#is an indicator that that something is going on here

[savanir]

A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park. 

The situation had seemed so simple. 

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation. 

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire. 

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped" 

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position. 

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available. 

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act" 

The audio cuts out. 

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!" 

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

[endemiccharm]

The whole "DNI" thing began in fandom as a way to say: "here's an opinion I have, and I know the opinion is not universal, and I don't really want to hear people disagreeing in the tags so like, please just leave it." It was not a way to say "hey, I dislike this whole subsection of humanity and if you engage with my work I'm going to scream."

example: "God I get so frustrated with the whole thing where Aragorn doesn't struggle not to take the ring like, at all, as though his line wasn't the reason Sauron still reigns. As though him being 'king' somehow shields him. It didn't shield Isildur! (I know, I know. Aragorn stans DNI)"

It's frustrating that it's moved to a position of purity and judgement. Like, the above example isn't "I'm right, you're wrong, fuck off" it's just "I know it's not a universal opinion, let me vent". It was a signal to the readers that the OP wasn't going to get involved in certain discussions, and if someone reblogged with "but Aragorn is the best because...", the OP would just not engage with that post, because they'd already indicated they didn't want to. Or they'd block that person and move on. They wouldn't (in my experience) dogpile on the person and run them through the coals.

Tl;dr: tags are to tell your readers something about your own viewpoints, not to control their behavior. If you tag "Men DNI", then you are decidedly telling me something about your viewpoint. And it's rancid.

"xyz DNI" blocking people is YOUR job, sorry. You cannot ask the world to simply move around you, you have to take control of your online experience or you will be fucking miserable forever. Most people don't read your bio/pinned/carrd before touching the posts that cross their dash anyways.

Also maybe worry less about if someone who likes something you hate clicks on your tumblr post. I promise it is not that fucking serious.

Also-also if you have this DNI because your friends/moots said or implied you have to otherwise you're somehow Bad and/or will be punished by them if you don't, that's kind of fucked and maybe you need less controlling friends.

[planetsandstarsandstuff]

Natal Chart Notes/Observations:

✽ Those with Venus in the 3H can be extremely sweet in the way they speak to others - these people are often very verbally affectionate, especially with those closest to them. Compliments from them can feel particularly validating.

✿ Cancer Moons tend to be babied a lot - people assuming they're more sensitive than they are, thinking their feelings need to be protected, etc. Their vulnerability is often exaggerated in the minds of others.

✽ Having Saturn or Mercury in/ruling the 2H can allow a person to detach from material possessions quite easily; they tend to approach this area of life with logic + practicality and are often able to throw items away with little hesitation (Mercury likely even more so than Saturn, as Saturn's rigidity can hold them back here.)

✿ 3H Neptune may be especially prone to dropping things.

✽ Those with Mercury in the 12H often struggle to turn their brain off; it can feel like there's constant chatter in their subconscious. This may also be true for those with Pisces Mercury, Neptune-Mercury aspects, and Neptune in the 3rd - no structure to keep racing thoughts contained.

✿ Above is an excerpt from an interview with Joan Didion, who has her Sun, Moon, Mercury, and Venus in the 6H - keen awareness of how one spends their time, finding and creating beauty in the mundane, daily indulgence in life's pleasures. Those with 6H placements, when expressed at their best, are particularly good at remembering to live.

✽ 7H Suns are often such lovely people to engage with, they bring so much warmth and vitality to their interactions with others. Very friendly people who focus a lot of their energy on those around them.

✿ If you have any t-squares in your chart, look to the apex to see where you're likely to engage in unhealthy coping mechanisms in response to issues indicated by its two opposing houses. If the apex is in the 12th house, for example, this can look like isolating, excessive daydreaming, and possibly substance use. In the 7H this might look like codependence, in the 6H overworking, etc. The sign and planet should be considered as well.

(look to the opposing sign + house to find the qualities that likely need to be embraced.)

✽ Our 3H is how we speak, but our 2H is how our voice sounds - someone with a 3H Moon might speak with a soft inflection but if they have a 2H Mars, for example, the actual resonance of their voice may be quite loud or harsh. Princess Diana's Moon was in both her 2nd and 3rd house (looking at placidus + whole sign together) and she's famously very soft spoken - not only in expression, but also in the actual tone of her voice.

✿ Those with Chiron in the 1H are prone to viewing life through a negative lens, their pain informs their worldview more than most.

✽ Scorpio Venus/Pluto-Venus/Scorpio 5H love angst.

✿ Mercury-Venus aspects can indicate having a very classically beautiful voice. Jonathan Groff, who has Mercury exactly conjunct Venus, is a good example of this - under every interview I've seen of his are comments filled with people talking about how much they love his voice - not only his singing voice, but his normal speaking voice as well.

✽ Prominent 11H placements can attract an audience quite easily.

✿ Those with Jupiter-Mercury aspects tend to have a very funny way with words, something about the way they speak just tickles people. Ayo Edebiri, who has her Mercury sextile Jupiter, is a great example of this. Kate McKinnon as well (Mercury conjunct Jupiter). These individuals often have great comedic timing and aren't afraid to go big in order to get a laugh.

✽ Having Venus in or ruling the 4H can indicate a person being somewhat of a mediator within their family - always trying to keep the peace, encouraging family members to connect, etc. Family is very important to these people.

✿ 2H Moons love providing for others - cooking for people, gifting things, just generally making sure those around them are well taken care of. They'll do anything to bring comfort and safety to their loved ones, and often find a lot of emotional fulfillment in doing so.

✽ Capricorn Mars can be very presumptuous in that they think they're in charge no matter where they go. This can definitely get on people's nerves, but, in all fairness, if any placement deserves to be in charge it's probably this one - if nothing else, a cap mars knows how to get things done.

That's all, thanks for reading!

[euthymiya]

You believe in soulmates. Alhaitham does not. It’s not as though he loves you any less for his beliefs, but he certainly doesn’t entertain your baseless theories.

You’re determined to change his mind.

“What would you do if we never met?” You ask, staring up at him with your cheek pressed against his chest.

He glances down at you, sighing as he shakes his head. Here we go, he thinks silently. “I probably wouldn’t do anything, considering I wouldn’t know you existed.”

“You wouldn’t be sad?” You frown.

“How can I be sad about something that I don’t know exists?”

“Well, you could know of me,” you insist, “just because you don’t know me doesn’t mean you don’t know I exist.”

“In that case, I probably would not do anything,” he snorts. You don’t like that answer, glaring up at him as he adds, “I wouldn’t know what I’m missing if we never met.”

“You’re a real romantic, has anyone ever told you that?” You grumble. There’s a vibration of his chuckle through his chest, right under your cheek in a soft, rhythmic feeling that you’re so used to, you think it might be familiar from another life.

Over the course of the Akademiya’s years, there have been two prominent theories that have been debunked about soulmates:

1. The law of conservation of mass-energy states that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed—but only transformed. When a person dies, their body decomposes, breaking down into atoms that return to the earth, air, and water. These atoms then get recycled by nature, eventually becoming part of other living organisms, thus reincarnating from their previous life forms. It is possible, then, that two individuals could fundamentally be linked to reincarnate together from the same set of atoms in every lifetime.

It was later debunked by a scholar named Lamiya. Atoms themselves don’t retain information about where they’ve been or what they’ve been part of. They are interchangeable at a fundamental level, which means there is no difference between an atom in a human and a rock.

2. The heart and brain generate electromagnetic fields that extend outward from the body, with the heart’s field reaching several feet. Studies suggest these fields may be sensed by others nearby, subtly shaping feelings of comfort, attraction, and connection. It is possible that certain individuals’ frequencies may naturally align, creating a sense of harmony between electromagnetic fields, thus indicating that two individuals are naturally connected and could be labeled soulmates.

This theory was later disproven by a scholar named Dharmakirti. While human bodies do generate electromagnetic fields, there is no evidence that these fields influence interpersonal attractions or emotional resonance. Fields produced by the heart and brain are exceptionally weak and rapidly diminish with distance, making it unlikely they could be sensed or create harmony between individuals in measurable ways.

They fascinate you enough that Alhaitham pulls strings to allow you access to the archived files, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you how he scrunches his nose in distaste as he sifts through them himself.

Soulmates have no plausible evidence of existing, he argues.

Lots of things have no plausible evidence, yet they exist, you always argue back.

You like to think despite all the differences, you and Alhaitham are soulmates—that some form of you, outside of your physical bodies, exists for each other and each other alone.

You think it must be the case when your eyes seem to find his in a crowd without even trying. What are the odds that in a sea of people, they always happen to come across his by chance? And what other explanation would there be for the way he always seems to just know you’re staring at him while he sleeps every morning, waking up not too long after your eyes fall on his face in admiration? And how else would you rationalize the fact that you could tell his presence apart from anyone. You’re certain that if two bodies were standing behind you from a distance, your heart would know which one belonged to him.

Soulmates, you argue. That has to be the answer.

“I think we were always meant to meet,” you murmur quietly, tracing a finger along the pale skin of his chest. “Don’t you?”

“We’ve shared numerous classes together and have offices within within the same hall,” he states blandly, “I think the chances of not meeting would be rather improbable.”

“Or maybe,” you huff, “we were always meant to meet because we’re soulmates.”

“I think that theory has been sufficiently disproven—”

“You never know! We believe in the divine even if we’ve never seen them, haven’t we? Who’s to say Celestia aren’t fake—”

“The Archons have spoken of them multiple times, and The Gods, in fact, do exist for us to see, so I think we can trust—”

“Maybe Celestia decide soulmates,” you reason, raising a pointed brow at him, “how will you disprove that? There’s no evidence that they haven’t, and you can’t collect much evidence about them, so I think it’s safe to say that it’s possible.”

“But then it’s equally as safe to say it’s not possible by that logic, as well,” he says smugly.

“Fine,” you huff, glowering up at him through puffed cheeks, “I guess you’re just too stubborn to convince.”

“I’m not stubborn,” he argues (which he does quite stubbornly, you want to say), “I apply logic and reasoning to my theories. Which is why they are hardly disproven.”

“Do you at least think we’d be soulmates in another world if they did exist?” You ask hopefully.

He looks like he wants to argue about the likelihood of another world existing altogether—it irritates you enough that it pulls a frown on your face before you grumble a quiet forget it, shuffling out of his arms and turning away to face your back at him.

He chuckles, shaking his head. Something fond blooms in his chest, like a fresh padisarah in May.

“If,” he emphasizes as his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest once more, “if in another world we existed where soulmates were real, then yes. I do think it would be you and I.”

“Really?” You ask quietly.

“Yes,” he whispers. Suddenly, he sounds rather sure about a theory he never even believed in the first place.

“I wonder what we’re doing in that other world,” you hum thoughtfully.

He sighs, bringing the blanket back up to cover both of your bodies and mumbles, “I would hope we’d be sleeping at a reasonable hour before a work day.”

—————

Stay tuned for them being soulmates after all in another world *wink wink* ;)

[trippinsorrows]

in your hands + two

authors note: well, friends. we've done it again. this is going to be a short series. if you're unaware, it's yet another au based off "looking through your eyes."

need to catch up? read part one HERE.

warnings: fluff, angst and smut

words: 8k (don't ask)

“Remind me again what you know about this guy?”

It’s a valid question. One Solana has no answer to despite the understanding of and behind it.

She shakes her head, once again throwing aside another failed option for a dress, earning another look of disagreement from her best friend and older sister, Yolanda. 

Six years apart, while they weren’t the closest when they were younger, with Solana now being a mother and no longer just an aunt to her niece and nephew, she's found herself growing closer to her older sister.

Something about motherhood being a thing for both of them creating a bond. 

Not to mention, while they haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, in her hardest moments, Solana has been able to lean on her big sister. Hence why she’s packed up her daughter and a couple of different options for her date tonight with Roman and ventured over to her sister’s place.

It would have probably been easier for her to just invite Yolanda over to her apartment, but given that Trick, Solana’s brother-in-law, offered to swing by her place and pick her, along with Soraya staying with them for the evening, it just worked out better that way.

Plus, Yolanda has always been much better with makeup, fashion and things of the sort.

“His name is Roman, and he’s nice.”

Yolanda rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s so much.”

“He’s older.”

Yolanda’s gaze becomes a bit more suspicious. “How old?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. 30s.” The gray in Roman’s beard would indicate he may even be in his forties, but looks wise, he just doesn’t appear that old. He must work a stressful job. Has to be given how wealthy he appears. Rich people seem to always be stressed about one thing or another. Even if it’s a trivial matter that’s very much first world problems. 

Yolanda nods, clearly pleased by the answer, finding the age gap agreeable. “And how did you meet him?”

Solana shrugs. “I told you. At work.”

“At that uppity ass restaurant?”

Solana rolls her eyes, grabbing another dress off the bed. “The one that helps me pay my bills.” Barely. “Yes.”

Yolanda is dedicated to staying on this topic. “So, he just walked up to you and asked you on a date while you had Raya on your hip?”

Solana fiddles with the dress in her hand. “Not exactly…..”

She had to be pacing across her room for a good half hour, cell phone in one hand, folded piece of paper in the other. The little piece of paper that she found wrapped up with the stack of money given to her by Roman exactly three days prior.

A piece of paper with a seven digit number written on it. Dashes and all. A phone number.

His phone number.

She’s thought about it on and off for the past three days, too. Considered throwing it away, considered calling it, texting it even. So many options, and none seemed like the right one.

Why would a man like him give someone like her his number? While on a date, nonetheless? Granted, given from what she saw of their interactions on said date, Solana wouldn’t be surprised if it was the first and last.

And it’s not like there was a wedding ring on either of their fingers. 

So……

It’s why she acts based on that fleeting moment of courage, deciding to bite the bullet and dial the number while Raya sleeps peacefully in her crib. 

It takes another five minutes between the time she dials the number and when she hits send. Her heart is practically beating out of her chest at each daunting ringing on the other end. 

“Hello.” And right away, Solana is regretting her decision. He sounds irritated. 

“Hi.” She clears her throat. “Umm, I—”

“Solana?” And just like that, his tone has shifted into something entirely different. Kinder, almost.

“Yeah, ummm, is this a bad time?”

A deep chuckle on the other end of the phone. “No. Not at all.” It certainly doesn’t sound that way, but she’s not about to call him out on the incongruence. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

“Not if?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

She swallows. He’s so confident. “I—I just didn’t—I wasn’t sure if it was—it was an accident.” And as soon as it comes out, she’s slapping her face as she continues to wear a hole into the floor. What a stupid thing to say. 

Another deep chuckle. His voice is so damn sexy. “You think I accidentally gave you my number?”

“I just…..” A glance at the photo on her nightstand, one of the first photos taken of her and Soraya when she was born, triggers the elephant in the room. “I have a baby.”

“I’m aware.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” He doesn’t give her time to answer. “Look, I’m not a phone person. I prefer to discuss things face to face.” Solana’s stomach twists.“What are you doing Friday night?”

And the twisting intensifies, because there’s no way he’s asking her out?

He can’t be…..right?

She clears her throat, offering an answer that’s not entirely true but not entirely false either. “I—I have to work.” She technically hasn’t picked up the shift yet, but it’s bound to happen. Among other things. Catch up on schoolwork. Be a mom. Stress over bills. Nightly scheduled mental breakdown. The usual. 

“Not anymore,” he says it so easily, like it’s a simple thing that shouldn’t even need to be discussed. “I’ll give you whatever you make in a night.”

Solana laughs, waiting for him to also join in. He doesn't. “Shit, are you—are you serious?”

“Send me your address. I’ll have a car come pick you up.”

And that was all she wrote, hence how Solana ended up in the position she’s in now, readying for her date with a Mr. Roman Reigns.

A knock on the door interrupts her, Heaven, Solana's ten year-old niece walking in, her eyes lighting up when she sees the dress. "It's so pretty!"

Solana smiles, "thank you, baby."

Heaven's eyes crinkle with a sense of playful mischief as she walks over by her mom, sitting on her lap and asks, "are you going on a date?"

Solana and Yolanda share a laugh, the elder sister answering, "she sure is, Heav."

Solana readies to ask her niece a question when Heaven beats her to it. "Is he gonna be Raya's new dad?"

It's unexpected, as are a lot of questions for kids. But, it's still something that gives her pause, makes Solana sad for a second. Cruz doesn't need to be anyone's father. Raya isn't missing out on anything with him, but the innocent question does stir up some deeply rooted fears.

If Raya will suffer from growing up without a father at all?

Granted, it's hard for Solana to justify the alternative. Her father was in her life, and look how that turned out.

Yolanda is wise and helpful, redirecting her daughter, "baby, did you need something??"

Heaven is young enough to not see the innocent subterfuge, instead asking her initial question. “What time is grandpa coming over?”

Solana’s head snaps up as she looks at her sister through the mirror. Yolanda’s pretty face is painted in guilt as she clears her throat, quietly asking Heaven to complete some made up task, resulting in them being alone.

“Sola…..”

“Is he coming over tonight?”

“Sola—”

“Answer the question, Yolanda.”

Yolanda swallows, defeat overcoming her. “Yes.”

Solana scoffs, partially in disbelief, mostly pissed the fuck off. Shaking her head, she throws the dress down on the bed and grabs her bag, angrily stuffing them in said bag. “Forget it. I’ll see if Kayden can keep Raya.”

Yolanda’s shoulder drops as she shakes her head. “Solana, you’re being ridiculous. He’s our da—”

“Do not call him that,” Solana snaps. “He’s your dad. He’s nothing to me.” She continues to pack away the clothes, the sting of betrayal fueling her actions. “I can’t believe you would try this shit. You know I don’t want him meeting Soraya.”

She sighs, trying to explain herself. “I wouldn’t have let him—”

“Bullshit,” Solana cuts her off, swinging the bag over her shoulder. “When are you going to learn to respect my wishes? I don’t want anything to do with him! The same way he didn’t want anything to do with me!”

“You’re so dramatic. Acting like he was never there.”

“And you’re acting like he was father of the freaking year,” Solana snaps before scoffing bitterly. “Oh wait, he was. For you. It was just when I rolled around he decided he was done with fatherhood.”

Yolanda’s pretty eyes flash with a slice of guilt, but not enough to cause her to confess her wrongdoing. “Solana, he wants to make things right with yo—”

“Well, that’s too bad, because I don’t want anything to do with him,” Solana vows, gathering her bag of clothing that holds her wallet, her phone stuffed in the back pocket of her jeans as she walks out of the room, down the hall, and in TJ’s bedroom where the crib is.

“Hi, baby…..” Solana apologizes as she lifts a sleeping Soraya out of the crib, grateful when her sweet daughter remains asleep. Solana kisses the side of her head and bypasses her sister who stands in the hall, following her out and into the living room. 

Solana finds her brother-in-law sitting on the sofa, watching ESPN. 

“Trick, can you drop me off at Kayden’s place?”

Yolanda is behind her, frustration in her voice. “Solana, you’re being childish.”

Solana ignores her, focusing on her request. “Please?”

She sees the way Trick’s confused expression lifts from her to behind her, Yolanda most likely nodding to give him the sign off. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he shuts off the television and stands up. “Of course, sis.”

Solana mumbles a thank you and ops to stand outside and wait on the porch. She’s too livid with Yolanda to be around her right now. 

She just hopes and prays that this isn’t a bad sign for the evening to come.

—-------

Le Bernardin

A fancy, rich, upscale restaurant. The type where people pay thousands of dollars just for a reservation. Solana had actually applied for a job there, overhearing the pay was a fraction above minimum wage. Only for them to take one look at her and send her on her merry way, less than ten minutes into the interview.

So, it’s a bit of a full circle moment when the SUV pulls up in front of said restaurant, and she realizes the same place that turned her away as a waitress is exactly where she’ll be dining this evening. 

God really does have a sense of humor.

Solana is taken back yet again as she is escorted into the restaurant only to see it completely vacant. There’s a couple of workers, and….and him. 

Roman Reigns.

Somehow, someway, he looks different. Better than before. Bigger. If that’s even possible. 

The closer she gets to him, the more she takes in his appearance. Dress pants, nice shoes, short sleeved, dark blue shirt that hugs his bulging muscles. That beautiful hair pulled back into a bun. Expensive watch on his wrist. And eyes glued directly onto her.

Solana suddenly feels severely underdressed, regretting letting Kayden talk her into wearing the short orange dress and gold heels she eventually settled on after a good half an hour of going back and forth on options.

But, it’s when she’s directly in front of him, his lips curling into a smug smile that the second guessing wanes ever so slightly.

He looks far from disinterested. 

“You look even more beautiful when you’re all done up.” 

It’s hard not to smile at such a compliment coming from such a man.

“Thank you…..” She looks around, nervously gripping her clutch. “Are we the only—”

“I rented it out for us for the night.” Her eyes widening make him chuckle as he moves to pull out her chair for her. “You could say I’m a bit of a private person.”

Solana swallows, still confused but moving to sit down. “How…..how did you?”

“Money talks,” is his simple answer as he sits across from her, motioning for the men who escorted her in the restaurant to leave. “I’m glad you came.”

In a weird sort of way, she is too. Even if she’s not entirely sure why. “I—I wasn’t sure at first.” 

He looks curious. “Why?”

Shrugging, she pushes a string of hair that’s escaped her updo behind her ear. “That woman you were with…..”

Roman rolls his eyes. “She’s irrelevant.”

“Not irrelevant enough for you to not take on a date.” It comes out before she even realizes it. Solana slaps her hand over her face. “I’m so sor—”

“I’ve known her since I was a teenager. We…..mess around from time to time.”

Solana grows quiet. She gets it. He’s handsome. That woman was stunning. It makes sense that attractive people like to fuck other attractive people.

“But, she’s not….she’s not your girlfriend?” Because as handsome and nice as Roman seems, that’s one thing she could never do or get behind. Being the other woman.

“Not at all.” His answer is a lot more relieving than she’d like to admit. “So, can I ask about your daughter’s father?” He skips to the real question. “He still in the picture?”

Solana shakes her head, waiting for the waiter who just walked up to finish pouring the champagne before she answers. “No.” Solana takes a sip, eyes closing, missing the relief that flashes in his eyes. “He—he abandoned her and me.” 

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t necessarily sound it, but regardless, it doesn’t make a difference.

“I’m not,” she shrugs, being more honest than what’s characteristic for her. “He’s a piece of shit who left me when he found out I was pregnant, showed back up a month after she was born because he assumed I put her up for adoption and left again when he realized I was keeping her.” Solana ends on the bitter but honest note. “I’m glad he’s not in her life. He’d only end up hurting her.”

Flashbacks of her own daddy issues flood in, forcing her to confront the fact that she’s probably just overshared. A lot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re not wrong. Kids need stability.” He says it so easily, Solana wondering if there’s a story there. “How old is she?”

The question brings the smile back to her face. “11 months. She’ll be a year next month.” Solana can’t believe how time has gone by. It feels like only yesterday she was welcoming her sweet daughter into the world, and now she’s about to be one. Time truly does fly. “I’m sorry, I keep talking.”

“I think I could listen to you talk all night and never get tired.” Their eyes lock, Solana shifts in her seat. His gaze is intense and burning and has her cheeks reddening. “Tell me more.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

She looks away, briefly distracted, wondering just how much the chandelier above their table costs. Probably more than she’s even made in her working life. “I—I don’t know what to say. I’m—I’m 26. I—I have a child. An older sister. She’s married with two kids. I—I’m really close with my mom and my sister…..usually.” She chuckles, adding, “I work two jobs, and I go to school full time.”

He seems intrigued by that last part. “What are you studying?”

“I’m getting my masters in nursing, specifically for FNP. I wanna be a family nurse practitioner.”

“Will be,” he corrects, complementing, “that’s impressive.”

“Maybe.” If only she felt as sure as he sounds. Still, she's appreciative of the kind words and says as much. “Thank you. My—my mom is a nurse. My sister is an RN. Mami wanted to be an NP, but she got pregnant with me right when she started grad school and just couldn’t handle both, so she dropped out.” Solana swallows. “I want to do it for her. For me, too, of course. But her and Raya.” His slight confusion makes her smile as she clarifies, “Soraya’s nickname is Raya.”

Roman makes a sound, acknowledging, “your face lights up when you talk about her.”

The smile is unavoidable. “She’s my heart.” Emotion builds up as she finds herself sharing, “I had just moved back here from Cali when I found out I was pregnant with her, and it….it’s weird, but I—I needed her at that time. I needed her to help me heal.” Solana finds herself subconsciously rubbing at the horizontal scar on the palm of her right hand.

A battle scar.

Most of what she's shared with this man would probably rank pretty high up there on anyone’s list of shit not to say on a first date, probably cementing this being a one and done thing. And, it’s not intentional. At all. She just finds herself opening up to Roman in a way she hasn’t opened up to any man.

Ever.

And, it confuses the mess out of her.

If he's curious about the unspoken story, he doesn’t express as such, just offers her a path to deflection. “Well, I’m sure you have questions for me.”

She does. “What do you do?”

He smiles at her, and she feels her insides melting away. He’s such a beautiful man. “Business exec. I do buyout leveraging. I won’t bore you with the details. I’m also into real estate.” 

She nods, assessing the still vacant room, like she’s just waiting for other guests to arrive, even though he’s made it clear that won’t be happening. “I guess…..I guess you do well for yourself.”

He makes a face. “You could say that.” 

She’s most definitely saying that. 

“What about your family? Do you have any kids?”

“No kids. I have a twin sister. Parents are still alive, but that’s…..complicated.” 

Solana picks up on the almost tension that rises in him at the ending part, the way his eyes briefly dart away.

“I get that…..” Because she does. Oh, she does. “Are you close with your sister?”

Solana is relieved to see that pearly white smile return. “Depends on the day.”

She giggles. “I agree. My sister is my best friend, but she’s also a thorn in my side sometimes.”

“Is that who’s watching your daughter?”

“She was supposed to,” Solana chuckles, elbows on the table. “But, it ended up being a thorn day, so she’s with her godmother.”

He nods, asking, “what time do you need to be back?”

Solana starts to answer while pulling out her phone, “I put her down for bed a little early, so…..” Glancing at the time on the phone, seeing that it’s quarter to 7pm, she shrugs and shares, “I just need to be home by midnight.”

He makes a sound. “That’s a decent amount of time.”

Curious, she finds herself asking, “For what?”

“Whatever you want.” And it’s the way he’s looking at her, how his eyes briefly drop to her chest, the small smirk on his face that there’s definitely something he wants, too. “Or whoever.”

—-----

Straddling Roman Reign’s lap in the back of the SUV that’s currently driving them to his penthouse isn’t exactly how Solana pictured this evening playing out. Even if it was predicted by her annoyingly accurate best friend.

“Ten bucks says you get fucked tonight.”

It was laughable at the time. Solana has never been one to sleep around. Cruz was her first everything. First kiss. First boyfriend. First time. Hell, the father of her first child. She’s never been with another man except for him, never really saw it for or in her to try out different men.

It’s why Roman currently sucking on her neck as his big hand palms her ass through her dress has her thrown for a loop. This isn’t her. At all. And yet, there’s not a single part of her that wants to stop, wants to push him away, to tell him no.

She just finds herself smashing her lips back onto his, the two continuing to tongue each other down until they reach their destination.

His hand closed around her, Solana is trying to gather herself as he leads them into the building to the private elevator. The distraction of his lips on her pulling her from taking in the fact that this man seems to be surrounded by security. Men guarding the SUV as they walked in the building. Men in the lobby of said penthouse. Men in the restauraunt.

Just guards everyone.

Solana chalks it up to a rich people thing. 

Especially when she steps foot into his penthouse.

“Holy shit…..” The interior is dark and sleek. Some shades of red and blue strewn about. It all feels so expensive. “I can’t believe this is where you liv—”

“I’m not gon’ lie, I’m not listening to a damn thing you’re saying right now.” It’s a combination of brutal honesty and a strain of frustration, Solana turning around to see he’s inching towards her. “All I can think about is getting you naked and face down, ass up on my bed.”

She closes her eyes the minute he’s right before her, swinging his arm around her waist, yanking her to him. Solana has to crane her head up to look at him. He’s so damn tall.

The hungry look in his eyes is no doubt too different from the exact way she’s looking at him. He may want her, but she definitely wants him. 

Even if she doesn’t understand it. 

Even if a part of her feels slightly guilty for what’s about to commence. 

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that she wants this. 

It’s what has her licking her lips and saying so calmly. “So what are you waiting for?”

His smile is wicked, and she only has seconds to think about what she just welcomed into her. Figuratively and literally before he smashes his lips onto her.

Solana has only been kissed by a few men in her life, the majority of them coming from her daughter’s father. And it’s always been…..okay. Decent. Nice, even.

Kissing Roman, however, is none of those things. That hunger in his eyes is matched only by the passion in the way he kisses her, the way his full, pink lips move against hers, his tongue entering her mouth, toying around with her own.

It’s all so powerful and ravenous, and she finds her hands locking behind his neck at the same moment he hikes her up on his waist.

A gasp leaves her mouth, forcing her to break said kiss as he walks her to the back of his place, toward his bedroom.

“How…..” Never a small woman by any stretch of the imagination, especially since having Soraya, it’s a complete surprise the way he lifts and holds her like she weighs no more than a gallon of milk. 

Roman, however, is clearly still not interested in talking, because the moment they arrive in his bedroom, he has her up against the back of his door. His mouth is back on her with those hungry kisses that has her nails raking up the back of his neck, her thighs tightening around his waist. 

His breathing is uneven, his voice strained, and that hardening pressing in between her legs tells her just how badly he wants this too. 

“If you want to stop, you need to say something now.”

It’s the do or die moment. The epic moment of meeting at the crossroads. A part of her is screaming at her to get the hell out of this man’s place and back home where she belongs. With Soraya. Her daughter. Being the best mother that she can be.

But, another part of her, a stronger part of her, wants this, wants him. Because she always does the right thing. Or, tried to, at least. She’s certainly never allowed herself to indulge like this, so where’s the harm?

It’s like Kayden said.

Even woman should have at least one one night stand story. And who better to do it with than the man before her?

Solana’s answer is to press a teasing kiss against the base of his neck. “I’m not saying anything.....”

It feels like she’s barely able to get the words out when he’s carrying her over to the bed, sitting down with her still on top of him. He pulls back and motions for her to climb off. Standing in front of him, Solana watches how his gaze travels over her body before he demands, “take your clothes off. Slowly.”

It’s a strange, almost unfamiliar thing how easy it is for her to follow his instruction without a second thought. One minute her fingers are hooking on the thin straps of her dress, the next she’s squeezing herself out of it, all the while of his eyes never once leaving her.

Heavy breast freed, the only piece of clothing remaining on her is the soaked, black, lacy thong that keeps her cunt covered. 

Roman licks his lips and beckons her over, Solana wordlessly stepping close enough for him to tug her to him, his face buried in her chest. Her head falls back at the same time her mouth drops open as he starts a dangerous combination of kneading one breast while tonguing the other.

“Oh, fuck…..” Her hand is once again on the back of his head. “Roman…..”

“You better get used to saying my name.” He hikes her back on his waist only to flip them, so she’s laid back on the bed with his big, strong body covering her. “Cause it’s the only thing I want to hear for the next few hours.”

Her eyes widen at that, the word escaping her, “hours?”

Roman smiles, and it’s the best and worst thing in the world. So much mischief hidden behind those pearly whites. Carnal, salacious plans. “I like to fuck.” His gaze drops down in between her legs. “And eat.”

There’s a bit of anxiety that spurs the minute he starts dragging those luscious lips from her breast down her chest, his teeth pressing against her skin when he bites down on the band of her underwear. Solana’s hands grasp at the sheets as he uses his mouth to rid her of her final piece of clothing. 

Eyes darting open, she nearly loses it seeing him bring her panties to his face, his own eyes shutting as he deeply inhales and smirks. “I’m keeping these.”

She doesn’t have time to process how he tosses them to the side redirecting his focus to the dripping mess that is her cunt.

He makes a sound, going to pull his shirt over his head, moving to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Look at this pretty ass pussy. Already nice and wet for me.” His words do something to lessen her anxiety but not as much as she’d like. Getting head has always been a mid experience for her. Cruz was…..okay, nothing to be overjoyed about, and he always acted like it was an inconvenience whenever she asked him to return the favor. Not to mention the fact that he rarely, if ever, made her come from it.

Penetration was also hit or miss.

So, her expectations are pretty low up until that first lick of Roman’s thick tongue that has her nearly jumping off the bed. 

“Shit!” Her reaction is a bit embarrassing, most likely more than what’s necessary, but if he’s annoyed by it, he does a damn good job hiding it. 

He looks more turned on than anything. Roman’s long, thick fingers are suddenly playing with the mess she’s certain has already dripped on the soft sheets of his bed. “Lay back, and keep these legs open for me. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

More embarrassment with how quickly and fervently she nods her head, again falling back onto his big bed. Solana moans quietly when she feels his face completely submerged in her drenched cunt. 

“Roman…..”

He makes a sound followed by his fingers spreading her folds, revealing her swollen clit to him. “Sweet ass pusssy….” 

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue how she’s supposed to last these hours he’s referred to at least twice now based upon the fact that his mouth alone has her about to climax and tap out. It’s so unfamiliar and borderline inhuman how he works his tongue on and against her, exploring, licking and sucking every part of her that Cruz has somehow seemed to neglect her. 

She has her hand on the back of his head, fisting and undoing his bun, curls cascading around her fist as she presses his face deeper into her. 

It’s when he lifts his head, however, beard, chin and mouth soaked with her essence that she truly has to hold it together. “I changed my mind. I want you to watch me.” She’s not sure how and if she can do anything but, Roman’s dark eyes dropping back to her vagina. “Want you to see how good I eat this pussy…..” 

Good isn’t the word for it, because the methodical way he alternates between flicking, swirling, sucking, all the while playing with her, one finger, two fingers, moving in and out of her, needs to be studied by all men.

This is how you make a woman come, and she does. All over his face. Solana practically convulses as he laps up every bit of her essence, not once letting up, even as her orgasm rips through her. He’s still sucking on her clit, forcing her to push him away due to the overwhelming sensation of it all.

She’s partially discombobulated as his mouth finds her, letting her sample the remnants of her cum mixed in with their saliva as he taunts, “see how good you taste?” Solana is incapable of answering, among many other things. “Gonna eat you out all fucking night…..”

It’s a promise that has her clit throbbing. 

Not as much as it does watching Roman stand up at the edge of the bed and start to undo his pants. She’s unable to look away as he also rids himself of the remaining articles of clothing, her eyes basking in every rippling band of muscle that seems to make up his entire body. 

This man is beautiful and strong and ungodly perfect. It feels too good to be true.

But, it’s when he slides his boxers down, his member springing out with hunger and need that her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. 

“Oh….”

To be fair, Solana has only had sex with one man, so comparing dicks is a hard thing for her.

No pun intended.

It’s a hard thing, because it’s quite unfair and borderline cruel to even have Roman and Cruz in the same category.

Cruz barely scratches 5’7. 

Roman is well over 6ft tall.

Cruz is lean and lithe with some muscle and fat that he’s acquired over the years.

Roman’s muscles have muscles. 

Cruz dick is….average, probably a little under average.

Roman’s dick is massive.

The mushroom tip alone, pre-cum oozing through the slit, is enough to have her rethinking this whole thing. She’s not sure even that can get in.

“I don’t…..” And Solana is suddenly forced to endure the most awkward conversation of her life. “How is it supposed to fit?”

A probably silly question if not for the fact she’s genuinely concerned for the state of her vagina right now.

“It’ll fit.” Roman, however, seems unbothered, stroking himself for a minute before he instructs her. “Get on your hands and knees. Hold onto the headboard if you want.” Despite her newfound anxiety, she follows suit, Solana moaning as he glides his tip along her slippery folds. It’s baffling to her how wet she’s been and stayed for him, even with him already making her come once. This man’s presence alone is orgasm inducing. “You just gotta let me stretch this little cunt for you.”

Stretching is one thing. Ripping is an entirely different thing.

“Trust me.” He seems so sure of himself, and she’s not sure why she seems so sure of him too, nodding as she goes back to focusing on holding onto the headboard. A much needed source of support, clearly. 

Eyes closed, she hears the ripping of the condom package. Can imagine him sliding that thing over the massive, heated, turgid muscle weighing in his big hand.

She feels one hand gently gliding down her back, settling on her ass cheek where he gives her a little slap. “Just try to relax.”

Much easier said than done.

Still, she says nothing, eyes closing and head nodding. 

Now or never.

But, the minute his thick dickhead intrudes her tight opening, they’re both moaning in synchronization. It’s a burning, tight sensation on her part, maybe his as well, but there’s also something pleasurable about it? Something satisfying about the way he carefully works inch by inch of his girthy member inside of her, all the while praising her, goading her, talking her through.

“That’s it. Take this dick like the good girl you are.”

“Come on, baby. Open up for me.”

“Look at how this pussy yielding for me.”

It’s still a tight ass fit, and Solana is partially nervous about what the aftermath will look and feel like. Ice packs, crutches, and Tylenol seem to be in her near future. But, none of that matters once he’s fully seated in her, Solana trying to get used to the feel. So full and filing. 

That time of adjustment seems short lived, almost non-existent, because Solana’s body seems to have a mind of its own when she starts moving her ass back on him, prompting him to grab her hips as he starts to thrust into her.

“Shit, girl, knew this pussy would feel amazing, but I didn’t know it would feel this damn good.” His words are accurate and relatable, the discomfort gradually easing into something of pleasure. “Look how good you taking this dick.”

Eyes shut, Solana rocks her big ass back against him, whimpering when he brings hand down and slaps it. “Roman…..”

“That’s right. My name. It’s the only thing I wanna hear leave that pretty mouth of yours.” He intensifies the force of his thrusts, clearly encouraged by how she eagerly throws her ass back on his big dick. 

“Fuck, it’s so big…..” The biggest she’s ever had. The best she’s ever had. “But, it feels so good….”

“You like that shit, don’t you, baby?” He’s such a tease, taunting her, throwing in her face how good he’s beating her shit up. Solana hasn’t had sex in almost two years, not since before she found out she was pregnant, and this being her return to such a, now, wonderful thing is one hell of an experience. “Like how I’m stretching this pussy?"

“Fuck, I love it.” Because she does. Her knuckles are practically white from how hard she’s gripping the headboard, because it’s the only thing keeping her from screaming to the heavens. This man is a demond. “So good….”

Roman continues to fuck her from behind, backshots at different angles. Her head forced into the pillow. Hands on the headboard. Hands held behind her back. And each time causes her to reach a new level of heaven. 

But, it’s when Roman switches gears, repositioning them so she’s on top, Solana feels emboldened. Being on top with Cruz was always an uncomfortable thing, mostly because he would make comments about her being “too heavy” to ride him.

With Roman, all the man he is, it’s not a concern in the slightest. 

She bounces on top of his god-tier dick without a fucking care in the world. 

And he seems to feel the same. 

“That’s it……” She can feel his eyes burning into her as she rocks down on him, her big breast bouncing back and forth. “Ride my dick just like that, baby. Take what you need.”

And taking is exactly what she’s doing, because if this is a once in a lifetime chance to be fucked, thoroughly fucked by a man like Roman Reigns, she’s going to ride it until the wheels fall off. 

Some pun intended.

Roman growls, big hands pressing into her meaty hips. “He can’t never fuck you like this, fill you up like I can.” His lips are hot and pressured against the neck. “He can’t do shit for you that I can.”

She knows exactly who he’s referring to, and not a single lie is being told. “Little ass pussy squeezing the hell out of my big dick.” She moans, pulling his hair as he sucks on her tits, stopping only to again tease her, “you like that shit don’t you?”

She doesn’t stop, just professes all of the wonderful things he and his equally wonderful member are doing for her. “I love it. Fuck, I love it.”

“That’s all you needed. Someone to fuck you nice and right.” Again, it seems this man is incapable of lying, Solana hissing as he squeezes her ass cheeks while his tongue plays with her areola. “Take that stress all out on me, baby. Let me relax you.”

There’s something inherently stressful and relaxing with the way she can’t seem to find the space between reality and fantasy, with how he’s giving her a form of escape she never thought possible. Guiding and talking her to that beautiful point of release. A place she’s never been able to reach before.

Not like this. 

Never like this.

And Roman is perceptive, he can see it. Big hands moving up her back, holding her against him, guiding her on top of him. “Come for me, baby.” It’s less a command and more a plea, his voice almost desperate. “Wanna feel you come undone all over me.”

“Mio Dios!”

Solana is squeezing him, her nails pressing into his skin, her head in the crook of his neck as she comes, hard, heavy, overwhelmingly beautiful and chaotic. And his release comes shortly after, Solana enjoying the sensation of his strong, hulking body against hers, the way his face shifts into something so sensual and perfect as he jerks up into her, emptying into the condom.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, just long enough for her to start feeling him go soft inside her. That’s when he eventually and carefully lifts her off and lays her down on the mattress, Solana panting and staring at the ceiling. She feels the dip in the bed as he gets up, obviously to dispose of the condom.

It’s only then she realizes that the absence of him inside of her is….noticeable.

A tiny bit of her eager to have it again. To have just one more taste of that deliciousness. 

Even if she probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

Or ever.

Roman returns to the room, completely unbothered by his nakedness. She readies for him to climb back in the bed with her, maybe even ask her to leave. 

But, he doesn’t. 

No, he instead moves back to his previous spot at the edge of the bed. Grabbing her by her calves, he starts sliding her down. 

“I told you.” Her pussy flutters as he spreads her thighs, face to face with her swollen, puffy pussy. “I’m gonna make the most of the time we have.” And Solana is already moaning, already anticipating another round of insurmountable pleasure. “Starting with you coming in my mouth at least three more times…..”

—-------

It’s a strange, unexpected experience for a lot of different reasons. One, Roman has never really been one to let women ‘stay’ the night. He gets his nut, she gets her, and he sends her on her merry way.

And while Solana isn’t staying the night, she remains in his bed. And not just for sex. He gets her to come again in his mouth twice more before she pushes him away, citing that she needs a break. 

He gives her that, but what happens next is….unexpected, to say the least. 

Pillow talk. 

It’s fucking pillow talk that’s started by her simply running her fingers along his tattoos, asking what they mean and represent. That’s followed up with him asking her about her tattoos, which leads into literally hours of them just laying in bed….talking.

No sex. 

Just…..conversation, and normally, Roman would shy away from such a thing like the plague. It’s just never been his thing. 

But…..with her…..it’s different.

He enjoys hearing her talk, the things she shares with him, the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, how her eyes light up when she discusses her daughter with so much adoration and love. He enjoys her presence, the fact that she treats him like…..like he’s normal.

Like he’s not who he actually is, a large part of that being because she doesn’t know who he is, and that probably needs to change. Will change. Just not right now.

He just wants to enjoy having someone to talk to, and it’s easy with Solana. He doesn’t have to second guess motives or intentions or wonder about what kind of hint she’ll drop about wanting something materialistically from him like Sam.

It’s just easy.

So much so that he ends up having a bit of a hard time with letting her out of bed as 11:20pm rolls around, with her once again reminding him that she needs to be home by midnight. He understands it though, respects her dedication to putting her daughter first.

It’s still a bit of a drag for him, a sense of almost disappointment that she can’t spend the night.

Again, wholly out of his norm. 

When they pull up in front of the apartment complex, he finds himself asking, “this is your friend’s place, right?”

The driver has just opened the door for her, but she looks back over her shoulder before climbing out. “Yes, why?”

Roman waits until they’re both standing outside, as he pulls her close to him, enjoying the sight of her wearing his jacket around her body. “Do you need me to take ya’ll home?”

With a soft smile that has him thinking once again about how soft her lips feel pressed against his, she answers, “no, we’ll just stay the night here. It’s late. I don’t want to disturb Raya.”

It’s also way too late for her to be on the road, let alone on public transportation with a baby, hence why he offered.

Pleased with at least that, Roman shares without much thought, “I want to see you again.” And again. And again. And again. Her presence is…..calming in a way he’s not used to.

But, he could certainly get used to. 

Mischief sparkles in her pretty eyes. “See me again or see me again?”

“Both.” It’s an honest answer, and Solana knows that. Can see that while he probably desires her sexually as much as she does him, it’s also something different. Something deeper.

It has to be for her to lay in bed with him for hours just talking.

But, she also knows something else, something that she can’t and won’t negate. “Roman, I—I have a child. I can’t—I can’t just sleep around with you like that. I can’t do friends with benefits.”

“I’m not asking you to.” And the honesty continues as he pushes back some of her hair. “I’m just asking you to give this a chance.”

The word this has her stomach tightening as well as the way he’s looking at her. With such authenticity. The same way she’s probably looking at him.

Solana’s volume dips as she shares with just as much honesty. “Soraya is my number one priority.”

He nods. “I respect that.” 

“She comes first.”

“She should.”

Solana grows quiet. It’s hard to find a reason to disagree with someone who’s being so amenable, and really, what would be her basis for disagreeing? She’s grown. He’s grown. He’s acknowledging that he recognizes her daughter will always come first. What more does she really need?

What reason does she have to not give this a chance?

“If we do this….” She takes a deep breath, fingers grasping at the soft material of his shirt. “You can’t be with anyone else. You can’t be sleeping with random woman while you’re fucking me.”

Because she went through that once. Ignored the signs because she wanted to be happy.

Never again.

Especially not when it comes to her health. 

There’s a bit of hesitation on Roman’s end that she partially understands. She highly doubts this was his first one night stand. “That’s fair,” he finally agrees.

Solana can’t hide her surprise at him not throwing the same stipulation back at her. “You don’t want me agreeing to the same thing?”

Roman chuckles and pulls her into him,“ nobody else could fuck you like I can. You know where it’s at. This the only dick you're gonna ever want now.”

Her cheeks are flushed. “You’re arrogant.” 

But not wrong.

And he voices as such. “It’s not arrogance if I can back it up.” She can’t find it in her to disagree or to call him out, because again, there is no disagreement. “I wanna see you this Friday.”

She can’t deny the small spark of excitement at his offer before the weight of reality sets back in. “I was gonna pick up a shift, Roman…..”

He shakes his head, offering, “I’ll give you whatever you’d make on average.” Solana’s eyes widen a bit. It’s one thing that he already snuck a stack of money in her purse when she was redressing to leave. It’s another for him to continue to offer to financially supplement what she would miss out on by being with him.

“Roman, you can’t…..” That’s trailed off by another realization, even if there is still a small smile on her pretty face. “I don’t think I can get a sitter again.”

Another shrug as he says so plainly. “Bring her.” The horrified expression on her face makes him chuckle as he explains, “we won’t fuck. We can go out to eat again and then back to my place. Now, if she happens to fall asleep and we have some time…..”

Solana’s smile remains as he drops his hand to her ass, palming it, reminding her that this man really did keep her underwear. “You’d be okay with that?”

He explains so calmly. “You have a daughter. I’m not going to pretend she doesn’t exist. If we’re going to see where this goes, she has to be included, too.”

It takes her by surprise. The way he’s so easily going along with this. For some reason, Solana always imagined re-entering the dating world would be stressful given her dedication to always putting her child first. Most men these days don’t get that or aren't trying to “deal” with that. And then there’s Roman.

So…..easy.

It’s nice. Very nice. 

“How about this?” She moves her hands up his chest, feeling how he tugs her even closer. “We can go grocery shopping, and I’ll cook dinner for us.”

Roman smirks, looking down at her. “I got you cooking for me already?”

She giggles, reminding him. “I like to cook. It has nothing to do with me wanting to do anything for you.”

“Hmm. That’s fine. There’s a lot of different things I wouldn’t mind doing for you.” She sighs against him as he squeezes her ass again. “Especially to you.”

Solana can’t say she would be opposed to that.

Either of them.

Finally breaking away, she acknowledges, “I need to get inside.”

“Mmmm.”

Her smile is stapled at this point. “Goodnight, Roman.”

His eyes flicker with something. "Goodnight, Solana." She's walking up the steps when she remembers his jacket. Shuffling back over, she attempts to take it off, only for him to reach out and stop her. "Keep it. It's yours." Finger to her chin, Roman rubs his thumb along her still swollen bottom lip. "Just like you're mine now....."

[ssentimentals]

Hi me again! Sorry I wanted to make another request if possible! Vernon - suggestive prompt #5

Thank you!!

hi again :) no worries at all, thank you for requesting 💜 hopefully you’ll like it!

suggestive prompt 'does it make you nervous when i stare?'

vernon hisses, when joshua elbows him right in the ribs. 'what?'

'you're doing it again,' joshua whispers. 'the weird staring thing. stop.'

vernon blinks, quickly turning to check if you noticed anything. your head is turned towards the professor, but red tips of your ears indicate that you've definitely noticed his staring. vernon huffs a laugh, earning himself a glare from every student nearby, all trying their best to hear what professor is saying. vernon should be paying attention too, but this lecture is boring and you are so beautiful, how can he not get distracted? his eyes track every part of your face again and again, because he can and because he can never get bored just staring at you. the fact that you are his girlfriend surprises him to this day and sometimes he even forgets about it, which results into him looking at you like you're unreachable and way out of his league. apples of your cheeks redden and vernon chuckles, knows that you can feel his stare and even when he does nothing else, you still blush at this attention. he is ready to risk it all and stand up and go to you, when professor thankfully finishes the lecture, repeating again something about the homework. vernon doesn't listen and skips straight to you, waving goodbye to his friends.

'vernon,' you start, when he comes close and grabs your bag. 'can you at least pretend to listen?'

'don't come to the class,' vernon replies easily, holding a door for you. 'then i won't get distracted.'

'very mature to put all the blame on me,' you say, rolling your eyes but your tone is fond and vernon knows you're not actually mad. 'at least don't always stare like that.'

vernon switfly wraps his hand around your waist and pushes you lightly to the nearest wall, bracketing you against it with his body. your eyes widen at this and your hands find their home on his chest, but you're not pushing him away, not yet. vernon grins: 'stare you how?'

god, he loves your blush. he wants to bite your cheeks when they redden, wants to squish you two together so you become one. how can he pay attention to anything, when you are this impossibly cute? 'does it make you nervous when i stare?' he presses, smiling.

'vernon,' you call in a shaky voice, trying to laugh it off but the way you're biting your lower lip right now gives you away. 'stop.'

vernon tsks, leaning closer. 'i don't think you want me to.'

it's natural to kiss you. it's crazy that this action is natural for him, but vernon is not someone who lets gifts of fate pass him by. oh no, he's not that stupid. he knows what to do when universe grants him you as a gift for whatever he did in his past life - he knows that the only right action is to hold on and never let go.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Holiday Blues - Wade Wilson x bunny mutant!Reader x Logan Howlett

A/N: *deep breath in; deep breath out* there are so many things about this fic that I despise. I want to put so many disclaimers about bad writing or sloppy endings or heavy angst. But I said I’d post it if there was interest so here we are. However, THIS IS NOT MY BEST WORK!!! I really just wrote it as a way to channel my anxiety, so if it’s shitty or just bad I won’t be surprised

No taglist for this one

Reader is vaguely implied to be ftm trans during one paragraph of the fic. But it also can be read as a cis male!Reader too

There are a lot of internalized feelings in this, some toxic masculinity, and other uncomfy things. Please read all the warnings and take them seriously before reading

Also, very important. While it’s never directly stated in the fic, I wrote this Reader based off my experiences with RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria). However, there’s a lot more going on with me than just that, so I do have to say this is only indicative of my experiences, not experiences with this as a whole. Other things may have crept in as well, simply by the nature of basing this off of me

CW: Reader is dating both Logan and Wade; Reader loves the holidays; Reader comes from a family with holiday traditions; Logan comes off as a bit rude, but it’s for reasons I don’t elaborate on; Reader is a bunny mutant; Reader is sensitive to rejection; Reader spirals fast in this; angst; anxiety; panic; hiding; Reader is hit with a lot of emotions all at once; negative thought spirals; internalized emotions; toxic masculinity moments; crying; humiliation; shame; guilt; Reader’s family is mentioned as a guilt trip; comfort seeking; more shame; there’s lots of shame in this one; prey instincts contributing to the negativity; hugging; comfort; problems are not addressed; Reader bounces back fast; Wade gets Reader’s brain; Wade has implied mental health issues as well; soft moments; quick ending; mild allusions to sexy things; god this reads so bad; okay, here are my disclaimers: bad writing, vent writing, fast-paced writing, sudden ending, and highly-charged emotional states from the Reader

1641 words

It’s no secret among your boyfriends that you love the holidays. Any chance you can get you’re constantly hanging up decorations, planning parties, and preparing food,

It’s some of the few times a year you truly come alive when doing something. It’s your time of the year. Holidays have always been your thing.

It’s tradition, from growing up in your burrow. Everyone would help out, making the holidays a time of family fun and chaos and celebration.

So when you come home to Wade decorating your apartment, you immediately want to help. You’ve barely taken off your sweater before you’re bouncing up to him. “What can I do?”

He gives you a grin, gesturing to the kitchen. “Ask Wolvie. He’s been baking all day.”

It both excites and confuses you. You’re not hosting any parties or going to an event today. So what’s going on?

Still, you head into the kitchen. Logan’s working on a pie, carefully making a beautiful lattice of crust on top.

You place a kiss on his cheek. “Can I help?”

“Ask Wade.”

His answer is short. Quick. To the point. Almost brusque even. You know he’s just concentrating, but it still makes you falter. “Um… alright.”

You head back to Wade, but he just gives you a shrug. “Sorry, handsome, but I think we got it.”

You stand there for a moment before nodding and heading into the bedroom.

You sit on the bed, staring at your hands. Normally, you’d just brush off their responses and find something else to do. But it’s the holidays. You’re supposed to be out there helping.

Their rejection of your help hurts more than you care to admit.

But it’s stupid. It’s just decorations and food. They’ve got it all covered.

You try to tell yourself that, but the hurt still wells up in your chest. You can feel it rising, making your breathing quicken. You grip one of your bunny ears, stroking it in an attempt to calm yourself down. It’s what Wade always does.

Maybe you did something to offend them? Or maybe they were trying to surprise you and you ruined it by coming home early?

You try to think of anything and everything as a reason for their dismissals. It has to be something. It has to be.

Anxiety spikes in your chest and you burrow under the covers. It feels comforting, like you’re back in your home warren for a moment. You curl into a ball, tucking your knees to your chest.

You count your breaths, struggling to slow the beat of your heart. But it’s no real use. The wave of emotions is already here. It crashes into you, drowning you in reasons why and what you did wrong. Over and over, your thoughts spiral.

Your eyes prickle, but you refuse to cry. The only thing worse than feeling like this is having Wade and Logan think you’re dumb for it. You’re a man. You can handle it.

You press your palms to your eyes, but the wetness still seeps out. You can handle it. You can handle it. You can handle it.

You don’t sob. Thankfully. You just cry in silence. Stuttered breaths in and out. In and out. It feels humiliating. You, crying while your boyfriends decorate.

You should be better than this. You should be better than this now. What would your family think if they saw you crying instead of celebrating?

That thought only adds to the shame in your chest and you scrunch up even tighter. You’re not some dumb flopsy bunny anymore. You’re a rabbit. A man. Crying is for flopsy bunnies.

The thoughts continue. Eventually, your silent crying turns to soft hiccups. Your tears dry up, leaving your eyes puffy and itchy.

You don’t get up until you hear the timer ringing in the kitchen. Logan’s pie is done. You can smell it. Apple. Your favorite.

Slowly, you uncurl yourself. You crawl out from beneath the blankets. You change into a pair of boxers and one of Wade’s sweaters. Your comfort outfit. You know it’ll be a tell that something’s wrong, but you need the safety of the fabric.

You open the door to the bedroom and shuffle out. No Wade. You hear him in the kitchen.

You take a moment to use the bathroom. To stare dully at your reflection in the mirror and splash water on your face to try and reduce the puffiness. It… sort of works.

Wade’s knock on the door has you startling. “Oh, bunny boy! Dinner’s ready!”

You flinch, curling into yourself a little. They’re gonna know you were crying. They’re gonna know you were upset over something so stupid. They’re gonna think you’re dumb.

You’re shaking as you open the door. You know it’s your prey instincts. Programmed to carry you away, to keep you safe from any harm. But that doesn’t make it feel any better.

Wade blinks at you as you emerge. His whole body seems to soften. “Hey… What’s wrong?”

He’s always so soft with you whenever you’re upset. Occasionally silly, but so soft. Sometimes you love it. Right now it just makes the pit of guilt in your chest bigger.

“Nothing…” you mumble.

He frowns, but pulls you into a hug. It helps. It loosens the ball of shame, slowly soothing it apart. You take a deep breath and hug him back.

“Everything alright?” Logan, from the kitchen doorway.

You think Wade gives him a look, or maybe he just picks up on the clothes you’re wearing. Either way, you’re enfolded in another set of arms.

“Hey, bunny. What’s wrong?” Logan’s often gentle too. It helps you relax the last bit of the way, the knot in your chest finally unraveling.

“Just… my brain…” You’re now more embarrassed than anything. Why would they think you’re dumb? They’ve always been understanding and loving, especially with you.

Wade strokes one of your bunny ears, the action immediately calming your frayed emotions. Bringing back your peace of mind. “Being a bully again, huh?”

You nod.

Logan rubs your back, his touch gentler than normal. “Was it something we said?”

Damn his perceptiveness. You were hoping to get out of this without an explanation.

You sigh and rest your forehead on Wade’s shoulder. “I just… I wanna help too…”

There’s a moment of silence, then Wade hums. “You can wrap the gift I got Wolvie. It was supposed to be a surprise, but it’s the last thing to do.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your entire self perks up at the idea. You grin, already straightening up. “You mean it? I can help?”

Logan chuckles while Wade matches your grin. “Absolutely, handsome! But first…”

He takes your hands and gives them a squeeze. “Let’s eat. You’ll feel much better once you have food in you. The surprise can wait for later.”

Logan agrees and you give in quickly.

Dinner goes by fast and soon you’re in the bedroom again, this time with a box and gift wrap in your hands. You focus on wrapping the present as Wade sits on the bed. Logan’s busy with food clean up, bustling away in the kitchen.

“We'll always love you,” Wade says, startling you from your task. You look up at him. “What?”

“Whatever your brain says while you’re upset. It’s not true.” He looks at you intently. “We love you.”

You swallow and look down. With anyone else, you’d protest. But you know him. You know him. He’s speaking more than just to comfort you right now.

“I love you too,” you say quietly. “Even on your bad days, I love you too.”

His shoulders relax but his gaze stays on you. He doesn’t say anything more though. He just watches you. It’s a little intimidating, but you let him.

You finish wrapping the box and place a nice big bow on the top. “Done.”

Wade smiles. His expression soft once more. It relieves a burden off your shoulders in some way. Some lingering guilt or whatever weighing you down.

You love him. He loves you. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know he gets your mind almost as well as you do. He struggles with his brain too.

You hold out the box to him, a silent acknowledgment of each other in the air. He takes it, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re adorable in my sweater, you know that?”

It pulls a laugh out of you, lightening the air. “Yeah. I know. Why do you think I wear it all the time?”

He smiles. “Careful, buns. You know how your sassiness gets me going.”

You roll your eyes and grin. “Yeah, yeah.”

You eye the wrapped box in his hands, a spark of curiosity in your mind. “What’s in there anyway? And what’re we celebrating in the first place?”

Wade smirks. “We’re celebrating us. And this?” He shakes the box a little. “This is for later. Consider it my gift to you and Wolvie.”

Celebrating us. The idea warms you like nothing else. Nothing else seems to matter except that. They planned a small thing just to celebrate you and them.

You lean in and kiss Wade. “Thank you. For all of it.”

He softens despite himself, his smile turning warm. “Hey, don’t thank me yet. Wolvie still hasn’t opened his gift yet. Thank me then.”

But he seems to understand. For a moment. Before he smacks your ass lightly and points towards the kitchen. “Let’s go, buns. The Readers and Wolvie can’t wait for the ending forever.”

You blink, but don’t question his words. He’ll explain eventually. For now, you’re just ready to enjoy some pie and find out what’s in Wade’s gift.

After all, knowing him, it’s probably something raunchy. And you could do with something a little stronger than cuddles.

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won’t Let Go

Shower Shenanigans

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 2.7k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie!AU, sexual tension, masturbation

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It’s still dark out. You feel heavy, limbs weighted down in a way that has nothing to do with your pregnancy and everything to do with the furnace beside you in bed and the heady sensation of comfort rolling over you in waves.

The cold nipping at you has been such a constant you barely notice it until now with its distinct absence.

You’ve never been one to fret over waking in the middle of the night. You know at some point you’ll fall back asleep so blessedly avoid the oh god why can’t I sleep why am I awake cycle that inevitably keeps people up at night.

Despite being separate when you drifted off to sleep, at some point in the night the chill of incoming winter chased the pair of you together under the covers.

You’re on your left side, John behind you with his arm draped across your belly and something at your lower back.

Hello.

Turns out his overall stature and general demeanor isn’t the only thing about him that’s imposing.

There’s a flicker of interest, a small flame that you try to tamper down immediately out of shame and embarrassment.

You’re pregnant, for God’s sake and he’s asleep. Nothing about this is intentional on his end.

You’re just a hormonal cocktail going through dick withdrawals. He’s not interested. This is the kind of bullshit that got you pregnant in the first place.

David- the man who got you into this mess because you most assuredly did not impregnate yourself- had rapidly lost interest once you started to show, and you’ve been focusing on the whole not dying thing so your libido has taken a backseat for the last while.

Hard to worry about rubbing one out with death looming overhead at every turn.

But now?

You’re safe and fed and warm and tucked up against a man who absolutely would turn your head in another life.

You’re being fucking delusional. He’s doing the right thing- the kind thing by trying to take you back with him. Nothing more. Soldiers are supposed to protect civilians, that’s their whole job (you also may or may not be delusional about the moral soundness of someone paid to follow orders and kill on command, but hey, you’re not exactly spoiled for choice here).

He’s just doing his job.

If you were alone in your own bed, perhaps you’d give into the urge to run your fingers across your thigh and reach between your legs- with some effort and wriggling.

Then again, if you were in your own bed you wouldn’t have John’s morning wood pressing against your lower back, so it’s entirely plausible your libido wouldn’t have been reignited.

You try to shift a bit towards the edge of the bed- give yourself some breathing room so you can clear your head and stop being silly.

It doesn’t go well at all.

John seems to be a clingy sleeper. The moment you gain any real space between you his reaction is immediate. The arm draped across your belly locks against you immediately, his other arm looping under and around your neck loosely to pull you back against him.

Surely he must be awake- there’s no way he can react this strongly in his sleep.

He gives absolutely no indication. There’s a short, irate huff as his nose presses against the nape of your neck and reaffirms his hold on you, and then he’s back to snoring lightly in your ear. And little John is right back to pressing against the small of your back.

Well shit. So much for that plan.

You have little option other than to deal with it (or wake him up- you don’t exactly want to go down that particular rabbit hole, however), squirming with the realization that you are wet and trapped and unable to do anything about either.

Despite being clung to and held hostage, you manage to do the only thing that you can in this situation and fall back asleep.

When you wake up John is gone.

It is still warm under the blankets but you have very limited patience to see if he just slipped away for a moment and is coming back soon- Especially with your kid sitting on your bladder.

You can hear him moving around downstairs, so it appears that this part of your routine will not be changing. He leaves you to sort yourself out in the morning in your own time, and waits to bring you down the stairs after you've finished in the bathroom.

Before things went to shit, you were a big fan of hot showers. Nowadays you’re just grateful to have access to running water and you don’t mind the cold near as much as you thought you would. But gone are the days of lingering under the spray and enjoying the heat while you dissociate about work. Now showers are what they always were supposed to be- a measure to get yourself clean. Get in, get done, get out.

You really must be a hormonal cocktail going through withdrawals, however, based on the mess between your legs as you clean yourself up.

Maybe if you just handle it yourself you’ll calm down and stop feeling like a cat in heat.

As your hand moves between your legs, you try to keep an ear out for John.

That somehow he’ll just know that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be, and come to investigate it.

You’re grateful for the water muffling you- the way your breath hitches before a shaky exhale as soon as you touch yourself. Provides some sort of insulation incase John comes to check on you, although you don’t plan on being particularly loud.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you, including yourself.

There’s a fair bit of maneuvering on your end, trying to find the pose that will best let you get between your legs while standing under the cold spray.

You get it figured out, need and practice having you working yourself up in no time at all.

Back before things went tits up, you had the comfort of your bedroom, a variety of toys, and whatever erotica or porn suited your fancy at the time.

Now, you don’t have more than your imagination but find it to be perfectly up for the task.

At first you’re not thinking much about anything- just enjoying the sensations as you circle your clit. Your other hand reaches to grasp and tease one of your nipples.

Despite the cold water your body is flush and warm between your legs. All the bloodflow heading south.

You can feel the coil tightening in your belly as you work yourself up.

It’s like you hit a plateau though, or a proverbial wall. The pleasure doesn’t fizzle out or taper off but it just won’t quite go where you want it to. Just the physical stimulation isn’t enough to get you off.

You’re numb to the cold, mind wandering as you mentally tab through recollections of your prior go-to fodder, or previous encounters with partners who’d known what they were doing and had done their jobs properly.

That helps, but still isn’t quite enough.

Christ, this is taking too long now. John knows how long you shower for. He’s going to notice if you don’t hurry up.

The thought of John catching you sends a jolt of electricity straight to your pussy.

You absolutely do not want him walking in on you. But the thought of his voice purring low in your ear as he praises you, big hands roaming the expanse of your body as he guides you exactly how he wants you- gruff and taciturn with his orders-

That does the trick, grabbing you by the back of the neck and hurdling you across the finish line.

And God help you, you’re not sure if it’s simply because of how long it had been since you last had any sexual gratification, or if the captain really just has that much of your attention- but the orgasm that rips through you is enough to make your knees buckle.

You’re no stranger to handling your own pleasure but it’s not often you literally make your own legs shake.

You are struck rather quickly with the realization that if you do not sit down, you are going to fall down.

It’s far from graceful, but you manage to land as gently as you can, given the situation.

You’re dazed, completely unrelated to the fall. Good God you’ve been in dire need of relief to have this strong of a reaction to getting yourself off.

Reality comes knocking at the door amid your post masturbatory bliss. The cotton pulls away from between your ears, and the cold settles on you about the same time.

If you don’t hurry up and get yourself dried and dressed, there’s no way John isn’t going to come looking for you.

You reach forward and fiddle with the taps to turn off the water. What you can’t quite do is bring yourself to stand just yet.

You’ll sit for a second and then try to get up. The cold biting at you proves to be an excellent motivator to try soon, as well as the porcelain of the tub. It’s not exactly comfortable so you have no intention of staying here all day.

Just as you take a breath to psych yourself to get your legs back underneath you, the sound of John’s knuckles rapping against the door breaks the silence.

“You plan on coming out sometime today, Love?”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” You hope your voice doesn’t sound too pitched like a child who definitely just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“In your own time, then,” he huffs from the other side of the door and you can just see the pinched expression on his face through the wood. Thankfully though you hear the floorboards creaking as he steps away from the bathroom.

Pleased with yourself that you’ve successfully managed to deter him, you decide now you’re ready to tackle the hurdle of getting back up.

A very pregnant woman on her ass and a wet bathroom does not make for a very good situation, unfortunately.

You’re not very far out of a sitting position when one of your feet slips. It’s a stretch to call it a fall, really. You’re fine.

But when your foot slips, on reflex you move your arm to catch yourself and bang your elbow. The immediate tingling and accompanying unpleasantness is just the old it’s not very funny when you hit your funny bone, but you can’t stifle the reflexive “God fucking damnit” from escaping you unprompted.

There’s no telling which of those was the first to catch his attention, but you hear the floorboards protest his return to the door. “What was that?”

Ah, shit.

“Nothing!” You know your tone isn’t very convincing now, stress pitching it up an octave.

There’s a silence that stretches just long enough that you think maybe- just maybe- that John is going to leave you be.

That thought is dashed immediately when he simply states, “I don’t believe you. I’m coming in.”

“John, no!” You immediately protest. “I’m-” the door opens, his focus on the air space your head would be occupying if you weren’t currently on your ass. “-fine,” you finish lamely as his gaze drops to yours.

The look of are you fucking kidding me is scrawling across his face so plainly it might as well be written in sharpie.

“What the hell happened?” He demands, taking the two strides required to get to you.

“I’m fine!” You protest again (from the ground). “I got dizzy and sat down so I wouldn’t fall.” Not entirely untrue, and mollifies John enough that now his expression is just one of being disgruntled.

While he’s probably just deciding what to do with you, you’re keenly aware of the fact that you are wet and naked and on the floor with him towering over you. It doesn’t do you any good in the slightest but try to draw your limbs up in an attempt for some form of modesty.

“Right,” he seems to have come to a conclusion for how he wants to proceed, “let’s get you back on your feet and dried off before you catch your death.”

Only way out is through, you suppose.

You really, really, really wish he would just turn around and leave so you can salvage your dignity in solitude, but you can also just tell that that isn’t going to be an option. He’s not going to leave you until he’s satisfied you haven’t busted your ass too severely (you didn’t, but you also know it’s a lost cause to try to convince him).

He really does have quite the imposing figure, even as he kneels down to your level to better get a hold of you.

You almost ask for a towel- something for some sort of modesty, some sort of barrier between your wet, naked, vulnerable body and the very man you were thinking about that got you in this scenario to begin with.

Pragmatically you realize it’s not a great idea. It won’t wrap fully around you to cover everything anyway, and your attention should be on getting back on your feet and not worrying about what the towel is doing. It will probably just fall in the impending shuffle anyway.

His hands are gentle with you, despite the various scars suggesting that he is often not a gentle man. Firm enough to get hold of you and make sure you don’t slip away from him without being overbearing.

Much like last night, you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes right now. Which is fine, because you can bury your face in the crook of his neck and look past his shoulder like this, avoiding his gaze entirely.

Your arms are around his neck as he positions you how he likes, readjusting his hold on you.

“Feel like you’ve got your legs under you?” He asks, and you huff. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“So she claims despite being on her arse in the bath,” John huffs right back at you before starting to count.

Context clues tell you that “One, two, three,” is your cue to make a go of it.

John’s grip lingers for a moment- “You don’t feel dizzy do you?”- assessing how you feel now that you’re standing. You can’t, in all fairness, begrudge him that as that’s your story for how you ended up on the ground anyway.

“No,” you feel like a broken record insisting you’re fine and decide against continuing to protest against his involvement. “Can I have my towel, please?”

As he releases you to do as you ask, the instability you feel isn’t so much a physical one as one that’s much less tangible.

You’re quick to take the towel from him when he hands it over, eager to have something between you. You feel somewhat less exposed this way, even though it’s not really doing you any good.

It’s like something out of your silly little paperback bodice rippers when he tilts your chin up to look at him. You’re still avoiding eye contact which is likely what prompts him to do this.

The movement gets him the desired result as you instinctively follow his cue to look at him, clinging to the towel like a lifeline.

He’s assessing you, you realize. Sorting out for himself if he believes that you’re actually fine despite your numerous protests.

At a certain point he’s clearly decided that he’ll accept that you’re unharmed.

He clears his throat, satisfied momentarily but still seemingly content with being overbearing.

“I promise I’m fine. I need to get dressed,” its an assurance and a request wrapped together- please leave. You just want to dry off and get your clothes on, and forget that this happened.

The end of the world hasn’t totally knocked away your sense of modesty, and given your recent revelations of how your emotions are just one hormone cocktail regarding John, you can’t quite decide how you feel at the moment.

The caveman grunts, giving you a final once over before turning and leaving, the door clicking shut behind him.

You’re alone now, which is what you want, and naked and cold.

[revelboo]

Hello, sorry if I'm being annoying. But I’d love to see something with IDW Ratchet or Tarn if you could write anything with them—especially Ratchet. I just don’t see enough good stories about him. I really enjoy your writing style and can’t get enough of it. Sorry for any mistakes; English isn’t my first language.

Sure, I’ve been meaning to do an IDW Ratchet. Tarn’s on my list, too, but he and Ratchet will likely be the last new characters for a while. I’m currently over 30 ongoing storylines at this point 😅

Worker Bee

IDW Ratchet x Reader

• Sometimes it’s all too much. Even with First Aid helping, there’s just not enough medics in the Ark to support so many Autobots. Wheeljack and Perceptor can help if push comes to shove, but even then once the fighting begins again it won’t be enough. He’s never enough. And when he can’t get his processor right, when it threatens to drown him, he goes driving in his alt mode. Feels the sun baking him, the sand and hot asphalt under his tires. No real destination in mind, just trying to calm the panic that’s always there, the worry about what might happen. Driving for hours sometimes in a widening spiral about the Ark. Never going too far in case he’s needed. As he turns, he almost misses the car down in a crevice, only part of the bumper still visible, emergency lights flashing. Not his problem, but he’s still slowing anyway. Because he’s still a medic and someone might be hurt.

• Transforming and sliding down next to the car, he lays a hand on the roof feeling the heat of the metal and knowing it’s been there a while. Leaning to look inside anyway, there’s a human slumped forward against the wheel, broken glass glittering in their hair. Unmoving. Too late, then. Spark constricting, he’s turning away, pushing off the car to make the metal groan, when their little fingers flex and you make a low, guttural noise of pain that freezes him.

• It takes time to carefully peel back the roof of the car, snap the seatbelt and pull the door off to remove you. Feeling how hot your skin is against his servos as he lifts your limp form. Your eyes never open but you mumble incoherently, broken fragments he can’t make sense of. That make him wonder just how long you’ve been here, trapped and waiting to die. Because there’s no leaving you now that he has you in his hands. Carefully transforming around you to carry back to the Ark.

• Wheeljack’s in Medbay when he returns, digging through his tools and looking up guiltily, vocal indicators flickering green before he notices the human. “Haven’t seen that one before. Looks rough,” Wheeljack murmurs, moving closer as Ratchet lays you on a berth, your tiny form looking even smaller in the bot sized space. He’s almost absurdly glad Wheeljack’s there. Even though he’s been trying to brush up on human medicine since there’s so many of them now in the Ark, he doesn’t know nearly enough. Doesn’t know how to help you, but Wheeljack has a human. He has to know something.

• Snatching a scanner to run over you, he frowns at the results. Wrist and arm broken, one leg fractured. Body temperature well outside of normal parameters, dehydrated. Blood pressure off from normal, too. And he doesn’t know enough to know which problem is a priority. Which will kill you if he doesn’t fix it first. “Get your human,” he says softly. Temperature? It’s a place to start, cooling you off. “Now, Wheeljack,” he adds without looking up when the other bot doesn’t immediately move. Using a servo to brush your hair from your face, he can see the glass glittering on your skin and in your hair. “You held on this long.”

[vidavalor]

<<I tend to think he just saw it all as more space for his books! 😂>>

Oh, babe, he definitely saw it as that, too. 😂 I'm in total agreement there! There are so many books in this shop that the weird, not-often-used rooms in S2 that we saw still just had them piled up everywhere. When I say they have a bedroom up there, I mean that there's a room of books which have been parted enough for there to also a bed.

There was, once, likely even a bookshelf running horizontally on the wall above the bed but Aziraphale got rid of that after the time they rocked the bed into the wall hard enough that Crowley got a mid-coitus concussion from a falling dictionary. Kidding. (Maybe? lol).

I also assume it's the location of Aziraphale's alluded to, ahem, private collections. It probably has a closet which has become home to a variety of random bits and bobs of Crowley's wardrobe going back decades, if the tie & shoes he gave Gabriel are any indication, and the things he doesn't keep at his flat. It's cozy, awash in books, and otherwise pretty normal. We can't see it yet, though, because they would like us to still be theorizing regarding its existence, as you wisely said.

<<It's probably been left so ambiguous because it wasn't important to the show at the time, and they figured it would give us something more to analyze/speculate on and write fanfic about!>>

Exactly. I'm dead serious. Like... we're going to see more of the bookshop but we are in what will be the last bit of the series and that was always the way it was going to go. Doesn't matter if it's a full season or a movie-- it's how they've been doing this since the start. What we see when is by design-- flashbacks, parts of the bookshop, all of it. It's partially an audience engagement tactic. It was in the book, too, but it's even more so in the tv series because that medium is especially great for a story like this.

I think that by telling the story out of chronological order and by being a little coy about what they show, the audience is engaging with its themes more as a result of also trying to solve the puzzle. It makes it more fun for the audience and it's also a more engaging way to tell the story for the people doing so because something we're seeing and when we're seeing it becomes significant to seeing the story.

Everyone can tell it's going to have a good ending to a point that they just basically told us what that ending is lol and they can because that's not at all what's driving interest in the story. No one is like what will the ending be?!; they're all what happened in 1941?! The juice of the story is in the flashbacks.

So, giving the audience that kiss in The Final 15 and leaving them knowing that Crowley & Aziraphale are going to be fine in the final season and what's in the flashbacks in The Finale? What's the twist to upend how we see what we're watching? It has to be that this isn't new because that would single-handedly rewrite all the flashbacks for some people.

What's going to make us see the scenes we've already seen differently once we get to the end of The Finale? If The Vavoom was their first kiss and was back in ancient times, is what.

I really, really think that they're about to drop a single scene that is going to make basically every single fanfic in this fandom need an AU-canon divergence tag and it's going to be amazing. Showing in 2.06 literally the worst kiss they'll have had and will ever have and writing the scene in such a way that half the audience is going to think this is new... but all after planting the seeds earlier in the season via The Vavoom for the twist in S3 when it's shown that it's very much not new? Perfect. 😉

It's not just the kiss-- the whole elevator cliffhanger to me was perfect. Because here we are, ages after the season aired, still chatting about wtf is actually going on in this show lol. There is no actual consensus about what we've been watching and that actually results in us all exploring it more deeply while we attempt to figure it out. It's a thousand times more fun.

Speaking of the bookshop, theories on what could be upstairs?

ooooo the BIG QUESTION.

so we can see a bit of the second floor in all these pics:

basically all we know for sure is there are A LOT MORE BOOKS, both stacked around the railing and on the circle of shelves. neil has decided not to comment on what else might be there (YET 👀) but he’s confirmed that much.

apart from that, we can see from the outside that there are six windows on the second floor:

i’m going to assume they’re part of the shop because they’re Very On Fire when the rest of the shop is on fire. SO. taking all that into account, you end up with something like this:

where the thin grey circle is the railing and the brown one is the bookshelves (as you can see in the first pic, it doesn’t circle all the way around!)

the rest is a complete mystery. i mean i’m sure the actual set was empty because they didn’t need to fill it, but in theory there’s room for some interesting stuff! with the first floor for scale i can imagine a whole flat built around that circle of shelves — a bed aziraphale never sleeps in, comfy chairs, every other angel knick-knack he’s encountered in his life. in my personal headcanon it’s all books and hoarded items covered in dust, which he leaves for authenticity.

thank you for asking!! i’d love to hear other people’s thoughts if they want to share :)

[yanderefarm]

I know requests are closed but 1. I need to write this down before it falls from my skull and 2. I just want to offer you this general concept for the brain worms not as a request.

Achilles is well and happy to be tortured, yes, but what if despite that(or more likely because he knows he'll get beat more) he is very resistant to being feminized. Gotta make him a pretty princess but he hisses and yells that he is a man and you can't change him. But no, no, it's not changing him, it's revealing his true self; a pretty little pet who is so obedient and feminine.

-🪼

god i love this idea so much. i love forced fem so much!!!

idk why achilles just makes me wanna go hard even when i shouldn't.

cw;; blood, nsft, torture, forced fem, non con undressing, humiliation

i really like nonsexual forced fem like i feel like if it was for sex they could at least justify it in their mind but forcing them to wear something around the house or out in public is so much worse. they can't justify it and they can tell themselves over and over it's for you but when you're not even looking at them it doesn't feel like it's for you anymore.

achilles got out of the bath and stared blankly at the lacey panties and pretty skirt you laid out for him. this wasn't right he was sure you had set out another suit for him. he raised his voice just enough to call for you but it seemed you weren't listening. he wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up the clothing. he came to find you in the living room. you were with a friend. it was one of your work friends who knew about your relationship with achilles but that did nothing for his embarrassment.

"why aren't you dressed yet?"

"i... i couldn't find my clothes."

"chilles i can literally see them in your hands."

his eyes darted away. you let out a heavy sigh and stood up. achilles instinctively flinched as you approached him but you didn't care instead you ripped his clothes from his hands.

"I'm sorry about him. he clearly isn't getting it through his head." you grabbed the corner of his towel and before achilles could open his mouth you ripped it off exposing his lower body to the open air.

"god you're so embarrassing." you didn't even sound amused just annoyed. "now get your clothes on."

achilles turned to leave, his face burning red, but you grabbed his arm firmly. you pulled him back to the middle of the room with an annoyed look on your face.

"i don't trust you not to wear what i gave you. put it on right here."

achilles swallowed hard, he couldn't bring himself to raise his head because the overwhelming embarrassment was too much.

"you-you have my clothes, sir."

"mhm. so ask nicely for them."

"may i please have my cloth-"

you huffed in annoyance, indicating he'd done it wrong but you didn't raise your hand to strike him. like you were so disappointed in him that he wasn't worth hitting. that hurt worse than the actual pain would have.

his breath hitched as he opened his mouth again to try and correct himself but you cut him off. "what should I hand you first?"

"th-the under-"

you huffed again.

"my-my panties... please hand me my panties,sir." it was the most humiliating way he could think to phrase it and it seemed to please you as you handed him the thin lacey garment.

achilles closed his eyes tight trying to pretend he wasn't getting dressed in front of another person. there was no pretending away that his cock had gotten hard even as he pulled the lace over it. you helped him out, fixing his leaking member into the slightly too tight underwear.

when he finally opens his eyes again you're holding up the skirt. underwear is one thing but that skirt is too much.

"please- i.. i don't want to."

you roll your eyes at that.

"do i have to put it on you" you sound so disappointed.

"i don't want to... I'm not a woman."

"why are you being so difficult? you're usually so well behaved." you look at your guest and then back to him with a scowl.

"oh. do you think he'll help you? do you think if you throw a little fit, act like I'm forcing you, he's going to help you? do you think he'll save you? do you need to be saved now, achilles?" every word you say is filled with venom. you must know exactly how much your words are getting to him, the way they make him feel guilty and disgusting. you even manage to look hurt behind all that anger in your eyes.

"no i- i- please.... i just don't want to b-"

"could you go wait in the car... im sorry about this." you let out a deep sigh. your friend leaves the room so it's just you and achilles.

as soon as you both hear the front door shut achilles attempts to open his mouth only for you to punch him in the stomach as hard as you can. you watch him crumple to the floor in pain as one of his wounds reopens. you kick him onto his back so you can climb over top of him. you sit on his chest with the skirt in your hands and all achilles can do is kick and flail.

"you stupid fucking girl. you embarrass me in front of my guest. you tell me-" you elbow him in another wound making him howl in pain, his legs straightening enough for you to shove them down. "you tell me no? and now, you're fucking fighting me."

you elbow him one more time to get him to give up his struggling. his body goes limp as he sobs underneath you. you make sure to pull his legs in the most painful way as you start forcing his skirt onto his body.

"you are a pretty girl. you're my pretty girl. and no amount of throwing fits or asking others to save you is going to change that. do you get that?" you yank his skirt up over his legs.

you notice that the wound you'd been elbowing has reopened and he's bleeding all over his shirt. he knows he's in so much trouble but all he can do is sob.

"im not a girl.." you hear him mutter through tears.

"you don't get to decide that. you don't get to decide anything." you slowly pick yourself off of him.

"I'll clean you up and change you since you're such a big baby. and when i get back from hanging out with my friends you're fucking in for it. maybe while I'm gone you can come up with how you're going to apologize."

achilles just laid there, bleeding and sobbing. everytime he tried to close his eyes he would feel a breeze over his legs and fresh tears would flow from his eyes. the humiliation of being forced to be your pretty girl was one thing but knowing how angry you were at him, how much he'd disappointed you hurt worse. he didn't want to be a girl he didn't want you to be angry at him and yet here he was. the old wound soaking his shirt and giving him a stabbing pain everytime he let out his shakey sobbing breaths seemed like a fitting punishment. of course that was for you to decide, not him.

you cleaned up his wound and changed his shirt in silence. when you pulled out the pink bedazzled shirt you gave him a look, daring him to say something but he didn't. you were clearly still angry at him but you treated him just as gently as you always did. he couldn't help but lean into your touch as you cleaned up his face.

"'m sorry..." his voice was small and weak.

you let out a heavy sigh before you picked him up with ease and brought him over to the couch.

"... i know you're sorry, sweet girl." he flinched at your words. "you were very bad, though. so when I get home you're losing all rights to boy mode. no more suits, no more he/him, no more achilles. I'll pick you out a pretty girl name."

he whimpered softly as his chest got tight.

"do you understand?"

"y-yes sir..."

"now say I'm a good girl."

"I'm... I'm..." he struggled to say it, his breathing ragged, but when he looked in your eyes he could still see the disappointment from before. "I'm a good girl."

"yes you are." you leaned in and kissed his forehead. "be a good, princess."

[visualtaehyun]

Hello~ um, hope you don't mind the bombardment of sudden notifications from me, but after reading more on your linguistic analysis posts for Love Sea (THANK YOU btw; they're really really adding to my enjoyment of the show and I didn't think I could love the show even more but here we are), it got me thinking of a question I have regarding LITA and Prapai's way of calling Sky.

Mostly I'm wondering if you had any insight about Prapai testing out different ways of addressing Sky at the end of episode 9. The subs say Prapai tests out "Sky krub" and then "nong Sky krub", but it sounds to me like Prapai is saying "khap" the at first and "khrap" the later which sounds distinct to me. Is there a difference? The way the music swells seems to indicate some other meaning, so I'm curious.

I'm also wondering at the implication of Sky asking Prapai to call him "just Sky" in episode 10? I just thought it was interesting since Prapai in ep 9 says "isn't that too curt" about calling Sky just by his name. Also wondering why this request from Sky makes Prapai go feral nearly kiss Sky?

Hope its okay to ask you like this! If its not please feel free to ignore me; I hope you've having a great day! ^w^;;

Ohhhh I hope you realize the monster you've unleashed cause this might get long 😂 Hi though first of all!! Loved reading all your tags in my notifications hehe

My usual disclaimer applies: I'm not a native Thai speaker, just a passionate learner 🙏

First things first: I'll be using screenshots from the Viki version, simply because I highly recommend re-watching the show with those subs for all who have a base level understanding of there being different levels of speech, pronouns, particles etc. in Thai. Back when LITA got re-released on Viki with weekly episodes all over again, my Thai was still in its baby shoes lol but since I was actively following the main cast at the time, I therefore followed a handful of fan translators on twitter too! One of them, midknightmoodz, still translates for BossNoeul's fandoms to this day, has been involved in several Thai BL sub teams on Viki, and got to be the translation editor for LITA's re-release on Viki. Her subs therefore give a little more insight where possible and, as a fan herself, come from a place of wanting interfans to gain a better understanding of some of the intricacies of the language used. Long story short- if the subs look unfamiliar, it's because they're the Viki ones!

If my pre-explanation already got this lengthy then... 🤡

Color-coded for ease of understanding: Prapai, Sky, Plerng, Rain, particles

Pai testing out ways to call Sky

I'll try to faithfully transcribe the way he pronounces the particles but only for this scene here because it establishes a lot of things about how Pai thinks and acts:

สกาย สกาย = Sky... Sky. ห้วนไปไหมวะ สกายคับ¹ น้องสกายค้าบ² /huaan bpai mai wa? Sky khap. Nong Sky khaap/ = Is it too curt? Sky¹. Nong Sky². มันขาดอะไรไปอย่าง น้องสกายครับ³ /man khaat a rai bpai yaang. Nong Sky khrap/ = It's missing something. Nong Sky³.

¹สกายคับ /Sky khap/ This is a pretty standard informal pronunciation of the polite particle ครับ /khrap/. Without it, he feels like he sounds too brusque, the addition of it makes him sound more polite, formal, sweet and honestly pretty flirty!

When they first meet, Pai defaults to informal พี่/น้อง /phi, nong/, since Pai is older and Sky clearly younger, and he uses typically masculine polite particle ครับ /khrap/ A Lot already. We know he's a huge flirt and sleeps around a lot so none of this is surprising to me lol

In the scene after the freshie orientation thing, the contrast to how Pai and Rain talk to each other really puts Pai's use of ครับ /khrap/ with Sky into perspective lol He does not use it with Rain, of course. If my boy wasn't such a walnut, Rain would've clocked right away that Pai is intent on pursuing Sky! Because using ครับ /khrap/ so much when addressing him, makes Pai sound flirty-sweet.

Back to the differences you correctly heard between the ways to pronounce this particle though!

²น้องสกายค้าบ /Nong Sky khaap/ The emphasis on elongating the vowel, the sweet tone of voice, the more endearing น้อง /nong/ + name? This man is laying it on thick lol In ep.10 especially, you'll hear him speak this sweetly and อ้อน /aon/-ing Sky a lot!

In the following scene at Sky's dorm, Pai actually already starts calling Sky น้องสกาย /nong Sky/:

แล้วชัดพอไหมครับ น้องสกาย /laaeo chat paaw mai khrap, nong Sky?/ ชัดพอครับ ว่าพี่ตั้งใจจะมาจีบน้องสกาย หือ /chat paaw khrap? waa phi dtang jai ja maa jeep nong Sky? heu?/ = Is it clear enough? That I intend to be pursuing you? Hm?

Crystal clear 🫠

At the beginning of ep.9, we see Pai getting feedback from his younger siblings re: just "name" vs. Nong "name" and the effect he intends it to have:

- เพลิง = Plerng. - ครับ /khrap?/ = Yes? - น้องเพลิง เรียกนี้เขินไหม /nong Plerng. riiak nee, kheern mai?/ = Nong Plerng. Does calling you that make you feel shy/fluster you? - ถ้าเป็นพี่พายก็ไม่อะ /thaa bpen phi Pai gor mai a/ = If it's you, then nah.

Many of Pai's moves are intended to make Sky shy or get his heart racing. He keeps saying so too, for example here in ep.10 after 'claiming ownership' via the wind symbol:

นี่พี่ทำขนาดนี้แล้วเนี่ย ไม่เขินบ้างเลยหรอครับ /nee phi tham kha-naat nee laaeo niia, mai kheern baang loei raaw khrap?/

³น้องสกายครับ /nong Sky khrap/ This last one is pronounced really properly and clearly, you can hear the rolled ร /r/ in there. It's giving well-mannered or gentleman, basically. This guy is really bringing his A-game, trying to prove to Sky that he's serious about him! And can you believe this utter simp? Playing dress-up, practicing in front of the mirror, testing it out again on his little brother- only to what? Go ambush his crush at his dorm to take him out for a meal during which he talks a mile a minute 😂

Sky asking to be called "just Sky"

Again giving you the entire exchange first, as faithfully as everything's being said:

- พี่พายเลิกเรียกผมว่า น้องสกาย ได้ไหม /phi Pai leerk riiak pom waa "nong Sky" dai mai?/ = Could you stop calling me "Nong Sky"? - แล้วให้เรียกว่าอะไรอะ /laaeo hai riiak waa a rai a?/ = Then what would you have me call you? - สกายก็ได้ กาย⁴เฉย ๆ ก็ได้ /Sky gor dai. gaai/Ky⁴ choei choei gor dai/ = Sky is fine. Just 'Ky⁴ is fine too. ขอแค่ไม่มีคำว่าน้องอะ ฟังแล้วตอแหล⁵ /khaaw khaae mai mee kham waa nong a. fang laaeo dtaaw-laae⁵/ = Just please not the word "nong". Sounds like bullshit.⁵ - สกาย สกายค้าบ² /Sky. Sky khaap²/ = Sky. Sky.²

⁴กาย /gaai/ or /Ky/ Sky's name is สกาย /sa-gaai/ in Thai but among his friends, they mostly all just call him กาย /Ky/ or ไอ้กาย /ai'Ky/. That's clearly too casual for our resident sweet-talker though lol

⁵ตอแหล /dtaaw-laae/ This is a bit of a rude colloquial expression akin to 'bullshit', meaning- being deceitful, pretentious, lying, insincere, duplicitous, fake etc.

It actually comes up once before in this episode when Pai swears he only had 3 hookups after he met Sky lol:

พี่สาบานเลยว่าพี่ไม่ตอแหล /phi saa-baan loei waa phi mai dtaaw-laae/

Pai doesn't always call Sky น้องสกาย /nong Sky/ before Sky asks him not to, though. And the moments he doesn't, honestly go to show that Pai's aware of how that's mostly an act to get Sky to fall for him or at least get him flustered. It does sound fake!

When Pai accidentally triggers Sky by saying "Love makes me blind" in ep.9, he pulls him back out by calling him just สกาย /Sky/:

Same again after being on the phone with Rain and rushing to Sky's dorm:

สกายอยู่ไหน /Sky yuu nai?/

And again while looking after Sky:

สกายจะคิดนะ ว่าพี่ต้องการแค่เซ็กซ์ /Sky ja khit na waa phi dtaawng gaan khaae sex/

His other fallback is the pronoun เรา /rao/, and not just with Sky. Bit of a tangent but- before the freshie orientation thing where he hands Rain that useless coffee receipt lol Pai and Rain talk a bit differently to each other.

Between these two instances, Rain becomes more chill and casual, going from constant ครับ /khrap/'s to only using it when strictly required (whenever you'd ไหว้ /wai/ 🙏 basically lol so hello/bye/thanks/etc.), and Pai goes from calling him เรา /rao/ to just เรน /Rain/. The pronoun เรา /rao/ as a 2nd pers. pronoun is used by people more senior/older to refer to someone younger, it can both be endearing as well as come across as treating someone like a little kid, depending on context.

And this little pronoun is exactly what Pai sometimes switches to, here in ep.9 with Rain for example:

พี่สัญญาว่าจะไม่ทำอะไรเพื่อนเรา /phi san-yaa waa ja mai tham a rai pheuuan rao/

And in ep.10 with Sky as well:

เมื่อคืนเราไข้สูงที่พี่เกือบพาไปโรงบาล��ีกรอบแล้วนะ /meuua kheuun, rao khai suung thee phi geuuap phaa bpai rohng baan eek raawp laaeo na/ ใช่ครับ พี่อยากพาเรามาเดท /chai khrap, phi yaak phaa rao maa date/

As you can see, it mostly comes up when he gets serious. Being the eldest sibling, I guess he can never quite turn off that caretaker mode (or maybe it's his factory setting?).

Circling all the way back 🥴

²สกายค้าบ /Sky khaap/ Here he goes again: full-force puppy eyes, sweet voice, long vowel on the particle, leaning in as if to kiss him- he's trying to tease and fluster Sky again. And this time? Ohoho, the evidence is unmistakable!

I wouldn't necessarily say this request drove Pai wild lol it's more how this scene so nicely mirrors the first meal they shared in ep.9 where Pai shared all the most important info about himself against Sky's will 😂 Whereas here Sky is the one asking questions, engaging, showing interest- he's finally opening up to Pai :>

สกายของพี่ /Sky khaawng phi/

Hope my rambles made at least some sense but I'll gladly answer any follow-up questions~ Thanks for giving me an excuse to re-watch some LITA and thanks for reading ✨

[maxwell-grant]

I'm seeing several popular react to the Penguin show with "God I wanna see Batman kick his ass in the next movie". Which, for a show about a Batman villain, is probably an indication of succeess

Are you kidding me it fucking rules, there's no "probably" here, the show couldn't possibly have achieved what it set out to do harder.

I've talked with people, as Episode 7 was coming out, that they've managed to strike this perfect balance between making Oz the fun engaging protagonist to watch, and making him a villain that we'll want to face justice, opposite Sofia who tread the line between his Batman Villain arch-nemesis as well as the closest the show has to a hero. The camera loves her, the costume designers and hair stylists love her, the showrunner calls her the hero of the show, production folks who go on the podcast talk about how she was their favorite character to work on, while Oz, the protagonist, only grew darker and more despised and more fucked-up as the weeks passed, as we sit through 8 hours chipping away at all of his fun and charm and wacko comedy antics and motivations and all the scruples and principles that he turns out to have less and less of, that become less and less useful to him, until he butchers them all in the very end along with the heart of the show.

As I saw it around week 6, by the time this thing was over, Sofia would demand to be received with tragic applause and heartbreak and whooping cheers and love, but Oswald would have the children of the world booing and hissing and throwing eggs and tomatoes at him, and then asking him to come back so they can do it again. AND I WAS RIGHT, and also I WILDLY underestimated the degree to which that would be warranted, and I certainly didn't expect that, for the first time in my life, I would be unconditionally and enthusiastically on the same side as everyone who posted that Arkham scene, where Batman picks up Penguin and smashes him against a mirror, as something Battison has to do in the next movie. I couldn't believe what a stab to the heart that last episode was.

I'l get into the specifics of why this worked more on the Episode 8 breakdown and, granted, it's a lot to conciliate still, it's genuinely a strange feeling to be onboard with everyone else who wants Penguin to be flattened and crushed and humiliated, to truly hate him as a loathsome monster for the first time ever even as I love him in so many new fucked-up ways. This is, make no mistake, the good version of the Joker's Asylum one-off, Pain and Prejudice, Bullies, all those modern stories that are ultimately about nothing more than reminding you of a super-duper serious evil bastard this funny little man is, stories I generally just find too dumb and reductive and ugly and tasteless and trying so very damn hard to be scary without working for it. This was Lauren LeFranc slam dunking everyone who's picked up this character since Jason Aaron in 2007, including Jason Aaron himself, and wherever they take him in the next movie, or if they can justify another season of this, they've fully set him up more than ever as a guy we will want to be exploded by the Batmobile, that he not only fully deserves it, but must, be defeated for good.

Beyond impressed, don't think I could have ever anticipated how much I wanted this.

[ramoth13]

It is fascinating that names have always had such power over individuals in Tolkien's world. With only two exceptions (that I can think of) changing names is usually a bad sign in Arda; loss of purpose or a corruption of meaning (think Gollum to Smeagol or Melkor to Morgoth) is a normal result of changing one's name. The naming of things is incredibly important to Tolkien, but changing one's name is much akin to changing or losing one's self. The two obvious exceptions are Aragorn and Gandalf (I'll get to Túrin in a moment).

Aragorn has several names, but are all kept as parts of himself. Strider is also an important name and this doesn't change, but is added onto (he doesnt stop being thr ranger, Strider, but now reveals himself as having always been Aragorn, king of Gondor, as well). Having multiple names in his case is less a changing of person, and more of a reveal of true nature. He was hidden from the enemy and then takes his rightful name but not shedding his past self, the Ranger and leader of the gray company. He reveals, but never changes his name. Or put differently, he never gives a name up. They are all him, together.

Gandalf, on the other hand, has more names than nearly anyone else in all of middle earth lore; but they were all given to him. Notice, he never elects to choose a name, he accepts what others name him. Tharkûn by the Dwarves, Mithrandír by the Elves, Gandalf by the Hobbits and men, Olórin by those from his former life. He doesn't change his name, he merely accepts what is given to him, which matches his purpose: to be what the people of middle-earth need him to be. Leader to dwarves (Thorin), advisor to men (Aragorn and Theoden), trouble-maker to the soft hobbits too set in their ways (Bilbo), and stormcrow to the evil machinations of those against peace.

Túrin is perhaps the only character who changes his name like Sauron, but it is worth noting that those changes almost always portend a coming tragedy. His changing of name is nearly always a hint at a tragedy to come. It never does him any good, and one might ponder on what this wisdom hints at.

Sauron's shifting of both form and name indicates a dishonesty, a willingness to go to any lengths to survive and thrive, but with a wicked twist. Mairon, Sauron, Annatar, and, Halbrand. Here, I am reminded of the werewolf that he transformed into in order to fulfill the prophecy of Huan's defeat at the jaws of the greatest wolf. Yet, despite his best efforts, he was no match to either Lúthien or Huan, for he was never going to be the greatest wolf, despite his attempt.

It does seem that the tragedy of Sauron begins with Morgoth's seduction,- to change himself, first from a servant of Aulë to a lieutenant of Melkor, and finally, from a Lord of Gifts to a Lord of Rings.

To change one's name is almost always a bad thing. All of which to say, I think you're very much so onto something, OP.

Again, still cannot believe I am so compelled by Sauron in Rings of Power-- but I wonder about this shifting of his form and what it does to his sense of his own identity. He shed Halbrand like a coat and has now cloaked himself in the Annatar persona where he is much more cold and aloof and guarded. Of course we know he's wearing a mask and has clear goals with this form, it's utilitarian and maybe also serves to hide whatever hurt (and rage) he has from Galadriel's rejection of his proposal (lmao), but I don't know. I wonder if he mourns the forms he's had, if certain roles were more comfortable than others. Or what his original form was like, as Mairon? I DON'T think Jack Lowden's Sauron was close to what he might have had in Almaren or Aman before his Fall, though maybe there were parts that he brought back once he felt Morgoth's presence disappear? I'm really just thinking aloud a bit, but I do love the idea of Mairon as a shapeshifter and a survivor, changing parts of himself and drowning himself in different roles, depending on what keeps him alive or in power. Losing himself. Mairon, you've gone so far from where you first started, do you recognize any of your old self or selves when you look in a mirror? Was there a freedom in s1 Halbrand that has been lost now in Annatar? I have questions and no possible answers, but the thoughts remain...

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠 - 4

a/n: warning you now— i feel like this is sooo much dialogue. but im a whore for dialogue so 🤷🏾‍♀️ forgive me

“When I say girls, you say night! Girls-” Garcia bounced as she rang JJ and Emily’s doorbell giddily.

JJ and Emily rolled their eyed lovingly (you just had to love Garcia). “I’ll get it.” Emily shrugged, leaving JJ to mix God knows what kind of cocktail. It was very clear that tonight was going to be a rather wild night for the trio.

“Girls!” Garcia greeted with a grin as the door opened.

“Night,” Emily said with far less enthusiasm.

“Oh, say it like you mean it! Girls!” Garcia chastised on the doorstep.

“Night, now come inside before I change my mind.” Emily teased. Garcia rolled her eyes in exasperation but made her way inside in search of JJ and the alcohol. SHe dropped her overnight bag on the couch and found the blonde pouring up their first round.

“Ah my sweet beautiful blonde bartender. Let’s get these drinks flowing because your sassy broody partner is not participating in my chants.”

“Emily, you know the chanting is the most important part of Girls night.” JJ scolded.

“And here I was thinking it was the alcohol.”

“Hardy har har, drink up buttercup!” Penelope interrupted, shoving a glass in Emily’s hands and clinking her glass against both of theirs before throwing the drink back.

“Pen! That is not a shot.” JJ gaped watching the tech analyst empty her glass.

“A shot is a shot– no matter how large. Pour me another.” Garcia demanded slapping the glass on the counter and sliding it toward JJ. Both profilers shook their heads in disbelief but followed Garcia’s lead and finished their glasses before pouring another. With arms loaded with snacks and drinks refilled, they made their way to the living room to commence their girls night.

It was just passing 8, when Garcia sat up rather excitedly. “What’s new in the neighborhood, hm? Anything interesting with your hot and super cool neighbor?”

JJ and Emily both attempt to mask their facial expressions, but that simple act is enough for Garcia to beg for information. “Listen– there’s really nothing to tell aside from neighborly things.” Emily shrugged.

“Yeah, she’s an early riser so I see her when I run. Em sees her when we get home. Very neighborly.” JJ adds.

“Uh huh, and are you both still blind to her sapphic desires?” Garcia questioned, calling to their first meeting.

“Well not exactly. We actually got a very clear indicator of her preferences a few weeks ago.” JJ smirked thinking back to their date night. At Garcia’s obvious interest, she continued. “Em and I had dinner in town for once and stumbled upon our dear sweet neighbor on the worst date of her life with a stuffy older woman.”

“I think stuffy is putting it mildly. She was absolutely awful and I only spent 10 minutes with her in the bathroom. I don’t know how she managed the whole evening.” Emily grumbled.

“Oh, this is quite marvelous. So we know for sure, she likes the lady bits. What’s your plan casanovas?”

“What? There’s no plan Penelope. She’s our neighbor and attractive as she is, that feels really close to home.” Emily replied, swirling her drink a bit.

“Well yes, she is geographically close to home.” Garcia hummed thoughtfully before startling again. “Yes, so close– we should invite her over right now.”

“Woah, what? No!” Emily and JJ protested.

“Yes, you said it yourself. There’s no plan in place. She’s your neighbor. Everything is very neighborly. She’s too close to home, blah blah boring excuses. If that’s the case, you should have no problem with me invited her over to girls night. Unless there’s something else you’re not saying…” Garcia goaded.

“No, nothing else to add. We just think– she’d probably busy. It’s Friday and she’s young. She’s probably not even home.” JJ excused with a shrug.

“Well there’s only one way to find out. I’ll be back.” Garcia grinned, swinging to her feet and out the door before Emily and JJ could even think to stop her. With wide eyes they both scrambled to their front window to watch Garcia move down the sidewalk.

-

“Well well well, Penelope Garcia! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Y/n smiled as she leaned against her front door.

“Hi! Wanna get drunk?” Garcia grinned, finally feeling the alcohol she’d chugged.

“Oh? Sugar, you sure you’re not already drunk?” Y/n giggled curiously.

Garcia only grinned harder, “Maybe but that’s not important. We’re having a girls night and you have to come hang out with us.”

Y/n hesitated a bit, “Oh no I don’t want to intrude–”

“You’re not! You’re not, I promise. Both Em and JJ are eagerly awaiting our return right now.”

Y/n looked at the cocoon of blankets she’d been wrapped in on the couch. She looked at the book she’d been working through and shrugged, “Sure, why not? My book’ll be here tomorrow. Let me grab my keys and we can go.” At Y/n’s agreeance, Garcia whooped in celebration. “I gotta warn you though, I’ve been told my accent gets thick as hell when I drink.”

-

No one really knew how they’d gotten to this point. They really could only blame the alcohol and Garcia’s natural ability to pull the most insane things from the depths of one's soul. But they were too far gone to reel it in.

“Okay okay, longest relationship.” Garcia prompts pointedly at the women sprawled across Emily and JJ’s black sectional.

Emily shrugs, “You’re looking at her.” JJ points finger guns over at Emily with a wink before nodding in confirmation.

“Over a year with Kevin. A rotten man from work you don’t know.” Garcia supplies as Y/n nods in understanding. “And you my dear?”

“Well if we’re talking exclusive relationships, a year and a half.” Y/n answer around her glass.

“And if we’re talking non-exclusive?” Garcia asked leaning forward on the couch.

“Well then in that case, it’d be closer to four years.” Y/n shrugged.

“Four years?” JJ asked, shock clearly written across her face. “How does that even happen?”

“I’m from the South. Everyone was closeted then.”

“Oh what’s the story there?” Emily prodded, leaning closer to the younger woman.

Y/n laughed, cheeks red under Emily’s gaze and the alcohol, “Well as I said before, everyone is closeted. It’s high school– hormones are wild, everyone wants to fit in. My neighbor was a cheerleader who couldn’t remember a historical date to save her life. And I was tutoring in more than just History.”

“Oh my god, you little minx.” Garcia grinned. Her smile turned a bit mischievous as her eyes panned to the two older women flanking their neighbor. “But essentially, you were in a four-year-long neighbors with benefits situation?”

Y/n eyed the tech analyst curiously. “Mmhm, that was very formative and educational. I think she’s married with three kids now.”

“That tracks with everything I’ve every known about closeted girls in small towns.” JJ nods. “I’m curious though, how’d you get to the year and a half official relationship after the friends with benefits thing?”

Y/n placed her empty cup on the coffee table and turned to her right, giving JJ her undivided attention. “Well, I graduated high school and ended up in the vocal performance program at NYU. As you can imagine it was much easier to be queer in that space. Met a lot of people, did a lot of drugs. Really leaned into the experience. Absolutely no one I saw while in college was ever particularly serious and that didn’t really change until last year.”

“Wow, only one serious relationship in your whole 26 years of life?” Garcia pouted.

“Oh don’t look so sad about it honey. I’m a really strong advocate for being where you feel happy. And if that means brief trysts with the girl in my Aural Harmony class it’s okay. And if it means a year and a half with a wonderful woman– even better. But just know it will always be with a woman.” Y/n winked.

“So how does that look for you here in DC? We know that last date wasn’t fruitful, have you been on any others?” Emily asked.

“Oh god don’t even remind me. You know she’s called me every Friday since that date? Absolutely insane,” Y/n threw her head back against the couch. All the women groaned and boo’d collectively. “I’m not sure what DC will be for me. I’m open to whatever comes. Grayson, my best friend back in Kentucky, is begging me to get laid. You know,” Y/n started, eyes sweeping from Emily to JJ. “It’s extremely unfortunate that you two are together.” Y/n grumbled.

“Oh?” JJ asked through a chuckle.

“Like I’m positive you deserve each other and are great together— but it’s one of those things where all the sexy, smart, not crazy women are dating each other. Amazing for you, terrible for us.” Both JJ and Emily’s eyes widened a bit and they eye each other over the younger woman’s head.

“Well you know, they’re not that selfish. They’ve been known to share themselves with other women.” Garcia shared— eyes closed. The room grew quiet as both JJ and Emily glared at Garcia’s profile and Y/n’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I must be drunker than i thought. Cause I could’ve sworn Garcia just suggested that y’all have some kinda open relationship thing going on.” Y/n spoke through a hiccuped giggle.

JJ and Emily laughed nervously and JJ replied, “I’ve been told I’ve got a heavy hand while playing bartender.”

“Trust me no complaints from me,” Y/n winked at the blonde (much slower than usual). She glanced at her phone and heaved a sigh as she rocked to her feet. “This was very fun ladies but I’ve got to get to bed.”

“Oh you could stay, Garcia’s sleeping over.” JJ suggested watching the younger woman sway a bit.

“No no, no need. I can make it the 20 steps to my front door. Thank you though.” Y/n declined, finally feeling stable enough to take a step toward the door.

“At least let one of us walk you back, hm?” Emily asked, already following behind the younger woman toward the door.

“Yes ma’am!”

“I expected a bit more fight in that.” Emily chuckled, slipping her shoes on. “I’ll be back, Jen.”

“Who am I to decline a chivalrous escort?” Y/n shrugged and linked arms with the older woman. The walk wasn’t long at all and once Y/n was stood in her doorway she sent Emily a sleepy smile. “Thank you for walking me back and for letting me crash your girls' night.”

“Anytime,” Emily smiled softly. “Let us know if you need anything, alright?” Y/n nodded in understanding and watched as Emily headed down the sidewalk.

“Goodnight!” Her southern twang floated through the night and Emily fought a laugh as she waved and returned the sentiments.

As soon as she was back in her own house, she rejoined JJ and Penelope on the couch and turned her gaze to the colorful woman they both loved. “Pen, you my dear sweet friend, are sooooo in for it tomorrow.”

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

THE BEST FRIENDS RULE PART 2-JOBE BELLINGHAM

Part.1

After you walked away, Elena gave Jobe a curious look, watching him for a few seconds in silence before asking, "Hey, is everything okay?"

Jobe nodded quickly, almost mechanically, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, of course. All right," he replied, though his expression and redness on his cheeks indicated a certain agitation.

Elena looked at him for a moment, uncertain. She seemed to accept his answer, but her expression revealed that she was not completely convinced. As soon as he turned to the track, his eyes looked for you in the crowd and found you immediately, dancing and laughing with your friends, drawing everyone’s attention to you.

Your movements were full of energy and charm, as if you knew exactly how much your way of being left everyone breathless, especially Jobe. Elena was watching the scene, unsure of what was happening. He always knew you and Jobe were different, but there was something new in the way he looked at you, an attention that he couldn’t quite explain.

Jobe, meanwhile, tried to avoid Elena’s gaze, but it was almost impossible not to look at you. The way you danced, moving naturally and letting your eyes slide on him every now and then made it all harder. With every smile or laugh, he felt his heart beat a little faster, and could not stop wondering what it would be like if there were no rules to complicate things.

After a few moments, Elena tried to report the conversation on the partners they were talking with, but Jobe was distracted, occasionally casting glances in your direction.

In a moment of pause, one of your friends approached you to talk, and you nodded, laughing, still looking and a bravado that seemed to grow every time you noticed Jobe looking at you. With a light move, you pretended to ignore him, focusing on your friend, but you threw Jobe some brief glance and charged with provocation.

Noticing your look, Jobe let slip a half smile that Elena did not miss.

"Jobe... are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jobe took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders. "What? No... I was just... it’s just that..." He stopped, realizing that he didn’t even know how to explain what he was feeling.

Elena sighed, glancing back at you as well. "Look, I know that Y/N can be... well, intense," she said with a vague smile. "But remember the rule, okay?"

Jobe nodded, though he felt that the rule was becoming increasingly difficult to follow.

---

The next morning, Elena’s family was invited to the Bellingham home for a casual lunch. In his room, Jobe was getting ready, digging through his clothes and trying to find something that was both elegant and casual, something that could impress without looking too much. He was examining a shirt, assessing whether it was too formal, when his older brother, Jude, entered the room with a funny smile.

"Hey, what’s this concentration?" Jude crossed his arms, looking at Jobe with a complicit smile. " You’re choosing the outfit as if you were going on a date."

Jobe turned around, pretending to puff. "I’m not looking for anything special," he replied, trying to seem casual, even if he couldn’t hide the slight anxiety completely. "Just... I want to dress up, that’s all."

Jude raised an eyebrow, amused. "Ah yes? You just want to dress up today as Y/N is coming here." He gave him a slight pat on the shoulder. "Admit it, you have a huge crush on her."

Jobe flushed, shaking his head and trying to defend himself. "What do you say? I don’t care at all. It’s just... just Elena’s sister, that’s all."

Jude laughed, noticing how Jobe avoided looking into his eyes. "Yeah, only Elena’s sister, sure. It’s a shame that every time she walks into a room, your brain seems to stop working."

Jobe tried to ignore the comment, returning to focus on his wardrobe, but he could not deny himself that, thinking of you, his heart beat faster and he got a feeling of agitation. Finally he chose a shirt that he thought you might like, trying to ignore the funny smile of Jude leaving the room shaking his head.

Meanwhile, at Elena’s house, you were also preparing. You were wearing a skirt just above the knee, adjusting it in front of the mirror to find the right balance between casual and chic. Just then, Elena entered your room, leaning against the doorframe with a pensive expression as she watched you.

You noticed her look and turned to her with a mischievous smile. "What is it? Do you think it’s a bit much for a simple lunch?" you joked, fixing your skirt one last time and fixing your hair.

Elena sighed, getting a little closer. "You know, you could stop messing with Jobe like that. He’s my best friend, I don’t want him to think..."

You smiled innocently. "What did he think? That I had a crush on him?"

Elena looked at you with a certain severity, but you noticed a hint of concern. "You know what I mean, Y/N. Jobe is shy and... I wouldn’t want him to get deluded. You know how it can be."

You raised your shoulders, visibly amused. "Elena, calm down. Jobe is your most shy and cute friend, I know. But I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just... chatting, that’s all." You winked at her, which made your sister sigh even more.

"You’re incredible," said Elena, shaking her head. "But try not to drive him crazy, okay? He’s very committed to the rules, you know we said not to get involved with relatives."

Your laughter filled the room. "Oh, sure, the famous rules. But you really believe that Jobe is so respectful of those rules?" you asked with a mischievous smile.

Elena glanced at you one last time, as if she had guessed that maybe, that time, Jobe would have more trouble keeping his commitment. And as she left the room, you stayed with a smirk on your lips, anticipating lunch with an entirely new enthusiasm.

---

After a few moments, you felt the door open, and on the other side was Jobe, who took a deep breath before greeting your parents with a polite smile.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Smith!" he said in a gentle and respectful tone.

"Hi, Jobe!" they replied as they entered. Elena, immediately afterwards, embraced Jobe warmly. "Hi, Jobe! Thank you for the invitation," he said, with a radiant smile, before going to say goodbye to Denise and Mark.

Jobe watched Elena move with ease, greeting her parents affectionately, but then a different sound caught his attention: the slight ticking of your boots on the floor. When he turned to you, for a moment he lost his voice.

Your simple but flawless look and short skirt inevitably attracted her gaze, and Jobe felt hot. The mind gave him warning signals, reminding him of all the rules and the duty to keep control, but apparently the heart had different intentions.

You immediately noticed his surprised expression and, amused, you let out a flirtatious smile. You let your gaze rest on him, walking slowly from head to toe with a note of malice, letting him know that you noticed the effort he put into his look.

"Well, look who’s dressed up today," you commented in a provocative tone, raising an eyebrow and making him feel even more awkward. "It almost seems like you’ve been trying to impress."

Jobe swallowed, feeling the redness rise to his cheeks, but he forced himself to respond with a shy smile. "Uh... thank you, Y/N. You too... you’re very pretty," she stuttered, trying to mask her own agitation.

You laughed, amused by his reaction, and slightly tilted your head as if to study him a little more. "Just 'pretty'? I’d say you can do better," you replied, giving him a friendly look before passing it to enter the house.

Jobe stood still for a moment, trying to recover, as he watched you walk towards the living room. Inside, he felt a storm of conflicting emotions: between the desire to follow his heart and the commitment to respect the rules of his friendship with Elena.