#How many of the songs are about her you may ask???? fucking all of them!!!!! the jackal is HER mother dipshit

[l0stfoster]

You already know who it is, back on my bullshit 👉👉 not here for paul this time (SHOCKING)

So , darry. Darrel Curtis. My boy my baby. I just have like ,, general things i want to know more about so bare with me bc hes my fav alongside paul ofc and i can ramble

1. When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

2. Ik his powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control ?

3. Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isnt real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if i had that power id be scared to mfing death

4. Goddammit im mentioning paul again sorry but ik darry calls paul pretty boy (heart hands i love that) but does paul call darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

5. Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before him and paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt paul holden then to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

Okay thats all for now b4 i go literally insane but i may be back bc i have questions abt other couples 😼😼😼

You’re so fucking real for the Darry enjoyment too I also adore him he’s such a guy. Both in canon and in the au, I need to kiss him on the forehead. DARRY YAP TIME (Crow will be so joyous)

Timewing got really excited about this one so a lot of the answers are his, I just added on afterward with my thoughts, so the first bullet point will be hers, and the second one is mine!!

When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

- I assume he tried to crush it or break it violently enough that it needed to be amputated. One way of the latter reason probably would've been falling off the roof of the house back first. One way of the former reason is heading out to a field and trying to slam a hay bale on it. - I personally like to think he'd gone far enough to get his hands on a spare tire from their father's truck and,, crunch! It was the only way he could think of doing enough damage while getting away with it since the car had issues enough to need active little fixes and tweaks, including tire changes. He was around 17 or 18 during all of this, by the way. Unlike his ears, this isn't one his family knows was purposeful.

His powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control?

- There are so many instances but it happens more so when he's stressed. There were a few situations where during tests during school he accidentally ended up making an entire class of 20+ students so anxious a few were sent home and a couple jocks had panic attacks. Another instance was (using the musical for this) when he and Soda were brought in to be asked abt Pony's whereabouts and he got so pissed off with the questioning that he also heightened the officer's anger and nearly got himself arrested. Also the rumble. I think that speaks for itself. - A couple other instances I can think of are after their parents died, when Dally got shot, and uh. The entirety of the duration that Pony was gone, though that was mostly him heightening his own distraught compared to anyone else. He probably does it every now and then at work too during rough work days, which makes for some interesting occurences.

Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isn't real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if I had that power I'd be scared to mfing death.

- Absolutely. He stresses abt it every second of every minute of every hour of every day. - A little fact that Darry doesn't know, though, is that after Paul's powers are presented he has a level of resistance to certain types of curse-related powers! He's not immune, per se, but Darry's manipulation, Soda's song, and Johnny's death sense are all a little lowered; this is because he's in the direct bloodline of the witch who cursed Tulsa. In the way that Johnny can't see Paul's death date (but can get flashes of it), Soda's siren song is easier for Paul to break himself out of and he can tolerate Darry's manipulation for a little longer before caving into it. Parry fans can rest easy knowing that Paul's love for Darry is 100% genuine. Unfortunately, Darry does not know that </3

Goddammit Im mentioning Paul again sorry but ik Darry calls Paul pretty boy (heart hands I love that) but does Paul call Darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

- It's mostly the Latin nicknames that get him. He may not know what the hell Paul is saying but he's in love with it anyway. But he's also especially fond of being called the ever so typical "sugar" - Yeah it's just a bunch of Latin and then the usually sappy ones. Darling, Doll, etc. Paul hits him with “Optimum accidit mihi” ("The best thing to happen to me") once and Darry would actually fold if he knew it.

Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before he and Paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after Paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt Paul Holden than to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

- I imagine maybe once but there was also when he went hunting for Two's stolen feathers and was... scary. He's a scary dude, no one wants to mess with a fae that has that much muscle and is probably not afraid to bite you. - I also agree that,, yyyyeah, Darry is arguably one of the greasers to get jumped the least, including post-book. He works a lot too, so it's not like there are many open instances for him to walk around. Darry definitely told Paul any weaknesses that did exist, but I like to imagine Paul kept those real tight to his chest- He absolutely used them himself during their time hating each other, but could never get himself to tell the other socs; it was a level of trust he couldn't bring himself to break, especially since Darry had seen and heard his own share of things from Paul that he never spilled. The Socs also didn't know that Darry was what Paul valued the most; sure, Paul was very clearly into him, buuuut they make their own assumptions regarding his sexuality and how things go relating to it-

-I could definitely imagine a scenario where they attempt to sabotage Darry and Paul's relationship out of spite if they knew how dedicated Paul is.

[jonahmagnus]

2024 is the year of the woman. Reblog and tell me about the female blorbo that everybody gets wrong and why.

[astonmartinii]

it must be a sign | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem deaf! red bull engineer!reader

when the two most unbothered people in the paddock combine their joint powers to be the it couple

request sent by the lovely @bibissparkles xx

author's note: heyyy so many of you won't know but i am actually deaf - i am 50% deaf in both ears and wear hearing aids so i love requests like this! (all i do most of this stuff as a deaf person, turning off your hearing aids >)

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 302,446 others

yourusername: you can't complain about the dutch national anthem when you can just turn your hearing aids off

view all comments

user1: the way max's engineer is as sick of that damn song as us

user2: turning off her hearing aids makes how bored she looks during podiums make sense

yourusername: it was a banger during the mercedes dominance but would it kill someone to play the australian anthem

danielricciardo: i knew you missed me

yourusername: sure, jan.

user3: her and max signing slay to each other will always be so personal to me

maxverstappen1: gonna pretend you didn't just say that

yourusername: boo hoo babe, you gotta lose something sometimes

user4: babe? are the flowers from max?

maxverstappen1: would rather choke on my own spit and fall into a pit of snakes, hope this helps ❤️

yourusername: rude! i wouldn't want flowers from you either :(

user5: i swear we get into this argument every weekend, i think people will still assume they're together until their married to other people

liamlawson30: stop using me as a messenger pigeon please and thank you

yourusername: but i thought red bull gave you wings?

liamlawson30: do not use a pr answer against me 🤨

yourusername: no comment

liamlawson30: choke.

yourusername: idk what's going on in the red bull junior academy but spit in helmut's coffee not mine

user6: y/n consistently giving all the red bull guys shit is my favourite thing ever

user7: the amount of times the sky broadcast has caught her waving them off or taking her hearing aids out lol

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 782,309 others

oscarpiastri: switched four tyres for two this weekend

view all comments

user11: you can't distract us with your slutty bike pics WHO THE FUCK IS THAT

landonorris: A WOMAN? A WOMAN? IS THAT A WOMAN OSCAR JACK PIASTRI?

oscarpiastri: yeah i'm pretty sure

landonorris: don't play smart with me buster - why was i not informed?

oscarpiastri: i don't ask to be informed of every time you get rejected in the instagram dms

landonorris: FAKE NEWS

oscarpiastri: okay buddy

user12: i be seeing the sign language book, oscar you are so real for that

user13: that's my king, i need a oscar and y/n link up in the paddock - my unbothered queens

user14: she's in the likes !!!!!!

logansargent: oh we've entered the soft launch phase i see

oscarpiastri: and what?

logansargent: someone is feeling defensive this morning, dude i won't tell i've already kept it a secret for so long

landonorris: HE KNOWS? DOES BEING YOUR TEAMMATE MEAN NOTHING?

oscarpiastri: he's my childhood best friend?

logansargent: there's levels to this game norris

landonorris: @oscarpiastri consider yourself UNDER SURVEILLANCE

oscarpiastri: okay girly

user15: oscar has the patience of a saint, the mystery gal may want to rethink it before having to deal with them all

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 381,044 others

yourusername: unrelaxed, unbothered, moisturised ✨

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user18: queen SHIT THAT AIN'T SHIT

user19: but this mystery man IS

maxverstappen1: yeah sorry about that... but at least boyfy has made his instagram debut?

yourusername: about time, he's too sexy to gatekeep

maxverstappen1: well i'm not going to agree out of respect for you

yourusername: so you don't think he's sexy? i might not be able to hear but HE CAN MAX BE NICE

maxverstappen1: first of all it's a text, second of all i've been way too nice to him

yourusername: he beat you in padel fair and square you're just SHIT AT IT ❤️

maxverstappen1: you know that's a sore subject WHY WOULD YOU BRING IT UP

user20: my queen was really like you wanna tell me to fuck off? oh here's my sexy boyfriend

user21: jos verstappen really didn't know who he was tangling with that gal may be chill but she doesn't take shit

user22: she's like a female version of oscar lol

user23: i knew there was a reason i liked her

this comment was liked by yourusername

danielricciardo: why am i left out of everything these days?

yourusername: snooze you lose

danielricciardo: I AM AWAKE REPLY TO MY TEXTS

danielricciardo: I JUST SAW YOU PUT YOUR PHONE ON DO NOT DISTURB

yourusername: protecting my peace

danielricciardo: i'm on to you buster

oscarpiastri

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,209,455 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: overjoyed to get my first (proper) win in formula one and even more overjoyed to have my amazing girlfriend (and even better engineer) up on the podium with me

view all comments

user27: so this was the special occasion?

user28: so this is why she said she wanted the australian national anthem over the dutch one?

user29: this is now my roman empire

yourusername: babe is so fucking good and i'm so fucking proud

oscarpiastri: i'm so glad to have been able to share this moment with you

yourusername: you deserve this and more, i love you

oscarpiastri: i love you too xx

user30: wait so oscar knows so much more sign language than i thought

user31: he looked so excited and even mark knows some

logansargent: he forced (we were happy to do so) me, mark and his family to learn as soon as he secured the date lol

oscarpiastri: and now we're all so cool because of it

logansargent: cool and able to chat shit without people knowing what we're saying

yourusername: best bit about it tbf (everyone please learn, it's a beautiful language)

landonorris: I KNEW IT

oscarpiastri: no you didn't

landonorris: no i didn't :( i'm hurt

oscarpiastri: if it's any consolation, we didn't tell many people, max and logan are exceptions

landonorris: WHY WAS I NOT AN EXCEPTION???

yourusername: boo hoo

landonorris: i'm not gonna say anything back to that you kinda scare me

yourusername: good ❤️

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri and 529,778 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & oscarpiastri

yourusername: me and a racewinner (and our world champion third wheel)

view all comments

user32: fave trio in the paddock no competition

logansargent: logan erasure

yourusername: we love you logan, sunday roast at mine this weekend ❤️

logansargent: SCORE

user33: every time you post there's a new plushie

yourusername: we usually get one to commemorate a big weekend and we both got one for osc's first win

user34: that's so FUCKING CUTE

oscarpiastri: it's all fun and games until you don't fit in the bed because y/n feels too bad to put any of them on the floor

yourusername: they have FEELINGS OSCAR

oscarpiastri: she cried one time when max set off the smoke alarm cooking breakfast and the bed alarm shook so bad that all of them were thrown to the floor

yourusername: it was HARROWING but it also did wake me up so at least we know it works

maxverstappen1: actually my favourite couple to third wheel, but enjoy it while it's here osc, i won't lose again

yourusername: yeah sorry osc it's actually my job to help max win so you're gonna have to wait for him to retire if i have anything to do with it

oscarpiastri: not even for me :(

yourusername: sorry not sorry (i'm really sorry, i love you so much)

oscarpiastri: i love you too even if you won't sabotage max for my race :(

maxverstappen1: okay i know i said you guys are cute but that's enough for today

yourusername: we ARE cute thank you

oscarpiastri: the CUTEST

fin.

note: heheheheh i hope you enjoyed this, i love requests like this xx also on the comment about the bed alarm i had one in uni halls and when the alarm went off that baby SHOOK it was kinda scary

[rinsoap]

THEM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND!

includes : ken ryuguji and baji keisuke. they are in their late teens/early 20s.

note : UR WELCOME TO THE FOURTEEN REQS IN MY INBOX BEGGING FOR BAJI CONTENT! i was gonna write mitsuya and mikey but i got tired lol

ken ryuguji as your boyfriend.

he loves taking you out on his bike. he likes how you hold him so tightly, and he likes the feeling of your cheek pressed against his back. when you first asked him, he was a little wary at first because he was kind of scared you might get hurt, but who was he to say no to his girl?

the girls at the brothel fucking love you. you exchange makeup tips and self care remedies, they pinch your cheek and tell you how cute you are. "hi love, what are you doing here looking so pretty!? ain't she pretty, kenny? yeahh he thinks so, look at him, he's blushing" "'course i think she's pretty, i'm the one dating her" oh and they love to give you life advice too; men, money, independance, all of it. draken is embarassed by how they act, but you think it's sweet.

he hates being posted to your socials. he's cool with it if his face isn't in the picture, but he values his privacy. his own social media presence is practically nonexistent, other than one highlight with one story from your birthday of you holding flowers he got you. the song he posted to you is my girl by the temptations.

though he likes his privacy, he does like pda. not intense pda, it's not like y'all have your tongues down each other's throats in public or anything, but he likes a lil kiss here n there. his arm around your waist, or your fingers intertwined with his. a kiss on your shoulder, and always one on your lips before you part. and while he doesn’t typically like to make a scene, when he misses you its a whole different story. he loves when you run to him when you see him after being away from each other for far too long, throwing your arms around his shoulders and his wrap around your waist to spin you around, peppering the side of your face with kisses as you tell him how much you missed him through giggles. "missed you too, angel," a kiss on your jaw. "i'm sorry i've been so busy lately," a kiss on your cheek "'m gonna make it up to you though, i promise." a kiss on your lips. yeah, it's that kind of pda.

he will call you so many pet names, it's not even funny. they're out of his mouth before he even realizes it. it's not like he hides his loving side exactly, it's just that with you, he gets to be a whole other type of gushy. his friends make fun of him whenever they get a glimpse of his softer side when he speaks to you, but he does not care!!! he'll never stop calling you his pretty princess or kissing your cheek or holding all your bags when you go shopping just because his friends think he's whipped. he would happily admit that they're right!!

baji keisuke as your boyfriend.

he may come across as cold, but make no mistake, physical touch is his love language. he always finds himself gravitating to touching you, even in public. whether he's holding your hand or resting his head on your shoulder or tracing hearts and stars into the skin of your thigh, he just wants to touch you!!! in private, it is so much more egregious. he'll be on top of you, attacking you with kisses, hands roaming over your skin. he loves when you sleep over because then he can extend his time to cuddle with you. he likes little spoon and big spoon equally, he just wants SOMEONE to be held!!!

he has and will fight someone for you, absolutely no question. he doesn't exactly get jealous, you express how much you love him enough for him to have interalized it, but he does let a threat or two slip out when a man's flirting with you right in front of him. when someone is being creepy to you, yes, he has been known to throw a couple punches. he'll stop when you ask!! its not like he's batshit!!!! when he's finished, you tend to his wounds. muttering about how stupid he is but giving him a kiss to his temple.

he knows how obsessed you are with his hair. he watches you from the corner of his eye, staring lip tucked between your teeth as he puts it up. he complains, but he secretly loves it. "man you treat me like some slut" "true i'm just using you for your hair. one day you'll wake up bald and i'll be half way across the country with a ziploc bag full of your beautiful hair" "i hate you" he loves lying on top of you, cheek pressed against your chest as you run your fingers through your hair. he always ends up mumbling how much he loves you when your fingers find their way into his hair. he also lets you play around with different hairstyles too! his favourite will always be a half up half down moment :p

he calls you bro more than actual pet names tbh. generally, he doesn't use a lot of pet names because he'd rather call you by your name, but when he's being extra sweet or when he's tired, he'll use them. you love how cute he is when he's about to fall asleep, he starts going on and on about how much he loves his pretty girl. "soo sweet to me, love you soo much... my lovely girl... my love" he'll whisper into your neck, not even knowing exactly what he's saying himself as his eyes slowly flutter shut. when he's in a good mood he'll greet you with a lil "hey baby" or "hello perfect beautiful girlfriend" bc he's annoying like that 😞

he can ALWAYS tell when something is wrong. a clench of your jaw or a slight falter in your eyes, he immediately knows. he'll ask about it as soon as he picks up on it. he's surprisingly very good at comforting. he'll listen as long as you need him to, he'll give you a temple kiss, a gesture that quickly became a sign of love and understanding in your relationship. he'll kiss you on one, then the other, and add "to ease your mind." and you laugh because it's corny, and he rolls his eyes and claims he's never doing a nice thing for you again, but he grabs your hand to take you out to eat because he knows food is the best comfort.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hobie brown (spider-punk!!) is giving me severe brain rot, i love him sm 😭

if you ever decide to write for him, could you do some relationship hcs??

ty ^^

Not sure wether this is what you wanted but I hope it was worth it.

Music from the heart:

One of the most obvious ones is that Hobie would have a plethora of songs about you, it’s fucking adorable and so sweet, and so he would play them for you within the comfort of your room because where else would you rather be serenaded?

If anything it makes the moment more special and memorable for the both of you as something you can look back on with fondness.

Though you probably try teasing him one day by asking how many more songs of you he had in the works and Hobie would either say ‘too many to count.’ Or ‘a whole albums worth.’ He’s not going to hide the fact that he’s got notebook after notebook filled with song lyrics dedicated to you.

Pda though not quite:

Hobie isn’t the type to heavily involve himself in PDA but isn’t against the likes of:

holding hands.

his hand being placed on the small of your back when guiding you somewhere else.

the classic arm over the shoulder.

Thigh holding

His/ your head resting on each others shoulders and or laps.

Guitar pick:

This one came to my head out of the blue but I’m gonna add it here even though I’m not too certain but here it is anyway:

if Hobie uses guitar picks to play his guitar -which he probs doesn’t but idk- I’d like to think he’d make you a guitar pick necklace from one of his old picks.

Sure he hates gifts and such but this is the sole expectation alongside any and all handcrafted jewellery you may give him because he wears that shit with pride.

Terms of endearment:

Love

Darling

Sweetheart

Impromptu sleepovers:

Hobie crashes at your place more often then not to the point he might as well be living with you in regards of how often he leaves something of his at yours, so much so you’ve begun to wonder if he was doing it intentionally or accidentally.

Either way you made sure that his stay was comfortable by having a makeshift bed set up for him so he didn’t have to constantly sleep on the uncomfortable couch and wake up with a crooked neck.

Hobie appreciates all that you do for him but would often tell you it’s not necessary but you weren’t about to get into a discussion about whether or not he was deserving of help because the answer was obvious and that answer would always and forever will be; yes.

Also he’s a bit of a cuddle bug but only with you but that’s your little secrete.

Date nights:

Most, if not all of your dates are either just the pair of you being your natural selves in the comfort of your own home where’d you would talk about anything and everything that came to your mind, free of judgment.

or

showing Hobie your undying love and support by showing up to his gigs and scream the loudest because he is talented as shit and deserves a lot more in your eyes.

Either way as long as you were within each others company, anywhere you both went could be considered a date.

Spidey business:

Now this is all dependant on wether or not you know he’s Spider-Man:

If you did then you’d probably would help him patch up his wounds after every fight he had

Or

If you weren’t due to Hobie wanting nothing more then to keep you and that life as far from each other as possible, you’d most definitely would be concerned when you see him with any sustained injuries he tried patching up himself.

No matter how hard you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, Hobie would just tell you it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Meeting his friends/ Bragging rights:

Before introducing you to the likes of Pavitr, Miles and Gwen(if you haven’t already met her), it’s almost an 100% guarantee that he brags about you anyway he knows how which only intrigues them more and more to the point they’re just pleading with Hobie to introduce his cool, kickass partner to them.

So when he does, the three are practically hounding you about your relationship with Hobie and when you looked back at him for help in wrangling in his over excited friends, the little shit merely smirks and shrugs his shoulders as though he had no idea they’d react like this, all the while leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest; happy to see all his favourite people he cares about a lot interacting with one another to the point that by the end of the day you’re very good friends with each of them.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + nine

authors note: i know i've said this before, but this one might be my favorite. there are a few subtle hints spread throughout as well.....

i also listened to the song i named the story after while writing most of this chapter, so maybe recommended listening?

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

cw/tw: fluff, angst, language, inebriation, character being triggered, references to past csa, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 12k (i can't be stopped, clearly)

And I see a girl Who is learning to trust

---Leann Rimes

In many ways, Roman is a simple man. The kind that believes obvious gestures, actions, or even lack of inaction should speak for itself. That there are some things that are just so clear as day, it doesn’t make sense for him to have to explain himself. 

For him to have to repeat himself. 

Well, that’s gone out the window as of recent months, because he’s constantly found himself having to do just that. And his day is starting off no different with a surprising and unwanted guest showing up at his office demanding to speak to him.

Bayley stands across his desk with her arms crossed and an almost glare on her face. “I’ve been texting you.”

The fact that she even has his number is an issue in and of itself, but he’ll tackle that another day. “I’m aware.”

The avoiding of said texts is that obvious thing that she seemingly doesn’t understand the why behind. 

Bayley nods, very visibly keeping in a comment she’s at least smart enough to not make to the head of the Bloodline. Friend of his wife, or not. “Well, I would like to talk to you.”

Roman rolls his eyes, moving up from his desk to his filing cabinet to swap out expense reports he was trying to review before her rude, unwanted interruption. “I bet you would.”

“Seriously?” Ignoring her once again is the plan, Roman hoping that’s all it takes so that he doesn’t have to lose his temper before he even has his first meeting of the day. “It’s about Solana.”

And that is what finally catches Roman’s attention. He’s quick to turn around, expression suddenly hardened. “Talk.” She has his full attention. “Now.” 

Bayley takes note of how easily it is to gather Roman’s attention with the simple mention of Solana. It’s surprising to say the least and telling as hell to say the most, but she keeps this little observation to herself. 

“We’re having a Cinco De Mayo celebration at my family’s restaurant tomorrow night.”

“What does that have to do with Solana?”

Roman watches her hesitate for a second. “I want to invite her.”

For a split second, Bayley thinks she may have hit a stroke of luck when Roman doesn’t immediately shoot down her request. He seems to actually be thinking about it. And then he asks the question she knew would be the nail in the coffin. “Will Escobar be there?”

She’d like to just say no, as it’s highly unlikely he will attend, Bayley unsure if her cousin is even in the country. But, lying to the man before her has never turned out well for anyone, so she answers as honestly as she can. “I don’t know. You know he pops up at random times—”

Roman doesn’t even need to hear the rest. “My answer is no.”

She can’t be too surprised. Bayley wisely anticipated getting Roman to budge would be damn near impossible, if not entirely impossible.

“Roman—”

“Why the fuck would I allow her to be anywhere around that son of a bitch?”

To be fair, Roman’s relationship with Santos Escobar is tamer than most. They’re not allies, certainly not friends, and he doesn’t hate the man. It irritates him a bit how Escobar is a stubborn bastard and refuses to pledge loyalty and allegiance to the Bloodline, but that anger is eased by the fact that Escobar gives an even bigger middle finger to the Nightmare Factory.

His loyalty is to himself and the Legado Del Fantasma. That makes him a wildcard and potentially dangerous.

Roman won’t have Solana anywhere where danger could be present.

“You know as well as I do that while both you and my cousin have this weird ass Qué en es más macho thing going on, there’s all but a ceasefire. You've never attacked one of his men the same way he’s never attacked anyone in the Bloodline. That’s not going to change overnight just because your wife is present at a chorcha.”

Roman isn’t too full of himself to admit when someone has made a valid point, but as this involves Solana, the standards are a bit different. He won’t give Bayley that much. “Why should I even take the chance? You want to do something with Solana, take her somewhere else that’s on Bloodline or neutral territory.”

“My family’s restaurant is on neutral territory.” Bayley is happy to have another point of his she can counter. “And contrary to what the average, ignorant American thinks, Cinco De Mayo is an important part of our culture and our heritage, Solana’s heritage. I think she would really enjoy herself, that it would….that it would help her feel close to her mom.”

Roman is excellent in the way he remains absolutely unreadable even at Bayley’s point that has him seriously reconsidering his prior answer.

He has no doubt that would help her feel connected with her mom, being around reminders and in a space that’s so representative of half of who she is, who her mother was. He can’t see her not enjoying herself, which is something that doesn’t seem to happen a lot in her life thus far.

Just as he continues to mull over the options, Bayley adds on another defense. “I get where you’re coming from with the safety angle, but I’ll be there and Naomi will be there. Between the two of us, no one will touch her.”

Roman easily reads between the lines and identifies her unspoken request. “You don’t want Solo there.”

On one hand, he can understand it. Bayley not wanting his Enforcer there. Solo’s presence could be seen as him potentially scoping versus the real reason of serving as Solana’s personal guard.

Bayley doesn’t seem to be backing down, reminding with all the confidence in the world of her capabilities. “Like I said, Naomi and I got this.”

Roman will give her that. Bayley and Naomi could fight on his team any day. They’re just as brutal as the men, if not more when pushed. He knows they’d be able to keep Solana safe if need be. It’s that realization as well as the concern of depriving her of something that could make her happy that brings him to a revised answer.

“Fine, she can go.” Roman is quick to add on as an ominous warning, borderline threat, “but if anything fucking happens to her while she’s with you—”

“It won’t,” Bayley vows. “She’s our friend, and she’s family to Naomi. We look out for each other.”

Roman believes that. Believes that Bayley has seemingly pledged a loyalty to Solana that matches that of Naomi, and while he’d never fucking tell her this, he’s grateful she has someone like Bayley to talk to.

At his fill of socialization with people he doesn’t like, Roman is quick with the dismissal. “If you don’t have anything else to discuss with me about Solana, you can get the hell out of my office.”

Bayley is actually surprised she made it this long without being kicked out, so it’s under her breath she mutters, “a true gentleman.” She’s halfway to his door when manners get the best of her. “Hey, Roman.”

He’s back at his desk, gaze as irritated as when she first stepped in. “What?”

With a nod of respect and appreciation, she simply says, “thank you.” Whatever his response, or lack thereof, is after that is unknown because Bayley is out the door and on her way to invite Solana to what is sure to be a night of fun.

________

“Man, I tell you every dish Solana makes seems to get better and better.” Jimmy is rubbing his stomach as he places the now cleaned plate on the coffee table. “Where she been at all our lives?”

Once upon a time, Roman had a nice, quiet house that was his and his alone. Now though, it’s shared with a wife who really isn’t an issue, two obnoxious cousins who need to start paying rent at this point, and a dog who’s currently at the sliding door leading to the backyard having a one-sided bark off with a squirrel.

“Why are ya’ll always fucking over here?” Roman’s question is said with all the irritation manifesting in his muscular body. At the same time, he stands up from the sofa to retrieve the puppy he doesn’t feel like yelling at to shut up. 

She might piss herself in fear or something.

“Come on,” he grunts, leaning over and taking up Dulce who is almost instantly quiet. “Making all that damn noise for nothing.”

Roman places Dulce in her bed in the living room and returns to his previous seat on the sofa when she hops up and walks her ass right over to lean up on the sofa to stare at him with her unspoken request.

Jimmy is the first to notice this. “I think lil Nacho Libre likes you, Uce.”

Jey chimes in between bites of whatever Solana’s latest dish is that she’s made for them. “She know English yet or Soso still got her only speaking Spanish?”

“Man, the dog can’t speak.”

“You know what I mean, motherfucker. Damn.”

Roman ignores the two imbeciles currently freeloading in his house and relents to just letting Dulce on the sofa. He’s not sure why she’s downstairs with them instead off on the second level where the girls are getting ready, but she’s already here now, so no sense in transporting her. 

Dulce seems satisfied with her placement right next to him. 

“I still can’t believe we weren’t invited.”

“I can get why they didn’t invite us, but they could have at least given Nicki an invite.”

Jimmy is quick with the obvious answer. “You know Nicki don’t fuck with Naomi like that, or Bayley, and definitely not Soso.”

“Cause she’s fucking psychotic.” Roman has zero issues with his cousin’s wife having little to no interest in getting to know Solana. It’s for the better. As he said, the bitch is psychotic.

“Once again, Big Dog, you ain’t gon keep disrespecting my wife like that.”

Roman is as unfazed by Jey’s threat as Dulce is. 

“I gotta agree with Uce on that one. Nicki ass crazy as hell. One minute she love you, the next minute she pulling a Left Eye and burning your shit.” That emits a chuckle from him. His cousin's sneaker collection being burned in the backyard that one year was pretty funny. 

“Look, that was during a rough patch. That’s all.”

“Damn bruh, ya’ll must got a whole goddamn quilt then, cause your relationship been nothing but rough patches since we was in high school.”

“So what, you and Naomi never have no issues, huh?” Jey lives up to his hotheaded reputation, jumping into defensive mode. “Ya’ll just got the perfect marriage, right?”

“Of course we got issues, man, but never to the point where she turned into a lil arsonist!”

Completely disinterested in hearing dumb and dumber argue, Roman grabs his phone and shoots out a text.

Roman: You almost ready?

Solana’s reply comes in less than five minutes later.

Solana: Just about…..is Dulce by you?

Roman: Yeah. Sleeping….as always.

Solana: Lol….sorry about that, I meant to grab her before we got started.

Roman: It’s fine.

Roman: I need to talk to you before you leave.

He’s not surprised by the longer time it takes for her to reply. He can imagine she’s reading too much into his text.

Solana: Okay....I can come now?

Solana: I just have to put my shoes on….

Roman: I’ll come to you.

Roman knows better than to ask the bumbling idiots to watch Dulce. Their attention span when they get this heated is almost non-existent, so he opts to just take her upstairs with him, figuring he can deposit her in her bed in Solana’s room and that’ll be it for the night. 

One down.

Two more to get rid of.

Roman is standing outside of Solana’s door ready to knock when it’s ripped open, and he’s met with an instantly smiling Naomi. 

She’s smiling at the damn dog, of course.

“There you are, Dulce.” Roman has no issue whatsoever with letting her take the puppy, talking to it in that weird ass baby voice everyone seems to use around Dulce. He doesn’t get it, but it’s not something he desires to try to get anyway. Naomi calls out over her shoulder, “I’m gonna take her out to pee.”

Bayley shouts from inside the room, “I’ll come with you.”

Roman also has zero issues with that as well. He wants to be alone with Solana before she heads out.

Naomi is heading to the steps when Bayley walks past him, throwing out a rushed, “tell her she looks nice.”

That’s a given, but he gives her a nod, easily stepping in and closing the door behind him. He looks around the room, eyes settling on the connected bathroom where the door is suddenly swung open.

“Guys, are you sure I should wear—” Solana stops when she sees that Bayley and Naomi are no longer present, just him. “Oh, sorry, I thought—never mind.”

Roman would call her out on her apologies, both in the text and just now, but his attention is on something entirely different. 

Solana is fucking stunning.

Her dress is orange, thin sleeved and hugs her in a way that makes his jaw clench and dick stiffen. It’s more low cut in the front than he knows she’s probably comfortable with, but if anything, it accentuates just how fucking nice her chest is. There’s a slight split on the side of said dress that shows off her thighs, thick and soft to the touch, he’d imagine. She also has her hair down, something he hasn’t seen in some time, makeup that covers the scar, and lips painted in a teasing red. 

Roman has to catch himself because for a brief second, he’s tempted to completely change his mind. She looks too good to leave the house, especially without him present because there’s not a single doubt in his mind that she’ll turn heads.

She always does. 

Finally, he’s able to get words to leave his mouth that aren’t as filthy as the thoughts he’s trying to keep locked in the back of his mind. “Jesus, you look amazing.”

Roman has noticed an increasingly difficult time in restraining himself around Solana, not in the sense where he’d completely ignore her trauma and try to touch her in a way that would trigger her. Never that. More so in the way he fantasizes about her in that way, dreams of having her in that way, solely because of his growing physical attraction.

Granted, it’s always been there. 

Anyone could see her beauty even in how she would dress down and try to hide her figure, but now that Naomi and Bayley have been encouraging her to be less conservative in her appearance, it’s increased that difficulty exponentially. 

“Thank you.” The makeup on Solana’s cheeks helps to mask her growing blush at Roman’s unabashed compliment. She suddenly looks down, nervously running her hand down the dress. “Is it….is it too much?” 

Not at all. He might not want anyone else looking at her, but Roman could see her dress like this everyday and never grow tired. Still, his approval isn’t needed nor should she ever look for it. “Do you think it is?”

“I always think it’s too much.” It’s an honest answer, one that’s followed up with a caveat he’s surprised but pleased to hear. “But….but, I do like it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Solana’s smile does something to him. She looks even more beautiful when she’s smiling. “Look….” Roman steps closer to her, trying to ignore her perfume, sweet and soft, a dangerous combination that matches her perfectly. “You need anything tonight, you call or text me, alright?” 

She nods and asks. “What about Solo? Isn’t—isn’t that his job?”

It’s not a conscious in as much it is a unconscious thing when he steps even closer to her, moving his hand to the small of her back. Roman gently tugs her toward him, and to his surprise, she doesn’t tense under his touch. “You’re my wife, Solana. My job is always to protect you. He just guards you when I can’t.”

She looks like she’s trying to memorize this piece of information, storing it for future use as necessary knowledge. “Do—do you want to come with us?” Solana’s hand resting on his chest is as surprising as her question. “I could talk to Bayley.”

Roman has never been a social person. To say he hates most people isn’t necessarily an exaggeration. So, the thought of being around a bunch of people he doesn’t know or like outside of Solana and maybe Bayley—she’s not entirely awful—is not appealing as well. That doesn’t stop him, however, from considering the question at hand.

He’s tempted to ask her if she wants him to come, because Roman can find it in himself to withstand socialization for a couple hours. 

He’ll do it for her. 

But, there’s another part of him, a larger part of him that thinks she needs to do this on her own. That she needs to establish a life and something for herself that doesn’t include him. It’ll be good for her.

“No.” Is his final answer, delivered much gentler than if she was literally anyone else. Roman reaches and plays with a piece of her hair. “Not my scene. Too many people.” Not to mention that his presence would draw too much attention, potentially not good attention. He won’t do that to her. Won’t’ risk ruining her night. “Go. Have a good time.” Again, for good measure, he reminds, “but I mean it. Something is wrong. You call me.”

She nods, and he readies to remind her of his need for words when she answers, “okay.” She then adds on, “I already gave Dulce dinner, so she should mostly sleep, but if you could take her outside every so often….”

“I got it.” He’d much rather sacrifice the couple minutes it takes to bring her outside than risk her shitting or pissing somewhere in his house. Granted, he has to give credit where credit is due. She’s doing great with her potty training. Solana takes great care of her, but that’s not surprising. It’s obvious how much she loves the puppy. “You should be back by midnight, though.”

It’s more a strong suggestion than a demand. Solana is a grown woman. He’s not going to dictate what she does and doesn’t do. She’s had enough of that in her life. He had to give his approval for her to go with Bayley because of safety issues, but this, he wants to leave up to her as long as she understands the later she’s out, the riskier things can get.

After a certain time, only bad or not so great things can happen.

“Of course.” She seems to understand this clearly, but he’d also bet that’s her preference to be back earlier than later. Solana grabs her purse and walks towards the door, having to pass him in the process. Roman catches her, arm around her waist. 

She looks up, curious, and he makes note of how she again doesn’t tense under his touch. That’s happening less and less, it seems. 

He likes that. 

“Text me when you get there.”

She smiles, and Roman suddenly feels a layer of his irritation with his cousins melt away. “I will.” Solana gives him one more glance before walking out the room. 

Roman scratches his beard, a part of him wondering if he made the right decision to let her go alone. Granted, he knows he would have never even initially agreed if he didn’t trust Bayley and Naomi’s abilities. 

They’d defend Solana as ruthlessly and violently as any of his best men.

That helps to chip away some of his second guessing along with the fact that this is something she clearly wants, and he wants to give her that. Give her anything he can that makes her happy. 

She deserves that much.  

Granted, that temporary peace is short-lived with the shout from one of his cousins who are apparently still present. 

“Ayo, Big Dog, did you change the WiFi password again!”

________

Roman needs a new house.

Maybe have Solana let him know what she likes as far as interior designing goes and have something built with an impenetrable wall around it.

That seems to be the only thing that will keep his annoying ass twin cousins from being at his place so much.

Roman just knew that when the ladies left, they’d leave too. But no, that’s too good to be true, because they’ve been gone almost an hour, and their asses are still here.

Even Dulce is sleeping peacefully like the unemployed bum that she is in her bed kept in the living room. 

And as always with them, they’ve been talking damn near the whole hour. One would think Roman straight up ignoring them as he works on his laptop would be a clear sign they need to go the hell home, but that would be too much like right.

He either needs an Excedrin or for his cousins to leave, the latter being preferred most. It’s especially needed when they seem to be watching whatever dumb ass Tok or Reel video over and over again. 

“Wait. I know that song,” Jey announces, face scrunched up as he tries to recall the name. All Roman knows is that it’s in Spanish and repetitive as hell on top of being played on repeat. Annoying as hell too. “That lil freak from Miami I used to mess with used to have this shit playing at her crib all the time.”

Jimmy sucks his teeth, asking. “What happened to her?”

“Man, she moved.” Jey shrugs. “She went to go be a freak in Cali.” 

Finally, Roman snaps. “Would ya’ll use some damn headphones or something?”

Jimmy is the first to speak. “You might want to watch this, Uce.”

“I don’t care.”

Jey slaps Jimmy on the arm, knowing how to get his cousin’s attention. “Yeah, why would he want to see a video of Solana?”

At that, Roman lifts his gaze.

Jimmy smirks knowingly. “Naomi sent some videos. Check your phone.”

That would explain it. Why Roman was out of the loop. It wasn’t from Solana. 

He’d selected a specific text and ringtone notification for her, so he wouldn’t be unnecessarily checking his phone. Hence why he hasn’t checked it since she text that they’d made it to the restaurant.

Opening up the thread that has himself, Naomi, and the twins, he sees the set of messages and videos.

Naomi: Having a blast! Solana especially. I kinda feel like the odd one out cause clearly I don’t know none of these dances 😩 I kinda got the Bachata one, but Merengue and Punta are killing me.

Naomi: Bay and Solana keep trying to teach me, but it’s not going well lmao

Roman watches them all. Every video shows Solana smiling and laughing as she dances with Bayley and Naomi. One of the videos shows her and Bayley trying to instruct Naomi who seems to be failing miserably at learning what he’d guess are traditional Hispanic dances. There’s even a clip of her trying to help a little girl learn whatever dance they’re doing, and she looks just as patient as he’s seen her with the kids she reads to at the library.

She looks fucking gorgeous and happy.

He likes that for her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves all of the happiness.

But, it’s in watching the last video with the song that he kept hearing on loop from his cousin’s phone that he understands why they have it on repeat.

It’s a different kind of dance Bayley and Solana do together along with other women he doesn’t know or give two fucks about. What he gives a fuck about and focuses in entirely on is the way Solana’s hips and ass move, rhythmically, teasingly, drawing out an uncomfortable tightening in his pants.

Fuck. 

Roman does his best to push his erotic thoughts away, still trying to figure out how to balance his sexual desire for Solana with the knowledge of her sexual trauma. It almost feels wrong, to feel and want her in that way when he knows how traumatizing that subject is for her. It doesn’t stop the desire though.

“Damn, I knew it had to move, just not like that.” 

“Like water.”

It’s probably a combination of his pent up usual, general and sexual frustration, but the dangerously slow way Roman lifts his head and equally slow way he sets his murderous gaze on his cousins is all they need to see to know they’ve gone too far.

And they know it.

Jimmy is instantly on damage control. “I meant—Bayley—you know, cause she—she’s also thick.”

Jey coughs awkwardly, hitting Jimmy on the arm. “I think, uh, we should—we should head out.” And Roman is just as slowly rising from the sofa when the twins literally almost trip over their feet and make a mad dash for the door. 

It takes a couple minutes for him to calm down, and he too suddenly finds himself watching said video, casually commenting to Dulce, “about time they fucking left.”

Dulce barks in agreement. 

________

Solana laughs along with Bayley and Naomi as they plop down in their seats after an almost four minute song of full out merengue. All are reaching for their respective drinks as Bayley playfully nudges Solana. 

“Aren’t you glad you came?”

Just then, Juanita Escobar walks over, Bayley’s mother who carries the same dimple and friendly disposition. She places her hand on Solana’s back, reminding in Spanish, “you must come back and see us again!”

Solana smiles, agreeing, “I will.” She then looks over at Bayley. “If that’s okay?”

Bayley waves her off. “Are you kidding? With how soft and girly you are, you can come be my replacement any time” 

Juanita glares at her youngest, muttering to Solana, “maybe you can rub off on my Bay, hmm? Never wanted to do girl stuff. Always wanted to fight with the boys.”

Bayley chugs back some of her drink. “Hell yeah.”

Solana thinks she’d prefer the fighting too. Maybe then she could have defended herself better. Defended her mom even.

Juanita shakes her head, looking at Solana. “Yes, come again, child. You look so much like someone, but I can’t put my hand on it. I’m sure my husband would know. He knows everyone.”

That doesn't necessarily make Solana want to come back, meeting someone, a man specifically. However, if he’s anything like Bayley or Juanita, maybe…maybe it won’t be so bad.

And maybe…maybe she could ask Roman to come with her. That’d make her feel moderately to significantly better. Safer, even.

Juanita is soon pulled away from the table by a customer at the same moment Solana’s phone rings.

Roman: You good?

Solana: Yes. 

She bites down on her lip, contemplating if she should hit send on her message. It feels like a risky thing to say, but it’s also how she feels.

And he’s always telling her to be honest with him.

So she is. 

Solana: Kinda wish you would have came.

Her fingers nervously tap against the table as she wait for his reply that ends up coming almost immediately. 

Roman: That’s your world. Not mine.

Roman: Do you not feel safe?

Solana: No, not that. I guess…...Nvm.

Roman: Tell me.

Again, more hesitation, and she’s not entirely sure where this desire to be honest and almost vulnerable with him comes from, but she does her best not to push it away, almost welcoming the slight discomfort that comes with sending such a risky text.

Solana: Idk, I feel better when you’re around. 

He doesn’t reply after that.

Bayley and Naomi share a knowing expression, having watched Solana quietly for the past few minutes. Naomi ends up being the one to lead the conversation. “So how are things going with Roman?”

The question takes her off guard, Solana trying her best to think just how to handle said question.

Roman no longer confuses her. Not nearly as much as her feelings about him confuse her. 

She wasn’t lying. She does feel better when she’s around him. And it’s not even that she feels unsafe currently. It’s just that he makes her feel safe in general. That’s such a foreign concept. One she hasn’t experienced in such a long time. 

If ever.

Because the truth of the matter is that while Solana felt an indescribable amount of happiness with her mother, there was never really safety. Not with her father’s wrath always waiting around the corner.

So while this is new and unfamiliar, it’s also nice, and she finds herself enjoying his presence. She likes being around him beyond the safety aspect. The way he talks to and with her, like he genuinely enjoys their conversations. When he meets her for work and asks how her day was or finds her in the house to see how her day was, it makes her feel like he actually cares about what she has to say.

Like he actually cares about her.

It’s such a stark contrast of how she sees him interact with others. Always on edge, it seems. 

He’s never made her feel that way though. Maybe at the beginning, but that’s starting to feel less like anything he’s done and more like her own trauma.

Trauma….

That’s also been an interesting experience. For the past few weeks, she’s worked out of The Courage to Heal, reading every page as instructed. And it’s been….an emotional time, to say the least. Definitely tears. A lot of them. Mostly shed in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep or on the bathroom floor as she sits against the tub, reading and writing, Dulce right beside her, offering that unspoken emotional support.

It’s been therapeutic and challenging and awful having to confront her demons but also freeing in a strange sort of way. Especially the poems. The words of other victims who express so eloquently and hauntingly beautifully what she still cannot. 

One of the things she’s really latched onto and tries to remind herself of is that there are different kinds of touch. Because of the assault, her brain has naturally associated any kind of touch as dangerous, which isn’t always true. Especially in the past few months. 

So, there’s been a conscious and active effort to remind herself when Naomi and Bayley hug her or playfully bump her, that it’s safe. That she’s safe.

Especially….especially with Roman.

Especially with how touch between them has seemed to also increase over the past couple weeks. Or maybe less increase in levels and more in frequency. She’ll find his hand on the small of her back, or him taking her hand in his, and sometimes, if they’re close enough, Solana also finds herself reaching for him, for his hand, her hand on his chest.

It’s all so innocent in presentation but something much deeper for her. A level of comfort she’s developed with him that she never had in any prior relationship. 

She likes it.

She likes him.

“Solana.” 

Jumping at being pulled from her inner dialogue, Solana remembers the initial question being posed. 

She clears her throat, finally answering, “umm….good. It’s—it’s good.”

“He’s not being an ass to you, is he?” She asks, almost protectively. “I mean outside of the natural ass that he always is.”

Immediately, Solana is shaking her head, almost feeling a duty to defend him. “No. No. He–he would never. He’s….always nice to me.”

Bayley nearly spits out her drink. “Nice?” She coughs a bit, also shaking her head. “Are we still talking about Roman here? Roman Reigns? That man has never been nice a day in his life.”

Naomi shrugs. “I mean, she has a point. I don’t think I’ve seen him be cruel to her.”

Cruel….Solana also could never find it in her to use that word to describe Roman’s disposition towards her. Maybe others, but never her.

Bayley sits on Naomi’s point, suddenly sharing to the table, “you know what, now that you mention it, when I went to go ask him if I could invite you tonight, he was ready to bite my head off for bothering him. But, the minute I said it had something to do with you, he was all ears. Like an instant switch.”

Solana is also all ears, slightly intrigued. “Really?” Doubt and insecurity creeps in as she weakly suggests, “he was probably like that with Samantha too.”

At that, Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud, Naomi nearly in tears.

“Now that is funny. Solana, Roman don’t give a fuck about that girl. Not outside of sex.”

Solana must look unconvinced, so Bayley points out, “think about it. She’s been around for years, and it’s not her he took down the aisle, so…..” She then adds, “arranged marriage or not.”

The girls bringing up their points takes Solana back to her run-in with Samantha in the bathroom and Nia’s jaw-dropping information. 

An idea appears, and Solana is instantly torn on whether to pursue or pop it. Something tells her it’s a bad idea, that she should take his information to the grave, but there’s also that side that feels like she can trust Bayley and Naomi to keep it between the three of them.

Sitting forward, Solana decides to take a risk. “Can I—can I tell you guys something?” Nervously, she stipulates, “but it has to stay between us.”

They look expectedly worried. “Solana, if it has something to do with your safety—”

“No, no that.” Solana almost feels confident enough to say that she’d go to Roman if that was the case. She trusts that she could talk to him if it was something like that.

“Of course, then.”

“Solana, you can tell us anything.”

And for some reason, she knows this to be true. It’s why she battles against her trepidation to open up. “It’s—ummm. I….I found out that when….when Roman was…..having sex with Samantha, he….” There’s a pause caused by the discomfort of such a discussion, but Solana manages to push through. “He said my name.”

Both Bayley and Naomi wear shocked expressions, the former of the two whispering harshly, “holy shit, what?”

Bayley then asks, “wait, how do you know?”

“Nia told me.” Solana has zero desire to wholly revisit that night in the bathroom with Samantha, so she only provides the important part. “She said that Samantha told her friend, I guess. T something?”

“Tiffy.” Bayley rolls her eyes. “Makes sense. That girl can’t hold water.”

“I don’t get it then. He obviously was imagining it was you and not Samantha, so why go fuck her and not you?”

Naomi’s question makes all the sense, but Solana doesn’t really know how to tackle it. This conversation is already difficult enough for her. 

But her face must give it away, Bayley seemingly putting two and two together.

“You two haven’t slept together…..have you?” Solana simply shakes her head, unable to verbally confirm and slightly mortified that it’s reached this level of detail. 

Solana is certain they must have a million thoughts floating around their head, starting with the how and why. That part…..that part she doesn’t know if she is ready to discuss.

An ironic thing considering she’s just started the chapter in her workbook on sharing her story with trusted people. 

The irony.

But instead of invasive questions that heighten her anxiety, Naomi places a comforting hand on her arm. 

“Look, I’ve known Roman my whole life, and the guy has been a dick the entire time. He would never hurt a woman, I know that, but he’s also never given a fuck about any of them either. So for him to be the way he is with you when you two haven’t even had sex……there’s something there, Solana.”

“I agree,” Bayley cosigns, saying what Solana has struggled to admit even to herself. “I think he really does like you. In his own Roman sort of way.”

Solana can’t deny the fact that it’s getting increasingly difficult to push away that possibility, even if she still can’t understand the why.

Just what has she done to deserve him liking her? 

Maybe it’s not like. Maybe he just tolerates her better than he does others for some reason. Whatever it is, she can’t negate the fact that it must mean something if Naomi, who’s known him her whole life, believes that something is there.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Solana just needs to get away. Just for a couple minutes. This conversation took a turn she wasn’t expecting, and she needs to settle her emotions. 

Bayley seems cautious. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” The rejection is paired with a kind smile. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

And before she can get any pushback, Solana makes her way through the dancing crowd and to the back restroom that she’s grateful to see is vacant. Closing and locking the bathroom door, she goes straight for the mirror.

Despite the unexpected amount of dancing and slight sweat, she still looks relatively the same. 

The same….

Same.

Even with the makeup and tight little dress, she’s still the same person. She’ll go home tonight, take off the makeup and remove the dress to find the same damaged, scarred girl who can never have something like what Jimmy and Naomi have.

Even if Roman does like her, it won’t last. 

She can’t please him. 

She could never make Roman happy, could never truly satisfy him, satisfy his needs.

She’s too broken for that.

It brings tears to her eyes.

Unable to withstand the sight of herself, Solana grabs a couple napkins to blow away her tears, tosses them out and heads out the bathroom. Instead of heading back to the table, Solana makes a beeline for the bar. 

She’s only had white wine, but white wine isn’t enough. She recognizes where her emotions are taking her, and it’s nowhere good. 

Solana refuses to ruin this night for Bayley and Naomi.

The bartender is a young girl, pretty, early to mid twenties. She asks in a friendly, deeply accented voice, “what can I get you?” 

Solana is naive to this, to the great array of alcoholic options that litter the counter before her, so she answers the best way she can. Thinking back to the few events she’d be forced to attend with her father and brother, the drinks she always heard people order before getting drunk.

“Vodka and Gin, p—please.”

________

Meanwhile, Bayley and Naomi sit at the table still partially stuck on this unexpected news. But also not entirely surprising. With how sittish Solana can be at times, they have a good, albeit depressing guess as to why sex hasn’t happened between them.

It does bring up a valid question though.

“Wasn’t the whole marriage for the purposes of giving Roman an heir? How is that—”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Naomi murmurs. “But, I think we both know it’s obvious Solana has some trauma. Touch is clearly hard for her.”

“I know.” Bayley frowns. “I guess I’m just surprised Roman of all people has been so….patient with her.”

“You and me too.” Naomi blows out a breath before again reiterating what she said to Solana. “He must really like her.”

“It’s just hard to tell with him. He’s so damn stoic, but….I think you’re right. I think she likes him too. She’s just…..scared.” Fear is also something Solana deeply struggles with, though Bayley and Naomi both can recognize the progress she’s making towards overcoming those fears.

With a gasp, Naomi grabs her phone, directing Bayley. “Get your phone.” 

Bay is confused but follows suit just as Naomi says, “I know who may know.” 

Less than a minute later, Bayley’s phone dings with a text notification from a new group she’s in that includes herself, Naomi, Jimmy, and Jey.

Naomi: Sooooo, Bay and I were just talking, and between the four of us, how do you think Roman feels about Solana?

Bayley: And please be honest.

Bayley quickly ensures. “We’re not going to tell them what Solana said, right?”

“Hell no. We could never betray her trust like that.” Bayley is relieved but also not surprised. 

Naomi values loyalty just as much as she does. 

Jey: Man, I think he really like ole’ girl. Bruh got her a dog, seems to drop whatever he doing when she needs something, and I don’t think I ever heard him say nothing bad about her.

Jimmy: He was definitely annoyed at first when Soso had her lil breakdown at the Warehouse, but that didn’t last long at all. 

Bayley: Plus Roman is always annoyed with something or someone.

Naomi: Except her 👀

Jey: Why ya’ll ask?

Naomi: We think Solana really likes him too but is scared to push on it because of her past and just don’t want to encourage her to give it a chance if he’s just gonna hurt her. Ya’ll know how Roman is.

Bayley: A certified ASSHOLE. And a hoe. 

Bayley: But, it seems like that’s not the case with her.

Jimmy: I would say he definitely likes her too. 

Jey: I mean they are married so….

Naomi: It was arranged. That doesn’t count. 

Bayley: Do we know if he’s still fucking around? Primarily with Samantha since she’s been his go-to the past couple years?

Jimmy: I don’t think so. Matter of fact, I guess she said some smart shit to Soso in the bathroom on NoC and Big Dog wasn’t having it.

Jey: He’s apparently planning to pay her a lil visit….with Nia.

Naomi: Oh my god, is he finally gonna let Nia kill her?

Jimmy: Naw, just fuck her up real good, I think.

Naomi: Damn.

Bayley: That’s wild for him to cut her off like that after all this time. Def sounds like he likes Solana to me too…..

Jey: Ya’ll really think he about to admit that shit though?

Naomi: No more than she is. He’s stubborn, and she’s so insecure.

Jimmy: Ya’ll thinking what I’m thinking? 👀

*Jimmy changed the group chat name to Operation RoSo*

Naomi: Bae, what is this damn title?

Jimmy: It’s our latest covert operation. We gotta get Roman and Soso to admit they like each other!

Jey: And just how the hell is we supposed to do that? Like Bay said, Uce is an ass sometimes.

Bayley: All the time unless you’re Solana….

Naomi: I mean, not to be vain, but if you look like Roman, you can kinda get away with being an ass. To some extent.

Bayley: You’re not wrong. He is gorgeous. 😮‍💨

Jimmy: He alright, I guess. His ears kinda big.

Naomi: Bae, I love you, but let’s not lie. Your cousin is an asshole, yes, but he’s also fine as hell.

Bayley: That’s not the only thing said to be big…..

Naomi: Girl….

Bayley: They can’t all be lying.

Jey: ANYWAYS!

Jey: What if they’re coming together at they own pace and we should just leave shit alone? 

Jimmy: 😐

Jimmy: That’s about the dumbest fucking thing I done heard all day. What next you gon say, huh? That they just magically gon fall in love on their own too? No! They clearly need our help!

Naomi: Maybe less help and more a shove in the right direction?

Bayley: A gentle push!

Naomi: Yes!

Jey: All I know is if shit backfires, I’m not taking the heat for none of ya’ll asses. Ya’ll gon have to deal with Big Dog.

Jimmy: Then we’ll just put Solana in front of us. He can’t hurt us then!

Jimmy: See…..I’m smart with this shit. That’s why Imma be the brains of this operation.

________

“What do you mean she’s drunk?”

Roman’s night suddenly went from uneventful and quiet, his preference, to unexpected and infuriating, all with a walk from upstairs to downstairs where he finds Solana awkwardly standing in the living room. Bayley and Naomi wait at the bottom of the steps with nervous expressions.

Good.

They should be scared shitless, because one glance at Solana, the gloss over her eyes, and he can tell she’s all but wasted. 

“You were supposed to be watching her.” Roman is fucking irritated. He knew it was a bad idea to leave these two in charge of Solana.

Bayley, however, seems unbothered by his anger. “She’s not a child, Roman. Were we supposed to stop her from drinking too? We had no idea she asked for something stronger.”

It’s an excuse, and Roman doesn’t do excuses. “What happened?”

Naomi answers this time around. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” One. They’re lying, and Roman hates liars. Two. They’re lying, and Roman has literally killed people for less. Three. They’re lying, and he wants to know why. “You’ve both got less than a minute to give me the truth—”

“Look, we talked about some things, and we promised to keep it between the three of us, so I’m not telling you what exactly it was, but I can tell you she’s not in danger.” Bayley is smart. She must know that he’d literally torture the information out of her if it had anything to do with Solana’s safety. 

“It was just…some stuff about her past. I think it may have been too much, and she decided to get drunk to not think about it.” Naomi’s suggestion makes sense and pans out, but Roman can’t stop thinking about just what she shared with them. 

Was it the rape? But why? He remembers her terror in the locker room that day, the fear and pain in her eyes and voice as she pleaded with him to not make her talk about it. It doesn’t make sense why she would suddenly share it.

Even with how close she seems to them.

“Just leave.”

Roman will deal with them later. Right now, his priority is getting Solana settled.

They seem to know better than to push his patience, asking that he at least keep them updated on how she’s doing in the morning.

He neither agrees or disagrees. It’ll heavily depend on how fucked up Solana is. 

Once they’re gone, Roman walks into the living room to find her laid on the sofa, eyes glazed over from her drunkenness but that same beautiful smile on her just as beautiful face.

“Solana.” She’s so gone that it makes him wonder even more again just how upset she must have been. “I need to get you to bed.”

He needs sleep too, feeling the length and weight of the day starting to take a toll.

She’s protesting almost right away. “I’m not t–tired.”

“Maybe not, but you will be tomorrow.” Roman knows she’s in for one hell of a hangover.

“I don’t—I don’t want to sleep.” She’s almost pouting, brows caved together as she stumbles through more words. Solana suddenly stands up, and he naturally moves closer to her, noticing the almost sway she does onto the floor. “I just—have bad dreams and—and you’re just—just gonna leave once I sleep anyw—way.”

“What do you mean by that?” He asks. Getting answers from a drunk person usually isn’t the best or smartest thing in the world, but something tells Roman that Solana is the type of drunk person who ends up spilling secrets. And he’s certain there’s a lot she’s probably still keeping in.

She then issues an unexpected accusation. “You—you’re—you’re gonna go be with Samantha—that’s who you want.”

Roman finds her question slightly ironic considering he’s been letting Samantha think she got away with whatever disrespectful shit she said to Solana on the Night of Champions. He’s letting her think she’s safe and waiting for the right moment to set her ass straight, Nia tagging along to deliver the physical message he can’t.

“Af–after all.” Solana continues, surprising him with her openness that’s most definitely fueled by her inebriation. “Why—why would you want me?” She points to herself, voice taking on a softer, vulnerable tone. “Why—why would anyone want me?”

He’s silent for a good minute, sitting on such a heavy question. “Is that really what you think?” It’s asked in a low voice, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s more him thinking aloud or if he genuinely wants to know if that is how she really views herself. 

She shakes her head, nodding in a way that further signifies how drunk she is. “It’s like you said, I’m mentally u–unstable.”

For a second, Roman’s confused, but he quickly thinks back to their wedding night, to his hurtful words to her. Words he’d give anything to take back now. 

With an almost frown, he acknowledges his fault. “I was wrong to say that to you, Solana. You are not that.” Truthfully, with all she’s been through, even if she was, he couldn’t fault her.

With a family like hers, she never had a fucking chance.

Solana seems almost confused by his apology, taking him back with the next thing that leaves her mouth. “Is it—is it true you—you said my name when you were with S—samantha?”

He definitely wasn’t expecting that, has no idea how she even knows that. Is that what Samantha told her in the bathroom? Why would she? It does nothing to make her look good. Regardless, drunk or not, Roman sticks with his word that he won’t lie to her.

“Yes.”

Even drunk, he can tell how shocked she is by his admission. Shaking her head, she says either to herself or him—he can’t really tell. “I—I don’t get it.” Before he can say anything else, she starts on this train of self-hatred. “She’s pretty and—and—skinny and—she’s not—broken like me.”

That does something to him, Roman moving closer to bring one hand to the small of her back and the other to her face. “You’re not broken, Solana.”

“Yes–yes, I am. You don’t—you don’t know what—what happened to me.” Her bottom lip trembles as she shakes her head, hands on his chest. “I can’t—I can’t do what—what she does—can’t—give you t–that.”

He shifts his hand to the back of her head, forcing her blurry gaze to stay on him. “Baby….” It tears him the fuck up hearing her acknowledge the lingering trauma he’s certain she’ll always carry to some extent, but even more to hear how lowly she really thinks of herself. “I don’t—”

“I can’t—I can’t because—” Her voice cracks, her eyes focused everywhere but him as she almost comes to this heartbreaking realization that her drunkenness briefly helped her escape these thoughts that have now returned. “—b–because they r–raped me, and now I don’t—I don’t know how—how to be with anyone.” She gasps and sniffles, shaking her head. “I should—should have f–fought h-harder—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that, you hear me?” Roman’s voice somehow contains all the conviction yet gentleness he can muster. Hearing her even think that makes him feel something he can’t fully describe. It’s heavy as fuck though. “You were a child, Solana. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were a kid.” He has to say it again, because that’s the hardest part in all of this, knowing how young she was. “You should have been protected, and you weren’t, and I’m going to make sure every son of a bitch involved in what happened to you pays for that shit. I promise you that. The same way that I promise with my life, I’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again.”

She’s clearly taken back by his words, by his vow. “I don’t—I don’t—understand w–why? Why—why would you do that?”

Roman isn’t sure he has an answer for that specifically, but he does have something else he can provide her, a small part of him knowing, hoping maybe, there’s very little from tonight she remembers come tomorrow morning. 

“Because someone needs to protect you.” Roman swallows, adding before he even realizes what he’s saying. “Because I don’t want Samantha.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek, intentionally wiping her tears. “I want you.”

And suddenly, it’s so much easier to say it aloud, to voice to her what he still doesn’t entirely understand, why he feels drawn to her in ways he doesn’t understand. There’s a connection almost, a connection of mutual loss that’s formed some sort of bridge Roman is unsure just when he started crossing 

She looks more stunned at his admission than anything else he’s ever said to her. Still, she seems to try to discredit him. “But—but she—”

“She’s not you.” His voice unintentionally softens. “No one’s like you.”

Selfishly, he hopes she doesn’t remember much or any of this conversation, less painful for her, more time for him to figure out what it is about this woman that he feels so deeply drawn to.

Again, she tries to downplay her worth. “I can’t—I can’t—give you what you need.”

And somehow he knows exactly what she means. What she’s referring to.

“I don’t need that from you.” Truth be told, he doesn’t want to need anything from her. Needing anything in general has never been his thing. He just knows that, for some reason, he wants her around.

He likes having her around him. 

She’s blinking again and places her hand against her head, sharing, “my h–head hurts.” It’s not an intentional deflection, he’s certain, but it’s appreciated.

This is a much deeper conversation than he anticipated having tonight.

“You need to get to bed. The sooner you can start sleeping this off, the better.” He eyes her skeptically, asking, “can you walk?”

He should have already known the answer, because the minute she tries to pull away from him to walk, she sways almost immediately, Roman going right back to holding her. “Come here.” He expects her to tense up as he moves to lift her up bridal style, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look confused, clearly overwhelmed with all of her emotions. 

Roman doesn’t say anything as he carries her up the stairs and doesn’t think twice about taking her to his room instead of hers. 

He needs to monitor her tonight, and that’s easier done with her in his room.

She looks around still confused but doesn’t say anything as Roman lowers her down on the edge of his bed. Naturally, he’s on one knee before her.

“I’m gonna take these off.” He refers to her heels which could largely be a contributing factor for her to inability to walk. She nods, and he quickly unstraps and tosses the heels to the side. “Do you want to change?”

She nods and then adds, “I don’t have—my clothes….”

Roman is at his dresser, pulling out a shirt that he reaches to her. “You can wear this for tonight.”

She accepts it from him, turning to walk to the bathroom, Roman relieved to see the removal of her heels helps her to at least make it without falling.

While she’s changing, he heads back downstairs to get Dulce.

He knows she’s used to sleeping with Solana and will probably throw a fit or spend the night crying if that doesn’t happen, so a small sacrifice is made as he also brings up Dulce’s bed from the living room and places it on the side of his bed.

One night of her sleeping in his room won’t kill him.

It’s then that Solana walks out the bathroom, changed out of her dress and her face free from the makeup. 

“I washed my face….hope that was o–okay.”

“It’s fine, Solana.” Roman is half expecting to have to instruct her to lay down, but she again stays with the theme of surprises tonight and walks over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in. 

He’s again ready to explain that he’ll be in the guest room across the hall but will be available if she needs anything. He’ll still be checking in on her occasionally, regardless.

But, before he can explain as such, she asks in the softest, most vulnerable voice, “will you lay with me?”

It’s an extremely unexpected question with an easy answer.

Roman’s answer is to move into the bed with her, half expecting her to freak out in one way or another. This close proximity is so unlike her, a complete contrast to what she’s usually comfortable with.

However, what he doesn’t expect is the way Solana moves her body close against his, pressing herself into his side, arm over his stomach and head on his chest.

In a switching of roles, Roman is the one to initially tense. This is more physical contact than they’ve ever had, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that if not for the alcohol in her system, she’d have a fucking meltdown touching him this much.

But in her drunken, highly intoxicated state, that’s not an issue. She wants to be close to him, wants to be pressed up against him. 

She’s looking for comfort.

And truthfully, he wants it too. Roman likes the feel of her next to him, actually uses his other arm to tug her closer, noticing how she adjusts her head on his chest.

Her hand is planted against his chest, and he starts to tell her to rest, to encourage her to sleep this off. But, she once again beats him to it, asking yet another question. 

“Why—why are you doing this?”

To be fair, Roman only answers her truthfully because he’s betting on her being so close to the edge of sleep that the chances of her remembering this rare shred of vulnerability are slim to none.

“Because—because I know what it’s like to not have anyone.” There’s a sense of hesitation and discomfort as he verbalizes what he’s never once openly discussed with anyone. “Because I didn’t just lose my mom when I was ten. I lost my entire family. My parents. My aunt. My uncle. And all of my siblings. I—I was the only one who made it out alive that night, and I spent years not knowing why, why I was left alone.”

Roman doesn’t want sympathy, doesn’t want people feeling fucking sorry for him. He never has. But the way Solana lifts her head to look at him is a look of something else, something that likens understanding and compassion.

The latter of which is almost an unfamiliar concept. 

“I didn’t—I’m sorry.” She lays her head back against his chest, moving even closer. She then murmurs into him, almost reassuringly, “you don’t—you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Roman doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn’t.

He says nothing.

________

Waking up in Roman’s bed wearing only his shirt is the last thing Solana expects along with the fact that the minute her eyes open, she’s hit with instant throbbing of her head.

She winces, confused about so many things as she forces herself to sit up, mind immediately wandering to a single question.

Where is Roman?

Her question is easily answered when she spots the notebook on his nightstand. She reaches for it, squinted eyes reading over his words.

Solana,

I’m sorry I had to leave. I have a meeting with the Elders I, unfortunately, can’t miss. I’ll be back right after.

If not for that, I would have stayed with you.

You most likely won’t remember last night, but you got drunk. Very. You’re gonna wake up with a nasty hangover. Take the Aspirin. It’ll help. 

I gave Dulce her breakfast and took her outside. She should be fine. 

I also let your job know you’re not coming in today.

Rest.

Roman

There’s so much to process in such a straightforward letter. What did he mean by stay with her? Did—did they sleep in the same bed? 

For some reason, that’s not as anxiety inducing as she imagined it would be. She doesn’t know the why or how, but it doesn't bring that heavy weight on her chest.

The drunk part triggers brief memories of the night prior. Bayley and Naomi. The celebration. Dancing. Fun. Happiness.

A switch.

At some point in the night, her mood shifted into something else. Solana remembers asking for a drink, but she doesn’t remember much after that. Glimpses. An almost sympathetic look from Roman. His arms around her. Him holding her.

It makes for a confusing story she doesn’t really have the wherewithal to deal with. She instead reaches over and swallows the Aspirin. 

And she goes right back to sleep.

________

Roman finds himself completely bypassing his office, clearing his schedule, and moving his phone’s status to Do Not Disturb.

He’s not in the mood to deal with any of that shit today. At least not for a couple more hours. He needs to make sure Solana is situated first. 

Thinking about her resurfaces his earlier level of anger at how the meeting with the Elders ended.

“What of the girl?”

This was the part of the hour meeting that caught his attention the most. Everything else was trivial and, in his opinion, a waste of time. But, it’s when Elder Aleki brings up Solana that Roman’s focus is recentered.

“What about her?”

He’s not stupid. Far from it. Roman knows exactly where this is headed. It was partially expected. What he didn’t expect was the anger that’s already brewing at just how Solana was referred to as ‘the girl.’

Aleki is bold with his questioning, jumping straight to the point. “Is she still not pregnant yet? It’s been almost four months.”

Roman’s jaw clenches, and he finds himself squeezing the armrest of his chair as he does his best to keep his voice somewhat subdued. “I’m aware of how long it’s been.”

Another elder, Sione, decides to join in on this conversation that Roman is about to shut down in less than a minute. “Perhaps she should have another medical evaluation. By one of our doctors—”

“The hell she will.”

Rikishi shoots Roman a warning look, quietly, muttering an equally pleading, “language, Uce.”

Roman straight up ignores him. Rikishi still adheres to those outdated traditions that just because someone has more years on this earth than you that they automatically deserve respect. Fuck that. Roman gives respect when it’s earned, and Aleki and Sione have been on his shit list for years.

He’ll never forgive them for their behavior after the death of his family, their questioning of Roman’s birthright to the throne.

Aleki releases a heavy sigh, and Roman has to restrain himself from not bashing the old man’s head into the table. “All we’re saying is if she is incapable of producing a child to continue the Bloodline, then we have no use for her and should seek to find you a better—”

That’s when Roman has enough. To suggest Solana be examined again. which would no doubt be triggering as fuck for her, is one thing. But, it’s an entirely different thing for them to have the unmitigated gall to suggest he get rid of her.

Over his dead fucking body.

Roman shoots up from the chair. “My wife isn’t going anywhere nor is anyone at this fucking table going to make her do shit.”

Rikishi shoots more than just his subtle warning this time around. “Roman, please—”

Roman’s not trying to hear that shit from him, though. He’s not trying to hear shit from anyone. 

“Our marriage is nobody’s fucking business but our own. That includes when she gets pregnant. We’ll share it when we want to.”

Truthfully speaking, this isn’t something Roman has thought much about, an intentional thing. The fact that the marriage was originally and solely arranged so that she could give him an heir is irrelevant to him right now, regardless of what they think.

That’s not a priority. 

“You may be the Elders, but I sit at the head of the table.” The Bloodline has always been successful and profitable, but it’s no doubt exceeded any and all records and expectations since Roman became the head. That’s an indisputable fact. “Don’t fucking forget who made this table what it is today.”

The ending of the meeting is still playing in the back of his head like a bad song on repeat. If not for his semi level of respect and acknowledgement of their standing as Elders, he would have put a bullet in their heads the minute that disrespectful shit started leaving their mouths.

In no fucking universe is anyone taking Solana from him. He doesn’t give a flying fuck whatever the original reason was for their marriage. She’s his now, and nothing is changing that. 

Roman makes active efforts to calm himself before walking back into the house. After last night, the last thing she needs is to be unintentionally triggered. 

He finds her on the sofa, writing in her journal, Dulce right beside her sleeping peacefully without a care in the fucking world. Roman halfway expected her to be out back on the patio, a seemingly favorite spot of hers.

But the sunlight would no doubt exacerbate the remnants of her hangover he’s certain she’s still battling, so it makes sense she’s indoors. It’s when she looks up, noticing his presence that Roman also realizes she’s still only wearing his shirt. 

For some strange reason, he likes that. Likes seeing her in his clothes.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Roman sits on the sofa opposite from her. He takes her in, watching her set her journal to the side and as he notices her hair is pulled up. “How you feeling?”

She shrugs, making a face that suggests some level of discomfort. “My head still kinda hurts, but I guess—that’s to be expected.” He starts to ask her if she’s drunk enough water, recognizing the importance of staying hydrated a night after heavy drinking, but she’s suddenly pleading with him almost. “Please don’t be upset with Bayley and Naomi. It’s not their fault.”

To be fair, he hadn’t thought about them until now. “They were supposed to watch you.”

“They did. I—I got back fine.” She seems almost worried for them, for their safety. He would never actually kill either woman. He’ll just probably never trust them to take Solana out again in life. But no murder would actually happen. Still, it’s the part where Solana says she got back fine that irks him. He does his best to mask that irritation though. 

“You weren’t fine last night, Solana.” She was far from it, more emotional than he’s seen her in some time, if ever. 

Her shoulders drop, almost in shame. “I don’t—I don’t remember much of it.”

He’s thankful for that. For the both of them. “You were upset.” It’s not a lie nor is it specific. It’s just the truth. 

She then asks with almost hesitant curiosity. “W–what did I say?”

Roman shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He doesn’t like being dismissive towards her, doesn’t like being dishonest, something he swore he wouldn’t do. But, she was an emotional wreck last night, and the last thing he wants is for her to go through all of those emotions yet again.

He doesn’t like seeing her upset.

But then she looks at him, studying him almost, a sad, almost tearful chuckle leaving her mouth. He watches as she brings her legs up to her chest and rests her chin against her knees. She asks, volume barely over a whisper, “I told you last night, didn’t I?” Roman realizes it’s less a question and more a heavy realization. “That—that I was raped. Didn’t I?”

It’s a bit of a lose–lose situation. Either he tells her no and risks her feeling bad for sharing something she didn’t have to or he confirms what she already knows and still feels not great.

They’re both shitty options, but he ultimately goes the route of honesty. “Yes.”

“It’s weird. I—” She looks away, eyes shutting for a minute before she unexpectedly explains, “I’ve been—I’ve been working out of this book for people who were…assaulted like me, and I’m–at the part where its recommended I tell at least one person because—because it’s not healthy to keep it to myself.” 

Roman knows exactly what book she’s talking about. It was the key that led to him figuring out just what happened to her. That still fucks with him. Still makes him fill with silent rage at her piece of shit family letting that happen to her. 

“You’re now the first person I’ve ever told.” Roman hates that even more.. Hates that someone like him is who she ended up breaking her silence with. He wishes it was either Bayley or Naomi. They’re much better at this sort of thing. The feelings thing. “I don’t—I don’t like talking about it.”

“You don’t have to.” He isn’t sure he’d be able to control his anger hearing details, hearing anything about it to be honest, not coming from her. His rage would be intractable. 

She nods, almost appreciatively. “That's why sex is—it’s hard for me.” He fully understands that, and a small part of him hates how he tried to initiate that with her on their wedding night. He figured her nerves were because of her naturally anxious personality. Never once did it cross his mind that it was because of something much darker. “And it’s not—it’s not like I don’t think about it sometimes, about being close to someone like that, I do.” This piece does surprise him, but he works hard not to think too much about it right now. He wants to be in this moment with her. “ I—I have. But, every time I try, I just—I get flashbacks, and I can’t.” She ends on an almost whisper, Roman’s stomach tightening as she quickly wipes at a tear. 

He doesn’t like seeing her cry. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Solana.” Not him or anyone else, for that matter. 

She doesn’t say anything for a good minute before asking, “what happens now?”

That’s a great fucking question, and he almost has the same towards a lot of things. He’s curious though what she’s specifically referring to. “What do you mean?”

Solana seems almost frightened as she asks, “are you—are you gonna send me back to my father?” 

Yeah, he could have never in a million years guessed that. “Why would you ever think I would do that?”

And he suddenly hates asking, hates seeing the way the emotion builds back up. “I’m not—not a virgin, and—” Her eyes close, her grip around her legs tightening. “You….you only married me because—”

“I don’t care about that.” This is his second time today having to face some level of this discussion, but this round is significantly gentler. Roman does his best to illustrate the conviction in his voice while also being mindful of her emotions. “What do you want, Solana?”

He has no idea what she’s going to say, but he does know for a fact he would never send her back to that hellhole. It would be like sending her to her own death. 

She seems to really think about his question, think about something he’s certain she’s never had a lot of. 

Options. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, she answers. “I want to stay here.” Roman’s unsure why he feels a small sense of relief at her answer, like anything other than that would have made him uncomfortable or upset. Solana wets her lips, continuing, “I like—I like living here.” And in an even smaller voice, she adds, “I like being with you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she. Roman is certain it’s because they’re both trying to process and register what this may mean, what this new piece of information means for them moving forward. 

Roman sits forward and motions with his index and middle finger. “Come here.”

He sees it instantly. The initial hesitation, the brief flash of fear, but it’s gone before he can offer reassurance. Solana lowers her legs and walks over to him, Dulce remaining sleeping and unmoving. Not once does Roman remove his gaze from her as he takes her hand, giving a gentle tug to guide her down on the sofa next to him. He slides his arm behind her, holding her body against him, his tattooed forearm across her stomach.

Roman watches the way her eyes close, recognizes that she’s trying to manage her emotions. He sees the little nod she gives herself, as if assuring herself that she’s safe. And he swears he sees her mouth as such.

Mouth the word ‘safe.’

Solana moves her hands to his forearm, as if holding onto him for some sense of comfort. 

He does his best to reassure her. “Relax…”And it seems to do something to help her, offering such a simple yet strong form of solace. “I’d never send you back there. Ever.” And that’s a fucking promise. “You’ll stay here. With me.”

“I’m—” Her voice is less emotional than before. It’s still there, but he can tell it's waning with each second that passes, her comfort level growing. “I’m supposed to give you an heir. What if—what if people start—”

“I’ll take care of it.” And he will. He already started with the Elders earlier today, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

She angles her head up to look at him. “But—” 

Roman brings his hand to her face, gently palming her cheek. “I’ll take care of it.” He moves his thumb over the apple of her cheek and part of her scar. “Alright?”

Solana nods with her acknowledgement but says nothing else as she lays back against him. He notices the absence of tension and discomfort. She’s fully relaxed against him, and Roman acts more out of instinct than anything as he presses lips against her temple for a brief kiss, still mindful of her comfort level. “I’ve got you…”

Everything happening in the past few minutes has been both unexpected and confusing, but there’s nothing confusing about the way Solana suddenly turns her body into him, laying her head on his chest. He watches her eyes close, signifying another layer of fear being peeled back. 

He sits there for who knows how long with her, holding her, noticing the slight rise and fall of her body against his, a sign that she’s fallen asleep. He lets her sleep, lets her rest, lets her stay close to him, under him, with him.

Roman thinks back on his question to her about what she wanted. He’s not sure what he would have said if she said she wanted to leave, because the truth of the matter is that Roman’s starting to think that he couldn’t let her go.

That he can’t.

Even if she wanted to leave. 

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

so I saw your requests are open. It seems that Astarion believes- at least in the beginning- that his purpose is to give pleasure. He does it to survive, he does it to gain Tavs trust and affection... what if Tav takes it upon herself to pleasure him. I HC Astarion is more dominant as he regains his autonomy, after centuries of having no say or control hiw would he react to Tav gently kissing him, asking him to let her make him feel good for a change. He's spent all this time giving, he deserves to receive for once. Expecting nothing in return.

Yaaas, let's go. I think I may have made this a lil fluffier than what you had in mind but hopefully it works! Playful/Sweet Tav! This is set before he admits his feelings but still in act 2 so he's like close!

TW: They bang and it's graphic under the cut with some mentions of his backstory, which is fucked up. But yeah, sexing is occurring. 18+ That's it. Pretty sweet outside of his backstory.

~

Astarion was aware the sex could be enjoyable, despite the centuries of the act being used against him. There had been glimmers of genuine pleasure through it all, mostly poisoned by the knowledge of what happened to all of his conquests when the job was finished after, but still. They were there.

Enough for Astarion to be somewhat prepared for the loveliness of being with you. When he had made the choice to seduce you, he had done it assuming that sex would be mediocre at best, and unpleasant at worst.

But no. Instead it just felt... wonderful. A word that Astarion was not used to associating with the deed. Though he supposed it made sense. He did like you after all, even outside of the protection he could get out of you. You were intelligent enough to make for good conversation; you were fun, mischievous even. Enough to match up with his own bitchy little quips. But you were also... sweet. Caring even, though it seemed you had a habit of giving that care to the least deserving mortals in the realm.

Not that that was a bad thing. He had been more than ready to use that kind nature against. It was so easy to worm his way into your heart. And the sex was good? Astarion's luck was almost certainly on the edge of running out, but he'd happily take advantage of the streak while he could.

You were just... so submissive. So ready for him to take the lead. Astarion had developed many personas in bed over the centuries, cultivating them for whatever situation he may need. But they were always tools, it had little or nothing to do with what he wanted. Just what he could use to lure them back to their deaths.

In all honesty, he had tried to do the exact same with you, and he would have too if he hadn't lost control on that first night. But then you had to bare your neck to him, the siren song of your blood screaming at him to bite. And then he just... lost control.

Was it the best sex of Astarion's life? Yes. Was he about to tell you that? No.

And it kept being good. Even on the nights he didn't drink from you, he liked it. Borderline loved it, if he was emotionally capable of associating that word with you. And he wanted to enjoy it while he could. He knew deep down that this was temporary, for more reasons than one. Soon enough he simply wouldn't need you anymore. After you defeated the demon for Raphael, Astarion would have some idea of Cazador's plans, and maybe enough to figure out a way to secure his freedom for good. And unless you planned on killing the man yourself, he... wouldn't have any reason to keep the facade going. Not to mention the obvious fact that you could wake up from your lust-induced stupor and break things off at any moment. Astarion wasn't looking forward to either outcome. But how else would this end? It's not like the two of you could set off into the sunset together, like some inane fairytale.

... right?

Astarion wasn't quite sure anymore. And he certainly wasn't going to figure it out any time soon. It was easier just to push the whole thing out of his mind. Especially now, when the two of you finally had a private room at the Last Light Inn, thank the gods. One more night of calm before they rushed into a temple full of horrors.

It was hard to hide his excitement as he pushed you onto the bed, his fangs already sharpening in anticipation. He wanted you to be marked head to toe by the end of the night, bites, bruises, anything and everything to remind you that you were his.

At least for tonight.

"Wait, wait!" You laughed as Astarion crawled over you, wasting no time in trying to claw your clothes off.

But the ask was enough to make him pause, a flash of worry running through his when he asked, "What's wrong? Did I- are you okay?"

You shook your head at him with a smile, your legs suddenly wrapping tightly around his waist "Nothing sweetheart, I'm fine. But..."

The next thing Astarion knew you were always flipping him over, so fast that he couldn't help but be impressed. He always underestimated just how strong you were. You grinned down at him as you sat atop his thighs, your hands rubbing over his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, "But I think it's my turn to spoil you for a change."

Astarion furrowed his brow, sincerely confused for a moment. And maybe even a little self-conscious, "Why? I mean-do you not like how-"

"You're very good darling," You gently interrupted with a laugh, your hands already working to pull his shirt over his head, laughed as you sat atop his thighs, doing the work to unbutton his shirt, "Best I've ever had, sincerely. But don't you think that things have been a bit one-sided?"

He hadn't, not for a moment, but he sure as hells wasn't going to complain. Not when he had a gorgeous woman on top of him, one who was already doing the work of taking his cock out.

"Let me take care of you for once," You murmured as you started to stroke his length, pre-come already dribbling at the tip, "Anything you want is yours tonight. Just say the word."

Astarion blinked up at you, momentarily at a loss before regaining his usual confidence. Or at least some of it, "Taking your clothes off would be a fantastic start."

You laughed as you did just that, light and airy while you tore your shirt over your head. Astarion didn't waste any time in surging forward, latching his mouth around your nipple with a groan.

He wrapped his arms around your bare back, pulling you closer as you moaned.

"I'm supposed to be pleasing you," You panted as you slipped your skirt down your thighs, tossing it to the side as he suckled on your chest, "Remember?"

"Pleasing you pleases me," Astarion popped off with a chuckle, looking up at you with dark eyes, "Lovely thing that you are."

You softly smiled down at him before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. And then you were squirming away from him. Ducking out of his arms and lap.

He just hadn't expected you to sink to your knees in front of the bed. You rubbed at his thighs, so close to him that he could feel the heat of your breath against his length.

"Can I?" You asked coyly, the question sweet enough to make him shiver. He would never get tired of that, you always asking for permission for the smallest little things.

Astarion sat up with a smile and a nod, tangling his fingers in your hair as he said, "Of course my sweet, go right ahead."

And off you went. You wrapped your lips around the head, suckling on it like the little minx you were. You looked beautiful down there, your hair in disarray as you swallowed around his cock; more than happy to let him take the lead and force your head to take him fully down your throat.

You were drooling around him, staring up at him with your big wet eyes as you worked your tongue around him. It felt wonderful, amazing even. But it wasn't enough. As lovely as your throat was, it was only his second favorite place to store his cock.

"Get up here my love," Astarion ordered, his voice rough and his mind too preoccupied to notice his own slip. He tightened the hand in your hair, easing you off of his cock with a groan, "As wonderful as your mouth is, I want to be inside you."

You grinned up at him before gracefully standing, your breasts on full display, pretty enough to make Astarion's mouth water. You pushed him back first onto the bed before crawling over him again, the heat of your wet cunt so close to his sensitive cock. You gripped the base of it before rubbing the head over your folds, whimpering as you used him to circle your own clit.

It felt amazing, and it looked even better. But Astarion was nearly out of patience. He gripped your hips, his nails just on the edge of piercing your skin as he growled at you, "Are you trying to kill me darling?"

"Just the opposite," You breathily laughed as you finally started to sink down onto his cock, brokenly moaning all the while, "J-Just want to make you feel good."

You were so wet, tight and perfect around him. And the noises you were making, all of your little whimpers and whines. They would be haunting his dreams for years to come. But it still wasn't enough. Despite how lovely it was to have you bouncing in his lap, he couldn't help but thrust up inside of you, matching your movements in tandem.

You gasped as he really started to fuck into you, hard and deep enough to bring tears to your eyes. You were clutching at his chest, hard enough to make him bleed. Not that he cared. How could he when he had you like this? Desperate and needy as you pussy leaked slick onto him, so soaked that Astarion knew that you had to be close.

It had been a long instilled habit of Astarion to be sure his partner always reached their peak first. It was nearly ingrained in his DNA at this point, a pattern that he had no intention of breaking anytime soon.

But then you were leaning in to kiss him, something that shouldn't have caught him off guard, yet it did.

The press of your lips to his felt so soft, so sweet, nothing like the way he was savagely fucking into you. It was gentle, loving even. And before Astarion knew it he was coming, his end abrupt and explosive. It felt like fireworks bursting behind his eyes; he barely even had the wherewithal to move his hand to rub at your clit. But he managed, and soon enough you were crying out above him, your pussy clenching hard around his still leaking cock.

You were still kissing him in that same tender way, softly licking into his mouth as warmth overtook him. He felt... good. Too good even. Enough so where he barely knew what to do with himself.

You pulled away first, but you didn't go far. Thank the gods, Astarion wasn't... he didn't know if he could handle being apart from you at the moment. You rested your forehead against his, smiling down at him with a smitten look, one that made his heart clench.

"Did you like that?" You asked softly, wincing slightly as you pulled off of his cock, "Because I sure did."

I love you.

The thought came sudden and unbidden, screaming into the front of his mind without his consent. He didn't-he wasn't-why had that come into his head at all?

Astarion tried to stomp the wayward thought down as he gave you a strained smile.

"I loved it," He answered sincerely, the truth of his feelings far too close to the truth of his idiotic heart, "I-thank you darling. You really are amazing, aren't you?"

"Such a charmer," You sighed as you laid down next to him, reaching out to tangle your fingers together, "I really never stood a chance against you, did I?"

That was almost enough to make Astarion break out in hysterical laughter.

But instead he squeezed your hand, his eyes turned to the ceiling while a conflicted smile graced his face, "No. You never did."

He could only hope that continued to be true.

[starlightazriel]

necessities 2

series desc: modern day (fem)reader x classic prythian azriel au, series of short chapters, fluffy, smutty, cute, probably some angst and or drama cus it's me

warnings: 18+, again guys this is silly hehe, reader is a lil airheaded, prescription drugs mentioned, swearing, reader is an influencer HAHA, i'm high, az has a dirty mind freaky boii,

wc: 1.7k

other parts will be found on my masterlist under azriel

two

"You ready?" Azriel quirks a brow, looking down at you, you swallow hard, it didn't matter how big his arms were, basically the size of your fucking leg, how strong his body felt against yours. You were shaking with fear, shaking. The thought of flying through the air, not in first class with your fuzzy pink sleeping mask, a valium, and your security squishmallow- was not sitting right with you. Not at all.

"No," you squeak, your chest feeling tight. Heights- were one thing that you never did. Your friends hadn't even been able to pay you to get on Kingda Ka at Six Flags last year. "I don't even do rollercoasters- This-" you gulped, unable to even find the words.

"Roller what?" Azriel asks, his brows drawing together again, talking to you was definitely exhausting. He only seemed to understand about half of what you said. He would have to start writing these things down.

"Where I'm from people pay to get strapped into a death machine and basically dropped from the sky, I personally think it's like adrenaline junky behavior," you say, peering up at him, he raised his eyebrows as he looked back down at you, his eyes hazy with contemplation.

"Interesting," Azriel replies, this seemed to be the easiest thing to say, it was interesting after all, even if he didnt understand much of it. Your world sounded absolutely bizarre to him. It was hard to comprehend many of the things you said, but he thought he could listen for hours just to hear your ebullient voice, he supposed you were fairing rather well considering the fact that you had fell through some kind of blip in the magical web of infinite worlds— and may very well never see any of your friends and family ever again.

He had also noticed that your clothes were ridiculously useless and thin, he didn't understand what purpose they even served besides merely hiding the color of your nipples. He could see the curve of your body right through them, he was trying to be good, trying not to let his fingertips accidentally brush against the side of your breast while adjusting his hold on you. It's ill mannered to imagine how your cock would split a tiny little human woman in two the first day you meet her, he reminded himself. He knew he shouldn't stare either, so he tried to keep his eyes to anything but you, it proved to be rather challenging.

He thought you might be the most fascinating thing he'd encountered in all of his five hundred years of life.

"Well we do have to go at some point, what was that second name? Bubbles?" He smirked, he liked that. First, it was a word that he knew and understood, finally. Second, it suited you, despite having met you only hours ago... Undoubtedly a Bubbles.

"It's my at for all of my socials and it kind of just became my nickname," you respond and you can't help but smile back at that amused smirk he wore, it was definitely contagious, as small as it was.

"You may as well be speaking another language, but I don't mind, because you look positively scrumptious doing it," he paused before adjusting his stance, his grip tightening slightly on you, the heat from his fingertips against the thin fabric of your tank top and leggings was melting you from the inside out. He was carrying you bridal style, but it was almost more like a cradle considering how small you were compared to him. You were blushing at his comment, you couldn't help it, the sexual gravelly lull of his voice definitely had to be some kind of bat-man siren song.

Your heart beat quickened as he took a step forward, the realization that his tightening hands meant you were about to be transported through the clouds by a man with fucking wings. "Wait!" you yelp, peering up at him with a panicked look on your face. Azriel raised his eyebrows, freezing in place.

"Yes?" He asks, drawing out the word with a teasing inflection in his voice. His eyes were patient but he wore an amused smirk, his attention now solely fixated on your plump parted lips. I wonder how much of my cock I can fit in that pretty little mou—

"There's no pre-flight safety lecture?" You never thought you would miss the condescendence of flight attendants so much. You would have given anything for an espresso martini and a blanket and maybe one of those bags of miniature pretzels, your stomach growled at the thought.

"Hold on?" Azriel tries, that same amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. You let out a less than satisfied noise and he chuckles quietly. "I don't take many new passengers," he admits sheepishly. He didnt mind all the stalling so much, it meant he got to relish in your scent for a little longer, usually humans didnt smell this good.

"Wow you are really making me feel sooo much better, thank you for that," you utter sarcastically, your hand tightly gripping his chest, you could feel the steady beat of his heart under the leather of his, bondage suit? You didnt know. Azriel chuckles again and you fight the urge to shiver at the rumble that traveled through his chest with his laugh.

"The more we sit here and talk about it, the more afraid you'll be," and there is no warning, there is no hey im about to shoot hundreds of feet in the air. There is only wind, and your hair everywhere, and clinging onto Azriel for dear life— and shrieking like you had that time there was an unnaturally large spider that had moved into your walk in closet back home.

"Not fucking cool Azriel," you shout, your voice high over the whipping wind, your eyes are tightly squinted and youre almost glad you can't see his annoyingly amused smirk. "A one, two, three would be nice— and I'd like you to know right now that there isn't going to be a next time," your skin is covered in goosebumps and you were sure if it wasnt for the searing heat of his body you would have been shaking.

"I do love a challenge Bubbles," he dips his head down, and you can feel his nose brush against your scalp, your toes curl involuntarily at the sound of his voice. Raspy and seductive. You squeeze your eyes shut, hell would freeze over before you opened them.

"Never. The. Fuck. Again." You say, and it's a promise, you want to sock him over the head when he only laughs in response. "Im glad youre getting a real good laugh about this," you don't dare to open your eyes, even though that smile was the most dazzling you had ever seen. The only positive side to your current situation was how delicious he smelled.

"Youre fine."

"I think I might pass away."

-

You don't know how long it's been when you finally land back on the ground, and you hadn't opened your eyes once. No matter how many times Azriel had tried to get you to. "Open your eyes," he instructs, finally setting you down gently onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter open and you take in the sight of the room the two of you were now in. Your lips part slightly at the size of the bed, it was four poster super vintage looking, and the largest bed you had ever seen. There wasnt much beside the bed in the room, large windows, long curtains that hung almost from floor to ceiling and a large glass door that lead to the balcony. A single table on one side with an array of weapons, none of them guns you noticed. And a very tall wardrobe on the other side of the room. Despite the quality of the furniture it was horribly monochromatic.

"Im going to have to hide you here— For now," he looked down at you, waiting for you to say something, you didnt know what you were supposed to say to that. Hiding implied that whatever was outside was dangerous. "I know its not much, my living situation recently became a little more complicated— sometimes its nice to have a place to go that nobody knows about," he explains, his eyes still fixated on you. He didnt feel good about leaving you here all alone, but it was probably the safest place— and he didnt know how Rhys was going to react about a human girl from another world.

No one else had been to Azriels new apartment, he thought it rather ironic that a human girl was the first to see. With Cassian and Nesta fresh off of the bond- and Rhys and Feyre's hands more than full with Nyx... Azriel had just known it was time for a private place of his own. And it was proving to be quite useful now, perhaps a secret little copulation den for the erotic torture of a human girl— no not torture exactly, she would like it, she would be begging—

Your voice interrupted his insolent thoughts. "It's giving serial killer. Like a pop of color maybe? A Himalayan salt lamp? A few throw pillows definitely never hurt anyone," you say before turning around finally to meet his gaze, your heart almost stops, no pookie, youre not hallucinating, his eyes did just get three shades darker.

"Right, well I guess you'll have to help me " he responds before clearing his throat, and you could tell he hadnt really understood. His expression was completely indifferent, but his eyes, a shiver ran up your spine. "Make yourself at home, I'll be back and when I am I'll have food. There's a bathing room down the hall, and you can help yourself to whatever you can find to wear in there- though I'm sure it won't fit," he gestures to the wardrobe, "and I usually sleep nude so you may not find much at all," he adds, one more ghost of a smirk, before leaping off of the balcony and shooting into the sky.

You can't help but watch as he flies away, his enormous wings looking like some crazy CGI shit. You shuddered, remembering that moments ago you had been up there with him. When youre sure hes gone and you know youre alone, you cry. Ugly cry.

a/n: i would literally cut out my kidney with a bread knife and hand it over on a silver platter to be reader hahaha I think I got everyone on the tag list tell me if I missed ya im going to get drunk now

taglist<3: @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @smalljasper289 @cherryinsalemverse @cleverzonkwombatsludge @serxndipity-ipity-blog @blessthepizzaman

[megamindsecretlair]

Run it Back

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Daddy kink, pet names. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Degradation/Praise kink.

Summary: You forgot to check in with Tyrone and he calls while you're at the club. You rush home to apologize properly.

Word Count: 2,603k

A/N: Oh look, I'm zooted and feral again. This was so hot. I had a lot of fun writing it! Thank you all so much for all of your support and for reading! Goodness, how did this taglist get so big? ILY FRFR. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @wakandas-vibranium @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody

You dug your phone out of your purse as you danced to the music in the club. You were too turned up and had been having a blast with your friends, turning away guys but accepting the free drinks. Tyrone’s name flashed on your phone and you stopped dancing. 

Your friend noticed and elbowed you to get your attention. You waved her off. Your stomach turned sour. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that third drink. Or was it the fourth? 

“Hey, baby,” you said. 

“The hell you at?” Tyrone’s voice was like a punch through the phone. He was mad. Scratch that. He was furious with you. 

“Um, I’m a little busy,” you said. You knew he could hear the thumping music. There was no need to tell him where. 

“You know what time it is?” He asked. 

You looked at the screen on your phone. Shit! You were  way, way past the time you told him you’d be home. You didn’t even text him to say you were staying longer. He loved that you were independent but it killed him when you were reckless with your safety. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. We started dancing and they played all of my songs. You know like–”

“If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m comin’ for that ass,” he snapped. 

“Wait, I’m farther than that,” you said. Mentally, you thought about the route to your place with Tyrone. Even if you broke all of the traffic laws on your way over, there was no way to make it in ten minutes. The dread in your stomach gave way to hefty need. Your core ached and the hairs on the back of your neck raised. 

“Nine minutes,” he said. 

He hung up the phone and you got up. You didn’t say goodbye to your friends or stop long enough to breathe. You rushed out of the club and raced to your car. Your heart thumped in your chest and your hands shook. 

You pulled out of your space and pulled into late LA traffic. They said New York was the City that Never Sleeps. So LA must be the City that Never Learns to Fuckin’ Drive. A car honked at you as if you were the problem. If a muthafucka ain’t got their headlights on, how the fuck you supposed to see them? 

You made it home, barely legally. There were too many close turns and random cars enough to spook you. You thought you were going to get into an accident. But the closer you made it to Crenshaw, the more the traffic died down. Hood people knew when to take they asses home. 

You straightened out your outfit as you got to the door. His car was still in the driveway. You wondered if he really would have come to the club and scooped you up. You didn’t need that embarrassment. 

You got inside and listened out for where Tyrone may be. The living room and kitchen beyond were dark. You didn’t see a light upstairs either. Surely, he would have waited until you were inside, right? 

A light popped on to your left and you jumped. Fear mixed with desire until you shook a bit. Tyrone sat in his favorite chair in the living room. A recliner that you both picked out. But more so him. He kept eyeing it and you knew that he never treated himself. His mind was always on the hustle and more money. You were trying to buff that rough edge of him. It wasn’t easy, but baby steps. 

His hand was on his knee while the other propped up his head. The light had a thin shade so it covered a good portion of him. The other side was cast in shadow, giving him an eerie look. 

You bit your lip and fought off shivers. If you thought you were needy before, you were downright feral as you looked at your man. Sometimes, you simply watched him. Watched the way he moved. The slow way he walked, his big hands, his wide smile, and his fine lips. His hair needed a little touching up. You made a mental note to do that for him tomorrow.

“Hey baby,” you said.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me. The fuck you doing out this late?” He asked.

“I didn’t look at the time!” You said. 

“That’s not good enough. You think I like yelling at you?” He asked. He wasn’t really yelling. He never truly yelled. His voice went up in volume, that was about it. Tyrone held his anger inside. As if he were fueling his own angry battery. 

“No! I’m sorry! I’ll do better,” you said. 

“What you say?” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you said. That didn’t seem to appease him. He stared at you. He was still as a statue. Then his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

“Bust me this nut and maybe I’ll believe you,” he said. He crooked his fingers at you. 

You took off your jacket and threw it onto the sofa next to you. You tossed your purse on top. You had chosen to wear a dress and you were so happy you did. You kept your heels on and slowly got to your knees.

You crawled across carpet. It was a short distance to his knees. He spread them as you got closer. You kept your eyes trained on him but in your peripheral, you saw his sweats tent up. 

You stopped and knelt in front of him. You rubbed his knees as he looked down at you. “Get it nice and wet for me,” he said. 

You leaned up further and started to untie his sweats. You could feel your arousal soaking your panties already. Your inner thighs tingled. You freed him and his dick twitched. You stroked him, always marveling at how it was both soft and hard. 

Precum leaked on the tip and you ran your tongue over it. You were not supposed to be attracted to dicks. They were gross. And men hardly took care of themselves as it is. But Tyrone at least cared about hygiene. His hairs tickled your nose as you sucked him in.

Tyrone groaned and threw his head back. He settled further into the chair. You grabbed his meaty thighs and took in as much of him as you could. Your loud and filthy slurping noises filled the room. Tyrone moaned and it only turned you on more. You were doing this to him. And he was loving it. 

His hands dug into your hair and gripped your head. He pulled you down further on his dick and you gagged a bit on him. You tapped his thigh twice. He let up some so that you could finally breathe. You tapped him once to let him know that you were okay now.

He continued to fuck your mouth. He once told you that he didn’t know which he loved more: filling your mouth with dick or sliding into the wet, hot heat of your cunt. Watching your eyes tear up or watching his dick disappear inside you. There were so many good options. 

“Fuck, this mouth is good for somethin’,” he said.

Your pussy fluttered at the backhanded compliment. He was such an ass. A cocky muthafucka that ain’t never been told no twice. But fuck he was delicious. The line of his neck was visible since his head was thrown back. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slack. 

You swirled your tongue around his slit while your hands worked him up and down. He twitched at the added sensation. There was enough of your spit to slide between your fingers and coat him while he drove into your mouth. 

“Naw, I wanna cum in my pussy,” he said. He stood up abruptly and picked you up under your arms. You squealed. He knows you hated being picked up like that. You were a chunky girl your whole life. You wanted to quit it, but it didn’t want to quit you. You loved your body. You’d much rather have your gorgeous ass than be stick thin. Every blue moon, your insecurities flared up. You didn’t want him to strain something trying to lift you.

He’d only tell you to mind yo’ damn business. While he proceeded to pick you up any time he wanted. Especially in the bedroom. He made it his personal mission to toss you around as much as he could. 

He dropped you onto his recliner. Your hands and knees dug unto the leather. It faintly smelled like him. Clean, earthy. Tyrone bunched up your dress in one hand. He leaned down and grabbed your ass cheeks. He wiggled them a bit and then gave it a light smack. Your pussy clenched and you moaned a little bit. 

“You know Daddy worries about you, right?” He asked. He ripped your panties and slid inside of you in one powerful thrust and your head dropped to the chair. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. He stretched you out. You were ready for him but fuck, that sweet middle between pleasure and pain had you in a vise grip. 

You nodded to answer his questions. “I’m sorry Daddy,” you said. 

He smacked your ass, hard. You flinched and cried out. “I don’t believe you,” he said. He smacked your ass again and you nearly jumped off of the couch. 

You started to beg him to forgive you. It truly had been a mistake. “You did this shit on purpose, didn’t you?” He didn’t let you answer. He smacked your ass again and kept smacking you. Your ass was on fire. The wind from his hand was starting to hurt you more than the slap did. 

You relaxed and sagged against him. Once you were relaxed, he started to move again. He slammed into you hard and the momentum drove you into the chair. You felt every inch of him. The veins on his dick tickled the walls of your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” you said. It was like the tip of his cock pressed up against your soul. He touched that deep, aching core of you. He hit it just right and continued to hit it. Your ass slapped against his thighs. 

You didn’t know if your moans were louder or if his were. His thumbs dug into the top of your ass and you keened. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Show me how sorry you are,” he said. “Let me hear it, mama.” 

You gave him every sound you were capable of producing. Every moan and sigh. When he hit it how you liked, you made all kinds of incoherent sounds. Your body would jerk and twitch. He liked when you could barely shriek because he felt so good. 

Your hand reached down to rub your clit. You were so close. You just needed something else. Tyrone’s hand came out of nowhere to slap your ass. “Shit!” You yelled. 

Tyrone sucked his teeth and hit you again. “Move yo fuckin’ hand. Don’t touch my shit,” he said. He grabbed your wayward hand and brought it up behind your back. He bunched up your dress again and held it and your hand against your back.

He pushed into you more until your ass was the only thing in the air. He somehow slid deeper and you cried out. Your orgasm whipped through you, dragging you under and higher and inside out. Your eyes were clenched shut as you rode wave after wave.

Tyrone continued to chase his own orgasm. Your walls squeezed him and he twitched. He unloaded inside of you. He filled you up still. His hot cum pulsing inside of you. You felt a bit of him leak out and you groaned at the sensation. He stroked another few times before finally stopping and panting. 

Your erratic breaths matched his and you both tried to come down. Tyrone pulled out and you both groaned at the sensation. He spread your ass cheeks so that he could watch himself leak out of you. 

Your ass was still cresting the edge of pain. His fingers dug into it, making the pain flare in random bursts. You were so fucked out. You would have agreed to a twenty-four seven bodyguard if it meant that you never had to leave this headspace.

“You got the prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he growled. He brought his hand up to rub along your clit and pussy. He pushed a finger inside of you and you moaned. 

“Turn over,” he said.

He helped you get off of the recliner and then position yourself on your back. He gripped your thighs and pulled you to the edge. He bent down and entered you once more. “Can’t get enough of this shit, huh? You need more don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy, fuck,” you moaned. You peeked over your boobs to watch some of him slip inside you. When he pulled out, he was coated into your juices. Glistening in the low light with it. Then he’d slide back into you and you threw your head back. 

He had your hands pinned to the armrests and your knees crooked on either side of his arms. You couldn’t touch him. And more importantly, you couldn’t touch yourself. 

“You owe me a few more,” he said. He pounded inside of you. You jerked from his powerful thrusts. Sweat gathered on his forehead. He leaned down and gave you a bruising kiss. His lips were warm and inviting. He pulled away before you could really enjoy it.

“Good girls get kisses. Yo ass been bad as fuck tonight,” he said.

That only made you wetter. He noticed and moaned. He leaned forward putting all of his weight on you. You were almost folded in half. You choked on the lack of adequate air but he was pounding into you and you just had to take it.

You had to take his thick cock however he wanted to give it to you. “Daddy, please,” you begged. You sniffled as your arousal built higher and higher. You tensed for half a second. That second seemed to stretch as you balanced on the precipice. Like a drop of water on the faucet after you turn off the water. You knew it was going to fall, it was only a matter of when.

You came with a loud scream, moaning in his ear. “Tyrone!” You yelled. He bit your neck, your shoulder, and licked away the sting. He kissed the sensitive spot below your ear. 

He came right after you. It was like you were in sync. Hot jets of cum filled you up once more. You were truly a soaked mess right now. His cum slipped out of your pussy and dribbled onto your ass cheeks. The sensation was slow and tickled a bit. 

He rubbed your sides and your thighs as you both calmed down. He nuzzled your neck. He kissed your cheek. 

“I ain’t even half done with you yet,” he said. 

You shook your head back and forth. “I can’t, Daddy,” you whined. You didn’t have the strength for another one. He lightly tapped the side of your face until you opened your eyes and looked at him. 

“Naw, you can give me some more,” he said. He leaned down and bit your ear. You shuddered and clenched around him. “Be a good girl for me and take this dick.”

You nodded. Well, when he put it that way…

He pulled out of you. Then he went back in slowly. It was going to be a long night.

&&&

A/N: If you enjoyed this, there's more here: The Secret Tyrone Files

[dearqueerheart]

sorry just let me infodump for one second, ok? ok.

epic the musical has me in a chokehold (spoilers ahead, PLEASE GO LISTEN if it seems like something you’d be into). and i was rethinking on the song Monster. specifically, the part where he begins to justify being cruel by comparing himself to the foes he’s faced. polyphemus, circe, poseidon (i 1000% think the order matters, ill get there in a second). and all of that just shows how his, like so many dangerously intelligent men in greek myths, big flaw is hubris. overwhelming hubris. he thinks that he’s allowed to be cruel because a cyclops, a witch, and a god are allowed to be cruel. he is just one of so many greeks who think they’re as good as — or even better than — the gods.

and there are hints of this throughout the entire show up until that point. he attempts (and succeeds in, after facing tragic losses) to deceive polyphemus by drugging him with the lotus fruit, believing that he is more powerful and intelligent than the cyclops. he tries to reason with poseidon after being asked by the sea god for an apology for blinding his son, but he does this in SUCH a manipulative way. poseidon tells him, “i won’t kill your men if you apologize to me,” and ody goes, “alright bet,” and gives him such an incredible non-apology (“poseidon, we meant no harm”). he is too fucking proud to apologize, and will attempt to MANIPULATE AN OLYMPIAN GOD in order to protect that pride. it’s wild.

he actually does successfully “defeat” circe, but only by literally begging her (“i beg you circe, grant us mercy”) to save his men and help him get home. he wins this fight because he puts his pride aside for once in his goddamn life, and rescues the scouting party because of it.

so here’s why the order matters in the song monster: he’s working himself up to comparing himself to an olympian. he doesn’t list his foes in chronological order. he lists them in amount of power and intelligence. if you just take what he’s saying at face value, he says “well, polyphemus was justified, and circe was justified, and poseidon was justified, then i must be, too!” but if you read deeper, he’s comparing his evil deeds to the evil deeds of people far more powerful and complicated and experienced than him.

in the thunder saga, both scylla and zeus manipulate this pride. scylla uses it to drop odysseus’ guard, inviting him to compare himself to her, and to find kinship with her, as they’re both “monsters” (“deep down, you know that we are the same”). and zeus tests his pride, to see how deep it fully goes, and possibly to reveal to odysseus himself how prideful he is. like poseidon and athena, zeus may be trying to teach odysseus a lesson, albeit significantly harsher than the latter. (“if i had to make you choose the lives of your men and crew or your own, why do i think they’d lose?”) it’s one of my favorite moments in that song, because it’s really just zeus pushing all of odysseus’ buttons to force him to make the choice that zeus wants him to make.

anyway that’s all. it’s just so cool and i have a lot of thinks!! i could make a whole essay just about the gods’ desire to teach odysseus but i’ll save that for another time.

[pimosworld]

Only if you catch me

Pairing- Frankie Morales x f!reader

Chapter Summary-You and Frankie have your first official date.

Chapter Warnings- 18+, MDNI, mentions of addiction, angst, fluff, first date jitters, kissing, sexual tension, flirting, Frankie is a gentleman

WC-6.7k

A/N- These two are so sickeningly sweet I can’t stand it. Reader and Frankie have a long way to go but it almost always starts with butterflies. @toobusyshrimping Thank you for the help with the “foot in mouth” line.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 2. Composite

For some people, one slip up means disaster. There is a huge emphasis on not taking that first drink. That first drink can trigger the obsession, the compulsion. The need for more and more. 

  It took Frankie awhile to find an NA meeting not focused on shame, but healing. A place that didn’t ask you to share something about your week like you were a child. A place that didn’t tell you to be comfortable all the while making you sit on hard metal folding chairs in a cold dingey room. 

  Soft ambient lighting strategically placed to help you relax, instead of the harsh fluorescent lights like you were being interrogated. 

  It’s a weekly routine. 

  One Frankie has grown used to over the last year. From that first day feeling like he was going to crawl out of his skin to now being a regular face amongst the crowd. 

  His knee no longer bounces nervously as he listens to others talk about their battles with addiction. His hands are steady resting along his thighs instead of worrying at the frayed lines on his shirt.

  He’s seated facing the door so he sees Jones enter. The older man looked a little more gray than usual. The worry lines deeper and more evident on his face. His clothes could use an iron and he looks on the tail end of a three day bender…but he’s here. 

  He gravitates towards him and Frankie offers the open seat. 

  “Look, I’m sorry about…”

  Frankie waves him off, not wanting to do the awkward song and dance. Offers him an easy out and a curt don’t let it happen again. 

  “I hope your lady wasn’t too upset.” 

  Thankfully the moderator enters the room to save him from an explanation. His lady. A statement he hadn’t heard in awhile. Obviously way too soon to call you that, but he doesn’t feel like correcting him. He may be getting ahead of himself but he hopes he won’t have to correct him. 

  Frankie hasn’t felt this way about anyone since her. Somewhere deep down where he shoves every ounce of guilt he thinks he may have never felt this way about her at all. 

  Bonded by trauma and addiction, he somehow thought what they had was love. He thought they were meant for each other because who could possibly love him and all his fucked up past. He started coming to these meetings with her and then she made excuses as to why she didn’t need them anymore. That was the beginning of the end, when he finally realized that maybe they weren’t as compatible as he thought. Each day he healed his trauma, each day he stayed sober they grew further and further apart. 

  And then Colombia. 

  Frankie returned with the boys and no Tom. No amount of money could fix the damage they had all done. Fractured and barely holding on, when he needed her the most she came to him so strung out he didn’t recognize her. The woman he used to love, the woman who had laid her life on the line for them so many times he lost count. He’s glad for her sake that Santi couldn’t find her before Colombia or she might not have made it home. 

  “Francisco, do you want to share anything new about your week?”

  All eyes are on him and he’s not sure how long she’s been trying to get his attention. Judging by the sly way Jones tries to hide his smile behind his hands it’s been a second. 

He adjusts his cap on his head, nervously running his fingers through his hair. “Umm, not much to share about this week.”

  “That’s okay, we don’t always have to share. I’m just glad to see your face.” 

  He’s not sure where it comes from as she goes to address the next person. As though he has no control over his body when he begins to clear his throat and she redirects her attention back to him. 

  “Actually.” 

  He straightens up a little in his seat, squaring his shoulders back. 

  “I met someone this week.” He’s met with her pleased smile and a few low whistles. “We have a date this Saturday.” 

  He lets out a sigh of relief, not usually one to share during meetings but never being pushed too. Something makes him want to open up more. Perhaps it’s you. 

  “I’m proud of you Francisco. For sharing and for putting yourself out there.” 

  He knows she’s the only one who keeps track of everyone’s recovery process. He brushed it off six months ago when she informed him that he’s been coming in consistently for a year. 

  The silent understanding that he’d reached a milestone. 

  He memorized the pamphlet his first time coming in. The only thing he could focus on while his hands shook and his back sweat. 

  He scoffed when he first read the part about dating.

Dating too soon can be detrimental to mental health and well-being, and increase the risk of relapse. During early recovery, people are still learning to navigate their new sober lives, and dating can be a distraction or replacement addiction. It can also be difficult to maintain sobriety while dating. 

He ignored the advice that first month when Benny needed him as a wingman for a double date. He nearly had a panic attack at the restaurant when his date wouldn’t stop pestering him about his time in the military, what he did for work, does he have any siblings. All the monotonous first date conversations that he should be able to answer but her wine stained lips and suffocating perfume were making it all too much. 

For what it was worth Benny felt bad when Frankie ditched the date and drove straight to Will’s house because he didn’t trust himself to be alone. 

A year and a half later and you come along. A breath of fresh air

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur of introductions, confessions and thoughts of you as he makes his way out to his truck. 

****

“I’m not entirely sure why you think I’m gonna be able to help you pick an outfit.” 

Your phone is propped up on top of your mirror with a little FaceTime image of your sister in the corner as you twirl around. 

“You used to help me pick outfits all the time Dom.” 

“Yes but I have no sense of style now. I spend most days in sweats.” 

You step out of frame not satisfied with the third outfit you’d tried as you add to the growing pile of clothes on the bed. 

“Tell me more about the date and I might be able to help you.” She yells knowing you’ve gone to your closet.You’ve spent the better part of the last hour hoping to find something that doesn’t remind you of him. You really needed to get some new clothes but that would require money you did not have at the moment. 

You pull out your dress from your college graduation. A red satin wrap with a low neckline and a flowy skirt. You may have worn it a thousand times but it’s never done you wrong. 

“He said we’re going to dinner, he’s picking me up at seven.Those are all the details I have.” You smooth your hands along the soft fabric as you stand in front of the mirror once more. Standing on your tip toes to get a better look you hear a tiny gasp. 

“Auntie you look so pwetty.” You can see the top of your nephew's dark curls just peeking out in the frame as your sister props him on her knee. 

“Well I think that’s a winner.” Dom says as she tickles her son and he lets out an excited squeal. “Don’t you think so buddy?” 

He nods enthusiastically and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. 

“I love red!” He yells and you both burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Red is his favorite color.” She ruffles his hair as he  slides off her lap, bored with the adults' conversation. “Red is bold?”

“Too bold?” 

She holds up her hands as she senses the nervousness in your voice. “I’m just saying it’s refreshing to see this side of you again.” 

You fix her with a look already knowing where this conversation is heading. A direction you don’t even want to follow right before a date. 

“Don’t think I don’t recognize that dress, I haven’t seen you wear it since that party.”

“Dom.” Your voice in a low warning. 

“I hated the way he spoke to you and then you never wore it again.” 

“Please don’t start.” Your voice trembles as you move out of frame, hastily untying the knot in the dress. 

“Come back please, I’m not trying to start a fight!” 

You know deep down she’s just being a concerned sister. You’ve been working on this particular trigger with your therapist. Not being able to sense when someone is helping and when someone is judging. 

You let out a shaky breath as you grab the phone from the mirror, plopping down amongst the clothes on your bed. A stray tear rolling down your cheek as you see her moving through her house to a quiet room. 

“Listen please….I love you and I just want what’s best for you. Don’t shut me out again because it nearly killed us both last time.” 

You close your eyes as you listen intently to your sister's words. Trying desperately to shove down the thoughts you’ve kept at bay for the better part of a year. 

“I’m not mom okay. I’m not judging you, I just want my sister back. I want that person back who wore the red dress. I want the person back who snuck out with me and got a tattoo for my eighteenth birthday.” She’s crying now and it’s just occurred to you that it’s been ages since you’ve seen her cry. “I want the sister who forged moms signature so she could go skydiving.” 

You both let out a guttural laugh when you remember how livid she was at the both of you. 

“I saw a glimpse of her the other day when you called me to talk about the job…and just now when you put on that dress.” 

You're grateful you still have hours to go before Frankie comes to get you as you wipe the mess on your face and smile back at your sister. 

“Jesus Dom, I’ll wear the damn dress. You didn’t need to make me cry.” 

She’s smiling ear to ear as she wipes the tears from her face and you both let out wet laughs. 

“Call me when you get home please.” 

“You know I will. Tell Elise I said hi and tell Casey I love him and thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

You hang up the phone and lay in your pile of clothes a little while longer just thinking about what your sister said. She was right. She was always right. 

****

6:45 pm

Frankie sits outside your quaint apartment building not wanting to head up too early. 

You live on the top floor, which is definitely the safer option for someone like you living alone. The complex isn’t gated and that makes him uneasy. 

Anyone can just walk up to your doorstep. 

He did notice security driving around which is nice, but security guards are a dime a dozen and they can’t really protect you from much.

It is one of the nicer neighborhoods in town, close to schools and a police station just down the road. 

But when do the police ever show up in time. 

He can tell he’s obsessing but he can’t really help himself. He is not really sure why he’s even so concerned about these things when it comes to you. He just met you and you’ve lived on your own successfully without him. He doesn’t need to swoop in and save you. In the words of his therapist, you don’t have to be in protective mode all the time.

Easier said than done. 

In the time he’s spent scoping out your living situation five minutes have passed. He figures that should give him enough time to head upstairs and only arrive five minutes early. He checks his hair once more in the rear view mirror not totally loving how it looks without his hat but deciding not to fidget with it anymore. He grabs the bouquet of red roses that he thought too hard over at the florist thinking maybe it was too cliche but at her insistence on how romantic of a gesture it was decided to go for it. 

****

6:45 pm

You’ve been standing in front of the floor length mirror in your bedroom for the last ten minutes trying to decide on a shoe. You texted your sister and she was no help telling you to go for something wild yet sensible. Those two things could not be more opposite. You didn’t want to go too fancy just in case this was a casual restaurant, but what if it was a really nice restaurant and you decided on a sandal? 

You were definitely overthinking this. 

You silently curse to yourself knowing you were running out of time and you can’t really go on a date barefoot when you remember some strappy low heels you bought for a wedding awhile ago. Perfectly cute and sensible all at once. 

You throw them on and give yourself one last look before you glance at your vanity table. The red lipstick you went back and forth over practically mocking you with the cap off. 

I want the person back who wore the red dress. 

Your sister's words echoing in the back of your mind. 

Fuck it. 

You hold the tube in your hand as your fingers tremble slightly. You stare down at the vibrant, fiery hue in stark contrast to your normal understated palette. With a deep breath you carefully apply, the texture smooth and crisp against your lips. When you first take a step back and look, the color is so striking it feels foreign. 

It’s also exhilarating and cliche that some red lipstick is giving you this huge boost of confidence. 

You grab a black leather purse hanging from your closet door opting to forgo your usual tote bag for something a little nicer. You tuck the lipstick, your phone and a little wallet inside leaving just enough room for Andy. Your sister would probably have your neck for bringing your camera on a date but it was your comfort blanket at the moment and you weren’t ready to let go of it. 

A heavy knock on your door and you take a deep breath and glance at the clock on your bedside table. 

****

6:55 pm

He knocks once and winces at the loud sound that echoes against the cheap wood. His hands are sweating against the plastic wrapped around the flowers and he hopes he’s not this rusty the rest of the night. 

When you greet him at the door he’s sure his heart stops for a few seconds. It’s entirely unexpected, his reaction and his complete underestimation of what he thought you would look like. He knew you were beautiful when he first saw you in the gym but this. This has him questioning everything. 

The red. 

Your dress and your lips. It’s Pavlovian the way he wants to sink his teeth into them. If this is you then he’s a goner. 

“Frankie…do you want to come in?”

“Oh shit…sorry. Ya, these are for you.” He practically shoves the roses at you and thankfully you laugh at his fumbling. He’s not sure how long he stood there gawking at you. 

“Why don’t you come in so I can put these in some water.” He’s following the scent of you like a cartoon Pepe le pew through your quaint apartment. 

You fumble around the kitchen cabinets looking for a vase as he takes in the space. It already feels a lot more warm and inviting than his five bedroom house that seems like a void of endless drab furniture. 

Little hints of you everywhere, a shelf with vintage cameras lined up. An odd shaped purple suede couch in the middle of the room, your coffee table looks like an old door with legs on it,  plants hung in any available window. A picture of you with a little baby on the wall along with some of the most vivid scenery shots he’s ever seen. Another picture with a woman who closely resembles you and an older man on what looks like your graduation day, wearing this dress. 

“I know I have a lot of…eclectic things.” You say as he turns to you. You’ve somehow trimmed and arranged the roses in the time it’s taken him to inspect your space. 

“Is that a pitcher?” 

“I mean…technically yes, but it’s serving as my vase since I don’t receive flowers much.” 

He hums in disbelief because how could a woman like you not receive flowers just for merely existing. 

He doesn’t even know if you realize you’re smiling behind the bouquet. A perfect blend of red that you serve as the backdrop. He takes out his phone and boldly takes a picture. 

You squint your eyes at him because he has his sound on. 

“Francisco.” Your voice drops an octave dripping all syrupy sweet. 

He surely won’t make it with you saying his name like that. 

“Yes, that is my name.” 

“Did you take my picture?” Hands on your hips and your tongue on your canine. 

“Maybe? I get the feeling you’re behind the camera too much.” 

You laugh as though it’s some inside joke because it is really. Your sister is always pestering you to be in the photo. But that leaves someone out and it might as well be you. 

“Can I see?” You move towards him and place your hand on his arm and he’s tempted to let you. He could read lips if they were yours as he repeats them back to himself. 

He places his phone in his pocket and watches as your eyes flit briefly to where it disappeared. 

“Not tonight.” 

Some other time 

You’re not so bold to reach in and see for yourself. You’re so close to him now you can feel his body heat and if this is what weak in the knees feels like then you’re certainly that. It takes every fiber of your being to remove your hand from his arm. 

He misses the warmth immediately as you step back but the look on your face shows a sign of that shy girl from the other night. 

“Should we?” You gesture to the door. “I don’t want to miss a reservation.” 

“No reservations needed. I know the owner of the restaurant.” 

You raise your eyebrows and he didn’t mean for it to come out so cocky. “I hope you like Italian.” He changes the subject hoping to avoid the awkwardness that he’s let fall over the room. 

“Points for you since that’s my favorite.” You reach for his hand as he leads you out and as you lock up your apartment you have to remind yourself that he’s not your ex. The man who knows the owner, the man who decides what you eat and drink, the man who didn’t care less what you wanted as long as you didn’t embarrass him. 

****

If he notices your shift in demeanor he says nothing. It’s easy to relax around Frankie and you notice yourself slipping into a peaceful routine with him. When he opens your door and helps you into the truck. When he instinctively grabs your hand as he drives, you notice his signature cap left at home for your date as his hair blows in the wind. 

This doesn’t feel like a first date. 

This feels like something you do all the time. Like you fit right into some imaginary puzzle piece in his life. He’s humming some tune under his breath and you’re feeling a little more bold as your fingers lace with his. 

You can feel him watching you from the corner of your eye as you look out the window at the familiar surroundings. He likes the way you look next to him, in his truck and something bubbles to the surface that he has to push down to not scare you away too soon. 

“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.” You glance over at him as his large hand grips the steering wheel. “I was thinking it real hard but the words never came out.” 

“I was thinking something similar myself.” 

He notes that low timber in your voice when you compliment him. It takes everything in him to keep his eyes on the road. 

“I was hoping I wasn’t too overdressed.” You say apprehensively as he pulls into a small parking lot. 

“Baby for where we’re going you’re perfectly dressed.” 

You don’t have time to even react to the pet name when you see the restaurant come into view as he parks directly in front. 

“Frankie, this place is impossible to get a reservation. Trust me I tried and failed when my sister was in town visiting me.” 

He smirks as he opens and closes the drivers side door leaving you momentarily to saunter around and open yours. 

He holds his hand out to help you down and gently grabs your waist in the other. “Make sure to let me know next time she’s in town.” 

“Okay.” You say a little breathlessly as his large hand engulfs yours and he guides you towards the entrance. 

****

“Morales for two.” 

“Right this way Mr. Morales.” The Maitre d’ leads the way dressed in a tailored suit with a vest and small black bow tie. 

The interior is breathtaking as you make your way through the ornate hallway. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden light over the crisp white linens. There’s plush, crushed velvet and intricate woodwork furniture throughout.The walls are adorned with tapestries and the scent of fresh herbs and garlic wafts from the kitchen. 

You’ve noticed the entire night Frankie has been sure to walk behind you or beside you. Something you didn’t even realize in your previous relationship was a courtesy you weren’t afforded. Always being pulled along or left behind. His hand is warm, placed gently on your back as you pass by other well-dressed couples engaged in intimate conversations. Their voices a soft murmur against the backdrop of classical music playing somewhere in the distance. 

You’re both ushered toward a secluded corner of the restaurant, away from the bustling dining room. Your breath catches as you take in the scene before you. A small path opens up to a hidden courtyard, bathed in a soft glow of candlelight. Ivy climbs gracefully up the old stonewalls. A table set for two is adorned with empire candles and one single rose. 

Frankie’s eyes are on you, a mix of nervousness and pride etched across his face. He’s clearly pleased with your reaction and he chuckles to himself as he takes in the romantic setting his friend arranged just for this moment. 

“I hoped you’d like it.” Frankie says, his voice a soft murmur as he pulls out your chair. 

“Like it! Frankie, are you serious? This is incredible.” 

He smiles at your reaction as he takes his place across from you. The tenderness in his gesture, the thoughtfulness of the setting-it all makes your heart flutter. This isn’t just a date. It’s a memory in the making, and his effort to impress you is overwhelming in the best way possible. 

****

“Frankie I have to say the website photos do not do this place justice.” 

The laugh that erupts from his chest catches you off guard briefly. “The owner was being cheap-.” 

“Cheap!” A familiar voice sounds from behind you as the gorgeous man you recognize from Benny's fight strolls over to your table. His hair is slicked back showing off his perfect bone structure. Slight salt and pepper stubble across his face. Dressed in all black and the first two buttons undone to show off his tan chest. 

Frankie stands from the table and embraces the man in a tight hug. He whispers something you don’t quite catch before turning to you with a wide smile. 

“Hi, I’m Santiago.” He holds out his hand for you and to your surprise kisses the top of your outstretched hand. “Fish whisked you away before I had a chance to introduce myself the other day.” 

“Fish?” 

“That is exactly why I whisked her away.” Frankie says through gritted teeth. 

Santiago holds his hands up in apology. “Sorry, I mean Francisco.” 

The waiter appears with a pitcher of water and pours for the table as Santiago instructs him to bring a bottle of sparkling when he returns with the bread. 

“So I hear you’re quite the photographer, I could use your help.” 

“Pope.” Frankie eyes him in warning. 

You reach across the table and take Frankie’s hand in yours. “It’s fine really.” 

Santiago’s eyes on your joined hands and a knowing smirk on his face. 

“I would love to take some photos for your website. They really are quite awful.” You say honestly. 

“Well I took them myself so…”

You unconsciously grimace and it’s equal parts comical and painful to look at as you palm your face. “I’m so sorry.” 

Both men are laughing before you can continue your apology. 

“No hard feelings, cariño. I’m a big boy and can take some criticism. This guy on the other hand.” He pats Frankie on the back. “Go easy on him for me.” 

A look of gratitude passes between them and Santiago steps back as the waiter reappears. 

He claps his hands. “I’ll leave you two love birds to enjoy. I have a very special meal planned for the evening so I hope you’re hungry.” 

He turns to leave but not before Frankie speaks. 

“Gracias hermano realmente aprecio todo.” 

“Para ti cualquier cosa.”

****

The conversation between you and Frankie flowed easily as each course was presented to you. Per Santiago’s instruction the waiter presented each dish to you in great detail. 

First Course: Antipasti Deliziosi

The evening begins with an elegant spread of antipasti, served on a polished wooden platter. The colorful assortment included thinly sliced prosciutto, delicate burrata cheese drizzled with balsamic reduction, and an array of marinated olives, artichoke hearts, and sun-dried tomatoes. 

Frankie tells you a little about his time in the military with the boys. After a brief explanation that because of some private government contracts they all did very well for themselves after the service. Of course your curiosity was peaked at the thought of Benny and Will owning their own gym and Santiago owning the most popular restaurant in town. Frankie had casually mentioned at your first encounter that he owned a private helicopter business. None of these men came off as self centered or what you would consider avaricious so it was refreshing to see such successful men be so humble. 

Albeit very intimidating that you struggled most months to pay your bills and your savings was almost at nothing after a year of being here. You quickly steered the conversation away from that topic which made you uncomfortable because of your previous relationship. You didn’t want to come off as some kind of gold digger. 

Second Course: Risotto ai Frutti di Mare

The second course featured a luxurious risotto with a medley of seafood—plump shrimp, tender scallops, and mussels. The creamy, saffron-infused risotto, complemented by a hint of lemon zest. Between forkfuls, Frankie shares anecdotes about his most memorable helicopter flights, while you told him( sparing some of the not so pretty details) of your spontaneous move just a year ago. 

He listens intently to you talk about trying to work when you first arrived but it being too overwhelming. You briefly mention therapy and for that he’s grateful he doesn’t have to be ashamed to talk about his struggles after leaving the military. There’s no judgment in your eyes when he talks about those meetings that saved his life. 

First date feels inappropriate and a little too heavy to mention ex’s so you both stay far away from that topic. 

You don’t mention your sobriety so he doesn’t push. 

You talk about finally taking that step and reaching out to Will for the shoot and he can’t help but shake his head on the timing of it all. 

Third Course: Filetto di Manzo con Salsa 

For the third course, the table is graced with a perfectly cooked filet mignon, its tender surface glazed with butter and rich red tomato purée . Accompanied by truffle mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus.

You’re beaming when you open up to him about some future projects you want to work on and the need to get back into weddings since those were your favorite. 

He may know some people that are seeking you out for just that but he won’t spoil the surprise. 

All of the normal first date questions that would usually bore him to death seem to feel different when he’s with you. The way you look in his eyes makes him feel like he’s floating. He’s sure you don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking or the way you moan after trying the first bite of each course. 

Your knee keeps brushing his under the table but it’s comforting when you don’t pull away. 

Dessert: Tiramisu Classico

The evening concludes with a classic tiramisu—layers of espresso-soaked ladyfingers, creamy mascarpone, and a dusting of cocoa powder. 

Once the waiter disappears, and since he’s feeling a little bold he takes your fork and a small piece. Holding it out for you as you wrap your still red lips around it and let out the most sinful sound he’s ever heard. 

Worth it. 

You take his fork and serve up a slightly larger piece and do your best to lean as he meets you halfway. His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when he takes a bite. 

Without thinking you reach across with your finger. “You’ve got.” And swipe the cream from the corner of his lip. Boldly licking the remnants as you watch something flash in his eyes. 

“Frankie. I don’t know how you’re gonna top this.” 

He watches you take another bite. “Oh I’m sure I can think of a few things.” He finally managed to say after he composed himself. “In fact, if you’re not afraid of heights I definitely have some ideas.” 

You sit back and clutch your chest. “Oh I would love to meet Lucy.” 

He chuckles as he looks at you and wonders where the hell you’ve been hiding. 

****

Santiago of course waited until you were finished to get your opinion and say his goodbyes. Frankie suggested you walk in the small park across from the restaurant. With a little push from Santi, the name he preferred you call him since Santiago was my father as he put it. 

It was a short walk to the park. 

You and Frankie strolled along the winding path encircling a small pond. The sun was already set but the sky still had those remnants of dusty pink and purple as the last rays bounced off the surface of the water. 

You love the way he instinctively takes your hand and he thinks it’s almost too perfect the way it fits in his. Like they had been designed for each other. The both of you walk in a comfortable silence exchanging glances as you stare at his profile and laugh to yourself. 

“Something funny hermosa?” 

“You never told me about the nickname.” You say matter of factly and he just sighs. 

Instinctually rubbing his hands along his jaw as he stops walking and you face him. “It’s better now but. I couldn’t grow a beard to save my life.” You laugh and he crowds your space. “The guys said I had whiskers like a catfish.” 

He raises his eyebrows as you hide your smile behind your hand. “I like it.” You say softly as you reach out, grazing your finger over the small spaces still missing some hair. His eyes close for just a moment and he leans into your touch. 

He’s so close you can feel his breath fan across your face and it would be so perfect if he just-

“You wouldn’t happen to have Andy in your bag by chance?” 

It takes you a moment to register what he’s said instead of kissing you. 

“What? I mean yes…um ya I do. Why?” Sounding more flustered than you want as he places his hands on your shoulders and slowly turns you around. 

You stifle a gasp as you see a man across the pond getting down on one knee and the camera is out of your bag before you can blink. 

You can see the woman as she covers her mouth in shock. Her excited squeals echoing over the water and it couldn’t be a more perfect backdrop. 

Frankie’s hands haven’t left you as his thumbs rub circles on your shoulder and he steals peaks of the photos when you take a moment to make sure the shots are just right. Adjusting the zoom on a few and grateful you don’t need the flash with just enough natural light left over.

Frankie watches you work and he’s just in awe of how you can capture the moment so well. You’re quiet and methodical in your approach and the juxtaposition of you moments ago makes his head spin. It’s like when he’s flying and everything else just shuts off around him and he can only focus on the controls and the shifts. 

He watches as the couple embraces and for the first time he thinks that’s something he wants. He’d spent so much time with his ex and that thought never once crossed his mind. 

“We should head over before they leave so I can show them.” It’s all rushed out in a hurry as you grab his hand and pull him along the path. 

He can’t help but laugh at your pure joy as you turn to look at him over your shoulder. 

He hangs back a little as you show the couple the photos. Your hands animatedly flailing to match the woman’s as she jumps up and down. The man looks over to him briefly and Frankie flashes him a thumbs up in congratulations. A man not much younger than him and he has his whole life to look forward to with this woman. 

****

“Oh my god, she thought he hired me.” Your voice comes out louder than you expected. As he glances over to you in the passenger seat looking through the photos. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

He clears his throat but keeps his eyes on the road. “I love watching you work.” 

“It doesn’t feel like work for moments like that.” 

“Hmm…ya I know what you mean.” 

His free hand resting on your thigh, you don’t think he’s gone the entire night without touching you and you don’t mind at all. He’s so grounding in a way you’ve never experienced before. 

The soft glow of the street lights are filtering in through the window as he pulls into your parking lot. That familiar tension is starting to settle into your chest at the thought of saying goodbye or at the prospect of Frankie being disappointed that you’re not quite ready for that next step. 

Frankie notices you’ve gone quiet in the seat next to him as he puts the truck in park. “Everything okay hermosa?” Suddenly feeling a little apprehensive. 

“Oh ya it’s fine…everything is fine.” He could tell by your tone it was most certainly not and he was starting to wonder if he’d done something to make you uncomfortable. 

He turns towards you, his hand resting on the seat next to you now. “I had a really great time tonight.” Frankie says, his voice steady and sincere. 

Your cheeks grow hot as you avoid his intense gaze. “Me too. It’s been…really nice.”

There’s a brief pause and you can feel that unspoken question lingering in the air. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your dress trying to gauge his reaction. “So,um, would you like to come up for coffee or something?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly. 

Frankie’s expression softened as the realization set in. “You don’t have to invite me up if you’re not ready. I want you to feel comfortable.” He takes your hand again forcing you to meet his deep brown eyes. “Just because we had a great dinner doesn’t mean you owe me anything. Or anyone for that matter.”

You exhale a sigh of relief. “Are you sure? Frankie…I really like you, but it feels too soon.” You turn to look away but he gently grabs your chin. 

“Of course I’m sure. We can take things at your pace.” 

Your pace

His eyes flit to your lips briefly as he retreats his hand. You stop him and grab his wrist hoping you didn’t send the wrong message. Your heart flutters as he leans in and you meet him halfway. Your lips meet in a tender kiss. You could taste the sweet remnants of dessert and the warmth of his breath. It’s intoxicating as his hands drift to your waist and despite the awkward angle you find yourself impossibly closer to him. 

Frankie has never felt like this before. Your hands drift to his hair and a deep growl erupts from his chest and he’s starting to question what your pace is as the kiss starts to get intense. It’s one of those kisses that has him questioning every one that came before you. 

You break apart for a second and rest your forehead on his trying to catch your breath. You had to remind yourself for what felt like the hundredth time, that you needed to be patient.

“How about I walk you upstairs? Just to make sure you get there safely.” 

All you can manage is a nod. “That would be nice. Thank you.” 

You both exited the car in silence. Your fingers brushing occasionally, sending small sparks through you. When you finally make it to your door he turns you to face him. His hands around the back of your neck as he leans in for one more kiss. This one much softer as the last still lingers on your lips. 

“Tonight was really special.” His voice full of gratitude. 

“Thank you Frankie.” You whisper against his lips, unable to pull away. “I had a great time.”

“Me too.” He says pulling back slightly, but keeping his hands on you. “I’ll call you soon okay?” 

If he doesn’t leave now he probably never will.

“Okay.” You laugh breathlessly as you wipe the evidence of lipstick from his face.

You have to let him go or you’ll end up eating your words and inviting him in. He’s backing away slowly as you turn to open your door. You can feel him watching you as you close the door behind you and lean against it, finally letting the breath out of your lungs. 

You can feel your phone buzzing in your purse. 

Glancing down to see Frankie’s name light up on the screen. 

“Have you even left the parking lot?” You hear his heavy breathing and a huff of laughter. 

“I told you I'd call you soon.” He teased as the sound of his truck door closing echoes in your ear. 

“A man of his word.” You reply as you walk through your apartment stripping yourself of your shoes and untying your dress. 

“So…what are you doing?” A hint of mischief in his voice. 

“Frankie.” 

“I’m just kidding.” He pauses briefly as you hear the truck roar to life wishing you were still sitting passenger. “If you’re free this Friday-“

“I am!” You hold the phone away cursing under your breath for sounding so eager. 

“Good, it’s a date.” 

You hang up and take in your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your lips stained a pretty hue of pink now that the red has been kissed off. Your fingers brush them slightly and you know that Francisco Morales has your heart in his hands. 

Hopefully for your sake he treats it with care. 

Prev/Next

Taglist- @sawymredfox @morallyinept @ak-vintage @romanarose @avastrasposts

@lizzie-cakes @yopossum @sirendyes

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[pep-rambles]

Lucifer is a Swiftie headcanons because I kin this man so much I am projecting my other hyperfixations on him

But also I mean c'mon,

Look at him

yes there is RadioApple in this

-It probably started from Charlie. When she was in high school (post emo phase obviously) she may have enjoyed Taylor Swift (maybe Fearless got her through her senior year because I can't stop projecting) Lucifer started listening to try and have something to bond with his daughter about. But about the time Charlie kind of lost interest is about the time Lucifer doubled down on his obsession.

-He has been to basically almost every Eras concert, usually in really good seats because many a swiftie has offered to sell their soul for tickets. He said keep your soul just let him tag along.

-He is definitely an Evermore stan mostly because of relating too hard to the divorce narrative of it.

-Speaking of, Charlie has threatened to lock him out of his Spotify after catching him on the floor crying to “Champaign Problems” on repeat too many times. She never would but most definitely tried to ban him from listening to it for a month.

-She then caught him crying to “You’re Loosing Me”

-Angel Dust is most definitely  Beyhive (killer bee probably) and though initially joking that they are rivals the two men bond over their love for the two queens of pop, recommending songs and videos to each other.

-Angel is a Reputation Stan though 

-After one of Lucifer’s many tiffs with Alastor,  Charlie is expressing her frustration asking her dad why can’t they just get along and Lucifer explains that he doesn’t trust Alastor because “I think his ever-present grin is a little troubling” and is a little upset when she doesn’t get it 

-One day, Luci is sitting in the Lobby doing his work while listening to Taylor on shuffle. He’s casually minding his own business jamming out to one of her poppier love songs and Alastor wanders in commenting on the “Obnoxious trite little diddy” Lucifer doesn't even hesitate to take the bait

L: HOW DARE YOU! SHE IS A TALENTED GODDESS!! A DOWNRIGHT MUSICAL CHAMELEON! You are such a snob Alastor! Good music didn't stop getting made after your tiny little lifetime.

A: I never said it did but it's certainly not this frivolous noise!

L: Oh, you uninformed uncultured cur! She is a fucking poet!

He then proceeds to play examples for Alastor of her most creative and heart wrenching lyrics (he absolutely makes Al sit through all 10 minutes and 13 seconds of ATW) 

After all that though Lucifer will never get Alastor to admit that he finds T.S. musically talented (or that Lucifer did in fact catch Al tapping his foot a couple times)

        -Alastor does come to Lucifer, after a bit of research, admitting that though he does not find her music enjoyable, he respects her business cunning. Luci figures that's good enough. For now. 

-because I bet my non-existent Eras tour tickets that Lilith was a hater. I’ll leave it at that.

-OP works at Barnes & Noble and let me tell you there are about 80 different Taylor Swift magazines that even my swiftie ass thinks is excessive but Lucifer has every single one

-including the Taylor Swift paper dolls magazine (yes this is a real thing). He probably gets a few because he convinces Charlie to use them as a team building activity.

-He has at least 3 copies of each of the covers for the 2023 TIME Person of the Year magazine. 

-Also all cardigans. On a casual day he definitely lounges in them and has a set rotation of when to wear each one (and I am totally not gonna draw that nope)

-Well, it seems Lucifer is no longer crying to the depressing break-up songs on repeat but now he seems to be angrily listening to “Gorgeous” on repeat. Charlie asks him about it and he goes full denial mode “No no Charlie I'm not thinking of anyone specific, I've just been really into this song lately.” Everyone else in the hotel, besides Alastor, has already figured out what's going on

Alastor: If I have to hear that obnoxious noise one more time I will reduce that tiny maniac’s room to rubble as well as the abode of whatever sad sack is making him play it.

Angel: *knowing smirk* I'm gonna hold ya to that one, Antlers. 

-Al may very well hear it one more time if Lucifer uses it as his confession song (I don't fully commit to this headcanon, I just think it's funny) 

-Anyway boy’s probably in his Reputation stan Era b/c LWYMMD is like his long overdue big F-YOU to Heaven song 

btw this is NOT gonna end at these headcanons I am running with this idea like scissors.

@nunalastor

@julsiemagne

@nose-nippin-fun (I know you're not a swiftie but we talked about this so idk if you care I can un-tag you if you want)

[rip-quizilla]

Polyjamourous

Eddie x GN!Reader

Description: You get a job at the record store, where you terrorize Eddie with so many different genres of music that he gets whiplash, but your energy is adorable so he's instantly soft for you.

Tags: big grumpy/sunshine trope here, fluff, workplace relationship (kind of), outgoing!reader, Hannah putting her liked songs on shuffle and using them here shamelessly, no physical description of reader other than hinting that they have a glorious gyatt that Eddie can't help but stare at.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: I didn't coin the term "polyjamourous"! I saw it in a TikTok by Viktor Fellbrink. Does it describe me perfectly though? Absolutely.

🎧🎧🎧

When Eddie had interviewed you for a job at the record store downtown, one of the first questions he’d asked was about your taste in music. Your response had caught him so off guard that he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m polyjamourous.” you’d said. 

Eddie had blinked a couple of times, a snorted laugh jumping from his throat. “Polyjamorous…” he’d repeated, an amused grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. “That’s one I have not heard before.”

You had shrugged, smiling the same way you’d been smiling throughout the entire interview. “I listen to a little bit of everything, I like pretty much all music.” 

What Eddie had expected from that was mostly pop, maybe a classic rock hit here and there. Judging by the ripped jeans and Doc Martens you were wearing the day of your interview, he suspected there may have been an emo/alt rock phase in your history so maybe some Paramore or MCR. 

What he hadn’t been expecting was the fact that when you said you liked all music, you meant all music. 

A month into working with you, and he already dreaded the days that you’d signed your name on the list entitled “Aux Cord Dibs” that sat on a tattered clipboard under the counter. The first hour of your shuffled liked songs on Spotify, and Eddie already had whiplash. 

The songs that played (in order) were:

Satisfied- The Broadway Cast of Hamilton

Raise Hell- Brandi Carlile

The Offering- Sleep Token

Magical- Ed Sheeran

Dream a Little Dream of Me- Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Just to name a few.

Not only were you completely unashamed that the first song to pop up under your aux cord time was a fucking show tune, but you knew every word. You sang, rapped- acted- every word. 

Eddie was now absolutely sure that you had had an emo phase, because this meant you were also a theater kid (same as him, but he wasn’t about to admit that to you) and in Eddie’s experience, most theater kids were also emo kids in some way, shape, or form.

“How much coffee did you drink this morning?” he’d muttered once you’d finished your one-woman show whilst shelving new records. 

“No coffee, this is all natural.” You’d said that with a grin so wide, it was obvious to him that you knew how obnoxious that sounded and you were taking it in stride. 

“You’re just the Energizer bunny… naturally?” 

Somehow, you grinned wider. “Yes!”

You can imagine how terrified Eddie was when you pulled a Celcius out of your bag an hour later. What happens when you give an energy drink to a person with natural energy?

You get impromptu dance breaks. 

Eddie had been boxing up an online order when out of the corner of his eye, he saw your oversized sweatered form bouncing around between aisles to the beat of whatever K-Pop bullshit was currently assaulting his speakers. 

Wordlessly, his eyes drifted to the monitor displaying the security camera feed where he found a full view of your hopping, stepping, and jumping to the bouncy rhythm of a Korean song with random English words sprinkled in. The grainy feed from the camera even picked up the subtle motion of your lips moving, and Eddie’s lips couldn’t help but twist into an amused little smile when he realized that must mean you were even trying to lip sync to the words, and he might be wrong but he was pretty sure you didn’t speak Korean.

His shoulders shook, silently chuckling at your antics until the music slowed down in tempo. Your hips began to move in slow, pronounced circles, sending the rest of your body rolling with the momentum. Eddie knew you didn’t mean to turn him on with the way your hips were moving… but you had an ass that shook when you walked, much less when you were actually wiggling your hips around. It wasn’t a you problem that was making Eddie’s eyes bug out of his skull and glue themselves to the screen; it was definitely an Eddie problem.

He had to keep it professional; Eddie was a shift manager, and while he wasn’t technically your boss, that was a gray area delicate enough that he didn’t plan on rushing into anything risky. The last thing he should be doing was ogling you on the security camera like a fucking creep. So, he made a point to pay attention to literally anything else whenever you started dancing around the store like some sort of coked-up cheerleader.

After a few shifts with Eddie, you started to notice that he was pointedly ignoring your antics- which made forcing him to pay attention all the more entertaining. The job could be boring on slow days, so this was how you entertained yourself- annoying the shit out of Eddie Munson.

Eddie: “If I hear one more show tune, I’m commandeering the aux cord.”

You: Proceeds to belt all three parts of Sincerely Me from Dear Evan Hansen, complete with choreography.

Eddie: “Is there any metal on this playlist? Just one song? I need a breather…”

You: Introduces Eddie to Babymetal.

One day, you even forced Eddie to suffer through Lizzo. That was funny as all hell, if you’d ever seen it. 

“I feel like I’m walking through a Forever 21.” He’d grumbled as you cheekily shimmied your shoulders at him and mimed a toss of your hair for good measure. 

“First of all,” you laughed, “I’m impressed you know what Forever 21 is.”

“I have been to a mall, you know.”

“Second,” you continued, “You’re starting to come off as a bit of a music elitist.”

Eddie shook his head, shelving new records from the stack of crates on the floor. “It isn’t a crime to know what I like and don’t like, kid.”

You smirked, reaching wordlessly over to the media center behind the counter and turning up the music. It was empty in the store save for you and Eddie, so the change in volume wouldn’t hurt anyone. Lizzo’s Like a Girl rang out through the speakers, and you made a show of losing yourself to the beat just to spite the metalhead before you. 

Eddie sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if God himself could save him from this torment; he couldn’t stop the whisper of a smile from creeping into the corners of his lips. “What did I do to deserve this shit?” he groaned.

Your grin was blazing, infectious in the way you wore it with reckless abandon as you danced from shelf to shelf with one of the crates of records. When the crate was empty, each album carefully nestled in its appropriate place, you set the crate down on the floor right as the chorus started and your hips shook in time with the drop of the beat. 

Eddie had been looking out the corner of his eye the whole time, but averted his gaze immediately once you were shaking your ass in the air. Unbeknownst to you, he was doing everything in his power not to stare.

Bouncing as you perked back up, you flashed him a sadistic grin and shrugged. “You just make it so much fun to torture you, sorry.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, “That was the emptiest apology I’ve ever heard.” To which you laughed and heartily agreed, launching your whole self into shaking all you had to the beat, even going so far as to plant your foot on the edge of the counter. 

You looked more silly than sexy, even Eddie could admit that, but it was your reckless abandon and giant fucking smile that made him break in that moment. You were shaking your ass- was that twerking? Eddie didn’t think it was twerking, but then again, he wasn’t an expert- and singing along to the music with so much energy that Eddie’s smile finally won his face over. He nodded his head to the beat, even shimmied his shoulders a little, and watched you make an adorable fool of yourself. 

That was when the door opened, sending a chime through the shop as a very confused Steve and Robin walked through the door just in time to see you shaking your ass in their direction. 

As far as you knew, these two were customers, so you swiftly tore your foot from the counter and started to apologize before Steve cut you off with a lopsided grin and a midair brush of his hand. 

“Please don’t apologize, because that might be the best first impression you could’ve made on me.” He confidently strode forward, already extending a hand which you happily accepted. Steve had a way of putting people at ease, Eddie had noticed, even if they had been the opposite of “at ease” before he’d entered the scene. 

He watched straight-faced as Steve struck up a conversation with you about being friends with Eddie and stopping by to say hello, then proceeded to introduce himself and ask you about yourself with the confidence and coolness that came so easily to people like Steve Harrington. Eddie chewed his lip and felt an unwelcome flare of jealousy in his stomach when you gave Steve the same smile that- up until now- you’d been giving him. 

 “So that’s the new hire you told us about?” Robin asked, voice low enough that only Eddie could hear.

He nodded, eyes trained on Steve as he said some joke that made you laugh. “Yeeeeeuup.” Eddie drew out the word, lacing passive aggression into every extra syllable. 

“I see.” Robin looked at Eddie, arching an eyebrow as she wordlessly assessed him, then slowly looked at you and smiled knowingly. “Well, if you’re gonna make a move, better beat Steve to it.”

Eddie sighed and shook his head, murmuring out the corner of his mouth “Stay. Out of it.”  before picking up his crate of records and moving to a different shelf. You were out of sight, but your and Steve’s voices still carried to where he worked. 

“...a little bit of everything.” Eddie heard you say, picking up on your conversation as he silently shelved new inventory. “What kind of music do you listen to?”

“Nothing in particular, I just jam to whatever’s on the radio.” Already inwardly cringing at how Steve must be shrugging or tossing his hair or some shit, Eddie eavesdropped inconspicuously. “Compared to a seasoned listener like yourself, I must sound like an idiot. You should make a playlist for me, so I can know what an expert would recommend.” 

“Expert?” you snorted, “Oh I’m hardly an expert. Half of what I listen to is garbage, but it’s fun garbage so I’m not ashamed. Eddie’s the expert.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if you knew he was nearby enough to hear you, but he wasn’t about to miss out on whatever you were about to say about him, so he remained silent and out of sight. 

Harrington scoffed. “Expert on metal, sure, but unless you’re into headbanging and screaming, I think he’d be pretty lost-”

“Not true.” you interjected. “He likes some classic rock, a bit of old school jazz- you know I played a song by Bob Dylan one day, and he started rattling off all these facts about the guy?” 

Eddie remembered that day. He’d almost told you that he knew all those facts because his mom had loved Bob Dylan, but he thought talking about his dead mom might be a little more personal than you were prepared to get with him so early into knowing him. 

“When Eddie hears music he thinks is good, it doesn’t matter what genre it is- he respects it whether it’s his taste or not.” Eddie had long since stopped shelving; he stood stock still, listening with wide eyes as you spoke with more admiration in your voice than Eddie had ever expected to belong to him. “I play a crazy wide range of music when I work with him, and every time a song I really love comes on it’s hard for me to not focus on how he’s reacting to it. It’s like every time, I’m in my head like- will he like this one?”

Steve was quiet for a moment before Eddie heard him reply, “Sounds like you’re hoping you’ll impress him.” 

Eddie felt his heart start beating a little faster. Were you?

You giggled a little, and for a moment Eddie’s heart fell when he thought you were laughing at the very insinuation that you might want to impress him.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” he heard  you say. “I haven’t known Eddie long, but I’ve always thought he’s an impressive person. It’s hard not to want to impress him back.”

Eddie couldn’t suppress his smile even if he’d wanted to. Sneaking around the shelves where you couldn’t see him, he turned a corner to continue his work as he hummed to himself.

After you’d locked the doors at 8, the two of you were closing down the shop alone as your playlist quietly painted the quiet evening air. You were walking through the store doing your final check while Eddie took inventory, and Eddie had been silently nodding his head to the beat of the music as you came into view of the checkout counter.

“What song is this?”

Your eyes widened, and the eagerness in your gaze made Eddie’s heart just about burst. 

“Uh, it’s Chicken by Your Neighbors.” you stuttered, “You like it?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, softly, “it’s good.”

There was that blinding grin again, contagious in how it fed his until it doubled in size. “Yeah, it is.” 

A pause settled between the two of you, song lyrics potent in the evening’s silence. 

You ain’t got no time to wait

You don’t get what you don’t ask for

“Hey, uhh…” Eddie was quick to grab your attention, and you watched him wide-eyed and expectant. “...feel like getting pizza after this? Surfer Boy doesn’t close ‘til midnight, and I was gonna stop by to see my buddy Argyle after closing anyway, so-”

“Yes!” you agreed, a little more eagerly than you had originally intended to come across. You cleared your throat, “I mean, if it’s no trouble-”

“No trouble at all, it's just down the street, I’ll walk with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were both grinning like idiots, but neither of you seemed to care. You continued your closing duties, both of you nodding your heads to the beat of the music and enjoying the feelings that, though unspoken and undefined, were currently nestling comfortably into your chest and his. 

Taglist: (really just people I have been talking about this to, I hope you like it❤️) @the-unforgivenn, @vintagehellfire, @munson-blurbs, @hellfire--cult, @word-wytch

[firesnap]

i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

[togrowoldinv]

Your Song

Rockstars!WandaNat x Female Reader

The best selling duo, The Scarlet Widow, goes on tour. You’re the manager who watches on and cheers for your women

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, fingering (W and N receiving) oral (W and N receiving), thigh riding, slight mommy and daddy kink, backstage sex

Note: The rockstars are backkk. The Scarlet Widow is another edition of these ladies. Enjoy this one!

WandaNat Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Tonight is opening night. The Scarlet Widow is finally touring again. The two women had taken a few months off to write new music and formulate the perfect set list.

And during that time, the three of you have become quite acquainted with each other. You spend a lot of your evenings with the women.

It’s suffice to say that the three of you are in love. You never imagined it could or would happen this way, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Before the show, Wanda and Natasha took some time alone to mentally prepare for their set. They may fight a lot backstage, but they take their show seriously.

And it sells. The arena is sold out tonight.

The two women electrify the stage as you watch them from the side. When it comes time for the acoustic part of the show, you prepare yourself for the inevitable argument of whose song got to be sung tonight.

They still hadn’t decided as of this morning. Together or nothing, they had said, but no conclusion had been made.

Natasha sits on a stool, her guitar in hand, and smiles out at the crowd. Wanda makes her way to the seat next to her.

“So, this is part of the show where we wanted to slow things down a bit,” Natasha begins. The crowd cheers. “We had a really hard time deciding what to sing for you all tonight.”

“Yes,” Wanda agrees. “There were many fights and late nights.”

She throws you a wink from on stage and you feel yourself heat up.

“Exactly, baby. But we did end up making a decision,” Natasha says. “We wrote a new song.”

At her words, the crowd erupts. You knew they had new music written, but it wasn’t in the plan to sing it tonight. Or so you thought.

“This one is dedicated to a very special woman in our lives. Someone who came in and changed everything,” Wanda explains. “This is called Forever Loving You.”

Both women glance over at you as they begin to play the song. They had written it about you. Tears form in your eyes as you listen to the words.

By the end of the song, the crowd loves the new music and it’s trending on Twitter. The women sing their final three songs before saying goodbye to the crowd.

Wanda comes up to you first, smiling so wide.

“What did you think?” She asks. Not giving you time to answer, she pulls you in for a long kiss.

Nat appears when Wanda’s pulled away. She kisses you too.

“That was the sweetest song,” you tell them.

“Well, you are our sweet girl,” Nat says.

You hug them both at once. They grin at your affection as they pull you backstage with them.

Back in their dressing room, Wanda takes off her shirt. Her sweat is glistening over her braless chest.

“How did it feel?” You ask.

“Like we’re back,” Wanda answers. “We’re back, baby!”

“We are indeed back!” Natasha says, scooping her wife up into a hug.

“I missed this energy after a show,” Wanda says.

“Me too,” Nat agrees.

The two women kiss each other deeply. You watch on as they celebrate this accomplishment together.

Nat’s hands wander over Wanda’s body, landing on her exposed breasts. She moves her hands over the breasts as her fingers flick over her nipples.

Wanda gasps into the kiss. She puts one hand in Nat’s waistband and the other beckons you to join them.

“Great idea, Wands. Come here, sweetheart,” Natasha says.

You approach the tangle of limbs. Wanting to see more of her, you slip your hands under Natasha’s shirt and pull it over her head.

Her lacy bra is quick to join the shirt on the ground. Wanda takes one nipple in her mouth as you take the other. Natasha loves when the two of you do this.

“Fuck,” she groans. “My good girls.”

Wanda’s hand in Nat’s pants moves over her folds. You unbutton her pants and pull them down her legs. Already kneeling, you remain there and take off Wanda’s pants as well.

“Oh,” Wanda moans softly as she feels her wetness exposed in the cold air. “Fuck me.”

“You both did so well tonight I think I’ll fuck you both,” you say.

You’ve gotten more confident in taking charge around the women.

“I like that plan,” Natasha says. Wanda’s fingers continue to move over her.

You use your mouth to work in tandem with her. Natasha lets out the most wonderful sounds as you move your tongue over her.

Your hand goes in the opposite direction and rubs over Wanda. You find her already wet and ready for you.

“I can take it,” Wanda mumbles between kisses with Nat. “Natty here stretched me out before the show.”

Her words make your own core ache. Of course that’s their pre show ritual.

“It’s a fact you sing better when you’re relaxed and the best way for you to relax is to take my cock, isn’t it?” Natasha asks her wife. Her tone is a bit condescending, only turning you both on more.

“Yes daddy,” Wanda answers. You slip your fingers inside of her. “Fuck.”

“Good job, baby. You take her so well,” Natasha encourages her.

You pick up your pace of your mouth on Natasha. Wanda does the same with her fingers. Soon, the woman is having to lean against her wife to remain standing.

“Come for us, Nat,” Wanda instructs her.

The woman shakes before her movements halt and pure pleasure takes over. She breathes heavily into Wanda’s neck.

You clean her up and she watches as you go directly from her pussy to Wanda’s. The taste of both women at once drives you crazy.

It drives them both crazy too. Wanda’s knees buckle as she approaches her high. Nat keeps her upright with her hands around her waist.

“Come for her, Wanda. Show me how you can come for her,” Natasha says.

Wanda’s moans become even more breathy as she comes against you. You do your best to clean her up before you stand up.

The two women take turns kissing you until your head is spinning.

“I think we owe our manager a good time too. Don’t you think, Nat? Anything she wants?” Wanda asks.

“I- um,” you stumble.

“Yeah, of course. She’s the reason we got this far after all,” Natasha says. “What would you like, y/n?”

“Oh.” They’ve never asked you before. They always just do something and it feels so good.

“Do you need some options, baby?” Wanda asks. She rubs your cheek with her fingers. The same ones that were inside Natasha just minutes ago.

“No, I- um-”

“Don’t be shy now, pretty girl. Tell us what you want,” Natasha says. She moves a hand over your arm.

“Can I- is it okay if I ride your thigh?” You ask. You’re looking at Natasha, so she correctly assumes you mean her.

“Come here,” she says, a grin on her face. She pulls you by the hand to the couch. Nat sits down all spread out for you, but Wanda keeps you standing up.

“We have to get you out of all these clothes,” Wanda says. You let her undress you while Natasha watches on with wide eyes. She loves to see her wife do this to you.

“Now, come join me,” Natasha says once you’re properly naked. She pulls you by your hips onto her lap. Your wetness is already evident as she slots her thigh between your legs.

“Were you thinking about this during the show?” Wanda asks you. “About riding my wife’s thigh?”

“Yes,” you moan out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy,” you correct yourself.

“Good girl,” Wanda appeases.

Natasha’s hands move your hips against her as your movements slow. She always wants you to come hard against her.

“So good, y/n. Wanda look how she moves against me,” Natasha says.

“I know. Such a perfect girl.”

Wanda grabs Natasha’s face and she kisses her lips fervently. Tongues mingle in front of you and you’re tipping over the edge in no time.

“Fuck Natasha,” you mumble.

“Yeah baby. Ride that high,” she says. Her hands don’t stop their movements, making you feel sensitive against her.

When she relents, you fall against her. The woman kisses your forehead and holds you close.

“What a night,” Wanda remarks, joining your snuggling with Natasha. She leans over and kisses your lips softly.

“We should probably write a song about it,” Natasha says, a smirk on her lips.

“I approve,” you say.

All of you share a smile as Natasha continues to hold you and Wanda close. Tonight was the first of many tour dates.

You can’t wait to see what’s next for The Scarlet Widow.

[appleinyoureye]

BSD │ Sweet Dreams to the One I Love

Summary: how they cuddle you to sleep! (and if they're a pain in the ass in the actual act of sleeping)

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Characters: Atsushi Nakajima, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Ranpo Edogawa, Tanizaki Junichiro, Akiko Yosano

Word Count: 702

Type: headcanons

Atsushi

Since he’s never received any good forms of physical contact, at first he’s a bit scared. So frightened that he almost falls down from bed, because he’s afraid to be close to you. You need to introduce him to this type of feeling, slowly assure him that you’re not here to hurt him. Even if you’re really close on a daily basis, Atsushi’s still hesitant, since during sleep he’s completely vulnerable. But after a few nights together, he’s the most cuddly person on the whole planet. Big spoon, loves to hug you from behind and has that strong ass dead grip, not letting you go anywhere. He’s never slept so calmly before, and he doesn’t plan on losing it.

Dazai

Dazai likes to cuddle before sleep. He rubs your back, arms, plays with your hair and loves to pepper your skin with tiny kisses. He also wants all of this in return. However, once you say the final “goodnight”, everything changes. This little bitch turns around so that you’re facing his back, gripping the duvet as hard as he can. You can be sure that he steals most of it to himself, and that there’s no way of taking it back, because after only a few seconds you can hear him snore (you also know that he’s only pretending, but there’s nothing you can do about it). Hug him from behind and hope that the night will be a warm one, because you’ll be completely fucked otherwise. 

Kunikida

He’s not a big fan of cuddling. Little gears keep turning in his head, thoughts on a loop: “It would be kind of inappropriate. Would it be improper?” It’s not like he doesn’t mind it and it’s not like he doesn’t like it too. It’s just… confusing a bit. When you go to sleep though, he lays flat on his back, one arm stretched in your direction so that you can lay on it. Kunikida doesn’t even hug you fully with it, just the fact that it’s there should be enough. Oh, and he talks in his sleep. Like a lot. He babbles about his ideals interchangeably with scolding Dazai.

Ranpo

Ranpo wants you to cuddle him if that makes sense. He wants to be pampered, so scratch his back, stroke his arms and play with his hair. His head is full of ideas so he needs something different to focus on to fall asleep, and the way you rub his skin helps him just perfectly. But be prepared that as much as you may love this guy, you’ll hate him during the night. He’s everywhere on the bed, spreaded like a cat on a hot summer day. One leg hanging from the side, the other on you, left hand high above his head, right, no matter how many times you smack it away, keeps slapping your face. It’s not an easy night but at least he doesn’t snore, right? …right?

Tanizaki

Weirdly enough, he looks like he’s the most normal of them all. He’s just a guy that wants to cuddle before sleeping with his loved one beside. He hugs you, talks about his day and asks about yours. Tanizaki listens to you very carefully, playing with your hair and stroking your leg with his. If you can’t fall asleep he even offers to hum you a song. He likes to be a big spoon and a small spoon, but his all time favorite position is on his back, your head on his chest, while he hugs you closer to his body.

Yosano

She likes to have you close. She will hug your arm close to her body, expecting that you’ll play with her hair as she tells you about stupid people she has had to deal with at work. After Yosano gets sleepy, she forces you to turn around, and big spoons you, her arms tightly closed around your body. Just as Atsushi’s big spooning feels as if you’re hugged by a koala, in Yosano’s case it feels as if being manhandled by a gorilla. Her grip is so strong you can forget about going to the toilet in the middle of the night – she doesn’t plan on letting you go before the first rays of sun enter your bedroom.