#because a lot happened in the dream afterwards

[loustat-roleplay]

So, I've been putting a lot of thought into the types of storylines that I have in mind for these two. Currently, the one I'd really like to explore more is... what exactly happens after the reunion in NOLA?

Does Lestat go with Louis to the hotel? Does Louis brave the hurricane with Lestat in his shack/home? How long is it before Louis goes to Dubai? Is Lestat there? Just out of view?

There's so much to unpack.

Lestat is broken. Fragile. Weak. Louis is and will always be his strength.

There's an example of a starter I created as Lestat after this scene below. If you're interested in exploring this dynamic with me, my inbox is open.

Lestat swallowed hard as he kept his grip tight on Louis, part of him still afraid that this was all a dream – that the other would disappear and he’d awaken alone in his coffin as he did every night. He shifted his body as he heard the window breaking, shielding Louis with his back as glass flew at them. Not that it mattered. They were vampires, the cuts would heal quickly. However, something inside of him went into protective mode. He had always wanted to protect the man in his arms at all costs. “Louis,” he whispered, eyes closing as his grip tightened even more. Just the sound of his ex-companion’s name on his lips brought him some amount of comfort, a comfort that he hadn’t felt in years. He could hear the wind much louder now, the walls of his home starting to sway. It would hold, this wasn’t the first storm his home had seen. Sure, there would be damage to clean up afterward, but there was always damage. Lestat had endured, no, lived in that home for years. He wasn’t accustomed to modern life; it was a luxury that he had cut himself off from. It was a luxury that he didn’t deserve. Claudia was dead because of him, and she haunted him every day. How could he go on like it had never happened? How could he allow himself to eat, to experience pleasure, to live? His house was small, but it was all he needed, it was all he deserved. When the house started to shake, he forced himself to pull back, tears still streaming down his face as his eyes found Louis’s again. “It’s not safe for you here,” he told the other, shaking his head vehemently. “You should go before it gets worse. I – do you have shelter somewhere? Will you be safe?” He wrapped his arms around himself, unsure what to do with his hands now that they were no longer embracing. “You need to be safe.” Louis deserved to be safe. He needed Louis to be safe.

[dredshirtroberts]

hey. hey universe. hey fucker universe.

no one said you could bring back the Wednesday Curse, bitch. fuck off with this shit i didn't need any of this first thing today.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ mdni - more vacation - smut

Simon left the windows open last night.

He’s not sure what possessed him to take such a risk. The vacation flat may be on the third floor, picked for the view over the beach and shoreline, but the height is not something that would thwart someone with an objective. A mission to kill.

A person like him.

He supposes he left them open because he wanted to watch the thin cotton curtains wave in the breeze. He wanted to smell the salt and hear the birds. He wanted to memorize the sunrise’s painting across your bare skin, the broad strokes and dappled splotches of dawn that turn you into a living canvas, a work of art. The prettiest one he’s ever seen.

You’re hardly covered by the sheet, on your side, one arm above your head, the other stretched out towards his side of the bed. You slept like a dead woman last night, gone to the world, lightly snoring and tossing in the small hours. He stayed up for most of it, tracing the slope of your nose with his fingers, counting your spots, birthmarks, moles, the whole lot. You’re usually a light sleeper home, your subconscious skimming just under the surface, ready to wake you at a moment’s notice for the baby, an instinctive driving you to hover on the edge of deep sleep.

He says he’s not sure what possessed him to let the sun in so early this morning, but deep down, he’s aware of the farce.

He wants to catch it in the light. The small angular sapphire on a gold band, the one he slipped on your ring finger last night while you were lost in your dreams. It’s a simple thing. Unremarkable even. Unobtrusive, as it should be. It doesn’t call attention to its size, or you, or who may have put it there, but it sits so naturally, like it’s always belonged.

He slipped it on six hours ago and well, he’s tired of waiting for you to see it for the first time.

He pulls you into your body, little spoon to his big, and tugs the hand wearing his ring into his, carefully shifting your knee forward. You sigh.

“Simon?” He kisses your shoulder, your neck.

“Go back to sleep sweetheart.” The thick of your ass is plump at his hips, hard cock settled in the cleft between your cheeks.

“What’re you doin’?” You yawn, still not able to really open your eyes, and he nudges at your temple.

“Just a little cold mama, there’s a bit o’ a draft in here.” He traces down your slit, pleased to find you already wet, probably from when he played with you clit earlier this morning. He hefts up on his arm, lining up with you before slowly pushing his way inside your body. You’re wet and warm and perfect, and he groans into your neck, weaving his fingers between yours. His thumb strokes over the stone in your ring, cock still and sitting in your wet pussy. You moan.

“Ah-“

“Feel good?”

“So full.” Your lashes flutter. He kisses your cheek.

“Be good for daddy, sweetheart. Keep those eyes closed, stay nice and still. Keep me warm.” He’s savoring the moment, dragging it out, practically edging himself, waiting for the second you truly wake up and realize what he’s done, what’s happening.

You whine. He slaps your ass, lightly, enjoying how you jiggle and ripple afterwards. The sun tired you out yesterday, effects still lingering, and he rubs a soothing palm over the swell of your ass, shushing you. “My sweet girl, look’t you. Keepin’ my cock warm, hungry for it even in your dreams.” You whimper, clenching, and he starts to move, dragging in and out of your heat, holding you too tight to his chest. Your mouth hangs open in a permanent gasp, fingernails sinking into his thigh.

“Oh my god.” He directs your hand onto the pillow in front of your face, his fingers locked on yours. Another thrust, deeper this time, enough to make you squeak, and then he whispers in your ear.

“Open your eyes mama.” His heart is a sharp staccato, frantic snare drum rolling through his head. He waits, and waits, slowing the roll of hips until your brow furrows, confused at the stall of his pace.

The curtains wave, picked up by a breeze, and the sun skitters across the foot of the bed, slowly spreading up the mattress, over where he’s sunken deep inside you, to the pillow, your face, your hand.

The sapphire sparkles in the morning light.

A beat. Then two. The blood pounding in his ears-

“What… Simon… wait… did you-“ you’re babbling, confused, stunned, and he pulls away, almost completely, before bludgeoning back inside your pussy until there’s no room left, and your back arches.

“That’s a ring, sweetheart. My ring, on your pretty little finger.” He thrusts again, snapping into you with a snarl. The ring is clouding his vision, the clutch of your pussy trying to milk him deep into your womb. “My ring, my babies, my wife.” The plural slips, future plans laid bare, but he distracts you with teeth to your shoulder, playing with your clit, persistent, frenzied pressure screwing your face up until your eyes are clenched closed and he’s fucking you so hard his hips slap against your ass with a shuddering, satisfying sound.

“Daddy- fuck. ‘m gonna come,” you pant, spine curling, and he cups your jaw. He’ll never not be able to look you in the face now, he’ll always need to see you, watch you, drink in every expression like they’re his salvation.

Maybe they are.

“Good girl, there it is, come for me, come all my cock.” You choke, you cry, keening in his arms, sweet kitten turned feral, and he bands a forearm around your chest as he rocks in and out, faster and faster, meeting you blow for blow, release spilling from him and into you, a reaffirmation of the bond you’ll carry, he’ll carry, for the rest of your lives.

“This is crazy.” You’re holding your hand up, staring at the gem glistening against the backdrop of turquoise sea. “You’re insane. You know that right?” He barks a laugh, tugging you down onto the blanket.

“I do know.” There’s sand in your hair, sand littered across your collarbone, sand on your nose. He feels insane right now, sitting by your side, studying the ring he gave you, his ring on your hand.

Fuck. It makes his cock hard. Fills that ache in his chest, the ever present one that he’s had since the day he saw you on the sidewalk with his baby wrapped to your chest. Wild instinct that demands he possess every single inch, every breath.

You’re the moon. The silver light on the desert in the darkest hours of the night. The one gentling the primal deep of the darkest waters, pushing and pulling them in a rapturous tide.

He’s the sea. You’re the moon.

He glances around the beach. Finally. He overheard you and Cami giggling about skinny dipping the other day, and latched onto your admittance that you’ve never done it, but always wanted to try. “We’re alone.” You blink.

“Okay…”

“Want to skinny dip?” Your eyebrows raise, and he gives you a small half smile. There’s a little excitement in your eyes, balanced with caution.

“What if someone sees?”

“No one will.”

“But if they do… you’ll be okay with someone else seeing me naked?” His vision ebbs in red.

“No one will see us.” He doubles down, and you snicker.

“I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t… if someone saw you naked they’d probably call the zoo for an escaped anaconda sighting or something, they’d-“ He rolls to his feet, snatching you by your waist, walking towards the tide. You shriek. “Simon! Put me down!” With one hand, he rips your bottoms away and pulls his down simultaneously, before flipping you into the surf, careful to keep his hands on you even as you go under.

When you come up sputtering, you’re trying so damn hard not to laugh, affixing fake outrage on your face like a mask that won’t stay.

You’re so fucking cute.

He tugs the top free, and then you’re both standing naked, floating in the crystal cool water, rolling with the waves. Your feet leave the ground with each peak, and Simon swims after you when you’re on top of one, wrapping you up in his arms and turning on his back.

“I’ll drown you.” You protest, but don’t attempt to wrestle free.

“Mama you couldn’t drown me if you tried.” The two of you float there, toes to the sky in the sea, his hand on your waist, tethered, until your fingers are wrinkled and he's kissed each and every one.

[astroismypassion]

Any chance ucould do Eros in the signs and houses series pls???

Hi! I will try to answer in shortly, because there is not enough time for the whole post, but I’ll just go quickly through it, so that I give you an answer. 😊

Eros in signs

Aries Eros: Well, they just really like people that take charge, but they still end up controlling it? The Aries Eros native will still like to be in charge in some manner. Either by teasing you long enough, edging you or not allow you to touch them on certain body parts. They low key love delegating? 😂 Like “you do this here and I’ll do that there to you”? haha. They love “dividing” tasks in the bedroom. They might have this one unrealised dream of someone coming onto them passionately, kissing them and it turns out in a whole wild night that lets you wonder what the hell just happened last night. They have this one fantasy scenario of just being unhinged.

Taurus Eros: They are seduced by moans and someone talking, breathing onto their ears. Don’t underestimate the ears with this sign. You might not think that it’s Taurus, but it actually is. They love is someone nibbles, playfully licks their ear. I would say lots of kissing on the lips, but then again if it’s maybe aspected by Uranus, Saturn or at times even Neptune, they might not even be that keen. Not all Taurus placements love long, long make out sessions. Some don’t even like french kisses or kissing on the mouth that much. But they are often down for neck kissing. Even light biting or hickeys, but again it really depends on how cautious or reserved they feel.

Gemini Eros: They are seduced by people who keep them mentally stimulated or provide good ideas, but talk less then them. 😂 They often go for people who ask a lot of questions instead haha. They like to be the one providing answers and solutions to fixing partner’s inquiries and questions. But they are often aroused by the partner that occasionally talks back or behaves bratty.

Cancer Eros: Now this one is again, might be controversial. But they have this thing with left eye? They love if you plant a little baby kiss above or under or somewhere close to their eye. It’s like a protective gesture. They are usually heavy breathers when aroused. You might feel like their breathing becomes deeper, almost like they are in a deeper state of relaxation.

Leo Eros: These are overall very confident people. Not just in sex, but their general disposition, personality, how they carry themselves. Even if they have quiet confidence and not loud, they come across even more self assured than an Aries. They just know what they want, how and when. They have a sultry look to them that they don’t even have to try hard at flirting or seducing someone, because they already are so charming. These people actually compliment YOU a lot when they want to sleep with you and they do not need so many compliments for themselves actually.

Virgo Eros: They are just as complex as a Scorpio Eros. 🙈 These people might like everything, but nothing at the same time. They throw order out when having sex, they become chaotic. They are like “just throw it somewhere, we’ll clean afterwards”, they really don’t care when in the moment. Also, they get very easily overstimulated. They could be turned off by an unexpected or unpleasant smell. But having someone’s hands all over their body, touching them is actually the only time they do NOT feel anxious. These people are too often touch starved.

Libra Eros: Oh these people are just very proper and diplomatic, neutral, at times reserved and cautious. However, I noticed that they exhibit traits of the opposite sign, Aries, when in a partnership. So when in a romantic partnership, they become much more controlling in the bedroom. Wanting to really be pleased by the partner and vice versa, because what’s the point of being in a partnership then? They become very idealistic and demanding. They love if you try to seduce them and flirt with them, give them a lot of compliments. They need to feel desired in order to get aroused. They are also surprisingly cerebral, meaning they love smooth talkers, people who seduce them with words.

Scorpio Eros: You can imagine it’s no easy task to seduce them or arouse them. They are complex. They might have had some unpleasant experiences before which really affected them, so always proceed with care when dealing with them. They might have also stayed celibate, single for years. They are really self-sufficient, usually they know what they like, even when inexperienced. And that could secretly even prefer being pleasured by themselves rather than teaching and showing their partner what they like. Also, surprisingly, they like what it is tried and tested. They might not like too much variety and change, they could stick with that they like.

Sagittarius Eros: They love touching up on thighs, but is still a butt person. They get more aroused by people that are not around them daily and live at a distance. So they get weirdly flirty via messages. They might act more seductive online, via messages than when you are actually face to face with them.

Capricorn Eros: I would described these people as complex, yet simplistic. They might have a lower sexual stamina when younger. Then they might be more into monk mode😂 , not prioritising sex all that much, but more so they career, establishing themselves, building up finances and money. But after first Saturn Return, they usually become a beast. Like the type to love to have very consistent sex going on in the week. This is how you might expect Virgo to behave. Capricorn Eros enjoys daily sex or every 2-3 days if other duties and responsibilities prevent that. They become like bunnies in a partnership. Touching up on their partner often throughout the day. But generally, they are prone to more low sexual libido. Sometimes they really just prefer cuddling.

Aquarius Eros: They are either all in or all out. You can really know by how much they are into you by how much they are touching you. If they are detached when touching you and not looking you in the eyes or almost avoid your look a bit, they might not be into you that much, might only like you a little bit. But if they are not touching you in a “detached” manner they probably feel consumed by you. They actually give a lot of attention when fixated on someone. They also really like familiarity in sex, when seducing someone. It helps them feel relaxed and seduced if you share the same dreams, interests, hopes and ideals for the future or have the same level of education. They really would only sleep with an all “equal” partner to them.

Pisces Eros: They love to feel needed or be the protector, it makes them aroused. They love if they could help you. The type to want to hug you, kiss you and hold you, if you just cried. They like to be “in charge” of your pleasure or knowing they were the one who gave you pleasure or made you feel okay.

Eros in houses

1st house: They really like if their partner checks in with them. Like “is this comfortable enough for you, are you okay?”. Hates inconsiderate partners.

2nd house: They dislike actual massages, like if someone massages their shoulders or back. But they do like sexual massages🙈. Big on oral, but like reciprocated, they dislike selfish partners. They might consider leaving you if they deem you too selfish or not generous enough.

3rd house: Loves a sexy teacher scenario. They love people who are able to improve them, teach, guide them, that are more reserved, stern, but that are also hot as hell. It’s interesting, because these people really are not that clean themselves, but really demand a lot from their partner in terms of cleanliness.

4th house: They love doing it in their own home or own bedroom, bed. Because they often do not feel uncomfortable in another person’s bed. They get more relaxed in their own. Surprisingly, they get really turned off if their person has untidy bedroom or bed. They really like fresh sheets, clean bed, nightstand, otherwise they tend to not feel the vibe.

5th house: These people move too quickly, when try to seduce someone, flirt with them. They need to slow down with introducing intimacy too early on or without knowing the person that well. Their interest goes when the most attention is. If you give them a lot of attention, they will give it to you back enough as well. They are actually much more strict with reciprocal energy than Libra to be honest. If you are not doing enough for them, they are out.

6th house: Ahh, their day at work affects their sex life. If they are stressed, burned out, had a bad day at work, feel not good enough. They won’t like being even touched. They get really low sexual desire when from bad day at work.

7th house: If they are seducing you, they are likely thinking about partnering up with you. They don’t flirt outside of partnership. They like to give special attention only to their partner.

8th house: Has harder time with boundaries. They demand complete loyalty before interacting with you. They really go for enigmatic odd people, but fit people. They like partners who take care of themselves. If you have lousy self-care routine, better to stay away from them.

9th house: They will test you a lot with sliding in subtle jokes, so that they see how you’ll react if they are trying to seduce you, sleep with you. You will not know whether they are being serious or joking. But that’s the whole point! They are doing it only to gather your reaction, so that they know if they can proceed or not. This person will likely get with people out of their league or not want to get involved with someone all together, just because they are intimidated by them.

10th house: These people have high self-respect and they actually like more messy not so orderly people. They like even an occasional wild card. Someone who is unafraid to be themselves. They have high standards and often hang with friends and not get attached before they achieved and secured everything they wanted.

11th house: These people will always surprise with people they choose to seduce or get intimate with. Because the person they end up choosing is often the complete opposite of 11th house Eros native. If they are organised, the go for a chaotic partner that is more messy. But the thing with this placement is often yes, their partner is completely different then them, but shares the same dreams. Or the Eros in the 11th house sees their partner as someone who they try to become.

12th house: Loves getting on at night or late in the evening or right before bed or falling asleep. They get seduced by good night messages😂. They get more vulnerable at night. Also, maybe be more keen on idea of doing it if you watch a romantic movie or just watching something, relaxing and chilling. Also, they dislike if their partner falls asleep on them haha. “Oh you fell asleep, I thought we’re gonna have sexy time??”

[reiderwriter]

Pent Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer tries to comfort the newest team member through their nightmares, but the scene he walks in on is as far from a nightmare as you can get. It's practically a wet dream.

Warnings: Day 29 of Kinktober - masturbation, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, commands, slight BDSM themes, penetrative sex, reader is desperately horny, allusions to cheating/STDs, fingering, etc.

A/N: So close to the end now! Here's another kinktober original. You can find the rest of the months' works on AO3 under my account name (reiderwriter)! If you enjoy it, please leave a comment or reblog! It means a lot.

If you were to be asked what the worst part of a break-up was, you'd probably answer the months of sexual frustration afterwards.

It'd been weeks since you'd been able to itch that particular scratch, and you didn't know how much more you could take it. Having unceremoniously dumped your boyfriend three months prior (cheating bastard as he was), you'd found yourself swamped with work and unable to enjoy any two-person sexual pursuits.

Truth be told, you'd never really quite gotten the hang of pleasuring yourself either. Sure, you knew what you liked in bed, but your fingers weren't long enough to reach where your boyfriends had, and you grew easily tired of rubbing as the lonely hours of the night stretched out.

But with four months of pent-up frustration, you really were on the edge of losing it.

And it was all because of Doctor Spencer Reid.

Your boyfriend had gone around telling everyone who would listen that he was the reason you'd broken up anyway. He had said that he just felt too insecure in a relationship where you were off doing who knows what with your fellow FBI agent in various motels around the country. He left out that his insecurities seemed to disappear when he found himself in bed with one of his gym mates. Or his own coworker. Or his brother's girlfriend. Or one of the numerous other women you'd eventually traced back to him.

Needless to say, you'd wiped your hands of him and immediately ran to your OBGYN to make sure he didn't leave behind anything that lingered. And then you'd sat down and thought about the accusations.

Spencer.

He was attractive, smart, pretty funny at times, and weirdly cute at others. Your ex-boyfriend accusing you of sleeping with him was genuinely the first time that you'd thought about him in that way, though.

But now it was all you could think about. You woke up in the morning with the vague idea of his lips on your chest, tongue twisting and teasing your nipples slowly. You sat through the drive to work absent mindedly, wondering how long he'd last in bed. Meetings were the worse, where you stared at him blatantly and openly as he rambled through whatever new information he was giving out that day, wondering exactly what he'd taste like.

And then you took yourself home to your lonely apartment and tried to recreate those thoughts in your head as you rubbed yourself to release. It was a daily routine you were, for all intents and purposes, horrified by. Not that shame stopped you, though.

It was mid-week, and you'd spent the last three days stuck in a motel room after work, as you helped with your most recent case at the BAU. Three days of being in very close quarters with Spencer, who coincidentally happened to share a wall with you.

You'd tried your best to hold off and not touch yourself with so many of your coworkers around, but a little bit couldn't hurt, and with the clock on your bedside table reading somewhere between three and four am, it was a chance you were willing to take.

The sounds that Spencer could hear through the walls were so quiet at first that he almost missed them. If it wasn't the dead of night and if there had been other noises outside as well, he might have thought nothing of it and gone back to his book.

But the little gasps and moans sounded painful and worried him. Every new member of the team had nightmares at some point or the other, and he hadn't heard you mention them yet. Standing up from his chair, he placed his book face down on the small table and walked to the wall separating your rooms.

Putting his ear to the wall, he could hear everything much clearer. Your laboured breaths, the small moans, the sound of the sheets being tossed this way and that. It sounded bad. Pulling a jacket on, he stepped out of his room and knocked on your door.

You were only growing more frustrated with each flick of your wrist, head filled with images of Spencer over you, whispering in your ear as he stretched you out, or with his head between your legs as you grasped his hair, not willing to let him go.

You were so close to your release that you didn't even register the calls from the other side of the door. You didn't hear Spencer trying the door handle either after hearing a particularly loud groan from inside.

It's not until he's opening the door and calling out to you that you realise that you've been caught.

“Y/N, you need to wake up. You're having a n- oh my god.”

“Spencer!” Throwing the bed sheets back over your naked body, you scramble up the bed as he stops in his tracks, the door having swung closed behind him.

“You didn't lock your door.” He said, trying to maintain eye contact but failing dramatically as his eyes fell. First to your chest, then lower to where your fingers still sat between your thighs under the covers.

“I didn't think anyone was going to walk in.”

“Evidently. I wasn't supposed to see that.”

“No one is supposed to see that, Spencer,” you sighed, letting your head flop down against your pillow again as your hands came up to your face in embarrassment.

“I'm sure your boyfriend would disagree.”

“What boyfriend, Spencer?” You looked him in the eye again then, surprised to see that he'd relaxed slightly. He was a few steps further into the room, hands resting casually in a crossed position against his chest as he leaned against the wall.

“I'm sorry, I didn't realise-”

“That I got cheated on? Don't sweat it, I wasn't exactly broadcasting it at the office.” The corners of his lips turned down in a frown as his eyebrows knitted slightly together.

“If you…if you ever need to talk, I'm Bere. You know, good listener.” You're not sure what it is that makes you say it, bit the words are out of your mouth before you have the common sense to stop them.

“I don't need to talk, Spencer, I need to get railed.” In some sort of divine punishment, your tongue ties as soon as the final word leaves your lips, leaving you sat wondering why the hell you would say that.

Silence fills the room as you sit waiting for a reply until you look up to find Spencer trying his hardest to control his expressions. He can't hide the flush creeping up his neck, though, or the stiffness in his movements.

“It seems you were doing fine by yourself.” You let yourself relax slightly into the conversation as he lets his gaze fall further and further down your body.

“It’s not the same. It’s not the same as when someone else is doing it, is what I mean.”

“Well, how were you doing it? Maybe there’s something else you can be doing to help?”

Gently, he lowers himself to the edge of your bed, slowly running a hand up the sheets as you stare at him, eager to see where he takes this new line of movement.

You hold on to them still, keeping yourself covered, until his eyes meet yours once again.

“Show me.” The demand is simple, but you find yourself utterly compelled. The sheets gently fall away as you suddenly sit bare in front of the man, legs spread wide as you anticipate his next move.

“I said show me. You need to touch yourself.” Your mouth dropped open in protest but you can see already that he's not listening, eyes entirely focused on your pussy.

You decide against protesting, and with a deep breath you let your hand fall back down between your legs, taking its place on your clit and beginning the slow strokes from earlier.

His gaze is curious, looking like he would on any other tough case as you bite your lip to avoid moaning out.

“Your touch is pretty light, put some more pressure on your clit.” Your body is suddenly obedient and listens to him more than it listens to your conscience and suddenly you’re gasping and moaning again as your wrist works up and down.

“You have two hands, right? Try touching your breasts as well. Your nipples look a little neglected right now.” You listen again, and you’re surprised at how right he is.

You’re sure that with just his instructions, you’d shortly find yourself reaching a climax almost as satisfying as any you’d had with your ex, and he hadn’t even touched you.

You're so lost in your own pleasure, that you don't notice that he's palming himself through his own pants until you hear him hiss through his teeth.

“Spencer, you can deal with that here, too.” For a second, you assume him to bolt, the expression on his face betraying his discomfort at being caught. But he doesn't.

Instead, you watch him unzip his pants and pull out his hot, thick cock, staring slack jawed as your hands keep working over your own body.

“Fuck you’re so big.” You gasp as your eyes train themselves on the small drops of precum glistening on the tip of hs cock as he finally relieves some of the tension in his body.

Watching him distracts you from your own climax, suddenly curious about every noise he makes, every look on his face, the need rolling off of him.

“Why did you stop?”

You don’t bother answering his question, not even looking up from his cock as he stops stroking himself, wondering if he’d messed this delicate situation up by pulling his cock out.

“Please let me sit on it.” You whimper out, surprising even yourself with your whines.

“Are you sure?”

“Spencer, I’ve not had a dick inside me in months. Hell, I’ve not had one that size inside me ever. I want you to fuck me, please.”

He doesn’t need anymore convincing, suddenly pushing you back down and pushing his pants down further again.

“You can’t sit on it, but I will satiate your curiosity.” He pushes in suddenly, and you’re suddenly gasping at the stretch of it.

This is it. This is what you’ve been unable to do for yourself. This is what his hand feels like on you, how his cock feels pulsing inside of you. You’re discovering all these new sensations and suddenly you’re thoughts are empty.

Having both started yourself off, you feel like it takes only a few minutes of his very hot and intense thrusting, for the both of you to come undone.

He lets you cum on his cock, then quickly pulls himself off and rolls away to spend himself in your sheets.

You both sit there panting for a second, side by side, neither of you saying a word as you come down from your highs.

That is until you can stand the silence no longer and have to blurt it out.

“He thought I was cheating on him with you.”

“What? Who did?”

“My ex. He said he was only cheating back because he was sure you were fucking me while we were on cases.”

“... That might be my fault.” Your gaze snaps to him quickly, confused as he stares at you sheepishly.

“I think Morgan’s exact words to me were ‘stop staring at the newbie like she’s the porn magazine you found in the woods as a kid’ and they were swiftly followed by, ‘Morgan, Reid, meet my boyfriend.’”

He looks guilty, but you just laugh.

“You’re only as guilty as I am. I’m sure if you'd have caught any other member of the team in this situation…”

“Please don’t put that thought into my head.”

“All I’m saying is that Rossi definitely wouldn’t have let you stay or told you he needed rail-”

He cuts you off by pressing a kiss to your lips.

“That’s enough conversation for you, too.”

He pulls the sheets up and over the two of you again, and you’re content at the way his hands caress your skin as you do anything but rest up.

[levshany]

Tandem, this is an AU in which the Collector possesses Philip, and there are a lot of things happening afterwards. but now we’ll just retell how it basically started

@angstyhikka drew a couple of arts and helped me with coloring

This is an alternative development of events after the ending of the fanfic “At The Dawn of The Light” (it's not finished yet, but there is already an AU from the ending, yes). The idea belongs to @lasymit, and I (Lev) picked it up :3

Before King's Tide, all events take place according to canon. And then the following changes occur: the witches capture Philip and lock him in a cave in the Titan's skull. The draining spell is stopped without the help of the Collector, but he himself is not found. His mirror remains lying at the bottom of the pit.

For 10 years, Philip was under a sleeping spell. Everything would be fine, but when the Hexside squad wakes up Philip to make him help them with one super important problem, not only does he become mischievous but he also has problems in his head now. Luz and the team think that Philip is manipulating them (you can't blame them for this, Philip is Philip, even with a leaky memory and a leaking roof, he manages to be such an asshole), and therefore they torture him to force him to cooperate with them.

While Philip was sleeping, a cozy corner appeared in his head, in which there was nothing but a green hill, a small house and an apple tree. There, Philip, in his child form, lives with Caleb, who is a figment of his sick mind. During his 10 years in this mindscape, Philip convinced himself that this was reality. And the Boiling Isles, the cave and the witches who torture him are an endless nightmare. Because, on the Boiling Isles, he sometimes remembers that he killed his brother. But this simply cannot be reality.

At some point, Luz and Hunter realize that Philip is not pretending that he is seriously ill and no matter how much he denies it, he needs help, and they soften towards him somewhat. Although both have rather mixed feelings towards their dementia grandpa.

Even in the moments when Philip remembers himself fully enough, his attitude towards the Boiling Isles, Luz, Hunter and even his own mission has changed greatly in any case. He no longer cares about the destruction of witches and revenge for his brother. Philip is tired. Deadly tired. All he wants to do is sleep. He slept for ten years, and this was perhaps the first time in decades of his life that he felt peace and happiness.

While he is in this state, it happens that he encounter the Collector. This is a difficult meeting for both of them, but it all ends with the forgiveness of all grievances. They both don't want to lose each other now. The collector is still locked in the disk, but Philip has the opportunity to let his friend into his subconscious. Seeing the deplorable state of Philip's mind, he decides that he must help - after all, Philip is still his only friend. Collie asks Philip not to go to "sleep" forever, but Philip replies that he has no joy in waking up here. All he dreams of is never returning to the world of the Boiling Islands. The collector, frightened that his only friend is about to leave him, possesses Philip and promises him that he will get them both out of this nightmare.

This is how Tandem's story begins

a huge amount of detail has been omitted to avoid spoilers for "The Dawn". if you wanna learn more go check the fanfic *wink wink*

[tarotbydelilah444]

describing the type of baddie you are

pile one • 🎀

𐙚 first and foremost, you are absolutely and drop-dead gorgeous. You have unique features, or you could be from a different country, specifically Africa, or Europe (the UK… maybe). Some of you could be of mixed heritage, or you have a beautiful accent that people absolutely adore.

𐙚 you have a great and toned physique to match that face card of yours. Some of you could be or could have been an athlete, or you spend a lot of time working out and maintaining your figure to stay snatched to the gods.

𐙚 some of you could be an influencer or you are very popular in your community. Many people are inspired by you, yet there are some people that are envious and see you as competition. You could attract a lot of evil eye and jealously from haters and people that want to imitate and obtain what you’ve been able to achieve (followers, beauty, and/or success), but aren’t successful, so they stay watching and big mad at you. Muahhh… no access 💋.

𐙚 you are a natural seducer and a flirt. You have this sultriness and confidence that many people respect and find attractive. You have the ability to lure people in with your beauty and charm to get what you want, then become detached and cold when you get what you desire, which is why many people are stuck on you, even when you have disappeared from their lives.

𐙚 it’s hard to impress you and you lose interest pretty fast, if you aren’t constantly stimulated. It’s gives… okay, so what’s next? People tend to have to put in a lot of effort to get your attention and maintain it, or you are very quick to ghost and find something new and more exciting.

𐙚 finally, you are a forced to be reckoned with. You are someone that is well-respected and level headed for the most part, but you are just as quick to go 0-100 real quick, if someone disrespects or slight you in anyway and will not give two f*cks afterwards then continue to protect your peace, like nothing ever happened.

channeled song

pile two • 💗

𐙚 you are hardworking and an overachiever. You are someone that goes after their dreams and doesn’t stop until they reach their goals. You tend to be successful in whatever you choose to go after because you always stay focus on the end goal, without getting distracted. Even when things seem uncertain or challenges arise, you have an unwavering faith to keep going until you get what you desire. 

𐙚 you are a very intelligent and articulate individual, and always open and ready to learn something new, whether if your learning something new through someone else, or learning and teaching yourself. For some, you could be bilingual or trilingual, so you could be fluent Italian, French, and/ or Arabic.

𐙚 for some, you are a wonderful and creative writer, or you are very good with words. You also have a beautiful voice. 

𐙚 your resilience is very admirable. You have the ability to overcome any challenges and obstacles that may come in your path and come up with a solution how to solve any problem that your may encounter. For some, you could want to pursue a career in the medical field, and your resilient and determined spirit will benefit you in the end, so keep up the good work. 

𐙚 you are very mysterious and likely an introverted person. You are perfectly okay with being alone and in your own space. This could be because you might be a little shy and insecure. Your vibe/energy favors Bubbles 🫧 from the PowerPuff Girls, or you have a shy cute nerdy vibe to you, yet underneath that reserved exterior, you are an absolute sweet heart, kind, and loving to those who know you which makes you extremely likable and appealing to others. You have a special way of making people feel invited, heard, and seen with your sweet and caring demeanor. You likely wear your heart on your sleeve and often rely on your heart and emotions to guide you, but you need to be better at not always leading with your feelings and emotions and try learning when to be logical and emotional. I think you don’t know how much you are loved by others. You are being encouraged to step out of your shell and allow yourself to show up and make your mark on the world. You are encouraged to speak up more and put yourself out there. The world is your oyster.

channeled song

pile 3 • 💅🏾

𐙚 this is my rich b*tch energy pile. Your energy /vibe reminds me of the rapper, Saweetie. You are very extroverted and have a very contagious and lively personality that lights up a room and immediately draws people to you. You are very funny and are always cracking jokes, you don’t take yourself or life too seriously and you always have a smile on your face. You are extremely outgoing and pretty much the life of the party.

𐙚 for some, you are a socialite or very influential and well-known in the world or in your line of work. You are always open to meeting and befriending people any chance you get. Some of you could be an entrepreneur, or you have aspirations to create something of your own. You are independent and self-sufficient, you don’t rely on no one to provide for you. You are very passionate and driven when it comes to your goals, dreams, and desires and wont stop until you get everything you want and deserve. Literally self-made and meant to be a boss.

𐙚 you are very outspoken and intelligent. You are not afraid to speak your mind and stand up for yourself and others, if necessary. People tend to underestimate you and what you are capable of because they think you are just a stereotypical “pretty girl” yet, little do they know that you have beauty and brains and you aren’t afraid to show what you know.

𐙚 bougie queens 👑 you prefer the more finer and refined things in life. You look and smell rich and expensive. For some you are actually wealthy and privileged. You take especially good care of yourself any chance that you get. Not the type of woman to accept any thing less than what you deserve because you know and understand your worth and value, then you add tax. You are poised, well-mannered, confident, and unattainable to those that instantly fall head over heels for you.

𐙚 you likely attract a lot of unnecessary hate from people, specifically people that are jealous of yo. You could have people that have tried to do black magic (hexes, curses, evil eye) or send negativity your way to throw you off course and to see fall from grace, but they always fail and their attempts backfire in the worse way. The divine and your spiritual team do not play about you and will be quick to slide, if anyone dares to harm you. People may mess with you a lot because you come off very peaceful and you have a youthful spirit or appearance, so they perceive you as gullible and an easy target. Your presence and essence also intimidates lots of triggered and unhealed people as well.

channeled song

[diejager]

Hi! I'm not sure if you're still doing/taking requests for the monster!141 au anymore so feel free to just ignore this if you aren't! 😊

But if u are can I request a drabble/headcanon about venom!hunter? I'm curious about the dynamic between them (venom & hunter) and how they got along and worked together (i don't really know how to phrase it🥲) when they first met.

Also how did they first met? How does venom get along with 141? I'm not sure if u already wrote about it.

Venom!reader headcanon

Cw: blood, gore, cannibalism?, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 898

Your meeting with Venom was an accident, a coincidence culminated from horrible events, you weren’t supposed to separate from your squad and he wasn’t supposed to die in the body of an incompatible vessel. It was a moment of shame and disgrace, making the simplest mistake one could do in your positions, but everything had a reason, no? Because you found Venom and he found you, he was your way back and you were his compatible vessel.

It was… difficult at first, sharing one mind and body with someone else took some time. A lot of time. It was a struggle of push and pull, your calm waters and his violent storm. While you preferred to stray from trouble, Venom loved it, actively seeking it out whenever he had control of your body. There was a lot of fighting, internal struggles and bickering back and forth, but you eventually came to an understanding —common ground. 

If he let you live your life - a dangerous one filled with blood and violence, still a young private in the army without any achievements and with big dreams - have monopoly over your body whenever you were off the field, you’d relinquish your key on his cage whenever he was hungry while you were fighting, letting his loose to run his rampage and fill his stomach with the heads of enemies. 

It was a relationship built on mutual respect, you for his determination and him for you strength. You understood one another, so your occasional disagreement grew rarer and rarer. You didn’t fight about feeding him only chocolate because you couldn’t stomach the sight of bitten heads. You didn’t fight about wanting excitement when times were too quiet. You didn’t fight when you wanted a few moments of silence in your mind. And you didn’t fight whenever you felt him poke his head out of your sleeve.

This symbiotic relationship only meant that you;d grow closer to each other, he got to know you on a fundamental level and you got to discover more and more about his past and dreams —he had a few wild ones, but all attainable. You shared your fears, your secrets and your pains, you laughed when he stammered after your promise to protect him, his blubbering words and growls sent your way when he said that he would be the one to do the protecting. His reasoning being that he was bigger, stronger and more dangerous than you and your little explosive weapons. 

It was from then on that he called you Little One, a slip of his tongue while you laughed and kicked your legs at his flustered face, his head reaching from your shoulder to glare at you. He acted like a love sick puppy afterwards, often calling out to you when he was bored, nudging your arm while you worked, wanting pets and kisses, or would shower you with loud and boisterous affection. Though he always proclaimed it to be him providing for you, it wasn’t affection - no - it was him watching over you like a guardian —or so he mumbled. 

He would step in if he deemed a situation too dangerous for your fragile, fleshy body. He’d warn you, let you know where and who was coming for you, be it a sniper from a mile away or a group of armed soldiers sneaking around you. If you couldn’t deal with it in time, Venom would forcefully push his way out of you, covering you in a protective layer of his body, the mass of muscle and sinewy cords building a protective shell. And fortunately, it’s only happened when you were hidden away, the knowledge of Venom’s existence would bring unwanted attention to both you and him, none of which were good. 

You met Venom before your study and test for the rank of combat medic, getting his support and mind to help you through it all, his photogenic memory, his talented hands and strength. It was only after earning you new rank, did Laswell contact you for the position on the Task Force 141 since your record held no sign of hateful acts towards monsters and hybrids, and your high success score. 

You both vowed to keep Venom a secret from anyone, he was off the record in every sense, unknown and a mystery, a variant that you were adamant to keep a secret. Venom didn’t… hate the men, he might’ve had a small dislike for their attraction and affection towards you, he was a possessive and protective symbiote, but seeing how you were a permanent fixture in the TF, he was forced to tolerate them. He would let you know what he heard and sensed from them, small secrets he caught or fun, little pranks that he wanted to do, and occasionally protect them. Only because you cared for them, he’d hate to see you sad and worried, Venom preferred seeing you smile and laugh. 

And following these events, Venom could openly interact with the hybrids, unafraid since it wasn’t a secret anymore. He was a bit reluctant, but slipped from your collar whenever someone mentioned something he liked: chocolate, human meat, you or violence, grinning maniacally and flashing his big, white teeth. Despite his apprehension, Venom was a menace, to them as much as he was with you, and yet you still loved him so much. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-nooraa @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[wayhaughtn7]

You know why this scene is so fucking mean? It’s because we know that Keyleth was reluctant to even start a relationship with Vax because she knew that unless someone killed her she would outlive every member of Vox Machina and she didn’t want to open herself up to the pain of losing someone she loved and having to live for centuries afterward. But she still let herself love and the exact thing she was worried about happened. Not only did it happen but she had to accept losing Vax forever while literally watching Percy and Vex get the life they dreamed of. This will be her future while the rest of VM, except for Vax, got to have the life they want with marriage and kids or in Grog’s case lots of fighting, but all Keyleth has had so far is 30+ years of anger and a somewhat strained relationship with her best friend. Everyone else kind of got to retire, settle down and relax while Keyleth basically got the weight of the world on her shoulders and was nearly murdered in a trap set for the love she lost so some power hungry mage could attempt to kill the gods. Someone give Kiki a fucking break please.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (P. 7)

Lucifer/Reader: You’ve been chosen to be the Mother of the Antichrist. Rated E.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

Your sleep had become fitful with dreams that, while not full of violence, left you waking in a cold sweat most mornings. You couldn’t remember most of what happened aside from a parade of images and feelings of discomfort. Sometimes, downright fear. 

The blonde woman was still the star, but you couldn’t remember a word she’d say. The sight of her frowning at two men replayed in your head between sleeping and waking. She frowned at you with dewy wide eyes. 

The woman held her arms out to you: beseeching, sheltering, hurriedly hiding but you were able to escape the gaze of one of the men. 

Fear had spirited you away from unconsciousness when the man’s brown eyes sparked into an unnatural gold. They heated with anger at the mere sight of you. 

—

The only equivalent you could come up with for how you awoke was being jump-started like a car. It took a solid moment of gulping in air and eyeing your surroundings before you could calm the beat of your heart.

“Lucifer?”

It took too much energy to turn and look for him, but you saw that the sheets beside you were disturbed, but duck-less. 

You were overly warm, hopelessly reaching out to run your hand down the opposite side of the bed despite what your eyes told you. 

For a while there was nothing to do but lay in the silence of your darkened room. Eventually your hand drifted into your belly. 

It had become a reflex to pet your own tummy, to feel the bump that had formed there, as small as it was. 

—

You faced forward, looking directly at the screen of your TV without really seeing it. Beside you, Lucifer giggled at whatever was happening between Kermit and Gonzo onscreen. 

His bare hand was latched onto yours, fingers entwined, claws digging into your skin just enough to hurt. Not a lot, just a little bit. Strangely, the discomfort kept you grounded and away from the outlandish yet very real fear that you’d float away without it. 

‘Is it dissociating or disassociation?’

You’d gone long enough with it happening multiple times now but you couldn’t even remember what it was called.

You were pregnant. 

Well, you’d been pregnant for about a month and a half. And your partner in crime had been excited. So excited he’d literally exclaimed ‘oh my golly’ at the news. 

Then he’d had a panic attack, complete with big yet shallow gasps for air and arm flailing, hands flapping, short legs in knee-high boots pacing a hole into your carpet.

You were somewhat grateful for his outburst, if only because taking the steps to placate him was placating unto itself. 

— 

The memory made you smile weakly. A memory that seemed so long ago, even if it had technically happened only a few months prior. 

Everything that had happened afterward had made it seem rosier than it should’ve been. Before things soured so thoroughly that you could barely get out of bed. 

Now, you were exhausted day and night, plagued by not-quite-nightmares during your hibernation-like snoozes, and — when awake — eaten at by fears and doubts. 

You’d never thought seriously about having children. 

There was this permanent barrier to the very idea that lingered in the back of your mind. You don’t know when it formed, or if it was merely a protective mechanism of some kind (God knew you had plenty of those already). Nonetheless, you’d stuck to it, never straying… until now. 

You weren’t the motherly type. And technically you weren’t going to be. As much as Lucifer mooned over you, whether for his own entertainment or because he was genuinely fond of your stupid sarcastic comments and bouts of literary trivia, you would not allow yourself to trust him completely. You had no compunctions about raising the Antichrist once you had fulfilled your end of the deal. 

So you told yourself. Especially when you cycled through detachment and guilt about the creature growing in your womb. Especially when Lucifer was curled up with you, basking in your warmth and bringing you little trinkets and laughing with you at whatever was on TV. Especially when he dropped everything to lay down with you in your sickness, and did anything he could to make you smile, be it with magic tricks or stories from lifetimes ago.

Last night he’d held your hair as you threw up, courtesy of the raw beef you’d craved (thank you, you freaky little fetus). Then he entertained you by shape-shifting into cute animals until you’d cuddled up with his duck self and fallen asleep.

The little slope of your stomach quivered with the rest of your body. You felt the sudden urge to cry. 

—

“Lucifer?”

You braced yourself against the wall to get out of your bedroom. Standing was enough to make you dizzy, skin growing clammy and perspiring while you struggled to move. You were winded after five steps through your rather small apartment. 

Your curiosity was the only thing keeping you going after hearing a series of beeps from outside your door. 

“Aw, shit. Shit, shit, shit! Hold on!”  Lucifer called from a few feet away. 

He was here, in your apartment, more often than not. As a matter of fact, you had the feeling that if you didn’t push him to return to his duties, Lucifer would’ve been with you 24/7. 

Speaking of, he appeared from around the corner just as you buckled and slid against the wall. 

The Devil sprang forward, arms out and ready to catch you. Had you been more yourself, you’d have laughed at the absurdity as most of your weight sagged against its surface and he’d more or less landed on top of you from the side. 

“I’m so so sorry!” He cried, jerking away when you winced. 

“Sorry.” He whispered loudly. “I got your tea and I was trying to make it without waking you but the darn thing wouldn’t stop beeping.” 

“Cassie was here?” You let yourself sway to Lucifer’s side instead of the walls. He was practically carrying you into the living room. 

Unnames illness aside, you found an additional slight against your existence that you still had to keep in contact with your weirdo neighbors. They were both their own flavors of bizarre, but Cassie in particular was extroverted and nosy. 

She brought you tea from her kitchen garden — 

“Just bits and bobs from my little spice garden, things I’ve been growing ‘round the house. Pretty basic stuff: you got your chamomile, mint, there’s rosemary in there too, some cinnamon, ya know.” 

— and wanted to brew it for you while having chats at your kitchen table almost every day. 

Even Lucifer was annoyed by her persistence. 

“Here as in ‘at the door’ but not inside. She actually got it through that thick skull that I didn’t want you to be disturbed.” Lucifer said, equal parts irritated and triumphant. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

Your eyes closed to avoid the sudden onslaught of more tears when your companion tensed. He stopped short of the couch to relish in the contact. His wistful sigh made your heart throb painfully as you wondered for the umpteenth time how the fucking King of Hell could be so effortlessly sweet. 

‘Just to make pulling out the rug from under you later a bigger betrayal.’

The intrusive thought brought more tears, from eyes screwed up as you wished it away. 

“… can’t make tea as a duck.” Lucifer had carried on while gently lowering you on the cushions. “I did try though, to be fair.” 

He had yet to notice your tears, but your laugh was wet. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

It was sudden when cold hands cupped your face and turned your gaze up. You were met with deeply worried crimson eyes. 

The cold was so nice that you had to snuggle into that touch. “It’s ok.” 

Lucifer’s maw opened and closed a few times, helplessly. 

“Do—uh… do you want me to do that? I can try it again!” He jumped back, getting ready to shift in a puff of fireworks. 

“No, come sit with me.” You held up a shaking hand, trying to ignore your own ashen skin. 

The blond hesitated. 

“Please, Lou.” 

—

Lucifer melted at your request. He came to you immediately and took great care as he rearranged your frail body against his own. 

He was grateful that he’d thrown on his velvet robe that morning twicefold now — once to avoid his elderly worshipper seeing his dick, and twice to be able to pull it to the side so that you could lay your forehead against his cold chest.

The King’s skin would warm up with time and human contact, but he knew that his natural icy exterior did wonders to help your over-warm skin. 

Lucifer fought to not chuckle at the ticklish feeling of your hair against his neck. You laid there against him for a long time, breathing lightly and letting him hold you close. The silence was easy for once, not awkward or uncomfortable. Just one person relying on another for quiet solace.

When you finally spoke, it nearly scared him. “What’s it like? In Hell?” 

“Wh-why’re you asking?” Lucifer tried to play it cool. “That’s not really a fun o-oo-r relaxing…!… topic.” 

“Mmm,” Your head slowly lifted until he count easily count your individual eyelashes. 

“I don’t know if you know this, but there’s a little guy in here.” You pointed between yourself and him, to the little slope of your stomach. “And they're gonna call Hell their home soon. It might be good to know what that’s like before I ship them off.” 

“Oh!” Well, that was easier. “It’s uh, it’s red… and warm.” Lucifer wracked his brain. “Well, my Ring is. See, there are 7 Rings total, and technically I rule them all, but my brothers each kinda made their own homes out of them.” 

“Mine though — mine is full of Sinners, which is what we call the humans that died and were condemned to it. They’re all kinda packed in there, heh. Like, uh, tiny fish. That reek.” 

Your lips pursed. “But no one is burning in molten lava at all times or anything, right?”

“No-oo! Well, I mean it’s not impossible. But it’s not the norm. Nah, people go about their way like they do up here, but even more selfishly and violently.” 

Lucifer smiled at your frowning face. 

“It’s like on Earth? So people work, sleep, eat?”

“Yep!”

“They pay bills? Go to parties? Fuck?” Your brows were nearly to your hairline.

“Mmmm-hm!” 

“And they do it for all of eternity? Forever?”

“Pretty much! In a nutshell…” Was his jolly reply. He squeezed you to him for extra measure.

It was your turn to look flummoxed by the picture he painted, the words he spoke that sounded both improbable and spot on for what Hell would be if it was real. 

Well, not if. 

At last, you sighed. 

“I guess it couldn’t have been all that bad if… if you’ve been there for so long and you’re still so sweet.” Your words were barely audible, muttered into Lucifer’s chest when you gave up on making sense of anything.

But the Ruler of Hell had to stop the last-minute ejection of his own wings at your words.

***

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[i-hope-this-is-a-phase]

Regarding the GeorgeNotFound Situation

This entire conversation should not have happened publicly.

It was clear from Caiti's initial post that there was a breakdown in communication rather than any "assault" or "molestation." In her own testimony, she never described explicitly stating no, nor giving any indication besides "getting up" to stop the attention (which was later disproved).

That does not mean she wasn't uncomfortable. That does not mean she was not hurt by George's actions. It also does not mean George is a molester because of it.

From Caiti and George's statements, it is clear that this took place over a couple of hours (3-4), and besides the texting afterward, there were no further physical interactions between them. To use a single incident to describe George's behavior is a stretch at best and downright misinformation at worst. In the Wilbur situation, the violations of Shelby's boundaries happened over months with repeated attempts to tell him to stop.

In George's situation, it happened over four hours, in which there were no explicit tells to stop.

That said, I do hope George takes this incident and rethinks his behavior with strangers. Even if it should not be described as molesting, it still hurt Caiti, and if I were him, I would make strides to not repeat the mistakes made here.

Moreover, I think that some parties involved should not have been. Some individuals used the volatile situation to spread their own hate toward the Dream Team. They used Caiti's story to push their own agenda, which, in no way, is supporting a victim. Her friends should have helped her find closure by seeking reconciliation from her "abuser;" instead, they made the situation a public massacre where she would most likely be harassed after already feeling vulnerable.

My hope is that, behind the scenes, the two will talk about what happened and try to find peace. George clearly did not know he hurt Caiti, and he apologized for making her feel uncomfortable. That does not make him a villain: it makes him a person who made a mistake.

The moral of this whole fiasco is not to support or not support victims. Support can be weaponized for personal gain, and to support blindly is almost as bad as not supporting at all.

Instead, we need to listen. From the beginning, Caiti's story was a plea for an apology from George, and all she needed was George's apology (which she received). She did not need people calling him an abuser, she did not need her friends to utilize her pain to attack George's friend Dream, and she did not need people to pry into both her and George's life for answers.

All of this could, and should, have happened off-screen where the two parties could reconcile and heal.

To Caiti: I wish this had not happened to you. I am sorry you are in pain, and I am sorry your friends used your pain for their gain. I hope you find peace from George's apology, and if you do not, I hope you find peace in life.

To George: I wish this did not happen in the public light. Your mistake did not need to be publicized and scrutinized and instead should have been between you and Caiti. I hope you will help Caiti find peace, and if she does not want it, I hope you grow as a person and do not make this mistake again.

As of right now, this blog will remain positive about the Dream Team. I probably will not be supporting George enthusiastically right now (since I want to be certain this isn't a repetitive behavior and just one incident). However, I will be happy to talk about any fandom content regarding him and the other members.

It has been a rough few days, and I am grateful for the lovely positivity we created between my anons and followers. I give you all many squishes of happiness. Thank you for being kind.

Now, let us all move on to a better and brighter future in this fandom. We have a lot of content coming up, and I'm very excited. Feel free to send any asks regarding the situation; I would love to read your opinions.

TL;DR This conversation should have happened off-camera. Caiti's story should not have been used for clout, and George should not have been attacked for clout. Both need to heal off-camera, and we should support that.

[kedreeva]

#we spoke of this a LOT at work after that one tech was murdered and hidden in a wall

hi!👋 hello! kedreeva! i’m going to need to ask you to explain this!!!!

So back in 2009, a lab student named Annie Le was murdered at Yale university. Cameras saw her going on into a building, but not out again and it was like, the eve of her wedding (or close to? I don't remember) so clearly she had places to be and people waiting for her so they immediately started looking and the next day (or so? Anyway on the day of her wedding) they found her body in a recess in a wall, down in the areas where the research animals were kept. It turns out, a tech had killed her, but since there were cameras like EVERYWHERE, he just, I guess, left her there. Well, hid the body where it was. I don't remember how they caught him, but they did. It was a horrifying story. It still is.

And it was a huge news story among the folks at my workplace because, at the time, I was working at a different university, as an animal husbandry technician. As you can imagine this was a kind of intense time to be in that situation. They started offering, like, I'm not gonna say counseling but it was "if you need to talk we would prefer you talk to us about something wrong rather than kill anyone about it" and as techs (even if we were not even the same kind of tech, the killer was a lab tech and we were husbandry techs but I think a lot of people assumed it had been a husbandry tech since she was in an animal area), we were kind of getting the side eye from lab people for weeks afterwards. Like they thought we were gonna go "wow that's a fantastic idea, you're next!" or something, idk. And I mean like, people would freeze when you were alone in a hallway, or turn and walk the other way, or duck into the nearest room and watch you walk past, and they were all being super nice/civil to us when they did have to interact. It was very atypical behavior for lab people. Like not all of them, some of them had always been nice and weren't worried, but some of the people who had been unbelievable dicks previously were walking on eggshells. And the people who had friends in other universities reported this was happening at their jobs, too.

And instead of talking to The Man (because all the higher ups were garbage at the time), we just. talked among ourselves. It was a lot of "I may say I feel like strangling lab people sometimes when they do things that drive me up a wall but I don't MEAN it you know that right" and it also led to group discussions of what would be a theoretical *better* solution to hiding a body than what happened, with clear disdain for doing things like hiding bodies in walls, which is a terrible idea and one we would never do (looking at the people who think we might have decided this was a great idea actually).

Which consequently led to a lot of supervisors and/or managers that happened to overhear us bringing us donuts or arranging pizza for lunch in like, some kind of bid to help us feel appreciated, I guess, so that we wouldn't murder anyone, even though none of us were going to do that anyway. But also none of us were in a position to turn down free donuts or pizza or whatever.

And then after a few weeks, maybe a month or so, people just kind of forgot and moved on and things went back to normal like fifty people hadn't spent every lunch hour for weeks talking quietly among themselves about how human bodies would definitely fit into a carcass disposal barrel or that you'd have to crush hip bones and/or skulls before incineration. Hypothetically.

Like I said, it was a VERY weird time to be at my job, and every time I remember it happening feels like a fever dream. I can't even imagine what it was like at Yale.

[t0yac1d]

Attention (C.Grimes x Fem!Reader)

Request: hi! I had a request in mind with Carl grimes where like the f! reader is being a brat because they haven’t had sex in a while and she’s starting to become really pent up so she starts acting up and stuff and Carl yk deals with her. And it involves stuff like degradation, oral(f receiving), overstimulation. And then include some aftercare afterwards where he’s all like lovey dovey and shit.

Btw no worries if you can’t write this anytime soon! 🫶🏻

Word Count: 2,017

Warnings: Smut, bratty/mean!Reader, jealous/mean!Carl, some degrading but lots of mean!Carl, biting, teasing, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, aftercare

Notes: Idk loves, I think I like having mean!Carl around. Also, I am so fucking sorry for getting this out extremely late, it won't happen again!

You've never been one to act out. Never been one to be impatient over something so small. Never been one to cause a problem that could've very easily been solved if talked about. But as they say, there's always, always, always, a first for everything.

It's been a little while since you and Carl have done anything intimate. Whether it had been holding hands, cuddling, kissing, or even just sex. You're aware of the huge ongoing and dangerous situation that's going on. The world has gone to shit, and it has been like that for years. So, you know that you can't always live that perfect and peaceful life you dreamed. But you just missed your boy's touch, his smell and presence so much that it started to get to you.

You lacked attention from him, he'd give you a glance and a smile when he could but other than that, you've been sleeping in an empty and cold bed.

It started a couple of weeks ago, your tone and mood shifted whenever you spoke to him. You acted colder to him than to anyone else. He had wondered if he did something to upset his girl, but before he had the chance to ask his dad called him over for help, and since then he had forgotten about it.

You then started getting a little too touchy with some of the guys, especially Ron. That made Carl feel something within, something he hasn't felt before. You've always talked to Ron, you guys were pretty close, but for some reason he felt as if right at that moment there was something else happening that wasn't friend-like.

You've tried almost every way to get Carl to react to you, including flirting with Ron to see if he'd grab you and take you to his room so you could finally feel his touch after so long. But it all failed. You were so close to giving up when you got an idea that wasn't exactly the best.

But if it gave you the possibility to be touched in anyway by your boyfriend, you'd take it.

Carl was in his room, getting dressed to go out on a run. This was your chance to:

A. Have a peaceful conversation and talk to him

Or

B. Make him feel what he unintentionally made you feel

You made sure to wear the hottest and sluttiest outfit you owned. A very short and tight shirt that showed a beautiful amount of cleavage and the miniest skirt you had in your wardrobe. But it was perfect for the weather, as it was a heat wave. So, in your defense, it was the only outfit that kept you cool in this heat!

Before you walked in the room you gave a knock on the door and announced it was you. When you got the green light to come in, you opened the door and closed it behind you.

You made your way to his full body mirror, not saying a word to him as you fixed your hair, face, and just checked yourself out while checking him out in the mirror at the same time.

"What? No 'Hi'?" he joked, walking to you, and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

If you weren't so upset with how he treated you these past couple of weeks, you would've leaned into his touch and sighed with content, inhaled his scent and enjoy his presence while you had him.

But you kept your composure. You stood your ground and resisted the feeling.

"Hi, Carl." you muttered, focusing on your figure more than his, you knew if you continued to glance his way you'd pounce on him.

"Hi baby," he smiled, leaning in to give your cheek a kiss. When he did you wiped it off with the back of your hand and sighed, "Don't do that, you'll ruin the blush."

Carl's face twisted in confusion, you've never cared when he kissed your face before, whether there was makeup or not. "Sorry," he apologized.

"Sure, how do I look?" you questioned, crossing your arms, making your tits push together and almost spill out of your tiny top. "Beautiful as always. Are you coming with me?" he asked. "No, I'm heading to Ron's."

Carl felt a pang in his heart and gut.

"Why?" he asked, curiosity taking over him.

"To be fucked and stuffed my love." you smiled.

You didn't even get the chance to walk to the door when Carl hooked two of fingers around the belt loop of your shorts and pulled you towards him, your back hitting his chest.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What?" you asked, tilting your head.

"I must've heard your pretty mouth wrong. Why are you going to Ron's?"

"To be fucked and stuffed." You repeated, looking up at him, "Don't you have somewhere important to be? Like leaving me again for the fourth week in the row?"

The cogs in Carl's head turned and a lightbulb went off, "You're acting like this because I've been busy?"

"No, I'm acting like this because I'm practically in a relationship by myself."

"So, you dress like a whore and tell me you're going to get fucked by your friend? You're funny." he chuckled, turning you so your body would face him.

"I'm not joking. If you won't fuck me, I'll just go to someone who will. Someone who I know would fuck me better than-"

Carl grabbed your jaw and forced you to shut your mouth, "What was that? I couldn't hear you; can you say that again for me?"

You whimpered, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Get on the bed and lay on your back." he said as he let go of your face.

"And if I don't?" you teased, your lips getting closer to his, ghosting over them. "Get the fuck on the bed, bitch."

You giggled and lied down on the bed, he wished he could be mad at you for saying those things. But he can't. He just can't.

You look too beautiful and dreamy with the way you were splayed out on his bed.

"This is funny to you sweetheart?" he asked, hovering over you, kissing your neck and leaving bite marks over the skin. "Just a little," you sighed.

Carl hummed and made his way down to your shorts. He unbuttoned them and pulled them down. He kissed the inside of your thigh and softly bit them.

You were soaked, you just knew there was a wet patch on the middle of your panties from how desperate you were for Carl. He looked up at the wet spot and smirked, "I haven't even started yet, and you're already soaked."

"Not for you, that's for sure." you said, crossing your arms. "Not for me?" he asked.

"No. Not for you."

He hummed at your response and his fingers grazed against your clothed cunt. Your body shivered at his touch, and you sucked in a breath.

He toyed with your clit through your panties and lightly touched it.

He slid your panties to the side and teased your aching, begging, wet hole with a finger.

He moved his hand back and got off of the bed. "What are you doing?" you asked, "Well, you're not wet for me, right? You're wet for him."

"You can go to him to cum." he smiled.

Well, this didn't go as planned. He was supposed to deal with you, but he's just, leaving?

"So, you're leaving your girlfriend here?" you asked, "No, I'm leaving a brat here. Tell my girlfriend I'll be back."

"Your girlfriend is gonna be fucking another guy on your bed." you mumbled, Carl scoffed and turned back to you. He spread your legs and pulled your panties off of your body.

He pushed your legs up to your chest and dipped head low.

You felt his tongue lick and lap at your folds and juices. Drinking you and tasting your essence. You were so horny and pent up from the lack of sex that you didn't need much to cum. His tongue alone was doing the job.

Your whines and moans grew louder and louder, you were so close to cumming on his tongue. Your mind was foggy and empty, the only thing in that head of yours was that you got what you've been missing.

Your moans began to break as you felt yourself about to cum, that's when you felt Carl's tongue leave from between your legs.

"Apologize." he said, "W-What," you stuttered, "Apologize for the things you said."

"Um, I'm s-sorry,"

"Say it like you mean it."

He pushed his knee close to your pussy, the friction making your toes curl.

"I do mean it!" you cried out,

Carl didn't really believe you; he didn't believe you meant it but that's fine. He'll just get it out of you.

He spread your legs once more and dipped his head between your thighs and kept your legs on his shoulders. He shoved two fingers and his tongue in your hole and curled them.

You came all over his tongue and fingers, panting and wiping sweat off of your forehead.

You thought that was all until Carl cleaned his fingers and dove back in. Your hand flew to his head, you were so sensitive right now. You were always sensitive after you came, and Carl knew that he also wanted to take advantage of that.

Again, it didn't take much for you to cum, but each time you did he would just go back in. He wouldn't give you a break and you started to feel tears fall down your face from the stimulation.

"Apologize and this will be the last one. If I don't believe you, we'll just keep going."

He's been repeating that over and over and over again. You've apologized more than you can count on both hands.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean when I said I was going to fuck Ron! I-I didn't mean it when I said he was better!" your whines broke your sentence up so much, you sounded so pretty, and looked so slutty.

So messy.

Your hair clung to your skin, your mascara ran down your face and you were shining with a coat of sweat. Your skin was hot, and your cheeks were flushed. You were a mess. And it was all because of him.

You felt Carl smile and he made you cum one last time before kissing up your sweaty legs, stomach, chest, neck and face. "You want anything? Water or a snack?" he asked, "Water.." you said, your voice not even above a whisper.

Carl left his room to grab a cup of water and some snacks. He gave you the water as he went to run a cool bath for you. He came back to his room and picked you up bridal style. "Can't wait to carry you up like this through the threshold." he chuckled sweetly.

He sat you down on the tub and helped you take your shirt off and wiped your makeup off for you.

"Get in, let me clean you." he softly spoke. His tone was different from before, guess he just matched the energy you were giving him before.

You sat in the tub as Carl lathered your body in soap and cleaned you off. He was so sweet to you. He wouldn't hurt you, not on accident, never on purpose. "I'm sorry for the way I acted." you spoke up, breaking the silence.

"It's okay love. You were just upset that I haven't been treating you like my girlfriend and I understand that. But say shit like fucking Ron again and I'm beating him and fucking you like a whore."

You smiled and giggled at his words, "You'd like that," he said, shaking his head, "I would."

"Freak." he joked.

It was times like these that made you remember that he in fact did love you. Even when you acted out and got moody, he still loved you and cared for you deeply.

[lexirosewrites]

I started watching too many videos abt human pregnancy & pets... & this thought wouldn't leave me

Steve & Eddie aren't mated yet, but they're living together, plan to mate, r already engaged, planning to maybe have a wedding or elope depending on how much a wedding would cost, when they adopt a dog (specifically a scottish deerhound bc I dream abt owning this breed in my wildest fantasy & what is fanfic if not wish fulfillment) after moving into a house they bought with the hush money

They love this dog, they did a lot of research into ethical breeders & how best to care for her breed, they've trained her in basics before moving onto more complicated commands & finally going thru a process to train her in the basics of emotional support (bc both of them have nightmares)

her full name is Gandalf the Gray Munson but they've both ended up just calling her Gray, for the most part Gray likes both of her owners equally she'll sit w Eddie as he paints minis or writes, she'll follow Steve around the kitchen or go with him on his morning run, & she'll sit w her owners as they watch something or try to dance w them when they listen to music, she even guards the door to their bedroom when either of them goes into heat/rut & will only move when a human she trusts comes to pick her up so they can take care of her without her owners worrying

Steddie finally elope & have a party w their closest family & friends afterwards, they exchange mating bites & have a short honeymoon, Gray is ecstatic when they get back to say the least, then a week or 2 after they get back Gray starts acting differently... she'll almost exclusively follow Steve around, she sniffs him more often, she cuddles him A LOT & then... Steve's period doesn't arrive so he takes several tests & every single one is positive!!

From there Gray's behavior starts to change more dramatically as the happy couple prepare to welcome their sweet baby into the world, as Steve progresses & his belly starts showing Gray needs to be near Steve like never before, she's purposefully slow on their morning jaunt tht has gone from a run to a walk, when they're out & she's w them & ppl decide to treat Steve's belly like it's public property she'll actually growl & even once jumped at a particularly insistent woman, she begins guarding Steve against pretty much everyone especially Eddie, the only exception to this is Aunty Robin the 3 of them often have cuddle puddles as Steve gets bigger & Eddie is very jealous, Gray especially loves lying w steve in a way tht allows her head to rest on his belly & as the baby grows she feels the baby kick more than once quickly loving the connection w her younger human sibling

when the day of the birth gets near she is glued to Steve & when his belly drops she's climbing into bed w steve & comforts him as the discomfort of pregnancy makes itself known even more

(This part is partially inspired by my mom's experience when she went into labour w me)

Steve gets up late at night because he thinks he needs to pee, Gray follows him into the bathroom as she's done all these 40 weeks, when he pees he realizes right away it isn't actually pee & gray obviously knows it as well

While steve slowly stands & processes tht his water just broke, she does something they never trained her to do: she runs & wakes up Eddie as Steve grips the sink when a contraction hits practicing the breathing he's learned, Eddie is literally dragged into the bathroom by Gray bc she's got his shirt in her mouth, he realizes what's happening & it's controlled chaos as he runs around grabbing Steve's shoes, a pair of clean sweat pants for his omega, & the maternity shirt Eddie’s been scenting every day for the last 40 weeks, he's got the hospital bag over his shoulder, car keys, he's actively calling Robin to come to their house & watch Gray while he's helping steve to the car, as they're driving to the hospital he's on the phone w their doctor telling her to meet them at the hospital they all planned to be at,

after they get to the hospital it all goes relatively smoothly: steve gives birth to a healthy baby boy, Eddie is a helpful presence in the birthing room, neither baby boy or steve have health complications, but it still takes close to 10 hours of active labor to meet their son, after its done steve demands Eddie get him a cheeseburger, strawberry milkshake, & French fries from their favorite diner that's literally open by the time steve is in his hospital room recuperating and their son is back from a short bath & the usual medical procedures tht hospitals follow after the birth of a baby

When Steve & the baby come home a few days later Gray is ecstatic to see Steve again & so so curious & loving of her new human brother 💖

(I'm so sorry if there's any inaccurate medicine happening here, please tell me what I missed or even messed up)

i’ve always said that Steve and Eddie need an emotional support dog to help them with their trauma after everything they’ve been through, but Gray goes above and beyond for his little family🥺😭💕

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + fifteen

authors note: next chapter will be a lot heavier, because we see shit play out. italicized dialogue indicates that spanish is being spoken.

ya'll better not come for me after this one either, okay! 😭

just know the plot is plotting, ya'll

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

cw/tw: fluff, angst, roman being a dick to anyone other than his wife, and violence

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

masterlist

words: 10k

The newly opened doors of intimacy have awakened a previously dormant part of Solana.

Something she previously thought impossible to access, permanently damaged as a result of her trauma.

But, she was wrong. 

So, so wrong.

Roman is everything she never allowed herself to dream about having, let alone actually hoped to have in real life.

Caring, considerate, gentle, patient.

Their first time together is something she’ll never forget and always cherish. But, it’s the times afterwards, sporadic over the past two days since the consummation, that have almost meant something more.

A testament to her comfort and trust in him.

Of her love for him.

Sitting in bed, in between his legs, leaning into his strong body with nothing but the thin 600 thread count sheets covering them, Solana sketches, no particular drawing in mind, just whatever is felt in that moment. And what’s felt is the image and scenery of the water, of the beauty that is Isla Mujeres. Her mom was right. There’s nothing like it.

“I think—I think I want to come back here sooner rather than later.” Solana finds herself partially wondering aloud but also wanting to pick her husband’s brain. “I know you probably won’t be able to come, and that’s okay. Maybe…maybe Bayley can come with me?” It’s both a suggestion and a question. 

Roman makes a sound against her, his lips lingering along her temple, long fingers moving gently against the side of her breast under the sheets. “Whatever you want, I’ll make happen. Bayley will go with you.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip, shading a palm tree. “But, what if she has plans?”

“She will. Plans to go with you.”

A small smile falls on her face. “How do you know she’ll just agree with you?” Solana has an idea of what he’s going to say, and she’s correct. 

“People do what I tell them to do, and if they don’t, they face the consequences. And no one wants that, so they just do it.” 

She doesn’t doubt that one bit. Because no matter how sweet and caring he is to her, that’s where it stops. With her.

Because to anyone and everyone else, he’s Roman Reigns, ruthless, brutal leader of the Bloodline.

And she’s accepted that. Accepted that he has to juggle two different hats.

She’s just happy she gets the best of him.

“I Facetime’d Naomi today and got to see Dulce.” As much fun as she’s having, as healing as this trip has been for her, she misses her sweet puppy deeply. “Guess who’s taken to her?”

Roman chuckles, looking back with a bit of shock. “Jimmy?”

Solana nods, grinning as she remembers overhearing Jimmy ask about where ‘fluff fluff’ is. “Naomi says he’s even got her sleeping in the bed with them.”

“Well, she damn sure ain’t doing that with us.” His voice takes on an authoritative tone. Not that she’s in disagreement. Dulce is too small for that. Roman would literally smother her. “Our bed is occupied.” He ghosts his lips over the shell of her earlobe. “Gonna be real busy when we get back home….”

Solana tries instead to focus on the drawing at hand versus that familiar feeling pooling in her stomach. 

Continuing with the topic in the hopes of settling that feeling, she shares, “I want to do something nice for Naomi and Bayley when we get back. They’ve—they’ve been so nice to me.”

It’s something she’s been thinking about ever since the beautiful birthday messages she’s received. Having never really had many friends, to be able to land such solid, loyal people like them is something she doesn’t take lightly. She doesn’t know quite yet how she wants to show her appreciation, but she’s determined to come up with something.

An idea crossing her mind, Solana suggests, “maybe they both can come stay here with me for a week?”

His mouth moves back to the side of her face. “Mmmhmm.”

“Like…..like a girls trip.” Solana has never experienced one of those and just the thought of having one with the two of them has pre-excitement already forming.

Roman sighs, clearly distracted by his lips exploring her face. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Turning her head to the side to look up at him, small smile on her face, Solana asks, “are you listening to me?”

Roman hums against her skin. “I’m always listening to you, Solana.” Her eyes flutter as his fingers shift and move under the generous swell of her breast. “Probably the only person that’s the case for…..” His mouth moves to her cheek. “But, it’s hard to focus with you naked like this…..”

The pencil in her hand naturally drops against the sketchbook, her head lolling backwards, lips pressing together. “Roman….” 

This is such a new experience. She’s never desired to be touched or craved such intimacy until Roman. Even with her trauma, there’s a pull that seems to have been unleashed with the consummation of her marriage.

An urge that has her thighs pressing together, something Roman most definitely takes note of. Eyes darkening with lust and something else, he asks, voice almost hoarse, “are you sore?”

She is, but not nearly as sore as she was after their first time. And certainly not to the point where she wants to decline.

“No,” is the answer she settles on, Roman’s lips on hers in a matter of seconds. She shifts her body so she’s straddling him, the feeling of him hard and warm between her legs making her moan in his mouth. Roman easily switches positions so she’s on her back, him hovering over her. 

He breaks the kiss, asking once more, “you sure?”

Solana licks her lips, forever thankful for his constant efforts to receive her consent. “Yes.”

His eyes burn with need. “Could be inside you like this all day….” He brings his hand to the back of her thigh, lifting her leg and opening her up more as he gradually descends into her slick warmth. “And definitely all night….”

Solana would be lying if she said she didn’t feel somewhat of the same way.

________

She wakes up with a growing familiar ache between her legs, soft sheets against her nude body, and her husband pressed against her, his arm draped over her, holding her close to him.

But, he’s not sleeping. She can feel his mouth hovering over her shoulder. Her smile grows a bit as she thinks about their last lovemaking session, so passionate and fulfilling. Another round of him giving her pleasure she didn’t think possible.

However, it’s when she glances at the clock and sees the time, her eyes widen a bit from the shock. “Roman, it’s almost 2 o’clock….”

He’s never been more uninterested. “And?” Lips traveling the length of her arm, he murmurs against her smooth skin. “You’d never leave this bed if it was up to me….”

His statement, half joking, half serious, makes her smile, but it also helps her realize she has to be a bit more outspoken about what she wants.

Holding the sheet against her chest, she rolls onto her back, informing, “I want to go out to the marketplace today.”

He scowls. “Around people?” 

“Yes, people.” She giggles, moving her hand to his face, beard tickling her palm. “We only have two more days here. I want to bring back gifts for Naomi, Bayley, and your cousins”

It’s the mention of the twins that makes him roll his eyes as he falls back into the mattress. “You always trying to take care of the homeless.”

Solana giggles, hovering over him, hand on his chest. “That’s so mean, Roman. They’re not homeless.”

“Then why the hell are they always at our house?”

She shakes her head, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna go get ready.” 

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t prevent her from leaving the bed and doing just that.

And in less than two hours, both showered, fed, and dressed, they’re out of the house and on their way to the market.

Adolfo López Mateos is the municipal market and offers a trove of items for Solana to pick from. Countless authentic options for her to bring back home as gifts but also as souvenirs for herself, reminders of this wonderful place that will forever hold such beautiful memories for her.

A place that also leaves her feeling so connected to her maternal side. 

To her mother.

Roman serves as the quiet, always surveying husband who remains by her side the whole time as she goes from stall to stall. He serves as her personal shopping assistant as well, holding the growing number of bags for her purchases.

But, he handles it exceptionally well, never once complaining. Granted, she is mindful of the fact that the crowded market and all of the fellow shoppers and merchants seem to well exceed his tolerance for people in general.

So, she does make note to try to wrap it up sooner rather than later.

She’d never want to take advantage of his kindness and generosity.

Solana is at a stall looking at fabric when stiffening beside her drags her attention to her husband as well as what’s caused him to tense. 

A child.

A little girl. Around 8 or 9. She has dark hair that’s down and unruly, the light breeze in the market causing it to splash against her tanned face, hazel eyes landed directly on Roman. Her hand is outreached, a flower in hand. 

Solana recognizes it rather quickly. She steps forward, asking in Spanish, “is that for him?”

The little girl looks over and nods, directing her gaze back on Roman. Solana does the same, small smile on her face as she informs. “She’s giving it to you.” 

His expression is unchanged as he asks. “Why?”

Solana giggles. “It’s an Alstroemeria. They represent friendship.”

“This random ass kid wants to be my friend?”

Solana rolls her eyes. “She’s being friendly.” Seeing Roman has no intentions on further acknowledging this child, she gently shoves him. “Please?” The ‘for me?’ doesn’t need to be asked as Roman sighs loudly and accepts the flower followed up with a muttered ‘thanks.’

Pleased, the little girl beams, suddenly motioning both Roman and Solana to follow her.

Curious, Solana asks, “you want us to come?” 

She nods excitedly, pointing a few stalls down to where flowers bloom. Solana asks, “That’s where you got these from? You want us to see the rest?”

Another nod, and Solana finds herself following the child, Roman begrudgingly on the heel of her, committed to his not allowing her to explore a stretch of land or sea on this trip without him being right there next to her.

Even if it means forced socialization. 

Solana allows the child to guide them to the stall that’s filled with the most beautiful, intricate flowers she’s ever seen, some of which she recognizes from conversations with her mom.

“Look how beautiful…..” Her eyes land on the powder pink ones, a brief realization setting in as she asks the little girl, “are these sword lily’s?” 

Again, the child offers only a nonverbal acknowledgement via a head nod, and Solana starts to wonder if her silence is by choice or limitation. Either one, she can kind of relate to. 

Turning to Roman, Solana explains to him, “these are sword lilly’s. They represent sympathy and memories.” Memories…Solana has plenty of those. The good, to some extent, starting to outweigh the bad.

He looks more uninterested than the actual tone of his voice. “Do all Mexican flowers have some sort of meaning?”

“Some. Not all.” She answers, fingers gliding over the petals. “And it’s not always flowers native to Mexico, just flowers that we have meaning attributions for. Culturally.”

“You are correct.” A voice enters the conversation, Solana watching a woman step out back from behind the stall. Her hair is a deep onyx, thick and wavy, her skin lightly kissed by the sun that also highlights the beauty of her eyes. Fine lines give away that she has some years under her belt, but it’s hard to tell just how many. She switches languages, “You don’t speak Spanish like a tourist.”

Solana realizes she must have overheard her asking the girls about the flowers. “My—my mother was a Native.”

“She taught you well.” Her smile grows, warm and friendly, familiar in a weird sort of way. “What is your name, child?”

“Solana.” She gestures towards Roman who’s still looking just as uninterested as he’s been in any other type of social interaction outside of Solana. “This is my husband, Roman.”

“I figured.” She motions to Roman’s closeness to her, the way he stays almost hovering, protecting and caring but still pretty close. “He’s very protective of you.

Solana nods. She has no idea. “What is your name?”

“Paloma,” she introduces, removing one of her work gloves to shake Solana’s hand. The younger woman is slightly grateful that Paloma doesn’t try to greet Roman in the same manner. She’d surely get her feelings hurt. “What brings you here?

Again, a gesture to Roman with her thumb. “He surprised me for my birthday.”

Paloma makes a sound and smiles wryly. “Ahh, so it’s only others he’s unfriendly with.”

“He….he’s very quiet.” An ironic choice of words considering just who is saying them, but it’s the best word to come to mind to describe Roman without being mean. He is technically quiet, but the fact that it’s because he, in his own words, hates people isn’t necessarily something that needs to be shared. “Do you really grow all of these?”

“I do.” The proud smile on her face makes Solana smile just as warmly. “I own a nursery about twenty minutes out of here. A family business that my mother and her mother and her mother started generations ago.”

“That’s so beautiful.”

“It was….” The use of past tense causes Solana’s smile to dim a bit. She can sense there’s a story there, a story that no doubt holds some level of pain. Paloma shakes her head, gesturing to the flowers. “Were you wanting to buy any?”

“Uhhhh….” The technical answer is no. Solana would have probably stopped to admire the beautiful flowers, maybe tried to identify one or two, but it would not have gone beyond that. It’s the little girl who Solana realizes is behind the stand, poorly sneaking glances at Roman, who called them over. “Yes, I—”

“She brought you over, didn’t she?” 

“Yes.” Solana lowers her voice, asking as gently as she can. “Does she speak?”

“Yes, but she prefers not to. Very shy. Parents fight a lot. I don’t think she really gets a lot of space to talk.” And the frown is back. Solana can definitely understand that. “Do you two have plans tonight?”

“Uhhhh.” Solana turns to Roman, asking, “did you have anything else planned for us this evening?”

“If she’s trying to get us to do something around other people, yes. I’ll find something.”

Solana rolls her eyes, lightly scolding in her soft voice, “Roman, that’s not nice.”

“Solana, I’m pretty sure we had this conversation already. I don’t like people. I hate people. You’re the only one I like.”

Solana decides to win him over later versus now as she turns to Paloma with a friendly expression that contrasts her husband’s scowl. Something tells her he already knows she’s about to sign them up for something that forces him to be around people. 

“We’re free this evening. Why do you ask?”

________

“Tell me again why we’re meeting this random ass old woman for dinner?”

Solana is only seconds away from applying her lip gloss when Roman’s question deters her from her task, creating a new one in its place. Capping it, she walks out the bathroom, leaning against the doorway. “Her name is Paloma, and she’s really sweet, and she invited us.”

Turns out, Paloma owns one of the restaurants in town Solana remembers stumbling across when she was perusing other places to visit while on their trip. It’s just a crazy coincidence that Solana ended up running into her and receiving a personal invite to dine there for dinner this evening. 

And it’s an offer she didn’t want to turn down. 

“Are you sure she didn’t just invite you?”

Curious, she asks the question she’s almost certain she already knows the answer to. “Would you let me go by myself?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.” Walking over to Roman, Solana glides her hands up his chest, locking them behind his neck. “It’s just a dinner. We won’t even be there that long. Then…tomorrow, it’s just the two of us.”

“It could be the two of us tonight too….”

His fingers dance across the small of her back as she bites back a smile. “Roman, it’s been the two of us this entire trip already, basically….”

“You know I could never get enough of you…” He gently squeezes the sides of her stomach, sliding into reluctant acquiescence. “But, you know I can’t say no to you either so….”

She smiles and leans up and presses a kiss against his cheek, murmuring, “thank you.” Taking a bit of a mile with the inch she’s been given, she implores, “can you….try to be a little more friendly? For me?”

Roman looks at her like she just asked him to let her go alone. “Solana….”

“Just for tonight.”

“Do they even speak English?” She gives him a look that’s just another form of ‘for me?’ He tilts his head back and scratches his beard. “I’ll try not to maim or kill anybody. That’s the best you’re getting from me, baby.”

“Thank you.” She kisses him again, turning for the bathroom when he pulls her back to face him, and right away, she recognizes that look. “Roman….”

He ignores her, both casually and suggestively complimenting, “I like this dress.” It’s combined with him slowly moving one of the hands on her waist down the length of her dress until he can slip his hand underneath.

“T–thank you…” She swallows, struggling to stay focused. “We’re—we’re gonna be late.”

“Too bad.” He moves his hand between her legs, gradually sliding up her thighs. “Should have thought about that before you put this on.” He kisses her temple, asking in a low voice, “do you want me to stop?” At the same time, his hand pauses on her skin.

The logical answer is yes, but the carnal answer is the complete opposite. And desire seems to overpower logic in this round. “N–no.”

It’s the perfect answer for her husband whose full lips form into a smirk as he removes his hand to guide her towards the bed as he lays her on her back. Solana half expects him to move on top of her, but he instead moves to his knees and tugs her toward the edge of the bed.

The anticipation of what pleasure is to come makes her lick her lips, prematurely moaning his name, “Roman…”

His brown eyes flick up to her, desire and lust dancing away in his irises. 

Yeah, they’re most definitely going to be late.

________

The night goes as expected, Solana enjoying herself, and Roman enjoying that his wife is enjoying herself despite the fact that being surrounded by a bunch of fucking strangers who speak mostly in Spanish has him subtly checking the time on his watch more often than not.

The desire to pick up the language grows exponentially. Roman dislikes being out of the loop in any sort of capacity.

Solana translates for the most part, granted it’s mostly things he doesn’t really care too much about. Paloma asking what he thought about the food, requests to join in the dancing—that’s a hell no—and other pleasantries that violate his religion of Anti-Peopleology. 

Except his wife, of course.

And to be fair, they’re able to share their dinner together without many interruptions, conversation staying between the two of them, which he appreciates. He’d appreciate it more if no one was there to interrupt, but alas, Solana having a smile on her face almost the whole night makes it all worth it.

She seems exceptionally taken with the little random ass girl from the market whose name he doesn’t bother to remember. Something with an A, he’d guess. She also seems just as interested in Solana, which he doesn’t entirely not understand. She’s relatively mute with the exception of a couple of words and sentences.

It reminds him of Solana and how nonverbal she was at the beginning of the marriage. And something tells him the girl also reminds her of herself. Which makes the pull between the two make more sense than maybe he’d like to admit.

But, his inner dialogue is interrupted as the old lady approaches the table where he sits alone as Solana dances with the child, both of them smiling and laughing. 

“You’re not the social one of the two of you, are you?” She asks what he considers both a stupid and ironic question. Typically, Solana isn’t this social either. But this….this place….it seems to bring out a different side of her.

A happier side of her.

Roman only casts the old woman a bored glance. “This is her world. Not mine.”

The woman chuckles, and to Roman’s chagrin, sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Yes, I suppose this is very different from the Bloodline.”

Her statement doesn’t surprise him, doesn’t take him off guard, and that’s because Roman isn’t stupid. He would never allow some practical stranger to invite his wife for dinner at a restaurant she owns without researching her. 

Paloma Aguilar. 70. Widowed. One child who seemingly disappeared without a trace over twenty years ago. Her late husband, Ricardo, was a man who at one point entered the world of the cartel and smuggling, but it was short lived as he passed away from a heart attack at the age of 45. His brother, however, Tomas, is still actively involved, but Paloma couldn’t be farther removed.

From his research, Roman could see she truly prefers to live her life away from the in-laws business, preferring her restaurant and gardening, the polar opposite of the high-paced crime life. 

But, it would be ludicrous for her to not be aware of him and who he is, regardless of her preference to stay separate from that life.

Curious, though he already knows the answer, he asks, “when did you realize who I was?”

She smiles, “soon enough.” The lack of specificity annoys him even more than he already is. “Probably around the time you found out who I am.”

Interested to see how she’ll respond, he asks, “and just who are you?”

Her smile is small and sad. “Just an old woman living out the rest of her days in solitude.” Roman has experienced enough loss to be able to recognize when someone else has also had the misfortune of losing someone. It’s evident in her tone. 

Still, that doesn't diminish his disinterest in this conversation.

She also looks over at his dancing wife, casually commenting, “I suppose it’s true that opposites attract.”

Eager to stir this woman away, Roman responds with all the casualness. “I’m not Solana. You could be 90, and I’d still snap your fucking neck if you presented any kind of threat to my wife.”

It’s uncalled for. He knows this. A misplaced threat against an elderly woman, sure. But, it’ll hopefully be enough to get her to leave him the fuck alone. 

She smiles, partially surprising him. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, young man.” Her grin dims a bit. “I would never judge a man for protecting the woman he loves.”

Roman tenses, effectively managing to keep his reaction to her statement to himself.

Love

What the fuck is that even?

He knows…..familial love. But….romantic love? 

That’s….that’s such an unfamiliar concept. Something not even in his repertoire. 

He can’t deny that he likes Solana. A lot. Cares for her deeply, and recognizes that he needs her in his life. Needs her light in what is otherwise dark and dreary.

But…..

To say that he loves her….that’s too much. That’s too strong.

Too dangerous.

Love is weakness.

And Roman can’t afford to be weak. He won’t. Not for anything or anyone. 

Not even Solana.

But, of course, this old ass woman just has to twist the knife even deeper as she stands up to leave. “You two will make great parents.” Roman is an expert at hiding reactions to what’s being said to him, but this one takes some effort. A lot, if he’s being honest. “Your protectiveness. Her nurturance.”

With that, she finally leaves him be, but not without a million and one thoughts floating through his mind, all of them now revolving around two things he’s never considered for himself.

Love and children.

________

As the night comes to an end, Solana pulls Aurora, the sweet little girl who’s taken a liking to her and a crush on Roman, to the side. 

“I have something for you.”

Aurora’s eyes light up with all the excitement of a child eager to receive an unexpected present.

Solana hands over the beautiful journal she picked up in the market earlier that day. Originally a gift for herself, but now something that she wants to pass on to the little girl who reminds her so much of herself. 

Aurora’s mouth drops open with surprise as she accepts the leather journal. Solana smiles and explains, “When I was a little girl, I didn’t talk a lot either. But, my mom always told me that when I couldn’t speak, I could always write.” She frowns a bit, instructing. “And that’s what I did. I wrote until I found my voice. The same way you can.”

Aurora looks up with teary eyes and surprises Solana by attacking her with a big hug. Solana easily settles in the embrace, holding and hugging the little girl in a way that every child should be comforted.

Aurora pulls back and offers a simple, “thank you!”

Solana blinks back some tears. “You’re very welcome.” Her smile shifts into something teasing but also hopeful, “now I expect to see you when I come back to visit, okay?”

Aurora nods happily as she gives Solana one more hug before running over to an older woman who Solana would guess is her mother.

“She’ll never forget that, you know.” 

Turning to the source of the voice, Solana’s smile grows. “I hope not.”

Paoma chuckles and moves closer, repeating the same words. “I have something for you too.”

She pulls out a cloth jewelry bag and takes Solana’s hand, placing the bag in it. “Open it.”

Confused but curious, Solana does just that and gasps almost immediately at the beautiful gold necklace she recognizes instantly. “A Cruz de Caravaca.”

Paloma looks pleased by Solana’s knowledge and asks a follow up question. “How much do you know about these?”

Swallowing the emotion, she recalls the information taught to her so long ago. “They—they ward off evil and bring protection.” There’s an almost bitter tone that enters her voice. “My mother had one….” It’s the most Solana can bring herself to say, because her mother wore one almost religiously. And it did nothing to protect her from the evil of her father.

Or the knife that viciously tore and sliced through her body, violently ending her life. 

Paloma nods, complementing, “whoever taught you our ways taught you well.” 

Emotion burning the back of the throat, “it was my mom. She—she died when I was young.” Murdered. She was murdered, but acknowledging that feels too much, is too much. Regardless of how her life ended, it all means the same.

That she’s not here anymore.

Paloma’s expression is solemn as she lifts her right arm, turning it inward, revealing her tattoos. Two Hummingbirds. “Many years ago, I lost my daughter. And shortly after, my husband. I—I didn’t really know how to go on after that. She was my only child, and he was the only man I ever loved.” Her smile is emotional. “But then I remember that love never dies, it transcends into another form. They’re not here in the way I want them to be, but they’re still here. And every so often when I’m in my garden, I see Hummingbirds, and I feel better because I know they’re still with me. Watching over me.” 

Solana wipes at her eyes as Paloma places a comforting hand on her arm. “And so is your mother.”

It’s hard to verbalize what she’s feeling in this moment. Paloma’s words provide her with a type of comfort that feels almost motherly, an ironic feeling considering the nature of the conversation.

“Thank you.” It’s such a simple thing that doesn’t feel strong enough for how much Solana appreciates such comforting words of support. 

“You have a good heart. A kind soul. But, be careful child.” She takes Solana’s hands in her own. “My….my daughter was like you. Loving and giving. But too trusting, and it cost her her life. Betrayal and darkness can come from where you least expect it.” 

Paloma’s words confuse her. The warning aspect of it. What…what exactly does that mean?

“Stick with that husband of yours….” Paloma adds, smile gradually returning. “He is protective of you the way my husband used to be with me.” 

That ebbs away some of her confusion regarding the ominous warning, as Solana suddenly asks, almost tentatively. “Could I….could I come back and see you too?”

Paloma chuckles, and Solana almost swears she sees emotion brewing behind the woman’s wise gaze as she pulls her in for a hug.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t, child….”

________

He’s not entirely surprised to find her in the kitchen, but that doesn’t necessarily make her presence in the kitchen any less concerning. Especially when she’s supposed to be on bedrest.

Roman comes up behind her, smiling when she jumps a bit as he hugs her. Years later, some things remain the same. 

Solana turns around, a warm smile on her pretty face. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” Not necessarily. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to find it in him to be sorry for touching his wife.“Hi.”

“Hi.” She giggles as he kisses her. 

Eyes shutting a bit as he relishes in the feeling he’s craved dearly for the past few weeks. “I missed you all.”

“We missed you too,” she murmurs, moving her hands up his chest. “You look tired.”

He’s a bit jet lagged, but it’s nothing he won’t bounce back from in a couple of days. That’s the least of his concern, anyway. Roman moves his hand to her stomach, big and swollen, pressing against his abs. “You should be resting.”

Solana rolls her eyes and calmly counters, “not with how active this one is.” She moves his hand around, probably trying to find a spot where he can feel the movement. “He’s definitely your son.”

He counters, “even more reason to be resting.” 

She shakes her head, changing the subject a bit as she softly shares, “they’ll be happy to see you. I didn’t tell them you were coming home early.”

His eyes light up a bit as he asks, “where are they?”

Solana chuckles. “You already know.”

Roman makes a sound and nods, murmuring with a final kiss to her temple, “I’ll be back.” 

He walks out of the kitchen and into the hall, moving to the back of the house.

Two separate rooms, directly across from one another, each providing a variety of different activities and spaces. Most completely opposite one another. Expected, given their staunchly different personalities.

There’s no active decision regarding which room he walks in first, no specific desire to see or interact with one over the other. He just so happens to venture left vs right. 

And sure enough, as predicted, she sits at the table, so small but perfect for her. She’s focused on the paper in front of her and crayon in her hand. So focused to the point where she misses his entrance, doesn’t overhear his footsteps until he’s only a few feet away from her.

But when she does, big brown eyes landing on him, eyes that are exact replicas of her mothers, the crayon is dropped and the smile is out. She jumps up from the seat and runs over to him, Roman leaning down just in time to catch her hug, an instant ease washing over him, deeper than what’s allotted even with his wife.

This is something different, something deeper, something he still doesn’t quite know or believe he deserves to feel. But nevertheless, it’s present, it’s felt, and it’s wonderful.

When she pulls away, he finds himself pushing back some of her curls, light and fluffy, framing her face that’s the perfect combination of himself and Solana. “I missed you…” Her smile grows as he asks, eyes narrowed a bit. “Were you a good girl for your mom while I was gone?” She nods excitedly and reaches for his hand, Roman standing as she guides him over to the table where she was drawing. Roman crouches back down as she shares her artwork, an in-progress photo of the ocean, most likely scenery she’s memorized from one of their many trips to Isla Mujeres. “Is this what you’re working on?” Again, another nod as she points between the drawing and him. He points to himself. “Is this gonna be for me?”

Instead of the expected no, she answers in her voice, so soft and light. “I’m sorry it wasn’t done in time….”

A small smile grows on his face. She’s very much unlike her sister, of very few words. So much so that Roman insisted he and Solana discuss her quietness with the pediatrician to make sure nothing was wrong. And of course, nothing was. It’s just that she inherited quite literally Solana’s entire disposition. Quiet with a great big heart that seems too pure for this world.

And, unfortunately, a tendency to apologize when unnecessary.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.” His praise seems to bring back her smile as he kisses her forehead. “Fa'afetai tele.”

She matches his smile, surprising him yet again with more spoken words vs non verbals. “E le afaina.” 

Standing back up, he informs, “I’m gonna go see your sister. Can you go help mom finish cooking dinner?” He knows Solana is almost done, if not already, but Roman also knows that personality and disposition weren’t the only things inherited. So were passions and interests, hence the drawing.

And cooking, judging by the way her eyes light up as she dashes out the room to play assistant.

Roman chuckles and walks out, hitting the switch as he moves across the hall, once again unsurprised by what he finds. She’s going at it with the freestanding punching bag, kicks that are pretty impressive considering her age. Her face is scrunched up in determination, the same face as her sisters yet so different. 

Where one is soft and quiet, the other is loud and bold. One is timid, the other adventurous. One is Solana, but this one….she’s her father’s daughter, through and through. Bold and fearless. 

“Don’t forget to point your toes.”

His deep voice breaks through her concentration as she whips her head to the side, a reaction similar to her twin sister. A huge smile breaks through that impressive focus.

“Daddy!”

Again, he moves to one knee to catch her for a hug, tight and heartwarming. She pulls back almost immediately, asking with all the excitement. “Did you see me?”

“I sure did.” He comments on what’s more than obvious. “you’ve been practicing.”

She nods with just as much excitement. “Aunt Bayley and Aunt Naomi said I’m really good!”

“You are.” He wouldn’t lie to her. She is. But, he also knows it’s because this is her passion. Where her sister finds joy in art and books, she gets that joy from movement, from fighting, her gravitation towards martial arts happening at such a young age. 

“I’m gonna be better than you!” He chuckles. At not even a fraction of his age, she already is. And it has nothing to do with her natural fighting abilities. 

“We’ll see.”

“I am!” She affirms, so determined and focused. “I’m gonna wear the ula fala and be Tribal Chief just like you, daddy!”

Roman does his best to keep that small ounce of concern hidden and tucked away. Young. She’s too young to know just what she’s asking for, the weight that comes with what he does, the truth about what and who he is.

It’s been the decision of both himself and Solana to shield the girls from it. The truth of it all. For now. As long as they can, at least. But the girls aren’t dumb either, they know he holds a high rank, one of the highest, in his family.

And his spitfire of a daughter seems determined to do the exact same.

“Cousin Jamar was saying I can’t cause I’m a girl, but I told him he’s just a stupid boy and I’m way smarter anyway.”

Roman’s eyes narrow slightly as asks the question he already knows the answer to. “And you hit him too, didn’t you?”

Even when he has to be away from home, Solana makes sure to keep him informed of all happenings with the girls, especially this one who’s already gotten in trouble a couple of times at school for her mouth.

And fist.

Her eyes drop as she pouts slightly, murmuring, “he made me mad….” His temper. She definitely has inherited that too. “No one talks about me, you, mommy, sissy or my new baby brother, or I’ll punch them in their face.”

This is the part where Roman struggles, where he tries his best to tap into that part of him that feels so unfamiliar. Because his initial response is that she did nothing wrong, that she’s doing exactly what she’s entitled to.

Protecting her family and standing up for what she believes is right. 

“It’s important to know when to fight, and it’s a lot harder not to sometimes.” That’s the best he can come up with in the moment to not necessarily let her know he doesn’t see much of an issue with her behavior. “I’ll teach you.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “I get to train with you?” A request she’s had for at least the past two years, Roman pushing it off and allowing Bayley and Naomi to help her because his level of training is far too intense for her young age.

But

That doesn’t mean he can’t modify his approach a bit. 

“Yes!” She jumps up and down, hugging him, another small smile on Roman’s face. Some kids like to play dolls, like his other daughter, but this one….this one lives for a good fight.

And speaking of, the calmer of the two of them coming running into the room, Roman turning just in time as she smiles and tugs on his shirt, motioning for them to follow her.

“Is dinner ready?” Learning to understand her even with the absence of speech has come second nature for all of them. 

She nods, as the other one breaks the hug with Roman, asking her twin with all the excitement and competitiveness. “Wanna race?”

Roman already knows the answer, watching as his more quiet child is suddenly waiting for her sister to count them off. Seconds later, the two of them rush out the room on a trajectory that’ll lead to Solana who will no doubt chastise them for running in the house.

But they come back, giggling together as they stand in the doorway, hitting him with both a question and a demand. 

“Daddy, are you coming?”

“Daddy, wake up!”

Roman shoots up from the bed, hulking shoulders moving up and down in sync with his heavy breathing. Movement to the side of him shows him Solana shifting in her sleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

It’s the exact opposite of how he feels. 

Moving his hand through his silky, wavy locks, Roman takes the blanket off of him and carefully moves out the bed, prioritizing not disturbing his wife. 

He blows out a breath and walks out the double doors that bring him to the patio, his big body settling down on one of the chaise lounges.

It’s only then he asks himself the burning question at the back of his mind.

What the fuck was that?

Roman doesn’t really dream a lot, and when he does, they’re more along the lines or nightmares.

Night terrors when he was younger.

But this……he doesn’t even know what the fuck that was.

Children.

Roman has never really seen himself as a father, never allowed himself to think about it because it’s never really been a desire. He’s always known that he would have to create an heir to carry on his legacy, but that’s a thing of duty. Not desire.

So why the fuck is he dreaming about having not one but several children with Solana?

Solana….

Her oath a few weeks back of giving him an heir returns to the front of his mind. It makes him wonder all of sudden what her view on children is. Does she want children? Without inside knowledge of her trauma, one would think that’s an obvious thing. She would have never married him, never agreed to the arrangement when the sole purpose of the union was to create a child if she didn’t, in fact, want a child. 

But, Roman knows her, knows her trauma. Knows that she was forced into this.

Which makes him incapable of shooting down the possibility that maybe she doesn’t even want children?

And then he thinks about her tonight, thinks about the permanent smile on her face as she interacted with that little girl, the way she interacted with several of the children present who came up to her.

She looked….she looked happy. 

Content.

And of course, the now haunting words of the old woman who Solana also seems to have heavily gravitated towards: 

“You two will make great parents.”

Thinking about and being completely honest with himself, he sees it for Solana. Could….could see her as a mother.

But seeing himself as a father….that’s something he can’t answer. Can’t understand, really. 

The same way he can’t understand why there’s a small part of him that’s upset he woke up.

Upset that the dream didn’t last just a little bit longer. 

Upset that he’s now thinking heavily about what the old lady predicted.

Himself and Solana as parents. 

Fuck.

First the love comment, now this?

Damn that old woman.

________

Something is off with Roman.

Solana has noticed it ever since the night of the dinner at Paloma’s restaurant. She figured it was maybe because Roman really can only withstand so much social interaction. Chalked it up to him needing the night to sleep it off.

But, it was there the next day and the day after that and even as their trip in Isla Mujeres came to an end. 

On the jet ride back home, he’s quiet, working diligently on his work laptop. She tries her best not to think too much of it, because it’s not like he’s ignoring her. He still talks to her, still interacts with her, still touches her, but it’s just….off.

There’s like this….this distance that she can’t understand.

A distance that hurts. 

It’s why she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to not get too into her head over her dress. It’s probably the most risqué thing she’s ever worn, more skin showing than she would prefer to be exposed. But, a small part of her hopes it will catch Roman’s attention.

Hopes it can progress the touches into something more.

Because along with his distant behavior, there’s been a lack of intimacy between them. And that’s especially hard for her to not think too much about. Because, to her, it was going well. She….she enjoys being with him in that way. Being that close to him.

She thought he did too.

Roman suddenly knocks on the bathroom door, asking, “you almost—damn.” Him stopping himself puts a smile on her face. 

Solana chews on her bottom lip, asking, “do–do you like it?” She then motions to her chest that’s heavily exposed. “I know it’s—it’s a lot.”

Roman moves closer to her, eyes raking over her slowly, hand moving to the back of her, under her dress, cupping her ass. “You sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?” A small smile starts to form on her face at his suggestive tone. “The two of us…naked.”

Her stomach flutters with excitement. This is the first time in days that he’s expressed any desire to be with her in that way, and now she’s beyond grateful that she pushed past her insecurity and put on the dress. Because it’s brought out that side of him that she’s been missing.

The side that makes her feel like he wants her.

A hand on his chest, she murmurs, “when we get back.”

Because while she also has a desire to be intimate with him, she’s also excited to see their friends.

Naomi, Bayley, and the twins inviting her (and naturally, Roman) out to a VIP lounge to have a belated birthday celebration since she wasn’t available to do anything with them for her actual birthday. She’s excited to see them, to be around her friends. 

“Are you….” Solana doesn't know where exactly it comes from, the bravery and confidence to ask what she’s about to, but it seems to leave her mouth before she can really think too much about it. “Are you okay?”

His gaze takes a curious tone. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, suddenly nervous about how to word it right. “I don’t know. You’ve just seemed….kinda off the past couple days.” He swallows, and she sees something flash in his eyes, something he shoves away. Something she’s now just as curious about. “Is–”

“I’m fine,” he answers. For some reason, she has a hard time believing that. “Adjusting to being back has just been irritating. I’ve never taken a vacation before, so shit has just been an annoying adjustment.”

Solana nods, believing there could be some truth to that. She doesn’t doubt it’s been an adjustment for him. But, there’s also this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that there’s something else he’s not telling her.

“O-okay.” Something tells her this conversation will need to be revisited, just not right now. Not when it’s clear he has no desire to express whatever is really bothering him.

Roman dips his head and kisses her cheek. “Let’s get out of here. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can be inside you.” She giggles, gasping as he slaps her ass. 

“Roman!”

________

The lounge is beautiful. Reminiscent of an upscale club, minus the packed bodies and loud music. It’s clearly geared toward upscale clientele, and the second level of the lounge has been rented out, space cleared for their small party.

Something she greatly appreciates. Both for herself and Roman. Her husband already sacrificed so much of his preference to be isolated from others vs surrounded by people on their trip. 

The group separates naturally, Roman and the twins with Solana sitting near Bayley and Naomi, the two women nearly bursting at the seams with a ton of questions/statements.

“How was it?”

“We already know it was nice considering we barely heard from you.”

“Dulce mama was out here living her best life.”

“You got a lil tan too!”

“We want to know everything.”

Solana giggles, shrugging. “It was really nice.”

Bayley scoffs, “just nice? Girl, you gotta give us more than that.”

Solana opens her mouth, pausing a bit. “I mean….we spent a lot of time together.” Her eyes fall over to Roman who’s surprisingly engaging in conversation with Jimmy and Jey. Solo, as well. His presence surprised her. 

She didn’t know he was coming. Not to mention, she didn’t think he’d want to be present for anything that’s not required when it comes to her.

“And?”

Solana knows they’re not intentionally asking about sex, but their questions are unintentionally pointing her to share just that. And for some reason, most likely the trust and bond she’s formed with them, she’s not opposed.

That doesn’t stop the maddening blush from forming on her cheeks as she shares, “we—well, we finally, umm—”

Loud gasps interrupt her, Naomi being the one to ask the infamous question, “Solana, did ya’ll….” Solana chews on her bottom lip, nodding softly.

Bayley and Naomi have to cover their mouths to hold in the screams that would no doubt draw all of the wrong attention.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Bayley exclaims, suddenly asking with all the protectiveness, “he was good to you, right? Didn’t pressure you—”

“No. No. Never.” That’s probably the easiest thing to answer. Solana doesn’t know how to properly express how good Roman was to her. Has been to her. “He was—it was perfect.”

Naomi smirks, playfully nudging Solana’s shoulder. “We told you it was great with the right person.” They couldn’t have been more right. “So….was it just once or—”

Bayley scoffs. “We cannot be asking her all these intimate details!” Only to then casually ask, “so like how big is his dick really?”

Naomi falls out laughing while Solana’s eyes widen at the graphic nature of Bayley’s question. 

“So you can ask about his dick size, but I can’t ask about how many times they’ve done it?”

Bayley protests, sipping some of her Vodka as she counters, “my question is for science.”

“Bullshit!” 

Solana shakes her head, giggling as she coyly answers, “we…it’s been a couple times.”

Naomi smirks. “Okay, girl, I see you. Ya’ll went to Mexico and got freaky.” Solana takes a sip of her bottled water, more than certain her cheeks are a red, hot mess. “Seriously though….I’m happy for you. With what you’ve been through, you deserve to have a happy, healthy, sex life. Every woman does.”

“She’s right.” Bayley agrees, and Solana finds the emotions brewing again. 

Never did she think it was possible, that she could have just that. A healthy sex life. Just how she never imagined she would end up with someone as amazing as Roman. Yet both of those things are exactly what have happened, and she’s never been happier. 

“Wait, does this mean we’re gonna be godmothers soon?” Bayley asks an otherwise normal question that has Solana still in her seat. 

Naomi chimes, “I mean, she’s not allowed to be on birth control, and I know Roman had to have broken his condom only rule since they’re married so….”

Solana has a hard time saying anything, has a hard time not thinking about something that should have been considered the moment that barrier was broken.

Roman and Solana have consummated their marriage.

They’ve had sex. 

Several times.

Unprotected sex.

They are actively having unprotected sex.

Naomi is right in that not once did Roman bring up protection. 

It has her wondering now if he didn’t bring it up because, in his mind, they’re now working on creating an heir?

But, she dispels that theory pretty quickly, remembering how determined he was to help her not feel any pressure regarding them conceiving a child. He’s never seemed too concerned with that part of their marriage deal.

Unless….

Unless it was because they weren’t sexually active, but now that they are….

Suddenly, another conversation with Roman regarding just what the plan is for that is on the agenda.

Along with whatever it is that’s bothering him that he won’t open up about. 

Bayley and Naomi must pick up on her change and mood, switching the conversation to something regarding some mess that kicked off at the Warehouse between Nia and some person named Mia. Solana does her best to follow along when she feels her phone vibrate in her bag. 

Pulling it out, she unlocks her phone and opens up messages, specifically the unopened thread from an unsaved number.

Unknown: Did you really think you would get away with fucking us over?

Unknown: You were warned.

Unknown: What happens next is on you.

The phone drops out of Solana’s hand the minute she’s done reading the text. She can barely breathe, barely process what’s happening as her head snaps up, eyes frantically searching for the one person who’s now been kicked to the front of her mind.

Roman

She spots him, expression unreadable as he sips on a beer, speaking to Solo.

Solana jumps up from the sofa, ignoring Naomi and Bayley asking what’s wrong. She kicks her heels off and makes a beeline straight for him, uncaring about the bodies she has to squeeze between, the few individuals who she actually shoves out of her way. Something at any other time she wouldn’t dare consider doing. But this isn’t any other time, this is life or death.

Literally.

“Roman!”

His eyes snap with hers seconds before she successfully makes her way over to him. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. She can barely breathe, and she’s certain that she’s trembling, but none of that stops her from rushing out, “we have to get out of here!”

His hands move to her face, cupping it, taking note of her frantic state as he asks with all of the protectiveness. “What’s wrong?”

Eyes watering, she opens her mouth. “I—”

That’s as far as it goes, the most and only thing that she’s able to express because before she’s cut off. Roman’s gaze lifts above her and the last thing she sees is the slight widening of his eyes as he shoves her to the side of him with so much force that she slams against the ground, her head bouncing off the carpeted floor.

But, that’s not what catches her attention. Not the shock of him pushing her so harshly, putting his hands on her in a way she would have never thought possible. No, that’s not an issue at all, because the sound that only seems to have registered upon her fall is what has her attention snatched and fixated.

A single sound that she hasn’t heard in years.

A gunshot. 

And then chaos.

There’s shouts, there’s screams, there’s people running around in a mass panic, but a single voice cuts through all of that: clear, loud, furious. “Get her out of here now!”

Roman.

And it’s the sound of his voice that makes Solana snap her head to the side, eager to lay eyes on him in the midst of this chaos.

But, it’s when she does that everything changes, the world stops and time stands still.

“No.” She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move, can’t function because all she can focus on is the sight of Roman’s men with a perimeter around him, guns lifted and aimed, ready to fire off at a moment's notice. “Roman!” She tries to climb up off the floor, tries to get to him, to see him, to touch him. 

Solana is unable to look away from the sight of him holding onto his shoulder, face grimaced in pain, blood seeping through his long fingers.

But before can get to him, before she can actually touch him, another voice calls out, “cover me!” And she’s suddenly off the floor, body pressed against a stranger, the interaction causing her to try to jerk away. 

Partially because of the contact, mostly because she needs to get to Roman.

“We gotta get you out of here!” Solo’s voice, harsh and determined, makes her realize he’s the strange body that she also now realizes is trying to get her the hell out of dodge. “Now!”

And it’s right then and there that another gunshot rings out, followed by several more.

Solana’s panic nearly triples as she tries to push him away, tears burning her eyes, “no! I’m not leaving him!” Solana beats her fist against Solo as he continues to drag her, Solana begging, “don’t make me leave him!” The tears are spilling over, the last glimpse of Roman showing Jimmy and Jey rushing over in his direction. “Please!” Solana continues to cry out his name, fighting a losing battle against Solo who is successful in ushering her out of the emergency exit located in the back. 

Once outside, he has to keep dragging her down the fire escape staircase, because she doesn’t stop trying to push him away and doesn't stop from trying to get back to Roman. Solana can’t stop replaying the nightmare that has just become a reality. 

She has no idea where Naomi is. Where Bayley is. Only able to see the twins and Roman before she was ripped away from the scene.

Roman….

He pushed her to protect her.

Moved her out the line of fire and took the bullet intended for her.

He’s been shot because of her.

He’s been hurt because of her.

And it’s all her fault.

[starsifter]

Ford x Reader dating headcanons, some are like POTs specific and trans masc specific

When you first start dating, he has no idea what he's doing really, he starts showing physical affection in very awkward ways like ruffling your hair and just sorta grabbing your arms and giving you random hugs

He's very paranoid about Bill hurting you, so he doesn't let you sleep in his bed with him for the longest time, but he won't tell you why

Once, you fell asleep in his lap and when you woke up he was gone, but you were tucked in nice and neat. When you went looking for him, his bedroom door was locked.

He's insecure about holding your hand, especially in public, worried about what you'll say and what other people will say

His hands are nice and warm to the touch, they feel very soft

He's very insistent that you get up slow so you don't faint or fall, and he keeps you steady when you get dizzy

Normally he doesn't like to be bothered when he's working but he likes it when you sit with him and just exist near him

He's very sensitive to your dysphoria and relates to it, he makes an extra effort to ensure you don't experience it because of him

He likes to read the things he's writing out loud and narrate his research when you're around

Once, you had a very strange dream with him in it, but he won't admit that you'd somehow shared dreams because he has no idea how it happened

He mumbles a lot in his sleep, a lot of sad and confusing things, if you ask about it he just brushes it off, he doesn't want you to worry

He loves hearing about your dreams, he's very invested in whether or not a "triangle guy" features in them

Sometimes, after a rough night of no sleep, he asks you to read to him because he finds your voice very calming

He falls asleep on top of books often, and in your lap or with his head nestled on the crook of your shoulder, he's a very light sleeper

He's up late often, studying and working, you like staying up with him, to which his response is to begrudgingly go to bed just so you'll go

He has very strange hygiene habits, burns his beard off instead of shaving it, he washes his hands and uses hand sanitizer on them before he eats, he wears gloves to cook

Once you asked him to trim your hair and he just kinda burnt the excess off, he took you to a barber afterwards and paid for them to fix it, he was horrifically embarrassed when you explained what happened to the barber

Sometimes you shower together, in a nonsexual way, he helps you clean your back and hair, normally he takes scalding hot showers but he turns the heat down so you don't pass out

He takes you on a date in the alien ship and holds you while he uses the magnet gun to slide you both down

He excitedly shows you everything, including the deactivated security bots, he accidentally reactivates them while knocking on them and assuring you they're "perfectly safe"

He stands in front of you and you hide, he knows you can't control your heart rate, and you both make it out unscathed

If you get into an altercation with any anomalies he immediately jumps to take the hits for you, to his own detriment

He's embarrassed accepting help from you to treat his wounds, but he sits still, biting his tongue if anything hurts and never letting you know

He always has an extensive first aid kit on him when you're around, and he likes to keep track of your meds, but he won't bug you about them if you don't want him to

He tests out pet names on you, recording your responses to them, he called you sugar plum once, never again

He likes to call you dear and dearest (and babe, although a bit awkwardly) in public

He calls you dove, starshine, beloved, honey, and bunny in private, he slipped up once and Stanley never let it go

He teaches you how to shoot, and makes sure you're carrying protection on you whenever you go out, usually his modified bear spray

He refuses to text so you're always receiving random calls from him, they're typically never about anything important, he just likes to hear your voice and know that you're okay

He gives you his coat when you're cold and when you trip and fall or become harmed in any way he worries incessantly, he treats all your wounds very carefully and says everything he's going to do before he does it, always asking if it's okay

He smells like pine needles, smoke, pen ink, and generally has a nice outside-smelling musk about him

He has dozens of coats, turtlenecks, and sweaters, he lets you borrow them whenever you want, they always smell like him

He forgets to take his coat and boots off around the house, he wears socks with cat patterns all over them

When you argue he tends to pace a lot, he's very stubborn and has a hard time seeing when he's wrong

He can get a little possessive and protective at times, and you argue about it, eventually he concedes, knowing you're right

One time you came home very late at night and he was out looking for you, Stanley stayed behind knowing you'd come back, he tells you his brother really cares about you and he's rarely ever seen him so worried

Stan warns you not to break Ford's heart, if you ever tell Ford about this, they argue about it

Stan and Ford argue and fight a lot, but they're very close, and they try to not argue in front of you

Ford is awkward around his grandniece and grandnephew, but you can tell he cares a lot about his family and he makes an effort to make sure they like you too. Mabel is obsessed with your relationship, it gets to be a bit much at times.

The end :D