#and also making sure i got as much as i could

[abbotjack]

God I hate to be that person but ughhhhhh I love that jack fic where they find out reader is pregnant and I'm CRAVING a second part to that (if you're u to of course). Like, how it'd be during her pregnancy, him being sweet but also worried and protective. Omg I need more soft jack w a baby on the way!!!!!

The Camouflage Onesie

part two of he begins to notice (read this first!)

content warnings: pregnancy, medical references, nausea/morning sickness, sexual content (explicit but consensual), body image changes, hormonal shifts, domestic intimacy, emotional vulnerability, labor and delivery scene, emotionally intense partner support, and high emotional/physical dependency within a marriage. yeah. pregnancy

word count : 5,735

WEEK 5

The test turned positive on a Sunday. By Monday morning, the entire medicine cabinet had been rearranged like it was a trauma cart.

Your moisturizer had been nudged over to make room for prescription-grade prenatals, a bottle of magnesium, a DHA complex, and—of all things—two individually labeled pill sorters with day-of-the-week dividers. One pink. One clear. Yours and Jack's, apparently.

You found him in the kitchen at 6:42 a.m., already in scrubs. He was calmly cutting the crusts off toast while listening to NPR and making a second cup of coffee for himself.

When he turned, he gave you a long once-over—not in a critical way, but diagnostic. Like he was scanning you for vitals only he could see.

“You’re flushed,” he said. “And your pupils are dilated. You feel dizzy yet?”

You furrowed your brow. “No?”

“Good. You’re hydrating better than I thought.”

You blinked. “Jack, I haven’t even said good morning.”

He walked over and handed you a glass of room-temp water. “I’m loving you with medically sourced precision.”

You stared at the glass. “This isn’t cold.”

“Cold water upsets your stomach. Lukewarm helps with early bloat.”

“Jack.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He tilted his head. “I’ve watched septic patients stabilize faster than accountants facing a positive Clearblue. I know exactly what this is.”

You pressed your hands to your face and groaned. “You’re not going to hover this much every week, are you?”

Jack leaned down, brushing a kiss over your shoulder. “No. Some weeks I’ll hover more.”

“I made your appointment already,” he said, voice casual. “Friday. Dr. Patel. 3:40.”

You blinked. “You didn’t even ask me.”

“She owes me a favor,” Jack said. “Got her niece into ortho during the peak of the shortage last year. Trust me—she’ll take care of you.”

You frowned, stunned. “How did you even pull that off so fast?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart. I’m an ER doctor. I have connections. I can get my wife seen before the week’s out.”

Your eyes welled up suddenly—caught off guard by how steady he was, how sure. You were still half-floating in disbelief. Jack was already ten steps ahead, clearing the path.

WEEK 6

You learned very quickly that pregnancy was a full-time job—and Jack approached it with quiet precision.

The first time you dry-heaved over the kitchen sink, he didn’t rush in with a solution. He didn’t lecture or hover. He just stepped into the room, leaned against the counter, and waited until you looked up.

“Still thinking about that leftover pasta?” he asked softly.

You made a face. “Don’t say the word pasta.”

He crossed the kitchen, wordless, and pulled open a drawer. Out came a wrapped ginger chew. Then he disappeared down the hall.

When he returned, he had your cardigan in one hand and a bottle of lemon water in the other.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

Jack handed you the water first. “You always run cold when you’re nauseous. But I know you’ll refuse a blanket if you’re flushed.”

You stared.

He draped the cardigan over your shoulders.

“You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know when you want toast.”

You half-laughed, half-cried, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “You don’t have to be this gentle every second.”

Jack leaned in. “I’m not being gentle. I’m being exact. There’s a difference.”

Later that night, you sat curled up on the couch, still wrapped in the cardigan, while Jack quietly swapped your usual diffuser oil with something new.

“Peppermint,” he said when you asked. “Helps with queasiness.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And the bin next to the couch?”

“Let’s call it contingency planning.”

You smirked. “You’re really building systems around me, huh?”

Jack looked at you—soft, certain. “No. I’m building them for you.”

He moved across the room and brushed your hair back off your forehead, thumb pausing at your temple like he could smooth out whatever discomfort lingered there.

“You’re not the patient,” he murmured. “You’re the constant. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep the ground steady under your feet.”

You didn’t have a clever reply.

You just pulled him onto the couch beside you and tucked yourself into his chest—grateful beyond words that this was who you got to build a life with.

WEEK 9

Jack was folding laundry on the bed when you walked into the room barefoot, carrying a bowl of cereal and wearing his old college sweatshirt.

You caught his glance. “What?”

He shook his head, smiled a little. “Just thinking you wear my clothes better than I ever did.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. He set a towel down. Reached for your bowl as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“I got it,” you said.

“I know,” he murmured, holding it anyway while you shifted the pillow behind your back. Once you were settled, he handed it back.

You took a bite, then glanced at the basket of half-folded laundry.

“You know that’s mostly my stuff, right?”

Jack looked at the pile. “It’s ours. Who else is gonna fold your seven thousand pairs of fuzzy socks?”

You laughed into your spoon.

He leaned against the dresser and just looked at you for a second. Not in a way that made you self-conscious—just soft. Familiar.

“You’re quieter this week,” he said.

You shrugged. “I’m tired.”

He nodded. “Want to go somewhere this weekend? Just us?”

“Like where?”

“Nowhere big. Just—out of the house. We could rent a cabin. Lay around. Sleep until noon. Let you pretend I’m not watching you nap like it’s my full-time job.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You do that now?”

“Not always. Just when you start snoring like a golden retriever pup.”

“Jack.”

He grinned, walked over, and kissed your temple.

“Alright, no trips. But at least let me cook something tonight. Something warm.”

You sighed. “You already do too much.”

He looked at you seriously then, crouched a little so you were eye-level.

“I don’t keep score,” he said. “I’m your husband. You’re growing our kid. If all I have to do is make dinner and fold socks, I’m getting off easy.”

WEEK 14

By week fourteen, the second trimester hit like an exhale.

You weren’t queasy every morning anymore. Your appetite returned. You could brush your teeth without gagging. And Jack, for the first time in weeks, actually relaxed enough to sit through an entire episode of something without checking on you mid-scene.

You were curled on the couch together—your head in his lap—when he slid his hand beneath your shirt and rested it on the soft curve of your stomach.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re subtle.”

“I’m consistent.”

You snorted. “You’re clingy.”

His thumb brushed just under your ribs. “I’m memorizing.”

You shifted slightly, tucking your feet closer. “You already know everything about me.”

Jack looked down at you, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I know the before. This part? This is new.”

He went quiet, and you could feel the shift in him—something deeper, more reverent than before.

“I’ve seen pregnancy before,” he said. “But I’ve never… watched it happen to someone I come home to.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You okay?”

Jack nodded slowly. “I just keep thinking… you’re building someone I haven’t met yet. And I already know I’d give my life for them.”

Your throat tightened. You reached for his hand where it rested on your stomach, lacing your fingers through his.

“We’re doing okay, right?”

Jack bent down, kissed your forehead. “You’re doing better than okay.”

You smiled. “We’re a good team.”

“The best,” he said. “Even if you keep stealing all the pillows.”

You laughed. “You sleep like a corpse. You don’t need them.”

He grinned. “You’re getting cocky now that the nausea’s eased.”

“You’ll miss her when she’s gone.”

“No, I’ll just be glad to have you back.”

You rolled your eyes. “You have me.”

Jack kissed you again. Longer this time.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

WEEK 15

It started with the baby books.

Not the ones you bought. The ones Jack picked up—three of them, stacked neatly on the nightstand one morning after a grocery run you hadn’t joined him on.

You noticed them after your shower. He was still in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, humming something that definitely wasn’t in tune. But the titles made you pause.

“‘What to Expect for Dads,’” you read aloud, holding the top one up when he walked in. “You going soft on me?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Hardly. Just figured if you’re doing the building, I can at least read the manual.”

You smirked, flipping through a page. “You’re the manual.”

“I’m the triage guy. I don’t have maternal instincts. I have protocols.”

You leaned back against the headboard. “You’re being humble, but you’re gonna ace this.”

He shrugged, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just want to know what’s coming. I’ve done newborn shifts. I’ve handed babies to people shaking so hard they could barely hold them. But this? This isn’t a shift. This is us.”

You touched his arm. “You’ve already done more than I can even keep track of.”

Jack looked at you for a long moment. Then placed his hand over yours. “I don’t want to just be useful. I want to be good. For both of you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

So you leaned forward and kissed him—gentle, deep. His hand slid to your stomach as naturally as breathing.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “You already are.”

That night, when he thought you were asleep, he cracked open the book again.

And stayed up past midnight reading about swaddling, latch cues, and the difference between Braxton Hicks and the real thing.

WEEK 16

Jack stood in the doorway of your office for almost a full minute before saying anything.

You looked up from your laptop, eyebrows raised. “What?”

He didn’t move. Just scanned the room—your desk, the bookshelf, the little armchair in the corner that you never actually used.

Then, finally: “Is our house big enough for this?”

You blinked. “For what?”

He gestured vaguely toward your belly, then the room. “All of it. A baby. Crib. Noise. Diapers. More laundry. Less sleep.”

You smiled gently. “I thought we were turning this room into the nursery.”

“We are,” he said quickly. “I just… I keep running scenarios in my head. And this place felt huge when it was just us.”

You closed your laptop. “Jack.”

He looked at you.

“We’ll figure it out. We already are.”

He crossed the room, leaned against your desk. “I’m not trying to panic.”

“I know.”

“I just keep thinking about how everything’s going to change. I want to make sure we still feel like us once it does.”

You stood and wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting against his chest. “We will. You think too far ahead sometimes.”

“That’s my job,” he murmured.

“And mine is reminding you that it’s okay to not solve everything all at once.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I know. I just want it to be enough.”

WEEK 19

Jack was unusually quiet on the drive to the anatomy scan.

Not anxious. Just focused in a way that told you his brain had been working overtime since the moment he woke up. His hand rested on your thigh at every red light, thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of your leggings.

“You good?” you asked, turning down the radio.

He glanced over, nodded once. “Just running through the checklist in my head.”

You smiled gently. “You’re not at work, babe.”

“I know. But I’ve never seen one of these as a husband.”

You reached over and laced your fingers through his. “You don’t have to be perfect today. You just have to be here.”

He gave you a look. “I am here. That’s the problem. I’m so here I can’t think about anything else.”

The waiting room was dim, quiet, and smelled vaguely like lemon disinfectant. Jack sat beside you, legs spread in his usual posture, one hand on your knee. His thumb tapped once. Then again. Then stopped.

The tech was warm, professional. She dimmed the lights. Asked if you wanted to know the sex. You said yes before Jack could answer.

You held your breath as the screen lit up in shades of blue and gray.

“Everything’s looking healthy,” the tech said. “Strong spine, great heartbeat, long legs.”

Jack tightened his grip on your hand.

“And it looks like you’re having a girl.”

You exhaled all at once. Then laughed. Or maybe cried. It blurred together.

Jack didn’t say anything right away. Just stared at the monitor, jaw tense, eyes glassy.

You turned to look at him. “Jack.”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I just—” He swallowed. “She’s real.”

The rest of the appointment was a haze—measurements, murmurs of “good growth,” the gentle swipe of gel off your stomach. Jack didn’t let go of your hand the entire time.

That night, you came out of the bathroom in an old t-shirt and found him standing at the dresser, staring down at something small in his hand.

You stepped closer. “What’s that?”

He held it up without looking—one of the newborn onesies you’d bought weeks ago in a moment of cautious optimism. Light yellow. Soft cotton.

“You think she’ll fit in this?” he asked.

You smiled. “They’re tiny, Jack. That’s kind of the whole point.”

He nodded but didn’t move.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind. “You’re allowed to feel everything. It’s a big day.”

He turned, wrapped his arms around you carefully. “I think I was more afraid of not feeling it.”

You pressed your forehead to his. “You’re allowed to be happy.”

“I am,” he said, voice rough. “I just keep thinking about how I’m going to keep her safe. How I’m going to teach her to breathe through chaos. How I’ll probably mess it up a hundred times.”

“You’re not going to mess it up.”

He looked at you. “You really think that?”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

Jack smiled for real then. “You’ve always been the smarter one.”

You rolled your eyes. “But you’re the one who’s going to end up wrapped around her finger.”

He kissed your temple. “That part was inevitable.”

WEEK 25

Jack convinced you to finally start looking at houses.

You’d been reluctant—emotionally attached to the place you’d built your early marriage in, skeptical about change when everything in your life already felt like it was shifting—but Jack had waited. Quietly. Patiently.

And then one morning, while you were brushing your teeth, he leaned in behind you, kissed your shoulder, and said, “You deserve a bigger closet.”

That was how it started.

Now, you were standing in a half-empty living room with sun pouring through tall windows and a sold sign posted out front.

Jack had just gotten off the phone with your realtor. “It’s official,” he said, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Inspection cleared. We close in three weeks.”

You blinked. “We really bought a house.”

He walked over, wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, rested his chin on your shoulder. “Correction: we bought your dream closet.”

You laughed. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I am. Also, there’s a window bench in the nursery. You don’t even have to try to make it Pinterest-worthy.”

You leaned into him, eyes scanning the bare walls. “I can already picture her here.”

Jack pressed a kiss to your neck. “I already do. I see her trying to climb that windowsill. Leaving fingerprints on every square inch of the fridge. Falling asleep on the stairs with a book she couldn’t finish.”

Your throat tightened.

You turned in his arms. “You really love it?”

He looked at you seriously. “I love what it gives you. I love that it lets you breathe. And yeah—I love that it’s ours.”

Later that night, back in your current house, you sat on the floor with your laptop open, scrolling through registry links and bookmarking soft pink paint samples. Jack handed you a cup of tea, then lowered himself on the couch beside you with a quiet grunt.

“Is it weird that I already want to be moved?” you asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s called nesting. I read about it in that chapter you skipped.”

You shot him a look. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the one folding swaddles while you build spreadsheets. This is our love language.”

You leaned into him, content. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

WEEK 27

You’d been on your feet all day—organizing documents, boxing up odds and ends, making lists of what needed to be moved and what could be donated. Jack told you to slow down three separate times, each time gentler than the last.

But now, at 8:43 p.m., you were barefoot in the kitchen, half bent over a drawer of mismatched utensils, when he walked in, tossed a dish towel on the counter, and said, “Okay. That’s it.”

You looked up. “What?”

Jack didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. He crossed the room, took the spatula from your hand, and gently nudged you toward a chair. “Sit. Let me take over.”

You blinked at him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re stubborn.”

You folded your arms. “Same thing.”

Jack crouched in front of you, resting his forearms on your knees. “You’ve done enough today. Let me be the husband who makes you sit down and drink something cold while I finish sorting forks from tongs.”

You softened, your fingers drifting to his hair. “I know you’re right. I just feel useless when I’m not doing something.”

“You’re 27 weeks pregnant,” Jack said, voice warm. “You made a person and folded three boxes of bath towels. That’s two more miracles than anyone else managed today.”

You exhaled and leaned back.

Later, when you were curled on the couch with a glass of iced water and your feet propped on a pillow, Jack settled next to you and tugged a blanket over both of you.

“House is gonna feel real soon,” he said.

You nodded. “She’s going to be born there.”

Jack’s arm slid around your shoulders. “We’ll bring her home to that nursery. Hang that weird mobile you picked that I still don’t understand.”

“You said it was ‘avant-garde.’”

“I was being polite.”

You smiled, tired and full. “We’re really doing it, huh?”

“We are.”

You rested your head on his chest. Jack’s hand drifted instinctively to your belly, and stayed there.

“Hey,” you said after a minute. “Thanks for making me sit.”

Jack kissed the top of your head. “Thanks for letting me.”

WEEK 30

You caught him standing in the doorway of the nursery around 9:00 p.m., arms folded, shoulder braced against the frame like he was keeping watch.

The room was nearly done. Diapers in bins. Chair assembled. Books on shelves. But Jack wasn’t looking at any of that. He was staring at the window, like he was imagining the light that would come through it in the early mornings.

You leaned against the opposite side of the doorway, watching him.

“What’s going on in that head?” you asked.

He glanced over at you. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

Jack cracked half a smile but didn’t move. “I keep picturing her. Not just baby-her. Grown-up her.”

You walked toward him. “What version?”

He tilted his head. “Seventeen. Wants to borrow the car. Has someone texting her who I probably don’t like.”

You laughed. “You’re already dreading a boyfriend?”

“I’m already dreading anyone who gets to be in her world without knowing what it cost us to build it.”

That stopped you.

Jack finally looked at you then—really looked. “She’s not even born yet and I already know I’d lay down in traffic for her. And I know how fast people can break things they don’t understand.”

You rested your hands on his chest. “You’re not going to be scary.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Well. You’ll look scary. Army vet. ER attending. Perpetual scowl. Built like you bench-press refrigerators for fun.”

He snorted. “Thanks.”

“But you’ll love her in a way no one will mistake for anything but devotion.”

Jack leaned down, pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m not good at soft,” he murmured.

“You’re good at us,” you whispered. “That’s all she’ll need.”

He pulled you into his arms then, one hand resting flat against the curve of your belly. “She’s gonna hate me when I make her come home early.”

“She’s gonna roll her eyes when you insist on meeting everyone she ever texts.”

Jack grinned. “Damn right.”

You laughed into his shirt. “You’re so screwed.”

“I know.”

But he held you a little tighter. Didn’t say anything else. Just stood there in the dim nursery, one arm wrapped around the two of you, as if holding his whole world in place.

WEEK 32

You’d read the pregnancy forums. The blog posts. The articles with vaguely medical sources claiming the third trimester came with a spike in libido. You thought you’d be too sore, too tired. Too preoccupied.

What you hadn’t expected was the absolute onslaught.

It was like your body had one setting: Jack. Crave him. Need him. Get him here, now, fast.

He’d just gotten home from a late shift, dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door, and disappeared into the shower while you laid in bed attempting to not whine out loud. That resolve lasted six minutes.

When he walked into the bedroom, towel low around his hips, water dripping down his chest, you didn’t even mean to say it:

“I’m gonna die.”

Jack froze.

He crossed the room in seconds. “What is it? Where’s the pain?”

You were already on your back, one hand pressed to your belly, the other covering your eyes.

“Not pain,” you groaned. “Just hormones. God, Jack—this is insane.”

He crouched beside you. “You need to describe what’s happening.”

You peeked at him from under your hand. “I need you. I need you.”

Jack stilled. Blinked. Then dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a long exhale.

“Christ. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, laughing into your wrist. “I just—I’m desperate. I thought it would go away. It’s not going away.”

He lifted his head. Smiled. “Desperate, huh?”

“You’re not helping.”

“I think I am.”

Jack kissed your temple, then your cheek, then hovered over your lips. “You sure you’re good?”

You reached for him. “No. I’m feral.”

He didn’t waste another second.

What followed wasn’t frantic—it was focused. Jack stripped you with efficiency and reverence, lips brushing every newly sensitive part of you. Your belly. Your hips. Your breasts. He murmured to you the whole time—gentle things, grounding things.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said, kissing the swell of your stomach. “You’ve been patient. Let me take care of you.”

“Please,” you whispered. “I feel insane.”

“I know. I’ve got you.”

He slid inside you slow, controlled, the way he always did when he wanted to make it last. But tonight, there was something more behind it—urgency without rush, intention without pressure.

You clawed at his shoulders, moaning into his neck. “Jack, Jack—”

“Right here.”

“I missed you today.”

“I missed you too. I always do.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, legs tightening around his waist. The angle shifted, and everything inside you splintered.

“Oh—God—don’t stop—”

Jack groaned, teeth catching your jawline. “You feel so good, sweetheart. So damn good.”

He guided you through it, one hand braced behind your head, the other cradling your hip like you’d break without it. When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears at the corners of your eyes.

He followed seconds later, low and deep and steady, body shaking over yours.

Afterward, he didn’t move. Just curled around you, one arm anchored under your shoulders, the other stroking your belly in long, soothing sweeps.

“Still dying?” he asked eventually.

You huffed a laugh. “Little bit.”

Jack smiled into your shoulder. “Guess I’ll keep checking your vitals.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your chest, then your stomach, whispering something you couldn’t hear but felt down to your bones.

When you shifted against him, needy again already, he looked up with a low laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Jack,” you breathed, “I’m not done.”

And Jack—predictable, capable, ready-for-anything Jack—just grinned.

“I never am with you.”

The second round was slower. Deeper. You rode his thigh first, panting against his neck, clinging to his shoulders while he whispered filth in your ear—soft, low things no one else would ever hear from him. He touched you like he already knew exactly what you’d need next week, next month, next year.

And when you collapsed against him again, trembling and sore and finally, finally full in every sense of the word—he kissed your forehead and said, “You’re everything.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

Jack tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

WEEK 35

The third trimester had turned your body into a full-time performance art piece. You were a living exhibit on discomfort, hydration, Braxton Hicks, and the high-stakes negotiation of shoe-tying. You’d stopped fighting the afternoon naps, started rotating three stretchy outfits on a loop, and made peace with the fact that gravity was no longer your friend.

Jack had adjusted too.

Without comment, he now drove you to every appointment. Without asking, he refilled your water before bed. Without blinking, he gave up half his side of the bathroom counter for the ever-expanding line of belly oils, cooling balms, and half-used jars of snacks.

But tonight?

Tonight he came home to find you crying at the kitchen table over a broken zipper on the diaper bag.

“Sweetheart.”

You looked up, cheeks blotchy. “It broke. It broke, Jack. And it was the only one I liked.”

“Hey, hey—breathe.”

You sniffled. “It had compartments. It had mesh.”

Jack took the bag gently from your hands, and examined the zipper like it was a patient in trauma.

“Looks jammed,” he said. “Not broken.”

You stared at him. “You don’t know that.”

He looked up. “I do.”

He walked over to the toolbox without fanfare, and returned two minutes later with a small pair of pliers. Thirty seconds after that, the zipper slid closed like nothing had happened.

You burst into tears again.

Jack set the bag down and pulled you into his arms. “Hormones?”

You nodded into his chest. “I love you so much.”

He smiled against your hair. “You want to take a bath?”

You sniffed. “Will you sit on the floor with me?”

“I’ll bring the towel and everything.”

Which is how twenty minutes later you were in the tub, steam curling around the mirror, your swollen belly just breaching the surface, while Jack sat on the floor, reading your baby book aloud like it was scripture.

“She’s the size of a honeydew,” he said, tapping the page. “Still gaining half a pound a week. Lungs developing. Rapid brain growth.”

You hummed. “She’s been moving a lot today.”

He smiled, reached over, and rested a palm over your belly. “She likes the sound of your voice.”

“She likes pizza. She tolerates me.”

Jack leaned over and kissed your temple. “She already loves you.”

You sighed, settling deeper into the water. “She’s going to love you more.”

Jack’s voice went quiet. “That’s not possible.”

You looked over.

He was watching you like he was memorizing the moment. Like he knew it wouldn’t last forever and wanted to hold every second of it.

“She’s got the best of you already,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “You’re the one who’s been steady through everything. She’s gonna know that.”

He kissed your hand. “She’s gonna know we did it together.”

And you believed him.

Even through the tears, the discomfort, the slow shuffle from couch to fridge to bed—you believed him.

WEEK 36

Jack came home with a basket.

Not from the store. Not from a delivery service. From the hospital. Carried under one arm like it was made of glass.

You were on the couch, half-watching a cooking show, half-rubbing the spot where the baby had been kicking for the last ten minutes straight. Jack came in, dropped his keys, and didn’t say anything at first.

He just set the basket on the coffee table and said, “Robby made me promise I wouldn’t forget to give this to you tonight.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jack gestured toward it. “It’s from the ER.”

Inside: a soft blanket. A framed photo of the team crowded around a whiteboard that read “Baby Abbot ETA: T-minus 4 weeks.” A pair of hand-knitted booties labeled “Perlah Originals.” A stack of index cards, each one handwritten—Dana’s in looping cursive, Collins’s in all caps, Princess’s with hearts dotting the i’s. Robby’s simply read: Your kid already has better taste in music than Jack. Congrats.

You turned one of the index cards over, reading Dana’s note about how you were going to be the kind of mom who made her daughter feel safe and loved in the same breath.

“I didn’t know they even noticed me,” you whispered.

Jack rubbed slow circles against your bump. “They notice what matters to me.”

You looked at him.

He shrugged. “You’re my wife. You’re not just around. You’re part of everything.”

The baby kicked again. Hard enough to make you gasp.

Jack smiled, leaned in, and kissed the place she’d just moved. “She agrees.”

WEEK 38

You’d read about nesting, but you thought it would look more like baking muffins at midnight—not following Jack from room to room like his gravitational pull physically outweighed yours.

He didn’t seem to mind. He’d brush his hand down your back every time you passed, help you off the couch like you were recovering from surgery, and kiss your temple every time he walked by.

By Thursday, the baby bag was packed and parked by the front door. You’d zipped it, unzipped it, and re-packed it twice just to check. And when Jack got home that evening, he nodded at it, then set something down beside it with a quiet thunk.

You glanced over. “What’s that?”

“My go-bag,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow.

Jack nudged it with the toe of his boot. “Army-issued. Carried this thing through two deployments and six different states. Thought it’d be fitting to bring it into the delivery room.”

You blinked. “You packed already?”

He nodded, unzipped the top, and tilted the bag open for you to see: a clean shirt, a hand towel, a toothbrush, a few protein bars, and a worn, dog-eared paperback you recognized instantly.

“That one?” you said, surprised. “You always said you hated it.”

“I did,” he admitted, zipping the bag shut again. “But it’s your favorite. I read your notes in the margins when I miss you on long shifts.”

You crossed the room and leaned into him. “You’re something else.”

WEEK 40

You woke up at 2:57 a.m. with a tight, rolling wave of pressure low in your spine. It wrapped around your middle like a band and didn’t let go.

Jack was already shifting beside you. Years in the Army meant he didn’t sleep deeply—not when he was home, not when you were pregnant.

“You okay?” he asked, groggy but alert.

You exhaled shakily. “It’s time.”

He sat up immediately. “How far apart?”

“Six minutes.”

“Let’s move.”

By the time you got in the car, the contractions were coming faster—steadier. Jack didn’t speed, but he gripped the steering wheel like the world depended on it.

You were wheeled in through the ER doors—because of course you were going into labor at the hospital where Jack worked. Princess met you at triage with a knowing smile.

“She’s in three,” Princess said. “Perlah’s setting it up now.”

You were halfway into the room when Jack froze.

He turned to Collins at the desk. “Patel?”

“Stuck behind a pileup on 376,” Collins said. “She’s trying to reroute.”

Jack muttered something under his breath and scanned the monitors. “Where’s Robby?”

“Down in trauma. He’s finishing up a round.”

Jack didn’t wait. He left you in Princess’s care and went straight for the trauma bay.

Robby was wiping his hands on a towel when Jack stepped in. Hoodie half-zipped. Scrubs wrinkled. Wide awake.

“She’s in labor?”

“She’s in active labor,” Jack said. “And Patel’s not gonna make it, but—”

“You want me in the room,” Robby finished.

“I need you in the room.”

Robby dropped the towel. “Done.”

When Robby stepped into your room, you exhaled like someone had lifted a weight off your chest.

“Hey, doc,” you muttered through a contraction.

“You’re in good hands,” Robby said, glancing between you and Jack. “You’ve got half the ER out there whispering about it.”

“Tell them if they bring me chocolate, they can stay,” you joked.

Perlah dimmed the lights. Princess wiped sweat from your forehead. Robby took your vitals himself and kept your eyes steady with his.

Hours blurred together. Jack never left your side.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“You’re doing perfect.”

“She’s almost here.”

Then everything started to move faster. Robby gave a nod to Princess and Perlah.

“One more push,” he said. “You’ve got this.”

Jack leaned close, his forehead against yours. “Come on, sweetheart. Right here. You’ve got her.”

And then—

A cry. Loud. Full. Brand new.

“She’s here,” Robby said quietly.

Jack didn’t move at first. Just watched. His eyes were wet. His hand covered his mouth.

Princess handed her to you, swaddled and squirming. Jack kissed your forehead and brushed a tear off your cheek.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered. “You did it.”

Later, after they’d cleaned up and the room was quiet, you watched Jack walk over to the bassinet. He held up a camouflage onesie.

“Oh my God,” you said. “Seriously?”

He looked over, completely straight-faced. “This is important.”

“You’re impossible.”

He kissed you once, then again. And held her like he’d waited his whole life.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is the 99th attempted clone Tim made of Kon. Kon learns about Danny.

Relevant info: Kon was dead closer to a year and a half in this au, and this happens a few months after his revival.

[Pt2: here] [Pt4: here]

So Tim has admittedly been putting off meeting up with the Titans. Everyone has settled back into the new normal. Too much has happened for it to look anything like before, but the other 3 Titans have been hanging out semi-regularly, and Tim turns down their invites 3 of 4 times. He knows it's starting to hurt their feelings, and he hates that.

But... he's scared to admit he's a father now. A father to a clone of one of them. He's not sure how to bring it up. Cassie never asked if he was successful, probably just assumed he failed because there isn't a third Superboy flying around. Jokes on her. Danny isn't going to be a Superboy. He's not allowed to even think about being a hero or vigilante until he's 14 at the earliest, and Tim is going to help him find his own name if he chooses that path. He won't be a Robin or Superboy. He won't live in the shadow of those legacies if Tim can help it.

None of that is relevant for the here and now, though. Tim got Jason to babysit Danny and finally agreed to a hang out with the Titans. He asked Danny for his opinion first before making his decision and got the go ahead. So, Tim is finally going to come clean.

Tim barely makes it into the tower when he's tackled by his friends.

"Tim! You're here!" Bart cheers.

"Yeah, it's good to see you guys too. Sorry I haven't been very present." Tim fidgets. "I've been busy... I also haven't been honest..."

"Tim?" Cassie sounds concerned. And Tim just can't. He extracts himself from the puppy pile. He can't make himself give eye contact. He's sure his guilt and shame are written all over his body language.

"Tim, you can tell us anything." Kon sounds super genuine. Tim takes a deep grounding breath.

"Okay, let's do this like a bandaid." Tim finally looks at them, focusing mostly on Kon. "I have a son. He's technically Kon's, too."

He gets the dubious pleasure of watching his three idiots look at his abdomen, as if he gave birth.

"Why-? Kon, we never fucked!? What the fuck guys??" He sputters, waving his hands in front of him.

"Then how-" Cassie realizes. "Oh!"

"Oh?? What do you mean??" Bart is looking between them and vibrating in confusion. Kon is just looking like a confused and concerned puppy.

"Okay, so, I may have had a breakdown with everyone dying or going missing." Tim grimaces. "And while I was fully aware that even if I succeeded, it wouldn't be Kon, I still tried to clone him. And, um, I did manage to succeed in the end."

"Fuck, Tim.." Kon starts.

"Look, I was in a really fucking dark place and needed even just a piece of good I lost." Tim hugs himself, self loathing burning him from the inside out. "Everyone was turning their back on me, I just needed something, anything, to keep going."

"Fuck, I should have helped..." Cassie bites her lip, chewing on her guilty conscious.

"It's fine. No one was listening. Don't beat yourself up over it. You were in a bad spot, too." Tim gives a humorless laugh. "Danny was my 99th attempt. And my last attempt, if I'm honest. I could feel myself breaking more with each failure. On a fucking whim, I decided to make the 99th attempt a baby instead of trying for a teenager, and it worked. I fucked up a bit, I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to that of a 1 year old, but he was alive. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I was scared to tell you. I'm sorry-"

"Tim.." Kon cuts him off, and Tim snaps his mouth shut. "I.. I'm honestly not sure how to feel about you cloning me, but I'd like to meet him. What's his name?"

Tim rapidly blinks back tears. "Aedan Drake, he prefers being called Danny. I.. I didn't add Kent because I don't trust Clark with him or give him an El name, I wanted him to understand kryptonian language and culture first. I... I also wanted Danny to be old enough to make the decision over his name himself. I don't want him to be treated like you were. The house of El were so awful to you."

"I understand, Tim." Kon steps towards Tim, "Can.. Can I hug you?"

Tim nods and is swept into a tight hug. He feels something give emotionally, and he sobs into his shoulder. "I fucking love him so much."

"Tell me about him." Kon says softly. He can feel Bart and Cassie hoving, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave.

"He's physically around 3 now. He loves ghosts and space and named the wolf plushy I bought him on his first day alive Wulf." There's some chuckles over that. "He's sassy and petty, but insanely sweet and tries to help out with any and all tasks. I see so much of both of us in him. Nature vs Nurture is a messy bitch. You remember what I said my start as Robin was like?"

"How you had to babysit a grown ass man and force him into better habits?" Cassie snarks.

"Karma's a funny bitch. Danny started doing the same shit to me as soon as he figured out how to walk." Tim giggles. "Anytime we weren't in danger, he'd force me to take care of injuries and to eat and sleep. And I'd do it because what kind of monster denies a baby trying to be helpful... plus he gets really stressed and depressed if he can't help."

Tim grips the back of Kon's shirt. "I don't understand how he developed my people pleaser tendencies so early on. We were stuck on LoA bases when he first started doing everything in his power to help me. I was purposely being a little shit to our "hosts" at the time. So it wasn't a surprise that he developed a Robin's need to troll, but he only saw me be nice to him."

"The LoA??" Kon asks in alarm.

"It was a rough year..." Tim scowls. "And if I see Ra's again, I'm gutting him. B's rules be damned."

"What happened?" Cassie asks, suddenly a lot closer.

"He's a creep, a pedo, and a child abuser." Kon rubs Tim's suddenly very stiff back and shoulders. "I could handle him being creepy towards me. While gross and awful to have a disgusting 300 or something year old man trying to wife me-"

"Excuse me???"

"He WHAT?"

"-I'm more pissed I couldn't protect Danny. I don't know what that piece of shit did when I couldn't take Danny with me, but Danny is linked to the pit now. He luckily doesn't have pit rage like Jason, but he can calm Jason's pit and apparently glows according to Duke." Tim sobs. "I should have killed the man when I had a chance. I don't know what he did to Danny!"

"It's not your fault, Tim." Kon hugs Tim tightly, it's almost painful. "You were in a tough spot and doing your best to keep you both alive."

"Just focus on healing and moving on." Bart says while running a hand through Tim's hair. Cassie rubs both Tim and Kon's backs as Tim gets himself under control.

"Can.. can I meet him?" Kon whispers.

"I'd love for you to meet him." Tim sniffles. "He was nervous you'd hate him for existing. I apparently passed on my stupid anxiety. I couldn't quite get him to believe me when I told him he wouldn't be who you'd be mad at if you got mad. He wants to meet you, but I accidentally made the most jaded baby in the world."

"A Super raised by a Bat is going to be terrifying." Bart giggles. "We'll have to make sure he doesn't become a supervillain."

"Meh. He's too cute. If he goes evil, all he has to do is pout and he'll instantly win." Tim jokes, wiggling out of the hug. "Want to see pictures?"

There's a very strong positive response. The next 3 hours finds Tim showing off pictures and explaining the stories behind them, his team melting at how cute his son is. Tim feels the lightest he's felt in a while. He does have to promise Bart and Cassie to bring Danny over once Kon and Danny meet one on one first.

What Tim doesn't know is Kon is absolutely obsessed with and slightly horny over this parental side of Tim. He's fully daydreaming of the 3 of them living together and being disgustingly domestic the whole time Tim is showing off Danny. Cassie can tell what Kon is thinking about and is amused.

Once Tim leaves, the Titans go to the training room and fuck up some bots because of the rage they feel on Tim and Danny's behalf. They all agree to be as petty as possible to any LoA members they come across and to murder Ra's the moment there's an opportunity to do so without the JL knowing. Tim isn't the only unhinged one on this team. That's why they work so well together.

[abbotsanatomy]

hello!! i love ur writing you’re feeding my abbot addiction <33 could you write a fic with a depressed reader, maybe she had a hard case that hit close to home that ended badly and is really lingering for her, and jack noticed because she’s been more withdrawn and distant for the past few days and he tries to get her to talk about it and she says shes fine then blah blah fast forward shes on yhe roof crying after working a double :) sorry im a fiend for hurt comfort

⨳ PROTECTING THE HIVE

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: (20-ish year) age gap, resident/attending relationship, workplace romance, depictions of depression, mentions of suicidal ideation, kinda medical malpractice (lol), panic attack, allusions to child abuse. author's note: i had no idea what to name this, so here's my attempt at being funny... (also keep the compliments coming, they're feeding my ego <33 mwah)

You used to love your bed. It used to be a huge source of comfort. And sleep. Sleep is a special commodity when you work night shifts at a trauma center.

Now, you hate it. Because whenever you aren't working, you're just lying there. Not even asleep, just staring at the ceiling. Half of the time, you want to get up and be with your hot, older boyfriend.

The other half of the time, your mind is just pulling out the most horrendous memories possible, making you relive them, and wish you were dead. There's a bottle of pills on your nightstand you know would do the trick. You won't let yourself.

People rely on you. Jack relies on you. You save lives every day; you just wish you didn't have to lose so many along the way.

The only place you can escape your own thoughts is the ER. So, you throw yourself into your work. You work twice as hard, for twice as long.

Of course, Jack notices. He can see the most imperceptible changes in your demeanor, so this major shift doesn't exactly fly under his radar.

Be that as it may, you won't tell him any of it. He's a natural worrier. He hovers and he worries. That's just who he is. You're doing him a huge favor, really.

Besides, out of all the things your coping mechanism could be, it's saving lives. Who wouldn't support that?

So, you work yourself to the bone guilt-free. You take on double shifts with a few extra hours sprinkled on top. It's more than tiring, but it also means that when you get home and you're in bed, you pass out. You don't lay there for hours thinking about the kid who died in your ER two weeks ago.

You're careful about it, too. You change your scrubs and chug a cup of that terrible break room coffee before Jack comes in for the night shift.

Tonight's another one of those long, grueling, self-inflicted shifts. You've got a Red Bull in one hand, and a patient's bloodwork in the other. You've assessed labs like this one a million times, but the numbers aren't making any sense right now. Parker passes by you with a quick tap on your shoulder to bring your attention to her.

“Hey, you want me to count you in for the rock climbing thing this Sunday?” she asks, opening up one of the ER computers, “It was fun last time, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say slowly.

You're not too sure you can come up with a viable excuse right now, so you'll just have to cancel later. It was really fun, it just sounds like too much effort right now.

She walks away with a nod, when one of the nurses calls for her. When you start feeling surrounded in the middle of the ER hallway, you make your way to the break room. It feels even more stuffy, somehow.

You grip the papers in your hands tighter. The throbbing in your head that hasn't really left for the past two weeks has become unbearable now.

Noises are too loud. Everyone's too close. You need to get out, now.

Everything in your hand gets abandoned on the break room counter. You make your way as swiftly as possible past the patient’s rooms. A hand gently grips your arm, before you can pull the emergency exit open.

“Are you alright?”

Jack's low cadence coupled with his steady touch on your arm make you want to burst out into tears right then and there.

“I'm fine. I just—” your voice cracks.

“I need a minute,” you tell him, willing your voice to be as firm as you can manage. You can't even pull your gaze up from the floor. It isn't clear if he's buying it or not.

He lets go of your arm, and you can finally run up the hospital's stairs to the rooftop. You're completely out of breath, and still wildly overstimulated by the time you get there.

You pull the roof's metal door open. The moment the cold December air hits your face, it calms your panic down. But it brings with it a wave of sadness that can't be quelled or distracted away. You let yourself feel it.

You're out of control, now. Hands shaking, limbs completely wracked by these huge, full-body sobs. You steady yourself with your arms on one of the roof's AC units, when the memories start flooding your mind.

The kid you killed, he'd come in a week before. He had bruises all over, cuts where he wasn't supposed to. You passed the information onto someone on the day shift, so they can tell the department social worker. The next day you came back, he was gone.

A week later, he was dying in your arms. His blood literally staining your hands is a memory you'll never be able to erase. You spiral, his first and last visit to the ER flashing in your mind with equal consequence.

The footsteps growing closer barely register to your ears over your wailing. The moment Jack pulls you close, a hand on your jaw to bring your eyes to his, you instinctively pull away. He's insistent, though. He was trying to give you space, but look where that's gotten you.

“Hey, hey,” he says firmly, to grab your attention.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. He quickly realizes he can't get you to understand anything he says, not right now. So he does the next best thing.

He holds you. Really tight. So tight you can only smell his cologne and that sterile hospital scent that lingers on him for hours after a shift. It reminds you of home. You see him almost every day, but you miss him. He somehow always knows exactly what you need.

It takes a good ten minutes for you to stop crying in his arms. He's happy to be there, just glad you're slowly calming down. When your breathing evens out, and your eyes have dried out, you look up at him.

Where you think there should be disappointment, maybe even hatred, there's only admiration. If you’d actually picked up a scalpel and killed someone, he wouldn't even flinch, you think.

His gaze alone is making this a lot easier, “Better?”

You nod. Your eyes feel heavy, like you might just sleep here in his arms.

“It's the oxytocin,” he jokes.

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle.

His scrub top looks incredibly comfortable. For the first time in weeks, you wish you were just in bed. You could lay on his chest and have the best sleep you've had in too many nights to count. The best you can get right now is resting your forehead on the black fabric. That's exactly what you do.

Jack lets a few seconds go back before speaking up.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I...” you take a deep breath.

I killed him. The words die on your tongue. You can't say them.

Jack must notice this is causing you distress, so he runs his fingers through your hair. He kisses the top of your head to calm you down.

“We don't have to, right now,” he whispers, “Not ever, even. But you do need to talk about it to someone.”

You nod in agreement, against his shirt. Your coping mechanisms are so not working.

“When was the last time you ate?”

You blank, “I don't...I don't know.”

“Sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Alright. You're done.”

He pulls your head up with a hand on each cheek, “Clock out. Go home. Have some food, and I'll be there in a few hours.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You both walk to the emergency exit. In the stairwell, you turn to him, your eyes still glistening.

“Hey, um. I'm not fine, Jack,” you admit.

“I know that,” he tells you. “But you will be. I'll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

[yourstrulyrani]

Omgg imagine a reader who is obsessed with simons arms. Like veins and biceps and everything. I feel like he would try to be humble but loves teasing her with flexing them

husband!simon x wife!reader ~ you love simon's biceps, and simon loves the way you love them. a/n: as someone who has an unhealthy obsession with biceps this is so me HAHA (also to 🌊, i saw ur request too and am working on it!! ♥︎)

You are obsessed with Simon's body.

Being in the army, you know your husband's body is built for it. You were astonished at how much muscle he gained over the time you've been with him. Currently, he stands at 6'4 and weighs in at a mean 250 pounds. He trains well and you make sure you feed him even better whenever he gets off deployment because you know he has a habit of missing meals when he's away for work. His legs are strong, every muscle prominent and his thighs are thick. His torso is so wide it covers you up whenever he's lying on top of you or hugging you. You make sure to compliment his body whenever you can. You love complimenting your man just as much as he loves to act humble about his build.

Sometimes it's like...

"Simon, you're so huge. I love it." You say as you massage your husband's sore shoulders, straddling the back of his legs while he lies on his stomach on the couch. "It's nothing, lovie. Just comes with the job." He dismisses your praise, but hides his blush by looking away from you and hiding his face into the crease of his inner elbow.

Or sometimes it's...

"Baby, did you get more buff over deployment?" Your hands move up and down his torso, and you can most definitely feel the change in the definition of his abs because you can feel them through his shirt. "I guess so, doll?" He gives you a shy smile, "It's nothing, though, really. Probably some extra muscle because of the missions." He takes the hands that were roaming around his torso and places them up to his lips, kissing your wrists. "I missed you, sweet girl."

Albeit, your most favorite part about your man is his arms.

Specifically his biceps. You catch yourself staring at the way his veins start from his hands and end up at his biceps. When he's away for deployment, you manage doing the heavy lifting like moving the coffee table while cleaning or carrying multiple grocery bags in each hand. But when Simon is off deployment, you make sure to put those arms to use every single time you can. Simon doesn't mind either. If anything, he loves it and wants to be of help for you. He vacuums with one hand and lifts the coffee table with the other, he takes in all the grocery bags in one trip, and chops the wood for the fireplace without you ever asking to do it.

Simon caught on very early in your relationship that you had some sort of obsession with his arms, and he makes sure to act upon it. He may act all humble, but he loves the way you vocalize your love for his body and the way you look at him too. He loves to use his arms whenever he can, always looking for an opportunity to show himself off to his sweetheart of a wife.

One day, you ordered two bags of soil for your garden. Before you could carry them inside, Simon stopped you at the doorway, "I got you, lovie." He rolled up the sleeves to his already short-sleeved shirt, pushing them up to his shoulders. He took one bag in each of his arms. All you could do in the moment was stare at the way his arms flexed dangerously. Even with one of his arms tattooed fully, you could still see the curve of his bicep and the veins that adorned it. You were caught out of your daze when you heard him ask sweetly, "Do you want these in the backyard?" You nodded with your mouth open, still focusing on the bulge of his arms. Before heading over to the backyard, he passes you a cheeky wink. He knows as much as you do how good his biceps look, and he loves you for it. "You know, if you take a picture it'll last longer."

He walks over to you, bags still in his hold, and places a kiss to your lips before heading over to the backyard.

Tease.

The next day, when you ask him to grab your phone, he checks out your change of wallpaper: Asleep on the couch shirtless is Simon lying on his back, tattooed bicep and gorgeous torso visible in the frame with your cat on his lap.*

*i specifically thought of this gorgeous drawing by @bitterrfruit for reference. if you're seeing this arabella, i love your writing and art you are so, in the best way possible, disgustingly talented.

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[helenophanes]

My stepdad knows my mom loves plants and he built her an entire garden, redid the patio and made everything beautiful so she could plant more fruits and flowers.

He knows we have chronic pain and can mainly do low inpact exercises so he got us a pool so we could exercise without hurting ourselves.

My mom told my stepdad I wanted a new shelf for my crystals and he spent two weeks in the shed making it for me as my christmas gift.

He also made a note of my favorite noodles and makes sure to always buy them at the store.

I got him a hat to commemorate his one year of living with us and he wears it every day. Its been months.

Every time I cook, even if I think it isn't my best he tells me thank you and it was delicious. He also helps my mom with all her cooking because he wants to spend time with her. I'm the best cook in the house and his spaghetti is still my favorite even though he doesnt cook very many things. Just because he puts care into making that one dish thats moms favorite.

He babies our dogs more than we do and we spoil them rotten.

____

I have an older male coworker who kinda took on the role of mentor. We are both writers but he saw I didnt have a laptop and I was just firing stories away on my phone with aching thumbs at the speed of light. He gave me one of his tablets, with a storage chip and a replacement keyboard so I could write comfortably. He always makes sure to share his snacks with me and is mindful of my diabetes.

____

I have had a friend since 7th grade whose creative career inspired me to pursue my own creative goals. When we shared some poems in DMs we spent two weeks just speaking to each other in poetry.

____

Another bestie since college- we protect each other no matter what. He calls me to talk just because its the best time we have. We share cultural language and history facts with each other and he'll literally talk until hes snoring because he just doesnt want to end the call. This is one of few firends and by extension male friends I can safely be my full and complete self without judgement.

_____

My grandfather, a devout catholic, when I came out told me he was heartbroken. Not because I was queer but because me (his baby) thought he wouldnt love me the same anymore. That I had nothing to worry about ever. This man was in his 70s taking my 40 something year old father two hours away to medical appointments. The man who, after my grandma beat cancer but couldnt be near a hot stove, took over all the cooking in the house. I still try to replicate his habichuelas but they never taste the same.

_____

There's more and as much as I critique men these are some examples of people who I really adore and I love how they love.

You know that Ada Limón poem where she’s like “i can’t help it i love the way men love”? my dad recently confessed to me that he became a shoemaker because they buried my grandma shoeless

oh…………………………………

[norristrii]

HELP APPRECIATED.

Your brother Lando has a knack for teasing you, especially when it comes to padel matches. But when his friend, Max, steps in to support you and help turn the tables, the dynamic shifts—giving you the perfect chance to prove Lando wrong.

pairing. Max Verstappen x Norris! fem! reader.

warnings. annoying older brother Lando (again, but we love).

For my newfound friend @haniette 🫶🏻 love you girlie!!

LANDO KNEW—oh, he absolutely knew—how much you loathed going with him to play padel. It wasn’t the sport itself; you actually enjoyed it when it was with your girls, the laughter and camaraderie making it fun. But with Lando? In front of his friends? That was an entirely different story. He thrived on teasing you, poking fun in ways only an older brother could. It was borderline humiliating, but somehow you always got roped into it.

And now, here you were. The padel court was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thwack of balls hitting the racket. Max and George were there too, their easy banter filling the air while Lando shot you an all-too-smug grin. The question lingered in your mind: Why did I agree to this? It wasn’t money—that was for sure. It wasn’t sibling love either; let’s be real, Lando’s idea of sibling love involved making you his personal entertainment.

No, you were here for one simple reason—you wanted him to shut up. You wanted him to stop his nagging, his comments, his relentless pestering about coming to play “just once.” And if enduring an hour of him flaunting his supposed skills in front of his friends was the price to pay for peace, well… so be it.

Teamed up with George, you quickly realized he had drawn the short straw. Lando was relentless, targeting you with every shot as if the game were a personal vendetta. The ball zipped toward you time and again, leaving you scrambling to keep up. It wasn’t just padel at this point—it was a one-sided showdown, and Lando was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Come on, Y/n!” Lando teased after yet another missed return, his grin so smug it was almost criminal. George shot you a sympathetic look, muttering something about how impossible it was to defend against Lando when he was this focused on being a menace.

The score kept climbing, and not in your favor. You were losing—rapidly and spectacularly. But through all the chaos, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. It was frustrating, yes, but it was also so Lando. His ability to turn even a friendly padel game into his personal theater of mischief was almost admirable.

“Is this payback for something?” you called out, trying to match his banter despite the sweat forming on your brow.

“Maybe,” Lando replied with a smirk, effortlessly returning another shot. “Or maybe I just like seeing you try.”

Poor George, indeed. He deserved a medal for putting up with this, and you were going to owe him a drink after this for sure.

Max waved his racket dramatically, his exasperation clear as he took in the situation. “What about changing teams?” he suggested, his tone laced with playful disbelief. It was obvious he’d noticed your struggle, and maybe—just maybe—he was trying to save you.

You sighed, tossing a glance at George, who was already chuckling. “Yeah, George deserves to win at least once,” you replied, the humor in your voice lightening the moment.

But then Max chimed in again, his suggestion catching you off guard. “I’ll be with Y/n,” he said confidently, and you froze. The words echoed in your head, and you felt your cheeks heat up almost instantly. Because, truth be told, you’d always had a little thing for Max—a crush that had lingered quietly for longer than you cared to admit.

And, of course, Lando noticed. He always noticed. He had that infuriating ability to see right through you, to catch on to even the smallest hints of vulnerability or emotion you tried to keep hidden. You didn’t even have to look to know he’d clocked your reaction, storing it away as ammunition for later. This was just another golden reason for him to tease you mercilessly once you got home.

Max stood beside you, his presence impossibly magnetic as he shot you one of those grins—charming, effortless, the kind that made your knees weak. You could feel your heart race, the flutter of nerves threatening to pull your focus entirely away from the game. Across the court, Lando watched with an expression that screamed l know exactly what’s going on here. His knowing look was equal parts teasing and mischievous, and you knew you’d never hear the end of it later.

Max began explaining tactics, his voice confident yet patient as he gestured with his racket, pointing out positions and strategies. His energy was focused, but yours… yours was entirely elsewhere. You were too busy taking him in—the way his eyes lit up as he spoke, the way his enthusiasm made him so impossibly endearing. You nodded along, pretending to absorb his words, but in truth, they barely registered. You were a little too captivated, lost in the sheer of him.

The game ahead didn’t matter. In that moment, it was just you, Max, and the chaotic, undeniable realization that maybe your crush wasn’t as inconspicuous as you’d hoped. And judging by Lando’s smirk across the court, he wasn’t missing a single second of the drama unfolding. Oh, he was going to milk this for all it was worth.

Suddenly, your game took a dramatic turn for the better. The shots you missed before were now connecting effortlessly, and your energy seemed to shift entirely. You couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason—was it the fact that Max was next to you, his presence calming and motivating all at once? Was it the way he encouraged you with subtle tips and grins that felt like small victories? Or maybe it was pure determination, driven by the desire to show off, to prove that you weren’t just here to flounder under Lando’s relentless teasing.

Or, let’s be honest—it could have just been the burning need to get through the game and finally go home.

Whatever it was, you felt the momentum change as each shot landed, Max offering the occasional “Nice one!” or “That’s the way!” with a grin that sent your heart fluttering. Even Lando seemed taken aback for a moment, his teasing replaced with a slightly furrowed brow as he realized you weren’t giving him the easy victory he’d hoped for.

“Wow, Y/n, what’s gotten into you?” Lando asked, his voice laced with breathless disbelief as he wiped the sweat from his brow, clearly struggling to keep up with your sudden surge of skill.

You barely spared him a glance, shrugging with an air of nonchalance. “Luck,” you replied, pausing briefly before adding, “or help,” and shot a quick smile at Max, who chuckled beside you. The subtle compliment didn’t go unnoticed, and judging by Lando’s narrowed eyes, it fueled his competitive streak even further.

Gripping your racket, you adjusted your stance, ready for the next hit. The game wasn’t over yet, but you were more than prepared to show Lando—and maybe Max too—that you weren’t backing down anytime soon.

The final hit landed perfectly, sealing the win for you and Max. The cheers erupted, and before you could fully process what had just happened, Max was rushing toward you, his face lit up with excitement.

“Yes, Y/n!” he shouted, his voice filled with unrestrained joy. Before you knew it, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug. The next thing you felt was your feet leaving the ground as he lifted you slightly, his laughter mixing with yours. “You did it,” he said, his grin so wide and genuine that it made your heart skip a beat.

From the sidelines, Lando rolled his eyes dramatically, but the small, amused smirk playing on his lips betrayed him. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he called out, but the teasing couldn’t dampen the electric moment between you and Max. Winning had never felt quite this good.

“I fear that’s it for today,” you said with a playful smile, slinging your racket over your shoulder. Lando groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes before striding off the court, muttering something under his breath about needing a rematch. Classic Lando.

But you and Max lingered, the energy between you softening as the adrenaline of the game faded. The two of you stood there, just looking at each other, smiles tugging at your lips. “Thank you for the help,” you said, your voice carrying a warmth that matched your grin.

As you turned to leave, Max moved closer, draping his arm around your shoulders with an easy confidence that sent your pulse racing. Flirting? Oh, there was no mistaking it—he was absolutely flirting. And you couldn’t help but let it happen, your stomach doing little flips as he leaned in slightly.

“What about us going to play padel alone some next time?” he asked, his voice low and inviting, a hint of mischief in his tone.

You blinked, caught off guard for only a moment before a smile broke across your face. Alone? Just the two of you? Suddenly, padel seemed a lot more appealing. This was going to be interesting.

“Yeah, but I still suck at this stupid sport—or whatever it even is,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head in mock defeat.

Max grinned, his confidence unwavering. “Don’t care,” he replied, his tone light but determined. “I’ll teach you.”

The way he said it, so effortlessly sure, made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he looked at you, like he genuinely believed you could conquer the court with him by your side. Maybe padel wasn’t so bad after all. Or maybe it was just Max making it feel that way.

“Stop flirting!” Lando’s voice rang out dramatically as he turned around, his tone halfway between annoyance and entertainment.

Max didn’t even flinch, rolling his eyes as if this was just another typical Lando moment. “He should shut up sometimes,” Max muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with exasperation.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the moment too absurd not to enjoy. “That would be really nice,” you replied, shooting Max a grin.

Even as Lando stomped away, likely plotting his next round of teasing, you felt that lightness in the air—the perfect blend of chaos, camaraderie, and just a hint of something more. With Max beside you, you could tell this was going to be far more interesting than any game of padel.

As you walked towards Lando’s tiny Fiat Jolly, parked with its quirky charm, you spotted him waiting with an expression that screamed "disappointed dad." Arms crossed, brows furrowed—it was as if he were channeling every ounce of parental annoyance into that one look. You couldn’t help but smirk; his dramatic flair never failed to amuse.

Max caught up with you just before you reached the car, pulling you into a warm hug that sent a flutter through your chest. His lips brushed softly against your cheek, a barely-there sensation that lingered far longer than it should have. You could feel the heat creeping up your face, and in the corner of your eye, you saw Lando rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of his head.

“See you later, Y/n,” Max said, his voice low and smooth, the kind of tone that made promises out of simple goodbyes.

You smiled, your voice carrying a hint of something more. “I’m really looking forward, Max.”

Sliding into your seat next to Lando, you barely had time to get settled before he shot you one of his trademark smirks, already loaded with teasing. The Fiat buzzed to life, its tiny engine rumbling as the city lights blurred into motion. You braced yourself, knowing full well that Lando’s commentary would start as soon as you hit the first corner. And yet, a small smile tugged at your lips—you wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything.

Lando’s voice cut through the hum of the car engine, his tone dry and pointed. “Did you enjoy flirting with my friend?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, not even sparing you a glance.

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Actually, yeah,” you replied casually, the humor in your voice unmistakable. “I’m sorry your love life is shit,” you added with a laugh, knowing full well the rumors swirling around him were as entertaining as they were ridiculous.

“Haha,” Lando mocked your laugh, his sarcasm sharp but not unexpected. You could tell he was gearing up for a comeback, but your attention shifted as your phone buzzed in your lap. Glancing down, you saw Max’s name light up the screen.

can hear him complaining even from here. i’m excited to see you again ;)

[havenhyunjin]

safe space — bangchan

the one where you would do anything to be a safe space for him. word count: 1k

warnings: discussions of grief and loss, although not extensively. merely trying to process complicated feelings. hurt/comfort. angst.

a/n: i’m not trying to speculate on any grieving process chan is going through, but as he’s been vocal about his struggle with the loss of a friend, i created this also hoping that he does actually have loved ones to rely on and he allows himself that grace <3. rest in love, moon.

————————————————————————

The soft vibration of the diffuser was getting to your nerves. So was the sizzling meat in the pan you were cooking on. Even the sound of an opening door proved to be unsettling. That’s when you realized the sounds weren’t bothering you; you were simply on edge for entirely different reasons.

You knew how to deal with your own grief and loss wasn’t a foreign concept. You could manage it, and you did.

Not knowing how to deal with Chris’ grief was unnerving. You had no idea how to help him, if he wanted or needed help at all, and it left you feeling powerless.

Chris closed the door behind him and greeted you softly, as you replied for him to know you were in the kitchen. He walked closer to you, and gave you a soft peck on the lips to greet you with an almost imperceptible smile.

“How are you?” you asked, although you were fully aware it was a stupid question.

He shrugged and laughed without a hint of happiness. All you could come up with was a hug that you hoped would express everything you didn’t know how to say or show.

I love you. I’m here. I’m sorry. I got you, if you need me. I hate seeing you in pain. But your pain is not a burden. And you don’t have to talk about it. I love you. I got you.

As Chris melted into your embrace, you knew he understood, like he knew you understood him. Even in the unspoken nature of the entire process, you both could count on each other unconditionally and while it didn’t get any easier, Chris was certain that your patience and your love were a lifeline he would never let go off.

He kissed you in as a thank you - gently, no rush, hoping it would convey a part of the convoluted emotional state he was in.

I love you. Thank you. I don’t ever want to burden you. One day I might be able to talk about it. I’m grateful for you. I love you. Please stay.

With the way you kissed him back, enveloping him around your arms, he was entirely sure you would stay, and it meant everything.

The only reason you pulled away was realizing your food was going to burn otherwise. He laughed a little bit at you rushing to turn off the flame, and grabbed plates for both of you to have dinner. You sat down together to eat on the couch in front of the TV, playing a documentary that neither of you were really paying attention, but the point was being close to each other as you finished your meal in silence.

Chris was used to retreating and isolating himself whenever he was having a hard time; there was no reason to bother anyone else with his problems and sadness. One of the many ways you turned his life around was opening him up to the opportunity of relying and leaning on someone else.

He was still uncomfortable not showing up all the time as the strong, invincible leader he was supposed to be, but he decidedly knew now that is not what you expect from him. You just loved him, in every version.

You were still having a hard time accepting that you couldn’t fix everything for him either. There are some things that are inevitably debilitating for him, and as much of a rock as you tried to be for him, you couldn’t make this one go away. Chris, of course, doesn’t expect you to fix anything.

Regardless, in the comfort of your steady hand holding his, and in the comfort of his sad but loving eyes looking into yours, you both felt that everything would be okay.

With a display of vulnerability that was rare but welcomed, Chris moved to lay down in your lap. He curled up next to you, laying his head down and closing his eyes.

Chris didn’t know how to deal with his grief either, and he wasn’t sure anyone really knew how to do it. The fluctuation, unpredictability and non-linear nature of his process was excruciating. He wanted control over himself back desperately, but it didn’t work like that.

As you decided to lay down behind him instead, embracing him against you as your head rested on his back, he was reminded that not being in control all the time was natural. He closed his eyes, trusting you to hold him through it all, and for one night handing over the tight, heavy leash he has been trying to keep on himself.

Even though you didn’t see it, you knew he was tearing up and all you could do was hold him tighter.

I got you. You can let go with me. I’ll stay with you forever.

Even though he was crying, he was relaxing into you at the same time.

You’ve got me. I love you. Thank you. I love you.

The sadness, pain, loss and grief would not go away, but he had one less thing to worry about; hiding it. You know that you can’t make it go away, even though you wished you could, but what you could do was stay right here with him in his terms and that was good enough.

“Chris?” you called out to him softly. He hummed to reply, sniffing his nose while still letting his long held back tears out.

“I’m right here,” you said, although it was a universally acknowledged truth. Vocalizing it felt like hugging his soul, desperately letting him know verbally, physically, emotionally, that here you stay.

He nodded. He knew. He felt it.

“I know, baby,” Chris said, turning around to face you while you both laid down and held each other close. His troubles felt soothed, and damn near healed as you began pressing soft kisses against his face. He was smiling, each little peck reminding him that although life can be mind-numbingly painful, it can also be all-consumingly wonderful.

You are the living proof of every good thing the world has to offer, and he’s grateful. He was so eternally grateful for his safe space in you.

[moralityandmusings]

DP x DC: Faster than Life, Part 2

Part 1

"Guys? I think we've got a situation?"

Barry wasn't sure what to make of the kid in front of him. He couldn't be older than 15 and he was glowing(?), which Barry knows, for sure, is not typical. The kid is also bleeding what appears to be green blood and he is definitely injured.

It was Cisco who replied first.

"What's going on Barry? I'm getting weird readings from the park you're at. They almost look like-" "Like the speed force readings? Yeah, definitely at least part of what's going on somehow. I've got a kid, possible metahuman, he's definitely injured and he just got dumped here by a Time Wraith." Barry started inching closer to the kid.

The kid didn't acknowledge his approach. Barry did a once over as he got nearer and noticed that the kid was still having trouble breathing. His arms were wrapped around his chest and torso in a protective stance, but Barry couldn't deny the kid looked like he'd probably collapse at any moment.

"Did you say a kid?" Ah, there was Caitlin finally. "Yep. Teenager, 15 at most. He's hurt, needs medical. I'm approaching now." "Barry if he's an unknown and a meta maybe you should wait for one of us to get to you. If he's injured he could lash out." Caitlin warned with a sense of urgency. "He's a hurt kid, guys. I'm not going to sit and wait while he possibly bleeds out in front of me. Prep the med bay, I'm going to try and bring him in." Barry finally got within reaching distance of the kid, crouching down so he wasn't hovering over the trembling body. "Hey kid, you alright?" Barry quietly called out. The boy froze. "Hey, hey, hey, it's alright. My name is Barry. You look like you could use some help right about now. I've got a couple friends who are super smart and can help get you patched up. What do you say?"

Barry slowly reached a hand about halfway between the two of them. He angled himself so that his posture was still friendly and open, but he would have an easier time catching the kid if he did pass out. "I promise, I just want to help you." Barry smiled. "Let me help you, kid." There was a moment of silence between them. Barry was beginning to wonder if the kid had dissociated or lost consciousness but remained upright somehow.

He was about to speak again when the kids head suddenly shot up.

Barry's gaze was met by wide, terrified, luminescent green eyes on a face much too young for this kind of clear terror and trauma. The kid was panicking, and a panicked meta is a potentially dangerous one even with the best of intentions. "Hey, whoa kid. It's alright. I swear I just want to help-"

The kid's head snapped around, eyes seeming to take in his surroundings, and Barry watched as his panic seemed to grow and grow the more he saw around him.

"Kid? Please, you need medical attention. Let me get you help. Please?" The head of shocking white hair that seemed to almost defy gravity and those glowing green eyes raced back to Barry in an instant. Barry held his breath, hoping he'd finally broken through to the kid who was now sitting in a puddle of steadily growing green. And without warning, the kid vanished.

[pazzispizookies]

— — Guarded — —

Hey Guys! I hope you all enjoyed chapter 6! I wouldn’t freaking know because no one gives me feedback expect for my dedicated pookies. Also go check out @izzih22 new series if you haven’t! Along with @hereforuconnwbb new series!! but I would like to hear y’all’s feedback more, post a comment, send inbox or Dm with what u like/dislike abt the chapters so I know what yall want to see better! I’d appreciate it so very much pookies. Have fun reading… ;)

Pairing: Hopkins transfer Azzi x Hopkins Paige

The quiet vibration of the car engine filled the space.

Thoughts swirling in both girls heads about what had happened at the diner.

“So, are you gonna tell me where your driving? or am I just being kidnapped?” Azzi asked, glancing over at Paige.

Paige was resting on hand on the steering wheel, spread out lazily but still maneuvering the car with persision, “I figured you’d want something sweet, you have a disgusting sweet tooth Az,”

Azzi felt her heart tighten a little at Paige knowing what she wanted, then it struck her. How did she know? “How do you know I have a sweet tooth? are you really a stalker P, its getting kinda scary.” She teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Something had definitely changed. It was unspoken but still, their flirting had gone from having an underlying sense of rivalry, to now having a heat behind it. Azzi had realized the day she met Paige their relationship was going to be different. Like a cosmic pull was stringing them closer. And now, she thought that it might not have been a ‘cosmic pull’ but just pure attraction. Something that scared her in the best way.

Paige had the same idea, less intense, but she knew she wanted Azzi. She wanted her bad. But she was the reason their relationship started off rocky, but she didn’t regret it. If anything she was glad she could flirt with Azzi and blame it on her hating her. Even though that reason wasn’t the truth. She felt herself looking at Azzi, from in class, to stealing glances of her during practice, to when she was alone in bed at night and found herself on her Instagram page, admiring the small details of her from her modeling posts. It was all something she knew was apart of something larger, something was going to happen between them. She knew Azzi was different already.

Paige looked over at Azzi, the moonlight and streets casting a warm glow into her deep brown eyes, “I’m not a stalker, just observant.”

Just as Paige said that, she started to pull into a Ice cream store parking lot,

“Ice cream?” Azzi asked, trying to hide her pure child-like excitement.

Paige saw the way her eyes lit up, it tugging at her heart a little, “Yes, are you five years old by any chance?”

Azzi scoffed, clicking off her seatbelt and grabbing her phone, “is it a crime to like ice cream as a 16 year old? Last time I checked it wasn’t.”

Paige rolled her eyes, still trying to pretend she wasn’t falling for every little thing Azzi said. She had always been the type to fall quickly, more often then not getting hurt by it. But it was something about herself she couldn’t change. she feared that it would hurt her again, but there’s no stopping whats in motion.

Paige got out of the car, making sure to grab her wallet and phone.

Azzi did the same, already have started to walk towards the building.

Paige caught up with her, hands in pockets and decided to verbalize wat she had been thinking about. “So..we should probably talk about the whole ‘Ash’ thing.”

Paige opened the door for Azzi, letting her in first. To which Azzi returned a small smile, not one of her normal cocky ones toward Paige, but one from her heart.

They walked in and noticed it was pretty packed,

“Yeah we can talk…after ice cream. Also, maybe we should sit outside, it’s pretty busy in here, yknow get some quiet. If it doesn’t make you too nervous.”

Paige leaned her head back a little, narrowing her eyes on Azzi, “I wont be nervous, already have you wrapped around my finger.”

Azzi shook her head foundly, letting out an exhale, “You’ve got that all wrong Bueckers. Cmon, I want ice creammmm!”

Azzi grabbed Paiges forearm and pulled her towards the counter, speaking up to the worker immediately.

She didn’t need to look at the menu, already knowing what to order. “Hi, could I get a medium cup of Rocky road, with sprinkles and hot fudge?”

The worker nodded and looked at Paige,

Paige added in, “Uh yeah can I just get a small cup of vanilla? That’s all.”

Azzi glared at her, “Boring.”

Paige scoffed, “Not boring, just an aware athlete trying not to poison herself.”

The worker who was watching the teasing, amused, spoke up. “It’ll be 7.98, and can I just say you guys are such a cute couple. You can tap on the screen by the way.”

Azzis face felt a rush of heat at the awkward moment, but Paige not wanting to let the moment to be bad for all of them spoke, “Thanks,” While she tapped her phone to the screen to pay.

Azzi was a little taken a back by her answer, making a mental note to ask her about it later. But greatful that it shut down the conversation.

The worker smiled while she handed the ice cream cups to each of them along with spoons. “Have a good night you guys.”

Paige simply nodded at her, and Azzi replied, “You too.”

They started to walk towards the door, the silence between them deafening.

Paige open the door for Azzi once again, to which Azzi didn’t have the same reaction before, a little lost in her thoughts.

They walked in awkward silence to a bench at the back of the building, it was surrounded by green grass and overlooking a quiet park in the still of the night. Only illuminated by a street light and the moon, the warm night air sweeping through.

Azzi sat down on the same side as Paige, positioned foward looking out at the park.

But as it hit Azzi, her brain simply fried from everything, she blurted out, “ugh, why do you always smell like that.”

Paige startled out of her thoughts grew a little concerned at the sudden sentence. “Uh…like what?”

Azzi became aware of what it sounded like she was implying, quickly corrected herself. “No, not like that yknow. like every time we have class or after running miles at practice you still smell really good, it’s annoying.”

Paige felt herself heat up at the silly compliment, “You obsessed with me, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her ice cream while looking at the park across the field from them. Paige looked over at her profile, noting the soft curves in her nose and the way her eyelashes caught the moonlight.

“I’m not obsessed with you, just… observant as well.”

Paige shook her head, the awkwardness from emailer seemingly dissipating into the night air.

“So, Ash. Whats our plan for that?” Paige redirected.

Azzi crossed her legs and met Paiges eyes, which were strickingy blue still. “You mean my plan to get us out of the issue you created? Haven’t thought much about it yet.”

Paige sighed, taking a bite of her ice cream and thinking.

Azzi spoke first, also running it through her mind, “well, I mean, I guess I’ll text her tonight. Maybe like a few of her highlights, see if she leads.”

Paige nodded, “Yeah, she’ll lead. She always does.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat, but then she cleared her throat and met Paiges gaze again. “How come you didn’t correct the worker in here when she called us a couple.”

The truth was, Paige didn’t hate hearing someone mistake them for a couple. “I just didn’t want it to be awkward, correcting her would just make us all feel a little weird.”

Azzi hummed, taking in what she said, even though not believing it to an extent.

Then just in that moment of silence, her phone buzzed.

Paige grabbed Azzis phone hearing the buzz, like she had the right too.

“Hey!” Azzi protested at the blonde

Paige looked at her phone seeing a notification.

Instagram:

Ash: hey pretty, you invite your team yet? just trying to get a head count lol.

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige’s face, it contorting into one of confusion and some relief.

“What is it?” She asked,

Paige turned the phone around to reveal the message, which she quickly scanned.

“Maybe you were right. That’s pretty friendly.” Paige said, fully handing the phone to her. But something in her tone was off….almost upset.

“You good?” Azzi asked having noticed the underlying tone,

Paiges jaw clenched slightly, avoiding eye contact with her, “yeah I’m good. You should respond.”

Azzi took a second to study Paige, wonder what she was thinking before opening the phone.

She went to instagram, reading it through again. Then turned back to Paige, “sooo..what do I say?”

Paige wanted her to say nothing, she was almost blinded by the thought of Azzi flirting with her Ex because of her stupidity. But she had to push those feelings down, knowing that this was the only way to get Ash to not leak anything.

“Well..you flirt.” Paige responded. Also looking at the phone

Azzi let out a huff, “I know that big head, but I mean, like how?”

Paige looked up, “how? You don’t know how to flirt?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, but then looked away quickly. Because truthfully, she didn’t. Paige was the only one she had ever really flirted with, and that was only because it was a challenge….well at least at first.

“I don’t go around flirting with everyone, unlike you.” She replied,

Paige rolled her eyes, focusing back on her ice cream in hand, taking a slow bite, lingering the plastic spoon in her mouth. “I don’t flirt with everyone, Azzi.” She said, her voice nearing a dangerous level of honesty.

Those words kicked her back into focus, knowing they had a double meaning, and knowing the meaning behind it wasn’t one to explore tonight. “Well, looks like it to me. Yknow you do that thing.” Azzi said, gesturing towards Paige’s face.

Paige looked over amused, dropping her voice to a smooth teasing one. “What thing? Look pretty?”

Azzi scoffed at her, the only worse about Paige being pretty is that she knew it. “Not that.”

“So you admit I’m pretty?” Paige quickly replied, leaning in.

“I never said that”

“But you never denied it.”

Azzi took the challenge,

She leaned in even closer to Paige, inches away, and whispered, “yeah, you’re pretty. Happy?”

Paige felt heat pool at the words, mixed with the limited space between them, she’d do anything to close the gap.

“That. Right there,”

Azzi looked at her confused, “huh?”

Paige leaned back, creating some much needed space, ”that was flirting, even if it wasn’t as good as mine, you do know what to do, Princess.” She said as she took another bite of ice cream.

“Okay 1. Your not much better at flirting them me. 2. I have to do this over text, to a stranger.” Azzi answered, glancing back down at her open phone,

“Psh, we both know I can flirt better, that’s okay to admit. And yknow just like, use what you have to your advantage.”

“What I have? What do you mean?” Azzi said looking into her blue eyes,

Paige let her gaze drift off again, thinking about if she was gonna be honest. But with a breath, she decided it was easier to just suck it up and say it. “Post yourself. A good photo of yourself. She’ll reply to it. I’ll bet on that,”

Azzi looked at her, confused because she thinks Paige may have just given her a compliment, a complicated one nevertheless. “Okay, I will. Is my face just that alluring? She’ll come running at the sight of it.”

“Anyone with a brain would come running to you if they had the chance,” Paige said, leaning in.

Azzi breath caught for a split second, caught off guard by Paige’s words.

Paige caught the reaction. A grin spreading across her face. “See? I’m better at flirting.”

Azzi shoved her. Which drew a dramatic groan from Paige.

“Shut up, I’ll post something tonight. Even if I look like a desperate slut because of it.”

Paige nodded, still slightly smiling. “Lookin foward to it.”

A comfortable silence feel over them for a minute, neither one complaining about it, because there was just something nice about being in each others presence.

“You done?” Azzi asked, looking at Paige’s and her own empty cups.

“Yea,” she said standing up, offering out a hand for Azzi.

Her heart warmed at the small gesture, it just seemed to be something Paige did without thinking, showing that she wasn’t all that bad.

Azzi grabbed her hand, lingering on it for a second before pulling away.

Paige felt the touch stretch, but really she didn’t want it to end. It seemed like their hands fit perfectly together.

“You’re driving.”

Paige caught the keys Azzi just threw at her with a groan,

*****

They walked back to the car,

as both of them sat down in their chairs, Azzi speaks up. “Yknow, we don’t really have anything tomorrow until practice.”

“Yeah…and?” Paige asked.

Azzi hesitated for a second, “my parents and bothers aren’t home, maybe you wanna come over? If you don’t that’s totally fine too.”

Paige was a little shocked at the invitation, especially since she didn’t know if Azzi felt the same pull to be around her, “Yeah, sure -um yeah.” Paige replied, smile tugging at her mouth.

“Cool,” Azzi replied as nonchalant as she could (which wasn’t very much)

Paige started to drive in the direction of Azzis house, silently freaking out, because hanging out alone with her in an empty house was a little more than she could handle.

After 6 mintues of music filled silence between them, Paige pulled into her driveway.

Azzi got out of the car, waiting for Paige to follow,

They made their way up the stairs and she started fumbling with her key at the door before pausing for a moment and looking at Paige, “Oh - but the way. I have a kid.”

“A what?” Paige said shocked.

Azzi chuckled. “Yeah, she’s only a year old. But don’t be too loud, I think she’s asleep.”

“You have a kid? Since when?” Paige asked, racking her mind.

Azzi played into it more, “yeah, she’s the love of my life. We tried to keep it hidden from the public as much as we could.”

“uhh—Okay?” Paige replied, completely baffled at this new information.

Azzi pushed the door open, making her way inside as Paige followed suit.

“Wait right here, I’ll go get her.” Azzi said looking back, trying to hide her lying.

Paige threw her hands up, with a shrug. “Okay I guess?”

Azzi wandered off into the house, opening her bedroom door to find Stewie, her dog and baby. Asleep on her bed.

“Hey stew, I have someone to meet.” She said carefully picking up the tired dog.

stewie started wagging her tail at the sound of Azzi voice, gleefully letting herself be picked up.

Azzi tried to stay as quiet as she could while walking back to Paige, making her way to the living room.

Paige stood there on her phone, racking socials for information on Azzi apparent pregnancy.

She didn’t even hear Azzi creep up until she spoke, “Paige this is Stewie, my baby. and Stewie this is Paige.”

Stewie started barking in Azzis arms at the sight of the blonde.

“Really?”

“What?” Azzi said placing Stewie down, “She’s my baby.”

“You so annoying Az,” Paige said, putting her phone away, slightly relieved to see Azzi didn’t have a whole child.

She bent down to pet Stewie who was already at her legs, “Hey there Stewie, You have a stupid mom. Sorry about that.”

Azzi crossed her arms and scoffed, taking offense“She does not!”

Paige stood back up and chucked, “Sureeeee”

Azzi rolled her eyes and started walking towards her room, motioning for Paige to follow.

Once they entered her room Azzi plopped down on her bed, As for Paige, she stood awkwardly in the door way.

“Uhhh, what’re you doing?”

Paige shrugged, “standing.”

“Well stop it, it’s weird, sit down.” She said patting a spot next to her on the bed.

Paige pushed off the wall and sat down next to Azzi on her pink bed.

she looked around the room, it was everything Azzi times 100.

Light pink walls, books stacked with vines hanging off of it, Icecream stickers on her laptop with a neatly organized desk. Even to her pink queen sized bed, having being perfectly made and adorned with Unicorn pillows, only the soft glow from fairly lights illuminating the space.

“Wow, your rooms so ‘5 year old girl’ meets ‘clean freak’ “

Azzi scoffed and leaned back on her pillows, “Shut up, it’s probably better then yours.”

Paige looked down at her, slightly taken back by her beauty. Her curls sprawled out over the light pink pillow, she relaxed completely from being in a comfortable area. “It’s not. Mines much more ‘13 year old boy with a Lebron James obsession’ “

“I’d bet.” Azzi responded, looking into Paiges eyes, only now aware of the fact Paige was on her bed. In her house. Looking this good.

“Uh so anyways, you dated Ash, so you know what she likes right?”

Paige nodded, “to an extent”

“so I need you to help me with the post, the one to lure her in.”

Paige shook her head “I told you, I don’t know how to do girl things.”

Azzi sighed then threw a pillow at her, causing her to yelp.

“Well you better learn.”

“Abuse, Azzi. Abuse.” Paige said pretending to be hurt

Azzi stuck her tounge out at her, “Yeah, yeah. Now lay down, your being oddly uncomfortable, I don’t bite.” She said now getting up and moving for her closet.

Paige laid down, feeling a lot less uncomfortable by her words, sighing at the feeling of being relaxed after a long day. “Where’re you going?”

Azzi had disappeared into her closet for a moment, returning holding a few shirts. “Gettting options.”

“Options for what?” Paige asked, fully sprawled out on Azzi bed.

“For my shirt for the photos stupid, I can’t take them in this.”

“You could. You still look good to me.” Paige replied, sweeping her gaze over Azzi’s body

Azzi rolled her eyes even thought the compliment and attention felt nice. “Hush, Now help me pick.” She said thorwing three shirts at Paige.

Page picked the rudely thrown clothes up, the first one being a white cop top, nothing special. “No,”

The second one being a green top, half off the shoulder, “No.”

and the third being a tight black top, the v neck dangerously low with long sleeves. “this.” She said throwing the shirt back at Azzi.

“Really?” She asked, shocked by the choice.

Paige nodded, “Mhm, most slut like, she likes that.”

“Ew, but okay.” Azzi replied, moving towards the closet, shirt in hand.

She took a second to change, having to switch from a sports bra to a normal one, then came out of her closet to show Paige.

“Good?”

“Hot.” Paige replied simply, starring straight at Azzi cleavage.

“pervert.” Azzi said making her way to her desk.

She threw her speaker to the bed, “Play something, its too quiet I can hear you starring at me”

Paige grabbed the speaker, “Okay, no complaining though.”

Azzi nodded.

Paige unlocked her phone, knowing exactly what to play. She went to Bluetooth and connected the speaker, and stared playing “Crybaby” by Sza softly.

The sounds filled the air as Azzi applied some Mascara and highlighter, curling her eyelashes along with it.

after 5 mintues Paige groaned, “what are you doinggggg, I’m bored.”

Azzi didn’t even turn around, not entertaining Paige. “Go on your phone, stupid.”

Paige did just that, looking at her feed for about 2 seconds before turning a pillow into a weapon, launching it at Azzi.

Azzi scoffed and turned around, “what did you just do.”

Paige didn’t respond, instead grabbing another pillow and throwing it at her “Nothin”

Azzi practiacally launched herself out of her chair, immediately grabbing a pillow and smacking Paige.

Paige did the same, grabbing a pillow and smacking her dead in the chest to which Azzi fought back hard, grabbing another and smacking her face,

“Oh your dead” Paige said sitting up and grabbing Azzis waist to pull her foward,

Azzi felt the touch on her, but then felt another blow straight to her face, she stumbled onto her bed, reaching over to hit Paige.

But the way she ended up on Paige, was a little….different than she’d hoped, realizing after a few more hits she was fully straddling Paige.

Paige also stopped fighting feeling the weight of Azzi on top of her.

a silence feel over the room.

Both of them just looking at each other.

Azzi looked more gorgeous then Paige had ever seen, the soft lighting, the flattering color from her shirt, her hair slightly tussled and sprawled out on her shoulders, but her eyes were the best thing. Because they were staring intensely at her.

“Um. Well this is awkward.” Azzi said, stating to get up from her spot.

Paige found herself moving instinctively, wanting Azzi to stay exactly where she was.

Her hand found her waist, firmly holding her down. “Don’t move.”

“What?” Azzi asked, even though she needed to move because an unwelcomed throbbing began in her.

“Don’t move.” Paige repeated now leaning over to grab her phone.

“What’re you doing Paige?” Azzi asked, completely not okay with the amount of turned on she was right now.

Paige felt the same, even if she didn’t know Azzi was relating. But as she turned back to her, phone in hand and one still firmly on her waist. She spoke “This is perfect for the photo, just saying.”

Azzi glanced at her, the realized she was probably right. The light was hitting her softly and she was in a pretty questionable position, one that Ash would surely comment on.

“Uh okay.” She responded.

Paige kept a hand on her waist, pretending like it was the most natural thing in the world, which to some extent, it felt like it was.

She unlocked her phone and got on the camera app, pointing the phone up at Azzi.

On the screen she looked even better, the angle was working for her and her brown eyes seemed to glow brighter than the moon. She looked stunning. Unreal.

“What do I do? Just smile?” Azzi asked, feeling a little awkward.

“You’re literally a model bro, how do you not know how to pose.” Paige replied.

“Because most of the time i’m not straddling someone’s lap.” Azzi said, reminding Paige of the position.

Paige thought for a moment about what she could do, then she dug her fingers deeper into Azzis hips. Earning a slew of laughter to come from her.

“Paige! Stop!!” Azzi said completely losing it while being tickled.

Paige smiled up at her, taking a bunch of pictures of Azzi laughing on top of her, “I’ll stop in a second, pretty girl”

Azzi looked down at her, the nickname sending a shock through her,

Paige glanced up, the name just slipping from her mouth before she could stop it.

“What did you call me?” Azzi asked, her focus now only on Paige.

Paige couldn’t respond, her finger still holding down on the phone taking pictures. What had she just done. It’s like her brain forgot that she wasn’t supposed to feel anything towards Azzi. Sweet, beautiful Azzi. Who was staring down waiting for a response.

“Sorry….Got caught up,” Paige mumbled out. Avoiding eye contact at all costs with her face burning.

Azzi looked down at the blonde, normally the face of confidence. Who was now flustered under her, clearly embarrassed. But the thing was, Azzi would die to hear her say it again, her heart was nearing bursting.

She grabbed Paiges jaw gently, guiding it to look at her, watching the way her breath hitched at the contact.

“I don’t mind. It’s okay,” Azzi said smoothly, reassuring. Because that was the truth. She didn’t mind.

Paiges face only got more red, quickly realizing she wasn’t gonna be able to control her feelings much longer she redirected the heated moment. “Uh—I think I got the photos,”

“Oh yeah, right.” Azzi said getting off her lap, noticing the shift in the air going back to where it was before.

As she laid down next to Paige it got more apparent that she had some….issues happening. Being clearly turned on from her earlier position.

Ignoring this she gabbed the phone, “lets see,”

She opened up the photos app, seeing nearly 100 photos of her. “Paige! Did you just hold down on the button? Now we have to go through all 14 billion of them.”

Paige shrugged, feeling way too comfortable next to Azzi in bed. “I just held it, thought that’s what I supposed to do! I’m no photographer.”

Azzi shoved her shoulder, touch lingering for a second to long and clicked on the first photo.

She looked unreal. The warm glow of the soft yellow-white fairy lights reflecting in her eyes, the dark room, the black shirt a contrast on her paler skin from the fall months, her hair looser from being tussled. Even to her face, the smile whole and bright, all real, thanks to Paige. And the best thing about the photo is that you can see the pale hand on her waist, clear as day. Along with the outline of her sitting on a lap, not to much, but just enough.

“Wow” Paige said, a little breathless at the captured photo.

“Is that one good?” Azzi asked, already knowing the answer.

Paige nodded her head, still a little speechless, “yeah, um- yea.”

Azzi took the phone from the middle of them and opened up instagram.

She selected the photo and put a soft filter over it, it only improving the photo.

She captioned it simply, “Guess who?” And hit post.

She threw her phone down. Turning over and looking at Paige, “now we wait.”

*****

[letsseewherethisis-going]

Going Public - Lewis Hamilton

Summary : after date night, Lewis is trying to convince Y/N to go public and to stop keeping their relationship a secret

“It could be simpler, you know,” Lewis put his seatbelt on and started the car. “What do you mean, babe?” Frowning, you put your purse on your lap and looked at him as he immediately lowered the volume of the radio. You and Lewis had just spent the evening at a restaurant and as usual when you two went together in public, you had to be quick whenever you went outside and everything was pretty rushed and stressful for the both of you.

“We’ve been together for months now.. I think that maybe now would be the time to stop being so secretive about our relationship. What do you think?” He looked at you quickly before focusing his eyes back on the road. It was pretty late in the evening, the inside of the car was dark and the only kind of light you got were from the street lights. Lewis was wearing all black, the street lights reflecting in his golden jewelry - earrings, rings and bracelets. He knew how much you loved golden jewelry on him

You two had been together for at least 8 months at that point and your relationship was strong. Despite the fact that you were both living two opposite lives when you first met, you two had a connection that always felt natural and easy. The thing was that you also loved the life that you had built for yourself before you even met him. Despite the love that you had for him, you knew you had worked hard to make your own money and to have your own place and your independence, and you didn’t feel ready yet to let go of everything that you had built for yourself. That side of your personality was one of the reasons why Lewis fell so hard for you when he really didn’t expect it to happen... but then, a few months later, even though he had never explicitly told you about it up until that point, he was starting to feel like it was time to make some adjustments so that your relationship could be more enjoyable for you both.

“I’m just saying, babe - it could be simpler,” he insisted when he stopped at a red light. “Do you mean.. it could be simpler if our relationship was public?” “Yes, that’s what I mean,” he checked the rear view mirror, looking more tense than he usually did, as usual when he was the one driving. You drove on the way to the restaurant and he insisted on driving the way back even though you offered to drive again. He always felt competitive on the road and drove recklessly in your opinion, which always made you nervous even though you knew he never would’ve deliberately put you in danger. “I mean, why not? I never really thought about it in depth, hun,” he wheezed, shaking his head, surprised by your answer, and started driving again, “you’ve ‘never really thought about it?’” “I didn’t mean it like that, Lew. And I thought you were okay with us not being public,” “I was -I mean, I’m okay with it I guess-“ you thought he was going to continue but he didn’t, and he turned his gaze to the road again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s just that I don’t mind staying in the shadows at all, I don’t need attention from the media or the fans. I’m good if all the attention is just on you; you and your career are the priority anyway,”. You were aware that saying that while talking about any other relationship would be a huge red flag, but your relationship with Lewis was completely different. You knew his priority was his career and you respected that, and treated it as your priority as well. He stayed focused on it too, though a lot of things changed his perspective on things when he fell in love with you - and he made sure you knew you were also one of his priorities. There were a few seconds of silence until the light turned green and he started driving again. “I know that; I know you don’t want attention from the public and the media. You know, I know that maybe I’m being selfish.. but it would be easier for me, that’s all,” he cleared his throat and continued, “Think about it; you fly multiple times a month to see me anyway. When I’m not working, I’m with you when you’re here or I’m just constantly on my phone, talking to you whenever possible,” you were quite surprised by what he was saying, as he never expressed any real desire for going public before. Plus, it was rare for him to talk in length about his feelings, even with you. “When I see the other guys with their girlfriends and wives, I just wish you were there too sometimes. I could do the same and have you there with me too, and not be in love in secret like we’re hiding something bad or something. I truly don’t give a shit about what people might think, in case you’re wondering. I haven’t been linked to any other women since I’ve met you, and things have changed a lot in my life these past few months anyway.. I don’t see why me being in a relationship publicly would be a problem,” he stopped at another red light and looked at you again, waiting for you to react. “Honey, I had no idea you were feeling that way,” you said sincerely. “Well I do, I’d love to have you with me just on race days for example. That would change a lot of things for me - positively. And date nights like this one could be so much nicer. Not having to be in a rush and hide, and having to find a place where we won’t be seen. It could happen more often too. I’d feel much more comfortable in general, you know,” his hand went on your thigh and you laced your fingers with his instinctively. You were wearing a dress that night, and the feeling of his warm, soft hand on your thigh made you shiver. You had a thing for his hands and his soft touch - that, he knew as well. “I hear you. You’re right, we’ve been together for a while now, and maybe it’s time to take things to the next level,”

To you he was just Lew, not Lewis Hamilton, the Legend everyone knew him to be. He was the man who left tender kisses on your bare back the mornings when you were still sleeping and he had to go workout, the man that cuddled with you for hours while watching movies, the man that made you cry from laughter sometimes multiple times a day, the man with whom you had pillow fights in the middle of the night sometimes. He was always so tender, protective and loving to you; he showed you a completely different side of him and you cherished that. He planned romantic dates, surprised you, took care of you in every way a woman would love to be taken care of. He was also the person that taught you how to surf - and that became one of your favorite activities to do together. You loved how close he was with his parents, and you got on really well with them. You felt so lucky every day for the life that you had in that moment of your life, and you truly cherished your relationship with Lewis. The only downside to your relationship with him was the fame and all the pressure that came with it, especially for him. Other than that, he was the perfect boyfriend - despite his reputation with women and the bachelor lifestyle he had before meeting you.

He leaned in for a kiss, and you gently put your hand on his jawline to kiss him. Him being that close, you could smell his cologne (which has become such a comforting smell to you) more strongly. You felt his soft skin under your fingers, as well as his beard. He broke the kiss and quickly said “will you please come with me to the next race?”, and then pecked your lips again quickly. “Please?” he pulled away and you couldn’t help but melt inside. You thought he was just too cute for words sometimes. “The next race - already?” He focused back on the road and started driving again “why not?” “I wasn’t even supposed to join you that weekend, Lew,” “… But I’d like you to,” you didn’t say anything, thinking about it. You loved spending time with him, but sometimes balancing your normal life, including your average full time job, and Lewis’ lifestyle was difficult for you. You told yourself you’d bring it up soon, since Lewis wanted to take things to the next level anyway. “You know what - I’m in. If you want me there, then I’ll be there,” you smiled.

“If you want me there then I’ll be there” was something you told him every time he invited you somewhere. No matter what, he knew that you’d show up for him when he wanted/needed you to. He turned to you again with sparkling eyes, not being able to keep himself from smiling like a kid, “Alright then, I’ll make all the arrangements. Does Friday evening to Sunday evening sound good?” “Yes, Sir,”. He kept his focus on the road, unable to keep himself from smiling “I’m happy, baby. I can’t wait”

[mywritersmind]

SILVERWARE - LN4 spy au

summary : She gets flirted with all the time, called hot by attractive men, offered drinks by ugly ones. She’s seen it all. Tonight however, is a first for her. Called beautiful by a stunning man himself, and shooting the same one twenty minutes later.

listen up : spy!landonorris. suggestive comments. blood. guns. talk of sewing skin. knives. fighting!! hope you enjoy! this is very different from what i normally write but i loveeeed it! also spy carlos cameo.

words : 4615

⋆｡‧˚⋆

He’s been watching her. She knows it. It’s only a relief to one of them when he finally walks up to her and gives her the peace of mind that he wasn’t about to kill her.

She wants to say something first, but then she remembers her role. A role that isn’t too hard to play when a handsome curly haired man is trying to flirt with her.

“I’m sorry to bother you… I don’t know if you noticed me staring… building up the courage to talk to someone so gorgeous is harder than you’d think.” she switches her drink into her other hand and smiles innocently, liking the sound of his accent against the chatter filled room.

“With a face like that, you don’t need to apologize.” She sips out of the martini glass, her lipstick transferring on, “And thank you.”

“I’m Bob.” She doesn’t laugh, but is tempted. Instead she eyes his hand that’s being offered to her and shakes it. His eyes are a mix of blueish green, something only she could pick up in this environment.

He watches her face as she tries not to laugh, something he’s seen far too often when introducing himself with that name. Her hands are soft, his a bit ragged, but they both notice the shocking difference in size as they pull away. “Nic.”

“You here all alone, Nic?” His eyes still glance to the crowd, making sure to not miss the one thing he’s here for.

He knows he would get scolded for getting distracted, but he could easily argue that she was simply too beautiful to overlook. She wouldn’t get scolded, she’s a great multitasker and her team knows it.

“I’m here with my friend.” She lies, “She went off with someone a while ago. You?”

“Alone.” He nods, “Much happier now though, this is horribly boring.”

She nods at this, “Less boring when you’re a few drinks in.” She isn’t a few drinks in, in fact, she’s regretfully been sipping on the same martini for two hours.

He smiles at this, something devastating because she knows she won’t see his stunning smile again after this sad little conversation. He’s stunning and his smile is something she would love to explore.

She eyes his suit, perfectly fitted to him with a couple buttons undone. He likes her dress. It hugs her body with a perfect elegance, an almost hidden slit is what draws him in the most, that and her straps practically falling off her shoulders.

He doesn’t know that the slit is for easy access, and not the sexual kind. The metal kind that is strapped to her thigh and loaded.

She looks around the room, eyeing the man she’s been watching. What she doesn’t expect, is him to look at her. She turns quickly back to Bob, stepping closer and resting a well manicured hand on his chest, touching the collar of his shirt. “Breaking dress code… how bad boy of you.”

He smirks at her touch as she tilts her head, “What if I said a kid nicked it off me?”

Her fingers slip below the fabric, “I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Smart girl.” He says. It makes her want to roll her eyes but she’s quickly distracted by the hand that rests on her waist. “I like your dress.”

“You like my dress or how my boobs look in my dress?” her manner drops for a second, something she can’t help. To her luck, he laughs.

“Both?” He watches her eyes, knowing she can’t decide between being charmed or confused. He really has got to work on that-

“I’ve got to go.” She says suddenly, backing away. His eyes dart to the figure moving across the room.

“Me too! Lovely meeting-” But she’s already gone, taking off in the other direction, her drink discarded on the bar counter. He shakes his head, walking away and trying to focus on the job at hand, not the beautiful woman who just left him in her dust.

⋆༺

The gun is in her hand now, pointed at an old man who’s struggling to open a door. He clumsily fiddles with the key, apologizing over and over again to the three men that stand behind him. They don’t seem to care, standing pin straight in their suits.

The one in the middle is who she turns her gun at, Mickey Chavez. Her old partner and new target. The two behind him are the large, silent, you look at Mickey wrong and you die, type.

The hallway is long and shaded at both ends, she stands in the corner, looking around it with her gun poking out just enough. She won’t shoot, not yet.

The man finally gets the door open and she knows what she has to do. Except, someone seems to do it for her. Right as her trigger is pulled, two shots are fired but not from her gun. The two men fall to the floor in agony.

Her shot flew right over their heads and landed in the wall. She never misses. What the hell is happening?

The two men weren’t shot to kill, they hop around and groan because they were shot in their… feet?

She turns the corner, her gun out and her eyes narrowed, ready to meet whoever just ruined her perfect shot.

She expects someone she knows, at this point, she knows every woman and man on the circuit. She does recognize his face, but she’s never held a gun to him before, she only held her hand out.

“What the fuck!?” They say at the exact same time. He’s standing in the exact same position as her but at the opposite end of the hallway. They shoot at the same time, Y/n ducking even though the shot was nowhere close to her head. Lando turns, trying to get out of the way but the bullet grazes the back of his arm.

“Bob!?”

He groans, “Why is it always the pretty ones!?”

And then the hallways fills with gunshots.

In a temporary lapse of insanity, they apparently both forgot the two wounded men had guns.

She ducks instinctively, rolling to the side and shooting right back. Mickey doesn’t carry a gun, she knows this. It’s the exact reason why the old man and Mickey dive into the room and shut the door.

One man is running at her, a flash of blue behind him tells her that ‘Bob’ (Something she definitely knows is fake now) is charging at the other man.

The one that comes at her is honestly short, which makes her smile. It isn’t a long time until he’s on the floor in front of her. Thank you seven years of training and a lipstick taser.

He’s knocked out, slumped at her feet. She steps politely over him and struts down the hallway in her red bottomed heels. The other bodyguard is still fighting with the handsome not so stranger, something she rolls her eyes at as she shoves the door open.

“Y/n!” Mickey screams, scrambling up from the door and clearly not expecting her.

“Mouse!” She scoffs, using his old codename and pointing her gun at him. “Get on the wall or I shoot!”

“What are you doing here?” He stands, pulling his knife out. Ah yes, Mickey was always one for theatrics.

“Take a guess.” She steps closer, glancing at the whimpering old man, “Shut up, you’re not gonna die. You will be going to jail for having a hand in a murder and tampering with evidence!” She yells probably louder than needed, but so worked up about this case. “Oh and jewel theft.”

She glances at the giant glass box with a crown in it. The historic fashion girly in her wants to totally geek out over seeing the jewels but when the light hits them, she looks back at Mickey. “I always hated you.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s cause i’m gay, isn’t it.”

She shoots the wall behind him, “You’re not funny either. You sold me out! You were a shitty spy and now you’re a lousy thief.”

“I had to!” He whines as ‘Bob’ runs in behind her, out of breath and heading straight for the old man.

“Cut the shit and get on the ground!” I yell, “Where’s the crown.”

‘Bob’ is already getting to work on the glass, having tied up the old man already. He raises a brow but doesn’t say anything as he cuts the glass with a tool from his suit pocket.

“It’s right there!” He points to the glass, frowning.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” she hears the dropping of glass as she keep my eyes on Mickey, and then, because apparently no one trusts her, Bob drops to the floor.

What she doesn’t expect is someone to charge through the door and spray her in her shocked face, falling right next to Bob as the world fades away.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

He wakes up hungover with a girl next to him, or at least, that’s what he thinks at first. It wouldn’t be the first time, but they’re both fully dressed and when she wakes up, she screams.

Now that would be a first for him.

She goes to sit up but is yanked back down by something. He looks up and gets a horrible feeling because it’s the same thing on his wrist. Rope. He comes to the horrible realization that the pounding in his head is not from too much alcohol and the sharp pain on his back is not just because he slept funny.

Rope is tight on both of his wrists, except there’s someone else’s skin against one.

One wrist is tied to the headboard, the other is tied… to her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She says, staring at their bound wrists.

Wiggling around a bit, she groans even more, “They took my gun.”

He leans over, not feeling the familiar weight in his pocket, “Same.”

He frowns, not really knowing what to do and going through options in his head. They took his watch, glass cutter, knife- What the fuck is she doing.

Her leg is stretched out in front of her, through the slit in her dress and bending her knee to get her foot close to the banister. He gets distracted for a moment, watching her long tanned leg slip away from the fabric.

“What are you-” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence because she slips the heel of her shoe between the rope and it falls right off. “Christ, you’re flexible.”

She gives him a look, sitting up and untying their wrists, “You’ve got a blade in your heel?” She doesn’t say anything, just slips the rope off and stretches her arms, looking around.

“Who are you?” She turns to him, “Actually. And why are you in my way?” He tries to get himself untied, fiddling with the rope and staying unsuccessful.

“I’m Lando.” He sits up, reaching across him and wondering who tied this horrible knot, “And i’m not in your way- you’re in mine.”

“You’re a spy?” She says, quite rudely in Lando’s opinion.

“I don’t look it?”

She doesn’t respond, standing up and walking around the room that seems to be a basic hotel suite. “Why would they throw us in here…?”

“What’s your name?” Lando asks as she checks the room for weapons and people, peaking into the bathroom, then under the bed… giving Lando a great view of her ass-

She sits up suddenly, sending a sharp look his way. “I told you- It’s Nic.”

“Okay love, you’re awfully pretty but please don’t lie to me. I’m a spy too.” The fact that they met, both armed and on a mission, and She didn’t realize what he was concerned her.

Maybe he’s a better spy than she thought. But then again he didn’t know what she was either. She stands, moving her hair over her shoulder,

“Y/n.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n. For real this time.” He smiles, “Now… could you help me out here?” He’s still tied up, something that makes Y/n a bit too happy about.

“You’re supposed to be a spy. You’re not good with your hands?” A cool smirk slides over his face.

“If you untie me i’ll let you find out.”

She rolls her eyes at his line and walks over to the window. It’s fully clear, the night sky looking back at them with winks of city lights.

“Y/n.” He says her name softly, something that makes her pause, “I’m on your side- I mean… I want to get out of here as much as you do. And I don’t mind a little competition along the way.”

“Competition you can eliminate easily to win.”

“I pinky promise I won’t hurt you.” He holds up his free hand, sticking his picky finger out with a hopeful smile, “My wrist really hurts.”

She sighs, walking over to him and sitting on the side of the bed, trying to untie him with her hands first. He watches her intently as she makes the attempt. “Hard, isn’t it?”

“Shut up before I make you.” She whips off her heel and cuts him out.

“So I'm the one who should be worried then…” He rubs his wrist, now red and burned, “Doubt i’d mind having you shut me up.”

Her heel is at his throat in seconds, “Say it again, Curly.”

His smirk stays in place on his face, his hands up in surrender, “Jeez love… I’m sorry.”

“Help me with the door.” She slides her shoe back on, something Lando doesn’t understand considering her feet must hurt by now, and walks over to the door.

The second she touches the door handle, she flinches back, “Shit.”

He reaches into his pockets, just to be disappointed. “They took my shock blocker.”

She looks at him, slightly amused as her hand still tingles, “You have a shock blocker?”

“I get electrocuted a lot…”

“Is that how your hair ended up like this?” She steps closer, running a hand through his hair as if they’re back at the bar.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t back away, “Windows are locked?”

She drops her hand. “We’re on the Fiftieth floor. They don’t open at all.”

“Shame.”

“What would you do?” She crosses her arms, “Jump?”

“Better than getting shot again. Thank god they took your gun away-” He turns his arm, showing where he was sliced by the bullet through his suit and skin on the back of his bicep.

“Holy shit!” He’s bleeding still, soaking his shirt with deep crimson as she stares wide eyed at it. “Lando!” She hits, actually hits his arm! “Why didn’t you say anything!?”

She physically drags him by the collar of his shirt, proving to be far stronger than she looks before shoving him back onto the bed that they now realize has blood on it.

“It’s fine- i’m fine…” Until he sees the blood on her hands, making him a little woozy. “Okay maybe not…”

She marches over to the closet, throwing it open and pushing past the fluffy robes and safe, going straight for the tiny emergency kit.

Apparently their kidnappers did not have much time to think because most everything is still in this room. To her luck, there’s a small sewing kit. When he sees her pull out a needle and thread, he tries to get away, “No!”

“Yes.” She slams his shoulders back down, making him groan in pain.

“You are not sewing me up-”

“Yes the fuck I am!” She pulls his jacket off of him, unbuttoning his shirt next. He frowns, watching her hands move and pull the fabric off his skin. She tries not to have her gaze linger on his body, something even a highly trained spy struggles with. “Go ahead, make the dirty joke.”

He smiles despite the pain, “I wasn’t going to. But if you have one i’m all for it-”

Y/n huffs and climbs onto the bed behind him, hiking up her skirt so he can sit between her legs. “It’s going to hurt so just breath, yeah?”

She gets straight to it, wiping the dried blood with a washcloth and piercing his skin with no warning. “Fuck!” He bites his lip, hard. “Ah!”

She scoots her leg closer to him, “Grab my knee.” He does with no hesitation, the pain too great.

He leans his head back, “I hate you. Why did you have to shoot me!? Oh fuck-” She doesn’t cringe at the sight, having to do this to herself too many times. Her hands are shaking though. They always shake when she sees blood.

“Tell me about your mission. Tell me about why you shot those two idiots in the foot- I mean why the foot!?”

“Ugh!” He groans, “Um- I don’t shoot to kill. I can’t- Ow! My mission- to get Mickey. Just Mickey, I don’t know why.” She watches his jaw tense, making her oddly even more attracted to him.

“Interesting… He used to be my partner.” Everything in her screams to not tell him more, but the groan he lets out makes her continue, “Shitty partner. Only uses knives, likes the gore of it I guess. Creepy right? Anyway, He sold me out. Got me kidnapped too so I guess this is the second time.” She sighs, pushing the needle through skin as if it’s nothing.

“That- sucks!” He squeezes her knee tightly, hurting a bit but not complaining since it can’t be worse than what he’s going through.

“I always work alone but my team said I needed to be less of a loner or something- look where that got me.”

Lando chokes out a laugh, “Same- I mean, I only trust myself. Why complicate it?”

His curls brush her shoulder as he leans back into her, “Shit, Are you done yet!?”

“Actually…” She ties it off, “Yes!” She rubs his arm soothingly, something Lando could fall asleep too, “You did good.”

The words and touch combine make him shudder, standing up and rolling his shoulder, “Sorry about the blood…” He looks down at her hands, Her eyes leaving his only to glance at his body.

“I’m sorry about shooting you… And what’d I tell you?” She slides off the bed, “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well if I don’t then you definitely shouldn’t either. You didn’t know who I was.” He shrugs, “You wouldn’t shoot at me now, right?”

Y/n nods slowly, not making him feel any more confident, “Whatever you wanna tell yourself, Curly.” walking past him, she goes straight to the bathroom to wash the blood off her hands.

There’s a bang at the window, making them both jump. Y/n hurries out of the bathroom, Lando pausing as he pulls his shirt back on.

The whole thing happens in seconds, there’s glass everywhere and a breaking noise coming along with it. It’s not very loud, but a glass wall shattering isn’t quiet either.

The man that swings in has a harness on his waist, staring at the two people who hold up a lamp and a hanger to defend themselves. Y/n has no clue who this is, and is even more confused when he laughs.

He pulls his goggle like glasses off, “Wow you look stupid.” She’s about to be offended but then she realizes that his words are directed fully at Lando. He’s got thick dark hair and a spanish accent to match, wearing dirty jeans and a navy button down, he hugs Lando.

“What are you doing here!?” Lando says as if they’re old friends catching up at a highschool reunion! Y/n just drops the lamp and brings her hand to her hair.

“Saving your ass!” The mystery man claps Lando on his back and finally looks at Y/n who has been watching their bromance intently. “Of course you’d get stuck with a pretty one.”

“She shot me!” He says, turning to show his cut just as she groans and stomps over to the two men.

He’s still looking at the cut as if it’s the greatest thing on TV. “Hello!? You said you’re saving our asses?”

“Oh so you’re including yourself?” The man says, “I guess that’s fine.”

“Dude!” Lando says, “I just said she shot me!”

“Yeah mate… I'm taking her with if she got you.” He turns to her again, “Slippery fuck is impossible to shoot in drills, i’m impressed.”

“Back to the issue at hand!” Lando interrupts them, looking disgusted at his friend speaking to her, “You saving us or what?”

Turns out, he is! Lando steps into a harness as the man turns to her, “I’m Carlos, by the way. I don’t usually save Lando’s ass for fun but there was a call and I was the only one in office.”

Y/n smiles at this, liking the man more and more by the second, “I’m Y/n. How’d you get here…?”

“Chopper.” Carlos explains, “Not very inconspicuous so you better hurry!” Lando is all clicked in and ready to go, “Look, Y/n, I only planned on one damsel in distress today so you’re gonna have to piggyback off of Lan.”

Y/n’s heart drops, “Sorry?” but Carlos is already pulling himself back up the building.

“Don’t worry!” Lando smiles, “You trust me, right?”

“No!” Her eyes widen as his hands wrap around her waist, “Lando, No!”

“You’ll be fine, love, we only have one story to go-” he steps closer to the broken glass, the sound making Y/n nauseous as the open air hits her.

“No!” She stops in her tracks, “Lando- You don’t get it. I actually can’t.” Shes a world famous spy, she’s been shot, kidnapped, cut, and used, but her worst fear is still heights. “I’d rather try my luck with the door again.”

Lando stops, understanding her fear now and putting his hands on the sides of her arms, “Y/n. You just put a needle through my skin. I trust you enough to do that. I pinky promised you I wouldn’t hurt you. So please, trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His eyes are so sincere and oddly comforting in the moment.

He’s holding onto her dress only, her hands wrapped around the harness and rope that holds him up. Her eyes squeeze shut as they start dangling. Lando keeps his promise. He doesn’t let go.

It isn’t long until they reach the top, but for Y/n, it feels like years. She didn’t dare open her eyes, still keeping them shut as her heels met the gravel of the roof.

She intends to keep them shut, until she hears a thud. Carlos is on the roof, groaning at the impact as Mickey stands over him with a knife. “No!” Lando jumps into action, tackling Mickey and definitely getting cut in the process.

He’s holding the crown, she realizes. The real one. It gets flung out of his hand and as he scrambles to grab it, Lando kicks him in the stomach.

Y/n forgets every doubt she’s had about the two men, hurrying over to help Carlos, “He just knocked the wind out of me- Just, try to get Lan into the helicopter.” He stands and Y/n runs at Mickey.

This asshole. He sells her information. He gets her kidnapped. He tortures her. He kidnaps her again. And now he wants to hurt her hot new spy man!? No fucking chance.

She sees the knife get slashed across Lando’s chest, his shirt still unbuttoned and barely holding on as they roll around. Carlos is in the helicopter by now, starting it up and yelling over the noise.

Carlos throws a knife at her, apparently having enough faith in the woman who does catch it. “Mouse!” She screams as Lando pushes him off, the two now standing, “You always begged me to spar with silverware only, now’s your chance.”

Mickey grins, malicious and full of a sick want to see her bleed. The crown is on his shoulder, not going anywhere unless someone chops his arm off. If it’s going to be anyone, it will be her.

He runs at her, almost making her want to roll her eyes. Amateur. She stabs the knife right into his shoulder, but he uses these things more than she does, reciprocating the slice across her stomach.

Still, her corset keeps her safe. “Fuck you I liked this dress!” She goes for his chest, then neck, missing both as he sidesteps her.

“Y/n!” Her name is yelled over the whipping of wind, distracting her for a second too long and letting Mickey cut her ankle.

She kicks him in the face, making him fall over and blood start pooling out of his nose, “Cunt!” He yells as her heel grinds into his arm.

He grabs her ankle and twists it, forcing her to the ground and trying to climb over her. He makes an attempt to straight stab her neck but she swerves out of the way.

The movement and grunts next to her makes her realize that it was Lando’s voice who distracted her, the bodyguard from earlier pointing a gun at Lando and Carlos. “Shit, Mickey! You’re ruining my impression with my new friends!”

A knife comes at her again, her shoe intercepting it and making the silver clatter to the ground feet away. She gets him then, Stabbing his collar deep. She looks away, the sound making her sicker than usual. She doesn’t want to kill him, oh no, she wants him alive for what she’s going to do to him.

She doesn’t hesitate, standing up and throwing her knife straight at the bodyguard. Carlos is still in the helicopter, Lando standing below and watching her with wide eyes.

The knife hits the man right in the side of his neck, slicing through far too easy and making him shoot his gun. Except with the knife in his neck, he cries out and misses either of the men, shooting upward.

Lando runs to her without hesitation, “Are you okay!?” Is not what she expects him to say.

“I- yes!? Help me!” Mickey is half passed out, the pain too much. She grabs his feet, Lando grabs his arms.

Carlos helps throw him in, tying his wrists just in case, even though he’s fully out now. By the time they’re in the air, Lando and Y/n aren’t even strapped in.

They’re both breathing heavily, Y/n leaning back into Lando as they turn. His hand goes around her waist again, feeling the cut on her dress and panicking for a moment before he realizes it’s only the fabric. He holds onto the seat, as she leans her head back into him this time.

“I guess that’s why people have partners, huh?” Lando says, holding her tighter in his arms as they turn.

She nods weakly, “We both got what we wanted.” She holds up the glittering crown, proud of herself this time. Even if it took some blood.

“You basically brought my mission to me.” He says, “I owe you.”

She laughs dryly, “Buy me dinner and a a fucking trophy.”

Even though she laughed when she said it, he takes it to heart. “You know… having a partner might not be too bad.”

She looks up at him, her eyes narrowed, “I am not the person for that job.”

He smirks, a sense of warm relief finding its way back into her chest when she sees it, “Thing is love… I think you might be.”

[tenderyouth]

GOOD ENEMY ✶ zayne x reader

word count: 5.3k

tags: med school au ✶ no evol ✶ afab reader ✶ friends to academic rivals to lovers ✶ sub!zayne ✶ oral sex ✶ very light bondage ✶ unprotected intercourse

a/n: i am insane about zayne hence 2k words of them just making out (lord forgive me). english isn’t my first language. no beta. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! ✶

Your hands turned damp after clicking the refresh button on your computer. The exam results are supposed to be out today and you were sure that this time you’re taking the crown. You studied so hard for this, you really did. Countless nights spent reading and taking notes, the inhumane amount of coffee you’ve digested, all of this led to this point. You needed to get a hundred. You knew you would. It’s not like you had any real competition – well, you had, but Zayne told you he’s not even going to study that hard, after all this class isn’t even related to his major. When you asked him why he took it, he said it’d be a great distraction from his actually important studies. You laughed at that, but you knew that this is how Zayne always was. He always told you the truth. That’s why you were best friends. You could always trust him. He was always there for you, even when he had his own share of troubles.

You knew each other for a long time, even before university. You were friends since you could remember yourself. Every day you went to the same school, ate lunch together, went back home and sometimes you went to each other's houses to play. Zayne was two years older than you, and you were immensely grateful that he was kind enough to help you with school work despite being busy with his own classes. He never did any assignments for you, but he was there to explain the material and help with the homework if you felt stuck and helpless. 

After he left for university, you missed him a lot. But he was still kind enough to text you every now and then, and you called each other on the weekend to catch up. He told you about all the crazy things that happened in clinicals and you couldn’t feel more proud of him. He was really determined to graduate with honors and work as a doctor, and you knew that it’s only a matter of time before it happens.

You also dreamed of working with people, healing and helping those who are in need. It’s something you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t hold yourself back from doubting and rethinking everything. Could you really do it? Are you really cut for this job? What if you’re not smart enough? 

“Hey, are you still here?” Zayne’s voice cut through the speaker, catching you off guard.

“Yeah! What were you saying?” You chuckled into the phone, realizing that once again your worries got the best of you.

“You were not listening. What are you thinking about?” 

“It’s nothing. I just miss you, that’s all!” You unashamedly lied, hoping that Zayne would let it go.

“No. You’re thinking about something and you won’t tell me. Why?” Zayne’s voice was as stern as ever. He didn’t want to come off as rude but in truth, he hated the fact that he couldn’t be beside you right now. He could feel something bringing you down, but he couldn’t reach you. He felt helpless and he hated it, hated not being able to control the situation. He knew he could make it all better, but you were so far away and you were not letting him help you. 

Zayne couldn’t remember the last time he truly felt angry at you. In fact, he had probably never felt this way. He felt disappointed, mostly in himself, that he couldn’t be there when you needed him, even if you’d never admit it. 

“Zayne, it’s nothing. I’m just… I was thinking.” You couldn’t argue with him when he was speaking to you in that tone. You knew he wouldn’t back down, and you didn’t want to end the conversation on a sour note.

“About what?”

“About my future. I want to help people. I want to be important. I want to be useful. I’m scared I won’t make it.” You admitted. You could hear Zayne taking a deep breath. 

“Is that all?” 

“Yes? You want me to have more reasons to suffer?” You questioned, not understanding what he was trying to say.

“No,” you could hear Zayne smiling, “I don’t want you to suffer. I want you to be brave. You don't need to bear this burden alone. If you decide to go to Skyhaven and study here, I will be able to help you. You won’t fail.” 

Zayne’s reassuring words spread through your heart like a warm wave. He’s right, you had never failed when he was beside you. Even if you didn’t trust yourself, you trusted him. You knew he won’t let you down. And just like that, you decided the course of the next few years of your life. 

You clicked the refresh button once again. It wasn’t loading and the nerves got the best of you. Your eyes relentlessly monitored the small spinning circle at the top of the web page, as if you were trying to enchant it to load faster. Surprisingly enough, it worked. The page finished loading. You scanned through the list to find your name, and your heart twitched when you saw the score: 96. It’s… good. It’s just 4 points away from a hundred. Besides, everyone else seemed to have less points than you – 87, 86, 73, even 65. You relaxed into your chair, finally feeling peaceful. You’ve worked so hard and it paid off. You glanced at the screen once again, just double checking that you really did that. Your finger swiped across the touchpad, ready to close the browser, when it accidentally scrolled down to reveal one last student in the list – Zayne Li, with a score of 100. 

Lunch felt like a chore. You weren’t even that hungry, but you needed to nurture yourself so you could finish some last minute assignments tonight. You thought of running away to the dorms and getting some take out instead of going to the school cafeteria – you really weren’t in the mood to see or talk to anyone. Especially not Zayne, who was already sitting down at the table and reading something on his phone.

You sank into the seat next to him, loudly placing your tray on the table. Zayne didn’t lift his eyes, but he still acknowledged your presence with a small “hey”. 

“Hi, Zayne.” You grumpily replied and averted your attention to your food. 

“What happened?” Zayne stopped reading. He knew something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“You! You happened!” To your surprise, you yelled back at him. “How did you get a hundred?! You told me you weren’t going to study! A hundred!!!” 

Zayne looked dumbfounded. What were you talking about? Why did it even matter? 

“I apologize,” he stopped mid sentence to clear his throat, “but what exactly are you talking about?” 

Your face froze. He didn’t even know what you’re talking about. He just aced an exam that was the determining factor in your studies, and he didn’t even know that. The worst part was that he didn’t even care. It was a class he took for fun. You worked your ass off to nail it, and yet Zayne still managed to find a way to beat you. Your mind speed ran through all 5 stages of grief in the course of 10 seconds. 

“Zayne. You’re fucking unbelievable.” Your voice came out flat. “It feels like you’re doing this on purpose.” 

“I guarantee you I’m not.” Zayne suddenly felt bad. It really wasn’t his goal. He didn’t want to upset you, it was never his intention. Maybe he got carried away when he helped you study for the exam, and that’s why he got a high score. All he wanted to do was to help you. And maybe have an excuse to spend more time with you. After all, you both were too busy to see each other casually. So he had to take whatever he could, and if it meant getting into a class that has nothing to do with his major, he’d gladly accept it. “Let’s meet at 7 in your room. We can go over your answers and see what you got wrong.”

“I hate this so much…” your quiet mumble still reached Zayne’s ears. “You better help me or I’ll never forgive you.” 

“I will. Now eat. You only have 15 minutes before your next class.” Zayne returned to reading, leaving you alone with a bunch of nameless emotions and clashing thoughts inside your head.

You wanted to hate him. He was so perfect, in every sense of the word. He was smart, he was kind, he was so observant. He always made you feel important. He was too good. Too great at everything. Even now, when you were exploding with anger, he quietly accepted it and gave an offer of help and kindness in return. He was so perfect. You wanted to hate him. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So you wordlessly agreed to whatever he had proposed. 

By the time of your afternoon study session, you had managed to calm yourself and actually pay attention to the material in front of you. Zayne diligently reviewed your answers and circled some of them. He asked you a few questions, guiding your thought process in the right direction when he noticed you were getting stuck. Every time you gave a correct answer, he smiled at you, telling you that you got it right. After he had finished questioning you, he handed you the paper with his notes. 

“You fixed all of your mistakes on your own. These are the 4 questions you got wrong.” His fingers circled a few lines on the paper as he spoke. Your eyes widened. How did that happen? Maybe you weren’t paying enough attention when you were taking the exam? How did you get it wrong the first time? You actually did study well, and you knew your ABCs? 

“Zayne, how did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did!” You almost jumped out of your seat. “How did you get me to solve it?”

“I simply asked you some questions. It was you who gave all the correct answers.” Zayne watched you with a faint smile as you stared at the paper in front of you. 

“So I did get all of it right!” You turned to look at him. “We’re even! I got a 100 as well!”

Zayne chuckled at your excited expression. “No. You got a 96. But you did a good job nevertheless. A 96 is more than enough.”

“But I fixed all of my mistakes,” you suddenly felt angry all over again. “Come on, Zayne, let me have my moment!”

“Sorry. Beat you fair and square. But you put up a good fight.” Zayne patted his own knees as he leaned against the back of his chair. 

You truly couldn’t believe him. You knew he was determined and precise. But so were you. He wouldn’t back down that easily. And luckily for you, two could play this game. 

So before you could stop yourself, you climbed on his lap and crashed your mouth against his. Zayne let out a surprised yelp that drowned into your kiss, his hands gripping chair’s arm rests, as he was about to fall. You broke the kiss and stared into his eyes. 

“God, you make me so angry!” 

Zayne didn’t even stand a chance to speak before your lips smashed into his once again. His small gulps were silenced by your intense motions. His entire body froze from the initial shock of your fierce action. 

You were breathless, anger still plummeting through your veins. “Always acting like you’re better than me!” You whispered through your teeth, “I can’t stand it anymore. You will let me have my victory. I will make you.” 

Zayne couldn’t think straight. His heartbeat was uneven, mind obscured by the way you were talking to him. He had never seen you act this way before. And weirdly enough, he found himself enjoying being at your mercy. His hands left the armrests and found their place on your arms, slowly creeping up your biceps until they reached your shoulders. 

His grip grew stronger, slender fingers burying into your shoulder like razors. It felt good, too good — the way his soft lips clumsily moved against yours compared to his sharp grip on your body. You felt yourself slipping away, getting overwhelmed from feeling all at once. You had to anchor yourself, so you did the first thing you could think of. Your incisors tugged the supple flesh of Zayne’s lips. His body tensed up underneath yours instantly, his shoulder raised up to his ears, biceps twitching as his hand flew away from your body. It wasn’t a harsh bite, just a small reminder of the current situation, and yet it elicited such a response that you couldn’t help yourself from moaning into his mouth, pulling yet another hiss out of Zayne’s throat. 

You pulled away from his face just enough to admire the way he looked — messy hair, knitted eyebrows, squinted eyes, fluttering eyelids and parted mouth, glistening from your little maneuver. 

“You liked that?” You breathed against his face, eyes boring into his as you watched him come to his senses. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” His reply was barely audible compared to his rapid and noisy breathing.

Zayne finally opened his eyes and looked up at you, as if he was waiting for something more. He didn’t know what to do with himself now, everything felt too much — the walls were closing in and the ceiling was too low, your taste was ripping through his body like electricity, the heat radiating off your body felt like a sunburn. He didn’t trust himself anymore, not when the only thing on his mind was the way your rear end was pressed against his lap. 

He looked so enchanting, you thought to yourself — the usual composure and stiffness wiped away from his gorgeous face. 

“Not so cocky anymore, are you?” Your palm softly cupped his cheek, thumb running across his lower lip. Zayne’s eyes immediately closed, as yet another whine escaped his mouth. You felt bewitched watching him fall apart by your touch, his tender reddened lips and shaky voice amplifying your vile desire to make him submit and completely succumb to you. 

“No…” His voice trembled as his hand placed atop yours, “Just please… Kiss me more. Please.” 

And who were you to deny such a sweet, gentle request? 

Your mouth captured his lips once again. Your mind was blank, your chest was full of unannounced emotions and uncontrollable craving to get more of this, more of him. And subtle sobs that were occasionally flowing out of Zayne’s lips didn’t help you much. 

Zayne was convinced he was losing any remaining bits of sanity, how could he not? How could he battle to stay in control when your wet heat was spreading around his face, kissing, biting, licking and sucking out tattered remnants of his dignity? His face was twisted in undisguised pleasure, as his mind raced, returning again and again to the same question: at what point is it too late to keep holding on? Maybe the only way out of this is letting go? 

And that’s what he did.

Zayne’s hands desperately gripped your body. He moved raggedly, like he was feverish. He couldn’t think straight, not when your warm body was so soft underneath his fingertips. His hands were scattered all over the place, and you couldn’t help but giggle into the kiss. 

“You are so eager!” You teased him, as your hand glided down his chest and delicately tugged at his tie. 

Zayne couldn’t think of anything. All of his senses were flooded with you — your taste, your smell, your voice, your warmth, your touch. He felt like he’s going to melt. At least it felt like his brain already did melt, and the only thing he could say back was a choked out plea.

“Please… Please. Please. I…” his voice drowned out in a hiss when your hips grinded against his, eyes shutting and head spinning as he tried to regain composure to speak. “I need… I need you. Please.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. Seeing your dear friend, your biggest rival, spread out like that, begging to be touched? It messed with your head in a way that couldn’t be replicated by anything else. Lust eclipsed your mind and before you could think, your hands were already untying Zayne’s black tie and slipping it past his neck. Your fingers lightly tapped on his wrist that was laid on your hip, and he immediately lifted it, giving it to you without hesitation. You brought his hand up to your chest, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. Zayne’s eyes darted to your cleavage as he watched you placing his hand on the swell of your breast. His gaze was intense, yet he looked so perplexed, like he didn’t know what to do. You tried your best to drown a chuckle, before patting his head with your other hand.

“It’s okay, Zayne. Don’t be shy to –” a loud yell echoed from the depth of your throat as Zayne didn’t even consider giving you a chance to finish whatever you were going to say. His hands mushed your breasts and his mouth was all over your clavicle, adorning it with wet kisses and teeth marks. 

Between the kisses, you could barely hear Zayne babbling something into your skin, but your heartbeat got too loud that the small sound of his voice was not recognizable anymore. His heat spread across your chest to your shoulders as he pushed your shirt out of the way to suck and nibble on the flesh of your deltoids. His mouth was moving quickly, roughly trying to memorize every curve and millimeter of your body. You truly did enjoy his undivided attention, how good he was for you, how hard he was working to please you. It felt good, too good. You were feeling like you’re getting sucked into a black hole, the point of return slowly slipping away from your grasp. You needed to take action before it consumed you whole. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” you separated your body from Zayne’s mouth, and he unashamedly whined at the loss of contact. “You’ve had your fun. Now let me have mine.” 

Your hands slid up and down his arms, his black tie still clutched in your palm. As you played with his fingers, your other hand came to pull both of his wrists together, placing his tie around them. You  fastened the tie, making sure the knot is secure enough and the fabric isn’t too tight and rough against his skin. Happy with the result, you looked up at him and felt a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through your lower body. Zayne was staring at you, pupils dilated, you could barely see his irises; eyes almost blacked out. He wasn’t saying anything, but the way his face glowed in pure bliss told you everything you wanted to hear. So you did exactly that — unzipped his slacks in one swift motion, palming his prominent bulge that twitched under your touch. 

“What are you doing?” Zayne’s voice trembled as he watched you pull down the front part of his underwear, setting his member free from the confines of tight fabric.

His abrupt question stopped you dead in your tracks. Does he not want to continue? Does he regret allowing this to happen? Your eyes snapped back at him, scared to see his reaction.

“Do you want to stop?” Your whisper was loud enough for him to catch. Zayne didn’t reply right away. You could see the gears turning inside his head, as he was trying to say something back, but his mouth betrayed him. 

Suddenly, you felt so small under his gaze. You were so foolish to let yourself indulge in this, to feed into your delusion. Who told you it was okay to make such a bold move on your best friend? Why would you let yourself act upon your deluded dreams? And it is too late now, isn’t it? Considering that you’re literally sitting on Zayne’s lap, his midsection is completely exposed, and your hand is inches away from touching his obviously aroused intimate part? 

“No. I don’t… I don’t want to stop. I don’t ever want to stop. Just please… Be gentle with me.” Zayne finally breathed out. He felt like an eternity had passed before he could finally find the courage to say something. He noticed your stumped expression, and it almost looked like a wave of regret washed over your beautiful features, making your lips tremble softly. He couldn’t have that happen, not now. Not when he finally had the opportunity to have exactly what he had wanted and dreamed about countless times. 

“Please, don’t stop. Take me.” Zayne’s words pierced your eardrums like a spear, and you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. 

You placed your hand on his hip, while the other hand carefully touched his length, fingers curling around it and squeezing it before recalibrating your hand a bit upwards, so your fingertips are placed on its head. A sigh of relief slipped past Zayne’s lips when he felt your fingers playing with the tip, thumb pressed shut against his slit, covering itself in precum. Your thumb moved down, slowly spreading wetness all over the surface of his tip, eliciting more deep breaths out of Zayne. 

“You’re doing so good,” you hummed, “being such a good boy for me.” Your praise went straight to his cock, as you watched it twitch in your hand. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. Truthfully, Zayne has always been good for you. He’d always helped you with whatever you asked, been there when you needed him. He has been your biggest friend and supporter since you can remember yourself. He has always put you first. It has always been you, before anything and anyone else. Suddenly, you felt so silly for letting yourself be angry at him for something so trivial as a school test. It dawned on you, how unfair you were to him. Deep down you knew he didn’t take your words seriously, but the realization of it still left a bleeding mark on your heart. You needed to make it up to him. He deserved to know how wonderful he is.

“Zayne, let me take care of you. You’ll allow me, right?” Your soft gaze met his face. You looked smitten, cheeks tinged with a warm hue, eyes framed with crinkles as you smiled at him. 

“Yes. Please take care of me.” Zayne’s response ringed in your ears as you captured his lips in one last kiss before climbing down from his lap and settling on your knees between his legs. 

Your hands trembled with excitement. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You licked your lips before scooting closer to Zayne’s lap. You could feel your heart pounding, heartbeat muffling outside sounds like your head was in a noise canceling helmet. Your lips left a tender kiss on his abdomen, an inch apart from his cock that twitched in negligence. 

Your mouth finally captured his tip, lips holding it in place as your tongue lapped at his slit in a slow, benign manner. Zayne’s tied hands clenched into fists, as his hips stuttered and a groan slipped away from the depth of his chest. 

God, he was driving you crazy. 

Your mouth stretched wide as you began taking him deeper, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock. Moving your head up and down, trying to fit him whole, you couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to. Your judgement was clouded with raw desire, the only thing on your mind is that you need, no, you must make him come. One second he was deep inside, his tip pressing into the uvula; the next second his shaft was in your hands, your tongue kitten licking precum away. 

Zayne felt delirious. He wasn’t a virgin, he had some fun a few times before. It was good, he wasn’t complaining. But nothing felt even remotely the same. He never thought he could feel so much at the same time. Unknown emotions were swirling inside his chest like a storm, pulling his heart apart. It felt good, it felt wonderful, it delighted him, it hurt him, it made him feel like he’s going to pass out, it overwhelmed, it dimmed his vision, it filled his mind with euphoria, and he still needed more. He was so greedy, so unapologetically eager to take, take, take and beg for more. And for once in his life he knew that no matter what he asks for, he will receive it. 

Zayne’s restricted hand barely reached your hair, tugging it up so you could face him. You stopped for a second to admire him. He looked divine, so wrecked and fucked out, lips glistening with your saliva, forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat. You couldn’t tear your eyes apart from him, the image of this Zayne will be forever ingrained into your mind. He was so gorgeous, so pliant under your touch. 

“Please, let me have you. I– I need you so bad.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at his gentle request. “You can have me, Zayne. I’m yours.” You replied before you could stop yourself. 

Zayne’s eyes glistened with something you couldn’t put a name to. He didn’t say anything back, but you could feel the weight of his gaze as he looked at you when you said those words. 

“Come here, then.” Zayne patted his thigh a few times and you almost moaned at the gesture. He was truly driving you insane. 

You got back up on your feet and hurriedly slipped off your underwear. You froze for a second, not knowing where to put the little garment that will serve no use for the next few minutes. Zayne noticed your hesitation, and with a small chuckle he reached forward to take crumpled panties out of your hand.

“Here. It’s done.” His tied up hands awkwardly put the small piece of fabric into his shirt’s breast pocket. “Now come to me. And please,” he brought his arms forward, trying to stretch his wrists apart. “untie me.” 

“Yeah.” You giggled as you released his hands, and before you could say anything else, his palms were on your hips, gripping it so intensely that there will be marks tomorrow for sure.

Zayne didn’t waste any time. He sat you on his lap once again while his hands were roaming your lower half, caressing your thighs, ass, squeezing your flesh like it was dough. His mouth was on yours, messily kissing and biting your lips; teeth clashing, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered to be careful, he had to have you. He needed you. One hand lifted your hips, the other hand lined up his cock to your entrance. His eyes darted up at you before pushing in, as if he was looking for some kind of confirmation. You sighed softly and leaned to his ear, leaving a small kiss on his earlobe. 

“Zayne, please…” your murmur sent a shockwave through his entire body, and with a broken moan he pushed his hips upward. Your mouth fell open, a sharp breath leaving your lungs. Zayne’s hands gripped your hips harshly, lowering your body onto his cock. His mind was a blank canvas, and your body was a central piece. He needed to picture it, needed to transfer your shape onto the fabric of his imagination so he could never forget how heavenly you looked unraveling on his length. 

His hands helped navigate your hips, fucking you up and down halfway, before you whined into his ear. “Zayne, please… I need you deeper.”

How could he reject such a sweet plea? 

In one fluid motion, he pushed you down entirely. Your shocked gasp sent shivers down his spine, and he knew he was doing something right when he felt your walls squeezing around his length. His hands found home on your lower back as you rocked up and down, trying so hard not to fall apart right there. You couldn’t speak, just moaned every time you felt him stretching you out, making you feel like you’re levitating. He felt so good, you thought to yourself. You could get used to this. You didn’t ever want to stop touching, feeling him, loving him. You needed him, every cell in your body yearned to be loved and claimed by his touch. Everything felt like it’s too much and not enough at the same time. You felt yourself getting closer, barely registering the way Zayne’s mouth found your hardened nipple and sucked on it. 

“Zayne, I… I can’t! I– I’m gonna!” You could feel yourself shaking, legs giving out as your clit throbbed. And as if Zayne was reading your mind, his hand came down to relentlessly rub on your bud, giving you no chance to stop yourself from falling apart.

Your vision blurred, nails gripping into his skin like blades. Your hips stopped moving, but Zayne wasn’t happy with that. He clutched your hips in a death grip and started bouncing you up and down his cock, prolonging your pleasure to the point where you cried out loud from overstimulation. 

“Ah, please! Zayne, please!” Your cries fell on deaf ears as Zayne never stopped fucking into you, chasing his own high with a vicious desire. His movement was relentless, drunk off the feeling of your warm wetness spreading around his lap with each thrust. He felt like he was going to explode any second, but he just couldn’t get enough of you; his body betraying his mind as he continued devouring your lips in hungry kisses. 

“I’m close,” Zayne rasped against your cheek. “Where do you want me?” 

Your mind was racing, you couldn’t think of anything. You gathered all the strength that was left in your body and slid off his body, almost tripping and falling to your knees in front of him. Zayne watched you with wide eyes, his hand coming down to jerk off his throbbing cock. He gaped at you as his hand was working up and down his shaft, mouth opened, letting out a suffocated moan as his release spilled out all over his thighs and your chest. 

Zayne’s head dropped forward, damp hair slowly unsticking from his forehead. He was still panting, his hands placed on top of his knees, trying to regain composure. Your hands were neatly wrapped around his calves, fingers carefully massaging his muscles. None of you spoke. Both of you wanted to stay in this moment for as long as you’d allow each other. 

He was the first one to break the silence. Zayne looked at you and smiled before speaking. 

“I should clean you up.” He reached for the tissue box on your table, took a few pieces out and started stroking away the mess that he made. You reached for the box as well, stealing a few tissues to deal with the wet patches on his pants. 

“Thank you.” Your voice came out small, and you almost laughed at how weirdly it sounded. “For studying with me. And for putting up with my bullshit.” 

Zayne’s face started to hurt from smiling. He tapped on your shoulders, silently asking you to get up from the floor. When you were finally at his eyes level, he took your hands into his and interlaced your fingers. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” He whispered against the back of your hand before pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

“We’re even now?” You beamed at him, heart fluttering at the sight of your hands locked together.

"We are. More than that."

[sweetinsaniiity]

hiii i have a cnc/dubcon request for san ^^

imagine hard dom!san is about to enlist and his s/o knows how much she'll miss him so she gives him 24 hrs free use. the moment he hears this he can't fall asleep, waits til the clock strikes 12 and starts fucking her in her sleep until she wakes up. throughout the day he doesn't let her rest, making her cockwarm if he's too tired. when the 24hrs is almost up, san doesn't care but she notices, tries to reach for her phone to check the time but he just pins her arm down and fucks her even harder for another few hours

(maybe some cum play would be the cherry on top, san scooping it out to make room for more, then trying to push it back in with his fingers but it keeps gushing out so he fucks it back in, or maybe even making comments about how she'll still be dripping by the time he's discharged)

Admittedly, this was not the easiest thing to procure as this lies beyond my accustomed sphere - out my comfort zone, per se. Not the CNC part, but the free use. But alas, yours truly will always rise to the challenge. I'm hoping this was worth the wait.

Unaware and Unawake

genre/au: nonchalant!Sannie, borderline emotionally constipated but he does genuinely love you, established relationship, military au, not my usual thing tbh because this is a lot of filth rating/warning: PG-18+ so MDNI!!! CNC and dubcon (all completely and explicitly consensual) free use, somnophilia, multiple creampie, multiple orgasm, cockwarming (both pussy and mouth), dacryphilia, cum play, dom!San, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!) word count: 9.7K words (got carried away with the plot)

He tried his very hardest to control the smallest tick on his facial muscles as he stared at your big, pretty doe eyes looking up at him with such uncertainty. 

There was also deep sadness laced underneath all the storm that was brewing in them. San wanted nothing but to reassure you that the both of you were going to be okay, but that wasn’t within his rights because for obvious reasons, he can’t control the way you felt.

“Are you sure about this, San? Tell me,” you frowned deeper, processing the information that he just told you over what you thought would be an uneventful dinner one night. 

San had just told you the biggest and most unexpected news he could possibly drop on you - that he was enlisting in the military this upcoming Monday. That was in three days.

“I mean, I’m not trying to change your mind, not at all,” you murmured. “I’m just curious about your thought process, that’s all.”

You watch him sigh ever so slightly, looking back down on his dinner plate, slicing away at the wonderful steak dinner you had prepared for him tonight. 

“Are you?” San asked, continuing his slicing with a slow, deliberate motion. He didn’t look at you, didn’t shift and didn’t fidget. It was as if he just told you the current weather situation.

You didn’t take offense at his indifference - not at all. Choi San was just naturally calm, impassive, and stoic. Sometimes, it was mistaken by other people as standoffish and arrogant, but that’s just how your boyfriend was. He was a man of very few words. 

Maybe there was something wrong with you. You found this attitude on him insatiably hot, especially the rare times he’d show his softer side to you and you only. He wasn’t particularly outright with his affection, but he would reach out to you every moment he could. 

“I suppose,” you shrugged. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought about this well. It just seemed logical to ask, that's all.”

San put the steak in his mouth, meeting your gaze once more. His expression was unreadable - calm, detached, the way he always was. He chewed exaggeratedly, trying to hide the smirk threatening to break his stoicism.

Logical. It was how you were, it was how he was. It was what this relationship was solely built upon. It was like picking a gum flavour in a randomest, dinkiest petrol station situated in the corner of nowhere and not something that would take him away from you, from this - from everything.

But there was fondness in San’s eyes as he stared at you through his lashes. He never tells you enough how much he appreciates you.

You’ve never questioned the way his mind functioned, never second-guessed on supporting him through his decisions no matter how illogical they may sound. You were just there, and he knew that you’d still be there by his side through thick and thin.

Still, it didn’t mean it didn’t pain him to tell you that he was deciding to leave you for the time being and get his military enlistment out of the way. It wasn’t a one and done decision; it was something he’d stewed in and stressed about for weeks.

“I did,” he answered. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you and I could build our life together. I just want to get it over with.”

He casts a discreet gaze on the small drawer he’d put a gift he bought earlier in the day that reminded him of you. San was aware of how nonchalant he comes off, and he was trying his very best to show you that he loved you to the moon and back even though he doesn’t say it often.

He quickly averts his eyes before you notice. You were nothing but keen and observant, after all. Instead, he grabs the small folder that’s been set to his left. He slides it towards you casually like it was a takeout menu.

“Sign it,” he whispered, handing you a pen, purposefully not saying anything about the confused frown on your face.

You stared at San’s impassive face for a couple of seconds before tentatively opening the folder. Your brows automatically raise up to your hairline.

Legal paperwork. Temporary transfer of ownership of San’s business that he built from scratch before he even met you. Your lips quivered as the pen on your hand shook from the nerves, trying hard to concentrate on what the contract in front of you entailed. It was the least you could do.

San found success in starting his own property management company. It was his pride and joy. Every surface of the business he perfected over years, every drop of his blood, sweat and tears combined with all his burned out youth - it was all in there, wrapped up in black ink and legal terms.

And he was asking you to sign your name on it like he was asking to see what your handwriting looked like. Your fingers traced the edge of the paper.

“You trust me that much? San, this is big,” you bit your bottom lip, trying to mask how touched you were by the gesture.

He didn’t answer right away. San crossed his arms, watching your face get more and more emotional by the minute like he hadn’t just handed you the only thing he ever truly loved, besides yourself, of course.

He raised a playful brow, tilting his head - another rare show of how much he let himself loose in your presence. Truly, you had no idea how amazing you were to San. If only he knew how to express himself better.

“It’s either you, or I close the business for two years until I come back,” he finally said, voice low and sincere. “I know I don’t say it much, and I’m truly sorry, my love, but it never meant that I don’t mean it.”

You immediately shook your head at him, wagging the pen in front of his face for effect, too. San’s lips quirked up in the corners, barely anything to be considered a smile, making you giggle out loud. Music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me,” you smiled sweetly at him. “I can feel it, San. I know you love me.”

The decision wasn’t lost on you. The pen dragged smoothly onto the paper, imprinting the utmost trust that San had placed on you. It was far better than love, if someone asked you. Trust was difficult to come by.

But then, you saw it. When San thought you weren’t paying enough attention to him, a real smile passed through his lips. He probably didn’t even notice it, himself. It was the type that brought out his gorgeous dimples that you loved poking to annoy him.

It made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, a thought crosses your head. Instead of sliding the folder across the coffee table like a transaction, you stood up. 

San looked confused, but you walked over to him, slow and steady, and placed it gently back in his hands, a small smirk painting your face. His eyes shifted to you, calm but alert. And just like that, the air between you two changed.

He took the folder, but didn’t move away. “You always were bossy,” he murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

“Please. You love it.”

His brow twitched, maybe the hint of amusement, maybe something else. He hadn’t stepped back, and neither had you. Something in that expression brought something out of you, and you wanted to make the most out of it.

You placed your leg in between his, dangerously close to that area that ruled San’s head sometimes. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, desire clear in his haze.

It was a defense mechanism on your end. You didn’t want to think about how much you were going to miss San when he was gone, you had plenty of time for that when you’re alone, but the very thought of it was already getting to you. You wanted to be strong for the both of you. The last thing you wanted was for San to worry about you as well when he was away.

You didn’t want his body to be there, but his heart at home with you. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He had probably decided this weeks ago, long before he thought to mention it. 

You curled your fingers on his shirt collar, dragging him towards you. The gesture darkened his eyes significantly. You bit your lip to stop your smile, and instead leaned down further, close enough that your breath ghosted warm against his skin, just below his ear.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” you whispered, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Free use. No questions asked. You can do whatever you want with me,” you bit his earlobe softly. San groaned, shivering. “And I mean, anything.”

You knew he was going to miss you, too. Maybe even more than you’ll miss him.

San’s jaw clenched so tight, you were slightly afraid that he was going to break in his teeth, his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the folder, the corners crinkled badly. You reckoned you needed to re-print the whole thing now.

You grinned widely, this rush of power suddenly surging through you making you giddy. He turned his head just enough that your lips nearly brushed.

“Dangerous thing to offer,” San said, voice a shade rougher now. His eyes met yours in a heated stare, the intensity of it almost making you falter. Almost.

You subconsciously clenched down there, scoffing at him. “I’m not scared of you.”

His eyes flicked over your face, pausing at your mouth. That almost-smile from earlier threatened to return, but didn’t. The tension was killing you, but you weren’t going to back down. You wanted to see how far San would take your offer, how far you could push him before he broke.

“Not yet, no,” he said, prying your fingers from his collar and pushing you gently away from him so he could stand up and tower over you and smirk cockily at you. Oh, that definitely made you clench harder. “But you should be.”

But that night as San lay on his back, arms folded under his head, staring at the ceiling like it might have the answers, he couldn’t sleep. Turns out, he was the one scared.

He’d tried to brush it off, told himself you were just teasing him and just trying to get a reaction, but your voice echoed in his head like you had whispered it into his bones.

You’ve got twenty-four hours.

And he did tell you that it was a very, very dangerous thing to offer. The possibilities were endless, but that wasn’t what he was worried about.

San meant it when he said that it was literally dangerous. He will break you, and the worst part was that he will have the time of his life seeing your eyes roll behind your head as he made you come over and over again, and even then, he wouldn’t stop. 

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see your sleeping form beside him. Your back, the curve of your shoulders rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm as you snoozed away, unaware of the nastiest, most sadistic thoughts slowly forming in San’s head.

Those thoughts sent blood rushing down south. With a deep breath, he carefully lowered his boxers, just enough for his aching, leaking cock to spring free from its confines. He hissed when cold air hit his skin, but it wasn’t enough to deter how hard and erect he was just by looking at your bare shoulders and neck.

Oh, how he’d love to mark your skin akin to a world map, only purplish in bruises instead of the multiple countries he’d take you after he was discharged.

Fine, he thought. He would use you like the whore you were. His right hand would be his only companion for months after he enlists, pretending it was your pussy instead.

San glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, groaning and gritting his teeth in annoyance when the clock showed 11:45 P.M. You didn’t explicitly say when to start, but San knew better than to jump you immediately. 

He smirked cruelly, you thought you were so slick, always thinking that you had him figured out, but he knew you like the back of his hand. You were definitely expecting him to immediately take your offer, but no, he was going to milk his time.

San grasped his cock, sighing in a quiet but sharp breath, biting his lips to keep his pleasured groans to himself so as not to wake you up. He was harder than he has ever been in his life, and ironically, he wasn’t even doing anything with you. His eyes raked at your sleeping figure, squeezing his weeping cock tighter in his hand.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long unless he paced himself, but he couldn’t help tugging his cock a bit back and forth, up and down, the sound of his fists slapping against his shaft turning him on more than ever. 

He couldn’t believe it - he was literally jerking off next to you as he slept. He felt dirty, but the thought of it could almost make him bust. He used his palm to rub some of his precum as lube, but when that wasn’t enough, he positioned his hand in front of his mouth to spit on it.

But, he stopped at the last minute. He looked at the clock once again, rolling his eyes when he realized that three minutes had only passed. 

He waited a bit to see if you were going to move, but no, you hadn’t. You were still sleeping, still peaceful. Carefully, he scooted beside you, his face hovering over you slightly until his fingers found your lips, delicately parting them so he could coat them with your saliva.

When that was said and done, he laid back down comfortably and closed his eyes, stroking his cock with your saliva as his lube. The filthiness of it made his cock twitch in his hand. 

He was extremely turned on and he was so excited that he almost finished right there and then, but he didn’t waver as he continued to stoke away as he stared at your beautiful face. But he’d waited, kept himself patient and let the tension grow as he held breath.

The minutes couldn’t have rolled slower, but the moment the clock said 12:00 A.M., he didn’t hesitate.

He shifted forward, arm sliding around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. You stirred with a soft inhale, and for a second, he froze. He thought you were waking up, maybe he was a little too excited, but you weren’t.

A short, sarcastic laughter of disbelief escapes him. San couldn’t believe it, but more so, towards himself. He realized he didn’t want you awake. You waking up would mean that the excitement would be gone.

You were still asleep, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to you.

The thought of it actually put a slight damper on his erection. An evil smirk decorates his face as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand on your pretty neck. Despite that thought, he wouldn’t mind you waking up in the process of him defiling your body. It got him harder than he thought he already was.

It aroused him greatly. The thought of how forbidden this all was. However, he had explicit permission from you. Still, he wouldn’t want to hurt you.

San carefully pushed up the oversized shirt you liked wearing to sleep and admired your exposed body. He caught sight of your perky tits, they were just the right size for him and his hands. He didn’t hesitate further and caught your nipples between his fingers.

When all you did was let out a small, pitiful whimper in your sleep, it was when it fully hit him. You were really at his mercy. It intoxicated him, all this power.

He stroked his cock as he played with your nipples, pinching them a little harder than usual just to see if you were going to stir. This time he couldn’t help but furrow his brows, he didn’t realize you slept this heavily.

As he continued to knead the soft flesh of your breasts, his eyes suddenly went down on your parting lips, your light snores filling in his ears. The idea of his cock in your mouth as you snored started to arouse him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, hovering over you, careful not to crush you beneath him as he started to line up his cock onto your plush, inviting lips. 

A surge of pleasure shoots up his spine at the sight. A desire for excitement at the thought of him doing something technically morally wrong gave him a sort of kick he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

He leaned down, giving your forehead a gentle, chaste kiss before he filthily inserted two of his fingers inside your mouth, exploring the wet cavern roughly, not even caring if you woke up at this point. 

“Fuck,” San hissed as he slid his cock into your mouth. He withdrew, not wanting to choke you in your sleep, but he couldn’t help but chase that euphoric sensation and thrust back in ever so slightly so you wouldn’t be startled awake and, well, actually choke.

He worked his way down your body, his right hand mindlessly alternating between kneading and squeezing your tits while his left played with your dripping cunt, rubbing at your clit slowly and rhythmically.

Just when he thought that this couldn’t get any better, you started to make weak, suckling motions on his cock as if in sleep, you knew that you had to please San. You twitched a little when he jerked a bit and pressed on your clit a little too hard in surprise, but that didn’t rouse you or stop your sucking.

It was the most peaceful San had ever seen you, if it wasn’t for your mouth stuffed full of his cock. He barely had time to pull out and come on your chin and neck, his warmth spurting out in bursts of endless streams.

Sweat pooled on his temples. He smirked, what a sight you were - covered in his cum without even knowing. If his painting skills weren’t garbage, he would immortalize this on a canvas.

Unfortunately, he had to wipe all of it away before he covered you again with the blankets. He was spent for the night, so he went to the bathroom to douse himself in cold water before he went back and tried to sleep beside you.

But he couldn’t sleep, for the life of him. He cursed under his breath so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if God suddenly struck him with lightning. He pictured your face streaked with his cum once more, and it was enough for him to get aroused again.

He could feel his cock twitching and pulsing in his boxers again. He wondered how in the world he could feel so aroused when he had just orgasmed.

He tossed and turned, tried to erase the erotic image of you away from his head. San even started to picture dead animals and some random images of naked grannies in his head to will his erection to, hopefully, go away, but to no avail. He wanted you, and he wanted you so, so bad.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when he decided that he was going to have you, consequences be damned. This time, he was going to have you in the way that you deserved. He was going to put you in your place.

It was almost four in the morning when he parted your legs open. Usually, he took his time to finger you and get you nice and prepped for him, but he could barely wait to be inside your warm heat this time. San hugged you from behind, spooning you while he nudged the tip of his cock at your entrance, groaning when he slipped easily inside. 

He went slow at first, still not wanting to hurt you, but gradually, he shifted and decided to fuck you while he was on top. He couldn’t take it anymore, he fully jammed himself deeper in you and fucked you fast and hard, his balls slapping lewdly against your ass.

You stirred under him, startled awake. At first, you were confused at the tingly, delicious feeling penetrating you, until you locked eyes with San who was just going at it on top of you. He smirked at you as he claimed your pussy, and the moan that you let out was loud enough to wake up every single person in the neighbourhood.

“Sannie, mmm, s-shit,” you stuttered, still stumbling over your words as you were still half-asleep,

San wrapped an arm around your lower back, effectively burying himself completely deeper, hitting that spot inside you that had you squealing in delight. “Don’t fight it, let me have you,” he kissed your jaw, his silent growls hitting your ears as he continued with his onslaught.

It was when you realized how sticky your mouth kind of felt. After a moment, arousal spread through you when you realized that you were tasting warm cum on your tongue. Had San already had his fill with you before you even woke up?

The thought had you wrapping your arms around San’s broad shoulders, scratching at his back in retaliation, though it didn’t diminish how much it turned you on that he took you without you knowing. 

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” San growled as he thrust in your cunt roughly without any mercy. He wouldn’t stop now that he could do whatever the hell he wanted with you.

You fluttered, squeezed, around him. “Damn, that feels good,” he grunted. He didn’t need to stay quiet any longer, he could curse and groan as loudly as he damn well pleased now that you were fully awake.

“Oh God, p-please,” you lifted your hips up the bed, placing your hands on San’s plump behind to get him deeper inside you. 

San grinned, his growls sound more primal through his teeth. He had known you were perfect, so perfect for him, but this just completely solidified it. You were so responsive to him, gasping as your pussy took him.

It didn’t take long for him to burst, his hips drilling into you hardly one last time before his seed painted your tight hole white. He felt your nails scrape across his back, and through the haze of his orgasm, he could feel your orgasm peek through, albeit less strong than the usual ones he’d give you.

“Had fun?” You asked with a small giggle as San panted on top of you.

“No,” he smirked cockily, rolling his hips when you pouted. He groaned, his soft cock sliding out from the mess of cum he’d dumped into you. One of many today. “Not yet.” 

You were starting to regret your decision. Well, not entirely, anyway. You should’ve known how shrewd and cunning San was, but you had severely underestimated him. 

When you woke up a few hours later, San wasn’t on the bed with you anymore. That was fine because you knew he was most likely doing his daily morning jogs. If he had time, he’d usually get you coffee and croissants along the way, too.

Definitely a man of few words, but an absolutely consistent man of actions. But just in case he didn’t have time, you decided to make breakfast. 

You were standing at the stove, in the process of oiling it and putting the heat on, when you heard the front door open, San’s familiar footsteps filling in the silence of the kitchen.

“Hey, love,” you murmured when you felt him behind you.

He hummed, not bothering to say a word, as he circled his hand up to your waist and pulled your face to his for a quick peck on the lips. You bit back a smile when he set down your coffee and croissants to the side.

You were expecting him to sit on the table to wait for you to finish, but he repositioned himself behind you, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. You shivered at the contact, and it definitely wasn’t because of the morning breeze.

At first, he was tender. San nosed your jaw, his teeth light grazing the sensitive parts of your neck. You let out a breathy moan when he reached up and palmed your breasts through your shirt - well, it was technically his shirt -  your nipples hardening against his teasing hands.

You tried to turn and kiss him again, but he held you tight, grinding his hips against your ass with his half-hard cock. It was when you felt him snap. 

He grabbed your hips hard - hard enough to leave marks. “S-San,” you whined in pain when he pinched your nipples, squirming against his touch.

“Shut your mouth,” he grumbled, thoroughly turned on at the sight of you wearing his shirt, lifting it enough to grab a handful of your plump ass.

You had expected restraint. Maybe something slow, almost sweet. But no, that wasn't how he worked, not when the clock struck and the rules were finally gone by your own accord.

He wasn’t just taking what you offered it - he was owning it. You felt it in the way his grip tightened when you gasped and in the way his mouth found your throat like it had been waiting for permission to devour you.

And he was going to swallow you whole like it was the first war he intended to win before he even enlisted. 

“San, slow down—oh!”

You choked out audibly when he didn’t hesitate to rip his shirt off of you in pieces. With a harsh tug, he turns you around, dragging you like a ragdoll towards his direction. “No, this twenty-four hours is mine,” he barked. “Come here.”

And he did something you were not expecting, not in a million years. You yelped when his arms swept across the table like a madman, the table and the whole house shaking as all the plates, mugs, and glassware you set on the table all crashed down the floor, the sharp edges of broken pieces scattering like shrapnel.

Your jaw dropped, startled. “San! What the hell—”

He spun you to face him, hands firm, eyes dark with something you hadn’t seen in him before - something that wasn’t just hunger, but need. It was nothing short of raw and wild.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, voice low and tight, like it was dragged from somewhere deep. 

His mouth was on yours before you could speak. He kissed the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, leaving a trail of heat as he pressed you back against the table, reckless and relentless.

“You broke everything,” you whispered against his lips, half-laughing, half-breathless.

“I’ll buy you the whole damn store when I get back.”

He was lifting you onto the edge of the counter, hands gripping your thighs, the sound of broken ceramic crackle as he moved. But he didn’t flinch, because to him, nothing mattered in that moment except you.

Not the mess. Not the noise. Not the goodbye waiting on the other side of the sunrise.

You didn’t need prepping, San was able to slip inside you once more with ease. He didn’t wait for you to adjust, he immediately started a rough pace that had the table underneath you shaking with the force of his thrust.

“Ah, yes,” he laughed sadistically as he fucked into you roughly. “This is what I want.”

You couldn’t do anything except open your mouth to let out the most wanton of moans and just take the delicious abuse of his cock hitting pleasurably inside of you. You moved your hands to try and grab the edges of the table, but San stopped you.

“No, no, no, my little slut,” he growled, slapping them off, making you whimper, the slight sting of it going straight down your fluttering pussy. “Hands and eyes on me.”

You rolled your eyes at the back of your head, mumbling something out loud that turned out to be gibberish. “What was that?” San snapped.

“H-Harder,” you whimpered, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth and flowing out down the table. San’s cock grew impossibly harder at how cock dumb you looked right now. “Harder, San, harder—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he ploughed, harder at your command per curse.

He wasn’t going to last long and you knew it. His hands wrap around your neck, using it as momentum to push you deeper and deeper onto his throbbing erection, like his goal was to have your guts rearranged by the time he was done.

He stills, his warmth spilling inside of you once more. A growl resounds from the back of his throat as he slapped his hips two more times before he let go of your neck. “You okay?” San asked, tucking your hair behind your ears, his voice hoarse, cracking in the middle.

You pouted. “I didn’t come.”

He raised a brow, a ghost of a smirk threatening to break from his lips. “I know,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah? Put your legs up.”

You frowned, but moaned anyway when he pulled out, pushing your legs high up in the air. He leaned down, laughing smugly as he stared lewdly down there. You blushed in embarrassment, but didn’t say anything.

“Holy fucking shit, I came a lot,” he shook his head in amusement. “Shit, that’s a lot of cum.”

You were about to retort something ridiculous when he turned back to look at you, all amusement gone from his eyes. “I’m going to take a nap,” he mumbled with a hint of command in it. “You better not let any drop of this out. Not a single one.”

Your face turns even redder at how filthy his request was - how it turned you on to not be able to say no. “B-but how? I-I don’t know how to,” you sputtered out.

He shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Even after he carried you to the couch so you wouldn’t step on glass, and even after he had cleaned up and vacuumed all the mess, that smug smirk never left his lips.

You resorted to clenching your pussy so his sperm wouldn’t drip out of you. God, you thought. It was so filthy, so dirty, and something you never thought San would ever ask of you. But you loved every bit of it.

You went and did your daily routine, San’s cum still inside of your clenched cunt. It was difficult, sometimes you’d forget and you’d feel the sticky warmth begin to trail down, but before it oozed out, you would clench back again.

You decided to go to the bathroom to check - even the thought of this made you blush as if you and San hadn’t just fucked on the kitchen table - just to see the state of your pussy full of San’s cum when you were suddenly pulled into the bedroom where San was napping.

“S-San?” You yelped when his sharp eyes took in your form, his tongue darting out to lick his lips salaciously.

“Take your clothes off,” was all he said.

It was how you found yourself face down on the bed, your hips up in the air with your legs sprawled open for San to admire your glistening hole. He groaned, seeing all his cum still contained inside your inviting pussy.

“What a good girl,” he chuckled darkly, trying to contain his excitement at the prospect of you literally doing anything he wanted even if it’s just for today. “You deserve a reward.”

He slid a finger into your soaking, wet opening, pushing his trickling seed inside you. It produced an obscene, squelching sound that went straight to his aching cock. Without thinking, he dived in, his tongue automatically latching on your swollen clit as he teased your cunt with little swirls.

“W-What are you doing, San,” you squirmed, slightly alarmed, fisting the bed sheets so tight, your knuckles turned white.

It was completely fueled by passion on his end. He moved his head lower, running his tongue up and down your slit and flicked it back and forth over your clit. Pushing his tongue into you, his mouth was assaulted by the salty, slightly bitter, taste of his own cum. It was certainly a new experience for him, but nonetheless, it served to turn him on even more.

You had begun to relax, pushing your ass subconsciously on San’s face. He was more than happy to oblige, his rough hands gripping on your thighs as he ate you out with more urgency.

He dove two fingers back into you, all the while he alternated between sucking your clit and finger-fucking you. He moved faster, making you moan loudly. You were so loud, it spurred him on even more.

“Oh, G-God, San, San, San,” you screamed when he hit that particular spot deep inside of you with just his fingers.

But it was the vibrations of his laughter that had you exploding on his face. He felt your pussy pulsate on his fingers, and it was when he knew that you had come. 

You kept trembling with every touch, and he wanted to gloat, but all that died down when he heard your sniffles. He quickly laid down beside you, your ass still in the air, and shushed you. “Too much?” San frowned.

You shook your head, your tears still falling. “Just overstimulated.”

“Good or bad?”

You laughed wetly. “Are you kidding me? That was amazing.”

You leaned in to kiss him, mewling when his lips felt sticky with his own release from eating you out. Without thinking, you grabbed onto his crotch, pleased to find that he was very much hard underneath your fingers.

It was all he needed to position himself behind you, his cock snug inside your wet heat once more. It was slow and easy this time - he didn’t want to overstimulate you further, but the truth was, the sight of you crying lit up a fire inside him that he didn’t know existed.

He rolled his hips roughly once just to see your reaction. Just as expected, more tears of overstimulation flew from your eyes. He felt his cock twitch, and before he knew it, he was ramming into you like an animal in heat.

“Look at me,” he demanded roughly, slapping your ass once to get your attention.

Your eyes were wet with tears, the mascara you were wearing running down your face. “Oh my fucking God,” San moaned, whined, ravaging you from behind so hard, your head had hit the headboard multiple times from the sheer force of his thrusts.

When he finished, you were expecting him to make you keep his cum inside you again for God-knows-how-long, but what you were not expecting was for him to go back down on you again before hovering over you.

“Open your mouth, love,” he coaxed, tapping your chin to get you to stay awake.  

He tilted his head down, his tongue already out before you knew it.Your breath hitched when you saw the obscene trail of semen spill from his tongue before drops of it fell straight into your mouth.

God, it was so sloppy. He smirked, mouth still opened up. Every second stretched out, drawn out like he wanted you to feel everything.

When it was over, you swallowed, throat burning. He pulled back, eyes dark. “You okay?” San asked, voice rough.

You nodded, barely sentient, and his smile told you he knew exactly what he’d done.

You’d like to believe your relationship with San was ordinary. Not in a bad way, you did feel like every couple out there. You loved each other dearly, you fought ferociously, and throughout all of those, you stuck with each other despite your very obvious flaws. 

But one thing you never thought you’d have to think about was how truly, utterly insatiable San was today. 

“Sannie, ngh,” you whined pathetically, your cunt squeezing his cock weakly.

He groaned, sighing, as he wrapped his arms around you tightly from behind. “Get some rest,” he said tiredly, voice rough with the need to sleep.

After that sloppy session of him eating his cum and making you eat it in return, he fucked you twice some more, an hour apart from each other. They were both slow and lazy, but both mind blowing, nonetheless.

Needless to say, your body felt like it’s been run through with a pick up truck. You were exhausted.

And San was, too, but clearly, that wasn’t enough to deter him. You were lying peacefully on the bed, just browsing through your phone while San showered. When he came out, he laid down next to you, inserting himself back inside you, his cock hard but unmoving.

“B-But how?” You blurted out, wrapping the blanket around your naked body, ignoring how full you currently felt down there.

“By being a good cock sleeve and letting you cockwarm me,” San replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was your body giving out on you from the strenuous activity of the continuous sex, or maybe it was how warm and safe you felt being in San’s arms, but by the grace of God, you were able to fall asleep, San’s cock still snug inside you while he, himself, snored away.

Luckily, he left you alone for a couple of hours. You woke up late in the afternoon when the sun was almost down, your entire body sore. You were saddened when you found that San wasn’t lying beside you - though if you were being completely honest, you just wanted to wake up stuffed full of cock.

“Dummy,” you giggled fondly, shaking your head as you read the note that he left on the nightstand, stating that he had ordered some food for you and left it in the kitchen.

You tried not to feel down as you got dressed and went down to eat. San had to leave to settle his company because when he enlists soon, the temporary ownership he was transferring to you was going to be a massive change, after all.

Luckily, you wouldn’t need too much time to adjust. You loved San so much that you took it upon yourself to learn the intricacies of his company, staying up late with him for so many nights to help him out even though you barely knew what you were doing.

He would never say it out loud, but the fondness in his eyes as he looked at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking told you enough. San was always more than happy to answer your every question.

But you knew why he was doing this. He had co-owners, seven of them, to be exact, who were his lifelong best friends. He could have chosen one of them to run the company while he was gone. They were more than competent and would be a more viable option than you’d ever be.

San didn’t give it to you because it made the most sense, he gave it to you because you made sense to him.

You closed your eyes, forgetting the kitchen that surrounded you and just focused on the sensation of San’s hands holding onto you, the ghost of his touch guarding your thoughts.

The thoughts he knew because he knew you like the back of his hands; he knew how your mind functioned and spiralled, especially if left alone for too long.

He hadn’t just trusted you with his empire, he was protecting you.

You could think clearer now that his cock wasn’t plugging your cunt and your mind. He didn’t want you to think too much, to slowly lose your sanity in his absence, to miss him too much while he was in the military, equally missing you. The biggest difference between you and him was that he knew how to set his emotions aside, you were only good at ignoring it.

He always pretended that he didn’t care, but he cared more than anyone you knew. Even when he rammed inside you roughly, you could see the emotions passing through his eyes. Fear. Love. Longing.

He didn’t need to say a lot of things, because you just knew. He thought you didn’t notice when he held onto you a little too tight, not willing to let you, and you understood - he was leaving, but he wasn’t letting go.

San was giving you a piece of himself to hold on to, because it was the only way he knew how to say those things he had a difficult time saying.

Don’t forget me. Stay busy. Stay whole. Be patient. Please wait.

You didn’t notice when the first tear slipped down your cheek, and then, you felt it - a thumb so gentle you barely felt it brush against your wettened cheeks.

San didn’t say anything, just kept wiping away the tears you didn’t know were still falling. His hand lingered at your cheek, his brow furrowed like your sadness physically pained him.

“H-Hey,” you tried to smile, but it ended up looking like a grimace. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just a little in my head. I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know you are.”

He held your face a moment longer than necessary. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on your lips and you could physically feel the change in his demeanor.

And then he looked away. Just for a beat. Like he was trying to reel something back in before it slipped. You were still in his shirt. Still sitting there, legs bare, hair tousled, tears drying on your skin.

He was trying - God, he was trying - to hold the line. You reached out, fingers curling lightly around his wrist. “You okay?”

That was the breaking point, because you weren’t supposed to ask him that. Not now. Not when you were the one crying. Not when he was the one leaving.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and looked back at you, and this time the control wasn’t just slipping - it was gone.

“I’m not,” he said hoarsely. “Not when you look at me like that.”

The revelation had you reeling, and your lips parted. It caught his attention, but he didn’t move, and neither did you. Instead, you clutched his shirt tighter.

“You’re crying, you’re vulnerable. I should, fuck, I should walk away right now.” he murmured, almost like he was reminding himself. “But I can’t.”

And then he kissed you. And when he pulled back just enough to speak, he whispered, “I wanted to give you space, but fuck, I want you too much.”

Because you were his. Because he was yours. And because twenty-four hours would never be enough. But he wasn’t going to touch you, not this time. Plus, his dick was spent.

He smiled, pulling you up by the arm. “Come,” he said. “I have work to do in the office, would you like to accompany me?”

Whatever you choose, he’d accept. He could have had you again, could’ve drowned in you  to forget both of your worries, but he can’t. He just wants you near, and maybe that meant even more to him.

It was how you found yourself curled against his arms as he typed on his laptop with one hand, his other arm wrapped around you possessively. You watched him for a while, curled under the blanket, the steady rhythm of his typing filling the room.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what almost happened. The way his resolve almost melted like you were the one in control of the situation. But you respected it when he pulled back. It was admirable really, you bet it was difficult. 

You tried to focus on something else. Anything else. But the air between you hadn’t cleared - it had just thickened. You bit your lips, a sudden thought passing through your head as you stared at San’s side profile. God, you thought, can this man get any more attractive?

Apparently, San can sense it, too. The growing tension, just laying still in the silence that enveloped the two of you. He couldn’t help but stare at the way the blanket would slide off of your shoulders when you shifted to get comfortable, the way you stretched and it would push your perky tits up on his arm.

He went back to typing, but his posture shifted. Straighter. Stiffer. Like he was holding something back with both hands.

You splayed a hand over San’s belly, skimming your fingers lower to trace random, abstract patterns over his taut skin out of sheer boredom. San bit his lip, resisting the urge to groan under your touch, a static buzz running up the column of his spine. 

You were about to lower your fingers to touch the waistband of his boxers when San’s hand stopped yours in a panic. “Don’t,” he manages to let out. “I’m really trying to hold out here, love, don’t fucking tempt me.”

You shrugged, not meaning to actually do what he thought he was doing. You moved your hand away sheepishly, but you did the worst thing you could ever possibly do at this moment - you looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes. Something in him just snapped.

Fuck it, he thought.

“S-San, I’m s-sorry,” you whined when he pulled your hair down with one hand while his other hand already began to work on his pants. You swallowed when he gripped his hard, leaking cock in his hand, stroking it. “Please, I’m so sore and tired—”

“Twenty-four hours, remember? You’ve got six more hours, tough it out,” San raised a brow. You whimpered when he gripped your hair harder. “Don’t worry,” he smirked. “I’m a little spent myself, however…”

Fuck, if his refusal to let you rest didn’t turn you on. You instantly felt your nether regions slick up with his words.

You sputtered when he began to lower your head, slapping the tip of his cock lewdly on your lips. “Open up,” he ordered.

You let the fat tip of his cock rest on the flat of your tongue, feeling your throat automatically open up for the intrusion  like it knows that its only job right now was to take San all the way in until your throat couldn’t take him anymore. You couldn’t help but groan softly, the familiar feeling of San’s girth, the musky scent of him, and just about everything made your head spin.

San lets out a husky moan as he squeezes the base of his shaft, fondling his balls a little as you adjust to his length. “Stay right there, love, I like this right now,” he groaned.

You hummed as San went back to typing immediately while your mouth just warmed his cock just right as you laid down on the couch. In a peculiar way, it felt sensual and intimate. You let your eyes flutter, focusing on nothing but the feeling of San’s cock lodged in your throat - the heat and the taste of it, especially.

Cockwarming your boyfriend while he worked was definitely one of the things you never really expected because when San works, he’s pretty much locked into it until he deems it otherwise. But here you were, curled up and feeling very cozy on San’s lap with his balls kissing your chin.

You lost track of time, letting out a muffled groan once in a while when you’d feel San adjust himself and, therefore, humping his cock deeper in your voice box by accident. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d thank your lucky stars that he’d trained your gag reflex a long, long time ago.

San didn’t stop working, and with the warmth of his body, the repeated clacking of the keyboard, and his steady breathing, it wrapped you like a lullaby. Before long, you felt your eyes closing. It reminded you of last night when he woke you up with him fucking you.

What you would give to experience that type of pleasure again. There was something about relinquishing all control to him that turned you on so much.

But you didn’t have to wait long. You groaned, disoriented, limbs heavy, mind still caught in that quiet fog between dreaming and waking. You were about to sit up, but suddenly, you felt a stabbing zing of pleasure down there that sent stars in your vision. “San! Oh—”

San lifts your legs up, leaning close to press your lips together for a sweet, sinful kiss. You swallow a whine when he eases on top of you, burying himself completely up to the hilt.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby, what are you doing to me?” San moans out, his thrusts so  agonizingly slow that you feel that familiar heat build up inside your lower belly. He tips his head into your neck. “Y/N,” he moans again, long and low.

“A-Ah, how long w-was I out?” You asked, your sleepy eyes gazing back at his lust-filled ones. “Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” you gasped, holding onto his arm for support. “I love you, San.”

“Love you too, baby,” he says, voice rough, smoothing a hand up and down your spine as he slowly fucks up into you. “Couple of hours. God, I’m gonna come.”

You try to rock back to meet each slow thrust, not wanting San to go faster so much as you want him deeper. “Please,” you whined.

He groans, spilling his seed deep into you for what you assumed was the last time for tonight. He puts all his weight onto you, careful not to crush you, heaving repeated breaths that he tried to catch before he gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

He pulls out, going down on you again, and for a second, you thought he was going to suck his own cum out again and give it to you. The very thought of it had you blushing madly up to your ears.

Imagine your surprise when you felt his fingers dig into you, instead. “W-What are you doing?”

He eyes you once, a small smirk painting his lips, groaning under his breath at the sight of his cum just pouring out of you. “I’m making room for more,” he flatly said, scooping his cum out of you with his fingers. 

It had you whining and squeezing against his fingers at how filthy and erotic the act of it was. He clicks his tongue, though, because no matter what he did, your pussy just kept gushing everything out. “Fuck, love, looks like you’ve finally reached your limit,” he laughed.

“Funny,” you deadpanned, trying to pretend that it didn’t turn you on.

It was probably midnight by now, no, you were pretty sure it was past midnight now. You stretched your arm - just now realizing you were in bed - to try and grab your phone from the nightstand to check the time, but you gasped when your arms were grabbed roughly.

“San?” You tilted your head in confusion, but all that did was make him pin your arms down to your sides. 

Your heart stilted in your chest. He didn’t say anything, but he had that animalistic look in his eyes. And then, it hits you. “San,” you gulped. “How long have you been fucking me in my sleep?”

He smirked, pinning your wrists with more added weight. “Does it matter?”

Now that you were thinking about it, your cunt felt abnormally sore. Your eyes fluttered shut when San thrusted sharply once into you in one go, fucking his cum back into with his cock.

And just when you thought it was impossible, San fucks you hard - he fucks you the hardest he’s ever fucked you in general. It had your shrill voice bouncing obnoxiously throughout the room along with the loud squelching of his previous cum.

“Take it, you whore, take my fucking cock,” he roared amidst your screams.

He gripped your hair in one hand and buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his noises. The tears and spit dampened his skin as you continued to take what he was giving you. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, all of his muscles coiling in preparation for the orgasm he knew was coming.

Your mind automatically went to your thoughts when you woke up today - the regret. You had definitely underestimated the way San took advantage of this deal you had going on, but that wasn’t what made you regret this.

Because you’d thought you had power when you made the offer. You’d thought it was your way of controlling the goodbye; of saying, fine. Take this. Remember me like this.

But he turned it inside out, and now, you were the one unraveling beneath him.

“God, I fucking love you,” he moaned out, marking your neck up with the abstract patterns of his lips. “You don’t know how much you mean to me.” 

And worst of all, he enjoyed it. Not just the act. Not just your body. He enjoyed seeing you like this. Honest. Shaken. Open in a way you never let yourself be.

“I l-love—San, God, p-please,” you stuttered, your tongue lolling out pathetically from your mouth.  The low, pleased hum in his throat when you tried to form words and failed spurred you on.

He was always so still, so unreadable until now. Now, he wasn’t stoic - he was focused. Just your body, your breath, and the way you whispered his name like it meant something, it was all he needed right now 

And for the first time, he let himself show it - how much he wanted you. How badly he’d miss you. How he’d burn down everything else, piece by piece, just to make these hours count.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you so deep, love,” his breathing was laboured, his hips stuttering into a rhythm without any dynamics in them. “Maybe you’ll still be dripping with my cum by the time I get discharged.”

That imagery was what sent you over the edge. The very thought of it in the back of your head already had you getting hot and bothered for the next time you’d see each other again.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure and he groaned loudly. He wished this could last forever, but he was genuinely spent now. What he wouldn't give to have you crying on his cock every day, giving you load after load of cum. The very thought made him tremble.

There were no more orgasms that you could give him, being spent from the entire day of just having his cock inside you, but you still fluttered weakly against his cock, squeezing and milking it for all its worth. It still felt so good on your end.

San didn’t move away nor did he let go. He wasn’t ready, and he also knew you weren’t ready either. You didn’t dare breathe or make a sound as you tried to level yourself back to your body. Not yet.

Not when his hands were on you like that. Not when he looked at you like this. Not when he touched you like you were the only thing he wasn’t willing to leave behind.

If tonight was all you had left, then you wanted to remember this. 

Against your will, your tears fell. All this was a distraction from the reality that you were going to be without San for two years straight and now that it was over, it was hitting you all at once.

He held you tighter when he felt your body shake and tremble and maybe, that’s what did it for him too.

Then he finally spoke, low and unsteady. “I hate this.”

You lifted your head, just enough to see his face. His eyes were locked somewhere across the room, like he couldn’t bear to look at you while he said it.

“I hate knowing you’re gonna be here and I won’t be,” he continued. “I hate that this is the only option I have because I’d have to go to the military anyway, so I’d rather do it now.”

Your heart was already breaking open again, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as you stared at him. He quickly wipes your tears, alarmed. He gets it, he was never one to let his feelings out.

Something tugged at you from your chest, and you needed to come clean to him. “What if you change your mind?” You asked quietly, your voice smaller than you meant it to be. “What if two years from now, after being away, you realize you never loved me?”

San went deathly still and you almost took the question back, but you had to say it. It was what has been bothering you the entire time. He didn’t answer, he just looked at you, steady and quiet.

“What if you go away, and two years from now, you realize you don’t love me the same way?” The words tumbled out like you’d been holding them in for too long. “That maybe this was just comfort?”

He didn’t flinch, but his heart squeezed tight in his chest, hurt that you would feel that way. It was what made him realize that just because he gave you his business doesn’t equate to security even though he trusted you with everything he had.

He glanced at the drawer again where he stored the gift he had bought for you yesterday, the one that he’d been casting discreet glances at, the one that reminded him of you so, so much.  He exhaled slowly, and without a word, he leaned over to open the drawer to finally take it out.

San pulls out a small box and your breath instantly catches. He turns back towards you, not meeting your eyes, and opens it gently with practiced calm, like he didn’t want to die with nervousness as his heart thudded against his ribs.

Your lips parted, but no words came.You stared at him, stunned, a fresh wave of tears welling up, but different. This time, it was with warmth.

The box sat there in his hand but with that quiet steadiness that you loved about him that he always carried with him, even when the world around him trembled.

“You want proof I won’t change my mind?” he said, voice low and steady. “This is it.”

You blinked, the sting of tears returning as your heart pressed harder against your ribs. You looked down at the ring. Then back at him.

He looked up at you, finally meeting your eyes. “I want to come back to you,” he said, the vulnerability in his eyes making your eyes sting with more tears. “I’ve been carrying this around for months. Never knew when was the right time. I guess there’s not really a perfect one.”

“You are my home, Y/N,” he smiled softly. "And I wouldn’t be leaving anything behind if I didn’t already decide that everything I want is right here.”

And suddenly, the fear inside you didn’t feel so loud anymore. You took the ring from his hand, sliding it onto your finger like it had always belonged there. You didn’t say yes - you didn’t have to.

His shoulders dropped the moment it was done. Not dramatically just a quiet, subtle release like he was breathing out for the first time in hours. Then, for once, his voice faltered. “Will you wait for me?” San asked, hesitant.

You leaned forward, touching your forehead to his. “Don’t ask me if I’ll wait for you like I’d ever do anything else.”

“I’ll come back to you,” he said. “No matter what happens. I swear to you, I’ll come back and marry you. I know I don’t say much, but I promise you that.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, because even though his voice was still calm, and his face didn’t show much, he was holding your hand like a man trying to memorize the feeling of home.

You wiped your face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Well, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever seen.”

His brow lifted. “You said yes. I gave you the business and a ring. What more do you want, fireworks?”

You smirked. “Maybe. A little.”

He groaned softly, pulling you into his chest. “I should’ve just eloped in silence.”

You grinned against him. “And miss all this romance?”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue with you because that’s how much he loved you. 

You laughed, and even though your chest still ached, even though goodbye was still coming. For now, you had this - San, a ring, and a future to look forward to. 

Dividers by : @sweetmelodygraphics Like my work? Click here to view my previous story.

[drdawnbreaker]

𝐒𝐡𝐡, 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 || 𝐑𝐄𝟒 𝐋.𝐊

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Summary: Imagine a vampire au with Leon, but in this case. He is the human, and you are the vampire. And you are very, very thirsty.

Word Count: 2.57k

Warnings: Blood. Making out. Pet names. Mention of cannon level of violence and death. Dry humping, pussy cupping. Forgive me

Notes: This is my first time writing Leon, so please be kind ahh. I tried my best, ahhh.. enjoy!! Also, i thought of RE4!Leon? But mixed with a bit of death... idfk at this point, hehe.

So you both work together, and you get along well with each other compared to the others in your units. And one day, Leon had been assigned to work a recon mission along with a small team. He hates teams. But when he found out you would be there, he felt slightly at ease. What he wasn't looking forward to was working with several of the other shitty men. When he walked onto the jet, all he heard were mutters of "Why is she here?" "Do we even need her?" "I heard she's only here cause of her hacking skill set"

If only they knew.

Yes, you were incredibly intelligent and good with computers, that's why the government liked to keep you around. But something not a lot of people know about, including Leon, is that you had two choices, join and serve or rot in a cell. Of course, you picked somewhat freedom.

Onto the mission at hand. To say, it went to shit was an understatement. You, Leon, and the others were trapped in a church somewhere off the track you needed to follow. There was a swarm of ghoulish creatures. Someone must have tipped your opponents off.

It had been almost 3 hours when you started to feel it... the hunger. You had packed blood shots for this exact situation, but alas, your pack was lost when you found yourself running away from a pack of clickers. The dryness in your throat, the over-sensitivity of hearing. Even the sun that was shining through the high windows began to sting your eyes.

You needed a drink.

But none of the men here knew, nor did you want to reveal such a big part of your life to some random soldier who only wanted to get into your pants.

What about Leon?... no. You couldn't ask him. Not when he got so much on his plate as it is. Your gaze caught Leon sitting on a few old boxes, staring out the window aimlessly. He is a good man, strong, caring, and plus he was understanding. He never held anything against you. If you needed to slip out for a moment, he never asked why. He wouldn't judge you... you hoped. "Uh..Hey Leon.."

Your voice sounded so small, not to mention the cracks hidden beneath it as you held yourself from jumping him. You could hear his blood move in his veins, going straight for his heart. Fuck.. You needed a drink now before you lost control. Worry began to seep through your being at the thought of losing yourself for a moment in front of any of the men in this room. None of them would think twice about putting a bullet in your head. Heck, you think they’d probably enjoy it. Take one for the team and all that bullcrap.

“Uh..L-Leon.” Fuck, why did you sound so small. “C-could I talk to you for a second…Alone.”

Leon’s stoic face quickly snapped to one of concern, knowing you weren't the type to ask for anything. “Y-yeah sure, doll. Are you okay?”

God, if he called you doll again, you might just lose it.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. I just need a favour.” Guiding Leon to one of the back rooms where you know none of the others would venture, you felt your hands start to shake from the mixture of hunger and anxiousness… this was a mistake. You thought, pacing the room. Leon could see the way your body was fighting for something, or against something maybe? Whatever it was, it made his instincts react highly. Grabbing your upper arm, he gently tugs you so your whole body could face him before he gently cups your chin so you could look at him.

“What's the matter? Talk to me?” Leon’s first thought was you might have been bitten, but then you would have shown symptoms by now and turned within the first hour, so it wasn’t that. Maybe you're catching a cold? Or a slow-acting virus could have gotten you. Whatever it could be he was ready to help in any way he could. “What do you need, love?”

“You can’t freak out. Okay..” That was the first time in this whole situation that you spoke without stumbling over your words. Everything just got real, really quickly. “There was a reason why the government kept me around. There was an agreement on my behave…I either serve this country or die…”

“Why are you telling me this?” Leon wouldn't lie and say he wasn't curious as to how you got into where you were today, but he wouldn't have thought you were forced. Not by a long shot. You always carried yourself as if you somewhat enjoyed this job. Saving people, killing monsters. You did it with flying colours. It was your calling…isn't it?

“I lost my pack and they had my vials in it….” You gulped before looking up at Leon, staring into his soft, lost eyes. “They were my food… without them I have to drink from a main source.”

Main source? Vials? What on earth are you talking about? Leon’s grip didn't falter as he asked, “What were they?”

Closing your eyes for a moment you took in a deep breath, trying to calm your shaking nerves. Okay, do or die here. He either is completely chill or…. You didn't want to think of the latter. “Please… don’t be mad.” You opened your eyes, revealing the dark pools of crimson that you normally tuck away. Feeling your monstrous half front, causing your senses to heighten more, letting you not only hear Leon's blood pumping inside of him, but smell it too.

“Woah…” Leon muttered, but yet he didn't move. His hands kept where they were and his gaze never shifted. He watched the different shapes of red dance in your eyes and it was then he understood what was going on, what you were. He’s never run into vampires before, but he’s knowledged about them. On one half, you have the rogue vampires,━ghoulish creatures that have no humanity whatsoever━, and then you have the humanist versions. A kind of half and half. He never would have expected you to be one… but then again. “This explains so much.”

“What?”

“I mean... You always only need a couple of hours of sleep. I’ve never seen you eat food other than quick protein bars and you took down Chris one time in the training ring. He’s still trying to figure out how you got the upper hand on him but you..being.uh.. This. no wonder.” Leon spat out word vomit before he could even notice what he was doing, basically confessing that he watches you…all the time. You couldn’t help but laugh;

“He was already cheating…” Your eyes squinted as you gave Leon a toothy smile, making Leon look down at your little k9s. He feels slightly guilty now, he should have picked up on it, should have noticed you were different. He would have helped you sooner, kept an eye on you more closely just in case you ever needed it. You cleared your throat, making the soldier shake out of his deep thoughts; he noticed you were now looking down at the floor, picking at your short, broken nails. “So..y-you’ll help me.”

Leon was so caught up in the newfound knowledge he almost forgot why you even told him in the first place. “Oh..yeah, I’ll help. Whatever you need. I’m here.”

It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders just from his softly spoken words. No further words were spoken as Leon gently retched to cup your cheek, an expression of curiosity and calmness painting his handsome features. He guided you to the floor behind a couple of crates and other shelving and boxes so if someone were to come through the door at least you both would be covered to give you enough time to clean up.

The room felt like it was silent except for the sound of your shaky breath and Leon's heavy breathing pooling out of his nose. With his legs spread his lap was inviting as you settled onto him without as much of a peep from either of you. This was intimate, way too close for two friends; heck, you didn't even know if you deserved to be called friends. You only saw each other on the job. Would he think of you only as a mere college? Someone he's just helping out with a favour? But yet the way his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to his heaving chest, said otherwise. It was like Leon was trying his best to reassure you through his movements, letting you know you were safe with him.

“Where do you want it?” His voice was deeper than normal. It caught you off guard as you couldn't help but look at him with confusion. So Leon repeated, correcting himself slightly, “Where do you want to bite me, Doll?”

His tone was calm yet laced with anticipation. You gulped, whispering in a reply, “W-where do you want it…Leon?” You don't know why exactly but it felt right to let him decide where you drank blood from. You already felt bad for asking, so this was, in a way, letting him know you wanted him to take the lead. That he was the one with all the power, not you. He didn’t answer with words, as you expected… He instead moved to the buttons of his shirt, slowly unfastening them one by one, exposing his neck in silent invitation. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thickening with unspoken tension. His skin was so soft, silky, your fangs could easily pierce the delicate flesh…“A-are you sure…”

You needed to ask him, almost pleading with him to reassure you. It was one thing confessing a crush to someone or exposing some weird secret you might have had as a kid… but this was you, exposing the biggest part of yourself and asking for help. His hand gently came up to your head, patting you with so much care it made a lump form in your throat, “It’s okay Sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere until you’ve had what you need.”

Your fangs grazed his skin shakily as your breath pooled on his hot skin. You could feel his pulse throb, and blood pump faster. He was… excited? Why would he be showing signs of excitement in this kind of scenario… “Leon..”

You didn’t know if you were saying his name for a warning, a question or a plea but Leon’s firm grip never faltered as he dragged you closer until your chest was flushed against his. “Shh, drink baby.”

Leon let out a deep groan followed by a broken gasp as your sharp fangs sunk deep into his flesh. The pain was almost immediate but what followed next caught him off guard. “Fuck, ngh.”

Leon knew some myths that vampires had special abilities, including a venom that could help ease the pain when drinking from someone. In this case, it can create a sort of pleasurable barrier, and he was now certain this was true as a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins straight to his cock. His hehazyl back against the wall, his eyes closing as he savoured the indescribable sensation. Your lips were like clouds against his skin while your tongue was squishy, lapping gently against the small entry wounds, soothing it even as you drew blood from him. Blood richer than any you’ve ever tasted. You’ve almost forgotten how pure blood tastes, having drank diluted packed and almost stale blood for so long. You couldn’t help but moan as you swallowed each gulp, saLeon'sng Leon’s flavour.

Before either of you could process what was happening, your body began to move, your hips grinding against his clothed core, making Leon’s hands instinctively move from your waist to now grip your hips, hard. Guiding you as you humped against him. Your rhythm is frantic and desperate as you drank him in, in more ways than one. The taste of his blood was so intoxicating, and you were slowly losing yourself in the sensation, your senses overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth of his body. Your moans grew louder even though they were muffled, movements became more urgent, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pa ressed yourse.lf closer, seeking friction, seeking release.

“F-fuck baby, if you keep d. Otherwise,’m gonna..” Leon didn't finish his sentence as a sweet moan slipped from his lips into your ear. His cock hardened beneath you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he fought to keep control. “S-slow down.”

You wanted to listen but you couldn’t. The combination of his blood and the feeling of his body against yours was too much, too overwhelming. You needed to pull away, stop before you drank him dry. So with much force, you yanked yourself abruptly, your fangs sliding free of his skin, letting blood drip from your lips and down your neck. Your chest heaved as you panted, your eyes wild, glowing as he stared up at you through hazily eyes. “I-I’m s━.”

But before you could say anything, Leo,n stood, lifting you with him with litlazy no effort. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he pressed you against a nearby wall. “Don’t ever fucking apologise.”

His lips crashed down on yours, his tongue demanding entrance, tasting the coppery sweetness of his own blood on your tongue. Your hands flew for his hair, tangling them in the strands, tugging. Small whimpers were swallowed by Leons dominating tongue, as he moved his hands down, tracing your curves frantically before finally slipping along the waist of your belt. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Leon’s hot breath tickled your face as he pulled back, your eyes gazing down to watch him easily pop your pants open. You were already soaking wet, your cunt throbbing with need, and Leon could tell you were just as excited as him. His fingers slipped in, getting dangerously close to your clit but before you would feel the sweet release of his touch;

“Leon I nee━Kennedy, L/n. we’re rolling out.” A loud call alerted both of you, the man's voice laced with frustration. You felt slight relief Leon had pushed you up against the wall where all the storage boxes were, otherwise the young private would have seen you not only in a very compromising position but with Leon’s blood sweetly drying on your neck and chest.

“Be there in a minute, start packing up the gear.” Leon’s voice was laced with authority but his glasses over eyes never left your own, nor did he make an effort to move you off the wall. The other man muttered something before walking out leaving you both in silence once again. But prior to you trying to graze off the slightly awkward situation, Leon's hand slid all the way down past your panties until he cupped your pussy. “The minute we’re alone. I’m gonna ruin this cunt while you take another bite from me. How’s that sound Doll?”

You felt your head spin and all you managed to get out was a lazily nod before whimpering, “Yes…”

–

Not proofread, so if you saw any errors.. no, you didn't.

[no1blacksapphirefan]

Woah I have a request!!

Golden cheese x child reader (platonic)!!

basically yknow how golden cheese’s kingdom was destroyed and everyone died?

imagine if reader was the only survivor, barely hanging on but still alive… and reader was just a scared child who was an inhabitant of the once thriving kingdom

how would golden cheese react upon first seeing them?

I love platonic stuff <33 and this is such a nice idea to think about. Here’s you go ^^

CW: Mentions of injuries + blood but not much

She thought she had lost everything, she swears she lost everything. She didn't know what her destination was as she was taking a walk, but she just needed time to think, think about what could've been and what's been lost. She was snapped out of her thoughts when she had whimpers of pain. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

You were always a bright child, you seemed to look up to her and she didn't mind. You always seemed to follow her around if you were able too and at first she thought she could sense you following once again but she knew...no she thought you were gone too, but hearing that sound. It had to be you.

She quickly finds out where it was from, her panic growing seeing how injured you were. Witches, how long has it been since you've been like this? She shouldn't dwell on it right now, she has too- needs to help you. She's quick to grab you, yet her touch was still gentle, she couldn't let you get injured more and quickly went to find a healer.

Her hands tried to cover any places where you seemed to have been bleeding the most and when she finally found a doctor, she was worried if she was too late. She quickly handled you over and paced back and forth as she awaited the news. And thank the witches you were okay, the doctor couldn't say much more as soon as the words left their mouth as she ran in to check on you. You were resting...but you were fine...you were injured...but...you were here...you're actually here.

She had thought everyone in her kingdom had gone, disappeared only to be a memory to her but seeing you still alive. You don't know how glad she is, despite the fact she carried you here and the doctors took quick note of your injured body. She gently took your hand as you rested (You seemed to be asleep) as if to convince herself you really were here.

Once you got better, she didn't want to say what happened, but something about how you looked told her she didn't need to say much. You may be young but what happened wasn't something to mistake for sunshine and rainbows. You knew something bad happened but...still, she wanted to preserve the your happiness and spare you certain news.

She practically adopted you after that. And she was a bit protective...she didn't want you to get hurt again. She didn't want to be overbearing in any means so she did attempt to give you space. Especially as you grew, but the fear of loosing you also grew. Hence, when you were able to hold a weapon properly and safely, she was quick to teach you self defense.

Outside of that, she wanted to give you a good childhood, you were almost stripped away of an amazing childhood due to what happened. It was only you and her left from the kingdom, so she wanted to make sure you were still happy, smiling and giggling. She gave in to most things you wanted, knowing when to put her foot down and gently told you why you couldn't have a certain thing.

When Burning Spice comes along, she's quick to ask someone to look after you. It doesn't matter how old you are. She does not want you involved, especially when you could get hurt. She makes a promise to you that she'll come back and when she does she'll take you out to your favourite place. With a small pat on the head she goes off to deal with him.

When she does come back, she's quick to hug you and show you that she's fine. She cares so much about you, not only are you the last of the people alive, but you're her kid now. And she cares for you so deeply. She doesn't know what she'd do if someone ever laid a hand on you.

[proceduralpassion]

Starting off with the angst. Sol made me want to cry. Her missing Roman was so palpable. I'm so glad she had so many people there to support here and keep her out of her funk as much as possible, especially her grandmother.

Roman reuniting with his first kid (Dulce)!

I think Roman and Paloma is going to be such an interesting dynamic to explore, especially after Fetu's passing. Absolutely nothing and no one is filling that void but it'll be good to see them build a bond over the person they love and care about the most.

Roman being nervous to see his wife for the first time after six weeks.

Standing By The Ocean. We love a title reference! The imagery is so beautiful by the way, I can just see this scene in my head.

“I don’t think I could ever not want to be close to you, pretty girl.” My knees would give out.

Ugh their reunion was everything I needed and more. I was already basking in all the emotions with them just holding each other but then the girls making their presence known?? Omg they really waiting on their daddy.

Roman following along with the twins' growth on the app. That's such a sweet little detail but also angsty bc I can just imagine him looking through it constantly and missing all three of his girls.

Roman making sure the house was decorated for Christmas even though he's not big on holidays. My babies!

Them both spoiling Dulce with gifts is sending me lmao..

Artsy Solana coming through with these sweet, sentimental gifts PLS. Omg this is all so domestic and everything they deserved.

Shed real life tears over that proposal scene. I would not have been able to breathe omg.

Ahhh Casa de Reigns coming soon! Roman is gonna make sure that house everything they need so they neve have to leave (his preference). Def looking forward to seeing the progress of their forever home coming to fruition.

I'm glad that Solana, Brandi, and Emma all got to have their moment to decompress a little after everything that happened and I hope that Brandi is able to take Solana up on her offer for processing everything that happened to her :( Also BIG Solana, not the little one! She ATE that interaction with Cody up like a boss! I love how we've already seen her come into her own as such a protective figure, not only for Roman, but as an expecting mother as well.

The New Year's Eve scenes were FLAWLESS omg. Jimmy and Naomi's absence was definitely felt which sucked but I love that Solana and Roman have so much family now, people they can depend on and trust. They both deserve it, especially as we move into navigating Roman and Matteo's fuck ass mama and whatever she wants from them.

That ending scene in particular had me ready to cry bc Solana truly has done a 180. Like she really got her happy ending with a loving, devoted husband who loves her unconditionally and wants nothing but the very best for her. She has friends, family, a lovely home, and about to enter the exciting chapter of motherhood! Her glow up has been astounding and I've never been happier for a fictional character!

looking through your eyes + thirty eight | part two

authors note: see at end of chapter.

warnings: fluff and angst

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

chapter song inspo: 'that's the way it is' by celine dion

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 16k

Daytime is easier, nighttime is trickier, but bedtime is when it all comes to a head.

When Solana removes the decorative pillows and pulls back the covers. When she lifts Dulce and places her fur baby on the same bed that she climbs into shortly after. When Solana adjusts the blankets and shifts onto her side, her hand planted on her growing baby bump. And, she closes her eyes, prepared to sleep. That's when it hits her.

The light is still on.

The light is still on.

The light that Roman always shuts off for them before he climbs into bed with her, gently tugging her close and into him. His strong arm securely wrapped around her as he kisses her temple and tells her he loves her.

But, none of that happens.

It doesn't happen, because he's not here.

The light is still on.

That's when the tears come. When Solana does her best to soothe herself, sometimes grabbing her phone and looking at pictures of them. Even reaching for one of his shirts, swapping out her gown for something that holds her husband's masculine scent.

It doesn't work.

Not usually.

If anything, it makes things worse.

Reminds her that once again, he's not here.

The light is still on.

-------

She spends her days as best she can. Rarely, if ever, alone. Paloma makes sure of that. If it’s not her abuela forcing her to leave the bed and come sit in the living room as they quietly watch TV, it’s Afia and the children coming over to keep her company. It’s Bayley coming in the room with her as the two sit and talk, discussions about what will be like when this all passes, and they can return home. Aurora is brought over by her mom, usually, Solana able to spend a few hours with the little girl, mentoring and just interacting with her.

Solana appreciates it. She does. It helps her to not be too into her head, but at the end of the day, it all still falls short. There’s not an hour that passes that she doesn’t think of her husband. 

That she doesn’t wonder about what Roman’s doing. How he’s doing. What his recovery is looking like. If he’s taking care of himself like he said he would. 

If he’s being safe. 

There are tears. Most definitely, there are tears. And, those are largely brought on and up when she looks down at her baby bump. As she watches it grow, the roundness of her stomach seemingly expanding week by week. As she follows along with the app. And especially when she attends her checkup appointment. Her abuela is there with her, but Roman isn’t. 

And, the lack of him is devastating. In all aspects.

She misses him. She just really fucking misses him, and as amazing as her family and support system have been, it still doesn’t take away from the fact that she feels lonely. There’s a void his absence causes that can’t and won’t be filled by anything other than their reunion. 

Solana does her best not to think of how much time passes. It only makes things worse. 

She tries to think of life after this chapter. Of a life when and where she can focus primarily on the upcoming birth of her daughters. Of what changes motherhood and parenthood will bring about for the both of them. Of the happiness that will bring. 

But, there are also those heavy, inescapable moments where she can’t help but think and dwell on what got them here. The betrayal. The lies. The loss. 

So many things have changed, and not for the better. She thinks of Jey, a perfect mixture of anger and sympathy for the man she once considered a brother. Same as her husband did. 

She’s hurt and angered by his betrayal, but she also feels for him having lost his wife, the mother of his children. His children who now have to grow up as she did, without the love and presence of their mother. 

Solana didn’t know Nicki well, and while the few interactions they had were….interesting, to say the least, she was still a person. A mother and a wife. Solana doesn’t know how much “love” was present between Jey and Nicki, but she firmly believes Nicki loved her children. And, her children loved her back.

And, it was for them, for the children, that Solana pleaded with her husband. 

She doesn’t hate Jey, but his role in the coup is not something she can easily move past. She won’t, because while she does believe he did not know the full extent, he knew something. He was still in agreement with turning against her husband, and that is enough for her. 

But, his children, for all their misbehavior, are innocent. To grow up motherless is one thing, but to grow up motherless and fatherless seems inconceivable. And, truly, Solana considered Roman when making her decision to ask him to spare Jey's life.

She considered what being orphaned, essentially, was like for Roman. It impacted him in so many ways, few of a positive nature, so much so that it made her feel like she had no choice but to ask her husband not to kill him.

Truth be told, she’s not sure if Roman will honor her request. She can only hope and pray that he does.

Then, there’s Jimmy and Naomi.

Solana holds no contempt towards them. Not really. Roman told her about his conversation with his other cousin. How Jimmy disclosed there was always some sort of discontentment from Rikishi towards Roman, and she understands why this bothers him. Why it upset him.

However, she’s not prepared to lump him in the same category as his traitorous brother. Naomi, either.

To Solana, the only thing they’re guilty of is naivety. And, more Jimmy than Naomi, because Solana still, even after everything, believes that Naomi was valid with her feelings expressed during the girls trip. Her delivery of said issues was just what Solana had problems with. Along with the fact that she hadn’t said something sooner.

And now that conversation, the necessary one that needed to happen before everything went down, that still needs to happen, remains in limbo. Because, right now, from Solana’s understanding, Roman wants nothing to do with Jimmy. She doesn’t necessarily feel the same, but it’s also not her place to tell him how to handle this. 

Right or wrong, it’s how he feels, and she respects that. She will respect it.

Granted, it leaves her feeling a bit stuck regarding how she’s supposed to navigate her relationship with Naomi moving forward. Is there still one? Can there still be one where she respects the wishes of her husband while not destroying the sisterhood she built up with the woman she really did—does—consider a sister?

Solana honestly doesn’t know.

There’s truly so much up in the air, so many things to sort through and figure out. But, at the end of the day, the number one priority is remaining healthy for her babies. She can only think of and focus on so many things at a time, and her immediate family comes first. 

Her immediate family being her babies, Dulce included, and her husband. 

Everything has to work itself out at some point.

She believes that. She has to. 

She has nothing else to believe in.

—-------

6 weeks. 

6 weeks in total that passed without any contact, any sort of interaction between Roman and his wife.

Six weeks that felt infinitely longer. As busy as he was during the time, settling all the wrongs, it never escaped him. The fact that he was alone.

He had his brother, had his two cousins, but he didn't have his wife of their dog, and the presence of close relatives didn't make up for that deficit. Not as much as he thought, or maybe hoping, it would.

Nevertheless, Roman did his best to keep himself busy. He worked and then worked some more. Killed. Killed a lot more. Thought….he thought a lot more than he worked and killed, probably.

Sessions with Lita helped, but they didn’t help enough.

Then….that.

Roman couldn’t allow himself to think of that.

His mother and grandfather a thing, even with all his pride, Roman knew he needed Solana to help him with. To sort through.

That it’s not something he could or perhaps even can handle on his own.

Hence why that shit’s been put on the backburner. 

Especially now.

Now that it's time.

Time to bring Solana home.

Roman’s return is something that was kept on a need to know basis. It’s not that he wanted to surprise Solana. They were way past that shit. He just didn’t want anyone to inform her, and some shit happened, hindering his return. Delaying it. No, he wanted to be 100% certain nothing could get in the way of him finally being reunited with his wife. 

Especially as his return falls on the day before Christmas Eve. Ideal timing. Not preferred, but ideal. He knew how upset she was about them missing their first Thanksgiving together, and while he’s never been big on holidays, he respects that that’s something important to her.

So, being able to bring her home just in time for Christmas is at least something. 

He arrives in the evening, as per Paloma’s suggestion. Makes his way through the back of the house. Also Paloma’s suggestion. 

She’d let him in, Roman a bit unsure of just how to interact with her. He thanked her, for certain, though something told him that it was unnecessary. That she was eager to spend as much time with her granddaughter just as much as Solana wanted to spend time with her.

Still, the circumstances were not ideal. For certain.

Left alone, Roman looks around the home, as if trying to see if anything has changed but also taking it all in. There's something welcoming and homely about the aroma of the food marinating in the kitchen, the sound of the TV at a low volume that serves as background noise of sorts. The windows that are partially open, allowing a nice breeze and the sounds of nature to filter throughout the abode.

Home.

It feels like home.

The sound of a single bark redirects Roman's focus as the smallest smile falls on his face.

He's moving to his knees at the same time Dulce makes a beeline for him, jumping in his arms, whimpering and trying to lick him.

Roman chuckles, petting her while standing up and still holding her. "I've missed you, too, girl." Because he has. As much as Solana is his wife, is his family, so is Dulce. The first addition to their growing family, if he's being honest with himself.

Paloma walks out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, smiling as she watches Dulce continue to wiggle around, overcome with excitement at her dad being home. "Well, I certainly see why that one is so spoiled."

Roman glances over at the older woman, offering no protest. He can also admit that Dulce pretty much gets whatever she wants, within reason.

He does wonder how that might change, if it will change, once the girls are born.

It's a thought that dims his prior smile, slows down his interactions with the still excited puppy. "How….how was she?"

Paloma lifts her chin. Something tells Roman she knows he's not referring to Dulce.

"She's missed you. A lot." He swallows. "But, all things considered, she's done well. We kept her busy, wouldn't let her sulk when she wanted to, gave her space when she needed it."

Space.

That's probably the one word Roman never wants used in regards to any aspect of his marriage ever again in life.

They've had enough space to last them a fucking lifetime.

Paloma claps the remnants of crumbs from her hands and walks over to him. Roman allows her to take Dulce, ensuring she's holding her properly.

"Go." Paloma nods toward the backdoor. "She's out by the ocean." Roman's expression must give away his curiosity, as she smiles softly. "Some of us believe water to be sacred, some say it holds memories, others say it represents life and fertility." Her grin is solemn, bittersweet. "I think it made her feel closer to you."

Roman, once again, has nothing to say in response. Is sitting on the words that are covered and too enmeshed with all the emotions he's feeling. That he refuses to show but feels nonetheless.

"Go," Paloma repeats herself, stepping back while gently caressing Dulce's head. "I think you've both waited long enough, don't you?"

Very fucking much so.

He gives Dulce a final pet on her head before nodding at Paloma. "Thank you."

For it all.

She says nothing, talking to Dulce in Spanish as she heads back in the kitchen and him out the backdoor. There's a strange, unfamiliar, weird as fuck sensation that climbs up his legs and settles into his stomach as Roman makes his way through the backyard, leading to the beach.

Nerves.

It feels like nervousness, but he hasn't the slightest clue as to why when he literally never gets nervous. Ever. Also, why the hell would he be nervous to see his wife? This is Solana. What reason does he have to be nervous about seeing her?

It's small, a glint of a thing, but it comes to him, Roman gradually realizing his nervousness comes from the fact that he's unsure how she feels. How she feels about how long they've been separated. How long he left her.

Longer than either of them would have liked, but shorter than what either feared.

He wonders….he wonders if she'll be upset with him, and that's always been something he's struggled with. He doesn't like upsetting her. Never has. But, he also knows this separation was completely beyond his control. Necessary. It was necessary for Roman to clean up the mess back home before she could return. To eliminate all potential threats.

And, that's exactly what he's done.

He just hopes she understands.

Roman manages to quietly but brusquely wave away the guards that patrol the same beach he walked on over a month ago. It feels like a lifetime. Like a millennia that he's been gone, and he's hated every fucking second of it.

Scowling at a guard who takes too damn long for his liking to leave, Roman readies to verbally accost them when he sees it.

Sees her.

Maybe a good ten to twelve feet away, she's exactly where her grandmother said she would be.

Standing by the Ocean.

Roman stills, completely overcome with all the things.

Standing, facing the water, she plays with something in her hand, her gaze focused on the waves in front of her while he focuses on something else entirely.

The fall of her long, sleeveless white dress against her stomach. Against her baby bump that's significantly more prominent than the last time he saw her. When he left, Solana could still, with the right clothes, conceal her bump. But now, he's almost certain there's no concealing that. No hiding that she's in fact pregnant, that a child grows in her womb.

Two.

He swallows, watching as she tosses whatever was in her hand into the water. Watches how she lowers her hand to her stomach, rubbing and smiling sadly. Watches as she turns to continue walking among the sand, water slapping against the bottom of her dress.

It's only then he realizes the distance happening between that.

The last thing he wants.

No more.

He's careful in his movements, long legs allowing him to close said distance with a minimal amount of time. He does his best, however, to not alarm or scare her. To keep his presence a secret, of sorts.

And, then she stops. Stops walking.

So does he.

Roman sees her head tip down, hears her quiet, soft chuckle. "You know…." His stomach twists. It's been too long since he's heard her voice. "You don't have to stay so close to me."

The smallest hint of a smile as he shoves back all those damn emotions. "I don't think I could ever not want to be close to you, pretty girl."

A gasp. A small shout even. The way her body snaps around feels almost impossibly and inhumanly too fast.

But, she does.

She does.

Solana is staring at him, mouth ajar, eyes widen, face filled with all the shock. She doesn't move. Doesn't say anything, not at first, anyway.

"Roman…"

And, that breathy, emotion filled address is followed by her gathering up the bottom of her dress and closing that damn distance between them.

Her arms are around him, holding on tighter than she's ever held him. The same way his are wrapped around her waist, her baby bump between them nothing but an additive. An inclusion into this heartwarming reunion.

"You're here," she cries into him. Her fingers grasp at the hair on the back of his neck, her body trembling against him as she sobs. "You're here…"

His eyes shut. "I'm here," he repeats, kissing her temple. He doesn't let her go. Not once. Not fucking once.

Solana holds on and clings to him, murmuring, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Roman sighs, reciprocating the exact same thing, because he’s felt the exact same thing. 

And, he tells her as such. “I’ve missed you, too, Sol.” Deeply. In all of the ways. And thinking of it, thinking of how lonely he’s felt without her soothing presence, brings up those emotions. Emotions he does his best to keep at bay. This isn’t about him. It’s about her.

But, Solana is perceptive. She knows him better than he knows himself, sometimes, it feels like. 

So, when she pulls away to look up at him, he sees it. Sees the way her gaze shifts, how she transitions from being overwhelmed with feelings of everything and above. Slides into something of concern.

She grasps his face, voice quiet but audible. "What's wrong?"

A lot of things. More than he'd like to admit, and in a weird turn of events, it has nothing to do with the reason she's had to remain in Mexico.

And everything to do with the woman he wishes would have never reappeared in his life.

Would have stayed dead.

But, that's for then. Roman mentally nor emotionally feels like discussing that. Not right now.

He wants to enjoy this.

Enjoy her.

So, he settles for a truth for her ears and her ears only.

Roman licks his bottom lip, voice quiet and vulnerable. "I've needed you…"

He sees the moment her shoulders drop, a heavy, heartfelt sigh leaving her mouth. "Mi amor….." Solana blinks, shaking her head. "Come here…." Solana pulls him back into a hug, except, this time, it feels less for her. More for him.

Because, it is for him.

She's comforting him.

Solana kisses his temple, sliding her fingers up, gently massaging his scalp. "I'm here now." He sighs against and into her. "It's okay." She's with him. He's not alone anymore, and as long as there's breath in her body, he'll never be alone again. She goes to reassure him again when a sensation causes her to still. A movement. In her stomach.

Solana jerks back, mouth slightly ajar, hands on her belly as she looks down.

Naturally, Roman's entire disposition shifts. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't say anything. She can't. She's waiting for—again.

She feels it again.

Undeniable, this time.

Emotion climbing all over once more, she murmurs, "oh my God...."

"Solana, what's wrong?" He repeats himself, the concern growing as he moves closer to her.

Shaking her head, she reaches for his hands, laying them on her stomach. She looks up, eyes still watery, and a smile weighed down with that emotion. "Feel."

Roman, however, remains equally confused as he is concerned. "Solana, what—"

Silence.

Movement.

His expression shifts once more. Less concerned. Fully taken back. "Is that—"

"It is." She nods, sniffling and explaining. "I—I was starting to get concerned, because I hadn't…I hadn't felt them at all, and I should have at this point in the pregnancy, but I think—" She reaches a hand to cup his bearded face, voice cracking. "I think they were just waiting for daddy to come back."

His eyes lock with hers, filled with all the sincerity and vulnerability. Love. Filled with love.

They're kicking. His daughters. For the first time, for the both of them, Roman and Solana can more than just see them. They can feel them.

It's something one can't truly nor accurately describe. Just an insane amount of joy and delight.

Happiness.

Solana takes her other hand and rests it atop his that hasn't left her stomach.

"Let's go home, mi amor."

—--------

It doesn't take long for the family of three to leave. Solana had wondered why so many people had been over at the house yesterday. Why it felt like they'd lingered a bit longer than usual, even with it being an early Christmas "party." She'd felt like something was off but had pushed it to the side, chalking it up to her emotions being muddy due to Roman's absence and her pregnancy.

But, now, now she knows it's because Roman had informed her abuela and the appropriate parties that he'd be coming for her, and abuela sought to make sure everyone had time to see her and say "goodbye," so that they could leave shortly after he arrived.

Which is exactly what happened. Solana's longest goodbye was with her grandmother, as was expected. It was not without the promise for Paloma to come to the states and stay with her and Roman during the last month of Solana's pregnancy to ensure she didn't miss the birth.

An easy thing for the older woman to agree to.

The best thing for Solana.

But, what's not best nor preferred and definitely not liked is the quietness of her husband. Not that Roman is ever one for many words, in the first place. But, it's the fact that she knows there's a reason behind his quietness that bothers her. It bothers her to know there's something wrong with him, and he's not saying anything.

They lay in bed together on his private jet carrying them back to a home she's been dying to see for over a month now.

It's felt so much longer than that.

So much longer.

Her fingers caress his scalp as he lays besides her, body slightly hovered over hers as he continues to rub her stomach. "I can't….I can't believe how…how much you've grown."

"You mean how big I've gotten?" She teases in a soft voice and with a small smile. He looks up with a tiny glare. She sighs, eyes falling to her stomach. "I'll be five months next week…."

He knows. She's sure he knows, and he confirms as such. "I know. I….I was following along in that app you showed me."

Her chest tightens just a bit.

So was she.

"Ro…." He's once again forced to redirect his focus from her bare belly to her concerned gaze. "Talk to me." Something flashes in his eyes, prompting her to whisper, "what happened?"

It's strange how just the gleam of something in his warm eyes say so much without saying anything. She studies the way he shifts, watches how he moves to sit up next to her. She turns and angles her body as much as she can, holding onto his arm. "Rom—"

"My mother is still alive."

One blink. Two. Three.

A what that rests on the tip of her tongue. That small part of her, though unlike his character, waiting for the joke. For the confirmation that he isn't being serious.

But, it never comes. He just continues to look down, hand on her thigh, moving up in down in calming motions.

Solana sits up, eyes slightly widened. "Wh—what?"

Roman's jaw twitches. "She's—she's alive." He turns to look at her. "She's been alive. All this fucking time."

There's a continued, lingering disbelief. One that has her with so many questions, mainly, a big, massive how. Though Roman hadn't gone into explicit specifics, the way his family was killed, she'd just assumed…

How?

Disbelief paints her face. "How—how did you find out—"

"I saw her."

Silence. "You did?"

He nods, still not looking at her, focused on the edge of the bed where Dulce sleeps peacefully, oblivious to the heavy conversation transpiring. "She—she showed up at my office. Her and….and my grandfather.”

“Grand….” Solana knew she must have missed a lot during their separation but just how much she missed is blowing her mind right now. “I didn’t….maternal?” He doesn’t provide a direct answer, but it’s not exactly necessary. She can put two and two together. But, that’s about the only thing she can piece together. “Rom—”

“She should have stayed fucking dead.”

At that, she swallows. Gone are any traces of vulnerability. Replaced is anger. 

And, a lot of it.

“Baby—”

“I don’t need her. Didn’t then. Don’t know.” Words spoken from anger and something else. Definitely something else. “Doesn’t matter if she’s alive. She’s still dead to me.”

It’s obvious a conversation occurred when his mother, his alive mother, showed up at his office. A conversation Solana would bet did not go well. Did not go well at all. But, she can also see it. See that he’s not in a place or space to have that discussion right now. It needs to be had though. For sure. But, she won’t force it. Won’t force him. 

She’ll give him his space. For now. And revisit when the time is not necessarily right—because she's not sure that exists for something like this—but better than it is now. 

Solana leans up and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering as she murmurs, “it’s okay, mi amor.” It’s not. It’s very much not okay. But, it’s been not okay since she was kidnapped and the betrayals were revealed, and that is something, she’s almost certain, he still hasn’t processed either. So, this massive, unexpected thing is going to have to take the backburner until they get everything else sorted. What exactly that looks like, she’s not sure. She just knows that she’ll be with him every step of the way in and with whatever this journey looks like.

Always.

—-------

They don't leave their bedroom. Not on Christmas Eve. Not really. Nothing but discussions, reunification, and lovemaking. Making up for all of the time lost and then some. For Roman and Solana, the world consists of only them and Dulce. Everything else is irrelevant as they engage in and indulge in each other.

A necessity after being apart for so long.

Christmas morning is special for a variety of reasons. The main one being the minute they pulled up to the house upon her return home, she was immediately taken back by the outside. Christmas lights and other decorations greeted her and Dulce, who damn near jumped out of her arm to go bark at the Santa that Roman had on the porch. 

And, the surprises continued, as Solana found the interior just as wonderfully, festively decorated as the outside.  

Tears in her eyes, she’d looked over at him in disbelief. She’s known from the beginning his stance on holidays, so coming home to find her home so beautiful and cheery, it meant so much to her. He'd done it for her, because he loves her. The reason he does majority, if not all the amazing things he does and is for her. Her eyes shut as he leaned over and kissed her forehead, murmuring, “welcome home, baby.”

A wonderful welcome it certainly was. 

Waking up extra early Christmas morning, Solana managed to sneak away, venturing downstairs to her kitchen where she was able to prepare and surprise her husband with a grand breakfast. 

Among other things. 

He’d come down the steps, partially irritated only because it hadn’t dawned on him to have the chef prepare breakfast for them. An insult to her, though. 

If there’s one thing Solana loves, it’s to cook. She especially loves to cook for her husband. And given it’s their first major holiday spent together, she’s not prepared to let it go to waste. 

She simply lets her husband hold her, leaning up on her toes to kiss him, an emotional “Merry Christmas, mi amor” on her lips right as Dulce comes running in, like the firstborn that she is, clearly eager and ready to open gifts. 

Despite Dulce’s protests, the actual gift opening doesn’t happen until after Solana and Roman have shared breakfast together, the easy, light banter and conversation between them something both had deeply missed. 

But, when it does roll around for presents to be revealed, no one is happier than Dulce who receives an abundance of toys, clothes (she could pass on that), treats, and yet more beds. 

Giggling, Solana looks over at Roman who watches, shaking his head as Dulce makes herself comfortable in her latest sleeping option. “Now, who’s got her spoiled?”

He rolls his eyes, snapping a photo of their primadonna puppy. She especially appreciates how he's had his camera out, snapping and capturing memories ever since she returned. “You started it.”

Debatable. 

Of course, Roman being Roman, went above and beyond with his gifts for his wife. Solana is certain their new house will need a separate room just for all of her clothes and accessories. Once again, she’s overwhelmed with expensive, designer bags, jewelry, etc. But, as always, what makes her the happiest are the journals and books. They mean the most to her out of anything. It’s all appreciated, but there’s something about him gifting her with something he knows she loves so deeply that makes it even better.

But, as thankful and grateful she is for his never-ending generosity, she’s most excited, albeit nervous, for her gifts for him.

“Okay,” she starts, having walked over and grabbed two of the bags she’d snuck under their tree before going to bed last night. “Your turn.”

Roman lowers his camera from where he was snapping photos of her. “Baby, you know I don’t need anything.”

“Neither did I, and that didn’t stop you.” Is her soft counter. Solana stands before him, both bags in one hand, the other hand rubbing her belly. “Plus, I had to….it’s our first Christmas together.”

And, the last Christmas where they’ll just be a family of three, because come this time next year, they’ll have their daughters.

Just the thought brings a small smile to her face.

He sighs, moving the Canon to the right of him. “Still, Sol.”

She ignores him, offering the bag with what she wants him to see first. “Open it.”

He accepts it, legs spread just enough to rest it on the exposed space of the sofa. Solana bites down on her bottom lip, watching his face the whole time to assess for his reaction. She watches how he pulls out the neatly folded shirt, the tissue paper falling to the carpet. Sees how he lifts it up, the plain black back facing her, the front facing him. 

“OTC?” 

He lowers it just enough to catch her gaze. She nods, softly, offering explanation as he moves it to his lap, fingers ghosting over the intricate design embedded behind the blood red letters. 

“You’re the Only Tribal Chief.” Once more, his eyes are on her. “My OTC.”

It’s a term she’d heard Domingo, Matteo, and Dwayne use at various points back in Mexico. A powerful term considering everything that happened. One that feels entirely applicable for her husband. 

They tried to get rid of him, tried to kill him, tried to lay claim to a throne that rightfully belongs to him. 

But, they failed.

And, they always will.

Roman Reigns is the Tribal Chief. 

The Only Tribal Chief.

“Your OTC, huh?” Her smile is shy, almost. There’s a hint of respect in his voice that means a lot to her. “I like that.” A soft chuckle leaves his mouth as he again focuses on the design, recognition dawning. “These patterns….”

“They’re your tattoos,” she answers the unasked question. “I—I designed it for you.”

His surprise is evident and unhidden. “You did?”

Another nod and an almost bashful acknowledgement. “Yeah…” She shrugs with just one shoulder, adding, “I know you’re not into….fashion and things like that, but, I don’t know, I just thought—” An unfinished statement as she’s gently tugged forward, in between his legs and then onto his lap. The shirt resting over the same arm that’s over her, his hand on the side of her belly. 

“I love it,” he murmurs, eyes flitting up and down over her. “Thank you.”

Solana’s smile is unavoidable, as she leans forward to kiss him. “You’re welcome.” Wasting no time, she hands him the other bag. “Here.”

He wordlessly accepts it only after placing the shirt on the sofa beside him, next to his camera, the gift bag carefully kicked to the side, still on the floor. 

“This one might be my favorite.” Her confession is accompanied by part 2 of watching every movement he makes before reaching the end goal. Instead of lifting it up, largely due to the fact that she sits on his lap, Roman simply lays it to the side where both of them can see it. 

An amused smile grows at the way he scowls, confusion evident as he looks down at the black shirt with white writing. Spanish. He looks at her. “What does it say?”

She giggles. “Real men make twins.”

His smile also grows, the biggest she’s seen in some time. The quiet laughter that leaves his mouth is nourishment to her soul she didn’t realize she was lacking until now. “I saw it in the market while I was on my girls trip, but I couldn’t get it, because I didn't want to risk anyone finding out about the pregnancy. But, Afia saw me looking at it and bought it for me, so I guess it’s a gift from her.”

“Naw.” He shakes his head, thumb brushing over the lettering. “It’s from you.” He lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. “And, I love it.”

A second reiteration. An overwhelming appreciation.

“Good,” she murmurs, voice softening as she takes his hand, squeezing slightly. “But, that’s not all.”

“Solana…”

Climbing off his lap, she gives the slightest tug, forcing him to stand. “Come on, papa.”

Quiet, expected grumbles as she starts to guide them out of the living room. Solana goes to call for Dulce to go with them, but a single glance reveals she’s fast asleep in her latest princess bed.

He shakes his head. “I told you she’s lazy.”

“Hush,” Solana chides lightly, holding his hand as she walks them to the back of the house, ignoring his question of where they’re going. 

But, it’s when they’re outside of her art room, she turns and looks up at him. “Okay, close your eyes.”

He sighs. “Baby—”

“Roman, I’m not going to tell you again,” she warns, crossing her arms, not missing how his eyes fall to her breast at the motion of them unintentionally being pushed together. “Close your eyes.”

He’s slightly annoyed. She can see as much. She also doesn’t care.

“Fine.” Her smile returns, as he obliges. Solana lifts and waves her hand in front of him, checking to make sure he’s not looking. Satisfied he isn’t, she opens the door and hits the light switch.

“Come on,” she encourages, taking his hands, guiding him into the room. Solana walks them over to the wall space opposite the open window, the natural light highlighting the heavy, black drape over her main Christmas gift for her husband. “Just a minute.” Solana works to remove the drape, allowing it to fall to the floor. Solana kicks it to the side, preventing it from obscuring any portion of the gift. “Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Open.”

Roman doesn’t need to be told twice.

He opens his eyes.

Once again, Solana is focused solely and only on him, wanting and almost needing to see every reaction, minute to overt. And, there’s certainly a reaction.

She sees the way his face instantly softens, brows relaxed, mouth partially open. But, he doesn’t say anything, just steps forward, moves closer to the massive framed drawing that’s only a few inches shorter than him.

He stands in front of it, Solana watching silently from the side, chewing on her bottom lip. “I—I’d started one here a few months ago, but obviously, I couldn’t finish, so I….I started over while I was in Mexico. I wasn’t….I wasn’t sure I’d be able to finish it before you came back, but I did.”

She’s not certain how much of the backstory he’s retaining, as it’s obvious his attention is fully focused on the unexpected gift.

“Solana…” His voice is both heavy and quiet, the weight in it undeniable emotion. “You…you made this?”

She nods with a soft smile. “Yeah.”

He returns his attention to the large scale drawing. It’s of him. A sort of headshot with the only trace of his body being his tattooed shoulder. The main focus, however, is him, his face. A side profile, jaw and expression fierce, chin jutted. An almost regal pose. His hair down and flowing, however, is what he can’t seem to look away from. Because embedded in the ringlets of his mane are two other individuals. Subtle but visible. One smiling shyly, very similar to Solana’s own current expression. The other wearing a similar expression to his own.

His daughters.

It’s his daughters.

“I know it might…” Solana starts, sounding a bit unsure. “I know it might seem silly to include them. We’ve only….we’ve only seen them in dreams, but I….” She stops, eyes closing, hands to her belly. “I know that’s them. I just….I can feel it.” 

She just can. How or why, she hasn’t a clue. Solana just knows the sweet little twin girls that she and Roman have dreamed about for months are the little girls growing inside of her stomach. 

Visions, as she once called them. 

Glimpses of their future.

A beautiful, wonderful future. 

“Baby….” His voice is even heavier. Thick with emotion. A true space of vulnerability reserved for her and only her. “It’s beautiful.”

Her throat is heavy, eyes watering. “You like it?”

Roman scoffs and reaches for her hand, gently pulling her in front of him. He brings his hands to her face, his eyes gleaming with something confined and unspoken. “I love it.” Similar sentiments towards the shirts but deeper. Infinitely deeper. "Thank you."

Her eyes shut as he kisses her forehead, one hand dropping to her stomach, moving in a gentle circle. Appreciative. Grateful. Loving.

Solana moves herself into him, holding and hugging him as he kisses the top of her head. 

“Merry Christmas, Roman…”

—-----------

The day is spent just as Christmas Eve was spent. Together. Solana reaches out and wishes happy holidays to close friends and family, but for the most part, she’s tucked up under her husband the majority of the day. Talking, discussing, planning. The pregnancy. Post birth. The new house. Dreams of the future they’ve worked so hard to create and contribute to.

Pieces finally coming together.

She is, however, a bit surprised when evening rolls around, and he shares that they have dinner reservations at one of her favorite restaurants. It’s extremely unexpected given she’s yet to make her status as not dead a public thing yet. 

Or, rather, shared it with appropriate parties. 

But, he assures her that privacy and "secret" will be maintained, and she believes him. Roman has always prioritized giving and allowing them the space to just be. That, especially after everything that’s happened, is bound to not change anytime soon. 

If ever.

So, she obliges, getting done up, even donning a dress not even a year ago she wouldn’t dare to brave, let alone while pregnant. But, that was then. This is now. She’s a completely changed person in all the best ways. 

So, they share dinner together, talking, connecting, completely immersed in only the person sitting across from them. It’s a bit scary to her just how easy it is to get lost in Roman. The world feels like it starts and ends with him sometimes.

She wonders if he feels the same way about her.

Something tells her he does.

But, as they drive back home after almost three hours at the restaurant, Solana can feel it. Feel a shift within him. Nothing bad. Just….different. 

He’s quiet, and while she could guess that it’s largely due to them exhausting most and all topics on their date, it’s different. She can’t explain it, but she feels it. 

They ride home in almost complete silence. One of his big hands resting on her stomach, the other on the steering wheel.

She doesn’t say anything though. Prefers to wait until they’re back at the house. 

But, it’s when they arrive home, stepping out of the car, Roman closing the door behind her, Solana’s attention is immediately drawn to the front door. 

“Ava?”

Sure enough, Roman’s cousin stands at their front door, and not only is she standing in the front door, but she’s holding Dulce.

Naturally, Solana walks over, Ava meeting her halfway on the cobblestone driveway, instantly pulling her into a one arm hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” she murmurs. Only then does Solana realize this is the first time they’ve seen each other since the coup.

She sighs. Happily. “It’s good to see you, too, Ava.”

Briefly, Solana wonders if her friends will feel the same. 

Cameron. Mickie. Melina.

Will they also be relieved or too upset by the subterfuge?

It’s a thought she has to shake away, as the two women separate. Ava takes a step back, smiling widely at Solana’s bump. “Holy shit, they’re getting so big.” 

Solana giggles and rubs her bump. “They are.” However, it’s Dulce looking over, ears up, clearly wanting to be pet that redirects Solana’s attention. “What….what are you doing here?”

She looks up and back at Roman who stands close behind Solana. “I–I wanted to see you guys.”

Solana eyes her suspiciously. “Ava, you hate Roman.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You literally told me, “I hate him.” To be fair, Solana knows that Ava doesn't actually hate Roman, but there's something about her reason for being at their house that just feels...off.

Again, more avoidance. “Okay, but that was before he almost died and shit, and then we lost an aunt. Like, a lot has happened,” she dismisses. “Besides,” her smile returns as she caresses the top of Dulce’s head, “I wanted to see this cutie.”

Solana frowns. “Dulce?”

“Duh. She’s like my favorite person in this lil fam'.” Ava reaches to rub Solana’s belly. “Until the girls get here, of course.” But before Solana can comment on Ava’s….strange demeanor, she suddenly announces, “well, I’m gonna go take her for a walk.”

At that, Solana frowns. “A walk? Dulce doesn’t go on walks this late.”

“Well, she does now.” The other woman frowns, covering her mouth with one hand to whisper, “she’s getting a little chunky.”

Dulce looks over, her ears lifting as if knowing she’s just been insulted. 

Ava, however, just offers a wave. “Have fun!” 

Solana can only open her mouth and turn to Ava who saunters off like nothing just happened. 

“What—” 

“It’s fine, Sol,” Roman advises, stepping forward and kissing her temple. 

“Where is she taking our baby?” Solana asks, trying to look past her monolithic man of a husband as he gradually guides her inside the house. “It’s getting late—”

“Damn dog sleeps all day anyway.”

Solana gasps, slapping him lightly on the chest. “Be nice.” He snorts, managing to guide her onto the porch. She continues to look off in the direction where Ava walked. “Are you sure—”

“Solana.” She turns her gaze back to him, realizing only then how serious he’d become. But, also something else….something close to trepidation. 

Like, he’s nervous. 

Solana frowns. “Roman, what’s going on?” 

In the time she’s known him, he’s never acted like this with her. So….on edge. 

But, once again, he dismisses it, instead taking her hand to lead her into their home. 

For now. 

Their home for now. 

But, that’s the least of her concerns. What sits promptly at the top of the list is the weird behavior from Ava and the uncharacteristic disposition of her husband. “Roman Tamasa Reigns—” She starts, right behind him as he goes to open the door and step inside. “What the hell is going—” She stops the second she’s inside. “On….” Solana feels like breathing is suddenly a thing only few are allowed and privy to. And, she’s not one of those people. “Oh my….” 

There’s so much to take in. The rose petals that are carefully placed and decorating the entire entryway of the home. Of various red, pink, and white colors. Heart shaped balloons in every corner. Soft music that plays in the background, a tune she can’t focus on because of everything else. Lit candles placed strategically and carefully around the home in conjunction with the low lighting that serves as the perfect ambiance. 

“Oh my God,” Solana finds words, but they’re brief and weighed down with all the emotion that fills her chest when she finally realizes what song is playing. 

Can’t Help Falling in Love 

The version from one of her favorite movies of all time, Crazy Rich Asians, from one of her favorite scenes in any adaptation of all time. 

Tears blur her vision as she looks over at her husband. “Roman…”

He says nothing, just reaches for her hand, directing her to follow him. “Come on.”

“Baby….” Her voice breaks as she does as he says, all the while taking in the beauty around her. Beauty that extends past just the foyer, the path continuing into their living room and kitchen. It’s all shades and rays of pinks and reds.

But, it’s when she sees the backyard, the petals that continue along the path there, litter their pool along with beautiful lanterns, the music even louder, emanating from the outdoor speakers, that it really breaks her. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Solana starts crying, her hand over her mouth. It takes everything in her to ask, so overcome with so many feelings, “you….you did all this for me?” She sniffles, shaking her head. “It’s beautiful.”

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

“Solana…” He moves closer to her, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not….I’m not good with words like you are, and half of this shit, I needed Ava and….Fetu’s help to figure out the best way to do” Words that make her heart stop. Fetu. If Fetu had helped Roman arrange this, then that would mean he’s been planning this for months.

Months.

He continues, swallowing, “we didn’t start out the right way, and that’s because of me. I deprived you of that. Our wedding was traumatic for you, and I fucking hate that shit more than you could ever know. I don’t ever want to be on the causing side of your trauma.”

Her eyes water, her heart aching. “Roman, you could never–”

“And, I know I can’t change what happened, but I can offer you another chance.” Solana has to remind herself the importance of breathing, watching how he reaches inside his suit jacket. “I know that my forever is with you. My forever is you, but I—I want us to do it the right way. To give you that the right way, because you deserve it, baby.”

She’s crying into her hands again as he moves to one knee. “Oh my God….”

“Solana Esmeralda Reigns, I love you, and I don’t think I’ll ever really deserve you, but I love you, and I promise to always take care of and protect you and the family we’ve made.” Her eyes widen as he pops the ring box open, revealing the most beautiful ring she’s ever seen. A massive pink diamond in the most breathtaking setting. “Will you marry me?”

Emotions. All of the emotions. Fluttering, raining, running, drowning her. 

It’s all overwhelming in the most unexpected way. He went through so much to make this happen, has been working on this for months, working to provide her the type of fantasy a woman can only dream of. The type of thing people read about in sappy romance books, all the while knowing the reality of anything similar ever happening being slim to none.

And, it’s that slim space that he’s found and made a reality. 

But, it’s only when Solana feels her babies kicking, both of them, that she realizes an answer is due.

The only answer she could ever give the man in front of her.

“Yes,” she breathes. The smallest hint of a smile on his handsome face tugs on her heartstrings even more. She cries harder. “Of course, yes.”

A million times over. In all the ways. In every universe. 

Solana watches as he removes her current ring—something she 100% plans to still keep—replacing it with the new, current one. She can only continue to stare in utter shock and disbelief at the stunning, unexpected ring sitting on her ring finger. Just like she can barely wait for him to be back on his feet to reach up, palming his face as she leans up to kiss him. Passionate. Intense. Love. 

So much love. 

Their eyes shut, foreheads touching as she moves his hands to her stomach to feel their girls moving around, as if also partaking in this unforgettable moment of love, promise, and future.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

—--------

"Where are we going?"

To be fair, the minute it comes out of her mouth, she already knows she's not about to receive an answer. Not a straight one anyway.

Roman lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, the corner of his mouth brushing against her new wedding ring. He follows this up with a simple, "you'll see." Roman lowers their now conjoined hands, maneuvering the steering wheel with his other hand, offering nothing else.

Solana is tempted to pry and try to extract something more than that, but she decides against it. Roman has been full of nothing but positive, beautiful, wonderful surprises since their reunion. 

Something tells her this will be no different. 

Instead, her attention travels to the emotional reunion she had just yesterday at the local community recreation center. 

The children.

The children from her reading club.

Of all the people to see and reveal her not being dead to, that had to be the hardest group. Such young, innocent lives forever changed. Mourning the loss of Mrs. Jensen, the kind librarian who lost her life for nothing. Mourning the loss of her. Except, one loss was permanent. Never to be changed.

It’s a type of loss and grief Solana knows she hasn’t really started to feel and process, but one that’s bound to come sooner or later.

However, while the kids were surprised, obviously emotional, they were mostly relieved. Happy. Filled with so much relief. She was tackled with so many hugs, so many questions especially about her stomach. About her pregnancy.

Something she included in her child-friendly explanation. 

“My husband and I had to make sure those bad people couldn’t hurt me or our babies.”

Not a lie. 

Not a lie at all. 

But, it’s also the overwhelming appreciation from the parents that took Solana by surprise. The indescribable appreciation and gratitude they extended her way.

“You saved my baby.”

She can’t count how many times she was told that and other variations. A truth she hadn’t really considered until then. She wasn’t thinking about how she was, in fact, saving the kids’ lives by pleading with Solo for mercy.

She was just doing what was right.

It’s a bittersweet thing, because while she was able to save the children, she couldn’t save the other lives lost. Innocent people just going to their local library.

Sami.

Bautista.

Two people who, though not knowing for long, she will miss greatly. They were good men who didn’t deserve the ending that found them. A sentiment she shares with her husband who has vowed that he’ll make sure their families are looked after and always taken care of. 

He’d already issued payment to cover the rest of Bautista’s daughter’s collegiate years along with six figure college funds for Sami’s children. Is funding his widow's move out of the city to be closer to family.

Kind, appreciated gestures that help but don’t fully the dull the ache and pain of grief.

Again, more processing Solana knows she’ll have to work through over the next few months.

Years, even.

And, she continues to think of the past, the present, and the near future up until the SUV comes to a stop. 

One glance out the window, and all she sees is….nothing.

Solana continues to look around confused as all the outdoors. Her confused expression remains as Roman rounds the SUV and opens the door for her, helping her step out.

"Ro…." He steps back only after making sure she's flat and stable on the ground, taking her hand in his once more. "What…."

Roman continues to remain silent, guiding them deeper into….nothing.

Nothing exists around them outside of the security detail, grass, and trees in the far off distance. Beautiful. She can acknowledge that much. The views of hills and forestry in the distance are a beautiful compliment to the sun that shines behind it, illuminating and highlighting it almost.

None of that, however, explains just why her husband has them in the middle of beautiful nowhere.

"What do you think?"

Solana looks over and up at him, the two finally stopped, a distance large enough between them and their security so that a conversation can be had privately, without listening ears.

"Umm…." It could possibly be one of the most confusing questions she's had presented to her in some time. "It's…..it's a beautiful view, and the grass is….really green."

The smallest smile falls on Roman's face prompting her to reciprocate it. She loves to see him smile.

Especially these days.

Roman lifts his sunglasses up, placing them atop his head as he makes a low sound. She watches him move to stand behind her, leaning down, holding her from behind, hands on her stomach. "It's almost 700 acres." Her eyes widen at that. It's even bigger than it looks, and that's saying something. "A couple miles away from the nearest other property." Solana's initial profound confusion diminishes ever so slightly at that last line, and she knows Roman must sense it. He holds her closer, pushing back strings of her hair. "More than enough room to build as big as you want."

Her head snaps to look at him, that recognition and realization slamming into her. "Ro…"

He gestures ahead, Solana following his line of vision. "Main house could be right there." He motions to the right. "Mother-in-law suite over there." Another gesture to the broad span of emptiness. "And then anything else we want."

"Roman…" Solana pouts, eyes watering as it all comes to her. As she sees exactly why they're here. Why he's taken her here. Sees the vision. Stepping away, their hands drop as she moves one of hers to her belly, eyes closing. She can see it. See Lina and Leya chasing Roman around the pool, eager and determined to finally "catch" him. Can hear the sounds of their happy laughter and the ding of the oven signifying lunch is ready. Can smell the delicious aroma of her abuela's cooking. Can feel the love that consumes her little family.

Her home.

It's why she turns around to look at him. "It's perfect."

That same small smile returns. "Yeah?"

Solana chuckles, walking back over and reaching up to cup his bearded face. "Yeah." She leans up to kiss him, lips lingering over his. "It's ours."

"Ours," he murmurs, hands on the sides of her stomach, pulling her to him. "When do you want to break ground?"

"Tomorrow." An easy answer. Solana moves her hands up his chest, explaining, "I know it won't be ready before the girls are here, but I at least want it ready for their first Christmas." A thought crosses her mind. “Wait, we have to sign paperwork though, right?”

He shakes his head, turning her around, leaning her back against him. “I already bought it.” She gasps. “I saw it while….while you were gone, and it just seemed right. But, I wanted to get your thoughts first—”

“It’s perfect.” She cuts him off, holding onto his forearms, eyes shutting from undeniable contentment. “And ours.”

He echoes her sentiments, kissing her cheek. “Ours.”

���----------

The minute Roman opens the door for her, and Solana steps out onto the field, she takes it all in. Imagines it. Imagines a time where the stadium is filled with cheering, yelling, excited bodies, all eager and fully immersed in the game. A game her husband once played.

And, then she looks up at Roman, sees how he also looks around, but he doesn't have to imagine. He can just remember. Relive, maybe.

Reliving his time in the stadium where he played football so many years ago. The stadium that they currently stand in.

Taking his hand in hers, Roman looks down, Solana offering a small smile.

He doesn't say anything, just leans over and kisses her forehead. Solana holds onto his arm as he walks them deeper into the gridiron, in the middle almost. And, it's not until she turns around that she realizes just how heavy their security detail is. Nine SUV's lined up back to back, armed men, some Bloodline, some Cartel, standing and watching. Always assessing.

Same as the man beside her.

"It's okay," she comforts, pressing a kiss against his arm.

He sighs, still not saying anything as he just continues to wait.

And watch.

Not even five minutes later, the familiar sound of cars. SUV's. Much like the entourage they traveled with. They come in from the opposite side of the stadium. Solana counts six of them.

And the fourth one is the one that they get out of.

She sees Cody first. Sees the way his gaze falls on them, falls on Roman. The same way she feels Roman tense next to her. Subtly, Solana caresses her fingers across his arm, a quiet gesture of continued comfort. Cody rounds the SUV and opens the side door, the first person to exit bringing a small smile on Solana's face.

Emma's too.

Solana can vaguely make out the sound of the little girl saying something, a big smile planted on her face as she makes a beeline towards where she stands with Roman. Already feeling him tense even more, Solana moves to stand in front of him, to prevent him from doing anything.

"Solana!" Emma cries out happily as she slams her little body against Solana's legs, hugging her.

"Hi, Emma," she greets, watching the little girl pull back, eyes wide, mouth ajar as she stares at her stomach.

At her baby bump.

"You're having a baby?"

Naturally, Solana's smile deepens. As does her pride. "I am." Eyes twinkling with playful curiosity, she asks, "you wanna know something else?" Emma nods rapidly, prompting Solana to giggle as she bends down to whisper in Emma's ear. "I'm having two babies."

Another loud gasp and a "really?"

Solana laughs, straightening up, rubbing her belly. "Yup."

It's only when Roman moves his hands to Solana, tugging her back beside him that she realizes Cody and Brandi have started to walk in their direction. Emma turns around and runs toward her parents, tugging on Brandi's shirt. "Mommy! Solana is having a baby! Two babies!"

Roman tenses once more beside her, Solana subtly brushing her arm against him. She knows he wasn't the most comfortable with this whole idea in the first place but especially because there's no way to hide her pregnancy anymore. Not to mention, her black one piece with gray cropped top does absolutely nothing to hide her pronounced baby bump.

But, Solana needed this. She needed to see Brandi and Emma, and while it definitely took a lot of convincing and pleading with her husband, he finally agreed. Reaching out to Cody who, surprisingly, agreed.

Solana wonders if Brandi and/or Emma wanted the same thing, too.

Brandi's gaze falls over to Solana as they step closer, close enough for her to reach over and pull Solana into a hug. Instantly and immediately, Solana feels it. The turmoil still brewing within the other woman. The trauma.

"It's okay," Solana whispers and holds her just a little tighter. "You're safe." The tiniest gasp leaves Brandi's mouth. Emotions she's clearly doing her best to keep at bay. For a variety of reasons but none more than the little girl with blue eyes who stands close to her dad, watching with curiosity the interaction between her mother and Solana.

Brandi clears her throat and backs away. She quickly wipes at her eyes and motions down. "I can't believe…." She trails off, the recognition settling in. "Does that mean you were—"

"Yes," Solana answers prematurely. She already knows the rest of it.

Brandi's expression grows solemn, prompting Solana to motion for her to step to the side with her.

Instantly, Solana feels Roman behind her, inching closer. "Sol—"

She turns around, eyes soft and pleading. "Please."

His jaw, much like his entire body, is tense. But, he meets her eyes, sees and feels the sincerity. The unspoken 'trust me.' And, he sighs, nodding. Approval.

She presses her lips together. Relieved. Thankful.

Solana and Brandi move to the side, Emma going to join them, staying close to her mom. Expected.

But, that leaves the two men alone, mere feet from each other. Both of them watch their wives quietly interact, Roman having to push away his irritation at seeing Brandi place a gentle hand atop Solana's belly.

"You know…." Cody's voice is the last thing Roman wants to hear right now. He's the last person Roman wants to see right now. "What they went through…." Roman turns a vicious glare onto the man he'd prefer to just put a bullet in and leave it at that. "They'll always be linked together."

The same way you and I are.

The unspoken, obvious ending neither man will ever be able to verbalize.

The same way Roman would rather be rotting in a grave somewhere than acknowledge the truth to Cody's statement.

But, he is right.

Solana, Brandi, and even the kid, shared something together. Experienced and survived something traumatic as fuck together. That means, the same way Cody and Roman, who also, in a convoluted manner, have a history cloaked in betrayal and trauma, will always be linked.

That doesn't mean Roman has to like or allow it to go beyond that.

"This is a one time thing." An announcement to Cody. Something he's yet to discuss with Solana. He understood why she wanted to see Brandi and Emma. Didn't like it, but made the arrangements. However, this shit can't happen again. "And, it doesn't change anything between us."

Regardless of the team up of sorts, even Roman learning more about the betrayal that resulted in the murder of his family, the role Rikishi played, it doesn't change what's happened. At the end of the day, there will always be a thick river of blood that separates him from the man across from him. That bleeds out whatever type of friendship that once existed between them.

That shit is dead.

"I have something for you!" Emma's happy voice shouts as she turns around and makes a beeline for the line SUV she's exited with her parents. Brandi turns around only for Cody to lift his hand, running after Emma, neither parent clearly wanting too much distance between themselves and their daughter.

Again, understandable.

With some newfound privacy, Solana takes advantage. "Brandi…." She turns around, expression expectant. "You haven't told him, have you?"

Just like that, her eyes shift. An abundance of something and then nothing. "What sense does it make?" Brandi looks away, discomfort palpable. "He's dead now."

Solana swallows. "Brandi—"

"He's dead, Solana." Her voice takes a dark, empty tone. "It's over."

Solana grows quiet. She sees it. God, she sees it. The pool of hurt and anger and fear and confusion, and every other emotion Brandi is clearly pushing away. Her lack of disclosure of the assault comes at no surprise to Solana. Neither does the other woman's overall disposition toward it. Indifference. An attempt to pretend like everything's okay.

When it's not.

It's very clearly not.

"When….when you're ready, and only then, just know that I'm here," Solana offers, voice just as gentle as her gaze. "I mean it."

Because while Brandi may not see or realize it now, at some point, she will need to talk. Or not even talk. Just be around someone who understands her. Understands her pain. Understands what it does to someone to be violated in the worst way possible. And sadly, Solana knows that all too well. It's a pain she wouldn't wish on anyone and why she's making herself available.

When Brandi is ready and needing support, she'll be there.

No matter what.

Brandi offers no verbal response, just nods and once again wipes at her eyes just as Emma runs back over.

"Merry Christmas!" She stands before Solana, a decorative bag not much bigger than her in her hands as she reaches it to the pregnant woman. "Well, late Christmas."

Solana gasps, a genuine smile on her face. "For me?"

Emma nods happily as Solana accepts the bag, moving to pull out the soft item covered in wrapping paper. A quiet gasp leaves Solana's mouth as she manages to place the card in between her thighs, Brandi catching the bag before it can fall onto the floor. "Oh my goodness…." There's a hint of awe in her voice both at the softness as well as the beautiful baby pink color of the knit blanket. "This is so beautiful!"

Emma's smile brightens as she looks up at her mom. "Mommy and I made it!" She sounds so proud, Solana's heart swelling at seeing her so happy. It's relieving, to say the least. "I hope you like pink."

"I love pink," Solana holds it up and hugs it, looking between mother and daughter. "Thank you." Such a kind, thoughtful gift from an equally kind little girl. Placing the blanket back in the bag, she moves closer to Emma. "I hope one day my little girls can be just as sweet and brave as you, Emma."

Emma's eyes light up once more, as she holds onto Brandi's leg, sharing with all the innocence of a young girl. "You're gonna be a super cool mommy."

This time, Brandi laughs along with Solana, the latter feeling tears brew in her eyes.

"I hope so, sweetie." Truly. "I hope so."

There's an unspoken reminder from the two men. An invisible countdown of sorts that's reached zero. That makes Solana to venture back over to Roman's side, and Brandi and Emma to move closer to Cody.

The conversation is brief, less emotional, largely due to the men before them. The tension between them is substantial. 

But when Emma asks the infamous question as to if/when she’ll see Solana again, the answer provided is something neither Roman—or Cody—seem to like.

“Yes.” It’s said with the most sincere smile. “You will.”

Solana knows she’ll have to figure all that out, and she will. Just not now.

A few more comments, well wishes, and a Happy New Year message are exchanged between the women, and Emma, before Cody quietly instructs them to head back to the cars.

It's only when Brandi and Emma's retreating forms are a good distance away that Cody directs his focus to Solana. "Solana…"

Naturally, Roman shoots his arm across and in front of his wife, sneering, "you don't get to fucking address her."

Cody's jaw twitches, something lingering in the back of his throat but set aside for what he's clearly intentional about saying. "I know my history with your husband must be something you're certainly aware of at this point." She says nothing, just moves her other hand to the small of Roman's back. Fingers gently scraping up and down. A calming, subtle gesture. "That it should come at no surprise to you that it took everything in me to agree to this. That the idea of being this close to the Tribal Chief and not putting a bullet in his head seems like the greatest missed opportunity."

At that, Solana has to actively grab Roman's arm, preventing her husband from lunging forward and carrying out an act she's sure he's dreamed about.

However, Cody remains unmoving. Undeterred. "But, the fact of the matter is that I'd be a hypocrite—"

"—you already fucking are—"

Cody ignores Roman's interjection. "Because I owe him." At that, both husband and wife still, never giving away just where they are to the man across from them, all the while still taken back by the unexpected statement. "And, I owe you."

"Because, my hatred for your husband can't and doesn't outweigh my knowing of the fact that if not for his resources, for his team, my story could have played out very differently." The most subtle yet visible softening of his expression. "I know what you did for my wife. For my daughter." Solana lifts her chin, mindful of her expression, though unable to ignore the emotion brewing. "You saved their lives, protected them, and that's a debt I can never truly repay."

Unexpected. It's such an unexpected thing to leave the mouth of the man who could, arguably, be her husband's biggest enemy.

She can practically feel the hate radiating off his big body.

Off both of them, really.

But, dimmed by that hate, with Cody, at least, is something else. Sincerity. He seems sincere with his words.

"You're wrong," she speaks for the first time. Roman never takes his eyes off Cody, however. "You can repay it, even though I don't see it as a debt or something that needs to be repaid. I saved your wife and protected your daughter, because that's who I am." Similar words said to Domingo. Words that she means with everything in her. Same for the next set that comes out. "But, if you see it as a debt, I'll hold you to that."

"Solana—"

"You want to settle that debt?" Solana moves past Roman's arm, feeling him reach for her hip as she approaches Cody with zero reservation. "I want your word that you will never lay a hand or bring any harm to my family or my husband." At that, there's visible shock from the man before her, and probably from the one behind her. "You hate Roman? That's fine. He hates you just as much, if not more. But, the same way he's not brought any harm to you or yours in years, I expect you to do the same. You stay the hell away from him. Now and until the end of time."

Truth be told, this was the last thing Solana expected to come out of this meeting. Her essentially threatening the leader of the Nightmare Factory. But, the opportunity to take advantage of what the man views as a debt is too great to pass up. If she can secure protection for her husband, for her future children, she'll do it every time.

His voice remains even. "That sounds a lot like a threat.”

"Your perception of my words is of no consequence to me." She shakes her head, nose turned up almost. "You can view it however you want. Just know that I have the Bloodline, the Cosa Nostra, and the Cartel behind me." Power. She has power. "And you know what I did to protect your family." Solana inches forward, head tilted, voice dangerously calm as she ominously asks, "so, what do you think I'd do to protect mine?"

Never ever would Solana do anything to directly hurt Brandi or Emma. Truth be told, she doesn't even want to see anything necessarily happen to Cody. But, she's not naive, either. She knows how this works. Knows that it's everyone for themselves, so she has to do what she has to do for hers.

Solana remains planted directly in front of him, gaze unwavering. Unbothered but aware of the fact that Roman stays close behind her, waiting and ready to move, if necessary.

Cody maintains her gaze, eventually nodding. "Alright." She remains still. "You have my word, Solana Reigns." Still unmoving. Waiting for it. "No harm will come to you or yours from me or mine."

Confirmation. Solana's response is simple. The bare minimum. "I plan to hold you to that."

And, she will.

Cody offers only a nod as he slowly steps back, a last glance toward Roman before turning to walk away.

Roman doesn’t look away. Not until the SUV's begin to drive off, one by one. It’s then she places her hand on his arm, as he takes a deep breath. “That was bold.”

“It was.” She won’t deny it. Won’t disagree whatsoever. “But, necessary.”

His jaw twitches, as he looks down. “Solana—”

“No one is ever going to come after our family again, Roman,” she vows. She means it with everything in her, too. “And, if they’re stupid enough to try….we’ll give them hell.”

Because, if there’s one thing this whole experience has taught and shown her, it’s that she’s not alone. 

They’re not alone.

And, they never will be again.

Solana takes his hand in hers, squeezing gently. “Let’s go home, baby.”

—--------

“Aye, the players have gotten too soft, I swear.” Santos sneers with all of the disgust, watching the game playing on the flat screen TV.

Dwayne lifts up his beer, shaking his head. “Tell me about it. Lil pussies can’t take a fucking hit anymore.”

“That’s cause they don’t let those boys play anymore,” Steve snorts, finishing his second—or third—beer of the night. “Everything’s a fucking penalty.”

“I’ve never understood the appeal of American football,” Matteo admits, also sipping his beer. 

“And, I’ve never understood the appeal of most male dominated sports,” Afia chimes, walking past and leaning over behind the sofa to kiss her husband on the cheek. “Though some do look mighty fine doing so.”

Matteo sits up. “Hey.” Afia’s laughter is heard as she walks down the hall, heading to the kitchen but not before motioning for Solana to follow her. 

Solana, situated on Roman’s lap, looks down at her husband. “Baby—”

“What the fuck was that?” Roman shouts at the TV, his expression of frustration chorused with the other men seated around their living room. “Are you fucking shitting me? How was that not holding?”

Solana giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” he responds, gaze focused more on the TV than anything. She yelps when he slaps her ass as she adjusts her dress before walking off. 

In the kitchen, Solana finds the majority of the women lounging in her kitchen, some sitting at the island, some preparing their second plate of food, some just casually chatting. 

It’s an expected group, as the rest of the party attendees, primarily the older folks including her abuela, Bayley’s parents, and her grandma in a separate part of the house, watching the kids. Mostly, Afia and Matteo’s boys, as well as Melina and Santos son. 

Sana preferred to stay with the women, where she currently sits atop Bayley’s lap.

She’s taken a strong liking to her, ever since their time spent in Isla Mujeres.

“It’s amazing how football seems to be the universal language of men.” Melina says with a sigh, gesturing to where the group have been glued to the TV since the game started a half hour ago. “Any other time, they’d be trying to kill each other.”

Bayley makes a sound from where she sits on the bar stool, Sana on her lap, headphones on, attention on the tablet in her hand. She’s in her own little world. “Give it time.”

Ava makes a sound of agreement. “Especially with Big Ears over there.”

“Hey.” Solana remains standing, hand rubbing her belly. “Be nice.”

“What?” Ava scowls, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, Solana, but you gotta admit those ears are big as hell. He looks like—what’s that Dwarf with the big ears?”

Mickie snorts, sipping on her wine. “The ears ain’t the only thing that’s big.”

Cam’s mouth drops. “Mickie, you gotta stop that.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Ava grimaces, walking over to grab the bottle of wine to refill her cup. 

“What? Did I lie?” Seeing the partially confused, partially intrigued expression on Stephanie’s face, Mickie leans over to whisper in her ear. 

When she pulls back, Stephanie’s mouth drops a bit, asking in her deep accent, “that big?”

Rhea looks like she’s about to vomit. “Disgusting!”

Solana covers her face, but spread fingers allowing her to see the smirk on Stephanie's face as she comments before sipping her beer. “I see why you’re pregnant.”

“You guys, stop it. That’s her husband,” Afia steps in, shaking her head before a smirk falls on her face. “Must run in the family.”

“Stop!” Solana shouts, eyes wide as laughter breaks out among the group, herself included as she shakes her head. “You guys are terrible.”

“Naw.” Mickie shakes her head, laughter settling into a small smile. “We’re family.” 

It’s an announcement that brings a comfortable silence over the spacious kitchen and women currently occupying the space. 

To say Solana was nervous about revealing her “dead but not dead” plot to some of the women around her would be an understatement. While recognizing the necessity of it for a myriad of reasons, it was still a difficult thing to do at the time and even more difficult to reveal as a non-truth.

Solana knew her friends would be mourning her death, mourning the tragic loss of her “life,” having to spend over a month in this headspace in believing her to no longer be among the living. 

So, sharing the truth, explaining the real story, was something she was not only nervous about but not looking forward to. She hated doing that to them. Necessary or not. 

But, a few days after being home, spending time with just her husband, Solana knew the longer she waited, the harder it would be. Her friends deserved the truth, and it’s a truth she delivered to them.

There were a lot of emotions. A lot of anger and confusion. Rightfully so. And, Solana accepted and handled it all, because again, it was deserved. 

But, it was after that dust settled, a new, strong emotion was present. 

Relief. 

They were relieved to know she was alive and even expressed understanding why Solana had to fake her murder. Recognized it was to protect her and her unborn children. 

And ultimately, they were just happy to have their friend back. 

To have their family. 

And, that’s why, on the last day of the year, at this New Years Eve party she planned and organized in only a couple of days, Solana will bring in the New Year surrounded by her loved ones. 

Her family.

“Enough of the sex talk.” Ava takes the lead to divert the conversation to something else, as she looks over at Solana. “Have you and Dumbo decided on names for the girls?”

Sounds of agreement and similar questions hit the ears of a smirking Solana. “Maybe.”

Melina scoffs, playfully shoving her, as she’s the closest. “Well?”

Shrugging, Solana answers truthfully. “We’re keeping their names a secret until they get here.” As expected, groans and grumbles, prompting her to clarify. “There’s….there’s a story there that makes how we picked them personal, so we just want to keep it between us….for now.” 

An agreed upon thing between the two of them, not to mention Roman and Solana having zero desire to explain that they’d both had dreams or visions of the girls before they even came to be. That’s such a special, intimate thing that both would like to keep between them.

Including the girls' names.

As she said, for now.

“I get that,” Afia offers an olive branch. “Plus, really, it’s no one’s business except you and him.”

“True,” Mickie makes a face. “But, we’re also nosy.” 

“Not your uterus,” Rhea chimes, lifting her drink. “Not your business.”

Solana smiles. Though Rhea, and even Stephanie, are new additions to the group, they blend seamlessly. And, to Rhea, Solana owes so much. She was a part of the team that helped rescue her. She didn’t have to. She didn’t even know Solana, but she did, and for that, Solana is immensely grateful.

Stephanie nods, looking over at the other woman. “I like her.” 

Bayley chuckles. “Of course, you do.” She looks down at Sana who continues to play on her tablet, comfortable and oblivious. “But, they are right. You can tell us when you’re ready, prima. Or, ya know, at the baby shower.”

At that, Solana frowns a bit. “Baby shower?”

Afia looks over at her sister-in-law. “You didn’t think we weren’t going to throw you a baby shower for your first pregnancy, did you?”

Solana opens her mouth only to close it before admitting. “I guess….I didn’t think about it.” She truly hadn’t. With everything that’s happened the past few months, it never even occurred to her that that is also something that should happen. “But, you guys really don’t have to—”

“Too late,” Melina speaks up, sharing. “We already put down the deposit on the venue this past Monday.” 

Solana continues to be taken back. “That quickly?” Part of her surprise is also at the fact that despite only knowing about her still being alive for a matter of days, the group has fallen right back into their sense of normalcy. 

It’s appreciated. 

More than they could ever know.

“But, don’t bring Roman,” Ava adds, nose turned up in disgust. ��Leave his ass here.” 

Rhea looks confused. “Isn’t he the father?”

Stephanie also speaks up, just as confused. “And her husband?”

Ava, however, shrugs. “And?” She quickly provides what Solana can consider to be a valid point. “He hates people and social interactions anyway.”

They’re not entirely wrong, and Solana had only briefly discussed a baby shower with her husband, but that was before. Before…..everything.

She’s not too sure where he would stand on it now, though a part of her wonders if it being planned for them (her) would change anything. 

“He agreed to this.” Cam offers another valid point. 

“Yeah, because she probably promised to sit on his face once we all leave.”

“Mickie!”

Melina pinches the bridge of her nose. “I swear to God, they should have never taken you off that damn Lithium.” 

Solana shakes her head right as another subject change commences. “You girls are all way too focused on the wrong things.” Afia once again looks over at her sister-in-law. “Are we just not going to discuss that gorgeous ring on her finger?”

Solana is blushing once more, looking at her….engagement ring? Wedding ring? She’s not sure just what to call it considering she’s already legally married. She just knows that Afia is 100% correct.

It’s gorgeous.

“Do you have any idea how rare and expensive pink diamonds are?” Bayley asks, her question more rhetorical than anything. “That man may hate everyone else, but he certainly loves you.”

Admiring her ring, Solana is immediately taken back to the most unexpected, yet beautiful night of her life. Roman proposing to her. Giving her something she never got to experience. Giving her a choice.

Though that last part feels a bit unnecessary.

In any circumstance, in any life, in any universe, she’ll always choose him. 

Every single time. 

“Clearly,” Rhea chuckles and asks. “Have you two picked a date?”

At that, Solana’s smile deepens. “Valentine’s Day.” 

It’s actually a date, surprisingly enough, he suggested. Roman shared that he’d discussed with Ava and Fetu, before the latter’s passing, proposing to her on Christmas and them having another wedding on Valentine’s Day. The dates primarily being Fetu’s suggestion.

He told her Fetu thought it would be romantic and a way for them both to experience some of the holidays after spending years not doing so.

Solana couldn’t agree more.

Melina’s smile deepens. “Really?” 

Solana nods. “And you’re all invited.” It should be obvious, but in the event it isn’t, she wants to make it clear. “It will be in Isla Mujeres though, so just clear your schedules.”

Because Solana can’t imagine a better place to once again commit herself to her better half than in the place where so many memories have been made. 

And, there’s so many more to come.

—-------

"Wait," Mickie takes another quick gulp of her drink, before looking around the room. "Am I really the only one who's done the math?"

Nearing closer to midnight, the group has all transitioned back to the living room, everyone coupled up, with the exception of the non-couples. The older folks remaining in the separate room, some of the kids laid to bed in some of the guest rooms.

That last part was definitely a hard sell for Solana when she first brought up the idea of a New Year’s Eve party to her husband. The fact that some folks might end up spending the night, due to how late it would be. 

He was….less than pleased.

Melina rolls her eyes from where she sits on Santos lap. "What math, Mickie?"

Solana is partially confused on just how they got on the topic of her pregnancy once more, but she’s at least willing to see where it goes.

Even if something tells her it won’t be….the best. 

Mickie downs the rest of her drink, stumbling over to stand in the middle of the living room. She’s definitely one of the ones who will be sleeping off her hangover shortly after the clock strikes midnight. "Our collective goddaughters are due sometime in May, correct?" A few head nods from the group. "That means they were conceived sometime in August, and guess where we—" She motions to herself, Cam, Melina, and Solana. "—were in August?" 

It’s an answer most know, and for those who don’t, Solana doesn’t really care either way. Because everyone sitting around her has proven their loyalty and ability to be trustworthy. A bittersweet thing, because the absence of Jimmy and Naomi is noticeable. And, she hates it. 

Hates that they’re not there.

Hates where they are right now. 

She can only pray this time next year, things will be different.

Hopefully.

“Wait a minute.” Afia sits up, looking over at Solana. “Did you….” She trails off, clearly not wanting to necessarily give away the specifics given the presence of the latest additions.

If only Dwayne felt the same.

“Yeah, they were fucking while she was away at treatment.”

“Dawyne.” Roman shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Guys.” Solana’s eyes widen in horror. She’s certain her cheeks must be flushed red. 

“A lot, too,” Mickie adds, making a face. “We could hear them.”

“Can we please change the subject?” Solana begs, hand over her face. 

“Or, ya’ll can all just get the hell out of my house.” Roman suggests. He sounds dead serious, too. She sighs loudly. Of course. “That’s an option, too.”

“I mean, sex is a natural thing,” Rhea shrugs, sitting on the loveseat with Stephanie. “Fucking is fun.”

Steve, however, starts coughing a bit. “Christ, Rhea.” He shakes his head, waving his hand. “Have some fuckin’ decency for your old man, kid.”

Hearing such differing accents, Stephanie sits forward, motioning between the two. “How are you two—”

“It’s a long story,” Rhea dismisses. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Solana would also love to learn that backstory. 

As the clock ticks on, nearing closer and closer, the groups unite, largely due to the true party nature the event takes on. A specifically curated playlist blasting a collective genre of tunes. R&B. Pop. Dance. Spanish. A perfect mixture, boasting some of the best songs, perfect and most fitting for the occasion. 

Happily, the gang mingles and dances, with the exception of a few folks, Roman and Matteo included. 

Though, Solana finds her heart swelling seeing those two interact. She’d briefly spoken with Afia about what she knew of their mother’s unexpected return, and it seemed Matteo was just as tight lipped as his brother.

It’s something, however, the women are not going to let go. They’ll be there for their husbands in any way they need and face whatever their mother re-entering their lives brings about. 

Together.

Solana’s smile is stapled as she dances playfully, sometimes sultry. The latter often earns her being pulled into her husband as he so eloquently reminds her just how she got pregnant in the first place.

But, when the music shifts to one of her favorite Celine Dion tunes, That’s The Way It Is, Solana becomes more aware of the time. It’s only a couple minutes until midnight, and for what feels like the twentieth time tonight, that familiar pressure on her bladder is begging to be tended to.

Solana breaks away, shuffling past her husband, heels long gone at that point. “I have to use the bathroom.”

He frowns. “Again?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not my fault that your daughters are sitting on my bladder.”

He says nothing, just moves his hand to her stomach. Her grin is small. It seems that’s become his favorite hand placement these days.

She leans up and kisses his cheek. “Be right back.”

Solana makes her way to one of the bathrooms on the first floor. 

There's something insanely relieving about removing that weight off her bladder, even if she knows it's bound to return within the hour, maybe two, if she's lucky. Regardless, it grants her some semblance of relief, and she'll take it all.

Solana flushes the toilet and moves over to the sink, squeezing out the strawberry shortcake scented hand soap into her palm. Hitting the knob with her wrist, she garners just enough water to build up a good lather. Washing her hands while humming along to the music that makes it through even the thick door, she turns off the water and reaches for the hand towel on the bar to the right of her.

Briefly, Solana's gaze falls onto herself in the mirror, and she freezes.

Time stands still, it seems, as she takes in her reflection.

Really looks at herself. Seeing herself for the first time in a long time. If ever.

Seeing not scars and flaws or the reflection of someone broken, damaged, unworthy of love and adoration.

She doesn't see that same 10 year-old girl who woke up one morning with hopes and plans for a brand new, brighter future only to wake up in a hospital and find not only was that future forever gone, but the one person who meant the most to her at the time was also gone.

She doesn't see the 12 year-old girl who wasn't even old enough to have had the talk about what sex is but had already been violated in the most unholy of ways, her innocence ripped away from her by pure evil.

She doesn't see the 16 year-old girl who'd grown too exhausted, felt far too heavy to continue to go on, to continue to live. Who'd ultimately made the decision to try to end her own life.

She doesn't see the 28 year-old thrust into an impossible situation, believing her only options were either kill or be killed, the latter of which, seeming more of a relief than anything.

She doesn't even see the 29 year-old woman who just months ago regressed so deeply that she'd once again tried to kill herself, because she felt the damage was too heavy, and life for everyone around her would be easier if she no longer existed.

She doesn't see any of that.

She doesn't feel any of that.

Solana sees a woman. A beautiful, strong, courageous woman who still has her struggles, will always have to battle her vices, but whose good far outweighs the bad. She sees a woman in love with a man who means more to her than words can describe. She sees a wife, a sister, a friend, a cousin.

A mother.

For the first time, Solana sees her.

When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt.

The woman her mother always said she would become.

Don't give up on your faith

Tears build in her eyes as she lifts one hand to her clavicle, ghosting her fingertips over the inked tattoo representing her better half. Her person. Her soulmate.

Love comes to those who believe it

Her other hand settles on her belly, the safe space where her girls grow stronger and bigger with each day that passes, preparing for their grand arrival into the world.

Her eyes shut.

"I did it, mommy," she murmurs, lifting her watery gaze to the ceiling with an emotional smile. "I got my happy ending."

And that's the way it is.

The sound of voices rising from where the bulk of the guests remain remind Solana of the countdown. Sniffling and shaking her head, her smile remains as she goes to open the door, hitting the light switch as she walks out.

A tiny gasp leaves her mouth, a brief pang of tension rising when she's grabbed, only for it to settle at the familiar set of hands grasping and gently spinning her so that she's backed against the wall.

Solana's smile widens as she looks up at her husband. "Hi."

Roman chuckles, as he stands before her, one hand going to cup her cheek, the other on her hip. "Hi."

"Ten!"

"Did I take too long?"

"Nine!"

He makes a sound, gaze softening. "You know I'd wait for you forever."

"Eight!"

Her smile deepens as she reaches up, wrapping her arms around him, her baby bump pressed against his stomach. "Good thing you don't have to."

"Seven!"

His eyes briefly dip to her belly. "Everything good?"

"Six!"

"No," she answers, softly. Naturally, his expression shifts to something close to concern. "It's perfect."

"Five!"

Roman's smile is small but oh-so-telling. He starts to dip his head towards hers when movement between them, felt by both, makes him pause. Naturally, Solana giggles, the two of them looking down.

"Four!"

"I'm telling you, it's Lina." His hand moves to her belly, feeling around to where one of their girls just kicked. She knows it's only one, because she's felt when it's both of them. Big difference. "She's gonna be active just like her daddy."

"Three."

At that, his smile deepens just a bit, his eyes flitting up to hers. "I love you."

"Two."

It doesn't seem to matter just how many times he says it. How many times she hears it. It never gets old.

Solana reaches behind his neck, lowering him so that their lips are only inches apart, his icy breath cool against her face.

"One!"

"I love you, too."

"Happy New Year!"

Fanfare and celebration from down the hall as the husband and wife celebrate privately, lips dancing in that sensual song of promise and oath. A declaration of love, now and forever.

Voy a reír

Voy a bailar

Vivir mi vida

Solana gasps and smiles against his mouth, hearing the familiar lyrics of another of her favorite tunes. "I love this song."

"Baby, you say that about every song."

Solana, rightfully, ignores him, stepping back and taking him by the hand. "Come on."

In true Roman nature, he protests. "I think I like it over here."

Again, he is ignored as she drags him back into the living room where the rest of the attendees celebrate. Old with young. Young with old. The children havinh awoken to bring in the new year with their parents and relatives.

Her abuela pulls her into a hug. Maternal and warm. Kissing her on the cheek and feeling on her stomach. 

Several hugs and various forms of acknowledgement. The affection and joy permeating the space, Solana filled with so much love and appreciation.

Happiness.

She feels happy.

Her smile remains stamped on her face as she moves back over to Roman who leans against the wall, watching her the entire time. Humming to the music, she moves her arms up his chest, swaying against him. 

Roman looks down at her, sensing her joy. “What is he saying?”

She smiles. He’s referring to the lyrics. 

Voy a reír

“I’m gonna laugh,” she translates. 

Voy a gozar, Vivir mi vida

Truer joy, peace, and gratitude have never existed nor been felt than in this moment. Unbreakable and unshakable peace as she shares what she feels and doesn’t plan to deter from ever again. 

Ever.

“I’m going to enjoy living my life.”

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

authors note: i sincerely and legitimately can't believe we've reached the end of book 1. i won't bore you all with my rambling. just wanna say thank you immensely to every single person who's read, liked, commented, and/or reblogged this story. it's been such a ride, and i'm so thankful for all the support and everyone who stuck it out with me to get to this point. 🥺

the proposal scene was never included in the original outline, but i've just been so thankful and grateful for all the support you all have shown my little story that i wanted to say thank you. also can't wait for ya'll to see her wedding dress that i've deadass had picked out for months lmao

possibly considering a oneshot/to show their love scene upon solana returning home, as it just didn't make the cut for this already long ass final chapter.

lastly, if you haven't heard already, there will be a sequel, book 2. first chapter should be out in a couple of weeks.

muchas gracias, amigas. ❤️