#i know it’s not like confirmed that that’s what was up but IMAGINE if this was the case

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

[elsafromcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies | chapter one

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: the next chapter will be available tomorrow.

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + one

authors note: hi! this is a complete rework from another roman story i wrote but needed to redo. it's a mafia au, so understandably super dark. a 'blink and you'll miss it' bit of a beauty and the beast retelling. not meant to be anything groundbreaking or unlike most mafia stories.

i've found that my writing is best when 2nd person pov, so i wanted to challenge myself to make this third person to better my writing, thus, bear with me, ya'll. :)

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

cw/tw: language, violence against women, mention of parental death, vague hinting at past sexual trauma

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes' by leann rimes

words: 5.2k

Through trial and error, mostly error, a lot of error, Solana Miller has learned and mastered most of the things that upset her father. 

Speaking out of turn. Meals not being ready on time. The house being a “mess.” The actual list is a living breathing thing that grows with each day and every unfortunate occurrence, but always at the very top of this list is lack of punctuality. 

There’s nothing Xavier Miller hates more than lateness. 

And that’s exactly what she is. 

Solana nearly faceplants into the three steps leading into the house with how fast she’s running. Her shaking hand and sweaty palm make it take longer than usual to unlock the front door, and the force in which she slams it shut behind her should be enough to knock the nearby family photo off the wall.

The photo that she is not included in, of course. 

She’s brushing off invisible lent as she rushes into her father’s office. “I’m sorry, there was an—” Her panting mouth snaps shut when she reaches the doorway, hand holding onto the frame of the door. “—accident.”

The minute Solana saw the flashing police lights and array of red brake lights was the moment she realized that she was in for a brutal punishment. She’d started to mentally prepare for such, trying to recall if she’s restocked the first aid kit kept in her bathroom and frequently retrieved. But, it’s not until she’s standing in the doorway of her father’s office, an office that’s filled with not only him and her brother, Wes, but other men that she realizes the ferocity of this punishment may be unlike any she’s received in some time.

Not only is she late, but she’s now interrupted some sort of meeting that he wanted her present for. 

Xavier’s eyes land on Solana with faux happiness that conceals flames she recognizes as a precursor for what’s to come. Naturally, like he’s not imagining all the cruel ways he can hurt her, in a way that only he can do, he slaps on a tight smile. “Ahh, there she is.”

Solana also realizes how almost everyone’s gaze is on her, and that doesn't make for a good response because she finds herself asking, “what’s going o—”

Xavier’s smile is very much unlike the ice in his voice. “Silence, child.” 

The sharpness of his command evokes an immediate response. Her shoulders slump and head drops. The displeasure just keeps growing. Solana can already feel the bruises forming, the sting of the ice on her busted lip. 

One of the men, an oversized, middle aged white man with a sharp gaze speaks. “I take it, this is your daughter?”

“It is,” her father confirms. If she didn’t know any better, Solana could almost swear she hears a hint of proudness. “Please forgive her lateness. She knows the importance of obedience.”

And the repercussions of obedience. Repercussions Solana knows await her once this meeting ends.

“I hope she does.” The same white man clears his throat. Solana hears the ruffling of papers but refuses to look up. Her gaze is better served focused on the ground, her silence and submissiveness certainly music to her father’s ears. “We received the requested medical report, and it appears you weren’t lying, Miller. The girl is still a virgin.”

That….that is the moment where it takes all willpower for Solana’s head not to snap up, eyes wide with both confusion and partial recognition. She’d wondered why her father asked her to schedule her yearly check-up with her GYN when she wasn’t due for another couple of months but knew better than to question, so she went ahead and did it. 

And she wondered why this checkup was so….different. Labs were taken, more questions asked, and a vaginal exam that had her leaving more uncomfortable than she’d ever been with Dr. Boyd. Not that seeing the woman was ever an enjoyable time in the first place. She's cold, stoic, an obvious doctor on the mafia payroll, but she's still a woman. 

Solana can't have a male GYN. She can't have a male doctor in any sort of specialty.

The confusion, however, comes into play at this man’s words.

“The girl is still a virgin.” 

That couldn’t be farthest from the truth.

“Her blood work also indicates she should have no problems conceiving a child.”

Emotions overpower reason as Solana breaks her silence and lifts her head. “What?” One furious glance from Xavier, and immediately, she knows that she’s fucked up.

She also realizes that she’s failed to notice one very important member whose sheer size takes up almost the entirety of her father’s onyx black loveseat.

Solana has heard the name Roman Reigns more times than she can keep track of over the years. It’s inescapable to live in this life and not know of the brutal ruler of the Bloodline, one of the most notorious mafia bosses in the underworld. But never in any of her 28 years has she seen him in person. Maybe somewhat in the same vicinity but never in close proximity, not like now where he’s sitting mere feet away from her.

He’s reclined back into the seat, thick legs spread, a blank expression on his handsome, bearded face. His features are sharp and predatory, yet there’s something about his eyes, a beautiful, light shade of brown that’s such a contrast to the cold blooded killer he is. Bulging, rippling muscles seem to be at battle with the plain black shirt he wears, and she notices his silky black hair is pulled back into a surprisingly neat bun of sorts. 

Solana knows that she shouldn't stare, but it’s hard not to. The man is objectively beautiful. He’s also staring directly at her. 

Panicked, her head drops down, eyes returning to continue counting the amount of beige swirls in her father’s persian rug. 

“Shut up…. ”Wes speaks from the other side of the room. He’s leaned up against the column near the bookshelf, lazily spinning around the pocketknife he never goes anywhere without. 

It’s the same knife that’s cut into her skin at least more than a couple of times over the years, drawing various amounts of blood depending on the extent of his anger.

Wes is always angry.

“I’m a man of my word, Mr. Heyman.” Solana doesn’t even need to be looking up to know her father has his hand over his chest, that faux sense of honor painting his harsh features. “I would never disrespect the Tribal Chief by wasting his time.” Solana’s throat goes tight. “My daughter is a worthy candidate.”

Candidate. Heir. Virgin.

It doesn’t take long with these major clues for Solana to piece together what they’re discussing, why her presence was required when never before has her father wanted her anywhere near one of his meetings.

Arranged marriage.

They’re discussing a possible arranged marriage between Solana and Roman Reigns. 

Her fingers flex and suddenly start to rub nervously against the soft material of her dress. Any appetite she had prior to entering the home is no longer present, vacated, replaced by a thick, heaping layer of anxiety.

Arranged marriages are far too common in this life. There’s not a week that’s gone by since she became of age that she doesn't hear about some union between two members of rivaling or partnering families. It's just how these things are done.

However, at 28, much past the typical timeline that daughters are married off, she’d accepted that that was not her fate. And she was okay with that, more than okay. Is okay with that.

Solana has a……complicated relationship with men, anyway. With people in general, but especially men.

The thought of her being paired off to Roman is so bad that it’s almost laughable. Their compatibility is in the negative range. He would never give her a second look, not even a first. A man like him needs someone who matches his prowess. She isn’t even on the radar.

And yet…..

And yet her father has somehow garnered interest, provided his counsel with her medical information “proving” her worthiness, and secured a meeting.

Circling back around to the medical report has her chest feeling tight and heavy. Lies. Her father has clearly paid off Dr. Boyd to write up whatever he believed needed to be said to increase his chances of locking in this deal.

She doesn’t know about the fertility portion, never really bothering or concerning herself with that part of her health. Someone has to have to have sex to conceive a child, and as far as Solana is concerned, that's never going to happen.

Not....not again.

But the virgin part is most definitely a lie. The physical exam certainly would have confirmed that.

And yet, the exact opposite was stated. 

Chills instantly move down her spine. Her father is perpetuating a fraud. Even more, he’s perpetuating fraud to a man who’s rumored to have a body count in the thousands. The same man he’s trying to pawn her off to.

This….this is not good.

It’s not good at all.

—----------

“She’s weak.”

That’s the first thing to leave Roman's mouth since they entered the Miller Manor, and it’s not announced until they're back in the SUV and on their way back to his estate.

Checking emails and clearing notifications that piled during the time his phone was tucked away, he continues. “Too young. Has no backbone. It’s embarrassing.” Roman’s tone, much like everything else about that pointless meeting, reeks of boredom. 

“Her father clearly has her on a tight leash,” Rikishi adds. He brings the handkerchief he keeps in his shirt pocket and swipes it across his forehead, dapping up the light sheen of sweat that’s already formed in the walk from the house to the SUV. “But, a very pretty girl.”

Roman cannot and will not disagree on that. She’s undeniably beautiful, but everything else about her is unappealing. And saying Miller has her on a tight leash is an understatement. She’s terrified of him. The brother too,  and Roman would take a solid guess that one of the two is responsible for the slightly faded but still visible bruise he noticed on Solana’s upper forearm. 

There’s some conflicted emotion present at that piece of information, though he mostly leans in one direction.

Women and children should be off limits. Specifically, women and children who aren’t already indoctrinated into the life to the point of training. Roman knows plenty of kids who completed their first kill while still in single digits and women who fight better than some of his men. For them, it’s free game. They’ve proven they can handle themselves.

Solana doesn’t fall in any of those categories, and he’d be shocked if she even knows how to hold a gun.

Thus, in his mind, she’s off-limits.

Nonetheless, his family is full of fighters, regardless of sex.

So there's the other part of him that can't understand her passivity, that believes she's just weak. 

The thought process generates a list of other, much more adequate options. “What about Belair?”

“Engaged to be married in the Montez family.” Roman rolls his eyes. That fucker is an irritating prick. Seems like a desperate match. 

“Cargill?”

“She….” It’s slightly comical for Roman, watching the older man work his hardest to explain what was inarguably a disrespectful rejection. “---is not interested.” 

A dark chuckle leaves his throat. “She said fuck off, didn’t she?”

“More or less.” 

Roman smiles. He would expect nothing less. Cargill is a beast of a woman, a sure fun time in the sheets if she would ever remove the stick from up her ass.

“If I may, my Tribal Chief….” When Roman remains quiet, he takes that as his cue to continue. “The girl may be young and docile, but that also makes her moldable. She will do whatever you want with no protest. Is that not a possible advantage?” Roman continues to look out the window, allowing Paul to add on, “and she will have no problem giving you an heir, which is inarguably the most important thing at this point in your life.”

“He brings up a good point, uce,” Rikishi chimes. “With your temper, it’s probably best for you to take a wife who is more passive than dominant.”

Logically, it makes sense, but the idea of a stuttering, stammering wife who can’t even maintain eye contact for more than a minute doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

“And as far as age, she’s closer to 30 than anything. You go for any older, and you might run into fertility struggles. This is the perfect age.” Rikishi’s crooked smile is followed by a small chuckle. “You ain’t so young yourself anymore, uce. Gotta have an even balance.”

There’s a difference between a balance and a child. Roman is prepared to say as such when Jimmy speaks, deciding to add his two cents from the passenger's seat.

“Look, Big Dog. All you need is for her to give you a kid, and you heard Paul. She can do that. Ain’t no need in making this bigger than what it is.” His insertion and contribution to the conversation ends up being valid. Granted, if he was anyone else, the delivery would have resulted in a maiming. But, this is Jimmy. He’s like a brother to Roman. Him and Jey. Hence their privilege with speaking so bluntly. “Shit, and did you see that body? Mannn, I’d never pull out of that.”

Also a valid point. Her dress was fitted around the chest area, accentuating heavy breast he could most definitely see himself palming as he fucked her from behind. The rest of the dress wasn’t as contoured, but it flowed against her shape when she walked in, and he could make out the curves he was certain she preferred to keep hidden. It’d been a while since he’d taken a woman to bed with a body like hers, a preference, but also not as easy to find in his world of fit assassins and killers who spend more time in the gym than anywhere else.

His latest set of women were on the slimmer side, moderate thickness, nothing like this girl.

But sexual desirability aside, her passivity indicates she’d be….that kind of woman. The woman who expects words of affirmation and quality time. A “gentle” kind of woman who’d want him to be sweet and patient in the bedroom, to make love to her. Roman is neither and none of those things.

He fucks, and he fucks hard. Subsequently, his wife should be cut from the same cloth. 

“Just….think about it, my Tribal Chief, hmmm?” Paul’s voice is tentative, laced with that tone that indicates he believes the decision should be made sooner rather than later. Granted, he values his life and standing in the bloodline, so he opts to not implement time constraints. 

A wise decision. 

“The scars.” Roman counted eight of them total, the one most pronounced on her face, slashing across her right eye and into the top of her cheek. The type of scar that’s embedded into the skin. And the soul. With a few of his own, it’s one of the first things he noticed. “What’s the story there?”

Paul quickly pulls out the portfolio from his briefcase, hurriedly flipping through papers when he settles on the one he’s looking for. “Ahhh….” Paul clears his throat, a telltale sign that’s he uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “2005. It was a hit. Her mother was killed in the attack. Knifing. Solana survived, clearly.”

Roman turns his attention from the passing cars to look at his Wise Man. For the first time since this whole interview process began, Roman is intrigued. “She was there?” Paul confirms as such and says something else, but Roman’s attention is out the window again, haphazardly watching the flow of traffic, assimilating and accommodating this new piece of information. 

This may be the one and only thing he can understand about this girl. Something…something he can relate to. 

Survival

One doesn’t go through something like that without coming out on top or letting it bury you. Unlike him, she’d clearly gone the latter route. Granted, just making it out alive, physically, he knows better than anyone, is a feat in and of itself.

“Give me her file.”

—-------------

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday. It was…..a day.

I’m not even sure where to begin, because I’m not sure what to even feel at this moment to be honest. Dad is trying to marry me off to a mafia head, which would be fine, except….except that head is Roman Reigns. He’s….he’s a monster, mama. Has no soul. Not that many men in this life do, but there’s something about him that’s even more terrifying than the others. To make matters worse, dad had Dr. Boyd lie in my medical report. She wrote that I’m still a virgin, I guess something about my hymen still being intact. Mama, that’s a lie. There’s no way that’s possible. 

Not.....with what they did to me.

I’m trying hard not to panic, because there’s no way Roman would go for me. He’s a monster, yes, but even Lucifer was God’s most beautiful angel. He’s a very handsome man. He would never want someone like me.

I don’t know any man who would.

“Solana.”

Solana quickly snaps her journal closed, using the pen in her hand to mark her spot. She’s met with the gentle smile of 73–year–old Meryl Jensen, a widow who’s worked at this library for almost forty years.

Solana still remembers the first day she met Mrs. Jensen. She was 6-years-old, and her mom was looking for a certain book she’d read about in the newspaper. A book that she hoped would further and better her English speaking skills. A native of Mexico, Nina Miller taught herself English by immersing herself into American literature, film, and music. 

Similarly, Nina taught her Solana Spanish by immersing her daughter in Spanish literature, film, and music. A secret among the two as an always hostile, paranoid Xavier “banned” Nina from teaching their daughter a language he couldn’t understand.

If he couldn’t control it, it was a no-go.

But it was when Mrs. Jensen was helping Nina locate her book, Solana noticed another book sitting near a kids display. Goodnight Moon.

If Solana tries hard enough, she can still remember the warm smile her mother gave her as she allowed her to check out the book, her very first "purchase" from the library. It started a love of books, aided by Mrs. Jensen who always provided appropriate recommendations to Solana and her mom.

Not that Solana tries to think too much about memories with her mother. They’re almost always ruined and replaced with the sounds of the butcher knife slicing into her mother’s body as Nina used the last of her strength to shield and protect her daughter from the violent assault that would end up taking her life.

Solana’s smile, however, does dim and her stomach drops when she realizes that Ms. Jensen isn’t alone. 

“This girl is always writing, I swear.” It’s only when the older woman refers to her book that Solana quickly closes up her journal, shoving it to the side.

Her eyes never leave Roman though.

And his certainly aren’t leaving her, even as Mrs. Jensen places a hand on his arm, laughing at her own joke.

Mrs. Jensen then squints her eyes and leans over the counter. “Child, did you fall again?” It takes a second for recognition to dawn. She’s then hit with the memory of her father backhanding her across the room, the force sending her to the floor after the dispersion of yesterday’s meeting. A truly pale punishment compared to some of his prior assaults. “My goodness.” Mrs. Meryl laughs, shaking her head. “An everyday klutz I tell you. I can’t think of one day she hasn’t come in here without some kind of mark from her clumsiness.”

Roman’s staring directly at Solana while acknowledging the older woman’s casual observation. “Interesting.” He then darts his eyes, offering a smile that, if one didn’t know any better, could be considered genuine. But Solana does know better. She knows much better. “Could you give us a moment?”

Of course, Mrs. Jensen obliges, saying something about hushing up some boisterous high school students on the first level before it’s just Solana and Roman. 

She has a million and one questions, starting with why the hell Roman Reigns is at her job. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. A man like him only brings about chaos and mayhem.

And death.

Swallowing and powering through the onslaught of anxiety, she starts off in an unsurprisingly soft voice, “if you’re looking for my father, he’s—”

“If I wanted your father, I would be speaking to him right now.” Roman’s interruption is dangerously calm, but Solana detects a hint of irritation. “You’re the one I want.”

Oh.

What in the world this man could want with Solana is beyond her. To make matters worse, Solana catches his gaze on her bruised cheek again. Makeup could only do much, but she's really starting to wish she went for heavier coverage. She drops her head, focusing on the denim of her jeans to avoid his burning stare. “I—umm.”

Solana’s body registers before her head does that Roman is lifting his hand to touch her. She responds accordingly, jumping back and away from the interaction. He chuckles, darkly, lowering his hand to his side. “That was some fall.”

Solana unconsciously brings her hand to hover over her cheek. “I’m—clumsy.”

“No, you’re not.” It takes a second for Solana to register his blunt comment and another for her to digest that he’s calling her bluff. “But, you are a terrible liar.”

He’s not wrong on either note, but she’s unsure just how to respond. “What—what do you want from me?”

Roman straightens up, and just the sheer size of him makes her swallow in fear. He’s a beast of a man, more beast though than anything else. “To make sure you understand what this is. It’s obvious Miller didn’t inform you about the meeting, and I won’t go into anything with anyone unless they’re fully aware of what they’re signing up for.”

If he’s waiting for Solana to acknowledge the first part of his reason for showing up at her job, he does a poor job waiting because he goes straight into his disclaimer. 

“I have no desire to be with you or any other woman for anything more than a sexual release. We’ll ensure my bloodline continues, but that’s it. Financially, you’ll want for nothing, and I can assure you, your clumsiness won’t be an issue. But, I will never love you, never see you as anything more than a business arrangement because that’s what you are.” He’s studying her facial expressions, reading all of the emotions oscillating around. “Do you understand?”

There’s a couple of different thoughts racing through her mind at this moment, but the dominant thought is wondering just what in the hell would possess someone like him to ever even consider someone like her? He is the definition of brute strength in all areas. She is beyond broken. There can’t be anything appealing about that.

But then….maybe there is. Roman knows she will not cause him any trouble, can recognize this brokenness and sees it as an easy way to get what he needs while still having the freedom to do whatever, and whoever he wants. It’s a bit of a win-win. 

And as far as the love aspect…..

Solana learned a long time ago that all of the fairytales lied. There is no prince that rides in and saves the damsel in distress. No one to swoop in and save you from the monster. It’s either killed or be killed, and her death already occurred on August 7th, 2005.

As ironic and fucked up as it is, Solana recognizes this is the best deal she’ll ever get in her life. 

With quite literally nothing to lose, she acknowledges him.

“I understand.”

—---------

The minute Solana steps into the house, she’s immediately shoved into the freshly painted wall behind her. A strong hand is on her throat, restricting her breathing.

“What did you say to him!”

Fingers foolishly grasping at the hand suffocating her, Solana tries to speak even with knowing that it’s impossible when she can’t even breathe. This only pisses her brother off even more. He bangs her head into the wall, causing the nearby pictures to shake. “Answer me, you stupid bitch!”

“Let her go, Wes.”

Xavier’s command is followed with a delayed acquiescence. Solana falls to the floor, coughing and gasping violently. She brings her hand to the back of her head to check for any blood, but her gaze is soon on the black leather shoes her blurred version is able to make out.

Solana cries out when her father grips her hair, yanking her head back and forcing her to look at him.

“We know Reigns came to see you at your job today.”

At some point in her life, Solana would be stunned and partially disturbed this, by how her father is aware of this piece of information.  But, this is no longer that time in her life. That time when she was naive enough to think that she could ever escape this life, ever leave and never look back.

She’d tried once. Foolishly. And it landed her in the hospital for two weeks. 

Solana can still remember her father’s dry, cracked lips pressing an insincere kiss against her temple as he said in the calmest yet coldest voice. “You ever try to leave this place again, and I’ll make sure to finish the job.” 

That was the last time she ever fooled herself into believing better waited for her.

“Now, what did you say to him?”

“I—I—nothing.” It’s not a lie but not the entire truth. She didn’t say anything that should have pissed him off. Then again, with a man as temperamental as Roman, anything and everyone could piss him off. Look at her dad and brother. “What did he—”

A phone ringing possibly saves, or just delays, the next set of hits. And even better, it’s Xavier’s phone.

He pulls it out of the back pocket of his pants, eyes lighting up. With a mischievous smile, he taps the screen twice, answering, “my Tribal Chief.” Solana’s eyes widen. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Cut the bullshit, Miller.” Roman’s deep, baritone voice is powerful and authoritative, even when he’s not even in the room. “You know why I’m calling.” And before her father can further upset him, Roman jumps straight to the point. “We have a deal.”

It’s been some time since Solana has been so thoroughly surprised by something she’s heard that she briefly loses awareness of where she is. But this….this is one of those moments. 

He can’t…..he can’t have said what she thinks he just said. Her acknowledging understanding was just a formality. She didn’t think he was actually considering marrying her.

Xavier’s smile is broad, signs of a man who just got exactly what he wanted. “Wonderful. We shall start planning.”

“Two weeks. The wedding will be two weeks from today.”

The tightening in her chest has returned. Solana is certain she’s about to start hyperventilating. This….this can’t be happening. 

Xavier and Wes share a look as he stammers with a response. “Uhh, yes, of course—whatever you wa—”

“Oh, and Miller?”

Irritation flashes in Xavier’s eyes, but he shoves it back for a polite acknowledgment. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“You or your boy lay a single fucking finger on her again, and I’ll gut you both where there’s nothing left to bury.”

Solana is almost certain there’s not a single one of them that’s not taken back by Roman’s icy warning. However, she swallows when her father’s fire gaze lands on her. She knows immediately she’s in for a matching bruise on the other side of her face.

Xavier laughs quietly. “That girl has always been so clumsy. I assure you—”

“One.”

Xavier is understandably confused by Roman’s single-word response. “Pardon?”

“Everyone gets one chance to lie to me. You’ve just used yours.” For the briefest hint of a second, Solana believes she sees fear flash in her father’s eyes. “Consider yourself warned.”

The phone disconnects. 

Silence settles over the three of them, but it doesn’t last. 

“I–I don’t understand.” Solana finds her voice, unable to stay quiet in a moment that’s completely just changed the course of her life. “I–I can’t marry Roman.”

For a lot of reasons. Many reasons that she can list out and defend if given the chance.

Solana is consumed by her thoughts and pending mental breakdown, so much so that she misses when her brother stalks across the room. He throws her back up against the wall, and the minute her eyes land on the silver, she’s frozen in place.

His grin is predatory and satisfactory as he murmurs, floating the knife in front of her. “It seems you’ve finally made your existence have some type of purpose.” Solana has to close her eyes. Just seeing knives sometimes brings her back to that night, and having one pressed against her….

Wes knows exactly how agonizing that is to her, hence his favorite method of torture. 

Swallowing, she weakly protests, “you—you told them I’m a virgin.”

That’s a major reason why. Her father has made her out to be some chaste, pure woman when she’s anything but. And to lie to Roman, of all people, about something like that.

They’ve more or less signed her death decree.

“No. Dr. Boyd’s medical reports confirmed you’re still untouched, and you’ll go along with it for however long is necessary.” Xavier’s rebuttal is smooth and to the point, like he doesn’t see the issue with his actions.

He never does. 

“Don’t you understand?” Wes lazily slides the knife up and down her skin, smiling at the terror in her face. It’s his greatest motivation, witnessing the extent of her fear toward him. “We’d let Reigns and his entire bloodline fuck you if that’s what it took to get what we want.”

Solana has no shock value at his words. Wes stopped caring anything for her the minute she got their mother killed, and it’s not as if she can entirely blame him. 

Nina would still be alive if not for Solana. It’s something she accepted ages ago, an undeniable truth. 

However, she does have to ask in a pained voice, “what do you want?”

Xavier supplies, taking a hit of his cigar she didn’t realize he was holding this whole time. “We want and will have control of the bloodline.”

If not for her current situation, she’d laugh. Control of the bloodline. That’s….that’s not even a dream. That’s a delusion. Still, there’s an undertone to his voice and words that alarm her. In a quiet voice, she protests. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

Solana hisses as Wes presses the knife deeper into her throat, nicking her skin and drawing blood. “No, it isn’t, not anymore. Because we have a way in.”

And it’s with widened eyes and a constricted throat that Solana finally understands what’s happening, what they plan to have happen. 

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “No….”

Xavier answers with a cruel, wicked smile. “You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is 'Cloud' for @itiscall

A warm breeze, a blue sky speckled with clouds, grass beneath them, and not an Imperial in sight. It is a rare perfect day. The Mantis’ engines cool behind them, campsite ready for the night ahead. Tents constructed, firepit built, Cal flops onto his back and stares at the sky, imagination running free. BD lands on his stomach, manoeuvres himself onto his back, and does the same.

Then he sits up, runs a scan, flops down once more and confirms there are no Cal-eating bugs nearby.

“Thanks, BD, that’s good to know.”

Footsteps approach a short while later. “Are you asleep?” Merrin asks.

“I don’t sleep with my eyes open,” Cal tells her.

“Yes, you do. You sleepwalk with your eyes open.”

Cal throttles a sigh before it escapes. “I’m cloud watching,” he says instead.

Merrin tilts her head up to the sky. “Why?”

“Because that’s what you do on days like today. Stare at the clouds and tell people what they look like.”

But don’t stare at the sun, BD advises.

“They look like clouds.” Merrin is not impressed.

Cal points. “That one, there. Looks like a Zeffo’s head.”

A decapitated one, BD muses.

“Oh, I see, you look at the clouds and decide the look like other things.” Merrin sits and lies next to Cal. “We did this on Dathomir, but not with clouds.”

“What did you do it with?”

“The swirls and bubbles in our potions.” She points. “That, there. A cauldron.”

Cal looks at the cloud. “Or a one-eared tooka.”

“Perhaps there is a spell I could learn that would allow me to shape the clouds,” Merrin says.

Cal rolls his head to look at her. Merrin keeps her gaze firmly on the sky. “Like controlling the weather?” he asks.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

BD thinks that sounds great, a real credit maker. Cal translates.

“Perhaps. I do not know of any such magick, but there is much I do not know.”

“That’s okay,” Cal says, looking to the sky once more. “There’s loads of Jedi stuff I don’t know either. Maybe one of them could control the weather. The Force is in everything. Maybe between us we can find a way to change the shapes of clouds.”

“For fun and profit?”

“Sure, if it’s on a world where the Empire won’t immediately hunt us down and kill us.”

“They spoil everything,” Merrin says. She points again. “There. That one is Greez.”

Following Merrin’s finger, Cal spots the cloud and bursts out laughing. “It really is him!”

“I heard my name!” Greez calls from where he’s prepping for lunch.

“You are in the clouds, Greez,” Merrin says.

“I’m in the what? Are you high? Cere, the kids are high again!”

“Look, Greez, right there.” Cal points. “That cloud. It’s you!”

Greez puts down the knife and looks. “That’s not me!”

Cere, sat in a chair, a recently rescued Jedi tome in her hands, leans back. “There is a definite resemblance.” She puts the book away and joins Cal, Merrin and BD. “Hmm, that one over there looks like the Mantis.”

“What? I gotta see this.” Greez bustles over, drops to the grass, and looks up. “Oh yeah! Even this planet recognises engineering brilliance when it flies through the skies and lands upon the surface.” Their laughter fills the warm air.

[positivexcellence]

The Boys boss knows a Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki reunion would 'break the internet': 'It's occurred to me'

In a new interview with Entertainment Weekly, Kripke confirms that, "yeah, it's fair" to say the plan is for the actor to join up on The Boys next season. He also coyly teased that he's thought about a reunion between Padalecki and Ackles

"The value of that is to break the internet. So we'll see whether it's right for the story," Kripke says. "But yes, it's occurred to me that putting those two in a scene together would destroy much of the world, and that's appealing."

Padalecki told Deadline that he spoke with Kripke about a role last week, saying, "I think at this point in my acting life, I only want to work on projects that I really care about or with people that I really care about, and obviously Eric and I are indelibly connected forever." He was firm in his desire to do it. He said, "The answer is yes," should the role work out.

Kripke now tells EW, "We both have now seen that it looks like our schedules will line up. I don't have the role for him yet just because we haven't cooked it up. We're still really early in the season 5 break, but it does seem like the planets are aligning. Barring any unforeseen disaster, it seems like it'll happen. Again, I don't know what the character is, I don't know if it's one episode or more, I genuinely know a total of zero about all of that. I'm not being coy. I really don't know."

There have been multiple Supernatural alums who crossed over onto The Boys, but Ackles appeared in a big way during season 3 as Soldier Boy, a World War II-era, Captain America-esque supe with a big connection to Homelander (Antony Starr). Kripke previously told EW that he was purposefully leaving the door open after that climactic season finale episode for more Ackles on the show.

"The old TV adage is like, never kill anyone unless you really, really have to. Never close a door, open a window," Kripke said at the time. "We'll all have to wait and see, but I can't imagine the series ending without Soldier Boy making another appearance." The actor then reprised Soldier Boy for a cameo in spinoff series Gen V.

The Boys season 4 currently belongs to Morgan, who arrives on the scene as Joe Kessler, a former colleague of Billy Butcher (Karl Urban) who shares his hatred for supes. "I just saw that his show got f---ing chicken. So I'm sure he'll get on it," Morgan told EW of Padalecki possibly joining the ranks. "I think that they're talking about it. Kripke, he'll bring him on. Jared's so f---ing big. He could just be a monster. He's Bigfoot, dude."

EW

[herejusttosufferalong]

I think I’m one of the few people willing to give A a lot of grace. I’m 23 myself too and God knows sometimes I really do stupid shit.

I think we should side eye L a LOT more. Not claiming your girlfriend and doing this hot and cold shit makes you look soooo shady. I think we all collectively would be way chiller if he just confirmed his relationship and claimed her as his official girlfriend, instead he treats her like his young and hot side piece. I would freak out on my partner if I got treated like that.

Also, I don’t know what the hell a 23 year old and a 31 year old would have in common, but thats just my opinion. Very icky!

I'm going to be real transparent here and I'm probably going to regret it.

When I was 21-24 yo I dated 3 different men, ages 32-38. They were all successful business men who paid for everything. They also made it clear what we were, casual.

That of course was fine by me as I wasn't looking to be tied to any of these men. They all had at least one kid by the way and I wasn't about to play stepmom.

There was always a massive power dynamic at play of course but I knew what I was getting into. I had a plan. All three connections were financially beneficial to me and helped me to achieve what I have today.

All three relationships ended on decent terms, one was even an initial investor in my first business several years after we parted ways.

I may have been young and naive and there may be unresolved trauma that will rear its head later on down the road but I do not regret the choice. I saw the opportunity for what it was, fleeting connections with financial benefits. Nothing more, nothing less.

Now that is my personal story. At that time in my life I was fairly mentally and emotionally stable. I knew what I was getting into and accepted it for what it was.

I have noticed a lot of people, myself included, say that A is in it for the fame, notoriety, connections, etc. I definitely believe this to be true. However, I don't believe that is all she wants out of the relationship. She clearly is seeking more, she wants to be claimed.

This is not just a transactional (business) relationship for her and that is where I have issues.

I'm 33 now and have been married for 7 years. I have grown so much and that is due in part to my wonderful husband, 34. I could not imagine looking at a 23 yo and thinking we could be anything more than casual. Interests, life/generational experiences, short/long terms goals etc. would not align or overlap.

So, I am trying to figure what a 31 yo man is doing with a 23 yo. He has a career and has navigated several long term relationships, one where they admittedly talked about marriage and kids often. Yet here he is running around with an (unemployed?) dancer fresh out of school who seems to have no real friends outside of his. She seems to lack personal identity, autonomy, and self respect.

Either he intended on this just being a casual, rebound type of situationship or he has always had a real interest in pursuing a relationship with her. The latter is hard to reconcile and throws up many red flags.

I'm also not saying a casual fling was a good idea either.

My personal experience can not translate over to everyone. We all experience things differently. What worked for me may destroy you and vice versa.

I know we pick A apart often and I probably won't stop, but just remember we can only speculate on her intentions and notions of the relationship between her and L.

[sleeplesssmoll]

Ugh imagine if one time for a mission vertin had the chance to be a bartender for a few months so she now has that skill imagine all the scenarios that would entail the very charming timekeeper in a bartender get up making drinks and charming all the ladies lol

Vertin would be a great bartender but maybe when she's older. No one wants to hire her because she is baby...although she's definitely familiar with consuming alcohol. Vertin is literally a delinquent who skipped her classes, roams the streets at night (2am raccoon energy confirmed by Vertin herself in beginning of game), talks to strangers, and drinks from time to time (but not hard liquor according to Lilya).

But she's so damn charismatic people forget that side of her lol. Both the problem child and the Suitcase dad. Love to see it.

An AU where an Vertin works as a barkeeper to help fund her travels because she really wants to be a photographer capturing precious moments in people's lives. The helpful bar keeper who listens to people's problems and offers advice. She gets to hear many stories as well as tell her own! I also agree with her being popular.

Sometimes I can see Regulus or Desert Flannel dragging Vertin to a store or shop to basically pull a Tennant and sweet talk for a lower price, but Vertin has no idea she's doing it. It's not empty flattery, its sincere...

For example, they have to buy ingredients for Sotheby and Vertin notices the young woman running the place has scars on her hand due to the sharp thorns from the plants.

I'd bet 700 Sharpodonties she holds her hand without even thinking about it and strikes up a conversation. Then the next time she visits, she'll bring something like hide gloves. She might share a portion of the stuff they grew in the Suitcase since the shopkeeper was always "nice to them" and gives them discounts. Literally has no idea the effect she has on the poor girl!

But the other crew members realize their Timekeeper has a talent and they abuse the hell out of it because she has no reason to reject them. She likes hanging out with them and going on errands.

This is a rare occasion where Vertin is the only one who doesn't know what's going on.

[moonselune]

Hi, would you consider writing about some of the guys (Gale, Halsin, Wyll, maybe Rolan?) reacting to their partner/tav telling them they're pregnant?

oooooo I like this a lot

Gale

The cozy warmth of your home library wrapped around you as you approached Gale, who was immersed in the glow of an arcane tome. He looked up from the pages, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"Gale, dearest" you begin, trying to steady your voice. "There's something I need to tell you."

Concern flashed in his eyes, and he closed the book, giving you his full attention. "What is it, my love?"

You took a deep breath, placing his hand gently on your abdomen. "I'm pregnant."

For a heartbeat, Gale simply stared at you, his face a mix of shock and dawning realization. Then, an elated smile spread across his face. "Truly?" he asked, his voice brimming with joy.

"Truly," you confirmed, smiling back at him.

Gale pulled you into a tight embrace, his happiness radiating from him. "By the gods' grace, this is wonderful news!" He released you and began pacing excitedly, his mind clearly racing. "I have been ready for this since the day I met you. I know exactly what spells will help them sleep, which bedtime stories will ignite their imagination… Oh, and we must start their magical education early!"

You blinked, astounded by his readiness. "You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"Of course," he said, grinning. "I have so much to share with our child. Imagine teaching them about the Weave, guiding them through their first incantations, and watching them discover the wonders of magic. Oh it's going to be extraordinary!"

Gale's excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "You already sound like the perfect father."

He pulled you into another embrace, his voice softening with emotion. "And you, my love, will be the most incredible mother."

Astarion:

The night was quiet as you approached Astarion, who was lounging by the fire in your underdark estate, a book in hand. He looked up, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as you sat beside him.

"Astarion," you began, your heart pounding, you could tell that he could tell that something was wrong but ever the charmer, he let you speak, "I have something important to tell you."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He snapped his book shut and looked at you gleefully "Oh? What might that be?"

Taking his hand, you placed it on your stomach and looked him in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Astarion just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "You must be joking."

"I'm not joking," you said firmly, your eyes locked on his.The disbelief slowly melted from his face, replaced by a look of bliss and panic.

"You're serious," he whispered. "We're going to have a child?"

"Yes," you said, "We are having a baby, my love.... is that okay?"

"Is that okay?"Astarion's eyes sparkled with joy, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "This is incredible!, my darling We're going to have a miniature me running around! Oh how delightful."

His excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "That's what you're excited about?"

"Of course!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Just think of it – a little one with my charm, my wit, and of course, my good looks."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled with happiness. "You are incorrigible, Astarion."

"And you love me for it," he teased, kissing you softly, you felt yourself melt into it, relief and love poured into it. He then slowly pulled away, "But truly, this is rather excellent news I could have... have ever received." Aatarion, rested his forehead against yours, and you can see his eyes begin to water." We will have a family, all ours, and I will make sure they have everything they need."

Your heart melted at his words, and you hugged him tightly. "I know you will, Astarion, my love. We'll make sure they have a wonderful life."

Wyll

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the garden as you approached Wyll, who was sparring with a practice dummy. You tried to tell him that the practice dummy did not compliment your peonies and roses but he argued otherwise. His movements were fluid and precise, but he stopped immediately when he saw you approaching with a radiant smile on your face.

"Wyll," you called out, trying to keep your excitement in check. "Can we talk for a moment?"

He sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow, giving you his undivided attention. "Of course, my heart. What’s on your mind?"

"Well, it's not so much on my mind rather than on me.." You murmured before taking a deep breath in. "I'm pregnant."

For a second, Wyll stood frozen, his eyes widening in shock, and you panicked, was this too soon? Was he not ready? But then, a brilliant smile broke across his face, and he let out a joyous laugh. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Yes, I am," you confirmed, your own smile growing wider as you rested your hands on your stomach. "The healers confirmed it this morning."

Without warning, Wyll swept you up into his arms and spun you around, his laughter ringing through the air. Your skirt billowed in the morning sun and you wished you could hold onto this moment forever.

"This is the best news I've ever heard!" he exclaimed, setting you down gently but keeping his arms around you. "We’re going to be parents!"

He kissed you deeply, joyfully and when he finally pulled back, he was beaming. You laughed, cupping his cheek, relishing in the delight of it all.

"I can't wait to tell everyone," he said, practically vibrating with excitement. "We're going to be parent! Parents!" Wyll then turned away from you and cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling into the sky. "We are going to be parents! I'm going to be a father!"

"Slow down, Wyll," you laughed, your own heart swelling with happiness as you walked over to him, pulling on his arm.. "We should probably tell the others, first, - and gently! No shouting.."

"Of course, of course," he agreed, but you could see he was barely able to contain himself, oh he was so going to shout. "Oh, my father – he will be so thrilled! I am so thrilled! I am going to be a father!"

Wyll's joy was infectious and you both immediately set off to share the wonderful news, by the end of the day Wyll had completely lost his voice, though that did not stop him from holding up a piece of parchment that declared he was going to be a father.

Halsin:

You found Halsin in his study, the warm glow of candlelight illuminating his broad frame as he poured over ancient texts. His healing skills often had him delving into herbal remedies and nature’s secrets, but tonight, you had something far more personal to share.

"Halsin," you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of you. "My heart, what brings you here at this hour?"

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your hands resting on your belly. "I have some news. I'm pregnant."

A warm smile spread across Halsin's face, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost... knowing. "Pregnant, you say? That's wonderful news!"

You narrowed your eyes playfully, placing your hands on your hips, you pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You already knew, didn't you?"

Halsin chuckled, reaching out to pull you into his lap, you allowed it but included some mock resistance. Halsin pressed a tedded kiss to your neck.

"I might have had my suspicions," he admitted, his large calloused hand coming to rest on your stomach. "As a healer, certain signs are hard to miss. That and the fact you keep stealing my honeycomb when you think I am not looking, and the constant throwing up and nausea and the-"

"-Okay! Okay, I should have realised sooner, I get it." You playfully scolded him, tapping his chest. "But you didn't think to tell me sooner?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement and affection. "I wanted you to discover it in your own time, to have that moment of joy for yourself." He now kissed your forehead tenderly. "And now that you know, we can share in this happiness together."

You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was looking at you with such love and admiration. "I suppose I can forgive you," you said with a mock sigh, resting your head against his broad chest.

Halsin's hand gently caressed your stomach, his touch filled with reverence. "You will be a wonderful mother," he whispered, his voice filled with certainty. "Our child will be blessed to have you."

"And they will be blessed to have you as their father," you replied softly. Halsin's embrace tightened around you, his love and warmth enveloping you completely.

"We will raise this child together, with all the love and care they deserve."

As you nestled in his arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and joy. The future seemed bright and full of promise, with Halsin by your side.

Rolan:

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over Sorcerous Sundries as you found Rolan sorting through a stack of spellbooks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but he looked up and smiled when he saw you approaching.

"Hey, what brings you here?" Rolan asked, setting the books aside and giving you his full attention. "Isn't there trouble you should be getting yourself into so your darling lover can come and save you?"

"For once, trouble found me- well us, and it's all my darling lover's fault." You smiled nervously and crossed your arms.

His smile faltered slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. "What is it? What did I do?"

You uncrossed your arms and reached out and took his hands in yours, looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Rolan just stared at you, his face going pale. "Pregnant?" he repeated, his voice shaky. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, squeezing his hands gently. "Yes, I'm sure."

Panic flashed across his face, and he started to pull away, running his hands through his hair. "But… how? I mean, I know how, but… are we ready for this? What if I'm not a good father? What if I mess everything up?"

You stepped closer, taking his hands again and holding them firmly. "Rolan, listen to me. You will be an excellent father. You are kind, compassionate, and intelligent. Our child will be lucky to have you as their father."

He looked at you, his eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. "But what if I can't do it? What if I don't know how to be a father?"

You smiled reassuringly, cupping his face in your hands. "We'll learn together. We have each other, and we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this."

Rolan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "You're right. I can do this. We can do this."

You kissed him softly, feeling the tension in his body begin to ease. "Yes, we can. And we'll be a wonderful family."

Rolan finally smiled, though it was still tinged with a bit of nervousness. "I guess I should start reading up on parenting then, huh?"

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yes, but we have plenty of time. Right now, let's just focus on us."

Rolan nodded, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Thank you for believing in me," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, holding him tightly. "And I can't wait to start this journey with you."

I can picture Rolan just freaking tf out, bless him. Hope you all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

[callsign-rogueone]

glad it was you

Bodhi Durran x reader (darling) words: 2.2k 🏷: no book spoilers, set pre-FW (year of the revolution). mentions of parental death (reader's and Bodhi's -- Calldyr executions), lots of crying on everyone's behalf, Bodhi is a sweetheart :( bb bo and darling are awkward lil cuties, more husband!bo coming soon maybe (I really want to continue this storyline... so much glorious fluffy angst planned for them pre-Basgiath), proofread with intense brain fog so uh. yeah

June 628 

You wake to the feeling of a warm hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. You hum sleepily, turning to see your parents sitting on the edge of your bed.

Something must be wrong, very wrong, if they’re here right now, waking you up, but they don’t seem panicked — so this emergency, whatever it is, must not fall into the same category as the house being on fire.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, sitting up. 

“There’s something we need to tell you,” your father says softly. “Your mother and I have been involved with the revolution, helping them transport weapons and gather information, funding them through the company.”

You blink, still trying to wake yourself up, and to process the information. Your parents, involved with the revolution? You’d known that Xaden’s family was involved, and Bodhi’s, but… 

You suppose that explains how your parents met them.

There’s a sinking feeling in your chest. “Why are you telling me this now?” you ask softly, even though you already know deep down — this is a conversation that would have happened in broad daylight, if it could, yet they’d woken you up in the middle of the night, and they’re fully dressed, ready to go out… 

“We’ve been discovered. If Riorson’s scout is to be believed, then we have about an hour before Navarre will be at our doorstep.”

Your heart drops, your mind racing. “We could run — to the summer house, or leave Tyrrendor entirely, and…”

He shakes his head, taking your hand gently. “We will not spend the rest of our lives in hiding. We have given so much to this cause, this fight — we will not stop now, and we will not turn our backs on friends.”

The look in his eyes tells you that they’ve both accepted this, that they’ve seen it coming, that they are as prepared to be carted away to gods-know-where, to whatever cruel fate that Navarre will give them, as they can be.

You cling to them both tightly, realizing that this may very well be the last time you can do so.

“You’ll be okay, dearest,” your mother soothes, fixing your sleep-mussed hair — always searching for perfection, even at a time like this. “You’ll be the lady we raised you to be, and Bodhi will protect you. He’s a good man. I hope that you can learn to love him.”

It all makes sense now. They’d rushed to marry you off because they knew this was coming, and needed to secure a future for you before… this, whatever it will be. You don’t want to imagine it.

The look in your father’s eyes is enough to confirm your suspicions. “I’m so sorry, princess. We did everything we could to keep from being discovered — and that meant keeping this from you, until now.”

You finally start to cry. He hasn’t called you princess in more than ten years, when you ran to their room during a thunderstorm and begged to sleep in their bed with them, where it was safe. You certainly feel like that scared little girl right now, not the lady they want — need — you to be.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Laurents don’t stand idle.”

Your father holds in a sob at the words, the reminder he’d given you dozens of times over your seventeen years — ranging in meaning from go socialize with the party guests to speak up for what is right. 

“Our dear girl, all grown up,” he whispers, shaking his head. “We love you so much. I’m sorry we didn’t say it often enough.”

Your mother continues stroking your hair. “We left everything to you, as you’ll be of age in a few months. Look after your brother and sister.”

Oh, gods, the twins. They’re still asleep in their rooms down the hall. Is it better to wake them, so they can say goodbye, or to let them have one last peaceful slumber, unknowing of their parents’ fates?

“We’ll tell them,” she says softly. “Not the whole truth, but… that we’ll be gone, for a while. And we might not be back.”

Your head is still spinning, but you shove down the swirling thoughts and pull back the covers. “I’ll go with you — to talk to them. I should be there.”

You throw a silk robe atop your nightgown, not bothering with slippers as you follow them down the hall for what may very well be the most difficult conversation of your life.

------------------------------------------------------

one week later

You manage to gather the twins into your arms, letting them hug your legs and hide their faces in your skirts. “Don’t look,” you say softly. “Hold on to the stones. They’ll protect you.”

You grip your own tightly, holding it in a fist that you rest on your younger brother’s back as he shakes with sobs.

You have never met the rest of these kids, only Xaden and Bodhi, but your heart breaks for all of them — there must be over a hundred here, from teenagers to infants. You pray that some of them are too young to remember this moment. 

Someone guides you back by your upper arm, turning you to face him — Bodhi. He lays a hand on your back, the other on your sister’s.  

You know what is going to happen in a few seconds, but for a moment all you can focus on is the warmth of his touch, the look in his eyes as he pulls you closer, silently tucking your head into his collar.

He hardly knows you, but he is holding you as tenderly as one would a lover, shielding you from the sight behind you and wrapping you in warmth and security.

You close your eyes just before you hear the screaming — then it stops. You nearly crumple to the ground, knowing what that silence means, but he holds you steady, keeping you upright as you tremble.

There’s a muffled sob from your left hip, distracting you from your own grief. 

They’re both still covering their eyes, as you’d directed. Thank the gods.

You settle onto the ground, not caring about the rocks that dig into your legs nor the dust that covers your skirt as you embrace your siblings, letting them cling to you and cry into your chest.

“Just keep looking at me,” you tell them, sniffing away your own tears. “We’re okay.”

There’s the sound of shifting gravel as Bodhi kneels down beside you, one hand still on your back, smoothing up and down idly. 

You don’t know how long you remain there, the four of you wrapped up in each other, crying wordlessly.

Evidently too long, as a soldier comes by to shoo you away. How much more cruel can they be, to force you to watch your parents be killed, and then chase you off like animals?

You glare at him, but know better than to say anything.

Bodhi hefts your sister into his arms, letting her cling to him and sniffle into his shirt collar.

You take your brother's hand, momentarily stunned by the sight of your arm, the spiraling black pattern that runs from your wrist past your elbow. You can see a matching one on your sister, and another peeking out from Bodhi’s sleeve.

“We’ll be okay,” you whisper down to your brother, as much of a reassurance for yourself as it is for him. “We have each other.”

------------------------------------------------------

another week later

“She’s in the sitting room,” Anna says quietly, gesturing to the left. 

Bodhi thanks her, entering.

He hasn’t been here since that party your parents had hosted, the one to celebrate your engagement — that had completely blindsided you both.

The house looks different now, dim and bare; walls that were once covered in paintings now decorated only with rectangular patches of darkened wallpaper, furniture missing, likely having been taken away for auction.

You sit not in the two great chairs your mother and father would always occupy, rather at the end of a small couch, your sister asleep with her head in your lap as you stroke her hair absentmindedly.

He supposes you’re the lady of the house now. You look the part, poised and refined even without an audience. He’s never seen you with your hair up like this before. It looks remarkably similar to your mother’s, a neat and simple updo.

He can barely spot the black swirls peeking out from the top of your gloves — the fabric extends past your elbows, a bit longer than is fashionable, but you’d likely chosen them to hide the mark you’d tried so hard to wash away. You’d scrubbed your skin until it cracked and bled, to no avail; this is magic, that can’t be undone with soap and a washcloth.

You finally notice him standing in the doorway — with nearly all of the staff gone, there is no one to announce his presence. “Bodhi,” you greet, flushed. “I’d stand, but...”

He gives you a soft smile. “It’s okay. We don’t need to be so formal anymore.”

He has a point — you are legally married, and with your parents gone…. You motion for him to sit across from you. 

“How are the twins?” he asks quietly, nodding toward your sister.

You gaze down at her — she finally looks peaceful, for the first time this week. You wonder what she’s dreaming about.

“They’re sleeping through the night now,” you answer, “but she’ll hardly let me out of her sight. I think she’s afraid I’ll be next.”

He exhales, sitting with the admission for a moment. He himself is old enough to understand the situation, but a child… he can’t imagine what it must be like for those even younger than the twins.

“How are you?” you ask gently. 

“Managing,” he answers, truthfully. He looks like he hasn’t slept well, deep creases under his eyes and exhaustion dragging his shoulders down. 

He takes a breath. “I wanted to talk to you about… us.”

You smile at him softly. “I will not hold you to the terms decided for us by our parents, if that’s what you’re asking. I know neither of us had any say in the matter.”

You can’t tell if the fleeting look on his face is disappointment or relief. You haven’t been able to label many of your own feelings lately, haven’t had the time to.

“If you want to have it annulled, I understand. But even if we don’t have a… traditional partnership, I’d like to be there for the three of you. I enjoyed what little time we had together, and I hope we can become friends.”

“I’ll leave the decision to you. But I’d like that,” you say quietly. “It would be nice to have a friend — someone who understands.”

He realizes that while you and your sister are dressed in mourning black, there are no condolence cards on the table, no flowers... It had taken a few minutes for someone to answer the door, and the woman who had looked genuinely surprised to see anyone.

There will be no callers, no cards, no flowers. You’re entirely alone. Your family’s allegiance to the revolution has ostracized you. You’ve been shunned.

“Of course,” he says warmly. “I’ll continue to write, but… maybe I could start coming by once a week? Or whenever you want, just… just to talk?” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, wondering if he’s overstepped.

“I appreciate the offer, and I’d like that very much, but we’re going to move in with my grandmother next week,” you say quietly. “In Tirvainne.”

That explains all the missing pieces, and the lack of staff — you’re slowly letting go of everything, and everyone, before you leave.

“That’s where Xaden is moving, too. So I’ll have twice the reason to come visit,” he says with a soft smile. 

You return it, but there’s still a profound sadness in your eyes as you do. “You’re a good man, Bodhi. I’m glad it was you.”

He looks a little flushed at the comment, but takes it in stride. “I have no doubt in your ability to care for them, but you shouldn’t have to do it alone. If you ever need anything, I’m only a letter away,” he says softly, standing to take his leave.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Your sister still hasn’t roused, finally sleeping soundly — you won’t disturb her, lest this be the only sleep she can get. She deserves the peace, anyway. 

So you stay in place, not having moved an inch since Bodhi’s arrival a few minutes ago, watching him leave.

You wish he would have stayed longer, but what would you have done if he had? What would you possibly have discussed, if not the events of the last week? Would talking about anything else be a dishonor to your parents? It certainly wouldn’t feel right to enjoy anything right now, but sitting with him in complete silence would be preferable to being alone with your thoughts.

You run your fingertips over the cover of the book you’d brought down as a distraction, but had been unable to pay attention to, your mind otherwise occupied.

In another life, marrying Bodhi would have been nice. You’d have a calm, comfortable existence, with charity functions and needlework and nights at the ballet, walks along the river in summer and ice-skating in the winter when it freezes over… and eventually, a house full of children to do it all with. Your parents would come to visit every month, and spoil them rotten. The two of you might have even fallen in love.

Maybe it’s selfish of you, but you’d pick that story over this one, a thousand times over.

[anser-crystallan]

Here's how eldritch!Ruby can still win

Emprie of Death spoilers below:

Honestly I quite like Ruby's mother being Just Some Guy (gn). I was dreading her being some super entity of death or whatever.

What I don't like is the 'oh everything we've been building up over the season is just confirmation bias and self-fulfilling prophecies' handwave.

The Doctor has been obsessed with mysteries before. He has time travelled to the object of his obsessions before. That is literally the premise of the entire fucking show and Ruby's situation was new and weird to him. It's totally normal but also interesting enough that Sutekh gave up on centuries of sulking around eating popcorn to actively investigate.

:sceptical:

I don't want to make Louise a secret alien, that's boring. But you know who else was Just Some Guy? The piano teacher who summoned Maestro.

As a anxious fifteen-year-old mother, Louise decided the best way to find her baby a safe home was to leave her in the door of a church. I don't think it's a stretch to imagine she'd ask a higher power to keep her daughter safe. And with the Doctor drawing in gods from before the universe, it's not impossible that something answered.

That would explain the night being a little glitched, Sutekh and Maestro being so invested in it.

(Because there are still plot holes. Why does the Doctor remember two versions of that encounter? Why, if the information was part of a genetic census, did the ambulance that was able to indentify Ruby not have access to it?)

I don't think this is where the show is going with this.

I do however think 'Ruby has a patron god' is a very fun concept to be playing around with.

[tihanaackerman]

Oh,Levi😭🤍

Can I ask you something Levi...

Levi: sure

Me: why did you choose me, what is it that you see in me...from all the others?

Levi: hey, what's that for? 

Me: I want to know...

Levi: look...before you started noticing me, I followed you everywhere like now...(except to the toilet because it's your privacy and it would be disgusting if I did that)

me : hahah true 

Levi: only now you know that I'm next to you..but then..uhh, it was difficult to reach you, to even find a way to confirm my presence to you. and the way I saw you expressing your love for me attracted me., I'm not as good at expressing my feelings as you are, but you really mean a lot to me. To be honest, I was more afraid that you would never be able to see me, and that you would not accept me as I am.

Me: do you mean that you are invisible to others?

Levi: I mean that, because it was hard for me, okay imagine that you are in my place, suddenly you become invisible to other people...no one sees you. And you do your best to get noticed.

Me: I'd feel like shit

Levi: maybe I'm a fictional character in your universe Tina, but in mine I was a human like you, not some material and I'm actually trying to ignore the fact what I'm here and you let me to getting closer to you, you believed in me... and I know you're struggling with the fact that you think you're making it up and I know that it's not easy for you either, but deep down you know you can't fake it. I really love you. *starts to laugh*

me: (close to crying) what's funny? 😟

Levi: I'm really get attached to someone.

Me: (crying) oh god...😭

Levi : hey... it's okay, (trying to hug me) *🙁🫂* thank you...

me: for what?🥺

Levi: for accepting me as I am. 

[slaymitchabernathy]

Anything at all

| “If I let him do this to me, what else will I allow? Anything, anything, anything." - Catherynne M. Valente |

“I mean, why on earth would she cut her hair short? It looked perfect when it was longer. I’m surprised that Coriolanus let her cut it in the first place.”

The words spoken by Persephone and Clemensia cause a single tear to roll down Soarynn’s cheek. She knows that she shouldn’t be listening to their private conversation, but until they leave the bathroom, she’s stuck listening to their hurtful words.

If only they knew. If only they knew that their childhood friend was the one who hacked away at her hair.

She listens to them switch topics, berating some other poor woman who hasn’t done a thing to them. It’s a moment of relief when they finally leave the bathroom, leaving Soarynn alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

Her hand comes to rest on her protruding stomach. Her baby is alive and well inside of her and she’s beginning to show true symptoms of pregnancy. The morning sickness has been the worst of it so far.

There’s nothing quite like waking up and immediately running to the bathroom to throw up one’s dinner from the night before.

Coriolanus hasn’t seemed too pleased by her sudden nausea since it usually leads to him being woken up but he truly has no one to blame but himself for this.

“At least you don’t have to hold your hair back,” he had said to her one morning once Soarynn had brushed her teeth. He always seemed to know where to hit her the hardest, and her hair had been a particularly sore spot.

But Soarynn has done her best to look past it and to look forward to the birth of her child. They’ve yet to find out the gender or even hear the heartbeat, but after taking two tests in front of Coriolanus and having their doctor confirm it, Soarynn is indeed pregnant.

There are certain parts that she’s enjoyed to this pregnancy, shopping for the nursery has been her favorite part by far. She can’t help but buy all the adorable little stuffed animals she sees on the shelves.

And Coriolanus has been more than happy to cart her around, proudly showing off his hard work and sharp-shooting skills by resting a hand on her stomach. Leave it to him to take all the credit.

Still, appearances have to be upheld and Soarynn is swift to blink any remaining tears away before pushing her way out of the ballroom stall. She should get back to the gallery before Coriolanus grows suspicious. He already took all of her travel documents away, claiming that he was keeping them safe.

Soarynn knew the real reason behind him holding them because he was worried she might try to run off with their child and flee to the Districts.

Soarynn can’t imagine trying to make it by herself in the Capitol, let alone the Districts. As much as she hates to admit it, Coriolanus is all she has.

When she goes to wash her hands in the sink she glances up at the mirror for a moment. It’s still a shock to see her short hair, she’d never cut it before and it’s taken some getting used to. Thankfully, it’s grown down to her shoulders rather quickly, but it’s still short in her eyes.

She wonders what her child's hair will look like. Blonde for certain. And blue eyes, a true Snow. There's probably some test out there that can predict these things so Coriolanus will be sure to have her take one or three.

Soarynn forces a smile onto her facial features before leaving the bathroom and braving the crowd of people who are attending the art gallery tonight. The Hunger Games just commenced which means large gatherings and any reason to celebrate and flaunt one's wealth.

Soarynn hates it.

She hates the spectacle, the pageantry. It's children killing each other, not horses racing to the finish line.

The loud chatter of the crowd is what truly pulls Soarynn back to reality and out of her pregnant daze. She doesn't even have to look for her husband since he always seems to know where she is at any given moment. But instead, she finds Felix Ravenstill looking at a particular painting that is available for purchase.

Soarynn knows how much Coriolanus values the approval of his peers and how important it is to him that she makes an effort to speak to them, so she approaches Felix. "Quite a sight," she says, nodding at the large canvas.

The painting itself is of a wooden ship battling large ocean waves in the middle of a dark and cloudy storm. She thinks it's pretty which means Coriolanus will think it's hideous.

Felix nods and points at the ship, "You know they used to take those out to go fishing in Four, before the war that is." Soarynn's eyes widen as she imagines braving the ocean in a rickety wooden ship. After the war lots of things were replaces rather than repaired so the people in the Districts could be more productive. At least that's what the President says.

"It must have been quite perilous," she concludes. Neither of them says a word as they appreciate the painting and that is greatly appreciated by Soarynn who's grown used to how annoying Coriolanus and his friends can be sometimes. They never seem to stop talking to her no matter how quiet she is. But Felix is rather quiet compared to the rest of the group.

"I wanted to offer my congratulations by the way," he adds, glancing down at her stomach which is barely visible through her green dress, "you disappeared the night it was announced." Soarynn swallows down the bitter taste that comes with remembering that night at Heavensbee Hall. Where the truth came out and in the end it cost her a good six inches of hair.

But she simply gives him a dazzling Capitol smile, "Thank you, we're very excited." Felix chuckles and shakes his head, "Leave it to Coriolanus to be the first to have a child. I bet he's gunning for a boy." Undoubtedly, Soarynn thinks to herself.

In all her time of knowing Coriolanus Snow, he's never mentioned wanting a girl. So it makes perfect sense that Soarynn would love a little girl, or a boy for that matter. But she knows what will come with a boy, insurmountable pressure and expectations. At least with a girl, he won't be half as invested until she's older.

A hand rests on her lower back and she doesn't need to look to know that it's her husband. "There you are darling, I was starting to think you ran away." His words, his cold and teasing words have the intended effect on her and Soarynn stiffens in her spot, "Well you found me," she says sweetly, finally looking up at him.

Coriolanus is all too smug in the expression he wears, and he's been wearing it for the past month since finding out about Soarynn's pregnancy. He knows she's trapped, that he's won. The only way Soarynn might be able to pull one over him is by having a girl but it's up to fate at that point.

Coriolanus smirks and then turns to Felix, rendering Soarynn as invisible until spoken to again. She's grown used to it, the showing off, the silent competition amongst men who are desperate to land on top.

But it seems that Snow has landed on top once again.

Coriolanus solidified his status among the elite men when he married her, the youngest and most willing of the wives, and now that she's pregnant, he couldn't be happier.

Both men begin discussing a topic that has nothing to do with her, so Soarynn simply stays by her husband's side looking pretty and acting interested. All she really wants to do is go home and sleep but they won't leave for hours from the looks of it.

You wanted this, she reminds herself, you wanted to marry him, to become a Snow. This is the price and now you're paying for it

꧁ ꧂

Two Months Later

"It looks like you're having twins."

Soarynn nearly blacks out when hearing those words leave the doctor's mouth.

Twins? Is that even possible?

And of course, Soarynn knows that twins exist. Coriolanus has some old classmates that are twins if she remembers correctly but she had mentally been preparing for one baby, not two.

One look at her husband tells her that she's not the only one surprised by this news. Soarynn swallows before speaking, "You're sure it's twins?"

Coriolanus takes a closer step to the screen that is currently displaying what appears to be two fetuses, "Yes, you're positively sure she's having twins? There could be a mistake with your equipment," he suggests to the doctor who shakes his head. "Yes, I am quite certain. Here is the head of your first twin," he points at the screen, "and here is the second head. I know this can come as quite a shock, but once they're here I can assure you that you'll be absolutely taken with them."

Soarynn hears what he's saying but she refuses to believe him. How can she take care of two children? Be a mother to two children all while still pleasing her husband? It's like she can see the anger ruminating off of Coriolanus who is very quickly coming to terms with the fact that he will no longer have his little wife all to himself.

And she smiles.

"I'm sure we will be," she says, wearing such a genuine smile, the first one in nearly a year in fact. It's almost comical how quickly Coriolanus and his plans have flipped on him, how his deep-seated urge to get her pregnant has entirely backfired on him.

Coriolanus scoffs and glares in her direction before addressing the doctor again, "Can you at least confirm the gender?" The doctor shakes his head, "Not yet. In about a month or so we'll be able to see their genders."

Soarynn's smile drops at the reminder that she could be carrying two boys, two innocent children hurtling into a world of unknown pressure and expectations.

She'll just have to pray that she's having two girls.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn gasps as Coriolanus pounds into her. Her eyes roll back, her back arches off the bed, her nails dig into his shoulders. It's all an act, perfectly calculated to ensure that he's happy at all times when fucking into her.

Coriolanus looks down at her, his piercing blue eyes boring into hers as he continues to fuck her, "You seemed pleased," he states. Soarynn's facade of indifference drops for a moment as she furrows her eyebrows. He rolls his eyes and lands a deep thrust into her, causing her to let out another moan, "You seemed pleased that we were having twins," he elaborates, "one might even argue that you were pleased with my own displeasure."

He knows her better than she thought. Soarynn thought she did a good job at hiding her emotions concerning the twins once they left the doctor's office. She remained quiet and by his side as they strolled through the Capitol streets, now bundled in coats for the cold October air.

Soarynn bites her lip while contemplating how to respond but it's rather difficult with Coriolanus fucking her. "Your pleasure is my pleasure," she gasps, repeating the words he's drilled into her brain over the past few months, "I only want you to be happy darling. I want...I want to give you sons, heirs." She nearly believes her own lies and it seems that Coriolanus is quite taken with them, especially since she tacked on that last word.

Heirs.

A promised future for the house of Snow. What Coriolanus has worked so hard towards now won't mean anything if he doesn't have a son to give it to in the future. And that's when the reality truly hits her, that if she should have two girls, he'll just get her pregnant again, and again, and again.

It seems that Coriolanus is already aware of that as he smirks down at her and shakes his head in a disapproving manner, "Finally put the pieces together hmm?" He grabs her jaw in his hand, hard enough to bruise her skin, "I'll tell you this once darling, and only once. I don't care if I have to cut my heir out of you myself, I will have an heir no matter how many times I have to fucking get you pregnant. Do you understand?"

Just like that, he has the upper hand once again. Soarynn feels foolish for thinking that she might have an advantage for once but she doesn't. She's simply a baby machine, a concubine, a walking womb for her husband to do what he pleases with.

Tears form in her eyes while that realization dawns upon her and Coriolanus seems more than pleased with her reaction as he presses a kiss to her lips, "As you said moments ago, my pleasure is your pleasure. And I'm going to take great pleasure in you granting me a son."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn's knee bounces up and down as she sits in the chair, in the doctor's waiting room. They find out the genders today. Soarynn has spent the past month and a half trying to convince herself that she's going to have two boys. Or at least one boy. It's a fifty-fifty chance but she's reasoned that because she's having two babies that she simply has to have a son.

One glance at Coriolanus tells her that whatever the result is truly won't matter to him, he's going to get the son he wants no matter what it takes or how many children it takes.

Soarynn's nights have been plagued by horrible nightmares about childbirth, child loss, and everything in between. Nightmares about her having ten little girls and not a single boy, about her growing into an old maid and still being forced to try for a boy.

Her life has been ruled by the promise and hope of a son.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow?"

Soarynn's head snaps up at the nurse standing in the doorway, the nurse whose life is not being ruled by fear and anger. Coriolanus smoothly rises from his seat and offers her his hand just like the gentleman he pretends to be. Soarynn gingerly takes it and stands up, a wave of nausea rolls over her. Her morning sickness has only worsened and she's now plagued with back pain and tender breasts.

Neither have stopped Coriolanus from fucking her.

They follow the nurse down the hall to the same room they were in when finding out that there would be two Snow babies instead of one.

While Coriolanus us chats with the nurse, a mantra, a chant, a prayer repeats in Soarynn's mind.

Be a son, be a son, be a son, be a son, be a son, be a son, be a son.

The nurse leaves the two of them with the promise of the doctor coming to see them soon and Soarynn fiddles with the hem of her skirt.

"Stop fidgeting."

She looks over at Coriolanus who's watching her from his chair, his legs spread out wide, his arms crossed in front of him as he leans back, comfortable as can be. She knows that the sick twisted part of him enjoys the pain she's in, the anxiety she feels, the physical pain she's been feeling from this pregnancy.

He enjoys it because he's the cause of it.

At least her hair is longer now, finally going past her shoulders.

Soarynn lowers her head after a moment, not wanting to challenge him and then be punished for it later on. "I'm sorry." She hates to apologize for something she shouldn't be ashamed of, but it's better than fighting him on it. A knock on the door announces the doctor who comes in with a small smile, "Here we are at last," he greets.

Soarynn doesn't return his smile but she does stand up to push her skirt down and remove her blouse. She can feel Coriolanus watching her and wonders if he wishes they had gone with a female doctor instead of a man. Either way, it's the least of her problems.

"Are you two excited?" He asks while preparing the equipment. Soarynn glances at her reflection in the small mirror on the wall, she's white as a sheet. "We're thrilled," she whispers.

The doctor hums and approaches her with the gel she's associated with a bundle of nerves and anxiety. "It might feel a little cold," he wants before applying the gel to her stomach. Soarynn is truly showing now, her skin stretching long and wide over her twins.

"Here we go."

Soarynn braces herself as she looks at the black screen and then sees two distinct white shapes that are apparently her children. Coriolanus rises from his seat and walks over to her side, resting a hand on her bare shoulder. Soarynn knows his touch is meant to be anything but comforting but she welcomes it nonetheless because it grounds her.

"Can you see the genders?" Coriolanus asks the doctor, a more curious side of him peeking out. Soarynn has heard one too many conversations between him and his friends over what the genders will be.

The doctor nods and zooms in on the screen and Soarynn holds her breath.

"A girl and a boy."

Soarynn lets out a relieved laugh and she feels tears pooling in her eyes. A boy. And a girl. An heir for their household and a girl for her.

Coriolanus squeezes her shoulder and she looks up to see him beaming proudly, the bloodline is secured. "Well done darling," he tells her, placing a gentle kiss on top of her head. Soarynn finds herself leaning into the sweet gesture and remembers a time when she thought gestures like this were actually genuine without motives behind them.

"You're certain we're having a boy?" She asks the doctor who gives her a reassuring nod, "Yes Mrs. Snow, it's quite clear that you'll be having a girl and a boy."

It feels as if a weight has been lifted off of her chest. Soarynn tunes out the doctor for the rest of the appointment since she knows Coriolanus will be listening. Once they're free to leave she thanks the doctor one last time before following her husband out of the office and onto the Capitol streets.

"We'll need to celebrate," Coriolanus says to her, wrapping an arm around her waist, his hand resting on the side of her bump, "go out for dinner tonight and then truly enjoy ourselves once we get home."

Soarynn finds herself nodding along with him and actually looking forward to tonight's celebration. Normally she'd agree out of necessity but today they truly have something worth celebrating. Even if it means going home and having sex. She might even enjoy it tonight.

She smiles up at him, "That sounds wonderful."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn finds herself wrapped up in her husband's strong embrace as she lays naked in their bedsheets. For the first time in a very long time, she enjoyed having sex with him. After her father's death, sex was simply transactional, a way to keep him at bay and happy.

But tonight he showered her with praises, put her pleasure above his.

She knows it won't last, that it's most likely going to be a one-time thing but she's going to soak up every moment she can with the man she one thought truly loved her.

His fingers trace lines up and down her bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She knows he's still awake, that he'll ether wait for her to go shower or fall asleep so she can't help but ask him a question.

"Coriolanus?"

"Hmm?"

Soarynn bites her lip once she realizes how silly and childish her question is but that's what he was getting himself into when he married her. A girl who was filled with silly thoughts and was still very much a child at heart.

"Are you proud of me?"

His fingers stop in their tracks and Soarynn worries that she's ruined such a good day with such an unnecessary question. "I'm pleased with you," he says, his voice stern yet calm. He's not mad. She'd know if he was.

And that's good enough for Soarynn, to have her husband be pleased with her. "We still have a long way to go," he reminds her, "there's much more to discuss about their upbringing."

Soarynn sits up when hearing those words and the sheets slide off of her naked body, bearing the front of her to Coriolanus who eyes her breasts for a moment before looking her in the eye, "What do you mean?" She asks, slightly flinching when his hand comes up to hold her face.

Their sweet, tender moment of bliss has evaporated. She can feel it in the air.

His fingers press into the soft flesh of her cheek, "I mean that we need to discuss how to raise the boy. He's my heir, he'll inherit all of this one day." Soarynn furrows her eyebrows when he only speaks of one of their children. Having twins means having a packaged set.

"But we're having a little girl as well," she reminds him, "don't you plan on having a hand in raising her as well?" She hopes he doesn't, she hopes he'll leave both of their children alone and let her nurture their dreams but Coriolanus Snow is a cruel man. He raises his eyebrows and his fingers slide down to her chin where he takes hold of it, "I plan on raising both of my children the exact way I was raised. Disciplined and obedient. You have to use a firm hand to guide them Soarynn, I can't afford for a son of mine to grow up soft and sheltered."

Soarynn can see her world falling apart in front of her. Her own children, the ones she's carrying, the ones she will give birth to won't even be hers.

"No."

The word leaves her mouth before she knows what she's saying and anger flashes across her husband's face. "What did you say?" If Soarynn was smart then she'd bow down and apologize, take whatever punishment he can think of, and move past this like nothing happened.

But this isn't nothing. It's her children's future.

"I was raised differently than you were," she tells him, her voice never wavering, "I was raised to see the good in people, to treat them with kindness, to always repay good deeds. I won't let you poison our children's minds with your beliefs."

His grip on her chin tightens and she can see a storm behind his eyes, "I will do whatever I want to do and you will obey me as my wife."

"Then let's make a deal." It's a horrible idea, but it's the only thing she can think of to save at least one of her children from a harsh upbringing. The other child...her sweet baby boy, well, she'll do what she can.

"A deal," Coriolanus repeats, clearly perplexed by her proposition. Soarynn nods, "Yes, a deal. You raise our son, I raise our daughter. By the time they're eighteen, we'll have a darling daughter who's kind and polite and a charming son who's the spitting image of you."

It's a horrible thing to suggest, to choose one child over the other. Soarynn knows that it makes her a horrible mother but a horrible mother wouldn't make a deal at all, they'd just accept their children's fate.

She watches Coriolanus mulling it over, weighing out the pros and cons to her proposition. He's a businessman through and through and this deal is the path of least resistance. Finally, he decides.

"Alright darling," he drawls, "you have yourself a deal."

Soarynn doesn't revel in her victory, instead, she leans in to kiss him to seal this deal and keep him happy. Their moment of bliss is gone and she's back to being miserable yet mendable. Coriolanus returns her kiss and his hand travels down below her stomach but despite how sore she is, she doesn't stop him.

She'll do whatever it takes to protect her children.

Anything at all.

| Part 2. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[todayisafridaynight]

journalists underestimate the magnitude of my addiction and how far i'll go for the bit

[collectate]

i watch bridgerton solely for eloise and benedict so my reaction to this season was mainly just oh colin and penelope are pining that's nice for them eloise has a new lesbian situationship fork spotted in a kitchen etc let's see what benedict is doing. and then it turns out benedict is hooking up with ELEANOR GUTHRIE BLACKSAILS???

[nicoscheer]

[agni-ashes]

so i watched jimmy’s finale and uh. i’m thinking. so. since the old sheriff started treating sheriff jimmy like a kid/teenager i’m like. what if sheriff jimmy was legit a child. so when the revealing potion revealed that he’s short it’s not that he’s a toy it’s that he’s a literal child. idk but now i’m thinking that if sheriff jimmy was like idk 10 years old and ooh hoo hoo hoo i’m crying now. how much has he done?? how much responsibility has he taken, that little guy built an empire and made deals and took a stand against all these powerful adults who made fun of him and beat him down sometimes and rejected him and refused to believe that he was strong, that he was capable, that he was a good sheriff. and he still did his best. and. oh my god. they gave him a kid- he had to take care of his new charge- and he himself was just a kid. i’m going to cry.