here.” 

With a smile, Gianna blows him a kiss, “I appreciate that, Ro, I’ll let you shower.” 

Back in the living room, Tonga and Jacob were sitting on the couch in their own conversation. Jacob whistles when he sees her. Gianna rolls her eyes and goes around to sit across from them on the couch. 

“I thought y’all were passed out,” She crosses her legs. 

Jacob groans, “Man, this fool woke me up talkin’ ‘bout it’s time to drink.” 

Gianna laughs and leans her head back against the arm of the couch to stair at the ceiling, “I’m down with Tonga, where’s everyone else?” 

“Jim took Naomi and Solo to the store.”  Tonga says as he watches the way Gianna absentmindedly taps her exposed thigh. “Tama ain’t botherin’ you, is he?” 

“Nah, he’s not botherin’ me.” Gianna meets his eyes. “Not yet at least.” 

For a little while, the trio sit in a meaningless conversation about backstage at Smackdown. Tama joins them not long after, taking a seat beside Gianna, stealing glances at her when she’s talking. Their conversations halts when the door opens and a loud cheer comes from Jimmy. 

“Good, all your asses awake now.” He calls out as she comes into the living room with the bags. 

Gianna gets on her knees on the couch, facing him, “so, what’s in the bags?” She smiles hopefully. 

“You wondering if I got your stuff?” He raises an eyebrow. Jimmy shuffles through the bag before he pulls out a bottle of 1942 Tequila. “You know I got you, sis.” 

With a dramatic sigh, Gianna grabs the bottle and kisses it before she sends Jimmy an air kiss. She peers back to catch a look from Tonga. He smirks and leans in towards Jacob to whisper something to him. Jacob chuckles and peers over at her. 

They don’t look away when she keeps her focus on them. So, Gianna shakes her ass in their direction. Tama whistles and grabs her by the waist, pulling her t-shirt down. 

“Nah, this all me.” He points to Tama and Jacob. 

Solo and Noami come out from the kitchen and she claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. 

“You two, c’mon, y’all been nappin’ too long.” Naomi points to Tonga and Tama. “G, give me the bottle.” She holds out her hand and Gianna sadly gives it back. 

Gianna sighs back into her seat with a pout making Jacob laugh. She turns to look back at Solo then quickly turns around when they make eye contact. Her heart falls and she drops her head down to stare at her legs. Jacob looks up at Solo and widen his eyes then look at her. Solo, thankfully, gets the hint and clears his throat as he comes to sit beside Gianna. 

“Can we go outside and talk, Gia?” 

The nickname makes her look up. She nods slowly and follows him out to the backyard. There’s a pool and they’re overlooking the ocean as they sit on the lounge chairs across from each other.

A silence sits amongst them for a while as Gianna massages her scalp. Solo keeps his eyes on her while trying to come up with the first word to say. She finally looks at him and raises an eyebrow. For all the years they’ve known each other, if he fucked up, Gianna will sit in silence until he apologizes, and she’s good at that. 

“Gianna, I was an ass to you and I’m sorry.” Solo finally talks. “I didn’t mean what I said and I never should’ve said it. You’re my best friend.” 

Gianna swallows hard, “why’d basically call me a slut?” 

Solo shakes his head and looks down in shame, “it’s dumb,” he says lowly. Gianna uses her foot to nudge his to continue. “I felt like you was pullin’ away from me, and then you was getting close with them and I just…” 

“So you were jealous?” She nudges him again. 

“I shouldn’t, cause you can hang with whoever you want, I don’t own you.” He meets her eyes. “I want us to go back to how we were, Gia, I love what we got and how we doin’ it.” 

When he finishes, Gianna rubs her hands together, “I accept your apology, because you’re my best friend, and I know your heart.” She reaches out and grabs his hand. “If you ever imply that i’m a slut ever again, I’ll cut your dick off.” 

They break into a smile then a fit of laughter as they stare at each other. Solo stands and pulls her into his arms in a bear hug. He lifts Gianna off the ground as she shriek, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“I love you, Gia.” Solo sets back on the ground. 

“Love you much more.” She caresses his cheek like the million of times she has before. “I’m happy we’re cool now.” 

She turns first to walk away but feels his hand hold her in place. 

“Also, I said it like an asshole, but really, Tama likes you.” 

Gianna searches his eyes, for what, but she’s not sure what she’s expecting. Her stomach slightly drops but she sports a smile and a nod. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

Solo walks in first, leaving her outside, in the middle of her thoughts. Gianna watches him bounce around the room, obviously a weight off of his shoulder after their conversation. Yet, now she feels a million time heavier. 

Tama peeks his head out the house. He sends a bright smile and steps out to stand with her. Gianna stares into his eyes, making a decision to let go of the one thing that’s been gnawing at her. She steps closer to him and holds onto his arms. Tama knows the look in her eyes and nods silently for a little bit. 

“So, it’s a no for us?” He finally questions. 

Gianna places a hand on his cheek, but then immediately moves it, “the opposite, actually, we can see how this goes.” 

He squeezes her in a hug, but all Gianna can do is stare at Solo from inside the house. When they move eye contact, she holds it until he’s the first to look away. 

Back inside, Gianna stealthily grabs the bottle of 1942 and hurries back into the living room. She jumps onto the couch just as Roman arrives. He glances down at her and chuckles. 

“Who bought you Tequila?” He rests against the arm of the couch. Gianna shrugs, trying to mask her grin. “You know you get crazy off that Tequila, G, what we gettin’ into tonight?” 

Gianna thinks for a moment, “i’m getting fucked up off this 1942, everything’s up.” 

Roman claps his hands on her shoulder, “you do know you get really sentimental when you drunk? Save me a kiss when you go around kissing everyone.” 

A laugh falls from Gianna’s mouth, “you’ll get the first kiss this time, promise.” 

Drunk Gianna is fun Gianna. It’s her and a bottle of Tequila against the world. Instead of going out the first night, it was easier for them all to just eat, drink, and listen to music at the house. Gianna was about five shots deep, pouring Tequila into everyone’s mouth as it got later into the night. 

They pulled the sliding doors all the way open, letting the music waft out poolside. Jimmy and Naomi were in the pool, lips stretched, Jey and Solo were going between the patio and the living room, Gianna sat on Tama’s lap in the living room with Roman and Jacob as they played 2K. 

“G, baby, ain’t it time for your drunk kissin’?” Naomi called out from the pool. 

“Yeah, I'll save yours for later.” Gianna sticks her tongue out. “Ro, you want another shot?” 

“Pour it up,” He responds, his eyes not leaving the screen. 

Gianna gets off Tama’s lap, takes a moment to steady herself then drops down beside Roman. She carefully leans his head back to pour the tequila into his mouth. They lock eyes as she does so. After his mouth is full, Gianna moves the bottle and lets him go, but neither of them look away. 

“I'll come back for you later,” Gianna winks, using her finger to place his attention back onto the tv. 

A sudden yell from the kitchen catches her attention. Gianna makes her way into the kitchen to see Tonga and Solo turn to look at her with their hands behind their backs. She rests against the counter to steady herself then takes a sip from her bottle. 

“And what are y’all up to?” She raises an eyebrow. 

Tonga glances at Solo before he lets out a sigh, “we unfortunately can’t tell you that, G.” A wicked smirk on his lips. 

Gianna cocks her head to the side. She taps her nail on the counter before shrugging her shoulder. “That’s fine, you’ll come crawling to me later.” She winks while turning on her heels. 

As she leaves the kitchen, Gianna smacks herself on her ass. She sighs softly in the living room. She leans over to whisper into Tama’s ear. 

“Wanna go into the pool?” 

Tama looks up, “you ain’t gotta ask me twice.” 

Outside, Gianna finally sheds the oversized shirt she’s been wearing, leaving her in a bra and thong. Naomi whistles at the sight making Gianna blow her a kiss. 

“c’mon, G.” Tama watches as she takes a swig of the 1942 then places the bottle at the edge of the pool. 

After jumping into the pool, splashing the other couple, Gianna pulls Tama further down with her. She wraps her legs around him as they surface. Gianna closes her eyes as he twirls her around in the water. She closes her arms around his neck, pushing their bodies together. 

Without a word, Gianna draws him into a kiss. Tama doesn’t miss a beat, falling into the rhythm. His arms tighten around her. All the noise, mostly coming from the other couple cheering them on, falls into the background as it becomes messier. 

A drunk Gianna finally pulls away with a laugh, floating onto her back. She was too drunk to even process anything more than Naomi pulling her arm towards her. 

“G, girl, I need to party like you.” Naomi laughs. 

“Babe, my bottle of 1942 is off limits, sorry!” She shouts, swimming up towards the edge to grab the bottle. Gianna pours more Tequila into her mouth before stumbling out of the pool. “where’s everyone?” 

She stumbles lightly into the living room. Gianna scans the room, only seeing Roman on the ground. She whistles to catch his attention. 

“You comin’ in?” Gianna asks but he shakes his head. She walks over to him and drops down next to him. “More ‘42?” 

Roman takes the bottle out of her hand and pours some of the liquor into his mouth, “you drippin’ water everywhere.” His voice is dark as he stares at her bare legs. 

“Then grab me a towel.” She raises an eyebrow. 

He gets up, pulling her alongside him into his room. Gianna sets her bottle on the dresser and runs her fingers through her wet hair, mentally cursing at the fact she’ll have to wash it later. Roman comes out of the bathroom with a towel, pausing to watch her. 

Gianna meets him where he stands. She slides the towel out of his hand and wipes down her body. When all the water is dry, she tosses the towel on the ground and then turns her attention to Roman who's still silent. She steps closer to him, messing with the hem of his shirt. 

“You got me alone, in the dark, you not gonna take advantage of this moment?” Gianna murmurs when they gaze into each other's eyes. “Cause i’m waitin’ on you.”

Roman chuckles, “You don’t need no more tequila.” 

She shrugs at the comment. Yet, even with that, he doesn’t move an inch, but instead, continues to watch her actions. Gianna gets on her tiptoes slowly, hands on his chest to keep herself steady. She doesn’t say anything, only stares into his eyes, until his eyes drift down onto her lips. Roman finally captures her lips with his, making her lose her breath. 

In the pitch-black darkness of the room, Roman pins Gianna against the wall with his hands cupping her face. It catches her off guard at first, the sheer hunger in the kiss, the neediness, was unlike anything else — this is a new question she needs answered. Roman hikes her legs up around his waist, one hand firmly on her ass to keep her up. 

“This what you wanted, G?” He growls in her ear, getting a moan in response. “I been watchin’ you with Tama all night, now you wanna be in my bed?” Roman continues, peppering kisses down her neck, sucking on a sensitive spot. 

Gianna arches her back against the wall, “And so what? is that a problem for you?” she hits back, knowing there’d be a hickey in that spot he was still sucking on. “Are you tryna mark me?” 

“I don’t need to mark you, baby, I can make you mine without all that.” 

His mouth moves up to her lips again, taking her into a breathless kiss, “You’re so fucking cocky,” Gianna says in a breath before his lips is back on hers. 

Breathing is harder every time Roman pulls away. Gianna’s head spins, but she’s never one to tap out. Her fingers slowly massage her raw and swollen lips while making note of how long he’s been holding her up. Roman swipes her fingers away to look at his handiwork, making her nervous under his strong gaze. He finally breaks a small smirk. 

“Where you sleepin’ tonight?” He questions, but Gianna can tell it wasn’t a question. 

“I actually have no plans on goin’ back out there.” She murmurs when being placed on her feet. 

Roman nods. Gianna grabs the bottle of 1942 and sits on the edge of the bed. She downs the last of it and lays back on the bed. All she can do is let out a soft laugh when one random thought pops into her head: maybe she is a slut. But, honestly, who gives a fuck?

Life is more fun when you don’t give a fuck. 

Gianna sits up slowly, “Are you just gonna sit there or should I go find someone else?” 

“That’s a threat, G, you wanna threaten me?” Roman stalks up towards her. Gianna eyes the boner he has under his joggers then shrugs. “What you lookin’ at?” He smirks. 

Feeling his soft touch on her skin, Gianna flips onto her stomach and looks back at him, “Please?” She rests her head on the mattress. 

How could he say no when she asks so nicely. Roman trains his eyes on her as he drops his jogger, chuckling at her reaction. His hands slide up her legs before massaging her ass. Gianna's eyes flutter shut, even when he helps drop her up on her knees. His rough hands were weirdly soothing to her. 

“Gianna, look at me,” His voice rough. 

When she opens her eyes, a gasp escapes her lips as he pushes into her slowly. With her thong to the side, Gianna can feel every inch of him pressing into her. She clutches the bed sheets not finding enough air in her lungs. 

“Fuck,” Gianna moans into the bed, feeling his hand on her stomach. “Roman, please.” She pleads at his achingly slow pace. 

“I got you baby,” 

With one swift buck of his hip, Roman fully pushes into her then pulls out, repeating those steps until there were tears of pleasure streaming down the side of her face. Gianna’s moans were breathy at his erratic movements. 

Roman grunts softly, “talk to me, G, how you feelin’?” He leans to whisper in her ears. 

“Just keep goin’, please, I need it.” Gianna begs, unable to think of anything beside the sensation pulsing through her body. “I need it.” She muffles a loud moan into the mattress. 

Her legs, now shaking, couldn’t hold her up anymore. She was shaking so bad. Roman pulls out, chuckling at her groan, to turn her onto her stomach. He waits as Gianna pulls her thong off and throws it across the room. Roman pulls her towards the edge of the bed and plunges into her. Gianna’s back arches off the bed, wraps her legs around him, unwavering in their eye contact. 

Ecstasy would be the only word to describe what’s pulsating through her body. She finds Roman’s arm, digging her fingernails into his skin to find some form of tension. Gianna’s eyes roll to the back of her head, a loud moan reverberating through the room as she came down from the high. She was barely breathing when he pulled out of her, cumming on her stomach.

There were no other words when Roman collapsed beside her. Gianna rolls towards him, resting her head on his chest. Before a minute passed, they were knocked out. 

The sun in the room blinds Gianna when she finally opens her eyes. She moans softly, sitting up, but freezes in realization that she’s not in her own room. Beside her, Roman stirs. 

“Oh, shit.” Gianna covers her mouth, glancing around to see her bra and thong alongside Roman’s clothes. “Oh… shit…” 

Roman grunts as he opens his eyes. When he looks in her direction, his eyes widen. Gianna runs her hands through her hair not knowing how to start this conversation. That, and the fact, that she can’t get out of bed because she’s naked. 

“G, baby, did we…” Roman sits up as she nods. “Oh, shit.”

Before anything else is said, Gianna bursts into a fit of laughter. She shakes her head at the scenario in front of them. Roman finally cracks a smile, running his hand down his face. 

“Okay, I’m gonna get up and leave before anyone sees us.” Gianna slides out of the bed, finding her bra and Roman’s shirt. She turns to look at him before quietly exiting the room.

The living room, thankfully, is empty, but Jacob and Jey are passed out on the couch. Gianna tiptoes to the kitchen and starts the coffee. Anything can help with this hangover. When it is ready, she takes her coffee out by the pool. Her feet dangle as she thinks of the mess she’s put herself in now. 

“There you are,” Naomi walks out in her bikini, taking a seat beside the younger woman. “You went missing last night.” 

“I passed out in Roman’s bed, bless his heart.” Gianna smiles. “I need to lay off the Tequila sometimes.” 

Naomi laughs, “Girl, I don’t think anyone here, beside me, can remember anything from last night.” She says then clears her throat. “So, how are things with you and Solo?” 

Gianna sips her coffee slowly, “We’re good. He apologized and told me to get with Tama.” 

“That’s good,” 

For a long moment, neither one of them says anything. Gianna can only think about how she woke up in Roman’s bed. There’s no one she can confide in — as much as she loves Naomi, the information will eventually find itself being shared with Jimmy and it’ll make the rounds from there. She runs the risk of Solo and Tama finding out and that’s the last thing she wants. 

“I’m gonna go shower the Tequila smell off of me, be back and we can swim?” Gianna starts to get up. 

“I’ll be right here, G, I’ll save you a mimosa.” 

Gianna winks as she enters the living room. Jey stirs on the couch, groaning loudly. She leans against the arm of the couch for a second. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty, coffee?” 

Jey nods with his lopsided smile. “You’re my savior, G.” He scans her outfit then chuckles. “You don’t own pants?” 

“Nope, but you can just say that my half naked body makes you horny.” She teases when he grabs the mug from her. 

“Oh, that’s what you wanna hear?” 

Gianna shrugs, lightly yawning with a stretch, purposely raising the shirt to give a glimpse of her ass. “Who knows, but you staring at my ass tells me more than anything else.” She winks. 

“You play dirty,” Jey groans softly, leaning his head back. 

“It’s the only way to play, Jey.”

Upstairs was quiet. Gianna found Tama asleep on bed, body horizontal. She slips into the shower and sighs under the warm water. Lost in her own thoughts, Gianna leans against the cool tiles, letting the water cascade down her body. 

There are rarely moments that make Gianna stop and think. She’s always been the wild child, that’s what people love about her, the willingness to throw caution to the wind, party until the sun rises and not remember what happened the night before. 

In her last relationship, she took precautions — too many precautions because her ex didn’t appreciate the wildness she brought along. Now, she’s not understanding why she’s acting out. Sleeping with Roman was never part of her plans, if anything, it almost concerns her. Yes, he’s the most attractive human on the planet, but it was never something she thought of. 

The person she wants, she’s now realizing, doesn’t want her. Gianna is in love with her best friend, but he’s not in love with her. How was she supposed to deal with that? 

Gianna doesn’t do well with unrequited love, it makes her crazy. It makes her act erratically. It’ll literally drive her insane. 

“G, baby, that’s you?” Tama’s hoarse voice slices through the room. He opens the fogged shower door in nothing. “You doin’ okay?” 

She looks at him for a moment then pulls him into the shower. Tama licks his lips as she presses him against the wall. Gianna runs his chest softly and slowly moves down until her hands wrap around his dick. 

No, she’s not doing okay. But, when life gives you lemons: fuck. 

one of my most hectic pieces of work. thanks for ignoring all my grammatical errors... i literally went to school for writing

but until next time... or until part two x

[pauleentology]

Ben Clark's trauma🩷

His mischaracterization is literally crazy bro especially on those Wattpad fanfictions I cannot bring myself to finish any of them because they all portray ben as the big quiet dude😖 he is so much more than that oms

Trauma analysis

in my honest opinion, Ben had the worst backstory ever of all of them like it was literally so brutal and for WHATTTTTT (jk red knows how much i like traumatized teenagers)

Imagine being judged by your appearance and not being able to make much friends because of being too "intimidating" just because of your size, and being judged for how you express yourself because it isn't what others expected of you to do, then ultimately being bullied for it just because your appearance didn't match your personality.

Imagine being feared by everyone and persistently being offered by bully-groups and punks to join them because all they see in you is a weapon and not a human being all because your size isn't that of your age?? Finally building up the courage to show everybody that you're more than just the dangerous giant they see you as and actually perform, but they choose not to listen to your voice and focus on why somebody of your size is singing instead of fighting and slacking because they're just that shallow.

Then at 12 years old having that one thing you love most taken from you because you refused to become something you're not, losing your way of expression, spiraling into depression not long after.

The moment he wakes up in the hospital, trying to speak or say anything but all that comes out is broken words and strained breaths. How disgusted he must've been after hearing his shattered voice for the first time— that his greatest treasure just slipped away from him like that, and the thought that he would never be able to sing again slowly settling in.

Being so blinded by rage and having that much anger inside of you that you just give up on controlling it and let it all out in forms of street fighting and brawling, becoming so numb and addicted to the sensation that you can't bring yourself to stop no matter how much you want to.

Coming home from school to see his house set in flames from spite of a fight HE started. Seeing his parents and little sister grieving over the loss of their home— all because of him and his rage.

The realization creeping in that you've become the one thing that you swore to never be. That all the pain and beatings you endured, all in vain because you gave in anyway. You gave in on your own volition. The hate he must've felt towards himself because he was the cause of their pain. Seeing himself as a monster. Realizing how much people he'd hurt because of his lack of self-control and rage.

The day his parents broke to him the news that he'd be staying at his cousin's house for the time being, thinking that they didn't want him around anymore. Him thinking that he was so dangerous his own parents had to ship him off someplace else. He'd hurt everyone around him, and it took so much for him to realize it. He'd look at himself in the mirror— and instead of seeing the innocent little boy what he saw instead was a rage-filled monster everyone feared but this time for good reason. How he'd lost himself completely, and there's nothing he can do to undo everything that happened.

How scared he must've felt that he might hurt Aiden's family too like he hurt everybody around him, and how much he hated himself for not being able to control it.

Finding comfort and belonging with Aiden again for the first time in forever— a newfound peace and purpose after picking up multiple hobbies and a new kind of happiness after meeting the SBG group. Buttttt at the cost of having to brush with death every single night and watch two of his friends die— imagine how he felt when they were talking about how they could be becoming phantoms, how it would all happen again. The feeling of becoming the one thing you sought to destroy and having no control over it was all too familiar to him. The fear he must've felt realizing that everything from his past would repeat itself this way, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Nobody ever talks about his reaction during Aiden's death. Watching his cousin and bestfriend get crushed by a ceiling right in front of him and not being able to do anything since he was still covering Tyler. The cousin that took you into their home, understood you, stayed with you, and saw you as a normal human being rather than a dangerous giant. The person that was able to finally make you feel what it felt to belong for the first time in your life— and watching that person die infront of you. And he just had to stay there— he couldn't do anything to save him. After all, he never could.

The constant reminder that he had no control over anything in his life.

[brucewaynehater101]

I'm so glad you like it and I love all your feed back. Tim would 100% have plenty of trauma that he just. Is *refusing* to address due to starting that identity when he was likely still a teen. Tim having the identity if Jane Doe is also 100% going to help him with coming to terms with all the shifty stuff his family did.

As for Jason, I think he would see Jane refusing to be near him as Jane being skittish, likely due to the many guns he is visibly wearing. He knows he has a reputation as a protector, but he also knows that part of that reputation is that people do fear him. He'll just. Need to give Jane time to relax around him, yeah?

Though I do have a version that ends much worse for everyone. The Bats aren't the first to find out who Jane Doe is. No, Tim makes a mistake. To calm down someone he's friends with after they almost got mugged and he saved them as Red Robin, without thinking he made a joke referencing an inside joke which made the two ladies laugh. Only one problem. Only they and Jane Doe understand that joke because no one else was there. It was just those three. Meaning Jane Doe is Red Robin. Which would logically put N as Nightwing, H as (Red) Hood, and R as Robin with B as Batman.

This also means these two now "know" how the Bats treat Red Robin and they spread word *fast*. Within a week all the Sex Workers who were worried about Jane know and help Jane sneak away whenever they know a Bat is going to be coming by. This also means that almost over night all of the Sex Workers, Bar Owners, and most of the homeless (at least the ones in Jane's area who know him) are refusing to work with any Bats but Red Robin.

They are full on *scared* of Robin because they know he carries a sword, they know he uses it on criminals, and if he's willing to use that sword to nearly kill his own older brother multiple times? Whats stopping him from hurting them if he thinks they're up to something? Batman? The guy who they now believe either used to or still does beat up his own kids? No, they saw what happened before Tim became Robin they *remember*. The ones who flirted with Nightwing are suddenly shunning him or full on sneering at him. They believe he stole his own younger brother's first time (Tim only said N stole something precious that he could never give back and that it hurt very badly. He meant Robin but he couldn't tell them it was Robin) after tricking his younger brother into falling in love with him (Tim told them that Dick was the first person to make him feel truly loved and adored, because this is 100% bad parents Jack and Janet who told him "do whatever it takes to succeed")

There is so much miscommunication in this AU. It's funny and devastating at the same time.

Them finding out before the Bats reminds me of the fics that explore the street kids finding out that Red Hood beat up Robin (a child) even though he promised to never harm kids and to protect them. This causes them to instantly distrust him, and Red Hood is never able to earn their trust again.

I imagine that the sex workers would probably react similarly to Red Hood. Instead of being greeted warmly, suddenly everyone is treating im with caution. That's so much fucking angst for Jason (especially if he finds comfort/support from sex workers due to them helping him when he was homeless).

Also, there might be a time when the sex workers are mad at Red Robin (and some probably stay mad). They see taking a persona of a sex worker as insulting and making light of their situation. Some of them would never do that work if they had choices, which RR obviously has.

Then they start to logic how old he was when he started (he was doing this when he was Robin), how he is actually still selling himself because he performs the work, and that he probably does view it as a necessity. I wonder if there's any misconceptions that Batman knew/knows about RR's activities and whether they would compare that to pimps.

But yeah. They would become almost hostile to all Bats and RH.

[achilles-rage]

Worth It

summary: you borrow your friends boat for the day, wanting to share with eddie how much you love days like these. all is well until the wind picks up and makes the waves large and dangerous. as he gets out of the water, he slips, and you have to perform cpr on him.

word count: 3.2k

request: Eddie and Y/n are having a nice day on their boat but the water is a little choppy. When a big wave comes Eddie stumbles and falls in the water but has a hard time resurfacing. Y/n dives in after him and rescues but has to give him CPR and saves him.

A/N: i firmly believe eddie is the type to live 3 seconds from the beach and never actually go in the water. i’m posting this as i’m about to go to the beach. wish my luck! enjoy<3

TW: eddie almost drowns (lolz), no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Got the snacks?” you ask Eddie as he’s about to walk out the door. He has a large cooler in one hand and a beach bag over each shoulder. He sighs as he stops in his tracks, nodding as he turns back to you..

“Yep.” he tells you sweetly, although a hint of annoyance is making his way into his voice.

“Sunscreen?” He nods again.

“Extra water?”

“Yes.”

“Towels?”

“Mi amor, we have everything. We’ve already been through the list.” he tells you, holding his empty hand out for you to take.

“I’m just making sure.” you say with a sigh, taking a step and grabbing his hand, letting him lead you out the door.

It’s a beautiful sunny day in LA, and your friend mentioned a few days ago that she had inherited a boat from an old relative in her family, and anytime you wanted to use it, you were more than welcome. You decided to take advantage of it, knowing that in all the years Eddie has lived in LA, the only time he goes to the beach is to watch Christopher from the shore. 

He was a little weary about it, not being completely used to being in a boat in the ocean, but he agreed when he imagined the sight of you in your swimsuit. He knows he made the right choice when you walk out in your slightly see-through cover up, your bikini just barely visible. He drinks in the sight of the way your tits sit in your top, and the way he can see the outline of your soft tummy through the cover up, and the way your thick thighs peek out from under it.

He was a little annoyed when you doubled, and then triple checked you had everything, but he feels the excitement grow as you both make your way to his truck.

The drive to the marina is relatively short, and you take in the clear blue sky and the gentle warm breeze filtering in through the rolled down windows, enveloping you. You can feel Eddie’s warm hand placed firmly on your thigh, his thumb rubbing absent-minded circles on your inner thigh as he drives, and you sigh happily. You’ve always loved days on the boat, and you can’t wait to share the feeling with Eddie. You wish Christopher was here with you, but you’re also excited to have some one on one time with your boyfriend.

You get out of the truck quickly once Eddie pulls into the parking lot. Eddie takes the bags and starts to walk to the dock, ignoring you as you try to take a bag. You shake your head, fighting back a smile at his refusal, but it also makes your heart swell. When he’s around, you never have to lift a finger, which is something you had to get used to. Now that you’re used to it, though, you try to do more things for him to make his life easier; cleaning up around his house, cooking him dinners, packing Christopher’s lunches in the mornings. 

Once you get onto the boat, you both work to untie the ropes, and then you’re off. He wanted to drive, but you’re so excited that you won’t let him, insisting that you want to do it. He backs up with his hands raised in surrender, letting out a soft chuckle as he picks up on your eagerness. 

You make your way out into the ocean, giggling as Eddie yells at you to slow down a little. You keep up the speed, knowing he’s only joking; you’re not going that fast, you’re just excited. After a while of speeding around and driving the boat over some other boat’s wakes, you finally slow down to a stop a good distance from the shore. 

“We need sunscreen.” you tell him as you stand up. You pull your cover up off your body and then rummage through the beach bag to find the sunscreen, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

His eyes roam up and down your soft figure, feeling his dick twitch as you bend over to grab the sunscreen. If he thought the sight of you in your cover up was good, this sight is perfect. Without your cover up, most of your skin is completely exposed to him, and he takes this chance while you’re distracted to memorize your dips and curves, and your stretch marks, and the way your skin glistens with a mixture of sweat and miniscule ocean water droplets.

“I don’t need any. I don’t burn.” he tells you with a smirk once you stand back up. You scoff and roll your eyes, taking a few more steps until you’re right in front of him.

“And I guess you don’t get skin cancer either, huh?” you reply sternly, but with a hint of teasing in your voice. You gesture for him to put his arms out, and he obliges with a sigh, holding his breath as you spray his arms and chest. His eyes are locked on you as you begin to rub the sunscreen in, letting out a groan as you bite your lip in concentration.

As you spread the sunscreen over his chest with your hands, you can’t help the wave of desire rushing through you. You’ve always loved his chest, and with the way the sun is hitting it, illuminating his freckles and chest hair, it’s hard not to give in to your inappropriate desires.

Once you’re done you tell him to turn around, and then you spray his back and shoulders. You rub this sunscreen in as well, more or less giving him a shoulder massage as your hands trail across his skin. He lets out a groan as you do, because your hands feel good on his shoulders, but also because he can’t help but imagine something else you could be doing with your hands at the moment, your bikini not helping his wandering thoughts.

He takes the sunscreen from your hand after you’re done and sprays your front, licking his lips as he sees your chest move with your breathing. He rubs it in with his hands, starting on your arms before making his way to your chest. As his hands get closer to your breasts, you can’t help but let out a shaky breath as your eyes follow his movements. As he continues, his fingers move under your bikini top just slightly, making you giggle, as he’s now more or less massaging your tits.

“I don’t think this is necessary.” you tease him softly, looking back up at his face. His eyes move back up to meet yours, the smirk on his face growing.

“Can never be too careful, mi amor.” he murmurs, then moves down to your plush tummy, hands moving across your stretch marks. He smirks as his eyes follow his hands, mapping and memorizing every part of your body that he can.

You bite the inside of your cheek as his hands run over you. There’s a small voice in your head telling you that you shouldn’t let him see your curves, let alone touch them, but his touch is so tender and loving that you can’t bring yourself to care. You know that Eddie loves all of you, and at this moment, it feels like he’s putting all of his love into his soft touches.

Once he’s done, you turn around, letting him get your back. He rubs the sunscreen in again, moving down your shoulders to your back, taking his time as his hands roam over your curves. After he finishes, he leans in and kisses your neck softly, then gives your ass a firm smack.

You squeal in surprise, turning around to face him. Before you can speak, his lips are on yours, and his hands are pulling you into him by the hips.

You hum softly as he kisses you, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck. You step forward, making him step back until his legs hit the bench seat on the boat. You’re quick to push him to sit, then you straddle his lap, your hips immediately moving against his. He groans as he feels your clothed core against his hardening length, and his hands stay firmly on your hips to help guide your movements. 

Your hands are on his face, but soon they’re trailing down his chest to his swim trunks, starting to fiddle with the string. His hips buck as he feels your hands ghosting over him, but as you’re about to move your hand under his waistband, a large gust of wind takes you out of your thoughts. 

Your hands still as you look up at the sky, then your gaze trails down to the waves surrounding the boat. You squeal as you jump off his lap, which makes him groan in annoyance, but he lets you pull him up anyway.

“We have to go in the water. The wavy days are the best days to swim.” you tell him with a wide grin, making your way over to the swim platform on the back of the boat. He tries to calm down as he makes his way over to you, his shorts still tight, his hard length rubbing against the fabric tantalizingly.

He chuckles as you jump in, shaking his head as you resurface with a large smile, urging him to come in. He gets to the swim platform and inhales a large breath as he raises his arms over his head right before he dives in, making you laugh at his dramatics.

Once he resurfaces, you swim over to him, wrapping your legs around his waist once he’s beside the ladder and has a hand firmly wrapped around it. His other hand moves to the back of one of your thighs, squeezing it softly as he holds you against him. You wrap one arm around his neck and hold the ladder with your other hand, not wanting him to have to tread water with your added weight, even though his grip on the ladder means he barely has to tread water at all. 

He takes in your features as you wrap yourself around him. Your lashes resting on your cheeks, small drops of water clinging to them, your lips parted slightly as you breathe, the sunscreen you picked making your skin glimmer in the sun. You were very excited when you found sunscreen with glitter in it, and although he was a little embarrassed to be wearing it, he loved the way it looked on your skin.

As you float in the water, the wind picks up more and more, until the waves are basically coming up and over your heads. You giggle as you try to keep yourself above the water, eyes scanning the waves around you. When you turn back to face Eddie, you see that he can barely keep his head above the water; him being slightly lower than you are with your legs around his waist.

“We should get out before these waves get any bigger.” you tell him softly, and he nods in agreement. You unwrap your legs from his waist, and he moves his hand from the back of your thigh to the small of your back, urging you to go up the ladder first. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t staring at your ass the whole time, but as the waves get larger, he pushes his impure thoughts to the side and pulls himself onto the boat.

As both of his feet land on the swim platform, a large wave hits the side of the boat, making it rock more than it has been. Still being wet, his foot slips, making him tumble back into the water. You turn as you hear the noise escape his throat and the splash, having already been drying yourself off with a towel, feeling the harsh wind stealing all the warmth from your body.

You laugh softly, but your smile fades as it takes him a little longer than expected to resurface. Your towel drops to the floor as you make your way to the platform, letting out a shaky breath as he finally comes back up. Your relief only lasts for a moment, however, as his head disappears under the water again, and all you can see is his hands flailing slightly above the water.

He was surprised when he slipped, and he didn’t have time to think before he inhaled a large breath as he hit the water. He feels his lungs tightening as he tries to resurface, but the water had went down the wrong way when he inhaled, and he can’t stop coughing as he’s still under the water.

You dive in, swimming over to him and grabbing him under the arms, heart dropping as you feel his body go limp as he passes out. You struggle to keep his head above the water as you bring him to the ladder, but you eventually get there, your legs already burning as you fight the waves. You loop his arm through a rung on the ladder to keep him in place, and jump onto the swim platform, then grab under his arms again and hoist him onto the swim platform. You don’t even think about how the hell you just did that, your adrenaline working in overdrive and allowing you to do something you think you’d never be able to do in a regular circumstance.

You start to give him CPR, chest heaving as you work. The seconds feel much longer as you keep working, watching him intently, hoping that he’ll wake up. You push down on his chest hard, keeping the required rhythm. Tears forming in your ears as he still lays motionless in front of you.

“Come on, my love.” You bring your mouth to his, giving him two short breaths, your tears falling onto his face as you move. You repeat your steps, mumbling soft pleas as you work, until finally, he lets in a big breath. 

His eyes shoot open, and then he starts to cough loudly, water falling from his lips. You push him onto his side quickly, rubbing his back as he continues to cough. You know that once he’s coughing, there’s nothing much you can do but wait. 

Once most of the water is out of his system, he sits up slowly, a groan falling from his lips. You’re torn. While you know you should give him some space, you want more than anything to hold him close to you.

After a few moments, when his breathing has slowed down a little, he looks up at you. He takes in your tear stained cheeks and your nervous expression, and he grabs your hand, silently pulling you towards him gently.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t wake up.” you get out through sobs, your tears flowing freely as you wrap your arms around his neck gently, the gravity of the situation suddenly hitting you all at once. He shushes you quietly, placing his hand on the back of your head. “It’s okay, mi amor. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” You sniffle softly at his words, letting out a short laugh as you pull away.

“I should be comforting you.” you mumble, laughing softly as you look at him, still kneeling beside him.

He smiles softly and leans in to give you a tender kiss, a hand resting on your cheek. You pull back after a moment and stand up, offering him your hand to help him up.

“We should get back to land before the waves get any worse.” you joke softly, but there’s a hint of seriousness in your voice. Right now, you want to get as far away from the ocean as possible. He agrees and stands up, taking a seat on the bench seat as you start up the engine and make your way back to the marina. 

The water is much calmer once you’re back in the marina, and you easily tie up the boat again, not letting him do a thing. You grab all the bags and the cooler and start to make your way to his truck, ignoring his insistence that his arms still work. You get in the driver’s seat of his truck once the bags are in the back, wanting him to rest on the way back to his house.

“I’m never going near the ocean again.” you mumble after a few minutes, reliving the moment over and over again. Your brain is racing with all the things that could’ve happened, but his hand reaching over to rest on your thigh helps slow it down slightly.

“Honey, I’m fine. We’re both trained in CPR, which I wasn’t aware of. Where did you learn that, by the way?” His eyes are focused on you, frowning at your expression. He can tell your brain is running on overdrive, and he really doesn’t want you to worry about him. He knows it’s not necessarily his fault, but he also feels a little bad; all you wanted to do was show him a good day on the boat.

“High school. It was part of a class.” you reply, glancing over at him as you try to stay focused on the road. Your hands are still shaking slightly, and for a second you’re not sure if you should be driving, but the option of him driving isn’t one you’re willing to allow.

“Well, I’m glad for that. But, we’re not staying away from the ocean. Actually, I think we should go out next weekend too. If your friend will let us.” He remembers when Christopher was scared of the ocean after the tsunami, and he knows that it’ll be better for you to not avoid the beach.

“You’re that eager to get back out there?” you ask, your brows furrowed as you keep your eyes on the road. You can’t imagine why he’s saying what he’s saying. If it were you, you’re not sure if you’d ever want to see water again, let alone go in it.

“I like seeing you in a bikini, mi amor. I’d say the view is worth dying for.” He purrs, squeezing your thigh softly. You feel your cheeks heat up as you try to fight back a smile, but as you look at him out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help the smile that erupts on your face.

“I love you.” you speak after a few moments of silence, turning to look at him as you stop at a stop sign down the street from his house.“I love you.” he replies, meeting your gaze. And he really means it. He loves everything about you, and seeing you in a bikini was definitely worth everything that happened today.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[sunlightmurdock]

this is your psa to just be a kind person and respect other people tysm

okay so after being subposted about a lot, I just wanted to clear some things up on my end because this was not random and I literally refuse to be made the villain here.

About a month ago, I was sent an anon about some similarities between my fic Blow by Blow and another creator’s series of drabbles. I messaged this creator calmly and we had a really nice conversation where we both agreed that lines get blurred sometimes and it’s easy to forget if you were potentially inspired by another fic you had read a while ago.

So, they had read Blow by Blow and still followed me at this point. But, they acknowledged the similarities and apologised. I was more than happy to continue with my life bc who cares.

Then, I received another anon about the same creator but about similarities between another of their series of drabbles and my fic Trouble in Paradise. I took a look for myself, and it was astounding. Upset, I blocked them. After a really upsetting day yesterday, I published that anon. I have since taken it down because exposing their name didn’t feel like the right thing to do at that point…

But, after they made a series of subposts last night claiming to have never heard of me or read any of my works, I’ve had enough to be honest. I have screenshots of this person in the likes of that fic. Even if they haven’t read the whole thing, they posted two chapters to their drabble Masterlist that were strikingly similar to chapter 1 of Trouble in Paradise, which they have liked and read. One of those chapters has since been deleted (I can only imagine why).

I reached out to them this morning explaining the situation and giving them an opportunity to talk to me, but they decided to block me instead, so here are:

similarities from the not stolen fic from a creator who has never heard of me or this work, theirs highlighted in purple while the original work (mine) is highlighted in pink. If you’ve read trouble in paradise, you may also spot some more underlying similarities. sorry in advance for the long post 🙄

so the premise of their drabble plays out exactly like the second half of Trouble in Paradise 0.1. reader is wearing the exact same thing. male mc is a stranger to the island, who on his first day has found someone exciting, happy and much younger. description of the bedroom is also looking eerily similar… they are both bartenders, who after a shift drive the male mc back to their place.

So in this realm, we can see that the dialogue is not only the exact same but once again, the reader is wearing the exact same thing and performing the same actions.

and here we have their Drabble ending the exact same way my chapter does, with the dialogue being nearly word for word the same.

I am not claiming to own the silly girl on an island trope, but after specifically speaking to this creator before about another one of my fics which had wayyyy too many similarities of theirs to be a coincidence, and them apologising, I thought we were beyond this. This creator then claimed to have never heard of me or my work.

I have screenshots of them in the likes of this fic, I know that they read at least the beginning, which is where the similarities start and end as far as I’m aware. Up until I blocked them, they had followed me for 11 months. This is the second time I have had an issue with them, after handling the first privately.

It’s really upsetting 1. not only to have had the premise of my stories rewritten by someone else but 2. for them to pretend that they have never heard of me when we have had conversations, and when I have screenshots of them interacting with my fics.

@devinedoll not really cool

[yogurtkags]

❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

— 02. sweet nothing

“they said the end is comin', everyone’s up to somethin', i find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings. outside, they’re push and shovin', you're in the kitchen hummin', all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'”

series masterlist | prev | next

“join us for a jam sesh later? we can show them the song, rest of the boys are going to be there.” the end of that sentence is laced with a tinge of bitterness, and eita likes to think that it’s hidden behind a forced cough and a minuscule amount of cellphone static.

he wants to show off what you’ve been working on because he’s proud, he always is, but as much as he refuses to admit it, he wants you all to himself just as it’s always been since the beginning. if inviting you over to band practice (“we’re not a band, we just play together sometimes and perform my songs at gigs”) with the guys is what it takes to see you, or hell, even just hear from you, he’ll make do.

the lyrics of the song are really sweet, he thinks it might be the first love song you’ve written fully. a part of him wonders what, or rather who, inspired you to write it, but perhaps it’s not his place to know. it won’t stop a part of him from wishing it was him though, and frankly he’s not sure what to make of that information just yet.

you had a rough skeleton of an idea for the instrumentals but pretty much gave him free reign with this one which he’s not going to say no to, making sure to sprinkle in a little bit of his own taste into it — heavier instruments are more of his forte, having countless alternative and rock musicians listed as his personal inspirations. the final product's a fine mix of you and him, perfectly balanced and no more of one or the other. he’s very proud of it, proud of you, as with everything that you do together.

his thumb hovers over the send button, the preview of his short voice message looping while he contemplates deleting it. it’s starting to get grating with how long it’s been going for, his pathetic voice doing nothing but making him overthink even more. he doesn’t know if he’s being presumptuous to imagine it but it seems like you’re... avoiding him?

it’s been more than a week with barely any texts or random voice memos, you're usually blowing up his phone with silly memes and song demos, or even as simple as asking how his day has been. nothing since the last time he came over and finished the song with you. he noticed something seemed up at the time but didn’t press, now the guilt eats at him for not at least trying to ask. you always did keep your troubles to yourself, preferring to handle them on your own and keeping him in the dark about it until it either got too much and eventually bubbled past the surface, or fizzled over and only coming out casually in conversation once it’s a thing of the past. but who's he to judge, he's not any better.

maybe he’s reading too much into it, you’ll tell him with time as you always do, right? maybe he’s blowing it out of proportion, maybe you just had a bad day before seeing him, or you’re just tired, or— enough, now i’m just overthinking again.

finally releasing his bottom lip from the onslaught of his teeth, he bites the bullet and hits send, tossing his phone on his nightstand. as he lays back down on the stiff mattress, the arm thrown over his face shields the glaring sunlight breaming down on his face. it’s way too bright in comparison for the thoughts swirling in his head and with a sigh, he uses the foot hanging off his bed to tug the curtains close.

give her time, she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

i just hope she’s okay.

well shit.

the realisation that there even a slight possibility that you're in love with eita hits you like a splash of ice cold water to the face. you won’t lie and say that you didn’t have your suspicions, but it’s been just so long, brushing it off as the closeness of childhood friends. he’s your best friend, the first one you contact with good news, the first name that comes to mind when asked to invite a plus one, the first person you think of when you see those tiktoks of lovesick poems captioned “who do you picture when you read this?”, the list goes on.

in some way or another, this is what you always wanted, someone who understands your ins and outs and to spend your years with. eita was always the only option you’ve considered, but god you’re scared.

you feel a little sick to your stomach, the thought of it all weighing too heavily on your mind. there’s just too much at stake here, and you’re hell bent on not letting whatever the hell these damned feelings are jeopardise years of what you’ve built together. unknowingly in a similar spot, you find yourself curled up in bed, head swimming with worst case scenarios and make-believe narratives that say this is doomed for disaster.

light knocks on your door gently pluck you from the stirring storm in your head and with an muffled “i’m coming in!”, hitoka shuffles into your room and audibly coos at your deposition.

“hey, you left your phone out on the counter and it went off a couple times. i think semi messaged you too, thought you might want to see it.”

speak of the devil.

with a small smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching your eyes, you take your phone from her hand with a mix of gratitude and dread, “thanks hitoka. i- can i ask you something?”

“yeah what’s up? everything okay?” she sits by your side, her pretty, youthful features plagued with concern.

the posters on your wall suddenly seem like the most interesting things in the room, your eyes meekly darting around and refusing to meet hers. a wave of embarrassment washes over you from head to toe as you mull over your thoughts, collecting and trying to put them into words without sounding like a total idiot. this is stupid, you open your mouth for a moment and close it in the next, the words stuck in your throat and you’re already regretting bringing it up. you’re not ready for this conversation as much as you want to and it festers and grows and feeds on the seeds of doubt sprouting.

her small, smooth uncalloused hand closes over the back of yours in assurance and comfort, the small action causing a surge of peace and calm to flow through you, “it’s about him, isn’t it?”

nodding in shame, you hesitantly speak up, quietly, “hypothetically if i did have feelings for him—what if he doesn’t feel the same way? i won’t be able to look at him again.”

hitoka sighs dramatically, “first off, it’s a hundred percent not hypothetical who are you even kidding, surely not me. second, have you seen the way he looks at you? i’m surprised you haven’t caught on sooner.”

when you remain silent, she takes it as a cue to continue, squeezing your hand, “listen, i don’t know him as well as you do by a long shot, but i know feelings when i see it, and that man is very into you. and don’t even come at me with that ‘but we’re best friends’ bullshit, you don’t act that way with kenma and vice versa.”

you stifle a laugh at that last part, feeling a little tension release from your muscles after listening to her perspective. she’s nothing but truthful and supportive especially when it comes to anything (especially serious) concerning you and your heart swirls with warmth that you have someone like her to talk to about these things, the boys aren’t much help but you still love them dearly.

“i’ve been running away from him for days, i haven’t spoken to him since the last time he came over.” you mumble, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling, eyes fixed on the rotating fan and letting it blur in your vision as your hand still remains clasped in hitoka’s.

you feel the weight of guilt on your shoulders for shutting him out so abruptly, the sudden rush of feelings leaving you dumbfounded in its wake. your instinct was to hide and let it pass, hoping he wouldn’t catch on, but you never stopped to consider what it might look like to him. truthfully, the longest you’ve ever been apart was when your family went on holidays overseas, never if you could help it — you miss him.

remembering that he sent a message, you opened it up, letting the sound of his voice flit through the still air within your four walls. it sends a tingle down your spine and causes a soft involuntary smile to stretch across your lips, it’s like music to your ears.

“i swear to god, you two are disgusting.” hitoka lightheartedly complains as she rolls her eyes, getting up to leave you be. “go see your man before i throw up.”

“shut up, it’s not like we’ll be alone!” you retort, flipping her off as she’s shutting the door with a click, hearing a yeah yeah yeah echo down the hall.

taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @cheesypuffkins87 @peachyugoose @tetzoro

@twiishaa @samuel1004 @blueparadis

notes. hi it’s been a while since we've seen our two blindly lovesick pals :3 no fun facts this time, just a little filler chapter !! they’re so stupid and lovesick PLEASE— also band lineup in the next one ! big love to @mikiruie for beta reading < 3

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[helloiamadrawer]

𝚃𝙰𝙳𝙲 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 🎪

Warnings: none! just general/cute headcanons of the silly circus gang 🤸

Gangle can make some downright delicious matcha green tea, she has a set of cups and ofc tea bags in her room so when anyone in the circus is upset or stressed from a wacky adventure, she'd offer to make some for them. (Jax would probably be the only one to refuse but hey he's missing out)

All of the girls of the circus had a sleepover once (it was definitely Ragatha's idea :) ), and when it came to the most invigorating activity being a pillowfight, Zooble kind of hesitated.

"Yeah, I think I should opt out of this one you do know I hit hard Ragatha..right?"

"Oh come on Zoobs!" Ragatha cheered," If I can take a butcher knife to the head a thousand times you sure can't hit me harder than--oof!" a pillow ricocheted at her face, sending her bouncing around her room like a ball in a pinball machine (imagine the sound like the pinball makes while hitting the machine with the situation that is happening to Ragatha)

Finally coming back to solid ground, stars revolve around her head as she weaves from side to side as Zooble immediately ran to her followed by Pomni and Gangle to help the rag doll up and keep her steady. "I'm so sorry, I told you I hit too hard!" "Are you okay Ragatha?" Pomni asked cautiously, waving a hand in front of her face. "I'm good..no worries." she chuckled lightly, a wavered smile paved on her face from being clocked by a damn pillow. Rest assured, they never did pillowfights again because Zooble kicks too much ass lmaooo

Caine is a great singer AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE and here's how everyone knew: he left a door open one day leading to some sort of auditorium different than the one at the Tent, Pomni was the first to see the door, she hesitantly stepped into the other world.

An array of seats were swarmed through the area but no Npc's were in any of the seats but on stage there were a group of them singing a very flowing vocal number, it sounded nice and calming and then walking out in the middle of the stage was Caine, after their measure of singing was cut off by a motion of his hand, silence fell over until the chime of a triangle rang out and he started singing ♥️ his voice was remarkable (song below)

Pomni=flabbergasted and in awe that this a.i could sing so well, she could almost feel herself floating from the graceful power of his singing voice she HAD to tell everyone! she ran to everyone's room, spreading the word and by the time Caine finished performing, all the circus members applauded and cheered.

Ragatha and Gangle were crying a little cause it was so beautiful.

Caine was startled at first no one ever came to his singing performances but momentarily starts bowing in reciprocation of the wonderous appreciation for him.

Pomni has actually asked Caine if she could have a change of outfit, guess what the a.i does? JUST GUESS? Bro changes the color theme of her fit b r u h 😂

Jax and Bubble have kissed once but it was off camera

Zooble was so tired one day that the next morning Jax saw them sleeping in her own 'Zooble Box' full of their spare parts. The purple rabbit thought this would be a funny picture on the wall so he snapped one then getting slapped around by the grumpy assortment of parts after

Ragatha loves to bake. She could bake almost everything you could imagine. Her fav thing to make is pineapple upside down cake or peach cobbler 😋

Kinger collects fireflies in mason jars to have some light in his dark little pillowfort during the day and then the following night he sets them free into the night. he thinks of them as his tiny house guards 🥺🥺🥺

Whenever somebody is in emotional turmoil, instead of Ragatha being the one for emotional advice Pomni has learned to take her place sometimes since she has transformed Gummigoo into a more hopeful being after his traumatic realization of him being an npc 🥲

She's invented her own kind of comforting strat s since she has known now that her friends really care about her. You can say it kind of inspired her to be like Ragatha but in her own unique way 💟

Zooble listens to breakcore/vogue music because it helps them with being comfortable with their mix n' match parts and feeling whole. Sometimes feeling like a fem/them queen helps being in this hellhole of a digital realm 💅

Jax would say rizz and not know what it means, just only says it cause it sounds cool 🙄 bro is literally rizzing up ppl in the show (watch the pilot or ep 2 you'll see what i mean)

[separatist-apologist]

I Knew You Were Trouble

Summary: After a disaster on Earth sends humans to live on colonies on different planets, Feyre Archeron's life has become impossibly difficult. The Federation meant to protect and provide for human refugees has abandoned them on a hostile planet that forbids them from hunting and has segregated them from the rest of the population.

When her older sister starts an accidental fire in an attempt to revitalize the barren land, Feyre comes face to face with one of the infamous, dreaded Horde Kings. They strike a bargain- her servitude for her sisters life. Now, trapped in his horde, Feyre has to acclimate to a new life and the demands of the man who took her- and hope she can survive him.

Based on the book Captive of the Horde King.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3

The pikis returned that evening and though they tried, Feyre refused to speak to either of them. Why, when they’d turn around and tell the horde king everything she said should it benefit them. Perhaps they were angling for a chance in his bed? 

Unlikely.

Nuala, with cheeks flushed with what Feyre assumed was embarrassment, spoke to her anyway. She explained the roles of pikis in-depth, perhaps thinking it would engender Feyre to her. As she bathed Feyre, she said pikis served the wives of the horde warriors, which made no sense to Feyre. She wasn’t the horde king's wife—she was his whore. 

It was apparently a custom for unmarried women—females, as they called themselves—to do this in order to attract a mate of their own. The unclaimed males would see how well they did, that the horde king had hand chosen them for his plaything, and apparently it made the other warriors find them marriageable. Feyre couldn’t imagine how, and part of her wanted to explain how humans did it.

There had been true customs in the past—she knew her father had courted her mother with money and gifts before they’d dated for a period of time, and then they’d married. Now, though, it was simpler. For either love or security—sometimes both—partners were chosen. There was no grand ceremony, no one to perform the rites. It typically happened among families behind closed door. One day they lived separately, the next they were together. 

Had Elain already reached out to Graysen, she wondered? He had connections to the federation—perhaps he could get her off the planet. Maybe Nesta would go, too. The thought made Feyre’s chest ache. She didn’t want to be left here alone, used up and discarded before dumped back in the village she hated.

She’d never get off. 

Feyre kept her eyes down as the piki prepared her for the brute she was saddled with. This was the promise she’d made him—and it was too much to hope he’d honor his word and not touch her until she healed. She supposed the piki had also told him she refused the salve. Perhaps he’d only said it to lower her guard, knowing he’d go back on his word just as soon as it suited her. 

When a mirror was held before her painted face, Feyre hated what she saw looking back. She barely looked human, let alone alive. Once again, Feyre thought she looked like a heathen gods plaything in her sheer night dress that covered nothing. The piki had somehow managed to set soft waves into her hair and made her face seem brighter despite the hollow hunger she could see gazing from her eyes. 

She doubted the horde king cared much about her own desire or interests beyond getting what he wanted. Still. Once it was done a few times, he might tire of her entirely. She couldn’t imagine, with a horde of women his own species to choose from, he’d stay interested in her for long. 

The piki left just as the sun had fully set, leaving Feyre kneeling on the edge of the bed, eyes cast down. She had but minutes before he arrived, and she intended to take advantage of it. She didn’t trust him not to hurt her, to maybe even kill her in the pursuit of pleasure. The horde king was careless—there were several sharp, curved daggers half hidden around his tent. Feyre stole one, sliding it beneath her pillow.

Just in case, she told herself.

The flaps moved just as she’d righted the pillows. Kneeling on the furs, she hoped she looked demure and submissive and not guilty. She certainly felt it. He seemed wary looking at her—perhaps it was the uncharacteristic silence she greeted him with. 

“I’m tired,” he announced. Feyre felt her irritation rise, though she swallowed it. 

Grit your teeth and bear it. 

She knew what to expect, at least. Did the Drakkari use any kind of protection, she wondered? Feyre had wedged half a lemon into her body before letting Isaac have her. Something told her the horde king wasn’t going to allow that. What would he do if she ended up with a half Drakkari, half human child?

She shoved the thought from her mind. Feyre very much doubted they were compatible that way. Surely this man—male, whatever—wasn’t the first to take a human woman. If it was possible, Feyre would have heard by now.

He dropped his belt without ceremony, turning toward her as she raised her eyes to look at him. He was trying to get a rise out of her, to provoke a little temper. Did he want her to fight him?

She wouldn’t. Not unless she had to, anyway, just to ensure she remained unrestrained for as long as possible.

“This was not how I imagined this moment,” he murmured as he came to stand before her. “Will you speak to me, kalles?”

“What do you want me to say?” she replied, hating how her voice betrayed her. “Take me, horde king, my body is yours?”

He cocked his head. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ll never hear those words,” she scoffed, hands forming fists at her side.

“You are mine,” he snarled in return, clearly frustrated. It had been a day, she wanted to scream—a day in which he’d examined her naked body, pinned her against him and forced her to eat, and dressed her up like his personal pet. Did he genuinely expect her to fall to her knees in gratitude?

Looking up at him, it was clear he did. For a moment, it occurred to Feyre that he might think he’d rescued her from her previous circumstances. It was arrogant of him to assume he’d saved her at all—that she’d required his presence, that he’d fixed her life.

All he’d done was made her more miserable than she already was. Feyre loathed seeing how the Drakkari lived, with all their opulent excess. No one was hungry here. Everyone was absurdly clean, they were safe, they were happy. She seethed with her resentment that she wasn’t even allowed to participate in it—only ever witnessed as an outsider, forced to obey the whims of truly cruel man.

Feyre only shrugged her shoulders before laying flat on her back with exaggerated boredom. She’d hoped to get away with not undressing, but he’d caught her.

“Stand, Morakkari,” he murmured, a strange reverence seeping into his tone. Morakkari. What did that mean? Feyre sat up, trying to hide her frustration as she did what he wanted.

“You swore to serve me,” he murmured, standing before her utterly naked. Feyre was trying not to notice his erect cock but it was hard. Even with her eyes fully on his face, she could see it bobbing from the corner of her eye. Must everything about him be so excessive? So large? 

Feyre lifted her chin, the little defiance she could offer when the odds were so against her. The horde king reached for her shoulders, brushing his fingers over the sheer material of the gown.

“Do you like this?”

“It’s clothes,” Feyre replied with a shrug. In truth, it was likely the nicest thing

His mouth dropped immediately, his frown prominent. “What would please you?”

Feyre didn’t dare answer that question to the naked male standing in front of her. “Just tell me what you want.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Take off your nightdress,” he ordered, removing his hands from her. His slow seduction had been ruined by her refusal to play along, but Feyre preferred it this way. The less touching, the better. Feyre dropped it, letting him once again look at her. There should have been lust—and perhaps there was—but it made her uncomfortable to see his concern.

“You didn’t eat today.” It was an accusation.

“And I never will,” she replied, heart pounding in her chest.

“I’ll give you something, if you do,” he said, catching her off guard. 

“What could you possibly give me?” she demanded, certain what he was offering hung between his legs. 

He seemed guarded—almost wary, as he said, “What do you want?”

Feyre considered this for a moment. “Anything?”

His brows furrowed, creating two creases between his eyes. “Do not order me to kill myself, kalles.”

Feyre hadn’t even considered that. Indignant, she said, “I wasn’t going to! I was going to ask…”

Feyre bit her inner cheek as he dared a step toward her, seemingly forgetting they were both naked. The Drakkari seemed more casual when it came to nudity—perhaps this was simply familiar to him. It seemed strange to Feyre, though. Intimate in a vulnerable way, even. Resisting the urge to cover her chest, Feyre said, “I want to know your name.”

He cocked his head, considering this. “Names have power, kalles. Are you asking to have power over me?”

“I just want to know what to call you.”

“No one can ever know,” he replied, perhaps assuming she was going to announce it to everyone she met. Maybe she would, if she felt so inclined, though some small sliver of guilt wormed its way into her stomach. 

“Who would I tell?” Feyre heard herself say, voice small and sad. “I only know you.”

There was a pause. “If I tell you my name, you’ll eat?”

“Broth only,” Feyre informed him, thinking he’d lay out a massive spread she’d never be able to finish without vomiting. Besides, she still felt guilty when she looked around at how nice everything was here, even if he was about to push her to the bed and have his way with her. 

“You’ll eat the portion I serve you?” he demanded. There was a trick to it, though Feyre was too tired to figure it out.

She nodded. “Fine.”

He swallowed, as if it pained him to say this. Perhaps it was just unusual given no one shared names, except for herself. Or maybe this was some kind of violation, telling his stolen whore his name only to have it used against him.

“My name is Rhysand,” he finally said, the words coming so softly that they felt like a dream. “But you, Morakkari, should call me Rhys.”

“Rhys,” she whispered, catching how his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “What happens now?”

“Exactly what I promised,” he said, though he hesitated as he looked down at her. “I’m…”

“Yes, horde king?” she pressed, certain he wasn’t going to now. He should, though. This was too intimate, too soft. Push her to the bed—force himself on her. At least she could go back to thoroughly hating him then. It would be so easy. 

He sighed, crouching for her nightdress. Feyre didn’t dare move as he fixed the fabric before sliding it over her head. Like a child, she held her arms up to get them into the sleeves. “Sleep with me tonight,” he murmured, climbing into the bed utterly naked. Feyre stood there dumbfounded.

“What about—”

“Veekor, kallas,” he murmured, reaching for her. “Sleep.”

He was warm, his hold strong. Feyre let him pull her against his chest, a million questions running through her mind. “Can I ask you other things?”

He groaned. “In the morning.”

Feyre felt him angle his pelvis away from her, well aware his cock was still rigid. It was a small gesture he didn’t need to make and it bothered her. “I have questions.”

“Yes, your questions are endless, I imagine,” he replied, his mouth in her hair. “I want to hear them. In the morning.”

“What did you do that made you so exhausted?” she demanded.

“I spoke with you. That’s enough.”

She twisted to find his unserious face smiling down at her. “You’re rude.”

“So you say, kalles.”

“Would you call me Feyre?” she asked him after a moment. “Where I’m from…female is an insult.”

He paused. “But you are a female.”

“No, I’m a woman,” she protested as he snorted.

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not. When…when human men want to put women back in their place and remind us we’re lesser, they call us females. It’s how you’d describe an animal. They’re more…elevated, I guess? But we’re little more than cattle.”

Rhys blinked. “Why would they want you to believe you’re lesser?”

“The same reason you took me to be your whore, I guess? Power?”

Rhys sat up quickly, the fur covering his body sliding to his waist. “My what?” he demanded, tone thundering. 

“Your whore,” Feyre repeated, careful to keep her tone even. “Remember when you exchanged my sisters life in favor of servitude—”

“I never said whore,” he replied, those violet eyes flashing. He was so strange to her right then with his tail, tattooed gold right before the little tuft at the end. Those dark, nearly colorless eyes were staring so intently that Feyre thought he could see right down to her bones if he wanted to.

“You said kasikkari,” she reminded him. “Whore.”

He spluttered then, murmuring what sounded like both curse and prayer to his goddess “It does not mean whore.”

Feyre stilled, suddenly wishing she hadn’t brought this up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, desperately wanting to avoid whatever came next. “We should—”

���It means mate,” he continued, determined she would hear him. “Blessed by Kakkari herself.”

“Rhys—”

“Not my whore. My mate, my wife, my Morakkari—my queen.”

Feyre was going to be sick. In a way, that was the best she could have hoped for, and yet…Feyre’s mind turned immediately to a man Nesta had a brief flirtation with—Tomas Sr. and his wife. He’d beaten her behind closed doors, taking his every little frustration out on his wife and no one had ever said a word because wives were the property of their husbands.

And she was the property of the horde king. Tomas had no power at all and still was allowed to do whatever he liked. The people here couldn’t even look at Rhys. If he wanted to harm her, who was going to help her? Her own piki told him everything she said. She had no friends, no allies.

Feyre felt her chest rising and falling, her breath coming in short, panicked pants. He was going to kill her, she realized. There was no escape, no way she’d convince him to let her go back home once he tired of her. All her plans were crumbling around her because wives couldn’t leave. 

She felt his hand on her back, rubbing a line down her spine as he murmured something she couldn’t hear. Blood roared in her ears and right then, Feyre was determined to escape, no matter the cost. She had the weapon under her pillow. She could wait until he was asleep and kill him before escaping on foot. She’d lay low for a while—maybe in the mountains? 

“Don’t touch me,” she managed, pulling further away from him. “Don’t ever touch me.” His jaw clenched, eyes going dark, but Rhys said nothing. Feyre gripped her knees, chin tucked against her chest as she worked to settle her racing heart. 

You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re okay. You’re safe.

It was an old mantra she’d repeated from the time she was young. It didn’t need to be true to settle her down, it just needed to be repeated. Feyre had never been safe a day in her life, and she certainly wasn’t here. But she had herself, and Feyre had never let herself down. Not when it mattered.

Rhys settled back to the bed, covering himself while he waited for her to make a decision. Every inch of him was taut, coiled like a waiting spring. He expected her to try and run and was prepared to grab her. Feyre wasn’t stupid. She knew better. It was pure hell to force herself to lay beside him, rolling to her side so her back faced him.

She heard him huff out a breath, like he wanted to say something before thinking better of it. Smart. Feyre knew if he tried to talk to her, her temper would get the better of her and she’d give away the only card in her hand. 

Just breathe.

“Feyre—”

“Not tonight,” she snapped, silencing him entirely. “Sleep, remember?”

He huffed again, clearly not used to being told what to do. He was silent, his breath steadying as Feyre laid beside him, counting slowly in her head in an attempt to make it seem like she was sleeping. Once, she’d started to move to her back and he’d made a soft noise, reaching for her before Feyre slapped his hand away.

If he felt it, he gave no indication. His breathing was even and slow and didn’t budge even when, this time, Feyre did move. She tested how deep he slept by sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. His eyes remained closed, his face soft. She almost didn’t believe this man—male—slept at all.

Pulling her legs back to the bed, Feyre reached beneath her pillow for the Drakkari blade. The metal sang softly against the scabbard it was sheathed in, causing her to suck in a breath as her heart pounded. Had he heard? 

Rhys didn’t move. 

Feyre crept closer, thinking of the people she’d killed in her village. She knew how to end a life, now. One decisive slide against his throat would keep him from screaming, and a second to his chest—piercing the hard breastplate—would stop his heart. He’d be dead before he knew what was happening, and she’d have the necessary head start to avoid his warriors. 

Still, her hand trembled as she brought that curved blade to his throat. Unlike the dagger that had been taken from her, this one was sharp—capable. Feyre took a breath, willing herself to move, but her vision was flooded with the sight of red blood as the echoes of the gasping filled her senses.

Fingers curled around her wrist. “Have I displeased you, kasikkari?”

His grip was iron-clad, keeping her from cutting him open but also preventing her from moving away. She’d been so lost in her memories that Ferye hadn’t noticed his eyes had opened and he was watching her. 

“I’m not your wife. Not yet,” Feyre hissed, trying to jerk back. The blade made contact with his throat, causing a thin line of flood to slide over his golden brown skin. The horde king didn’t react. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed, but Feyre did. 

“Where have you gone, kasikkari?” he whispered, his gaze burning against her skin. “I know that look.”

Feyre hated him for noticing. No one else ever had. Feyre tried to pull back but he was stronger, yanking her forward until he had her on top of him, straddling his waist. His free hand held her in place, and fuck him, he was erect and pressed against her body. The only thing between them was her night dress, so thin there might as well be nothing at all.

Feyre’s body responded against her will and she knew he felt the rush of heat that flooded between her legs.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she snarled in response. 

“You swore to serve me in all things,” he reminded her, darkness creeping into his tone. “Answer me.”

Feyre managed to break free from his hold, falling off the bed as she did so. The knife slid from her hand and she could have impaled herself on the sharp blade had Rhys not caught it easily, flinging it across the room. The blade hit one of the golden chests at the far end of the tent, clattering loudly. 

“I didn’t swear to tell you all my thoughts!” Feyre replied, her voice rising in anger.

“You will do whatever I ask you to!” he growled, rising from the bed like a terrifying, dark king. Feyre was almost afraid of him at that moment, even when she reached for her sandal lined on the floor nearby. His eyes flashed. “Do not do whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“I hate you,” she whispered, launching the sandal at his face. Rhys caught it easily, tossing it to the side as he advanced toward her. Feyre threw her other shoe, which he batted away from his face without blinking. “I’ll always hate you.”

“You will be my wife,” he breathed, reaching for her. Feyre stumbled back, nearly at the flap of the tent. “My queen! I will fill you with my heirs and you will bear warriors for the horde, and you will like it!”

“I agreed to be your whore!” she shot back, screaming her words loud enough that anyone near them could easily hear. “I never agreed to be your wife or your queen! You may have my body, but you can have nothing else!”

“Know this, kasikkari,” he breathed, reaching for his discarded trousers instead of her. “When the Black Moon rises, you will be my wife and I will have you in all ways—your body and your mind.”

He stormed from the tent, unconcerned with his nakedness. Feyre didn’t bother chasing after him to tell him he was wrong. Maybe he would get her body, but he’d never have her mind. Feyre would fight him until she died. 

Rhys didn’t return that evening and Feyre didn’t sleep, waiting for a continuation of their argument. Instead, the piki were back, regarding her with wary eyes as they coaxed her into the bath. Remind her of her promise to the Vorakkar, they brought a massive bowl of broth for her to consume. It was nearly too much and yet a welcome reprieve from nothing at all. 

She barely finished it, protesting when she had a third left. The piki merely regarded her without sympathy, informing her the Vorakkar would be displeased if she didn’t. He’d given her his name—this was the bargain between them. Feyre did, strangely satisfied by the end of it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been full. 

“I’m not wearing that,” Feyre informed them when the small skirt was brought out. “I’d rather walk around naked.”

That was a lie, but the piki weren’t Rhys. They weren’t about to call her bluff, either. After they realized she would not put the clothes on, even with cajoling and several threats to get the Vorakkar, the two left, she assumed to bring him back so he and Feyre could have another go at each other. 

Instead, a different woman stepped into the tent. She had similar features to Rhys—and was easily just as beautiful. Feyre had never seen hair so blonde on Drakkari before, but this woman’s cornflower hair fell in glossy waves down her back. Her eyes were closer to the Drakkari gold so many others had, though a shade darker—almost brown. They reminded her of her sister Elain, if she was honest. 

“Hello,” she said in a sunny voice. 

Feyre was immediately suspicious. “Who are you?”

“Morrigan,” she said without an ounce of concern she’d shared her name with Feyre. “Do not tell me yours.”

“Because names have power?” Feyre asked in a huff. Morrigan smiled, a pretty thing even in the gloom of the tent.

“Exactly. You’re learning. I heard you refuse to wear the clothes I provided for you?”

Oh, was that what this was about? She’d offended the seamstress? “You made the clothes?” 

Tail swishing behind her, Morrigan looked around the tent. “And lent you some, yes. I saw the rags you came in with—I burned them, by the way.”

“Of course you did,” Feyre replied through gritted teeth. “And my dagger?”

“Some of the young are playing with it,” she said dismissively, eyes flicking toward the flap of the tent. “It’s not dangerous.”

“It was all I had.”

“That’s sad,” Morrigan replied, back to examining Feyre. “I would be surprised if the blade could slice through butter.”

“Did you come to insult me?”

“Why not?” Morrigan replied with a shrug, her gaze flicking toward the golden chests before turning back to look at Feyre fully. “You insult the horde so well. My cousin is unwilling to give you any back, but I am not so kind.”

“How have I insulted the horde?” Feyre demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

Morrigan’s clawed, six-fingered hand unfurled so she could tick off the insults. “I hear you will not eat. You do not wear our clothing, you shout at our Vorakkar, you hide in this tent all day and night making your demands, you have—”

“He kidnapped me!” Feyre nearly exploded.

Morrigan wasn’t impressed. “You disrespect our goddess Kakkari, burn the land and then lie when our warrior come to repay the goddess. Lie, even. And then, I hear, you swear to serve only to turn around and act ungrateful for the mercy of my horde. Or do I misunderstand? I speak the universal tongue best of us all…but sometimes I do not get it right.”

“I agreed to be his whore—”

“Ah, yes, we all heard that,” Morrigan replied, tail swishing angrily behind her. “You are content to be a whore but not a queen. Humans are so curious—I should think being a respected member of our horde would be better than…that. But enlighten me, kallas. What is so offensive about becoming Morakkari?”

“I don’t want to be his wife,” Feyre retorted stubbornly, feeling a little shamed by Rhys’s apparent cousin. She saw it, then—the similar features, the near-otherworldly beauty. Even the way she conducted herself screamed royalty. Though if she was or not, Feyre wasn’t sure. She didn’t understand how someone became a horde king to begin with.

“Have a lot of suitors back in your human village?” Morrigan asked, her voice deceptively sweet. “Perhaps someone who puts our Vorakkar to shame? I would be careful if I were you—he’s likely to end them if he learns your feelings lay elsewhere.”

Feyre wanted to sink into the ground. “There’s no one else.”

“Then explain it all to me,” Morrigan replied, plopping down on one of the large cushions beside the table. “Perhaps I can ease some of your worries.”

Feyre stayed standing just long enough for Morrigan to huff out an impatient sigh. “Sit,” she ordered, and something in her voice compelled Feyre to comply. She left space between them, just in case Morrigan decided to attack her. Those claws, painted gold, seemed deadly enough. 

“I came to save my sisters. I thought…” Eyes cast downward, Feyre didn’t dare admit what the female beside her was piecing together.

“You thought you’d let him bed you a few times, he’d grow tired, and let you go?” she guessed. 

“Yes,” Feyre whispered, embarrassed by the whole thing. “Men have never been interested in me. I thought he simply wanted to punish me.”

“Males have never liked you?” Morrigan asked with slight disbelief. “Human males are blind, I suppose? You have been all the horde warriors have spoken of since we arrived—the human kalles and her great beauty. Well…and how you looked the Vorakkar in the eyes.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Feyre demanded.

“It isn’t done,” Morrigan replied casually, reaching across her chest into the satchel she’d brought. She pulled out a long strip of folded leather and laid it out in front of her. “I suppose the Morakkari is allowed. But the rest of us would be showing great disrespect to look him in the eyes.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me,” she said with a playful smile. “Though, he tolerates it on occasion. When we were children, I used to do it simply to remind him he wasn’t that special.” Feyre tried—and failed—to hide her smile. She didn’t want to like Morrigan.

“Is that why no one will look at me?”

“It is,” Morrigan agreed. “It would be disrespectful to you and our Vorakkar. I hope you don’t mind—”

“Please,” Feyre said, a little embarrassed by how badly she wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t so deferential. “At least…in private, it would be nice. Humans look each other in the eye to convey respect.”

“Interesting,” Morrigan replied, eyes shining. “And they take whores before they take wives?”

“Noooo…” Feyre dragged out the syllables, because she didn’t know how to explain that marriages as they’d once been simply didn’t exist here. “It’s complicated.”

“So you say,” Morrigan replied, sliding a razor between her teeth as she drew across the leather with a piece of white chalk. “Most things aren’t that complicated.”

“Oh yeah? Like the Vorakkar taking a human for a wife?”

“Exactly,” Morrigan said, words muffled. She pulled it out, urging Feyre to stand so she could measure her hips, waist, and legs. “He decided he would take a wife and that wife is you. Simple.”

“And everyone agrees with his decision?”

Morrigan grimaced. “Nik, they do not. But he is the Vorakkar, so he will do as he wishes.”

“And if people decide to leave?”

“They’re free to return to Dothik if they wish. No one here is a hostage…except, perhaps, you in your mind. They won’t, though. Everyone here would gladly follow the Vorakkar anywhere, even if he has a human Morakkari. They might even like you if you stopped screaming at him and left the tent.”

“Or they’d hate me more,” Feyre said glumly, not bothering to add that nearly everyone else in her life did. Even her sisters didn’t truly like her—seeing Nesta speak out in her defense had been shocking and unexpected. If she’d been Elain, perhaps it would have been different, but Feyre and Nesta had always been at odds.

“I like you,” Morrigan informed her cheerfully, jotting some things down on the leather with the white chalk. “And I came prepared to hate you.”

Feyre sat back down gingerly, her body measured for whatever Morrigan was putting together for her. “What am I supposed to do?”

“What do you know of our goddess? Kakkari?”

“Very little,” Feyre admitted, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Morrigan pulled out heavy thread from her bag and a curved needle, threading it with deft fingers.

“Kakkari is all life,” she began in that soft, lilting voice of hers. “Think of her as the earth—all life comes from her. She is steady and solid. Her counterpart is Drukkar, who is her foundation. If she is steady and forgiving, he is the opposite. Violent storms, punishing droughts, unrelenting heat—all is Drukkars wrath. And still, Kakkari always opens for him and accepts him, and in return he loves her, protects her, and punishes all that would harm her.”

Feyre only blinked. Humans had once had gods, too, though she figured they’d been destroyed along with her planet. She didn’t know the stories anymore. Nesta did, and sometimes clung to them when they were younger, praying to this god or that, for all the good it did any of them. It all felt like stories meant to explain a confusing and harsh world.” It was clear that the Drakkari believed in their gods, though. Feyre kept her mouth shut.

“The Vorakkar is much like Drukkar,” Morrigan said when it was clearly Feyre had missed the subtleties. “He is still a male.”

Again, the whole conversation was lost on Feyre. “Oh. Okay.”

“If you want things from him, open up for him,” Morrigan explained, all but spelling it out for Feyre. She laughed to herself, shaking that head of golden hair “Drakkari males worship their females.”

“Rh—the, uh, Vorakkar doesn’t…”

Morrigan glanced over, pressing her lips into a line as Feyre’s mind betrayed her. She’d held a knife to his throat and he’d simply tossed it to the side. He’d threatened to have his way with her twice and stopped, both times because she was hurt and frightened. Even last night after their fight, he’d left rather than push her further.

“Where is he?”

“Gone,” Morrigan replied with a shrug of delicate shoulders. 

“Gone?” Feyre demanded. 

“Yes, gone. Out with some warriors. And do not ask me when he will return because that is something you should know. I am certain he will return—the Black Moon is nearly upon us. He won’t want to miss it.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” she said glumly.

“He’s ordered a tassimara,” Morrigan said, before quickly explaining it was something equivalent to a marriage. It seemed to be more of a festival than anything, but he’d make his intentions known then and there would be no argument or debate from anyone. The emphasis Morrigan put on that word implied that Feyre, too, would keep her mouth shut as well. 

Morrigan left not too long after that, promising to have a decent compromise for Feyre in the form of a pair of pants. Maybe she’d feel better if it was only her breasts that were exposed rather than all of her. Feyre turned over Morrigan's words—who later insisted she call her Mor—for the two nights Rhys wasn’t home. Heart pounding, she’d begun to think he wasn’t coming at all.

That something might have happened to him and she’d be trapped here in a hostile place, with no friends or allies save for his cousin.

But the night before the infamous Black Moon, she heard the ground thunder beneath the feet of the pyroki. Feyre stepped into the cold evening air, ignoring the chill to watch the eight of them ride in.

There he was.

The man who would be her husband. Their eyes locked for only a moment before he trotted on. He’d be in to see her soon.

And she’d be ready. 

[niphredil-14]

hey so how do you think the rottmnt boys would deal with having a published writer s/o. I imagine s/o has made Leo a jupiter jim fanfic which feels way too accurate it could be one of his comic books. Or like left little poems for Donnie lying around to cheer him up and discuss feelings with it or Fantasy short story for Mikey?

Oh, how the writer in me loves this request!! (also, welcome back to my inbox! nice to see you again! c:)

Leonardo:

Ever since Leo had found out that his lover could write, he had been begging them to write fanfiction for him. They had most likely been forced to watch all of the Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu movies before they even started dating Leo. But no matter how much he had begged for fanfiction, they had refused. They were just too busy working on the next volume in their series! But little did he know, that in the weeks leading up to his birthday, they had been brainstorming, plotting, drafting, and editing a special story just for him. When they handed him the gift, wrapped meticulously in Jupiter Jim themed wrapping paper, he was so excited! Before even unwrapping it, he knew that he would love it, just based on the look of pure joy and excitement in their eyes. He ripped the paper off, and found a deep blue binder, filled with paper. On the cover was written, "Happy Birthday, Leonardo" in large letters, and below it, in smaller letters, was written, "All my love, Y/N <3" His heart warmed, and he flipped the binder open, and almost squealed in excitement. Jumping over t them, he pulled them into a tight hug. He did not put it down until he finished reading it, and then he would just reread it. After he almost dropped it while on patrol, he asked Donnie to transcribe it and put it on his phone.

Raphael:

He found out early on in the relationship that his partner was a writer, and while he was very impressed with them and their talent, he wasn't much of a reader, so he didn't fully grasp just how amazing they were at first. While Raph could read, it was always hard for him, and he would have to go back and reread paragraphs over and over until they stuck. Out of love and interest in his darling, though, he began to listen to the audiobook versions of their books while he worked out. And he found out that worked for him, and was enjoyable. And though he often found himself wishing that it was their voice reading their stories to him, he knew from their conversations just how awkward they felt reading anything they wrote aloud to people, he knew how much they hated it, how vulnerable it made them feel, so he never asked. How much and often they talked about their work to him varied, though when they did it was usually just them complaining to him about their publishers/editors, or asking for his advice on the plot, or just using him as a fill in for them to perform the rubber duck theory. However, one day, they burst into his room, holding a book, and practically shaking. He had been sat on his bed, and they quickly sat down beside him, with the book pressed close to their chest. Before he could get a word out, they had begun to speak.

"I have a gift for you!" They trilled, they voice high, and sing-songy. A grin had stretched across his face, even wider than it had when they had first entered the room.

"Aw, Babe, you didn't have to get me anything!" He said to them.

"Well, It's not really that kind of gift, so..." They trailed off, and instead opted for just pushing the book into his hands, forcing the knitting needles aside. He looked down at the book, and found their name written below the title. How they had managed to keep the fact that they had published a new book a secret from him was beyond him, and he paused in wonder. "Open it!!" They exclaimed. And so he did, he flipped through the pages until he came to the dedication, and his eyes began to water at what he saw. Typed in a fancy, swirly, italic font was written,

"To my dearest, Raphael, who has given me endless support, love, and inspiration, who's the best muse anyone could ask for, and who's character is better than any I could create, I have written you into these pages so that your essence may be as immortal as my love for you is."

They had all the talent when it came to words, and he was left with only speechlessness as he pulled them into a tight hug, fat tears falling down his face as he buried his beak into their neck, holding them as close as he could.

Donatello:

It had never been a secret that Donnie was incredibly impressive, and taking that fact into consideration, it was no real surprise that anyone, even as talented a writer as his love, would find themselves often speechless in his presence. With their emotions running too high to properly verbalize them in the moment, they would often find themselves writing out how they felt in long paragraphs until they were able to cut down the words into poems, vague and intricate enough to not be fully clear, and yet so powerful as to make someone know exactly the emotion the poet felt while scribbling the words. Donnie had a very clear understanding of their experience with being unable to verbalize just how they felt, as he often experienced the same thing, and resorted to building things as a way to show his love. Which was why he was so moved when he had found their journal. He knew that all of their final drafts were kept on an ever-growing document on their computer, but he never knew just how those drafts came to be final. And yet, there was a pain in his chest as he held the journal, a disorganized mess of thoughts, in his hands, and was able to see their word vomit be carved down into pure art, not unlike a sculptor chipping away at wood or stone, to reveal the heart of their creation. He had known that he was important enough to them for them to gift him some of their poems, but to be able to look at the proof, to be able to hold it, and to touch it, the proof of just how strong the emotions he stirred up within them were, that was a powerful experience. It was as if his brain had completely shut off for the moments that he held their raw thoughts in his grasp, and all he could think of was how impossible it would be to ever completely and successfully express the same level of depth that his emotions had for them. But he knew that he'd be damned if he didn't try. And with that, he placed their journal back down on their desk, and made his way to his lab, already brainstorming.

(I got kinda carried away with Raph's, I'm not sure what came over me lmao. guess i got possessed by some kind of inspiration ahaha)

[orionsangel86]

I was once again flicking through the Sandman comics and thinking about the changes made to the show (as I am pretty much always doing) and something that struck me as interesting is why they chose to swap out Tales in the Sand for Men of Good Fortune.

In the comics, The Sound of Her Wings is the last story in Preludes and Nocturns. Dream’s meeting with his sister Death closes out the first of the overarching storylines within the Sandman saga, and it ends with Dream finding some measure of peace after speaking with her, and finding joy in hearing the sound of wings.

This can be interpreted as the first bit of real foreshadowing of Dream’s desire to die. Anyone who has read the Kindly Ones knows how important The Sound Of Her Wings is as it is called back to heavily at the end.

In the comics, the next issue can be seen as a one off, but is included in The Doll’s House book. This issue is Tales in the Sand - the tragic love story of Dream and Nada.

Right after Tales in the Sand, we get to the Doll’s House, which begins the exact same way that episode 6 of The Sandman Netflix show ends - with Desire calling on Despair to begin their scheming over the existance of the vortex.

I found it very interesting how the show swapped out Tales in the Sand for Men of Good Fortune - a story which in the comics comes much later within The Doll’s House storyline.

On the one hand, it makes sense to move Men of Good Fortune outside of the Doll’s House story for pacing reasons. But by putting it where they did they have drastically changed the tone of the story in a few ways.

1. It changes the end of The Sound of Her Wings. Show!Dream doesn’t leave his sister to sit and find peace in the thought of death, instead he does the opposite, he immediately goes and seeks out the one person he knows who is quite literally the antithesis of death - someone who finds joy in living. It still ends the Preludes and Nocturns story with Dream finding some manner of peace and happiness, but not in the sound of wings. Instead, it’s in the reunion with his friend who loves life so much he refuses to die.

2. It takes the place of the only love story we are given for Dream at that point in the comics. The Sandman comics have a tendency to avoid revealling too much information about Dream too soon and up until this point in the comics, all we know about his love life is that he condemned a lover to hell 10,000 years ago, based on a very brief conversation in A Hope In Hell. Tales in the Sand is the expansion of that brief conversation, giving us at least one perspective of how the tragedy played out.

I am really curious about why they decided to leave it out of the show completely. Partly I think its because it isn’t exactly a flattering look at Dream as a character. Probably didn’t seem like good business sense to the people who wanted The Sandman to perform well to basically destroy your main characters likeability half way through the first season (imagine all the Twitter puriteens and anti types who would get on their high horses attacking Sandman fans and Neil Gaiman alike for daring to like a main character who comes across a little bit rapey in this particular story - among other horrific character flaws).

Also, Tales in the Sand generally fits better with the Season of Mists story arc overall, and I think we will get a much kinder and more forgiving version of this story in the show.

So instead of being introduced to the first of Dream’s lovers, we are introduced to Hob Gadling. Make of that what you will.

3. It makes the immediate cut to Desire at the start of The Doll’s House story all the more eyebrow raising. Part of the reason why I think Desire’s scenes follow on from Tales in the Sand is because Desire had a lot to do with Dream’s bad behaviour in that story, and what ultimately happened is partly their fault. It is brought up both in comic and show when Desire tells Despair that “Nada was a mistake” but in the show, this comment remains a mystery, whereas in the comic, it goes some way into explaining the horrific story we have just read.

In the show, instead it makes for absolutely beautiful subtext as they cut to Desire’s realm and the song Desire as Desire says “Attend sweet Sibling” whilst we have just watched Dream reunite with Hob and smile the first real smile he has had all season so far. For a split second on my first watch I legit thought Desire was talking to Dream at that point and encouraging him to hook up with Hob. It was a very confusing few seconds!

At the end of the day, I think the change to the order of these stories was a very good idea, even without the added level of shipping fodder it gives us Dreamling shippers. In changing the end to The Sound of Her Wings in the show, it removes the foreshadowing of Dream’s desire to die, which I’ll be honest, so far I can’t see at all in the show version of the story. Instead, we get a Dream who is happy for the first time after reuniting with his friend - who apparently waited an additional 33 years for him and built/refurbished a pub in that time.

I have a bazzillion more thoughts on the changes from comic to show on the Men of Good Fortune issue in particular, but that’s for another post. I just had to get my thoughts down as the more I read and re-read the comics, the more I feel like the show is considering a different direction, a more hopeful happy direction. But I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

[bluemoondust]

I DIED AT THE TRAGIC RABID WET DOG BLADE

I present, a crack-ish idea (not request) with yan!Blade.

Blade curses his immortality, and in the Xianzhou culture the long-lived species tend to be stable. Like, staying in one way of life throughout their long lives. Unless one is a vidyadhara who gets reborn.

Blade and his darling who actually has FUN with her immortality. Because guess what? when you outlive everyone you get a new start, and once you get a new start you can turn into another version of you. Like an actress in a theatre who can pick her role as she likes once the performance is over.

She has gone through various stages of life, each polishing her skills and playing different roles, in this stage she chooses to be a stellaron hunter.

(like barbie who can do everything. Blade wishes to die, his immortal darling is living her best life).

Blade and a darling like this is literally the embodiment of the "Why dis 💀 look so mad 😭😭😭" meme.

BUT JUST IMAGINE

Darling who is a vidyadhara... Blade would literally see you losing memories of your past life as a blessing. Since you, unlike him, can just forget everything once you reach death's doors. Especially if one of your lives wasn't a pleasant one.

Despite that,,, JUST THINK ABOUT BLADE WATCHING OVER YOUR PAST LIVES. He's witnessed the different roles you've played, watching from a distance, examining your choices. Even if you're different, you still look the same and sometimes he catches certain habits you have that follow you from past lives. It doesn't matter to him...you're still the same person, despite any changes.

You being a Stellaron Hunter in this current cycle is interesting. Now you're even closer than before. Blade doesn't have to watch from afar (too much since he still does). He wonders what choices you'll make now and what caused you to join the Stellaron Hunters (in some ways it matters but doesn't matter to him, you're here with him after all).

Feral idea: Blade refusing to let you die under any circumstances until he's able to die himself. He finally has you where he wants, so why would he let anyone or anything take you away? Especially death. He is fully aware that once you die again, you'll just forget and he cannot—no, he won't have that happen.