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jensengirl83 · 2 days ago

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Pining In The Pines

Dean x reader

Word count-3843

Warnings- Angst, some fluff

Summary- Y/N and the boys have to go on a hunt in her old hometown. She's not happy to go home, and especially not when Dean makes a comment that brings up bad memories. How will she take it? And will Dean be able to make it right?

A/N- This fills my Secret Passageway square for @jacklesversebingo

First, I suck at summaries 😂 Second, this fic is a little self-indulgent. I've written it about where I'm actually from and the stigma about the people in this area. I really hope you like it!

“So, get this,” Sam started the conversation as he looked at his laptop.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in her chest. It never failed. When he found a hunt, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘So, get this.’ That’s how she and Dean knew to stop and pay attention. He had something they needed to hear. So, she tried to contain her laughter and give Sam the attention he wanted.

“Y/N…Do you have to laugh every single time?” Sam groaned but didn’t wait for a response, continuing with what he wanted to say, “There’s supposedly been a Wendigo spotted in Morehead, Kentucky. Homeowners caught it on their security camera for their driveway.”

“Morehead…Isn’t that close to where you grew up, sweetheart?” Dean wondered, looking over at the huntress beside him.

“It’s a few counties over, but yeah, it’s close enough. Did you say there was footage?” she questioned, leaning forward to look at Sam’s laptop as he spun it around for her and Dean to see.

Her breath caught in her throat as Dean put his hand on her lower back as he leaned forward to watch the video. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had fallen in love with the eldest Winchester. But how was she supposed to be around him, living in the bunker with him, and not fall head over heels?

It was true that he had a temper, could be a real grump, and be downright mean sometimes. But, over the years, she’d learned that his temper flared most when someone he cared about was in danger. He would be grumpy when the weight of the world had gotten almost too heavy to bear, and he tried to push it down and keep it bottled up. He was mean when he thought he needed to push someone he cared about away because he was the one putting them in danger. To her, that was just the sign of a man who had been hurt, a man who loved deeply, one who cared so much that the thought of losing someone he loved was unbearable. So, how was she not going to fall for him at some point?

But that’s as far as it went. She would never admit her feelings. She couldn’t. The likely rejection would be her end, and she would have to leave the bunker. She’d rather pine for him in tortuous silence than not have him in her life at all. So, as always, she shoved her feelings back down, focusing on the screen in front of her, and prepared for the hunt she knew was coming.

“Earth to Y/N,” Dean nudged her, clearly seeing she was in her own little world.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m watching,” she rolled her eyes, trying to hide that she was fantasizing about the green-eyed Adonis.

“Where was that pretty little head of yours?” he teased, his words making her heart ache. If only he really thought that way.

“Just thinking of what I’ll need to pack. ‘Cause we’re clearly going to Kentucky, am I right?” she lied, hoping they would buy it.

“Yeah, we have to check this out. I’ve never heard of a Wendigo this far east before,” Sam answered, getting Dean’s attention away from her. Thank Chuck.

“There’s a lot of things in the Appalachian mountains that no one knows about. Trust me, you don’t want to be caught in those woods alone after dark,” she shivered at the thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark?” Dean tried to tease, but she gave him a stern look that made him think twice.

“You should know that I’m not scared of the dark. I follow you into some of the darkest, creepiest places on earth. But, I grew up there, Dean. It’s not even just the monsters you have to worry about. I mean, there are bears, mountain lions, wolves…” she trailed off, not wanting to mention some of the crazy people that live in those mountains.

“Okay, okay,” Dean huffed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “I get it.”

“You better. You have to keep your head on a swivel while we’re in the woods. I’d hate to have to save your sorry ass from the real-life Yogi Bear,” she winked, “Because your ass will be the picnic basket.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed at her sarcasm as Sam laughed. Even though she was crazy in love with him, she could give him shit right back. And to be honest, she thoroughly enjoyed frustrating him. As she saw it, it was payback for him making her love him in the first place. She continued to chuckle as she went to her room to pack. Y/N didn’t like the thought of going home. Too many memories she’d like to forget. But duty calls, so she was packing her bags for the long drive to southeast Kentucky.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I highly doubt there’s a Wendigo here. They don’t stay in the wide-open woods,” Dean complained while trekking through the mountains.

“Dean, do you not know anything about the topography of Kentucky?” Y/N asked, shaking her head in annoyance. He’d been in a mood all day.

“Yes, sweetheart. I spend all my free time studying the layout of a state I rarely ever visit,” his sarcasm made her want to smack him in the head.

“Well, dear,” she said just as sarcastically, “Kentucky is known for its underground cave systems. You know, Mammoth Cave. One of the biggest cave systems in the world…”

“Of course! Because spelunking is high on my to-do list!”

“Oh! Look at him, Sam. He’s using big boy words like spelunking. I’m so proud of you, Dean!” she half shouted at him. Trying to keep her voice down so as not to attract unwanted attention to whatever was out there.

“Guys! Knock it off. We’re here to kill a Wendigo. Not for you two to kill each other!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“She started it,” Dean whined, acting like a child.

“Fuck off, Dean,” she growled as she walked ahead of them. Leading them to the caves she knew were close.

Y/N ignored the bickering between the brothers behind her as she made her way through the trees. She loved Dean, but today, she thought about leaving him in one of the caves they found. He’d been an ass since they woke up at the motel, and she couldn’t figure out what had his boxers in a bunch. They’d had to share a bed, but she didn’t think he’d be that pissed about that, but she wouldn’t put anything past him at that point. But, whatever it was, it tempted her to make him Wendigo lunch.

“Slow down, Y/N. We’re not born and raised hillbillies like you are. It’s taking us a little longer to navigate this hellscape,” Dean yelled, grumbling under his breath about her getting too far ahead.

Y/N froze. That was the last straw. Yes, she’d been born and raised in the area, but that word…Hillbilly. She’d been trying to get rid of that stigma since she left the mountains, and now hearing Dean, the man she loved, call her that derogatory term was too much to take.

“Let me tell you something, asshole! Yeah, I grew up here, but I’m not a fucking hillbilly! I’ll have you know not everyone who lives in Appalachia are backwoods, uneducated, rednecks! So, take that term, and shove it straight up your ass!” she screamed, her anger boiling over into dangerous territory.

Before either of the boys could say a word, a guttural, terrifying growl tore through the darkening woods. Y/N spun around to see what they’d been there to find. The Wendgio was only about thirty feet behind her, moving in quickly. Sam shouted for her to get behind him, breaking her out of her stupor. Once she’d cleared his line of sight, Sam grabbed his homemade flamethrower, flicking his lighter to ignite it, but nothing happened. He tried again but to no avail. Y/N’s screams tore through the night air…

“Run! Follow me!”

The boys were quick at her heels as she weaved them in and out of the trees and underbrush. Dean couldn’t help but think about how impressed he was at her agility in that terrain. He could tell she’d grown up here and knew her way around, which brought him to his next thought. How guilty he felt for saying what he had. But now was not the time to apologize. Right now, he had to concentrate on not losing sight of her and getting shredded to pieces by the monster on their tails.

“Here! Guys, hurry!” she shouted, an old moonshining cabin in her sight.

Once she reached the cabin, she flung open the door, waiting for the boys to enter before slamming it shut, silently praying that the rickety lock would hold just long enough to devise a plan.

“What the hell happened back there?” Dean asked, hands on his knees as he panted for breath.

“I don’t know! The flamethrower has never not worked before,” Sam answered with the same labored breathing as his brother.

“Well, we can figure that out later. Now, we need to figure out how to stay alive!” Y/N yelled, panic starting to set in.

“Calm down, sweetheart. We’ll be okay,” Dean tried to calm her down, but she was still too angry with him.

“Don’t! Do not ‘sweetheart’ me! You had no right to talk to me like that!”

“Look, swe- Y/N, I’m sorry. But I don’t understand why that made you so mad,” Dean spoke as he looked around the cabin for something to use as a makeshift weapon.

“That was a shit apology, Winchester. Just…just don’t speak to me until we get out of this mess,” she groaned, then mumbled, “If we live through this mess.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted, getting her attention, “We are getting out of this. Don’t talk like that.”

“Can you tell me how you plan to get us out of here? Cause I don’t see another way out except through the door that Wendigo is now trying to beat down!”

As she walked toward Dean, her foot almost went through the floor, or at least it felt like it. She stopped, pushing down with her foot one more time. The bounce under her foot had her laughing loudly, and the boys looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Dean spoke as she started to rip the rug she stood on out of the way.

“Care to tell us what you find so funny?”

“This!” she continued to laugh in relief as she pointed to the hatch in the floor where she’d been standing, “It’s our way out!”

“How do you know that? It could be just an old cellar,” Sam asked, walking over to inspect what she’d found.

“Well, as Dean so nicely put it, us hillbillies would dig secret passageways to transport the moonshine back and forth without the police seeing them. They almost always lead to an abandoned coal mine or cave opening. Sometimes other cabins.”

“Y/N, come on, I tried to apologize. I didn’t know it would upset you that much,” Dean threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Well, it did, and…” she started to argue when Sam interrupted them.

“Maybe you two can finish this fight once we know we’re not going to die? Let’s go!”

Y/N and Dean simultaneously rolled their eyes. Sam would have told them they were two peas in a pod if they weren’t in such a hurry to save their asses. Y/N was the first one down the ladder, explaining that she’d be their best bet for not getting completely lost underground, and neither brother disagreed. Dean followed, with Sam on his heels. Once they were underground, Y/N led the way, and the boys were impressed with how well she could get around in the tunnels.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Dean was going to ask if she really knew where she was going, but before he could open his mouth, they turned a corner and could see a light up ahead in the tunnel's ceiling. Y/N was climbing the ladder through another hatch before Dean knew what was happening. Maybe her nickname should be Squirrel instead of him, he chuckled to himself. As the last brother made it out of the tunnel and into another cabin, Y/N slammed the hatch, pushing an old, heavy piece of furniture over it. Luckily, this one was still quite furnished, with beds still in the bedrooms and an old couch in front of a fireplace.

“This is home until morning,” she stated, looking around, finding, albeit dusty, pillows and blankets in a closet.

“Better than nothing,” Sam shrugged, walking into one of the bedrooms and shutting the door, leaving only one bedroom for her and Dean.

“Looks like we’re sharing again, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Nah, take the bed. I’ll take the couch,” she whispered, not looking at him. Damn, she was still mad.

“I’m not taking a bed and putting you on an old debilitated couch, Y/N.”

“It’s fine. My adrenaline is still too high to sleep. Besides, I’ll keep watch so you can get some rest. You have to drive us back to the bunker tomorrow. I can sleep in the car.”

“Y/N…”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. Please, just take the bed. I’m too tired to argue,” she almost begged, wanting to be alone.

“I thought you said you weren’t tired?” he smirked, trying to joke, but she wasn’t having it.

“I’m mentally exhausted. I just need time to myself to wind down. Now, please, go get some sleep so we can get the hell out of here in the morning,” she pleaded, the look on her face breaking his heart. He had really hurt her with what he said.

“Okay, sweetheart. Good night,” he said dejectedly, knowing it would be a sleepless night. His guilt would make sure of it.

“Night,” she replied, turning her back to him, sitting down on the couch, staring out the window, never glancing his way. The click of the door made her wince as Dean went to bed.

Sleepless night was an understatement. Dean’s eyes didn’t close once as he lay there thinking how wrong the day had gone. He and Y/N had argued since their feet hit the floor that morning. Him being an ass was the reason for it. He hated fighting with her, but when he woke that morning, she was curled up at his side, her head on his chest. Usually, a man wouldn't complain about having a beautiful woman wrapped around him, but it tends to put you in a pissy mood when it’s a woman you love but can’t have.

Dean was ass over tea kettle for Y/N, but he’d never tell her that. She deserved so much better than being saddled with a man who could barely stand his own company most days. He drank too much, and he wasn’t good at communicating how he felt. He knew that. Sam had told him many times he needed to learn to open up, but he didn’t want to burden anyone with the shitshow that was his mind. Especially her. So, as with his other emotions, he pushed his love for her deep and tried to ignore it. Lately, that hadn’t been working so well. As he lay there telling himself all the reasons he couldn’t have her, a sound caught his attention. He tiptoed to the door, cracking it slowly, and what he saw had him rushing out the door.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he quizzed her as he rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. Her sobs were what he’d heard.

“I’m fine, Dean. Go back to bed,” she hiccuped through her tears. She couldn’t tell him the full truth.

“Obviously, you are the opposite of fine. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, placing her chin between his thumb and index finger to turn her face to him, “Is this about today?”

“Partially,” she admitted, trying to turn her head back to the window, but his grip wouldn’t let her.

“Y/N…I’m so so sorry. I know I was being an ass, but I had no idea it would hurt your feelings like that. Can you explain to me why? I’m not trying to fight. I honestly don’t understand.”

“I’ve tried to get rid of the ‘hillbilly’ stigma since I left this place. It's always the same thing whenever someone finds out where I’m from. There’s this image people have about people from the Appalachian mountains that just aren’t true. We’re not a bunch of ignorant, uneducated people who live deep in the woods and never come out. Unfortunately, movies and TV shows have depicted us in such a bad light that most people think that’s all we are. And when that term comes from the man you…” she gasped, catching what she almost said. But Dean caught it as well.

“The man you what, Y/N?” he asked, holding his breath. Was she about to admit what he thought? Maybe, just maybe, he could try to be better, be the man she deserved if she loved him too.

“Dean…” she whimpered, trying to turn away from him again, but he wasn’t letting her go now.

“Uh uh, say it. Say it, Y/N,” he pleaded, his eyes staring into hers, “Were you going to say the man you loved?”

“Yes! Okay? I was going to say the man I loved!” she shouted in frustration as she jumped from the couch, finally breaking Dean’s hold on her, “Now, go ahead and tell me that you don’t see me that way, tell me that you don’t want me, so I can prepare to pack my shit and leave when we get back to the bunker. Because I can’t stay there and see you every day after your rejection. I just can’t.”

Dean stood and walked to her as she stood staring out the window, her back to him after her confession. He touched her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. Her look of sadness and despair nearly ripped his heart from his chest. He thought having his heart literally ripped out would hurt less than seeing her like this. He slid his hand up from her shoulder to cup her cheek. A tear trickled down her face as she closed her eyes at his touch, and he swiped it away with his thumb.

“Is that what you want me to tell you, or do you want me to tell you the truth?” he asked softly, waiting for her to open her eyes, which didn’t take a split second. Her eyes went wide.

“What are you saying?” she uttered shakily.

“I’m saying that I love you, too, Y/N. I have for a long time.”

“But, but,” she stuttered, trying to find her words, “You were so mad at me when we woke up this morning. That isn’t how someone acts when they love the person in bed with them.”

“Sweetheart, I was mad because I opened my eyes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen curled up against me, and all I could think was how I wanted it to mean something, and I didn’t think it ever would. If I’m being honest, you could do so much better. And thinking I’d never have you that way pissed me off because I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you, Y/N. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and I fall asleep picturing you beside me. I know I’m not a good man, and there’s someone out there that could and would give you more than I’ll ever be able to, but if you really love me, I’m going to be selfish for one time in my fucking life and ask you to give me a chance. I can guarantee that I’m going to piss you off and probably hurt your feelings again, but it will never be intentional. So, what do you say? You want to give us a shot?” He poured his heart out to her, leaning his forehead against hers as he waited for an answer.

“Dean, contrary to what you believe, you are a good man. You love with your whole being and fiercely protect those lucky enough to get that love. I know you don’t believe you deserve it, but you deserve the world, Dean Winchester, and I’d be honored to be the one to try and give it to you.”

“Really?” he asked with a million-watt smile, leaning back to look her in the eye.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she returned his smile, both sighing in relief.

“Come here,” he growled, pulling her face to his and kissing her passionately.

The kiss was better than either had imagined, and they both poured the love they felt for the other into it. They stayed that way until the need to breathe became too much, pulling away with smiles. He pulled her into a hug, laying his head on top of hers. They stayed silent for a few minutes before Dean broke the silence.

“So, you want to move your stuff into my room when we get back?

“I don’t know, Dean,” she pulled back, chewing on her bottom lip, “I really think we need to take this as slowly as possible. Make sure that we’re going to last.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he agreed, his heart clenching at the hurt he felt.

“I’m just joking,” she laughed, poking him in the ribs, “You’re not going to get rid of me now!”

“Damn it, Y/N! That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, not finding her joke all that funny.

“I think I’m hilarious,” she smirked up at him.

“You’re something, alright. Now, how about we both try to get some rest? We have a lot of packing to do when we get home,” he suggested, leading her toward the bedroom, “You have a lot of shit. I don’t know where we’re going to put it all.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned, “Well, we could always get rid of your vinyl collection to make room.”

“Hey! Those are fighting words,” he growled playfully, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip.

“Bring it on, old man,” she cackled as his eyes shot up his forehead in shock.

“I’ll show you an old man!” he said in faux anger, chasing her into the bedroom.

All that could be heard as the bedroom door shut was the laughter and playful banter between the new couple, and that’s how it stayed for the years to come.

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trippinsorrows · 3 days ago

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looking through your eyes + twenty six

authors note: this chapter almost entirely covers grief. be prepared.

cw/tw: angst (discussion of grief and loss)

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

chapter suggested listening: "i hope you dance" by gladys knight, "lift me up" by rihanna, and "dancing in the sky" by dani and izzy.

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 9k

Solana still vividly remembers the moment she was told her mother was dead. Not the moment where Nina died, where she took her last breath. No, that devastating memory is forever attached and molded to Solana’s recollection, something to never escape her, despite her best efforts to dump it into the sea of the forgotten.

No, the moment she was told is something different, somehow colder and heavier.

She can still recall the sound of beeping machines, blurry, amorphous figures melting into something less abstract and more corporeal. The smell of nothing, sterilization that was quickly permeated by the overwhelming scent of her father’s cologne.

For some reason, that was more prominent and noticeable than the tube down her throat, preventing her from clearly speaking. It didn’t stop her from trying though. Because even with her barely cognizant state, with the fact that she wasn’t still fully aware of where she was and what occurred, her focus was on one person.

Her mother.

That was the intended word, Solana’s muffled moans and groans, fighting against the tube. The pain that shot through her little body while trying to move it wasn’t enough to stop her from asking.

Mommy

It’s something that’s always sat with her. Influenced her in many ways.

It’s also something that helps her understand a fraction of what Roman is going through right now, the feelings he might be experiencing. Everyone is different. She knows this. But, she also knows the feeling of loss. Of feeling alone.

And she swore to him he would never be alone.

Fetu is gone, yes. But, he’ll always have her.

It's what she keeps in mind as she and Jimmy arrive at Fetu's place and move to enter.

Solana had a feeling she would be walking into a difficult scene, but she hadn’t the slightest clue the severity of said difficulty.

“Oh my God….”

It’s bedlam.

Chaos and destruction all around her from the minute she and Jimmy open the front door and walk in. Furniture turned upside down, shattered shards of glass littering the floor all over, dents and scuffs on the wall, indicating objects being thrown.

Solana even spots a few holes she can tell weren’t caused by objects.

They were caused by fists.

But while Jimmy stands beside her, face not hiding his shock and slight horror at what lies before them, Solana’s similar expression stems from a different space.

It stems from how devastated her husband must be right now to cause such destruction.

“I’ve gotta find him,” Solana says, swallowing and moving to maneuver past the glass when a cautious but firm hand grabs her arm.

“Solana, let me find him.”

She doesn’t need an explanation as to why this is being proposed. The answer is written in red lettered concern all over his face.

She shakes her head. “No.”

Jimmy sighs, dropping his hand to gesture to the wreckage around them. “Solana….look at what he did.” She has. Hard not to. “He’s clearly not in a good place right now.”

“Would you be?” She challenges. “Put yourself in his shoes, Jimmy. In my shoes.” Voice breaking, she discloses. “You don’t know what it’s like to unexpectedly lose the one person who meant the world to you….and to not be able to say goodbye.” Solana sniffles, forcing out a shaky breath. “I know what he’s feeling right now, which is how I know what he needs, and it’s not you.”

Jimmy is silent. A small part of her understands and appreciates his concern, but he has to understand her side of things too.

Roman may be his cousin, lifelong friend, borderline brother.

But, Roman is her husband. Her person. Her better half.

Her soulmate.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassures, reaching for his hand. “What I need you to do is find Ava.” She motions to the destroyed room. "We don’t know if she was part of this as well.” Because despite only one meeting, Solana can tell that Ava has a strong personality just like Roman. Loved Fetu just as much as Roman.

She has to be just as distraught.

Jimmy counters, “let me try to clean some of this up first.”

“No.” Solana shakes her head. “I can handle that.” Because cleaning up after men following outbursts is something, sadly, she has plenty of experience with. Countless times her father and brother would destroy rooms and force her to clean up their mess. So, certainly, she can do the same for a man whose actions are fueled not by rage.

But pain.

Loss.

Grief.

Especially when that man is her husband.

“Solana—”

“And I—I want you to leave after that.” His eyes double in size, prompting her to explain. “Roman…..he’s gonna need some time. I don’t….I don’t think he’s going to want to be around anyone, even you.” Maybe even me. “I want to give him what he needs.”

“Solana—”

“I’ll be fine, Jimmy.” There’s not an ounce of her that believes she won’t. “I just need you to find Ava. Help her. And get back home, because I need you to keep Dulce for us.” She swallows, adding in a small voice. “He’s gonna need a couple days.”

More than that. Much more. But for now, it’ll have to do.

Jimmy still looks unconvinced.

But, he eventually agrees, leaving to find Ava who had sent a vague text saying she needed air.

Nothing more.

It's how both Jimmy and herself suspect she's gone for a walk in the surrounding woods.

And as soon as he's gone, Solana is on the move, instantly going up the stairs.

Each step taken feels like there’s a ton of bricks attached, weighing her down, pulling her back and trying to keep her from exactly where she needs to be. It’s all mental and emotional, but it’s not enough to keep her from pressing forward.

She passes Fetu’s room without sparing a glance, both for her own mental sake and knowing that’s the last place he’d probably be. His room would seem the most logical place to start to look, but she also knows that when one is deep in the throes of grief, there is no place for logic.

So, she goes through each room, bypassing the bathrooms and Ava’s bedroom. Again, another place she just can’t picture him being.

It eventually leaves her with two options: the last guest room and his room. Given the cracked door for the latter, that’s the route she chooses.

Solana’s heart is slamming repeatedly against her chest, her eyes watering prematurely at what she knows will be a heavy ass sight. But still, she powers through those emotions, bypasses her own personal sentiments and focuses on him.

A gentle knock followed up with, “Roman?” Nothing. She’s not surprised, but she at least would like him to know it’s her about to enter and not someone else. Something tells her his reaction would be different—very different—if anyone else was trying to “disturb” him right now.

Solana gently turns the knob, partially unsurprised to also find the room in a slight state of disarray. Not nearly as bad as the living room and entrance but still indicative of turmoil.

A lamp lays shattered near the door to the bathroom, a picture knocked off the wall, the TV also down on the floor. Nothing major beyond that, but even if so, it wouldn’t capture much—or any—of her focus. No, that’s because it’s already spoken for.

“Roman….”

She sees him. Slumped on the floor, one long leg outstretched, other leg up, extend arm resting on his knee. Closing the door behind her, she rushes over to him, again unsurprised by how he doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.

Instantly, those watery eyes are upgraded to silent tears streaming down her face. “Ro…..” Carefully leaning down beside him, she finds herself reaching to push back some of his hair that’s not neatly tucked into his everyday bun but instead wild, hanging, unruly.

A perfect representation of what he must be feeling.

She shakes her head, “I’m so so—”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

There’s not a part of her that’s taken back by his words: hollow, empty, stoic. If anything, it’s expected.

She expected this kind of reaction to her presence.

Shaking her head, Solana keeps her voice leveled. “I’m exactly where I should be.” Her gaze travels to his hand, a small gasp leaving at the blusied, lacerated, bloody state of his knuckles. “Roman—”

“I want to be alone.”

Another emotionless statement, forcing her to look back at him. He looks shattered, but in a way that makes sense for him. No red, teary, puffy eyes. No. Just an empty look that hides an abundance of emotions.

Solana makes sure not to stutter, stammer, or anything of the sort as she calmly replies, “I’m not leaving you alone.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw ticking, a sign of growing anger. It doesn’t deter her. “Solana, I want to be alone.”

“Roman—”

“I said leave!”

Silence

There’s a burst of silence that washes over the room following his outburst: loud, frigid, pained.

It’s been some time since he’s raised his voice with her, and the last time, her reaction was typical for where she was at that point. Scared, frightened, terrified even.

None of that could even remotely describe what she’s feeling right now.

Solana has no reaction to his outburst. No flinching, no cowering, no wincing. Nothing.

“No, you don’t.” A closed, sullen smile as she moves a lock of his hair back out of his face. “You just don’t want to feel what you’re feeling. You’re angry and hurt and sad and confused and so many things you probably don’t even understand, because….because that’s what grief is.”

He says nothing, offers not outward reaction to her words.

“I’m gonna say this one time and one time only.” She’s never been more sure about something in her life. “You can yell at me, you can scream at me, you can throw shit in my presence, you can even flip over every piece of furniture in this house, but I am not leaving. You may want to be alone, but you don’t need to be alone.” Pushing back more of his hair, it’s not missed on her the way he clenches his jaw. Not from anger. Something else. Something vulnerable. “I’m gonna clean and wrap up your hand, then I’m going to clean up downstairs and cook. I won’t talk to you unless you initiate it, and I won’t force you to interact with me. You can ignore me all you want, but as long as you’re here, I’m here.” Her voice cracks as she stresses, “I’m not leaving you.”

Roman continues to remain silent following her heartfelt explanation, but it doesn’t bother her. None of what he’s done, what he’s said or not said bothers her, because right now, whatever he’s feeling is valid.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmurs. Solana walks over to the bathroom and pulls out the first aid kit from the cabinet, returning to her husband who hasn’t moved. Silently, she works to disinfect and tend to his injuries. It’s not horrifically bad, but it’s not good, either. She’s unsure if Roman flexes his fingers to show nothing is fractured, but regardless, it’s appreciated and checks off a box without her needing to ask any questions.

Once finished, she informs, “I’m gonna go start cleaning up. Afterwards, I’ll fix you something to eat. I’ll have your plate on the table and text you when it’s ready. I’ll eat elsewhere.”

Roman continues to offer no sign that he’s listening to a word she’s saying. Still, it does nothing to deter her. Kissing his forehead, she returns the first aid kit to where she found it and walks out the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.

Solana walks back downstairs and stops midway to survey the damage around her. A lot is ruined beyond repair, but her focus is less on what was broken and more on ridding the place of the hazards. Starting with the broken glass.

Remembering where the cleaning supplies are kept, Solana carefully maneuvers her way across the floor and grabs the broom and dust pan. Wordlessly, she moves to clear the floor, dumping the shards into the nearest trash can. For extra protection, she vacuums the floor twice to suck up any remaining pieces.

Following that, she goes to put back unbroken items where they belong. Pillows back on the sofa. A sofa that she had to tip over. Books back on the shelf. Pictures that once belonged in now broken picture frames on the coffee table. And the items of irreparable damage dumped in both the kitchen bin as well as the big bin out back.

It’s about half an hour of work, significantly less time than most people would need, but this isn’t Solana’s first rodeo.

She’s seen this movie before.

Is very familiar with how it plays out.

She’s about to start on the food when the sound of a door opening pulls her from searching the fridge to see what she can put together.

Turning and walking towards the front door, Solana is already moving towards a despondent Ava, pulling her into a comforting hug.

Ava sniffles into her shoulder, Solana’s eyes closing as she feels Jimmy’s sad gaze on them.

“I’m so sorry,” Solana whispers, holding her tighter. This is such a devastating loss on all fronts, and while he heart breaks for Roman not being able to see Fetu before she passed, Ava was the one who probably sat with her as she took her last breath.

Solana also knows how equally devastating that can be as well.

“Thank you for being here,” Ava murmurs, eventually pulling back and wiping her eyes. “And for….cleaning up.” She lazily gestures to the room that’s still not together but much better than it was.

Solana nods, taking Ava’s hand. “I was going to cook. Why don’t you—”

“Thank you, but—” Ava offers a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t—I can’t stay here.” Her lips press together as she shrugs with one shoulder. “Too many memories.” Solana also understands that. Understands it well. “I have an apartment out in town. I’m gonna—I’m gonna go stay there for a couple days, at least until–until the funeral.”

Funeral……

Solana doesn’t want to think about that.

“Of course,” she nods. “But, if you need anything—”

“I know.” Another smile. One that more so meets the eyes. Comes from a place of gratitude. She then gestures up the stairs. “But, he’s going to need you more.”

————

It’s difficult.

For many different reasons. Solana trying to process her own grief while wanting to support and be there for Roman, while he works through his own. And while Solana logically knows that Roman icing her out, to some extent, should be expected, it doesn’t make it any easier.

Doesn’t hurt her any less to know he’s hurting but won’t let her help him.

But, she also knows she made that an option for him, and she doesn’t regret it. Nothing could stop her from being exactly where she is, even if Roman hasn’t said a word to her since her arrival almost three days prior.

Occasional glances and head nods, but nothing verbal. That also hurts, but she doesn’t take it personally. Knows that he’s just weighed down by everything that’s happened.

She just continues to do what she can, prepare his meals that he eats alone, handles cleaning and laundry as he seems to spend the bulk of his days in the home gym or outside on ruins. A lot of avoidance behavior. But, she’s starting to see that’s maybe just how Roman copes.

He doesn’t. He just avoids shit until it “goes away.”

But this….this isn’t something to avoid, something that will go away.

He’s going to have to confront his emotions sooner or later.

Solana shifts on the bed in the guest room. The room where she’s been sleeping, already knowing that if Roman can’t even bring himself to interact with her, the likelihood of him wanting them to sleep in the same bed is slim to none.

Another thing that’s hard.

She’s just gotten so used to sleeping in his arms, but that’s a thought that’s much too self-focused. Her needs matter, but so do his, and right now, he’s not able to provide her that.

And that’s okay, because he’s not okay.

She just wishes she could do something to help that.

Her phone lighting up with Dr. Stratus smiling face is a nice distraction. “Solana.”

“Hi, doc,” she greets, shifting on the bed. “Thank you for—for making time for this.”

“It sounded important,” her psychiatrist's grin shifts into more of a frown. “And judging by how sad you look right now, I bet it is.” She directly asks, “what’s going on?”

So much. Too much to even fully unpack. “Roman’s…..had a loss in his family recently, and it’s….it’s hit us all pretty hard.” Him, arguably, the most, but also, her meeting and connecting with someone as much as she did with Fetu only to lose her so quickly…..it’s rough.

To say the least.

Dr. Stratus frowns. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Solana already knows the question before it’s asked. “You know I have to ask. Are you experiencing any type of ideation?”

“No.” An easy answer. “Not at all. Just….heavy emotions.” Extremely. “Part of that though…..is probably because I’m pregnant.”

A gasp. “Solana.” Again, Dr. Stratus is smiling, still not as deep as her initial grin. But filled with excitement. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Solana sniffles, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She’s unable to catch the tear that spills down her cheek. “I still haven’t told Roman, and—and now that this has happened, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to tell him.”

Because that’s the other noxious thing about all of this. How wonderful, life-changing news has been tabled by horrible, also life-changing news.

In no universe can Solana understand and come to terms with how telling Roman about her pregnancy is appropriate. How is he to celebrate life when he’s just lost it?

It’s just all so terribly cruel.

Solana clears her throat. “I went to Roman’s doctor to do the test for me, and it came back positive, but he’s also certain that we’re having twins.”

“Oh, wow,” Dr. Stratus sighs, sympathy written all over her face. “Solana, I can’t imagine how difficult and confusing this must be for you right now.”

Solana whispers, “very.”

“Have you….have you spoken to Gail about this?”

She shakes her head. “No, because…..because it feels wrong—it is wrong—to keep telling people when my own husband doesn’t even know.”

Because it does. Because in a perfect world, she would have come up with a sweet and sentimental manner in which to break said news to him. Instead, she’s having to hide it from everyone around her—including him—sans the medical professionals she needs to know for various medical reasons.

“I understand.” Her voice is kind and calm, a constant. So very much appreciated. “But, you know, like myself, Gail is bound to confidentiality. As your therapist, she can help support you through this on the clinical side.”

“I know, but….but, I signed that paper allowing her to speak to Roman.” A full release of information. Solana knew what it was when she consented and still does now.

“That doesn’t matter,” she counters. “You can revoke it any time, or even if you want to discuss it and make it clear she’s not to share that with him, you can. You are her client. Not Roman. Her responsibility is to you.”

Solana sits on the helpful advice. She’d forgotten Gail had made that clear when explaining the ROI. That it wasn’t the end all, be all, allowing Roman to know anything and everything about her.

She might have to keep that in mind.

“So, I take it, you’ve only told me because of your medication, correct?” Solana nods. “Well, I wanna keep you with the Sertraline and Hydroxyzine. We could probably keep you on the Wellbutrin as well, but with a multiples pregnancy, I don’t want any take any risks.” She goes on to explain the plan, the way Solana is to taper off one medication to start another. Solana takes notes to avoid missing anything and makes sure to let the other woman know she probably won’t be home for a couple days. Thus, the switch won’t be immediate.

That’s another thing that alerts Solana to how low her husband must be feeling. He hasn’t realized or either maybe just feels too down to even be on top of her medication. She’s been giving it to herself, which is something she’d like to become a regular thing. But, Roman not being as strict about it is yet another telltale.

A strong indication of his continuing mental decline.

Another thing for her to worry about, and God is she worried.

————

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

Sniffling, Solana pauses the music, unable to listen to anymore.

Fetu’s smiling voice and cheery voice suddenly fill the room, returning to her along with a bittersweet memory.

“Such a beautiful song. One of my favorites,” she’d shared, guiding Solana through a traditional Samoan recipe. “You want to know my favorite line?”

Solana nodded, smiling as she continued to peel the potatoes. “Of course.”

She waited for Fetu to turn down the music before she recited the lines. “Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone. I hope you dance.” Solana watched the almost solemn look in her eyes before the older woman smiled warmly. “Life is such a precious thing. We all have such limited time here in the grand scheme of things. In the good and the bad, we must always dance and find something beautiful to look back at.”

Solana’s tears intensify, still remembering, feeling the exact emotion she felt in that moment. So profound and moving.

She’d give anything to have just one more type of interaction or conversation with Fetu again.

Even if…..

Even if just to tell her about the pregnancy.

That makes her cry harder.

It takes a good twenty minutes for Solana to gather herself, to feel ready enough to check on Roman, to see if he needs anything before she goes to bed.

Day five of his grieving has arrived, and he’s still not spoken to her. It still hurts, but it’s not a major concern.

What is a concern is everything else. His isolation. His helplessness. His sadness.

Solana knows better than anyone else what a depressive episode looks like, and the last thing she wants is to see him slip into one of those.

But, if he doesn’t stop shoving his feelings away, shutting down and dissociating…..that might be where he’s headed.

Solana bypasses knocking on his door as it’s partially ajar. She instead walks in only to find the balcony door also open, Roman, shirtless, sitting on the chair, staring at absolutely nothing.

She frowns.

It kills her to see him like this.

Walking over to him, she stands just close enough for him to hear. “Ro? I’m going to bed. Do—do you need anything?”

His response is as the rest have been. Nonverbal. He simply shakes his head no.

She’s grateful he can’t see the disappointment in her face. “Okay.” Dejected and deterred, Solana turns to leave and return to her room.

“I didn’t come see her enough.”

Solana stops dead in her tracks as his deep voice penetrates the silence. For a quick second, she doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust her own hearing, because Roman hasn’t said a word to her in days. And yet…..

She turns toward him, realizing that her hearing isn’t needing testing when it happens again. He speaks. “I should have—I should have listened to you.” Solana walks so that she’s standing in front of him, where she’s partially eclipsed his view of the dark forest and sky that’s littered with a blanket of stars. “I should have—” He closes his eyes, as Solana kneels down in front of him.

“Please don’t do that,” she begs, shaking her head, taking his hands in hers. His right hand has healed nicely following her tending to it at least once a day since he messed it up. “Please don’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want that.”

Studying him, Solana is realizing this is the most expressive Roman has been in days. She could feel his grief before, but she can actually see it now. “She knew you loved her, Roman. And she loved you, too.”

“It wasn’t fucking enough though.” The anger is rising again, but it doesn’t deter or scare her, just makes her heart ache. Because she knows it’s just a cover-up for an abundance of sadness. “Never enough.” Her heart fractures even more as he says in a pained, tortured voice. “I wasn’t enough for her….to stay. Not—not her. Not my parents. My uncle. My siblings. None of them.”

And it’s really not until this moment Solana has truly known what it means to see the person you love the most break down before you.

This is a completely different side of her husband.

This is vulnerability.

“Ro…..” Fingers raking through some of his hair, she does her best to find any words that could provide him some type of comfort, all while knowing nothing can ever really take away his pain. “Baby, you are enough.” More than enough. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

He looks away, clearly distraught. “I couldn’t save her this time.” Her eyes shut. This is heartbreaking. “I didn’t…..I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Solana’s chest aches. Tears brimming in her eyes, she stands up. “Come here.” She doesn’t even have to try to embrace him. Roman already has his arms around her, tugging her closer as he lays his head against her stomach.

It takes a second for it to register, for her to recognize there’s a slight tremble of his body against hers. For her to understand why his grip on her seems to tighten by the second. He’s holding her so tightly.

And, it’s when she hears it that it registers.

It’s when she hears the quiet sniffles that it hits her like a ton of bricks.

He’s crying.

Another brief second of shock that’s quickly washed away by her natural instinct to nurture and protect.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, holding him, kissing the top of his head. “Baby, I am so so sorry.”

For one thing and one thing only. His loss. What Fetu’s death has done to him, how it has impacted him so deeply. What’s she’s not sorry for is this long awaited breakdown of sorts. Roman has needed this. Needed it for so long. To finally breakdown and feel his feelings, and while she knows better than anyone how uncomfortable and overwhelming that can be, it’s also inevitable.

This was bound to happen.

She’s just grateful she can be here to support him through this.

The way she always will.

————

Roman’s breakdown proved to be the catalyst. The thing that helped progress him from this almost stoic state of dissociation to a state of feeling and being. He’s actually talked to and with her. More interaction that doesn’t feel forced, almost natural. What she’s used to. To some degree, because he’s still sad. Of course, he’s sad. Still grieving. All normal.

But, he’s no longer icing her out, and that’s all that matters to her.

So much so that he’s continued to accept her nurturance and affection. Welcomes it. Craves it, almost. The way he’s welcomed her back into the bedroom, sleeps at night practically on top of her, head on her chest as she rakes her fingers through his hair. The way he pulls her onto his lap as they eat. It’s all so subtle but also loud. The kind of love and support he’s clearly needing, and she gives it all to him.

Whatever he needs, she’ll do.

Solana presses a kiss to his temple and runs her fingers along his broad shoulders as he lays back, almost relaxed against her, the bubbles surrounding them covering the majority of their bodies, warm water infused with lavender and chamomile contributing to the serene atmosphere she was aiming for.

A goal that seems to be working based upon how at ease he feels against her, the leaking of the tension from his big body.

“I’m gonna drive tomorrow,” Solana informs. Because Roman’s emergence from his dark hole has also meant reintegration into reality and society. Over the past two days, she’s overheard him taking phone calls, some in English, some in Samoan. And from what she could make of these calls is that they were pertaining to funeral arrangements for Fetu.

Clearly, as the funeral is set to be held this upcoming Sunday.

She has such mixed feelings on that. On how hard that’s going to be for her husband.

But, one thing at a time.

“I can drive,” he answers, eyes still closed.

Sighing quietly, she angles her head so that she has a better view of his face. “I said I’m gonna drive.” At that, Roman opens his eyes, clearly taken back by her calm but firm push back. Frowning, she strokes his beard. “I want you to rest.”

Because, she does. Because he’s going to need it. Because in this space for the past week, he’s been able to just be. Be angry. Be hurt. Be sad. Be anything he needs to just be a human freaking being.

But, once they’re back home, all of that has to be turned off. He won’t have the space to be anything but the Tribal Chief and not a man just grieving a very important person.

So, she wants him to have as much time dwelling in this safe space as possible, and that includes being able to relax while she gets them back home.

“Besides, I haven't done it in so long, I need to make sure I still remember.” Being chauffeured quite literally everywhere has entirely deprived Solana of the need to have a car of her own but also to actually, well, drive.

Roman scoffs quietly. “That’s reassuring.”

Rolling her eyes, she flicks his shoulder and murmurs with a small smile, “shut up.”

He does, but it’s only in preparation for what comes next. “Thank you.”

She has a feeling what he’s referring to, but assumptions have rarely done society any good. “For?”

His reply is instant. “All of it.”

Comfort. It’s something she’s clearly been providing him but something he’s always provided her.

Solana moves her hands down his chest and across his shoulders, mouth against his temple. “I’d do anything for you…..” Because she would. Anything at all. “Anything you need, just tell me, I’ll do it.”

He’s done so much for her. Supported her through some of her darkest, lowest moments. The least she can do is return the favor.

Solana watches him sit up, never takes her eyes off him as he adjusts himself so he’s facing her, gently pulling her so she’s almost straddling him. The movement creating a ripple of waves that brushes against their conjoined bodies. Her wet hands move to his face as his move up her damp back.

“I just need you.” It could mean a lot of things, could refer to many of the things she’s done with and for him over the past week. But, that look in his eyes, the way his still solemn gaze drops to her chest, how his hands are moving to her hips, she knows exactly just how he needs her right now.

Solana reaches past him to turn the knob to start draining the tub before ghosting her lips over his, murmuring, “so take me.”

————

Being back in their home is an experience. A bit of a tease, really. Because while it’s nice to be in her house, with Dulce who seems to stay by Roman’s side, clearly sensing his grief, it’s also bittersweet.

Because it doesn’t change what’s happened. Doesn’t make the feelings of sadness go away.

Doesn’t stop Solana from thinking about the letter Fetu gave her, from trying to figure out if it’s the right time to give it to him.

A dilemma that haunts her in the days leading up to the funeral as she works to support and be there for her husband while also managing her own pregnancy symptoms that seem to pop up at the most inconvenient times.

It’s only by the grace of God that Roman hasn’t walked in on her hunched over the toilet, emptying her stomach from any and all food consumed. An irritating occurrence that seems to happen when she’s trying to cook.

She's definitely noticed an increased sensitivity to certain smells. Spices and seasoning that have always been staples in her cooking shelved due to her literally unable to tolerate the nausea that they cause her to experience just from the aroma alone.

Irritating, to say the least.

But, it’s the morning of the actual funeral that has her anxiety spiked, her concern at a naturally high baseline level. All things considered, she just has to focus on being there for Roman. Whatever that looks like.

Still, it’s heavy and sad and just gut-wrenching.

Just about ready, only needing to slide her sandals on after letting Dulce outside to relieve herself, Solana decides to check on Roman.

She finds him sitting on the edge of their bed. Like herself, he’s already dressed. A white, short sleeved button up shirt accompanied by a skirt-like wrap with tribal designs. A lavalava, according to Ava with leather sandals.

She’s certain he heard her walk in, but he remains sitting, head down, ula fala on the bed beside him. Gently closing the door behind her, Solana walks over, partially surprised by how he reaches for her. Hands on her hips, her eyes never leave him as he lifts his head, clearly taking in her outfit. There’s a moment of anxiety under his intense gaze.

It’s easily squashed, however, when he says in a low voice, “you look beautiful.”

His compliment is so appreciated, especially when she thinks about his ability to still balance his grief while also making her feel so special. “Thank you.”

Solana moves her hands to the back of his head as he holds onto her, resting his head against her stomach. “I don’t want to do this.” Her eyes shut. She knows he doesn’t. “But, I have to.”

And that’s the part that kills her. That so much of handling this falls on his shoulders, is his responsibility because of his title. It kills her because it deprives him of just being able to grieve.

“I know, baby,” she comforts, gently stroking the back of his neck. “But, you don’t have to do it alone.”

She feels it. The heavy sigh against her. A sign of a semblance of relief. She’ll take that. She’ll offer that in any way that she can.

Roman sits back up, Solana watching him stand before her. Reaching to his side, she’s careful in how she picks up the ula fala and holds it before him. “Can I…..”

He nods and dips his head, allowing her to place it upon him. Solana is mindful of the placement, remembering the exact place it’s always sat when she’s seen it on him. And when he straightens to his full height, she moves her hands to his chest and says, “I know that you have to be the Tribal Chief today, but when it’s all said and done, and everyone has left and it’s just you and me, all I want and need you to be is Roman….that’s it.”

Because Roman is a man grieving. Who needs to be able to freely feel his feelings.

Whether he wants to or not.

Solana nods and leans up to kiss his cheek before taking his hand in hers, reminding, “I’ve got you.”

He says nothing, only nods, but he doesn’t have to. She can see the appreciation—and love—in his gaze.

—-----

Solana has never actually attended a funeral before. By the time she woke up from her coma, Xavier already had her mother buried, depriving her of that formal goodbye.

So this is a first for her. Different. She quickly learns that death is something that is not necessarily seen as a bad thing in Samoan culture. Sad, yes, but the focus is on the celebration of life, which she started to figure based upon the white color scheme.

Given the nature of the situation, Solana is unsurprised by the small attendance. Roman’s preference, no doubt. Jimmy, Jey, and Rikishi are all expected guests, along with the preacher who officiates. However, it’s Paul and Dwayne who take her by surprise.

There’s a sense of gratitude, however, when they both hug Roman and offer their condolences. And she’s especially moved by the extended time taken with the hug from Dwayne, the way she can feel the empathy emanating from his tall frame.

She appreciates it deeply, and she knows that Roman does, too.

There are also a couple of other attendees that surprise her but not entirely, as they uphold what she would guess are Samoan traditions for funerals. Song and dance. Prayers.

It’s a beautiful send-off, one fitting for Roman’s eccentric aunt.

And almost the entire time, Solana remains by his side. Holding his hand or his arm, and if not in physical proximity, she always finds him, watching him. He is her number one concern.

All things considered, he holds himself together well, but that’s highly due to the mask he’s wearing. The strong resilience he’s displaying in terms of not giving away the true extent of his hurt. But, Solana feels it. Feels it deeply when it’s just the two of them standing in front of Fetu’s casket, the others already departed and readying to leave. She’s about to do the same, leave him to have some semblance of privacy, only for him to tighten his hand that’s tightly clasped with hers.

“Stay.”

A single, simple word. But, enough.

Solana nods, moving to hold onto his arm, standing quietly but supportively beside him.

As she always will.

It’s after that, unfortunately, that things go downhill.

Solana partially expected the twins to come over following the funeral. Ava as well. All three, however, expressed their desire to give Roman his space. And, it’s appreciated, because Solana also believes that to be the best.

For right now.

However, that sentiment is not shared by Dwayne, Paul, and Rikishi. And truly, the first of the three is no issue. He doesn’t ride in the limo, opting to drive himself back to the house.

But, it’s during that ride, for the first time since learning of Fetu’s passing, Solana feels anger.

Not even as part of the grieving process. No, she feels anger towards the two men who sit across from herself and Roman. She feels anger toward them because they haven’t even driven off yet when they’re throwing a bunch of work questions and situations at her husband.

Her husband who may look present, but she knows him well enough to know he’s not.

And given how long these two men have known Roman, she would have thought they could see the same.

Maybe they don’t.

Or, maybe they do and just don’t care. Either one pisses her off. Makes it hard for her to hold her tongue.

Shipments. Orders. Contracts. All logical things someone in Roman’s state shouldn’t be dealing with.

But, it’s exactly what they’re throwing at him.

Even as they arrive at the house, Dwayne taking a call out back, Paul and Rikishi barely have Roman sat down at their dining room table when they’re back at it.

“Orton wants to speak with you regarding re-negotiating the RKO proposal.”

“Stocks are looking good, but we need to start thinking about next quarter.”

“The Cartel are still interested in meeting. You need to make that happen ASAP.”

A bunch of irrelevant shit. Solana partially wants to stay outside with Dulce to avoid having to overhear it, but it’s impossible to not want to be present. To not feel the need to be present.

Just what more do they plan to throw at Roman?

Her husband is responding, being responsive, but she can see it, hear it. The difficulty he’s having.

And it has her nearly bursting at the seams, trying to focus on moving around the kitchen, early preparation for dinner, but it’s hard.

She’s given a chance though when Roman clears his throat and says something about changing before he stands up from the chair and starts to walk away.

Just like that, Solana knows this is her opportunity, her chance, and she has to take it.

Because, she’s disgusted.

It’s only when she’s certain that Roman is upstairs, fully out of hearing distance that she finds herself asking, “what is wrong with you two?”

Both men look at her with partially startled, mostly confused, expressions. Rikishi is the first to speak. “What?”

Solana scoffs and points toward the steps. “He just buried his aunt. Her body isn’t even cold in the ground, and you’re asking him about work?” She continues, throwing out almost angrily, “does he look like he needs to be working right now?”

There’s a bit of a standstill. Paul looks flustered, his cheeks turning red like a child being scolded by a parent. Rikishi, however, wears an almost blank expression. “You are not Samoan, therefore you do not understand our ways. We do not mourn like you do. We celebrate life.”

“Yeah, well he’s not in place to celeb—”

“Roman is the Tribal Chief. What he needs is irrelevant when it comes to the Bloodline.” Rikishi’s interruption—and his words—have her taken back. “He understands what his duty is.”

“His duty…..” It’s potentially a build up of things, sadness and grief, manifesting as anger. Regardless, it’s growing with each word that leaves this man’s mouth. “Has he not given enough? He does everything he’s supposed to do for the Bloodline—”

“Except provide an heir,” Rikishi’s voice is as icy as the cold look in his eyes. “Or would that be you failing at the one job you have?”

Paul’s eyes widen as looks at the man beside him. “Rikishi—”

It takes so much, so much for Solana to not shut him up, to not tell him that she’s pregnant, hoping that he spreads it to any and all who’ve given Roman a hard time about not having a child.

Because fuck them.

The chubby man lifts up his hand as he stands from his seat, rounding the corner of the table. “You are not Bloodline, so I’m not surprised you don’t know your place—”

“My place–” There’s not a single ounce of her wanting or willing to back down in this moment. “–is beside my husband.”

“Do not forget, girl, who put you in that position.” There’s an almost hint of disgust in the way the word ‘girl’ leaves his mouth. “You were nothing before him. Nothing but a punching bag for that pathetic father and brother—”

Solana has never considered herself a violent person, especially not someone who responds with violence. But, it’s almost instinct. Because one minute her hand is at her side, the next it’s colliding with Rikishi’s cheek, with an intensity that sends his head to the side.

And she doesn’t regret it one bit.

Finally aware of what’s just happened, Solana can only process the anger in his fat face and the way he lifts his hand toward her. Except instead of cowering, she prepares to block it.

But, she doesn’t have to.

Because someone else does.

Solana gasps quietly at Dwayne who stands beside, almost in front of her, protectively, holding Rikishi’s arm in an iron grip.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” he says with the perfect balance of lightness and seriousness. “Unless you want me to lay your candy ass out for breaking Bloodlines rules for putting your hands on a woman.”

Rikishi hisses and snatches his arm away. “She put her hands on me. I am an Elder.”

“I don’t give a damn who you are. You will not disrespect me in my house,” Solana swears. Never again will she allow any man to harm her, physically or verbally.

And that’s a promise.

Dwayne shrugs. “Sounds fair to me.” He then smiles, but there’s no trace of humor. “And like you said, she’s not one of us, so she doesn’t know our ways.”

Solana is surprised at that. How long has he been listening?

Paul suddenly steps forward, looking like he’s about to have a damn panic attack. “Clearly, there’s been some—”

“Get out.”

Solana’s interruption earns a variety of expressions ranging from surprisement, amusement and indignation.

Paul stutters. “I’m s-s-”

“I want you both out of my house.” There’s no stuttering on her end. “Now.”

While Paul looks confused between his friend and Dwayne, the latter chuckles, expressing, “I believe the wife of the Tribal Chief has made herself clear.” And just like that the smirk drops into a straight line as he orders, “leave.”

Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, the obese man hurriedly grabbing his papers with trembling hands. It’s Rikishi, however, whose gaze is now focused on her with borderline amusement.

He holds her stare, and she doesn’t dare look away. He will not intimidate her.

Paul is mumbling and murmuring to the other man about needing to leave, something about coming back later, but again, he’s silenced by Rikishi.

“Well played, girl. Well played.”

Rikishi turns to walk away when Solana finds herself stepping past Dwayne. “My name is Solana. Solana Reigns. The wife of your Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, and you will address me as such.”

Paul looks like he’s seen a ghost, like he’s seconds away from pissing himself. Rikishi just stares with a cold smile, one that doesn’t prevent or scare her from continuing.

“And if you ever raise your hand to me again.” she steps forward, invading his personal space the same way he invaded hers. “Just know that I don’t need my husband to kick your ass.” There’s an almost snarl to her lip as she vows, “I can do it myself.”

Because she can. Because if she can put her brother, someone who terrorized and literally tortured her for years in the ICU, she can certainly do it to the rotund man before her.

He doesn’t say anything else, just turns on his heel and leaves out with Paul, but Solana knows better. Recognizes that look. Has seen it before. Knows what it means.

This isn’t over.

And yet, there’s not a part of her that’s nervous, that feels scared or even upset with herself at how she responded.

Because she’s spent years being hurt and disrespected by men. No more.

Not for herself but also for the children growing in her stomach. Children that she strongly believes to be girls. Solana would soon rather die than have anyone treat her daughters the way she’s been treated.

And she knows Roman would and will feel the same.

So, it starts now. The demanding of respect that she’s always deserved.

Regardless of who her husband is.

Dwayne steps forward, gentle hand on her shoulder. “You alright?” Before she can answer, he informs, “I’ll make sure Roman knows about—”

“No,” she interrupts and shakes her head. “I mean, I’m okay, but I don’t want you telling him. He…..he has enough on his plate.” And the last thing she wants is anything else being added to it.

Dwayne frowns. “I don’t disagree with you, but as the faletua—”

Now she’s the one frowning. “The what?”

“Faletua,” he says it slower, offering and explanation. “It means the wife of the Tribal Chief.”

Solana is temporarily taken back by that. She never knew there was a direct word for who she is to Roman. For what she is to the Bloodline.

It’s…..surprising, to say the least.

“Speaking to you the way he did was unacceptable, but going to hit you?” He shakes his head. “Thought he would have learned that shit don’t fly with us by now.”

Curious, Solana crosses her arms and finds herself asking, “what do you mean?”

Dwayne seems a bit reluctant at first, eventually lowering his voice and offering an explanation. “Look, I’m 13 years older than Roman and Rikishi’s twins, so they were too young or not even born to have been around Rikishi when he was a piece of fucking work. Hothead. Impulsive. Used to beat on his wife. Always felt like he should have been the Tribal Chief. Nakoa, Roman’s dad, eventually had to give him an ultimatum: he get some help and straighten the fuck out or he and his entire family would be ex-communicated from the Bloodline.”

Solana hears the word coming out of this man’s mouth, but it’s difficult for her to process said words. Everything seems so…..unbelievable, like it can’t be true. Like the biological father of Jimmy and Jey, who have become like brothers to her, could be the sons of someone so…..vile.

Someone abusive.

Dwayne continues, “he’d calmed down a lot by the time Roman and the twins were born, so they don’t really know much about it. How bad it was, at least.” He then adds over a dark chuckle, “that’s where Jey gets his temper from. His old man.”

Solana has a lot to think on, but she also has many questions, too. Obviously, Rikishi’s behavior hasn’t been a problem for some time. Yes, there was today’s incident, but Solana thinks she knows her husband well enough to know he wouldn’t put up with any bullshit.

So perhaps today was just a one-off? Fetu was his relative as well, so there’s a good chance his grief is presenting as irritation similar to how Roman’s presented as anger.

And yet…..

There’s this small, nagging part of her that doesn’t believe that. Believes that there’s more at play than what meets the eye.

Is starting to wonder if she now knows who Fetu was talking about when she said she told her brother, Nakoa, not to trust him.

Shaking her head, Solana redirects her focus to the conversation at hand. “Thank you.” Because she’s grateful for this man that she doesn’t know very well but believes to be a good person. Someone who’s good for her husband. “I—I’ll talk to Roman about what happened.” And she will……just sans some details.

He doesn’t need to know everything.

It’ll only put more stress on him, and he doesn’t need that.

Dwayne seems unconvinced, but he doesn’t argue. “If that’s what you prefer.”

“It is,” she answers. Switching gears a bit, Solana lowers her voice, sharing, “and thank you for being here…..for him.”

It’s not missed upon her the sad countenance that appears on his handsome face. “Gotta be honest with you, when I got the call, I was shocked. If I had known she was still……” Dwayne sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I understand why he kept it a secret. She….she meant a lot to him.”

More than you could ever know. “I know,” Solana whispers. The realization that Roman should have been back by now causes her to clear her throat. “I should probably go check on him.”

Dwayne nods. “I should probably get going anyway.”

Solana goes to protest, not wanting him to feel uninvited. “Oh no, you don’t—”

“You were right to tell them to leave,” he interrupts, gesturing to the steps. “He does need time.”

Solana says nothing, though feels immensely grateful to have someone who also recognizes that Roman is just a human being who just needs to feel and grieve instead of this machine that can just keep moving like clockwork.

Solana again thanks him for attending and his overall support before seeing him out the door and moving up the steps to check on her husband.

“Ro?” Opening the door to their bedroom, she's partially surprised to find Roman still sitting on the edge of the bed, clothes unchanged outside of the ula fala that lays on the dresser.

He turns to her as she closes the door behind her and walks over to him. “I just….I need a minute.”

Moving in between his legs, she informs, “it’s okay. They’re gone now.”

At that, he looks at her with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“Dwayne left on his own, but I made Paul and Rikishi leave.” And before he can say anything, she’s explaining, “I understand there’s things you need to get done, get caught up on, but the Bloodline can survive another day without you taking charge.” She sighs and cups his face, reminding him, “today was a lot for you. The least you can do is take the rest of it to just….be.”

She’s partially expecting him to push back, maybe even some irritation for her “speaking” on his behalf only for him to ask, “how did they take it?”

Shit. She wants to lie, feels like it would be an easy short term thing and maybe it would. But, the fact that she’s already keeping this pregnancy from him is more than enough secrecy for her.

“Paul seemed more scared than anything. Rikishi….he didn’t like it, but Dwayne backed me, so it was fine.”

A flash of anger appears in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if he likes it or not. If you say something, he needs to fucking do it.” And this is what she wanted to avoid. Him getting upset when he doesn’t need to. “I’ll handle it.”

Solana shakes her head. “That’s not important right now.” Because it really isn’t. Especially since she’s already handled it. “Why don’t you change? Lay down. I’ll fix you something to eat. If I start now, I can have it ready by—”

She’s stopped by Roman reaching her for her, his hands on her waist as he says so quietly, “stay with me.”

It’s such a quiet, little thing, but it’s something he’s wanting.

Something he’s needing. Thus, the answer is obvious.

Solana nods and reaches for the middle of her skirt, hiking it up enough so that she can climb on top of his lap. Roman moves them back on the bed as she lays on top of him, snuggling herself into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, holding her.

“Thank you,” he says after kissing the top of her head. The vulnerability in his voice is aligned what she’s seen and heard in him off and on all week. “I don’t…..I don’t know if I could have handled with this without you.”

His words cause chills to sprout up her spine. Another thing she can relate to. The loss of her mother was something she once thought she would never recover from, largely because she had to deal with it alone.

But, Roman isn’t alone.

And, he never will be again.

Holding him a bit tighter, she promises, voice clear and firm, “you’re gonna be okay, Roman."

And, he is.

She’s going to make sure of it.

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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magical-reid · 22 hours ago

Text

The rings we keep

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none?

Word count: 1.6k

The badge clipped to your belt was as much a part of you as the Glock strapped to your hip. Being an FBI agent meant long hours, endless yellow tape, and the occasional brush with danger that left you rattled for days. But you loved it. You thrived in the chaos, the adrenaline, the chance to make a difference.

Still, nothing could have prepared you for the chaos of being married to Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t kind or brilliant—he was both, in spades. Spencer was a walking encyclopedia with a heart that quietly held more compassion than most people knew. You hadn’t planned on marrying him, though, in fact, neither of you had planned on marrying anyone.

It had started two months ago, in a Las Vegas hospital room. Spencer’s mother, Diana, had been lucid that day—something you’d learned was both a gift and a curse. She had smiled at you as you sat next to Spencer, the three of you chatting about books, the weather, and old stories from her youth.

“You’re so good to him,” Diana had said suddenly, fixing her gaze on you.

You’d looked up, confused.

“She is,” Spencer had replied, his voice soft as he squeezed her hand.

“Marry her,” Diana had said, her words clear and direct. “Spencer, I want to see you happy. And I want to see you married before you have to leave.”

Leave. It had been a terrible misunderstanding, her mind tangling the threads of the past and present. But the plea in her voice had been real, and Spencer hadn’t been able to bear telling her no. He’d looked at you, something fragile and desperate in his eyes, and before you knew it, you’d agreed.

The walk-in chapel had been surreal. There was no big dress, no flowers—just a quick exchange of vows, a ring from a pawn shop, and Diana’s tearful smile as she watched from her seat. The moment had been oddly sweet, almost sacred.

And then the moment had passed.

You’d both agreed to annul it later, but life got in the way. Between your cases and his, you barely had time to sleep, let alone complete the paperwork. Eventually, Spencer had suggested staying married, if only for the convenience.

“It’s easier,” he’d reasoned. “Legally, I mean. Besides, it’s not like it changes anything.”

And for two months, it hadn’t.

Today, though, felt different.

The case you were working on had taken a grim turn, and your unit chief had decided to call in the BAU. You hadn’t protested—it was a particularly brutal series of murders, and their expertise was invaluable. But when you stepped into the police station that morning and saw Penelope Garcia’s face light up like Christmas, you knew she’d snooped.

“Mrs. Reid!” she chirped, her voice barely contained.

You froze mid-step, narrowing your eyes at her. “Not here,” you hissed under your breath.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking. “My lips are sealed… mostly.”

Before you could respond, your unit chief waved you into the conference room. The BAU was already seated, their attention split between a whiteboard covered in crime scene photos and a map dotted with pins.

Spencer was there, of course, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He didn’t look up when you entered, but his presence was enough to send a twinge of nervous energy through you.

Your unit chief cleared his throat. “Agent Reid, thanks for joining us. BAU, this is Agent Y/N Reid—she’s with our unit and will be helping coordinate the case on our end.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. You saw Emily Prentiss glance at Spencer, her brow raised in mild amusement. Derek Morgan’s smirk was almost immediate, while JJ covered her mouth, clearly trying to hide her surprise.

“Reid?” Derek repeated his grin widening.

“Y/N Reid,” you said firmly, emphasizing your first name. “Yes. We’re married. No, it’s not relevant to the case.”

Penelope let out an audible squeal from the corner of the room, and you shot her a warning glare.

“It’s not relevant,” Spencer agreed, his voice calm but his ears slightly pink. “Can we move on?”

Derek chuckled but relented, turning his attention back to the board. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

The case was grim—a string of murders targeting young women who all bore a striking resemblance to one another. Blond hair, blue eyes, petite builds. They’d been abducted, held for days, then left posed in public spaces. The unsub was meticulous, methodical, and growing more confident with each kill.

By midday, the conference room was a storm of theories and strategies. Your units worked well together, bouncing ideas off one another as new leads emerged. But despite the progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

It wasn’t the unsub—though God knew you’d had stalkers in your line of work. No, this was different.

You looked up from your notes and caught Spencer’s gaze. He quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the map.

The weight in your chest grew heavier.

Spencer was your husband. Legally, at least. But in every other way, he was your coworker. He was brilliant and kind and occasionally maddening, but you didn’t know how to be his wife. Not really.

“Y/N?”

JJ’s voice broke through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing everyone was looking at you.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, you and Reid should interview the victim’s roommate together. She might be more comfortable with a familiar face,” JJ said, glancing between you and Spencer.

You hesitated, but Spencer nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “We’ll take my car.”

The drive was awkward.

Spencer fidgeted with the radio, flipping through stations before settling on classical. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the growing tension between you.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally.

“So have you.”

He sighed, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Are you… okay? With everyone knowing, I mean.”

You frowned. “It’s not like we planned this, Spencer. Besides, it was bound to come out eventually.”

“I know. But I don’t want it to make things harder for you.”

You softened at his words. Despite his sometimes awkward demeanor, Spencer had a way of saying the right thing when it mattered most.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Really.”

He nodded, though he didn’t look convinced.

The interview went smoothly, though it yielded little new information. The roommate was distraught, her hands trembling as she recounted the last time she’d seen the victim. You kept your tone gentle, and your questions open-ended, but the answers all led to the same dead ends.

When you returned to the station, the atmosphere had shifted. Penelope was typing furiously at her laptop, muttering under her breath about search parameters. Emily and Derek were deep in conversation, while Hotch stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed.

“We have a lead,” he announced as you and Spencer entered. “The unsub’s car was spotted near a bus station downtown. Surveillance footage shows him leaving the scene shortly after the last victim was found.”

He gestured to the screen, where a grainy image of a man in a baseball cap appeared. His face was partially obscured, but something about his posture sent a chill down your spine.

“The station is less than a mile from here,” Hotch continued. “We need to move quickly.”

Your team sprang into action, splitting into smaller groups to cover more ground. Spencer was assigned to the tech team with Penelope, while you were paired with Emily and Derek to canvass the area.

As you searched the bus station, your instincts prickled. Something about the unsub felt personal—too calculated, too deliberate. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching, waiting.

When your phone buzzed with a text from Spencer, your heart skipped a beat.

Be careful.

You texted back a quick You too before slipping the phone into your pocket.

Hours later, the unsub made his move.

It happened fast—too fast. You were alone, having split off from Emily and Derek to follow a potential lead. The unsub cornered you in an alley, his knife glinting in the dim light.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your blood ran cold. He knew your name.

“FBI,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you drew your weapon. “Drop the knife.”

He didn’t. Instead, he smiled—a slow, deliberate smile that made your stomach churn.

“You’re just like her,” he murmured. “So pretty. So perfect.”

Before you could respond, footsteps thundered behind you. The unsub’s smile faltered, and he turned to run, but not before Spencer tackled him to the ground.

The knife clattered to the pavement as Spencer wrestled him into submission. You moved quickly, cuffing the unsub as Spencer caught his breath.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded, though your hands were shaking. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He offered a small smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching for any sign of injury.

Back at the station, the unsub’s confession came easily. He’d been stalking his victims for months, studying their routines, their habits. He’d seen you on the news once, years ago, and decided you were his ideal type.

The realization made your skin crawl.

“You saved her life, pretty boy,” Derek said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder. “That’s what husbands are for, right?”

Spencer flushed, but his smile was genuine.

Later, as you packed up to leave, Spencer lingered by your side.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” you said softly.

“Yes, I did,” he replied without hesitation.

For the first time since your wedding day, you felt the weight of the ring on your finger. Maybe this marriage wasn’t as complicated as you thought.

Maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fic

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marta-bee · 2 days ago

Text

I'm fascinated by this.

First, thank you thank you THANK YOU for talking seriously but generously about book!Denethor and book!Faramir's relationship in a way that doesn't treat him like an outright villain. I'm a huge Denethor fan (in a way that hopefully revels in his moral complexity/complicity rather than whitewashing it, because where's the fun otherwise?), and we really need more of that in fandom.

I'm not sure I'd call Faramir cruel, but he's definitely living in an imperfect world where he probably understands he can't save everyone, even as he's probably better able to do that than Boromir just because he's working with a much smaller group. But he's harsh when he's questioning Gollum. He's not even overly quick to reassure Frodo and Sam that they're safe and he believes them, after the drumhead trial-type interrogation before they all decamp to Henneth Annun. And he takes part in several really bloody battles and he's still prepared to lead men into almost certain defeat to defend the various outposts around Minas Tirith. I see him making lots of hard decisions in the books.

(It's been years since I've actually reread the books, and it's also late so if I'm misremember or misrepresenting anything, please take it as a good-faith misremembering.)

But I do think --fascinatingly-- he sees an even bigger picture than Denethor does. That's the tragedy of Denethor, that he sees the whole struggle in terms of Gondor vs. Mordor. I was going to say book!Faramir isn't this overly moralistic person, it's more that he's concerned with the fate of everyone, coupled with having the wisdom to see what his father would prefer he'd do wouldn't actually work. I'm thinking of the temptation to bring the Ring back to Minas Tirith here especially. If he thought it would actually bring the goal he's working for, I'm not sure he wouldn't have done it.

But he's wise enough to know it would destroy the Gondor he loves, and broad-thinking enough to know saving Gondor isn't enough. And maybe that is goodness in the Arda-verse or close to it: not some idealistic clinging to principle totally divorced from the practical consequences of how you act, but thinking more universally and seeing more clearly.

Or put another way:

I don't know. It's a fascinating thought, and one I'll probably be turning over in my mind for the next few days.

book!denethor and faramir are like

"i need you to make the hard decisions now that your brother is gone, because you are the one that will be my heir. i need you to weigh the good of many and the good of few. and i need you to do it independently for when i am gone as well."

and

"i refuse to be anything but gentle. i refuse to let the concept of a greater good justify cruelty. i love you. and im sorry to be a disappointment."

#tolkien #lord of the rings #denethor #faramir #lord of the rings meta #marta blathers

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xxcallmemaryxx · 1 day ago

Note

I’d love a sweet II X reader of him playing with readers hair if you don’t mind :)

He’s sweet and horny. I can’t control him it’s just how he is.

II x GN reader.

Under the cut~ <3 <3

“You have five minutes.”

You almost jump out of your skin from where you lounge on the couch. Your head snaps over to ii, already watching you. Had you not just been daydreaming about him, you might have been able to process this better, but it’s slightly alarming when he looks at you like he already knows exactly what you were thinking about.

“Huh?”

Is all you manage to get out. Your brain not able to catch up quick enough.

��You. You have five minutes.”

He repeats. He sticks his hand out and shows you five fingers, for extra effect. Then he juts his thumb out behind him, pointing down the hall.

“Get what you need and then get your ass in that bed.”

Your eyes follow where he’s pointing, your bedroom obviously being at the end of it. You pin him with a distant look, trying to piece together what the hell has gotten into him. But clearly your lack of action isn’t good enough for him.

“ii, what the fuck are you-“

“Five.”

He’s staring right through you. It’s like he can see and feel every single thought you have about him.

“Yeah I got it. Five minutes-“

“Four.”

He cuts you off again. Unmoving from where he stands.

“What are you-“

“Three.”

Oh yeah. Okay. That kicks your ass into gear. You’re up from where you were laying and you’re moving across the room before he can get the next number out. He watches you move. His lips quirked up just enough to give away his amusement. You pass by him as you move to the kitchen, even after all this time there’s still a little part of you that gets nervous around him.

He knows it. He likes it.

He lands a soft smack to your ass as you pass him. Never would he ever pass up the chance to get his hands on you whenever he can. Really, at this point, you’d be quite shocked if he didn’t.

You don’t even know what you’re preparing for. You assume he’s got something planned, and if history has taught you anything, you know a bottle of water and something easy to eat are musts when it comes to being in bed with ii. You grab what you can, getting some things for him too. You fill up your big water bottle, throw some ice cubes in it and make sure the lid is on tight. You scoop it up and walk towards your bedroom, ii having already made his way there. You walk in on him stripping his shirt off and leaving himself in boxers. The bedsheets already pulled back a little bit. The sound of you depositing the things you grabbed on your bedside table catches his attention. He eyes the things you got and a little laugh leaves him at your selection. Your eyes meet and he gives you a small smile.

“Relax. You won’t even need those.”

He says to you softly, coming around to where you stand and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“But I thought we were…”

You trail off, gesturing to the bed in an attempt to awkwardly tell him you assumed you were about to get your life ruined. His lips quirk again, this time a bit closer to a smile.

“Not quite. Maybe tonight.”

He says as he pulls away from you, choosing to stay cryptic. He leaves you standing there, less nervous than when you walked in but still extremely unsure about what the hell he wants right now. You try not to let his implication for his later plans get to you, but he reads you like a book.

“Stop it. Don’t think about that right now. Get undressed and get into bed. Don’t make me count you down again.”

His soft smile is like a drug, you want more of it every time you get it. You strip down to your underwear, matching ii, and you both get into bed together. The sheets are clean. He’s just got done remaking the bed, you can’t help the happy groan that slips from you when you realise. You sink further under the blankets and breathe them in. The sigh of pure comfort tells ii everything he needs to know.

“It’s nice, huh?”

He asks you, his voice so soft as he watches you with his own happy smile.

“So nice… I love clean sheets…”

This pulls a little laugh from him. He lets you enjoy the feeling for a few moments longer while he shuffles around to get himself comfortable.

“Alright. It’s my turn now.”

He mumbles to you, opening his arms for you to slot yourself into. His body is warm, his skin soft. He smells like him. It’s perfect. You take no shame in breathing him in. Pressing your nose into his neck and audibly enjoying every part of him.

His arms wrap around you, but instead of holding you like he normally does, this time they end up in your hair. His thick fingers digging into your scalp and dragging through the strands of hair he can get his fingers through. ii has strong fingers, after drumming for so long sometimes he forgets his own strength, but this is perfect.

So much so that it pulls a slightly surprised sound from you.

“This alright? Been thinking about doing this all day.”

He admits quietly, his hands still buried deep in your hair.

“Fuck, ii…”

Is the only response he gets. A delighted groan.

“Hmmm, I’ll take that as a yes…”

I murmurs into your hairline, leaving a soft kiss there.

“You were thinking about this? My hair?”

You ask him as best you can without slurring your words to an embarrassing level.

“Mhm, it looks so soft today. Smells different too. You use something new?”

He asks you, his nose still buried in your hairline, taking a good whiff of you just as you did to him.

“It’s your stuff… I ran out…”

You admit to him with a little smile pressed into his chest. You didn’t think he’d notice so fast. Figured you’d be able to get away with a wash or two with his shampoo and conditioner before getting new bottles of your own. Apparently you were absolutely stupid for assuming that.

“Fuck that’s what it is… you smell like me. I couldn’t figure it out.”

This time he takes a much deeper whiff of your hair, humming to himself, pleased with this revelation.

His fingers are still playing with your hair. Tangling them up in the strands and then digging his fingertips into your scalp just enough to turn your brain to mush every time he does it.

“Hope you don’t mind… didn’t think you’d clock it so soon.”

“Love, I notice the second you do something different. I noticed it the moment you stepped out of the shower this morning. You can’t hide anything from me.”

You can hear the smile in his voice again, either proud of himself for knowing you so well he’s able to pick up on the smallest of differences. Or, just amused that you thought you could hide anything from him at all. No matter the size.

“If you weren’t actively massaging my brain I might’ve been slightly terrified… or turned on… not sure yet…”

He huffs a soft laugh into your hairline, pleased that you’re enjoying this moment with him. He watches the way his hands card through your hair, loving the way it looks all wrapped up around his fingers.

“I can make you both at the same time, you know this.”

He says things like this so nonchalantly, it drives you nuts.

“You need to be neutered.”

You mumble into his chest, silently glad he’s unable to see the way your face undoubtedly turns red.

“No… I just need my love.”

He mumbles sappily, leaving little kisses along your hairline again. It sounds innocent enough but you know that not so deep down he’s having incredibly impure thoughts.

“Focus on the task at hand, hotshot.”

He smiles into your forehead. Tugging just slightly harder on a handful of hair than he has been. A warning.

He keeps a mental note to remind you to stop buying shampoo and conditioner. His one suits you much better. It suits him too. You smell like him. He’s beyond fucking delighted. This scratches an itch so deep in his brain. He can’t even try to explain just how much he loves it. Maybe just about as much as you love clean bedsheets.

Love you guys thank you for reading.

#wow don’t you just love it when motivation takes a vacation and keeps prolonging its vacation because it loves being on vacation so much?#boy I sure don’t #anyways #let’s hope it sticks around this time #sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token x reader #sleep token ii #ii sleep token #sleep token ii x reader #ii sleep token x reader #marys musings #wine spilt #Mary loves clean bedsheets confirmed #Mary lore unlocked #Mary is currently enjoying clean bedsheets

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pampanope · 22 hours ago

Note

Enjoy this post in TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTY2oXJBk/

Imma huge fan of your content and every time I here this song I can’t help but think about you’re Dadler and graveson

🥺🥺 that’s so bittersweet

Like one day Phillip just looks at Russell and notices the aging, the slowed movements and reaction times, grayed temples, more wrinkles to go with the scars, he’s a bit more mellowed out, all of it subtle.

Adler’s always been larger than life to his son. Seeing him slowing down, even just a little would make Phillip worry. Just a bit...

Just kidding!!!

No, actually, maybe he worries a lot lmaoo

Phillip: “Where are you off to next? Better not be somewhere that’s a level 4 on the travel advisory.”

Russell: “I can’t exactly tell you that. You know I go wherever the mission dictates.”

Phillip: “And you’re sure your guys on the ground did enough to prepare? Background checks on local assets? Terrain and topography? Combed through and analyzed all the SIGINT and HUMINT ya’ll can get your spooky hands on?”

Russell: “….I —“

Phillip: “Also, does it need to be you? They couldn’t get any other guy to whisk some gun running asshole away into a black sight in the middle of the night? They wanted you, of all people.”

Russell: “Well now, that’s just hurtful, son.”

Phillip: “No…! I meant — aaargh…forget it.” Walks away in a huff….before stomping back over.

Phillip: grabs Russell and squeezes him in a hug

Russell: slowly hugs him back

Phillip: pulls away “I’ll see you in a week.”

Russell: watches him walk away, clearly agitated

“I love you, too, kid.”

[THANK U FOR SHARING THAT SONG, ANON~❤️]

#phillip one day: OH GOD MY DAD IS OLD AND HE’S GETTING SHOT AT AT THE ASS END OF NOWHERE #call of duty #phillip graves #russell adler #dadler and graveson #cod black ops 6 #cod black ops #mw2 #ask #thanks for asking!

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scootingaround12 · 2 days ago

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So I’ve been on kinda a Star Trek lower decks kick lately and one idea I’ve come across that won’t leave me alone is that Brad Boimlers is an augmented human.

Like maybe one or more of his parents had health issues/problems that they really didn’t want passed down to their child/ would make it so that child wouldn’t survive to adulthood.

But they were still desperate for a biological child of their own so ended up going to some shady doctor/scientist who said that they would rewrite the baby’s genetic code enough so that it wouldn’t have the health issues but still be there’s genetically.

In order to do this they basically had to create DNA that self replicated and healed as the baby lived so that none of the health conditions would kill him. It was partly successful, while Brad is very frail and displays a lot of the health issues and allergies of his parent/s he’s still able to mostly be healthy.

An unforeseen side effect of this was purple hair and that when enough adrenaline is pumping and the body feels like it has to go into survival mode the self healing DNA kicks into overdrive and he’s somehow able to survive experiences that would kill most others.

Seriously he’s come back from death/near death like 3 times and off the top of my head survived falling off a mountain with a local stating he’s the first she’s seen live afterwards in a current episode.

Also this is absolutely me looking way to deeply into a joke but I’m on a roll so hear we go: Mariner makes a comment that no Brad isn’t aging in reverse he just doesn’t get enough vitamins, what if due to his DNA constantly having to repair itself it basically leaches important vitamins and minerals from his body resulting in Brad being underweight and scrawny he also has problem digesting certain foods so has a hard time getting nutrients from that. He definitely should be on some kind of medical grade supplements but he’s delt with it his entire life and to him it’s normal (his parents were not risking taking him to a doctor more than they had to in fear they might find something out).

The whole but about him dying his hair could be him being paranoid about Starfleet listening to logs and him trying to cover his tracks if his hairs ever brought up. Also another person mentioned his admiration of Una to me and watching the episode it honestly felt deliberate with how clearly he hero worships her along with mentioning how he joined star fleet because of her, Una who’s Illyrian species known for it’s genetic modifications.

I’m thinking that Brad is a genetically modified human and starfleet as a strict no augmented humans allowed rule due to past experiences and worries they have about their unstable DNA.

Brad however has always dreamed of being in starfleet so despite the risks joins claiming to be just a regular human who some less than great genetics.

Honestly I think it could also be a really interesting way to show the not so nice and downright prejudice aspects of starfleet as a whole.

Especially if Brad is ever found out, since not only would he be kicked out he’d most likely be arrested for lying to starfleet about being an augmented human.

Starfleet is in no way prepared for the fury that is mariner, Tendi and Rutherford along with the entire cerritos crew coming for them.

#star trek lower decks #Star Trek #lower decks #brad boimler #headcanon #beckett mariner #d'vana tendi #sam rutherford #au #spoilers

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thescarletwitchsapprentice · 1 day ago

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I Am Your Destiny (Yandere!Rio Vidal x female!reader)

Summary: You had recently gotten engaged and you couldn’t be happier. But someone you’re close with has taken it upon herself to ensure that that will never come to pass, that you are hers and hers alone….

Prompts taken from the Yandere Writing List by @yandere-daze

67. " Nothing can separate us now."

38. "Only look at me with these pretty eyes of yours."

(CW: Kidnapping, forced kiss, potential murder implications, (kinda up to interpretation) restraint, (just on the ankle) possible drugging)

Author’s Note: I actually managed to get one of my ideas out of my head and into a story, holy shit!

Reader is, of course, 18+.

Your eyes shoot open as a soft breeze brushes against you.

“Where the hell am I?” you whisper fearfully as your eyes dart around. It looks like a clearing in the moonlight surrounded by a thick forest, but….it feels unnatural.

The last thing you remember is preparing your wedding invitations. Your partner of seven years had proposed to you and you’d been nose-deep in preparations despite the date being far off. But there’s bigger fish to fry.

Your heart pounds, your breathing quickens; is this a kidnapping? You try to stand up, but something’s keeping you down on your knees. Looking behind you, you see a rope of green light surrounding your ankle, the other end tied to a tree. This escape clearly isn’t going to be easy.

Suddenly you hear a familiar chuckle from the forest.

“Finally, you’re awake, my love.”

Your blood freezes as a shadow slowly strides out of the forest, unveiling their identity; dressed in a black off-shoulder gown with a crown on her head, her dark hair flowing in the light breeze.

“R-Rio?!” you gasp out.

Hearing this, her smile grows.

“Ah, my little bird….how I love hearing you say my name.”

She glides closer until she’s hovering above you, like a hawk hovering over its prey.

“What’s going on?” you choke out.

She doesn’t answer, instead slowly kneeling down in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she repeats before shrugging. “Nothing much, just…..claiming what’s mine.”

The drop on her volume at the end sends chills through you.

“Wh…what are you talking about?” you gasp out.

Rio coos in response. “Oh darling….don’t tell me you’re really this clueless.” Reaching out, she slowly tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “It’s so obvious; you and I are meant to be together.”

Upon hearing this, you have to do a double-take. No….there’s no way you heard that right; Rio’s your best friend, the first one you told about your partner’s proposal, the one you told all your secrets to. Of course you know she’s Death, that she’s the original Green Witch, but you never considered her as anything more than your best friend.

“Rio, don’t talk nonsense,” you chuckle nervously, praying that this is just a joke, just a terrifying joke.

“….Who said it’s nonsense?” Her face betrays no sign of deception, that just makes you feel even more horrified. “What’s nonsense is believing that you’re not meant to be mine, by my side for all eternity.”

“Okay, that’s enough, Rio,” you pant. “Just…..cut the bullshit and let me go.”

Hearing this, her eyes harden.

“Let you go?” Her tone drops as she leans in close, her face only a few inches from yours. “Do you think I’d be insane enough to do that? When I have what I want here and now? Don’t make me laugh. Besides I’ve waited long enough for this moment, and when things arose, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Once again, you try to stand up, but within a millisecond, you’re back on the ground.

“Don’t even bother, it’s cosmic-grade magic,” she huffs. “I can’t have you running off; besides, you wouldn’t even know the way out.”

A lump forms in your throat as you remember just how powerful Rio actually in.

“Why are you here?”

She doesn’t answer for a hot second. “Well….it’s pretty simple; I want to ensure this destiny is fulfilled, and one way to do that is soul-binding.”

“Soul….binding?” you gasp out.

“Soul-binding,” she repeats. “A ritual that connects the souls of two people to the point where the mere thought of being separate from them gives one a sense of absolute dread. It is a bond that nothing is able to sever.”

Gently she cups your cheek, brushing her thumb against it in a slow circular motion.

“Once the ritual is performed, our souls will become one. We’ll sense each other’s thoughts…feelings…desires…we’ll develop a deep desire to be with each other, a desire that will grow into a compulsion. We’ll sense each other’s wants and needs, we’ll be able to communicate telepathically, among many, many benefits; best of all…”

She slowly cups both sides of your face with one hand.

“….Our life forces will be connected,” she whispers.

Your blood goes beyond frozen; Rio, being Death herself, cannot die. If you become connected to her…..

“Rio, you’re insane!”

She just grins and nods.

“Insanely in love, in particular.”

“This isn’t love, it’s obsession!”

Rio merely chuckles. “I see them as one and the same. Anyway, let’s not waste anymore time. Our souls will soon be one.”

You’re in the biggest panic of your life.

“Rio, you can’t do this; you know about the proposal!”

Upon hearing this, Rio gives a bitter chuckle. “Of course I know…..why do you think I’m doing this now? They don’t deserve you. They’re not your destiny; I am.”

“But…..they’re gonna wonder where I am!” you stammer.

She sighs. “Oh, my love…..you’re truly so naive. Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared for that? I’ve already taken care of the problem.”

All of your trembling that you’re trying to hide freezes at that moment. “….what did you do to them?” you gasp.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, my little bird,” she says. “Enough diversions; it’s time to bind.”

In an attempt to avoid the ritual, you turn away, but Rio grabs your head and yanks it back to face her.

“There’s no use fighting it, my love,” she purrs. “This is what’s meant to be.”

“If you do this to me, I’ll hate you forever!” you snap.

However Rio just laughs. “Oh, I beg to differ, my love. Once the ritual is complete, you’ll be so enamored that you’ll only look at me with these pretty eyes of yours. I guarantee it.

Keeping her hands on both sides of your face, she leans forward and locks her lips onto yours. You try to pull away, but Rio’s grip on you is too strong. Her lips give off the taste of mint, one that’s almost….alluring….

You begin to feel your mind fog up and your muscles begin to loosen. But you know you need to get away…..right? The mint taste and scent is beginning to overtake you; at the same time, you feel a strange sensation enter your body, which brings back your alertness slightly. You sense yourself torn between the need to break out and the desire to succumb. However the more you’re exposed to this delicate but intoxicating aroma, the more you lean towards the latter. The strange sensation strengthens, but it’s strange in a euphoric way. Even as that little voice in the back of your mind tries to bring you back, the euphoria and mint both nearly have you. The voice is slowly fading away….until all there is is the euphoria and mint.

You reach up and grab Rio’s face, burying yourself deeper into the kiss. A deep primal desire awakens in you, a desire to be closer than humanly possible; and the more you two kiss, the stronger the euphoria becomes until it’s one of the only things on your mind.

After some time, Rio slowly pulls her lips away from you before giving a chuckle. The two of you lock eyes and you feel as though everything else has faded. As far as you’re concerned, nothing exists but your beloved Rio….

“There…. Nothing can separate us now,” she whispers.

Reaching over, she places her hand just above your chest, the touch making you feel…whole.

“You can feel it too, can’t you?” she chuckles. “Our souls are now one, bound together eternally.”

You focus, and sure enough, you feel as though your souls have practically merged into one, and you love it. It just feels…..right. Seeing this, Rio releases the bind on your ankle and brings you in close. Her warmth immediately puts you at peace as your head settles on her chest.

As you settle in, Rio whispers in your ear, her warmth breath caressing your ear. “You’re safe with me, my love. I’ll protect you, cherish you, treasure you as the precious gem you are. You will want for nothing. All you have to do is stay with me….can you do that for me?”

Without hesitating you nod, an enamored smile forming on your face, and Rio chuckles.

“That’s it. You’ll stay with me like the good girl you are. You don’t need anyone else. I am all you need…..”

As her warmth encompasses you, you feel your eyes begin to flutter shut, the echoing sounds of the waterfall, along with the rise and fall of Rio’s chest, lulling you into a peaceful slumber. Nothing can make this more perfect for you. You know you’re exactly where you need to be, where you want to be. You simply can’t imagine being anywhere else, except with your beloved Rio. And just before you drift off, you hear her whisper into your ear.

“I am your destiny….”

#yandere rio vidal #yandere marvel #rio vidal #yandere agatha all along #marvel #agatha all along

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notyourhetloki · 24 hours ago

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cardio (recom!Miles Quaritch x fem!Reader)

Reader: she/her (fem!Reader)

/NSFW Miles Quaritch x Reader/

Summary: Colonel Quaritch needs to get off some steam, and he knows exactly who could help him with that.

A/N: I'm alive and I'm horny for this alien... I know he's a terrible person and I DON'T support his actions but hey, it's fiction and I can pretend he did nothing wrong, right? Anyway, took me DAYS to write this and I hope you like it! Reblogs are always appreciated!

Tags: smut, mdni, age gap (reader's obviously an adult), Quaritch being Quaritch, but probably ooc ngl, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex (yes I know), unprotected sex, petnames (kid, sweetheart), degradation and praise, dacryphilia, daddy kink, big size difference (human x na'vi), belly bulge, casual sex.

Word Count: 5k

—

Colonel Miles Quaritch; a name you couldn't forget. His impetuous reputation followed him wherever he went, scaring away those who dared to get close. Such a legendary status granted him a sort of fear and admiration combo from his peers and even from you, a scientist who had never even properly met him.

Most of your admiration for him was purely experimental, now that he was a recombinant, after all. You wanted to get close and see for yourself all the wonders the new Na'vi body could provide him.

But you had to settle for watching him from afar. Whenever you crossed the same corridors or observed him in the gym (lifting those stupid oversized weights) you just couldn't help but stare a little, good thing he never noticed... until he did.

"And what do we have here?" You got caught ogling too hard at the blue man's biceps while he stretched. "Like what you see?" He said smugly while flexing his arm at you.

You turned all red and stepped away as quickly as you could, but you could still hear his laugh echoing through the halls. You felt humiliated, and you were sure he would know you as a joke from then on.

One day, one of your colleagues asked if you could cover them on the medbay and do some checkups on the recoms. It wasn't really your area, you worked more in the laboratory but you accepted out of curiosity.

When you entered your designated station you almost gasped in surprise. The Colonel was there, sitting on a stretcher (big enough for his body but low enough so you could reach him). He seemed bored, expression unreadable while he bounced one of his spread legs.

"Alright, let's get this over with–" Quaritch started to speak, but he stopped mid-way after seeing you. He sat up straight, ears up in alert while his tail wagged leisurely. His eyes examined you up and down, mouth slightly agape as he licked his fangs. "Well, hey there..."

The way he slowly pronounced his words sent shivers down your spine, his low gravelly voice echoed through the room and you found it difficult to keep calm. Gosh, your crush on him was bigger than you had imagined.

"Hello, Colonel. My name is (y/n) and I'll be performing your checkup today, any questions?" You tried keeping it professional, but the way he looked at you felt so predatory... you felt like a lamb in a lion's presence. Besides, he was so freaking tall, taller than you had anticipated now that you were so close to him.

"Yeah, I know your name." The memory from your previous encounter made you even more nervous, but he didn't seem to be disgusted by you. He seemed... interested. "And nope. I'm all yours, princess." He leaned back on his hands and puffed his chest, clearly too comfortable.

You couldn't help but blush at his comment, giving him a soft smile while you approached him. Carefully, you prepared some of the equipment you would use, deciding to let your shyness aside.

"Someone here is feeling well-humored enough. Have you had a good night's sleep?" You said, and he never took his eyes off you while chuckling.

"Slept like a baby." His sharp grin and intense gaze had an effect on you, one you tried to deny and repress... but the reality was, you were attracted to him, and it was more than just scientific curiosity.

"Glad to hear that." You asked him to lean down and he obeyed, you checked on his ears, his eyes, and now needed to check his mouth.

"Open up." You proceeded, but Quaritch hesitated.

"Y'know, I'm not used to receivin' orders." He looked down at you, and you couldn't quite decipher his expression. It was a mixture of smugness and severeness, you knew he wasn't completely joking.

"Well, you're under my care now. So you have to listen to every word I say, right, Colonel?" You didn't know what had gotten into you to feel comfortable enough to tease him like that, and you immediately regretted it after the sentence came out of your mouth.

But for your relief, all Quaritch did was laugh. He crossed his arms and stared right into your eyes, lids halfway closed in a relaxed way,

"Yes, ma'am..." He whispered, sending electricity down your body.

To have such an authoritarian figure be so cooperative with you was already a turn-on, but that was none other than Colonel Quaritch. The man exuded so much power and yet there he was, calling you pet names and behaving so well...

"Now, open." You repeated yourself, and he darted his tongue out mischievously, still not breaking eye contact.

Trying to not let his gaze distract you, you performed your examinations and let him close his mouth after a while. He used the pause to take a quick breath from the respirator hanging around his neck and as you got close enough to measure his blood pressure, Quaritch decided to speak into your ear.

"What a pretty blush... is that all for me or do your other patients get you like this often?" He remained still, but his tail brushed the side of your hip as you tried to maintain composure.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, you couldn't possibly believe that was happening... was the Colonel really flirting with you?

"I-I don't have many patients... I'm usually in the lab, actually. I'm just covering for a colleague today..." You tried to explain but all words came out too soft. As you looked up to meet his gaze, he seemed satisfied with his effect on you.

"Covering for a colleague, huh? Such a good girl." The last couple of words came out teasingly slow, dragged out so you could feel every syllable going straight to your sex. The motherfucker knew what he was doing to you.

"I-I think we're done here today, Colonel. You're free to go." You turned around to put some information into the datapad but immediately felt him standing up behind you, his shadow looming over you as you gathered all your equipment.

"Well, guess I'll see you around, kid." Quaritch sighed dramatically before saying, then put one of his large hands on your shoulder as he walked out. "When's our next checkup?"

You looked up, then up again... until you met his gaze. "Hm... in this initial phase, the checkups should be pretty regular, so... maybe next week?"

"Nice. See you there." He squeezed your shoulder before exiting the room.

"But–" You couldn't finish your sentence before Quaritch was out the door, and you knew you probably wouldn't have an opportunity quite like that again... so you decided to just relish the moment and allow yourself to blush even harder at the interaction you just had.

A week and a half had passed and you still couldn't get over your encounter with the Colonel, it had messed you up entirely yet served the purpose of enlightening you on your true feelings. Your little admiration had developed into a full-blown crush and the following nights after the checkup you couldn't help but touching yourself, remembering the way he looked at you and called you a 'good girl'.

You felt insane, victim of your own desires and you just couldn't control it. The thought of him never ceased to appear in your mind, yet fully aware of the taboo weighing on you... he was currently in a different species' body, that alone made you feel like a freak.

But imagine your surprise when one of the nurses came into your lab, all scared face, asking you if you could go the medbay. "Colonel Quaritch demands your presence for the checkup, ma'am..."

Fuck. Why did he want you specifically? Did Quaritch actually want to see you again? That thought never crossed your mind before, but now... it thrilled you.

You strutted your way to the medbay and confidently entered his station, and there he was in all his glory. Seated in a comfortable position, legs spread open and tail slowly wagging. He reminded you of a cat, observing his prey.

"Took your time, huh?" Quaritch's voice resonated through your body, low and severe. He didn't seem as content as the other time you saw him.

"I can assume you didn't sleep so well this time, Colonel." You said as you closed the door behind you, slowly approaching the blue alien.

"I'm all wound up lately, princess. Needin' to get off some steam." The grin he gave you was full of mischief, but he still looked stern and very stressed.

"May I suggest more exercise? Some cardio, maybe? Running on those personalized giant treadmills must feel nice." You innocently proposed, but the look in his eyes turned deep and dark.

"Oh, you could help me with some cardio, alright..." His demeanor transformed into something more playful, turning his head sideways like a puppy in order to get your full reaction.

You gasped lightly at his words, turning completely red at the implication. "You pervert!" You whispered, looking up at him.

The Colonel laughed loudly while holding both his hands up in defense. "Hey, I didn't say a thing! You're the one assuming!" He continued laughing for a bit before you finally decided to avert the situation and take one of your medical instruments to his mouth.

"Open." You said plainly, and he obeyed with a bit of hesitance. "Your throat is sore, have you been screaming a lot?" You hoped the question would throw him off the previous conversation.

"Oh, you have no idea, kid." It worked, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes as he spoke.

"I'll give you some syrup for that, you'll be good as new in no time." You offered him a smile despite feeling so small in his presence, his intimidating size always getting on your nerves.

"Does it taste like shit?" He prodded.

"Oh, c'mon. Can't handle a bit of medicine?" You teased while measuring his blood pressure.

"Watch it." His voice came with a warning, but you only smirked at him.

As you were finishing the checkup, you turned around from him to update the datapad. Suddenly, you felt something lifting the hem of your dress up from behind, so you looked down and caught the sight of his tail trying to expose you.

"Fuck, that little sundress you' wearin' looks good on you." Quaritch said, looking at your exposed thighs.

You quickly slapped his tail away from you, smoothing down the hem of your dress neatly while gasping in exasperation.

"Oh, you–!" You tried to measure your tone to a low whisper but ended up not being able to control your words. "You absolute bastard!"

His low chuckle only served to turn you on and piss you off at the same time. "Don't call me names, darlin'... I might like it."

You sighed in defeat, opening up the door as an invitation. You didn't know if you should feel harassed or horny... or both. "You're free to go now, Colonel."

He chuckled at you, rising up from his seat and towering over your frame.

"See you next time, sweetheart." Quaritch said while ruffling your hair lightly. The way the pet name rolled off his tongue made your heart beat even faster, and you knew you were going to remember it later that night.

You couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day, feeling the ghost of his presence crawl under your skin. It ignited you to even think he could want you... made you feel seen, desired.

As you got ready to go to your quarters, you remembered the throat medicine you promised to give him... and you had an idea. It wouldn't hurt to try, right? Besides, you just wanted to see him again, maybe gain another compliment so you could touch yourself later thinking about it.

So you removed your labcoat and went with just your sundress, fixing your hair on the way to his chambers.

You hesitated before knocking on his door, but your crush was so intense it filled you with crazed bravery.

Your eyes widened at the sight of a shirtless Quaritch answering the door, who looked quite unhappy until he realized it was you. "Oh, wow. What gives me the honor?" He leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms, looking down at your face.

"I-I brought the syrup I mentioned earlier... for your throat." Gosh, he was handsome. Blue, tall and muscular, you wish you could climb him like a tree. His big green eyes flickered between your face and the big recipient you were holding, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

He chuckled in response, taking the medicine from your hands. "You're the sweetest thing, ain'tcha?" He seemed to look down at your body before stepping aside and leaving a gap in the doorway. "Come in, kid... don't worry, the filtration system's out so the air is good enough for ya."

Besides your better judgment, you just couldn't simply deny an order from the Colonel. You entered his room and quickly noticed how everything was oversized, big enough for his comfort... you found that endearing.

He closed the door behind you and suddenly realized how crazy that whole situation was. You were in his quarters, alone with the legendary Miles Quaritch... and he was shirtless.

"So... h-how can I help?" You tried maintaining calm, but deep down you were so nervous you couldn't help but stutter at your words.

"Oh, I know somethin' you could help me with." His canines showed in his sharp grin and the vision made you swallow dry, nearly panicking when he trapped you against the wall with his body. He was ducked enough so his face was just slightly above yours, and he seemed even more intimidating than before.

"I don't understand..." You didn't want to seem weak, so you maintained eye contact even though it was proven to be quite difficult.

"Don't act a fool, you know damn well why you're here. I’m tense and I need a hand. I thought a pretty thing like you could help me out." Quaritch looked at you with hungry eyes, the implications of his advance combined with his closeness to you made your panties wet.

But even though you were completely horny at that point, you just didn't want to give in so easily. "I-I don’t think this is appropriate, Colonel..." Your voice came out in a mere whisper, not being able to convince him.

"Oh, cut the crap. I’ve seen the way you look at me in the corridors, the way you blush whenever you’re near me… it’s adorable." He took the opportunity to lift your chin up with his big fingers, forcing you into a more direct stare. "Or do you want me to believe you came all the way here just to give me some medicine?"

You swallowed again as you felt completely exposed, but surprisingly, you weren't ashamed. Instead, you felt even more encouraged to pursue what you had been fantasizing about for weeks now.

"Then, what do you need from me, Quaritch?" You fiddled with the hem of your dress playfully, and he looked down at your body to accompany your movements. "What would you like me to do?" You said softly.

He slowly raised his gaze to your face again, smiling widely while licking his lips.

"I would like you..." Quaritch's tail once again tried to lift your dress up, grazing the skin of your thigh and giving you goosebumps in the process. "to take your clothes off."

Your eyes widened a bit at his request, but you wanted to behave for him. As you slowly removed your dress, you noticed his eyes roaming on your skin, hungry for the sight of you.

"Ah... such a good girl you are." Quaritch's voice was low and raspy, full of desire. He only stood there, arms propped on each side of your head as he observed your every move with much interest.

The way he called you made you blush even harder, not being able to control a low satisfied hum in response.

"You like it when I praise you, huh?" Once your dress was gone, he took it from your hands and tossed it across the room. "You gotta earn it if you wanna hear more... so keep moving."

You nodded your head and decided to try something out while you undid your bra. "Yes, sir..." You said lightly, barely audible.

Letting your bra fall to the ground, you massaged your exposed breasts only to show them off, allowing a playful grin to appear on your lips.

"Oh, you dirty little thing." Soon the Colonel's hands replaced yours, his big palms completely covered your breasts as he squeezed them not so gently. "How many times did you touch yourself thinkin' about this, huh? Thinkin' 'bout me?"

Heat rose to your cheeks and traveled down your belly, the sensation of his hands on you clouded your thoughts. "Ah... m-many times, sir... so many..."

Quaritch appeared really satisfied with your answer, twitching his ears in excitement and wagging his tail. "Oh yeah? You've got toys or somethin'?"

He wanted to know the details and you were going to give it to him, even though it made you blush.

"Y-Yes, I..." You slowly lowered your panties, feeling them slide down your legs. "I got a dildo I use..."

"Really?" His condescending tone only made the ache between your legs grow. "What's the size of that thing?"

"Hm... pretty average, actually." You eyed him with false innocence before he grabbed your ass hard, almost lifting you up.

"Ha, let me tell ya, kid... I think I might be bigger than average." Quaritch inclined his head, inviting you to look down. As you did, you finally saw the bulge in his pants... the thing was huge.

"Holy shit..." You said under your breath, making him laugh. "I-I don't think it will fit, Colonel..."

His laugh was harsh and patronizing. "Nah, we'll make it work." He looked all casual about it, smug as always.

Quaritch took your arm and guided you to his enormous bed, lifting you up and laying you out in front of him.

"Fuck, look at you..." He carefully kneeled in front of the bed, massaging your thighs encouragingly. "Open them for me, sweetheart."

You opened your legs delicately, exposing your slick sex to him.

His pupils widened at the sight of your pussy, and only for a brief moment he looked at your eyes before finally devouring you, diving mouth-first into your sex. The sheer surprise of his action made you jolt a little, granting you a slap on the side of your thigh. "Ah!"

"Behave." He said against you, just a quick pause before he continued. Quaritch licked your entrance up to your clit, kissing his way around your labia and making an absolute mess.

You whined and moaned at his movements, grabbing the sheets around you and caressing the back of his head. Your reaction only encouraged him to tantalizingly insert a finger inside you, making you shake from overstimulation.

"Ah! Quaritch!" Moaning his last name made him smile against you, chuckling to himself and pausing for a quick comment.

"I have a finger up your cunt, darlin'... I think you can call me 'Miles' now..." He used the break to nip at the inside of your thighs, his sharp canines leaving marks as he bit into your supple skin.

"P-Please, Miles... don't stop..." Was all you could say before you felt another finger easing in you, his big digits spreading you open.

"Shh... so needy, ain'tcha?" He moved his fingers in and out carefully, aware of the size difference between you. "Don't worry... daddy's feelin' generous today."

Daddy. That word was your weakness, sending you deeper into a spiral of need and desire you didn't know possible. It was all you needed to send you to the edge.

Miles continued eating you out then, sucking on your clit while fucking you with his fingers. He licked and sucked and drooled all over you, meanwhile, his fingers curled up inside hitting the perfect spot.

"Ah! Please, d-daddy!" You could feel him smiling against you again as you got closer and closer to your climax. "Fuck!"

Waves of pleasure washed over you as your orgasm bloomed, sending electricity all over your body. But even after you came Miles didn't stop, forcing you to pull your hips away from him. "T-Too much..."

Quaritch wasn't exactly pleased with that, but he also wanted to move things along so he allowed it. "Okay, okay..."

He took the opportunity to take a breath from the respirator that laid next to you on the bed, closing his eyes and letting the air revigorate him.

Only then he crawled on top of you, his predatory demeanor causing you to feel even smaller than you already were in comparison to him. Miles bit his lip while lowering his pants, letting his dick spring out free from his boxers.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sheer size of it... could be compared to the size of your forearm, even. The glowy patterns of his skin extended down to his length, and the purple-rosy tip already dripped with pearlescent precum.

"It's rude to stare." He had a ridiculous smile on his face, clearly satisfied by your shocked expression.

Quaritch was slotted between your legs, stroking his dick slowly while admiring your body. "I'm gonna fuck you up, pretty girl."

Shivers went down your body at his low whisper, and you hummed in approval as he started to grind his length against your pussy. The veins and dots served as texture and stimulated your sensitive clit.

When you felt him positioning his tip at your entrance, you looked up at him and saw his concentrated face. Quaritch was intensely staring at where your bodies met, watching as every inch of him stretched you open and penetrated you.

"M-Miles..." You were about to tell him it was too much, but he soon slipped even further into you, causing you to gasp.

"Shh... attagirl." He eased in and out, inch by inch, slowly and precisely. You were pretty wet already but he occasionally would spit down on his dick to lubricate it even more.

You felt so full... his girth stretched you open so deliciously it hurt, making you teary-eyed.

"Daddy... please, ah!" When the first word came out of your mouth, you felt his grip on you tighten even further and you knew you were going to get bruised.

"You like that, huh? Let me see those tears, then." He was kneeling upright on the bed, grabbing your hips and raising them up to his crotch, completely controlling the movements.

The tears you were holding back started to cascade down your face in an instant, the relief of crying easing down the slight pain. You were overstimulated, but you didn't want to stop.

"Yeah... good girl, (y/n)." The sound of your name combined with the praise was divine, making you even more driven to continue such a crazy endeavor.

"I-I can take it, Miles... please." Was all you needed to say. He looked at your eyes for a lingering moment before thrusting his hips onto yours once, then twice... still slow but comparatively harsh.

You gasped at his every move and noticed that the pain slowly faded away, turning into delicious pleasure. Miles noticed that too, you began to moan louder and louder... so he started to thrust deeper, faster.

Soon he was fucking into you with the maximum length he could, making you mewl his name in return. He hovered over you, ears twitching in excitement and tail wagging.

"Such a tight little cunt, ah... taking my cock so well..." He groaned and hummed occasionally, the sounds vibrating in his chest.

You stayed in that position for a while, just taking him like a doll... until he stopped. You looked at him in confusion before feeling him lift you up completely, manhandling you until you were on top of his laid-down frame.

"You do the work now, princess." Quaritch said while inhaling on the respirator, chest quickly rising and falling trying to regulate his own breathing.

"Oh, you lazy bum." You whispered while aligning the tip of his cock into your entrance. You were facing him, cowgirl style as you slowly lowered your hips down onto his big dick.

"Hey!" He smacked your ass a little harder than intended, but didn't apologize. "You're lucky your cunt's been making me real jolly right now." And he smiled that stupid smile of his.

You decided to ignore him and just continue hopping on his cock, making a mess on the sheets as you rolled your hips in circles, up and down.

"Agh... fuck, look at you... such a good little whore." Quaritch's hands traveled your body without a certain destination, squeezing your tits and caressing your back before grabbing at your waist. "Go faster, I wanna see ya jiggle."

Obeying without much thinking, you started to fuck yourself into him faster. After a few thrusts, you felt yourself lowering even further onto him, taking him even deeper than before. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, moaning loudly while holding him for dear life.

"Fuck, doll... I'm gonna make you pop like that..." To your surprise, there was a sense of urgency in the Colonel's voice, was he... worried?

"Hmm, I hope I pop..." You said without thinking, too fucked out to even form coherent thoughts.

Miles laughed at that, seeing your expression and hearing your lust-filled voice... he knew you were enjoying yourself way too much. "Wow, you're such a fucking freak, huh? Such a dirty little slut."

The insults just fuelled you into a frenzy, bouncing on his dick faster and deeper and taking him almost all the way up. That's when you noticed his hand resting on your stomach, and you realized he was trying to feel the bulge his cock made in your belly.

"Can feel myself inside ya, kid... fuck." His enormous hand lingered there for a few moments before lowering his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud.

You rolled your head back in so much pleasure your vision went dark, moaning obscenely along with the squelching sounds your bodies made. Feeling your second orgasm growing inside, you hopped up and down until he was completely buried inside you. Once you took all his length, you simply started rolling your hips without taking him out. "Ahh...! F-Feels so... so good..."

"Goddammit, (y/n)... keep going." Demanded Quaritch, and you didn't even need the encouragement because you couldn't stop if you wanted to, searching your high frenetically.

For your luck, his thumb didn't stop either, rubbing your clit just right. You were so full and stretched and sensitive that all you could do was mewl for him. "Miles! Daddy... fuck, I'm gonna..."

"Y-Yeah, me too, princess..." He looked at you through half-shut eyes, not being able to hide his own pleasure. His hands squeezed your hips keeping them as close to him as possible, forcing you into him. "Ugh, gonna cum all up inside ya."

And then you felt him twitching inside your walls, spilling his seed and filling you up with his cum as he growled like an animal. You could feel his jizz dripping out of you, slowly oozing from your entrance onto his skin. That feeling alone, of being filled to the brim, made you finish in no time.

You came with a loud moan, throwing your head backward and arching your back. Your orgasm took over you, making you tingle in pure ecstasy... you had never felt anything like that before.

As you came down from your high, you opened your eyes to see Miles watching you attentively. His pupils were blown out while he heavily breathed through his respirator, and he smiled smugly at you.

"How you doing, kid?" He said after tossing his mask aside, rubbing soft circles on your bruised skin, surprisingly tender in his movements.

You slowly moved your hips up inch by inch, removing his now softening cock from inside you. It plopped onto his belly comically as you rolled to your side, climbing up the bed in order to face him. You felt incredibly empty without his girth stretching you, but you were proud of yourself for being able to take him so well.

"I feel amazing..." You confessed, not able to suppress a wide smile.

Quaritch laughed at that, inviting you to lay on his chest. You could hear his rapid heartbeats as he teased you. "Me too, me too..."

You both stayed there for a while, eyes closed while caressing each other until you remembered the air filtration system would start working at any minute. So you quickly got up, cleaned yourself and started to make your way to the door.

"Hey, where d'you think you're going, hm?" A stern voice could be heard from the bed.

"I thought you were sleeping..." You said, coming back into the room.

"Without saying goodbye? Heartless." He said pretentiously, knowing damn well he would do the same. "See you around, sweetheart."

"See you around, Miles." Without much thinking, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He didn't smile, but his ears flickered adorably and you took that as a win.

Before you could reach the door, you heard Quaritch call while standing up to reach you. "(y/n)?"

"Yes?" You turned around, looking up to meet his gaze.

"When's our next checkup?" He fumbled on his feet as he tried to pull his underwear up, making you chuckle.

"Honestly? I have no idea. As I said, checkups aren't really my thing." You tried not to stare too much at his body, the memories from the recent events already taking over your mind.

"Right..." The Colonel seemed disappointed at that, but his bright green eyes lit up the moment you started to speak.

"Don't worry, just call me whenever you need some cardio." You said as you winked, gaining a sharp grin from him.

"Yeah, that ain't a bad idea."

—

divider link

#no regrets on this one tbh #miles quaritch #recom quaritch #quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader #avatar x reader #na'vi x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #headcanon #self insert #y/n #fem reader #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #terato #notyourhetloki

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the-great-papyru · 1 day ago

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been thinking about how going through and getting used to the resets would genuinely limit flowey’s ability to do… well, basic things. like form conversations.

think about it. he’s scripted everything. and he’s had all the time in the world to work on scripts, too.

what if he hears someone talk, and through unrelated circumstances they say something they usually say in another, unrelated scenario. like… i dunno, when toriel gets killed in a certain way, she’ll say something along the lines of “how could anyone do something like this?” and flowey’s prone to responding with “oh, you haven’t even SEEN what i’ve done to papyrus!” because he knows if he does she’ll remember papyrus’ name and, if he times it right, warn sans, and that has a snowball affect that leads to his run being much more interesting.

and then toriel says the line post-pacifist for whatever reason (maybe she’s reading the news) and absentmindedly flowey immediately responds with his usual reply.

he gets several strong looks, and papyrus checks his back to make sure flowey didn’t attach a sticky note with the words “kick me” on it again.

or, okay, he’s used to thinking through responses until he finds the perfect one. sans gives him a “heya” and he spends 2 minutes trying to figure out what he means by that greeting, what he knows (flowey’s been struggling maintaining his pre-prepared facial expressions lately for some reason, no idea why) and how to respond in a way that doesn’t let on that he knows sans knows, but also let him know that he’s not letting down his guard, not to mention figuring out what face to say it with… by then, of course, sans has muttered a brief “uh. okay then” and walked away. and flowey can’t just reload to finally let loose his carefully crafted reply like he’s used to, either.

he honestly probably finds it easiest to talk to frisk. he doesn’t have a running tally of their likes and dislikes. so he doesn’t have enough to base lines on, and he’ll sometimes even end up saying the first thing that comes to his mind. crazy.

also. i don’t know about you, but when i get multiple choices in a video game i often choose the clearly “wrong” answer just to see what people say. you can’t progress after choosing it, anyway, so there’s no real loss.

i wonder if flowey has that same mentality. it might do a lot more than make people angry, though. like… let’s say toriel asks him “what would you like to eat for dinner today?” and he goes with eggplant parmigiana, he hates eggplant parmigiana it’s gross and chewy and obviously the wrong answer. and he just wants to see what she’ll say before he reloads and chooses the right answer (snails). he realizes too late what he just did.

so yeah, flowey would really struggle with talking, i think. it’d be a learning curve for sure. he’ll figure it out, of course, but it’ll take a while.

#undertale #flowey #this is not hating on eggplant parmigiana by the way #i love eggplant parmigiana but flowey’s a weirdo so he probably hates it

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littlest-w01f · 15 hours ago

Text

Day Off

Feysand x Reader

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

BDAY CELEBRATION

Summary: On your birthday, your mates can't help but order you to stay in bed with them and rest.

Cw: Food play, Oral!F Receiving, Smut 18+ MDNI

A/N: I was so busy yesterday I forgot I hadn't queued this yet :')

Early in the morning on your birthday, you were out of bed, taking a shower and preparing for your day ahead. The warm water cascaded over your skin as you stood under the showerhead, letting the steamy spray wash away the remnants of sleep. The air was filled with the sweet scent of your favourite lavender body wash, its soothing aroma helping to calm your mind.

As you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement mixed with nervousness despite the workload you still had for the day.

But before you could dry yourself you felt strong hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. A deep, familiar voice whispered in your ear, "Happy Birthday, baby."

Your heart raced as you recognized the touch and scent of Rhysand. He had obviously snuck into the bathroom while you were lost in thought under the spray. His muscular arms held you securely as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses along your damp skin. He winnowed you out, pushing you back onto the bed, making you bounce.

With a soft gasp, you settle back into the plush pillows as Rhysand and Feyre fuss over you. The Illyrian High Lord's chiselled features soften with concern while his mate, the former mortal turned High Fae, gently brushes a strand of hair from your forehead.

"You are not leaving us this early in the morning, it's your birthday. You are not working yourself to death on your birthday" Feyre murmurs, her eyes filled with warmth. "We won't take no for an answer."

Rhysand nodded in agreement, his dark hair gleaming in the candlelight. "Besides, we've got everything right here." He gestures to the lavish spread that appeared before you, delectable pastries, steaming mugs of ambrosial tea, and delicate fruit tarts.

As they coax you to indulge, you can't help but laugh at their antics. "No, I can't. I have work to finish, Madja will kill me if I am late." You try to get up from the bed.

Rhysand gently but firmly pushes you back down onto the plush bed, his strong hands easily overpowering your resistance. His violet eyes flash with determination as he looms over you.

"No arguments today, my love. Feyre is right - your birthday only comes once a year. Your work can wait one day." His voice is low and commanding, brooking no dissent. "Madja may be fearsome when it comes to work, but even she would understand putting aside duties to celebrate with loved ones."

Feyre settles beside you, her slender fingers intertwining with yours. Her eyes sparkle with mischief and affection. "Please, just give us this day. Let us spoil you rotten like you deserve." She brings your joined hands to her lap, pulling you in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

Your body relaxes completely as Feyre kisses you, you melt against Feyre like snow the morning after the Winter solstice. Her lips are impossibly soft yet insistent, igniting sparks of pleasure that dance along your nerves.

When she finally pulls back, you're left breathless and flushed, heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Feyre smiles, slow and sensual, clearly pleased by your reaction. Her thumb traces idle patterns on the back of your hand as she holds your gaze.

"I knew you couldn't resist us for long," Rhysand purrs, his deep voice rumbling through you. He leans down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. "Mmmm, you always smell divine first thing in the morning. Good enough to eat…" His tongue flicks out to taste your skin, drawing a shiver from you.

Feyre chuckles softly at Rhysand's words, her own desire kindling in response to his intimate gesture. She turns her attention back to you, her warm breath caressing your ear as she whispers, "Perhaps we should feed him something sweet instead... So he doesn't devour our birthday girl whole."

Her playful suggestion sends a thrill through you, your core clenching with anticipation. Rhysand's head lifts, his eyes glinting with wicked intent as he straightens up. "Now that's an idea I can get behind," he says, his voice dripping with promise.

Without warning, he reaches for a decadent chocolate cake adorned with sprinkles of starlight, his movements swift and deliberate. In a blur of motion, he pins you beneath him, the cool surface of the cake pressed against your stomach as he positioned himself between your thighs.

You squeal as he rubbed the chocolate cake into your freshly showered skin, "Rhys-" Your voice is cut by Feyre bringing in a tiny piece of puff pastry to your lips

Feyre's delicate finger offered you a crumbly slice of strawberry tart, its sweet aroma mingling with the rich scent of cocoa from the cake beneath you. As you part your lips to fully accept the treat, Feyre's other hand trails down your side, her touch feather-light and electrifying.

"Mmm, savor this," She cooed, her eyes never leaving yours as you bit into the flaky pastry. The burst of flavour explodes across your tongue, tangy berries and buttery crust. It's the perfect contrast to the cooling cake against your skin, sending tingles racing through you. "Isn't it so good? Don't you just wanna stay and relax today?"

Just as you swallow, Rhysand's mouth descends upon your abdomen, licking a strip of cake clean off you. "Mmm... Just when I thought you couldn't get more delicious..."

Feyre giggles at Rhysand's ravenous display, watching with unabashed delight as he worships your body with his mouth and tongue. "He's quite the hungry beast, isn't he?" she teases, her voice husky with arousal. "But don't worry, we'll make sure he's well-fed... In every way possible."

"Yeah..." You manage with a giggle as Rhysand focuses on your belly, licking and sucking, the feeling leaving you ticklish.

She moved to straddle your chest, her legs pressing against your breasts as she began to grind slowly against you. The heat of her core seeps through the thin fabric of her nightgown, stoking the flames of your own desire. "Let's show our birthday girl just how much we adore her," Feyre purred, leaning forward, leaving her just hovering above you, not too close, not too far.

Meanwhile, Rhysand continues his culinary exploration, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your quivering belly towards the juncture of your thighs.

"Ohhh... Yesss," You moaned softly as Rhysand licked a strip up your cunt, your breath hot against Feyre's slick folds.

Feyre shivered at the sensation, grinding herself harder against you. "That's it baby, worship me like a good little girl you are."

Rhysand chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to his face. "Don't forget about me," he growled playfully before burying his face between your legs once more, his tongue delving deep inside you.

The dual sensations were almost too much to bear - Feyre riding your face while Rhysand devoured your dripping cunt. You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher towards release, your moans muffled by Feyre's dripping cunt.

"Mmmm... You taste so fucking good," Rhysand groaned against your core, his words vibrating through you. He lapped at your clit with long, slow strokes, occasionally dipping lower to thrust his tongue deep inside you.

Feyre rode your face with increasing fervor, her juices coating your chin and cheeks. "Yes! Oh fuck yes!" She cried out, her fingers tangling in your hair as she ground herself against your eager mouth.

The room filled with the lewd sounds of wet flesh slapping together and muffled moans. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, an intoxicating perfume that only spurred you on further.

"Ohh fuck yes, just like that!" Feyre cried out, her thighs trembling around your head as you worked her over with your skilled tongue. Her juices flowed freely now, coating your chin and dripping down onto the sheets below.

Rhysand continued his relentless assault on your dripping cunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he feasted on you like a starving man. The obscene slurping noises he made only added to the erotic symphony filling the room.

"Gods, you're both so fucking sexy," he growled appreciatively, his eyes locked on the debauched sight before him - you buried face-deep in Feyre's glistening cunt while he ate you out with wild abandon. "I could watch this all day…"

You whimpered under them, voice muffled but pleasure-filled "Mmmph… Fuck…" You managed to gasp out between licks, your voice muffled by Feyre's soaked folds. The pressure building inside you was reaching a fever pitch, your hips bucking uncontrollably against Rhysand's talented mouth.

"Ah ah ah!" Feyre threw her head back in ecstasy, her walls clamping down around your probing tongue as she came undone. Her release gushed out, flooding your mouth and drenching your chin. The taste of her essence was divine, sweet and musky all at once.

Feeling Feyre's orgasm triggered something primal in you. With a keening cry, you shattered apart, your climax crashing over you in intense waves. Your cunt spasmed wildly around Rhysand's invading tongue

"Mmmm… That's it baby, cum for us," Rhysand crooned, his voice low and rough with lust. He lapped greedily at your flowing nectar, prolonging your orgasm until you were nothing more than a boneless heap beneath him.

As the last tremors subsided, he placed a tender kiss on your sensitive clit before crawling up your body to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he tasted his mate on yours, a heady mix of sweetness and musk that made your spent body shudder anew.

Breaking away with a gasp, Rhysand grinned down at you, his eyes gleaming with wicked promise. "Ready for round two, darling y/n?"

Feyre giggled breathlessly beside you as you nodded along, face covered in her release, her fingers tracing idle patterns along your sweat-slicked skin. "Mmm, look at you, absolutely wrecked already," Feyre purred, her voice husky with satisfaction. She leaned in to capture your lips in a languid kiss, tasting herself on your tongue. "And yet still so eager for more…"

Rhysand hummed in agreement, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His hands roamed your curves possessively, mapping out every dip and swell. "We've barely even started, love. The day is just started and full of endless possibilities…"

He punctuated his words with a sharp nip to your earlobe, making you gasp. Feyre took advantage of your parted lips, slipping her tongue inside to dance with yours. Their combined touches ignited a fresh wave of desire within you, your body responding eagerly despite the thorough ravishing it had already endured.

"Well then," Feyre murmured sultrily, her eyes darkening with renewed hunger as she gazed down at your thoroughly debauched form. "What shall we do with our insatiable little birthday girl next?"

Rhysand smirked, his hand drifting lower to tease along the slick seam of your folds. "Hmmm, so many options…" He slid one thick finger inside you, groaning at the tight heat that engulfed him. "This greedy cunt could use another good fucking. Or maybe…" Another digit joined the first, pumping steadily as he spoke. "We could edge you for hours, keep you right on the brink until you're sobbing for release."

His thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing firm circles that made you jolt and keen. "Or perhaps something a bit more… adventurous?"

You pouted, eyes crossed in the pleasure of his fingers, "Don't torture me... It's my birthday..."

"Aww, don't worry baby," Rhysand cooed, continuing his relentless finger-fucking. "We would never deny our precious birthday girl anything she desires." He added a third digit, stretching you deliciously as he curled them to hit that special spot deep inside.

Feyre hummed thoughtfully, watching your reactions with rapt attention. "I think our lovely y/n deserves the ultimate pleasure today," she purred, her clever fingers finding your aching nipples and pinching lightly. "How about a nice hard cock splitting you open? I bet you'd love to feel Rhys pounding into your sweet cunt…"

Her filthy words sent a bolt of pure lust straight to your core. Moaning wantonly, you arched into their touches, desperate for more stimulation.

"Ooh, I like the way you think," Rhysand purred, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your dripping cunt with a wet squelch. He brought them to his lips, sucking your essence off with relish. "Nothing quite like the taste of our princess on my tongue."

Feyre licked her lips hungrily as she watched him, desire smoldering in her gaze. "Let's give her exactly what she wants, shall we?"

Rhysand smirked, shifting his position between your splayed thighs. He notched the broad head of his impressive cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that made you whimper and clench needily around nothing.

"That's it, baby," He growled approvingly. "Gonna fill this greedy thing up real good."

"Please please please…" You begged, writhing beneath him, desperate to be filled.

With a wicked grin, Rhysand finally obliged, sinking into your welcoming heat with one powerful thrust. A guttural moan tore from his throat as your velvety walls clenched around him like a vice. "Fuuuuck," he groaned, savoring the exquisite sensation of being enveloped by your slick heat. "Always so goddamn tight for me."

Feyre watched avidly as he began to move, setting a deep, driving rhythm that quickly had you panting and clawing at his back. Each stroke stretched you deliciously, hitting all the right spots inside until stars burst behind your eyelids.

"Yes, just like that," She urged breathlessly, her own arousal mounting as she witnessed your pleasure.

"That's it, baby, take it all," Rhysand groaned, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. The obscene slap of flesh echoed through the room, mingling with your wanton moans and the creaking of the bed frame.

Feyre's eyes were riveted to where you were joined, transfixed by the sight of his thick cock disappearing into your cunt again and again. "Look at you, taking him so well," She praised huskily, reaching down to circle your throbbing clit with her fingertips. "Such a perfect little cock sleeve for your High Lord."

"Mmmm, you're right," Rhysand panted, his thrusts growing harder and faster as he chased his impending peak. "Our pretty little girl loves getting stuffed full of cock, doesn't she?"

He punctuated his words with a particularly forceful snap of his hips, burying himself to the hilt inside your quivering body. Your answering wail was music to his ears, spurring him on as he rode you with wild abandon.

Feyre continued to work your sensitive bud, alternating between firm presses and maddeningly light caresses. Combined with Rhysand's relentless pounding, it wasn't long before you were teetering on the very precipice of ecstasy.

"Rhys!" You cried, eyes rolling back as the coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter. Your inner muscles fluttered wildly around his pistoning shaft, trying desperately to draw him deeper. You reached out to grip Feyre's arm, making her finger press harder on your clit.

"Cum for us, baby," Rhysand commanded, his voice a dark rumble that vibrated through you. "Let go and surrender to the pleasure." With a few more powerful thrusts, he buried himself fully inside you and stilled, grinding against your cervix as his hot seed erupted in thick spurts.

The feeling of his pulsing cock flooding your womb pushed you over the edge into blissful oblivion. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and turning your vision white, making your ears ring.

As the last tremors of your climax subsided, Rhysand carefully withdrew from your oversensitive flesh, leaving you feeling empty and bereft. A trickle of his cum seeped out of your abused hole, painting your thighs with pearlescent streaks.

"Mmm, such a pretty mess," Feyre purred appreciatively, swiping a finger through the sticky fluid and bringing it to her mouth for a taste. Her pink tongue darted out to lap at the digits, savoring the musky flavor with a low moan.

Rhysand chuckled at her enthusiasm, pressing a tender kiss to your sweat-dampened brow. "Rest now, love," he murmured softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Regain your strength, we have so much more fun planned for you today."

You drifted off into a sated slumber, lulled by the steady thrum of your lovers' heartbeats and the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they cleaned you up. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you floated in that hazy space between dreams and reality, contentment suffusing every fibre of your being.

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff}

{Rhysand Taglist- @yeonalie}

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whimsicalmeerkat · 2 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

@dear-massacre tagged me last week and when I asked what she wanted a snippet from she picked demon Stiles. Here’s the beginning of the next chapter of devil don’t take a break!

John grips the wheel, hands at ten and two, and tries not to panic or overreact or, god forbid, let on to Stiles just how out of his depth he feels. And not just feels. Is. John is a human man who fell in love with a soul eater. He still finds the world of the supernatural daunting and frequently frightening. Despite the apparent quiet in the last several years, having a trouble magnet for a son who is also a soul eater means John has been expecting some sort of drama.

He didn't expect Stiles to bond someone at 16, though. He's not ready for that by any stretch of the imagination. It's clearly happened, though. He is deeply curious about that story, but first things first. They have to find Derek and get him help before whoever plugged that hole in him comes back around.

Stiles is noticeably quiet on the drive to a part of town John rarely sees at night. It’s industrial, but it’s new enough it hasn’t picked up a reputation of being a good spot for crime. Other than teens getting bored and tagging up every wall in sight, that is. He sends a look in Stiles’ direction. He’s always suspected his son might have a bent in that direction if something pushed him just right.

When John sees Stiles is anxiously chewing on his hoodie string and jiggling his leg so fast it looks like it hurts, he wishes some light vandalism was the worst thing he had to face with Stiles.

“We’re almost there,” John tells Stiles, trying to project a calm he doesn’t feel.

Stiles just nods and worries the string with his teeth.

“It had to have been the Argents, but the MO is wrong,” Stiles says suddenly.

“What do you mean?” John asks, curious how much Stiles knows about the famous hunting family.

“Chris favors crossbows,” Stiles says. “That’s what he shot Scott with and Allison is some sort of champion archer. Why would he suddenly use a sniper rifle?

“The Argents are arms dealers, albeit legal ones,” John tells Stiles, hopping he doesn’t end up regretting it. “Chris is probably trained in all kinds of weapons. You can’t assume you know what he’ll use in a given scenario.”

John hates that he sounds like he’s preparing his kid for fights, but not as much as he hates how necessary it seems right now. Not in an active sense. He doesn’t hold with vigilantism, his son’s long term obsession with Batman notwithstanding. He hates knowing that at some point, his son will likely be in a situation that even his clever mouth can’t talk him out of. Honestly, the odds are decent he’ll have talked himself into the situation in the first place.

“Isn’t that the turn?” Stiles asks.

John swears and brakes the cruiser before pulling to the side of the street. He hasn’t overshot by much.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” he tells Stiles, secretly relieved Stiles was paying that much attention to his surroundings.

They get out of the car and Stiles immediately heads down a small alley between buildings. John follows, knowing the bond will lead Stiles straight to Derek. Claudia wasn’t hurt very badly or often, but John remembers how the general sense of where she was became something more like a homing beacon in those times. He takes a look around quickly, then follows Stiles.

“Over here,” Stiles calls softly as John enters the alley. “He’s passed out cold.”

John can’t help but groan. “We’re gonna have to carry him out.”

Low pressure tags: @lucky-bishop @eevylynn @thotpuppy @mswhich and anyone else who wants to play!

#wip wednesday #sterek #teen wolf #demon stiles #devil don’t take a break #author:whimsicalmeerkat

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dumpsterfire-daydreams · 2 days ago

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Important plot points, König and reader fluff, TW: mild sexual shame, nervous König, comforting reader

Reader POV:

Any thoughts of attending practice were long gone as König happily snuggled in bed with you instead. You hoped that he at least had some excuse or alibi ready, though. The thought of Price catching you breaking rules again after already getting in trouble for that the day before made you a bit nervous. But at the same time, you guessed he would be understanding. You were both young and in love. And since you rarely ever got time to spend together, one missed practice couldn’t be the end of the world.

"Okay, I have to ask," you laughed, signaling to him that you wanted to sit up. "You said I was your first. So, how are you this good at sex?"

"I'm just lucky," he laughed, rolling off of you. But there was a poorly concealed nervousness in his voice. "You're a great teacher, Maus."

Sensing there was more going on than he wanted to admit, you gave him a skeptical squint and pressed the issue. "While I'm flattered at the compliment, no one on earth is that lucky or catches on that quick. Come on, you can tell me!"

"Well," König sat up, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "When I told everyone you'd be visiting, Soap might have given me some… study materials. To prepare."

"Oh my god," your mind reeled in shock. "It was porn. Soap gave the man porn!" No wonder he had been so invested in your bedroom shenanigans! All the winks and suggestive glances? He probably knew every detail of what König would do to you! Because he'd given him all the ideas himself!

Though your face flushed at the thought, you weren’t angry at König. Both of your schedules were often packed to the brim. And because of that, even you had no qualms about pleasuring yourself on your own to bridge the gap or just relax. But König had never really seemed the type to do the same. He always seemed so innocent somehow.

"It was only a little! Just enough to give me some... Well, some inspiration. To get started," he rushed, before meekly hanging his head in shame. "…But I admit to exploring a bit on my own, too."

"There's no shame in that! It's okay! I'm not upset. Just surprised!"

Clearly, the topic of self-pleasure was still a source of guilt for him. Seeing him this distraught over watching a little porn was surprising, but you could also relate since you'd been there yourself at one point. The reminder instantly made you sympathetic, urging you to help him overcome it however you could. But having gotten past the initial confession, he quickly returned to cuddling. His hands trailed over your body distractingly and you knew he was attempting to halt the discussion there. But you had so many questions now and weren't ready to drop the topic just yet.

"Well, now I'm curious. I've admitted my kinkier tastes." You poked his thigh playfully. "It's your turn now. What kind of stuff are you into that you haven't told me?"

The skin around his eyes flushed a deep red as he dropped his hands to his sides and looked away. "...I'd rather not say. It's nothing."

"König, I promise you. At this point, there's nothing you could say that would shock me! There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re both adults here."

He continued to hesitate, so you rolled over and wrapped your arms around him. König accepted the warm gesture, but jolted when he felt his phone slip out of his pocket before you danced out of his reach with it in hand.

"Maus, what are you doing!"

"We’ll rip it off like a band-aid, okay? I'll just take a peek. …Bitte?"

He quickly sat up on the edge of the bed, moving as if about to chase after you. But he hung back, mind spinning so fast you could practically hear the gears turning. His eyes were a bit wide and he was still blushing furiously. But after a shaky sigh, he told you the pass code and you unlocked his phone.

"Just promise me," he whispered. "Promise you won't think differently of me?"

"I'm sure it's nothing I haven't seen before," you reassured him, navigating to his browser. "I just want to know how to make you feel as good as you make me feel. That’s all!"

As he sat there fidgeting, you scrolled through his search history. Just from the fact that it was all still there made it evident he was very new to this. No incognito mode and not a single thing had been deleted! The lines of text flew by in a blur as you scrolled to the bottom of the list, choosing to work your way up from there. You were curious to see what Soap had sent him and how things had developed from there.

Most of it was pretty basic: a lot of missionary stuff, erotic massage tutorials, and a few anatomical diagrams of the female form. From what you knew of Soap, you wouldn’t have been shocked to find the most obscene and lewd content, some sent as jokes and some for guidance. But Soap had thankfully started him off slow. He was actually taking König under his wing and trying to help him out without overwhelming him right out the gate. It reminded you of how a parent might educate a son. And it was kinda sweet!

But past that point, you could immediately tell that König had started to take over. Your eyebrows piqued with interest as you retraced König's steps. There were multiple entries that centered around the female orgasm. What it looked like, how it felt for her, and different ways to achieve it. He had literally searched the phrases "how to touch a girl right", "does sex hurt for girls", and "how to make a girl feel good in bed". It was so innocent, so thoughtful. He was definitely interested in sex, but he hadn't been solely focused on his own pleasure. He had been determined to make this a good experience for you too! And it warmed your heart.

From there, things began to sharply diverge as he had begun exploring his own curiosities. There were images of men kneeling before leather-clad women, ropes fastened tightly around their bodies. There were saved videos depicting burly-looking men in handcuffs or blindfolds, begging for permission to orgasm as a dominatrix spanked them with a paddle. And suddenly, his recent behavior began to make sense. König was a sub! Or, at the very least, the idea intrigued him.

"Do you like the idea of me being in charge during sex?" you asked gently, trying to help him open up.

But König wouldn't meet your eyes, instead focusing on straightening the blankets. "I don't know. Maybe? …Yes?"

"König, I think you're a sub."

His eyes widened. "What does that mean? Is it bad?! Maus, I'm sorry! I can fix it!"

"No, no," you laughed. "It's not bad! I'm one too! Remember when I asked you to choke me?"

"But I can't!" he whined. "It doesn't feel right. It makes me feel like a monster and I hate it."

"I know! But what about if I choked you? Would that feel right? Would it feel good?"

He paused, thinking for a moment. "I think I might like that? I don't know. It felt unfair to ask after I told you no."

You took a moment to give him a brief crash course of BDSM. The short speech covered topics like roleplay, bondage, and pain for sexual pleasure. And you made sure to thoroughly explain the difference between a dominant and a submissive. As you did so, König seemed to relax a bit more as understanding started to kick in.

"And you are a sub too, yes?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Mmhmm! I wonder if we both are! Because I was willing to give it a try earlier, I can't really get into a dom headspace either. It’s just not my cup of tea. But we both want the same things done to us, but the idea of doing them to someone else makes us uncomfortable."

König paused, processing your words. "Interesting."

Relaxing a bit more, König laid back on the bed. He lay there silently mulling over this new information as you continued to explore. But what you found next made your eyes grow wide in shock. Link after link, from that point all the way up to just a few days ago, he'd only searched for one specific theme: "Two boys and one girl", "Three people having sex", "Two men sharing a girl". And it wasn't long until he’d found the specific genre he was looking for. Threesomes, cuckolding, threesomes, group sex, threesomes, threesomes, threesomes. In a knee-jerk reaction that you instantly regretted, your jaw dropped. And König immediately covered his face, well aware of what you had finally discovered.

"I'm so sorry," he cried. "You probably think I'm disgusting. It's sick, I know. What girl wants her lover fantasizing about sharing her with another man? Who does that?"

"König-," you began, coming over to sit beside him. You turned off his phone, not wanting the sight of the evidence to upset him even further. But it was no use as he continued to ramble.

"I love you!" he pleaded. "I really do, I mean it! I don't want you to think that I am not satisfied. That I'm not content with just you as you are. I never should have looked at such a thing. And I'll never look at it again, I swear on my life!"

"König!" You shook him by the shoulders, trying to snap him out of his rapid descent into despair. Or at the very least, break his fall. "I'm not disgusted! I was just totally caught off guard! But if that's what you like, it's okay!"

He sniffled softly, looking up at you with puffy, tear-filled eyes. "Really?"

"Yes! If it's something that you enjoy or something that you'd like to try, I'm okay with that. Honest. …Is it something you'd like to try?"

König sat quietly, wiping his eyes and thinking for a moment. “Are you sure you’d be comfortable with that?”

Now, it was your turn to stop and think. All of your past relationships had been strictly monogamous. So you’d never experienced anything beyond that. And, though the idea was definitely intriguing, there were a lot of details you needed to iron out first before you made a decision.

“Well,” you started. “It depends. If we tried this, how would the relationship work long-term? Are you just wanting to have a threesome with random people every now and then? Or are you wanting all three of us to be in the relationship together?”

“I think having three of us all the time would be good,” König said, wincing a bit as if just the proposition would earn your anger or disgust. But when you remained just as calm and open as before, he continued. “If we can find a - how did you say? - dominant? Then maybe both of us can get what we need without putting pressure on each other or being uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” you went further, stroking your chin. “Well, have you thought about what gender you’d want a potential third to be? I personally prefer being dominated by a man, but we’ve never really discussed what floats our boats in that area.”

“I’ve never had sex with a man before, of course.” He shifted on the bed, tilting his head as he thought the idea over. “But as long as they’re in charge, their gender is not important. So I’m open to that.”

"Okay,” You nodded as the pieces all came together into a solid mental picture. “Well, based on all that, I'm totally on board with this if you ever want to try it. But there's no rush, okay?"

König nodded, rolling over to give you a tight hug. "Thank you for understanding, Maus. I was so scared I'd upset you. I didn’t want to lose you over something like this."

“Hey, it's okay,” you hugged him just as tight, rubbing his back "Of course. I want you to feel safe telling me anything, okay?"

"Maus, you have my word."

The two of you sat there on the bed, hugging for a good while. You could feel his breathing finally slow back down as he relaxed in your arms. Such a massive man curled up against you. It was unexpected, but it made you feel a bit protective. He was a formidable soldier, a ruthless opponent, and a fearless foe. But after the battle was won, he was still your König at his core. König, the gentle giant. Your loving companion. An innocent soul. And you never wanted that to change.

After a moment, he giggled and pulled back.

“What?” you asked, laughing along but a bit confused.

“As I said before. I love you very much, Maus. But I think you might need a shower.”

You sniffed your armpit and made a face, laughing. “Oh God, I think you’re right.”

He took a whiff of his own shirt and continued laughing, fanning his nose. "I'm not much better myself though."

Both of you stood, not wanting the scent to seep into his bed anymore than it already had. But as you made your way to the door, you cast a mischievous look over your shoulder.

“You wanna join me? We’ll save water that way~”

After how your first night went, you knew he likely had a few more rounds in him. But this time, he showed restraint and reached for his vest.

“The offer is very tempting," he said with a smirk, slipping it back into place. "But unfortunately, I won’t have time. Ghost is leading target practice soon. And after missing EMT, I don’t want to get into any more trouble.”

“Fiiiine,” you gave in with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll see you tonight though! Then we can party our cares away!”

He leaned down, pulling you into one more prolonged kiss before heading for the door. "I look forward to it."

As König grasped the knob, he paused and lingered there a moment longer. "....Maus?"

"Yes?" You answered suggestively, convinced he had already changed his mind on your proposition. But his voice wasn't flirty. It was the tiniest bit nervous again.

"Um, don't be mad," he said timidly. "But when I get back, there's a bit more I need to tell you. Okay?"

"Really? I'm not upset, but okay!" Your perked up all over again, dying to hear whatever it was he had saved for last. Was he really going to leave you on a cliffhanger like that? Just knowing there were more juicy details had you on the edge of your seat. And from what he'd already revealed, whatever he was clammed up about had to be the juiciest bit ever! But though you were tempted to make him spill the beans, you knew he had somewhere to be. So you restrained your excitement and didn't delay him any longer.

"I'll really be looking forward to that!" You laughed. And after waving goodbye, König slipped out the door.

#konig call of duty #konig x reader #simon riley x konig x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod smut #ghost x reader #yhsiw #simon ghost riley x reader

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