#please let me know if you want me to change anything! :)

[rafesangelita]

rafe + predator/prey with bambi?

warnings: dark!rafe (he’s nice at first), bratty behavior, dom/sub themes, slight arguing, shouting, manhandling, fear play, rafe chases you around tanneyhill, hide and seek, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, slapping, impact play (?), asphyxiation, lots of dirty talk, squirting, size kink, breeding kink, baby trapping threats, degradation

link: read more of bambi!reader here <3

w/c: 2.2k

rafe knew the second you slammed the door shut in his face that you had forgotten your place. all the soft, sappy sex you two had been indulging in had officially altered your brain chemistry into thinking you could lock him out of his room in his own house. “open this door, y/n.” rafe hadn’t raised his voice at you in a long time, and while he didn’t want to, it wasn’t long before he felt his patience running thin as you continued to ignore him and give him the silent treatment. you stood on the other side of the door, a pout gracing your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“i’m trying to sort this out with you, baby, but you’re making that really hard for me right now..” rafe spoke gently, his fists balling up at his sides. “you know.. the last thing i wanna come home to when i’ve had a rough day is an attitude and a temper tantrum.” he attempted to twist the door knob, your heart beating in your ears when it started rattling against the hardwood. “i’ve been so good with you, i think you’ve forgotten just how fast things can change, bambi.” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

of course you didn’t want to be on his bad side, but something about the way his voice dropped a few octaves as if he was giving you a warning made you step closer to the door. “open it or i’ll do it myself.” for a moment there, you almost did as he said, your hand reaching down for the door knob before you heard him whisper something underneath his breath. “fuckin’ brat.” you froze just as your fingers grazed the cold metal. he wasn’t going to like what you did next. taking a step back, you shuddered as you watched the shadow of his feet. “n-no.” you whimpered, your heart beating in your chest.

rafe laughed, his jaw ticking as he felt anger boiling underneath his skin. “what was that? what did you say?” surely he wasn’t hearing right. “i said no, rafe!” you yelled back, running to the corner of his room that was furthest from the door. that did it. rafe said goodbye to any kind of restraint he had left, deciding you were going to learn your lesson about saying that little two-lettered word to him. rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, rafe let out a breath before backing away. “are you near the door?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion at his question. “no—”

before you could say anything else, rafe barged in, knocking the hardwood off of its hinges as your hands shot up to cover your ears. you stared at him doe eyed and terrified, his eyes finding yours as he rolled his shoulders back. “i didn’t want to do that..” he stalked over to you, wrapping a hand around your throat before pressing you against the wall, “why do you have to make me be the bad guy, huh?” you gasped, clasping a palm around his wrist. “please— i’m sorry!” rafe stared you down, his eyes nothing but two black holes as his grip around your throat tightened.

“are you? it seemed like you just wanted to piss me off back there,” he dragged you towards his bed, throwing you down before pinning your elbows to the mattress and slotting himself between your thighs, “that goddamn silent treatment, you know i can’t stand that shit.” his face was centimeters away, his breath fanning your cheek as tears welled in your eyes. “you know what i have to do now, right?” you shook your head, fear bubbling in your chest as you remembered the last time he had to ‘punish’ you. “please! i’ll be good, rafe! ‘don’t want to make you mad anymore..”

closing the distance between you two, rafe kissed you softly, wiping away the stray tear that managed to roll down your cheek. “i’m gonna give you a ten second head start to run, and if you decide to hide instead, you better make sure i don’t fuckin’ find you,” he whispered against your lips, “now, get the fuck outta here.” rafe moved aside, your chest rising and falling as you slipped out of the room, your feet skittering across the floor as you started running away from him. you swore your heart was beating a million times per second, the fear of being caught making your blood run cold.

you had barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before you looked up and saw rafe making his way out of the room. he was far too fast for you to outrun him, panic setting in as you started scouring through the halls of tanneyhill. coincidentally, all of the rooms were locked. rafe must’ve did that when you first mouthed off to him, having known how this night would end. “please, please, please!” you struggled trying to open the door to each room only to fall short when the knobs didn’t even budge. “come on..” you whined, rounding the corner of the hallway.

“you look so pretty when you’re scared.” you spun around on your heels, a half scream leaving your lips as rafe started jogging down the long hallway. running across the kitchen, and into the living room, rafe’s laughter echoed throughout the house as he chased you around the couch. “you’re gonna fuckin’ get it.” as a last resort attempt to throw him off, you grabbed one of the pillows from the sofa and threw it at him so you could run up the stairs. just as he caught it, he tripped over his own feet before you made your way into his study, crawling underneath his desk.

clamping a hand over your mouth, you panted softly through your nose as rafe’s footsteps sounded up the staircase. “so you decided to hide after all, huh?” your heart was slamming against your ribcage as he got closer. “i was really hoping you didn’t do that.” he almost sounded apologetic as he stepped into the room next door. you removed your hand from your mouth, fiddling with the ‘R’ pendant on your necklace. “if i get my hands on you.. god, you might just hate me.” just as it sounded like he walked past the room you were in, your heart dropped to your stomach when the door suddenly opened.

rafe walked around, stopping right in front the desk. “one of my favorite things about you is your perfume. it’s so sweet, it’s almost like you leave a trail behind you everywhere you go..” you didn’t even get to react before he was pulling you out by your feet, your screams echoing in his ears. “you make it so easy, baby, it’s like you wanted to be caught.” he pulled you up by your arms, dragging you out of the study and back to his bedroom. he forced you down on your knees, grabbing ahold of your chin as he fumbled with his belt.

“wanna talk back when i’m being nice to you? fine. i’ll just put your mouth to better use.” he said through gritted teeth. clasping your hands behind your back, you gazed up at him through your eyelashes. “listen to me when i say this, yeah?” he slipped his thumb between your lips, “right now you’re not my pretty little girlfriend, alright? you’re a slut.” your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs, sitting back on your heels while you waited for rafe to stuff your throat full. upon his cock springing out of his pants, you whimpered pathetically at the butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

he stroked himself, a groan leaving his lips as he tapped his hardened cock against your tongue. “open that mouth, baby, you know how i like it.” you licked the tip, wrapping your lips around the throbbing head as he threaded his fingers in your hair. “i work all day, deal with my dad’s shit, fuck— all just to come home to that bratty behavior of yours..” he cursed under his breath as you took him deeper into your mouth. “ungrateful sluts like you deserve to be used like this.” you moaned around his length, your eyes widening when he hit the back of your throat.

“oh, my god,” rafe’s jaw went slack, his head tilting to the side as he watched you take him in and out of those pretty lips of yours. “look at me, give me those eyes.” you pulled away for a moment, gasping for air as you flashed your teary orbs at him. rafe didn’t know the logic behind it, but seeing you cry, so drunk off of his cock, he swore it was the hottest thing he’s ever seen. “holy, fuck!” he smiled down at you, his hips stuttering as you took him inch by glorious inch. “my greedy little cock whore, ‘doing so good for me.” you batted your eyes innocently, the action making him hiss.

“i wish you were good all the time, now i have to hurt you, bambi.” he pulled you up, lifting you off of the ground before slamming you down on the bed. you gasped at the impact, your boyfriend sliding your bottoms off before giving you a light smack across your cheek. “you’re so wet down here, baby. shit, you’re just glistening.” rafe tore your thighs apart, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off as you ran a foot down his toned stomach. he pinned your thighs to your chest, his hands resting on the back of your knees. “you want this?” he ran his cock between your folds.

your eyes fluttered shut, his tip grazing your needy clit. “please give it to me. ‘wanna be good for you again!” you cried, a sob ripping itself from your throat as he thrusted into you without warning. “fuck!” rafe covered your mouth, ripping your top off so he could watch your tits bounce underneath him. the slick sound of your cunt filled the space of rafe’s room, your cheeks heating as you listened to yourself make a mess on his cock. “so fuckin’ tight, you’re pulling me back in,” he groaned, “i might just fill you up, ‘trap you with my baby..” you moaned, unintentionally clenching around him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he pulled your hair, forcing you to look down at where you two were connected. you moaned, your lips parting as you watched him pull out and slowly slide back in. “this cock looks like it’s splitting you wide open,” he brought a hand down and started rubbing hard circles on your clit, “my pretty little thing.” you cried out, your back arching off of the mattress when you felt the familiar tension building in your core. his hand was damn near the size of your head, your eyes rolling back as his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust. “gonna.. oh, my god!”

rafe groaned when your orgasm hit you, a piercing scream leaving your lips as a stream of wetness soaked his lower abdomen. you laid there shaking, your nails raking down rafe’s chest as you sucked him in impossibly tighter. taking his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe didn’t slow down the work on your sensitive bundle of nerves, overstimulation setting in when you started taking the pleasure with the pain. “no more!” you gasped, your thighs closing around his waist as you attempted to squirm away from his touch. he slapped you across your cheek, forcing you to keep your eyes open.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it. this is what you wanted when you decided to act the way you were acting earlier, huh? shut the fuck up and take this cock.” he shoved your head into the pillows, the entirety of his palm covering your face as he chased his own high, ignoring your screams and cries. rafe watched the tears flow down your cheeks, his fingers becoming wet as he groaned at the sight. “keep crying for me and i’m gonna breed this fuckin’ cunt— ah fuckkk!” rafe leaned down, pressing wet kisses to your neck before his hips stuttered, his mouth falling open in a silent moan.

“fuckin’ hell!” he uncovered your face, admiring the pretty curve of your lips while he came, those gorgeous eyes just twinkling up at him while he filled you to the brim with his seed. rafe nestled himself deep inside of you, stilling his movements as you two reveled in the feeling of his cum painting the softness of your walls. looking into his eyes, you could see the exact moment he switched into being your boyfriend again, his gaze softening as he cupped your face, his cock still twitching inside of you. pulling out with a curse, rafe was quick to pull you against his chest.

“you okay, bambi?” he pecked your cheek, rubbing a hand against your side as you blinked, still unable to form thoughts as your body occasionally jolted with the aftershocks of your orgasm. you didn’t answer, instead you snuggled into his skin, your eyes shutting as sleep pulled at your lids. you were going to be so sore tomorrow, your muscles already aching as rafe pulled the comforter over the two of you.

[mapiforpresident]

No 23 prompt please with jana and reader both playing from u19 together to Barcelona and Falling in love for first time . R is a huge dork . Thanks.

You're such a dork

Jana x reader

~~~

You were sitting at your desk studying when you heard a slight knock on your office door and you turned your head to see your girlfriend stepping through the doorway with a plate of snacks in her hand. Jana gently set the plate down next to your computer before wrapping her arms around you from behind.

"Hola amor, what are you working on?" Jana asked as you turned your head to give her a kiss.

You smiled as Jana wrapped her arms around you, her warmth soothing the stress that had been building throughout your study session. The way she always seemed to show up at just the right moment made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“Hola, mi amor,” you replied softly, turning your head to press another quick kiss to her lips. “I’m just studying for this big history test. I feel like I’m drowning in flash cards.”

Jana chuckled, her fingers gently combing through your hair. “You always say that, but I know you’ll ace it. You’re the biggest dork I know, and I mean that in the best way possible.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the warmth of her words. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure I’m just making this harder than it has to be. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I’m glad you came by.”

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you alone to study forever,” Jana said, her voice teasing. “And besides, you deserve a little break.”

She picked up the plate of snacks and held it up in front of you, her eyes twinkling with a playful spark. “I brought you some fuel. You can’t keep working without food. That’s rule number one, right?”

You laughed and took a few of the snacks from the plate, grateful for the small gesture of care. “Thanks, babe. You always know how to make things better.”

Jana leaned down, resting her chin on your shoulder as she watched you nibble on the food. “Well, you’ve been working really hard lately. I wanted to make sure you take care of yourself. But also, I think it’s cute when you’re all stressed out, trying to figure things out like a dork.”

You rolled your eyes, though you were secretly thrilled by the way she teased you. “I’m serious! You don’t get it. I’m juggling so much right now, and I just want everything to go well.”

Jana pulled back slightly, her face turning soft with understanding. “I get it. But hey, you don’t need to do everything by yourself, okay? I’m here for you.”

Your heart swelled at the sincerity in her voice. She was calm, steady, and always made you feel like you weren’t alone in anything.

“I know. I guess I just sometimes feel like I need to be perfect,” you admitted, feeling vulnerable for a moment.

Jana smiled, her fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “Amor, you don’t need to be perfect. I fell in love with the biggest dork I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t change a thing. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you turned to face her, your heart beating a little faster. “I love you, Jana. You know that?”

She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I know. I love you too, dork.”

The two of you sat together for a while, sharing the plate of snacks and talking about everything and nothing, the way only you two could. It felt like time slowed down whenever you were with her, the world outside disappearing in a blur. In that moment, there was no test, no pressure, just the two of you.

It hadn’t always been like this, of course. You and Jana had known each other for years, since your U19 days at Barcelona. Back then, you were just two teammates on the same field, awkwardly laughing about misplaced passes or a bad goal attempt. You had bonded over your shared love of the game, your goofy personalities, and the way you both always managed to mess up in the most charming ways.

There had been a time when you hadn’t even realized what was growing between you and Jana. At first, it was just easy friendship and a mutual respect for each other’s skills and personalities. But somewhere along the way, that friendship had evolved into something deeper, something more.

The first time you’d caught yourself thinking about Jana outside of the context of football was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. You had been sitting in the locker room after a particularly grueling training session, distracted by the way Jana’s laugh sounded when she talked about the ridiculous prank she and Bruna had pulled on Pina. You had tried to focus on the game analysis in front of you, but all you could hear was Jana’s voice, light and carefree. Mapi had to elbow you before you realized she had asked you a question.

It hadn’t taken long after that for you to realize what was happening. You were falling for one of your best friends.

And that’s when the nervousness set in. You weren’t the kind of person who made the first move. You were awkward, fumbling over your words, and way too much of a dork to figure out the complicated world of relationships. But Jana had picked up on it, and in a way that only she could, she made the first step.

That night, after an intense match, she had pulled you aside in the locker room, her eyes soft but intense. “Y/N,” she had said, her voice low, “I think I like you.”

Your heart had nearly stopped at those words. You had stammered out something about being confused, but she had simply kissed you, gently, without hesitation. It was everything you’d imagined and more, and suddenly, the awkwardness of it all melted away.

After that, things had shifted. You weren’t just teammates anymore, you were partners, both on and off the field. There was a comfort in being with Jana that you couldn’t explain. She made you feel seen, loved, and appreciated for every quirky, dorky thing you did.

And now, sitting in your room, studying for a test that you didn’t feel prepared for, Jana was right there beside you, proving once again that you didn’t have to be perfect.

“Promise me you’ll take a break after this?” Jana asked, her voice soft but serious.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “I promise.”

Jana kissed you on the forehead, the sweet gesture making your heart swell with affection. “Good, my favorite dork."

You let out a laugh, resting your head on her shoulder. “And you’re my favorite person.”

[rebelssvy]

you x your fave MHA man

LABELS: fucking sex. fucking you in heat. pov you get hit with a quirk that makes you all hot and bothered.

-chat i ate this up!

here you were, getting undressed by your childhood crush in the comfort of an empty changing room at your agency. you had been shot with a random quirk during a raid. you passed out during all of it.

the last thing you remembered he had swept you up into his arms and got you here.

you didn’t know what was happening to you.

your back arched off the bench, you refused to let go of him. you felt how soaked you were through your suit.

you grabbed every part of him.

“fuck i’m soso so sorryyyy-! i don’t know what’s happening to me.” you moaned out to him. he stood above you, slicking down your hair that had poked up during the fight.

“it’s ok. are you hurt? how do you feel?” he said through concerned eyes. staring down at you.

“i feel like i need your cock.” you said with full confidence before slapping both your hands over your mouth.

he looked down at your with desire and an open mouth. he didn’t say anything before shaking his passion. he reminded himself, it’s just the quirk after effects making you say this.

“i’m so so sooo sorry… i shouldn’t have said that.. but im just being honest i don’t know what to do” you moaned out again. your hands slowly making their way to your own body. grabbing at the fabric.

you felt hot. like you needed it all gone. you needed it off of you. asap.

“can u pleaseee help me.. oh my god.. fuck let me suck you off pleaseeee” you said up to him with puppy eyes.

it was truly a sight to see. and well, this was his dream. you begging to suck him off, your skin glowing with desire.

“if you think it’s gonna make you feel better…. i mean.. i guess you can-“ before he finished his sentence you were pulling his pants down. you wasted no time before licking his length with your tongue.

opening your mouth as much as you could you stuck his cock down your throat as much as you could.

“oh my god.. fuckkk y/n” he grabbed onto your hair bobbing your head back and forth.

you sucked as much as your could. you wanted all of him.

he pulled out. grabbing your jaw he tilted his head down to stare at you. you looked up at him with your mouth still wide open. you stuck your tongue out for him.

“let me fuck you.” he said before pulling you up to take off your suit.

“yes yes yes yes please fuck me that’s all i want!” you moaned out grabbing at the fabric he still had on his body.

he stopped all action, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a heated kiss.

pulling apart, “you getting hit with that quirk was the best thing that’s ever happened.. fuck” he said before making his way to suck on your neck.

you moaned at the contact, bringing your hands down to grab at his freed cock. squeezing the top of this length. pre-cum oozing out of it. he gasped at the touch.

“i’ve dreamed of this far longer then just today…” you said while your suit dropped off your body. you were now fully unclothed.

he stared at you with passion in his eyes. you broke the silence again.

“i dreamed about sucking you off under your desk in highschool.” you admitted.

before you knew it he picked you up. it was all happening to quickly. all you needed was relief.

twisting your body into a full nelson. your body pressed against his. he had both your legs, so you were spread full open.

you moaned out again.

“please please please put it in let me feel your cock” you mumbled out. flushed.

“whatever you say doll…” he said grabbing his cock, pressing it against your entrance.

it was filthy. him having you all wrapped up like this. but you were begging for it.

his cock plunged in and out of you. balls slapping your skin with each movement.

“oh yeah? you fucking like that?” he groaned at you spreading you as wide as you could.

you moaned out to him as a response. you couldn’t comprehend anything.

he hit all your deepest angles. you were on full display.

this was so naughty. and too think a quirk caused this? you would consider yourself blessed.

“fuck your so tight for me aren’t cha’?” he said to you in a condescending manner. making you clench around his length.

“mmm… i-i’m closeee”you warned him.

“cmon then…” he groaned softly, “cum around my cock.”

he demanded it. and so you did.

cumming around him, you moaned out ‘thanks you’’s and how your ‘all his’. your body spasming through your orgasm, as he fucked you through your high.

finally he set you down on the bench, you all fucked out like this, he couldn’t stop himself.

jerking himself off, to your face.

of course, he had to finish on your face.

even fucked out as you were you opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out. catching all the cum you could.

“thank fuck for that quirk” he said before wiping his own cum off your cheek.

“mmm… thank fuck for you” you said with a smile.

……………………………………………………………………………..

- i was personally thinking of katsuki. but that’s just me. LOLLLL comment who you thought about!!!

[hornyswitch]

Put me in front of a spiral.

I'll try to resist first, I don't want to give up, I know you're gonna corrupt me and change me ‐ grab my chin and force me to watch it.

Keep whispering things in my ears. Keep repeating mantras until I start to be still in your arms. Until I start to drool and let my tongue out. Until I leak on your leg and I let you choke me. Until I suck your fingers just because you put them in front of my face.

Then put me on my all fours still in front of a spiral and tease me - don't fuck me, not yet, I don't deserve it. Keep telling me that good toys obey, good toys let their minds go away. Watch me try to rub against anything. Make me loose my words, make me bark and whine like a good puppy. Then fuck me roughtly until I cry but don't make me cum - good toys don't cum.

I'm yours now. I'm your puppy. I'm your slut. Please use me and destroy me 💞

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty eight

authors note: the infamous "discussion" has arrived.....

cw/tw: angst, graphic scenes depicting pregnancy complications

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

***gif courtesy of the lovely @dejameflorecer ***

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 10k

There are a couple different ways Solana played out the moment she would tell Roman about her pregnancy. Several cute ideas she entertained to break the news him. A cake that was half pink, half blue. Taking drugstore pregnancy tests and presenting them to him. She even considered coming up with a drawing of some sort. Regardless, with all of her ideas, there was a major theme of happiness.

And special.

She wanted it to be special. 

However, there’s absolutely nothing special about how this has played out. Nothing happy about it. 

She feels awful.

Because not only has he found out about her pregnancy in the most inconvenient way, he's found the letter too.

It couldn't have gone any worse than this.

Sniffling, Solana struggles with just how to respond to his question. “Roman, I—” 

He lifts the papers, asking in a steel voice, “where did you get this?”

Silence.

For some reason, speaking is a difficult, tricky task that has her trembling and stammering. “I—” Pause. “I—” Another pause. “She—” Another pause followed by her shutting down altogether, eyes closing. 

“Solana.” Hate. She hates the way he’s saying her name right now, the almost distaste present in his voice and painted on his face. “I asked you a question.”

And, he deserves an answer. He deserves a lot of answers right now. Taking a deep breath, she manages to pull it together just enough to finally answer him. “Fetu…..she…..she gave it to me.”

“When?”

Eyes closing once more, Solana responds in that same, small voice, “when you took me to meet her…..”

It’s an answer, the truth, but it’s not anything that seems to chunk away at his anger. “You’ve had this that long?” Closing the door behind her, she finds herself moving towards him. “You kept this from me—”

She sniffles, stopping in the middle of the room. “Roman, please—I—I can explain.”

“Explain? What the fuck is there to explain, Solana?” He snaps, and she finds herself jumping as he throws the papers onto the floor. “You had no right to keep this from me!”

“I was worried about you, okay!” She cries, trying to find her own voice and way to explain her thought process. “You were in such a bad place, Roman. I didn’t know if—if it would make things worse!”

His eyes widen ever so slightly. “How the fuck could a letter from my aunt who I just lost and didn’t get to say goodbye to make things worse?”

“Because I didn’t know what was in it!” She matches his tone and volume, unwilling to just let him explode on her without her even having a chance to explain. “Because Fetu gave it to me. Not you. She gave it to me and asked me to give it to you when I felt the time was right.”

“Yeah, because your judgment is so fucking good.”

Another pause. Hurt. She’s hurt by his cruelty in this moment. “That’s not fair.” Because it isn’t. Because she understands his emotions, but the way he’s expressing himself, the hurtful things that he’s saying are uncalled for. “That’s not fair at all, Roman. And you know it.” She shakes her head and gestures to herself. “I did what I did out of love and concern.”

“And this?” Solana stills as he reaches for the sonogram, holding it up between them. “Was keeping this from me out of love and concern?” Her eyes shut once more, emotion building, tears brewing. “I’m going to ask you this one time and one time only.” It’s just a second of a delay, but it feels like an eternity. “Are you pregnant?”

Excited. Nervous. Relieved. Happy.

These are just a several of the emotions Solana expected to feel in the moment and space where she shared this life changing news with her husband. There was even a part of her that anticipated him having not much of a reaction, because she knows feelings are hard for Roman. Knows that him learning to love and be okay with loving her took some time. Thus, him needing time to process this news was also a potential outcome. So, yes, she didn’t have this fantasy of this being the perfect moment.

But, this……this moment is the last thing she expected.

The last thing she ever wanted. 

Eyes closed, heart breaking, Solana answers, “yes.” Her chest feels tight, her stomach in all kind of knots. “I’m—I’m ten weeks.”

Silence

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t necessarily have to because the moment Solana reopens her eyes and sees him, that’s all she needs to see.

He looks gutted.

It must be a good minute or two before he asks in a low voice. “How long?” Her lack of an immediate response prompts him to ask again. “How long have you known, Solana?”

God, she feels miserable. Fingers grasping with the material of her dress, she stammers, “I–I started to suspect a couple weeks—”

“Weeks?” Again, another wide eyed, floored expression. “You’ve known about this for weeks and you didn’t say anything?”

“I—I went to Dr. Michaels and asked for a pregnancy test, because I didn’t—I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.” She adds on, almost desperately, “because I know how hard it must have been for you justifying and defending me not being pregnant yet.” Sniffling, her mind goes back to that night that was the perfect, heartbreaking combination of joy and devastation. “But, the same night I got the results back was the same night I got the call about Fetu, and it just—it was all just so much.” Because it was and still is. Solana’s voice cracks as she shares, “it felt wrong to tell you we've created life when you just lost it, Roman.”

The shattered expression on her husband’s face, however, is unchanging as he asks, “you told my doctor before you told me?” For all her efforts to be completely honest and forthcoming with him in this moment, it seems like every response she gives only digs the hole deeper. “Who else have you told?”

“Nobody!” She answers, desperate for him to know that despite how bad this situation is, this isn’t something that she’s been spreading and sharing freely. “I told your doctor, and he gave me the referral to the OB. And……and I had to tell Dr. Stratus—”

Roman stands up from the bed, his back toward her as he paces in a focused area of the room. “All these fucking people…..”

Solana hugs herself tighter, a slight attempt to self-soothe as she can feel her anxiety increasing by the second. “It’s only been the medical professionals, Roman. I haven’t said anything to Bayley, to Naomi. I just—I wanted to tell you first!”

“But, you didn’t, Solana.” He snaps, piercing gaze on her. “You kept me in the dark!” It’s taking everything in her to not break down in front of him, to not let the weight of the situation overwhelm her, because again, his emotions are valid. But his communication, so harsh, is crushing. “You kept the letter from me, you kept your pregnancy from me, what the fuck else have you been keeping from me!”

“Nothing!” She shouts back, her feelings shifting yet again from hurt to angry. Frustrated. Solana feels so damn frustrated. They can talk, they can argue, but she cannot handle this accusatory tone he’s taken. “You get to be angry with me. You have a right to be angry with me. But, you don’t have the right to yell at me and act like I did what I did out of spite. I was worried sick about you and didn’t know what else to do, okay?”

And that, along with everything else she’s said thus far is the God’s honest truth. She didn’t know what the hell to do, so she did her best and what felt the best option in the moment. 

Clearly…..very clearly, she was wrong.

“Ro…..” Solana continues, pleading almost, “you were in such a bad place, I felt like I had no other options.”

His eyes tell all the story. “And what do you think this puts me in, huh?” He looks just as frustrated as he speaks more to himself than her. “I started…..started to suspect that you were, but I pushed it away, because I knew—I thought you would tell me.” Another look of disdain and disgust. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

There’s something about his words, about all of the words and statements and accusations that causes Solana to lose the already grip she had on her emotions. It’s not really until this second that she allows herself to freely express how she feels versus focusing on helping him understand. 

“Do you think I liked keeping this from you?” A whispered, rhetorical thing weighed down by weeks of pent up emotions and hidden struggles. “Do you think I liked hiding the fact that while you’re working out or handling business or sleeping, I’m hunched over a toilet puking my brains out because I’ve had terrible morning sickness? Or the fact that I had less than an hour to be happy about my pregnancy because right after I found out Fetu was dying? That I liked being alone at our babies’ first appointment?” At this point, she’s no longer focused on him, on his reaction, because this is her space to now to speak freely and openly about all the things she’s been experiencing the past few weeks. “I’ve hated every second of this, Roman! The lying, the secrets, all of it! It’s not me, and you know it, but I did it because I was looking out for you! Because I was trying to do what’s best for you, because I fucking love you! Sometimes more than I love myself!” She throws her hands up, tears flowing freely. “And you want to talk about keeping things from people?” Anger is imbued in her voice as she demands. “Roman, how many things have you kept from me? Huh? How many times have you lied to me?”

His voice is slightly calmer and quieter than it’s been the entire conversation. “That’s different, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not!” Scoffing, Solana is no longer interested in trying to explain her reasons when it’s obvious he’s not interested in listening to her. “You keep things from me all the time because you think you’re protecting me, like—like I can’t handle it!”

“Because you can’t, Solana!”

“That’s not for you to decide!” It never was. “Don’t you realize that the more you hide from me, the more I worry? Like your blood pressure. Roman, I asked you about that, and you lied to my face. You lied to me.”

A slight pause. “How the hell do you know about that?”

“Why does that matter?” Her eyes widen at the fact that that is the question he decided to ask versus focusing on the issue at hand. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

He runs his hand through his hair that’s down and hanging as he shouts, “I didn’t want you to worry!” His voice is slightly lowered as he adds, “I had it handled.”

“No, you didn’t, and that was the problem!” Her volume increases as she covers her face with her hands, feeling so overwhelmed by all of this. “You try to handle everything on your own, and you can’t and that’s okay, because you’re just a human being, Roman. But, what’s not okay is to keep lying to me. Yes, I kept these things from you, but I’ve been honest about everything else. You have a pattern of lying and not telling me things not just because you don’t want to worry me, you do it because you don’t trust me!”

“That’s not—”

“Why don’t I know where my own medicine is, huh?” Because the minute they returned home from Fetu’s place, the medicine, her medicine, that she’d been administering to herself the whole week they were gone was now nowhere to be found. Only for it, her exact morning dosages, to be ready and waiting on her nightstand the next day. “Why have I never been able to drive myself to my own therapy appointments? Why did my husband’s doctor have to tell me the truth about your blood pressure before you did?”

He closes his eyes, fingers pressed to his temple, “Solana, stop.”

“Just admit it!” She can’t be quiet, even if she wanted to, because it’s all just too much. It’s all come to this very moment where everything is laid out on the table. Where all of the feelings, both pregnancy and life fueled, cause her cup to spill over. “You don’t trust me, Roman, and you can say it’s because of the pregnancy and Fetu’s letter, but we both know the truth. What it really is.”

And, it’s the flash in his eyes, something a mixture of something she can’t identify but understands that is her confirmation. “Just—just say it!” She’s a crying, shouting mess, a perfect correspondence to the weight of the tension that fills the room right now. “Say—”

“Fine! You want me to say it, I’ll fucking say it!” He finally breaks, voicing the words he’s clearly been suppressing for months. “How the hell am I supposed to trust you when you tried to kill yourself! When you tried to leave me!”

Silence.

It’s that piece. That one piece that’s needed to complete the puzzle, to finalize the picture, to fill in the blank. But, it’s a completion that crushes her. The fact that he’s finally acknowledged it, the pain in his voice, the hurt on his face. 

Nodding to herself, Solana is finding it even harder to put words together that accurately describe what she’s feeling in this moment. “It always—” Her voice cracks, crumbling under the tonnage of devastation. “It always goes back to that, doesn’t it?” He says nothing nor is he looking at her, his gaze instead focused on the ground. “It doesn't….it doesn’t matter what I do, the work I’ve put in, how many times I’ve apol—” She slaps her hand over her mouth, holding back a sob. A deep, heavy breath followed by a heartbreaking question. “Roman…..what kind of marriage can we have if you don’t trust me?”

To be fair, she’s not sure what kind of response she was wanting from him. What would have been comforting or even helpful for her to hear. But, that’s irrelevant and immaterial. 

It’s irrelevant and immaterial because he doesn’t say anything.

And that….that has to be the most heartbreaking thing to come out of all of this.

Wordlessly, Solana turns away to walk out the room, silently hoping—praying—he calls after her, that he moves quick enough to gently grab and turn her around. That he so tenderly cups her face and kisses her forehead, telling her that they can figure this out, that they can work through this. 

But, none of that happens. 

He says and does nothing. 

Just lets her walk out.

————

Years.

It’s been years since Roman has felt this overwhelmed. Since he’s felt so out of control. 

Since he’s felt lost.

And it’s the first time in a long time he’s not been able to go to his aunt for advice.

Fingers gripping the steering wheel, he easily switches from one lane to another, speeding past the fucking Honda in front of him that doesn’t seem to understand what a fast lane is.

It’s a silly, minimal thing to be irritated over, but he’s him, and he’d gladly welcome anything other than what he’s feeling right now. 

To push away the sight of Solana’s devastated expression when he finally admitted his not trusting her. 

A surprise to himself, in some ways.

He’s always thought his refusing to allow her access to medication, not letting her drive herself to therapy and other acts were done out of love. Came from a place of protection and rightful due diligence. And all of that can be true along with the fact that, again, in some ways, he doesn’t trust her.

Doesn’t trust that she won’t try to hurt herself again.

That she won’t try to leave him again. 

Arriving at his destination, a lookoff about twenty minutes from the house, a secluded place that allows for a safe sorting of all his thoughts and feelings. Roman puts the car in park and hits the lights before shutting off the engine. 

Eyes closed, head back against the headrest, only one word comes to his mind: fuck. 

The past two weeks have been some of the hardest of his life, and the fact that losing the person he’d normally confide in about how fucked up he feels just makes things infinitely harder.

He hates every single part of this.

Hates how hard he came at Solana, how she kept these things from him, how he has been keeping things from her.

It’s all just so messy and complicated. Some of it of his doing, some of it of hers.

But, what he’s realizing he hates even more is not knowing everything that she’s been dealing with while pregnant. 

She was pregnant when he hit her.

She was pregnant when he left her to go to Italy, even after she begged him to stay and work things out.

She was pregnant when he destroyed Fetu’s house in his state of grief and rage, a mess she had to clean up.

She’s been pregnant and apparently sick from said pregnancy while comforting and taking care of him.

It’s all been on her, and she hasn’t said a word because she’s been trying to protect him.

Yet despite all that, he’s still hurt. Hurt that he wasn’t the first person she told about them expecting. And logically, it makes no sense. He knows his wife. Knows why she made the decision she made, even with the letter.

Fetu giving it to her, leaving it up to her to decide when to give it to him, makes all the sense in the world.

Especially given the content in said letter.

But, it still fucking hurts.

Hurts that she’s been going through all of this alone. Because he’s only ever wanted to help and support her, and in a time where she’s probably needed it more than ever, he’s been MIA.

Too lost in his own feelings and grief to pay attention to what was happening before his very eyes. 

And then brings on the guilt. The guilt of not supporting her the way she’s been supporting him, of not trusting her the way that she trusts him.

That’s something else he can’t not think about and focus on.

Trust.

Up until this point, he thought he’d “moved past” her suicide attempt. Thought whatever feelings that still lingered there were inconsequential. Though that is clearly not the case.

He still very much has not fully processed it, and it’s been prevalent in all the ways Solana pointed out.

He does hide her medication from her, hides all the pills in the house, and he doesn’t allow her to take herself to her own therapy and psychiatrist appointments. And to some extent, administering her pills came less from a place of what he was told by Stratus and more from a place of his comfort.

The same way counting her pills does.

And all of that very much does come from a place of trust. A lack of trust. 

A lack of trusting her to not try to take her life again.

To not leave him. 

Because that’s what it boils down to. His fear not just of losing her, but of her leaving him.

The same way his family did.

But, in a cruel twist of fate and potentially irony, as he sits in the car instead of being at the house with his wife trying to actually talk through these things, Roman realizes he does the same thing.

He leaves.

He left he when he was trying to figure out whether to tell her about Xavier being behind her rape and her mother’s murder.

He left when he accidentally hit her and couldn’t stand to be around her, to be reminded of the pain he’d inflicted on her even when she tried her damn hardest to help him not feel so guilty.

He tried to leave, in a sense, when he kept pushing her away in her attempts to help him process Fetu’s death.

And he’s left just now when the very thing he should have done is stayed.

Sure, in one of those examples, he left to receive clarity. To pick his aunt’s brain over what he should do, but in the rest, he left because he was avoiding things.

The same way he’s avoiding things now. 

And it doesn’t work. 

It never has, and it never will.

Beyond that, it’s messing with his marriage, forming cracks that will continue to grow until it all comes down, shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Roman can’t have that.

He won’t.

Because as fucked up and confused as he feels right now, it won’t get better by sitting in this fucking car. 

This can only be fixed by talking with and to the one person he keeps walking away from.

His wife.

Roman doesn’t hesitate to start the car back up and get right back on the route that took him to where he ran away to in the first place. The drive back to the house consists of him mentally going over what he wants to say, how he wants to say and what he wants to tackle.

And at the top of all that is an apology. 

She deserves that and so much more.

But, the minute he steps into the house, the plan is shelved. Tossed to the back of the line, because he’s barely in the doorway when Dulce is moving her little self down the steps, whimpering along the way. 

Roman frowns. “What’s wrong?”

She reaches the floor and runs up to him, hitting his legs, barking at him followed by more whimpering. And when she turns around to return up the steps, looking back at him as if to make sure she’s following him, he knows.

Knows that something is wrong. 

“Solana.”

And just like that, Roman is following this little dog who is clearly hellbent on guiding him somewhere.

Or to someone. 

On the second floor, Dulce is panting as she runs down the hall to the master bedroom, Roman right behind her as she rushes into the room and makes a right for the master bathroom where she stops. 

Roman is standing in the doorway of the bathroom when he freezes, partially incapable of processing the scene before him.

“No….”

Solana is on her knees on the bathroom floor, hunched over, dressed in only her bra and underwear. She’s trembling, one hand on her stomach, the other hand planted on the natural stone flooring. Flooring that has bright red liquid glistening off of it, liquid that’s dripping down her inner thighs, a large splotch of red covering the crotch of her underwear. 

She’s bleeding.

Dulce sits besides her, whimpering and attempting to lick her arm. 

It’s only when the shock of the visuals wear off that he becomes tuned to the fact that she’s crying and hyperventilating, stammering, “I can’t—I can’t lose them.”

Them

The babies. 

Roman takes a few steps back into the room to shout out the open door, “get the car ready!” He grabs a random jacket out of his closet and moves back over to the bathroom.

Placing the jacket to the side, he’s on the floor, by her side, “Solana—”

Gasping, she shakes her head, looking at him with puffy, teary eyes. She's a mess. “I’m—I’m s��sorry. I—” 

“Shhhh,” he comforts her, pushing back some of her hair. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be alright, okay?” 

She’s crying even harder as he moves to stand her up, but she’s shaking her head, clearly not thinking straight, as she seemingly protests. “I—I can’t—please—” She cries out in pain again, almost falling over, but he’s quick and has her in his arms. Solana’s head is against his shoulder as she grasps at his arm. Roman is uncaring of the blood on her palm that’s now on him. 

It’s not important.

What’s important is getting her help.

And fast.

“Solana, listen to me, I’ve gotta get you to the hospital, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she cries into him, Roman suddenly having the hardest fucking time holding it together in a moment where he absolutely has to be the sound one here. “I’m sorry.”

Roman kisses her temple. “You’re gonna be fine.” One arm supporting her, the other reaches for the jacket to place it around her. Once she’s covered up well enough, he’s gentle and careful in the way he helps her stand only to quickly pick her up bridal style. 

“Stay,” he directs the command to Dulce who lays on the bathroom floor with her ears down, still whimpering. 

He’s carrying her out the room and down the steps to the SUV that’s already waiting for them. Bautista opens the back door, concern in his brown eyes as Roman instructs, “get in touch with the Bloodline OB. Have her meet us at the hospital.”’

There’s questions Roman didn’t get the chance to ask, questions such as the name of the doctor that Solana saw, but given that he does know she went to and received the referral from Michaels, there’s no doubt in his mind he sent her to the Bloodline’s OB.

He just hopes the woman can get there in time.

Roman doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything except his wife who clings to him, silently crying into his chest, continuing to murmur apologies and sayings in Spanish. 

A prayer, it sounds like.

And for the first time in a long time, he closes his eyes and mentally does the same.

————

Solana is taken back immediately, largely because Roman demands as such, and one only needs an order barked at them once from the Tribal Chief to know he means business. 

“Mrs. Reigns, can you tell us what’s going on?” Someone asks as he carefully lays Solana down on the medical bed, and the question instantly has him scowling.

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” He snaps, cognizant of how Solana instantly reaches for his hand, holding it tightly. 

“I’m—I’m cramping bad and—and bleeding,” she answers through her tears, Roman unaware why hearing her state as such hits him so hard. It’s not like he can’t see what’s going on, but there’s just something significantly worse about her actually saying it.

It makes it that much more real.

“When did this start?” Another nurse or maybe doctor, shit should he know, asks as they start rolling her back. 

“Half–half an hour ago. I was going to take a shower when I first felt the cramps and then I saw that—that I was a bleeding—” She starts hyperventilating again, asking through infrequent breaths, “am I—am I having a miscarriage?”

Of all the things said and heard tonight, that…..that has to be the hardest of them all.

Roman doesn’t…..he can’t allow himself to imagine that could be what’s occurring, even if….if that’s what the signs point to.

An older nurse is the one to speak up, “let’s not go there just yet, okay, honey? Bleeding and cramping during a pregnancy doesn’t always mean a worst case scenario.”

The words are objectively reassuring but do little to abate the anxiety he’s masterfully hiding for a variety of reasons with the main one being he needs to maintain his composure for his wife’s sake.

Finally in the room, Roman watches closely as they work to change her into a hospital gown, hook her to an IV, and take her blood pressure, one of the nurses calling out, “140 over 90” followed by the older one advising, “Mrs. Reigns, your blood pressure is considered high for a pregnant woman. I know you’re scared and upset, but I need you to take some deep breaths for me, alright?”

And then someone has the fucking audacity to say to Roman, “would you like to wait for her in—”

Roman is briefly considering murder, on the verge of a vicious, verbal assault when Solana is the one to protest. Shaking her head, she squeezes his hand even tighter. “No! I need him!” Terrified gaze falling on him, she begs, “please—please don’t leave me.”

Moving his free hand to her forehead, he vows, “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He’s partially relieved to see her relieved by this. Roman lifts his now hardened gaze to the staff, “where the fuck is her doctor?”

Because he’s almost certain, if the doctor who Solana saw earlier that day was present, his wife would have had a reaction of some sort. Or, at least the doctor would have addressed her differently.

And none of that has happened, so Roman is livid.

A brave—or stupid—nurse speaks up, “Dr. Sharmell is coming. She was in the middle of a del—”

“Do you think I give a fuck about that?” His voice is filled with disgust that matches the disdain written all over his face. “I want her here now.”

Another nervous clearing of a voice. “Sir, there is another OB on staff, Dr. Miz, but your wife’s chart says no men on her care team, unless—”

“No,” Roman shoots that down instantly. 

To be fair, if this was any other type of medical emergency, Roman might agree, might work to help Solana understand this is a necessity. And it’s not that they’re not currently in the midst of a medical emergency, because they clearly are. But, he knows his wife. She’s already freaking out, her blood pressure raised which is exacerbating the situation, and having a man evaluate her in that manner is only bound to make things significantly worse.

“Solana.”

A new voice enters the conversation, a middle aged black woman walking in, the group almost naturally clearing a path as she walks over to the bed. “It’s Dr. Sharmell.”

And the reaction Roman was anticipating finally occurs, Solana turning to her and crying again. “Something’s wrong with the babies.”

It’s this, this heartbreaking statement that confirms what Roman thought he saw in her sonogram photo but wasn’t entirely sure. What he heard Solana say just earlier.

Two.

There’s two babies.

She’s pregnant with twins. 

This….this just got infinitely worse. 

“That’s what I’m here to see about,” this doctor says in a calming voice, glancing at the machines that his wife is plugged up to. “Her BP is too high. Give her 5mg of diazepam and 400mg of acetaminophen for the pain.”

“Sweetie, I need you to listen to me.” Dr. Sharmell’s voice is somehow the perfect combination of pressing and comforting. “I need to examine you, and I know you’re uncomfortable with a transvaginal ultrasound, but for me to get the best look, I need—”

“It’s okay,” Solana interrupts, shaking her head and squeezing his hand again. “Just—just do it.”

Dr. Sharmell doesn’t seem to question it, just nods and goes to pull a machine over as she moves to get started. 

Roman doesn’t leave his wife’s side, thumb gently caressing her knuckles as he watches her close her eyes and lean her head back. Her discomfort is palpable and blaring, and it kills him to not be able to take away her pain.

It kills him to see her like this. 

“What are you doing to her?” Because she’s already in pain, and if this woman is about to do anything to make that shit worse, he’s about to cause a ruckus.

The doctor continues to prepare for whatever she’s about to do while explaining said procedure. “It’s an ultrasound done through the vaginal canal.” 

It’s that explanation along with seeing the probe Dr. Sharmell is holding that helps Roman understand why Solana was uncomfortable with this. 

He moves his hand back to her forehead, murmuring, “it’s okay.”

It’s not, but he doesn’t know what else to do. How else to make the ‘best’ of this nightmare of a situation. He’s observant of the moment Solana is “penetrated,” seeing the small wince on her face and the way she tenses. 

Fuck. He hates this. 

Hates it with everything in him.

“There it is….” Dr. Sharmell speaks to herself, looking over at the screen.

Roman immediately asks, “what’s wrong?”

The word ‘wrong’ is clearly not the best choice because Solana is sniffling again, asking that devastating question, “am—am I having a mis–miscarriage?”

The answer comes relatively quickly but feels like it’s taken an eternity to arrive. “No, Solana, you’re not having a miscarriage.”

Roman’s eyes shut as he takes in the powerful and borderline overwhelming relief he feels at hearing those words. At hearing that this isn’t that. In a situation that’s arguably one of the worst he’s been in, that response is one of the best he’s ever received.

“What you are having is what we call a Subchorionic Hemorrhage. It means there’s blood forming between your babies’ amniotic sac and the uterine wall, which is why you’re bleeding. Cramping isn’t as common of a symptom, but it can happen. This obviously isn’t anything any pregnant woman would want to experience, but it happens more than people realize. And listen—” She gestures to the monitor, both Roman and Solana focusing on the screen and the sound.

A rhythmic beating.

Roman is the first to speak. “Is that….”

Dr. Sharmell nods. “That’s the sound of your babies’ heartbeats. Strong as ever.”

And it’s that last sentence that seems to provide Solana an abundance of relief, as she takes a deep, shaky breath covering her mouth to conceal a sob that comes from a place of joy versus despair.

Roman has so much to take in in this moment. 

She’s not miscarrying.

She’s pregnant with twins.

Twins whose heartbeats he’s currently listening to.

It’s all so….strange and unbelievable and stirring up a new cocktail of emotions he manages to push back. For now….at least.

Because pushing shit back, avoiding shit….it’s partially why they’re here right now.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “so how do we fix it?”

Shaking her head, she removes the probe, a nurse taking it from her while she takes off her gloves. “Unfortunately, there is no cure, but these things usually go away on their own. Typically in a matter of weeks. What we do recommend is bedrest, pelvic rest specifically, so no sex, no heavy lifting. Lots of fluids, and I’ve already scheduled your wife for appointments every two weeks given it’s a multiples pregnancies, so I’ll already be monitoring her closely.”

It makes sense, but it’s also not the type of answer he was hoping for. Nevertheless, it’s a much better outcome than the grim alternative.

She moves to the side of the bed, speaking directly to Solana, “now you might start bleeding again, though judging by the size of the hematoma, I wouldn’t anticipate as much as you’ve experienced this time. Just treat it like you would a menstrual cycle, pads only, no tampons, and make sure to call me and let me know if it’s happening again, alright?” Solana nods, a sudden quietness about her that Roman would guess is one of the medications she was given kicking in. “I’m gonna keep you here overnight for observation, but I have no doubt you’ll be ready to be discharged come morning."

“Thank you,” Solana whispers, voice laden with appreciation and comfort. “Thank you so much.”

Roman looks at his wife, informing, “I’ll be right back, okay?” He waits for her to nod, to show confirmation before he looks over at the doctor and gestures to the door.

Dr. Sharmell gives a small nod and makes a few comments to the remaining nurses before heading in that direction.

It’s once they’re outside the room, Roman crosses his arms, asking in a low, pained voice, “can stress cause this?”

It’s a question he’s been sitting on since finding his wife, crying and bleeding on the bathroom floor. His knowledge base is large and broad, but medical shit is where it’s relatively limited. Not limited enough to not know stress can cause pregnancy complications.

And Solana has had no shortage of that the past few weeks, this evening specifically.

Because of him.

But, he’s taken a bit by surprise when she answers with a simple, “no.” She mimics his stance, also crossing her arms while explaining, “but we’re also still not sure specifically what causes them. There are some guesses that a history of miscarriages, high blood pressure, and early onset of preeclampsia are precursors but nothing we can prove.” Dr. Sharmell lowers her voice, clearly wanting this conversation to remain between the two of them. “I did notice in her medical records an extensive amount of hospital visits for accidents indicating severe physical abuse when your wife was younger, and she also disclosed childhood sexual assault.”

Roman straightens his posture, voice even. “Yes.” Nothing more. Nothing less.

The older woman sighs. “There’s a possibility that your wife has some form of uterine trauma from her prolonged abuse and/or the sexual assault that could have contributed, but it’s nothing I can confirm medically.”

There’s slight relief at knowing that…..that he didn’t play a role in what happened is helpful, sure, but hearing that all of the other horrific things done to his wife may be the cause is the opposite of helpful.

It just pisses him the fuck off. 

Fist forming at his side, Roman has to remind himself where he is. Hearing about Solana’s abuse never fails to put him in a position where his minimal resolve is always tested. Unbridled rage with nowhere to go except inward.

“She’s going to be okay though, right?” Focusing on the most important topic at hand, he asks in an even quieter voice, “the babies….they’re going to be alright?”

Her smile is amenable. “They’re gonna be fine.”

Roman won’t outwardly express and show how comforting her words are, because a part of him was wondering if she was just saying what she knew Solana needed to hear to calm her down. But, away from his wife’s sight and auditory range, hearing the same positive prediction is beyond reassuring.

Nodding to himself, Roman finds himself uttering, “thank you.”

Words few are privy to hearing from the Mafia head but deserved giving what she’s done and what she’ll continue to do for his wife.

And his children.

She maintains her smile. “Of course.” Stepping back, she informs, “I’ll check back on her in a little bit.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just watches her move down the hall. Blowing out a deep breath, he runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes. 

Heavy footsteps precede a deep voice asking, “is everything alright, sir?” Roman is leaning against the wall, next to the door where he overhears the nurses asking Solana questions about her comfort. Bautista stands before him, still looking slightly concerned. “With….Mrs. Reigns and…..?”

There seems to be some sense of duty and loyalty to Solana in the man, traits that Roman didn’t quite recognize until just now. It’s appreciated and why he answers honestly. 

“She’s going to be fine,” Roman mutters. “They all are.” Bautista’s expression shifts to something akin to shock. “It’s…..it’s twins.”

Breaking the news of not only a pregnancy but a pregnancy involving twins to his wife’s bodyguard is just another twist in this story that he could have never anticipated. And yet, here he is.

But, it’s also something that would be stupid for Roman to try to hide. He knows the guard isn’t stupid. Calling for an OB-GYN in the middle of the night, rushing her to the ER, it all points to the obvious. 

“I need you to go to the house,” Roman changes subjects, not willing to disclose anything more. “Check on Dulce.”

Because as traumatic this has been for him and Solana, their puppy finding her "mom" in a dire state yet again has to be difficult for her too.

“Of course,” Bautista nods, moving to walk away when he stops, turning to Roman to simply say, “Congratulations, Sir.”

Roman offers no visible response. 

Ignoring the small trace of pride at such an acknowledgment. 

————

By the time Roman re-entered the room and the rest of the staff dispersed, Solana was already falling asleep, something he did nothing to interfere with. A necessity. It’s been a long ass day. 

For them both.

But especially her. 

For obvious reasons.

Pulling the chair to the side of the bed, Roman doesn’t use the time to get in some much needed sleep of his own. He’s far too wired for that. Besides, he needs to be up and awake in case she awakes and needs something. 

He spends time making adjustments, sending off texts and emails to the appropriate parties. Though the main ones are sent to Paul, Roman informing his Wise Man that he’ll be working from home the next couple days. Maybe a pop in at Bloodline HQ here and there, but nothing consistent like usual.

Roman needs to be home with his wife.

His pregnant wife.

There’s still something so strange about that, something that feels a bit unreal to be true. But, it is. He saw the sonogram, heard the confirmation, heard their heartbeats.

This is real and happening. 

Roman’s hand reaches and settles on Solana’s stomach as she continues to sleep, a peaceful expression on her pretty face. Emotions start to stir once more as he takes in the fact that she’s with not just one child but two. Two children that they created.

His children.

He’s never really given fatherhood much thought, maybe some deeper level of consideration from time to time but never to the point where it could become an actuality. 

Sure, he knew he’d eventually have a kid, but not even a year ago, he’d imagined it under very different circumstances. A marriage that simply allowed him to create an heir with a woman who would understand that there would never be any significance or sincerity behind their union. Truly, in every sense of the word, an arrangement. One where he has his on the side, she could have hers, and they’d come together when necessary for the sake of offspring. 

That’s exactly what he thought it would be. 

It couldn’t be farther from that. 

Because Solana is every good, redeemable part of him that exists. There is no life that could exist for him without her in it.

She is his better half in every sense of the word.

She completes him in a way he didn’t know he needed to be completed.

And now….now she’s carrying his babies.

Their babies.

Because he wants them to have every bit of goodness that fills her and none of his darkness that weighs him. It’s truly his hope and prayer that they take every bit from her and very little from him.

It’s just better that way. 

It’s a few hours into their admission and Solana’s sleep that she begins to stir. Roman easily sits up in the chair and pockets his phone as her eyes blink open.

She whines quietly, a small smile setting on her sleepy face as she focuses on him. “You’re still here….”

“Of course, I’m here.” There’s not a single place in this world he’d rather be than sitting here beside her. “I told you I wasn’t leaving.” And he meant it. Moving his hand from her stomach to atop hers, he asks, “how you feeling?”

“Better.” She looks and sounds it, too. He finds immense solace in that. Eyes squinting, she asks, “what time is it?”

A quick glance at the Hublot watch on his wrist. “Quarter to five.”

And just like that, her smile shifts into a bit of a frown. “You’ve been up this whole time?”

Knowing where she’s going, he moves to assure her. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” There’s a teasing note to her single word response, the smallest smirk on her full lips. 

Chuckling, he quiets down, his own mouth shifting into a frown. “Solana….”

“We were both wrong,” she interrupts. Roman doesn’t try to hide his surprise at her jumping right into what he planned to ease into, borderline tap dance around to take accountability but not bombard her with a conversation that’s better served when they’re home and not in a hospital. “I shouldn’t have kept the letter or my pregnancy from you, and you’ve been wrong for keeping things from me.”

“Yes.” Because there’s no disagreement to that simplified assessment of the issue from earlier. “But, Sol, we don’t need to discuss this right now….”

“Yes, we do.” Once again, she has him taken back by her borderline assertiveness in this moment. “We….we push things off because we think we’re protecting each other, but….but we’re not. We….we only make things worse.”

She won’t find any disagreement from him. “You’re right.” He closes his eyes, admitting, “you were right. About everything.”

Roman still believes this isn’t the time or place to be having this conversation, but he also recognizes ideal circumstances have escaped them almost entirely the past few weeks. If not longer.

It’s time to stop pushing things off. 

“Solana, I met with Gail virtually while I was in Italy, because hitting you really fucked with my head, and I thought….I’d convinced myself that you being with me was dangerous. That you’d…..you’d be better off if we weren’t together.”

And if he hadn’t realized before that was probably one of the worse ideas he’s ever had in his fucking life, Solana’s devastated expression is all the confirmation and more that he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Her voice is heavy as she starts to ask, “how you ever think—”

“I wasn’t in a good place.” He knew it then but can only openly acknowledge it now. And in some ways, he still isn’t. “I asked her to work with you on not being so attached to me, so that a divorce wouldn't be as hard on you, and she asked me something in return that I didn’t know how to answer.” Roman can still vividly recall and hear the sound of her voice, understanding but challenging. “She asked me how I planned to not be as attached to you, and it made me realize that I really do need you, Solana.”

“I told you before the only thing I fear in this life is losing you, but I think….I think it goes deeper than that.” He looks away, partially uncomfortable with this conversation, with having to acknowledge things he’s pushed away for so long. “I think….I think that there’s a lot of things I’ve avoided over the years, but I can’t….I can’t avoid them anymore.”

Not when he doesn’t have Fetu to go to anymore. And, he can’t put this on his wife.

“I—I started therapy, and I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it either. But, I know….I’ve realized that I need to do it for you, for us, but mainly for myself.” Because as much or maybe even as well as suppressing and repressing shit has “worked” for him over the years, it’s not sustainable, and he can see the strain it’s causing in his marriage.  

Roman can’t have that shit.

He’ll do anything to make this work.

To not lose his wife.

A glance at Solana reveals her small smile. “It’s not easy.” Roman won’t disagree. He hasn’t even started talking about actual shit, but even bringing himself to attend that first appointment was difficult. Her hand tightens around his. “I’m proud of you, Ro.” Roman can’t remember the last time commendation affected him as deeply as her kind words do. Solana smiles wryly, “I’m gonna have to make you a therapy journal.”

He can’t help the scowl on his face. “I’m not doing that.”

Her light giggle lifts his spirits and warms his soul before she softly murmurs, “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”

He swallows. “Solana—”

“I hurt you by not telling you. About the letter and the pregnancy. I see that, and I’m sorry. Regardless of my intentions, it was….it was wrong to keep you in the dark.” Her apology is appreciated and while a part of him wants to tell her she doesn’t need to do so, a larger part of him appreciates hearing as such. Appreciates having his feelings validated. 

It’s….different.

“I don’t wanna tell anybody about the pregnancy. Not….not yet.” Roman wants to ask why, not in disagreement per se, but curious about her thought process. If it’s based off what happened this evening. “I just want to keep it between us. At least until I start showing.” She lifts her hand to his face, cupping his cheek. “I wanna just focus on me, you and the babies, okay?”

He nods against her, more than okay with this arrangement, because it’s similar to what he was going to tell her. Her pregnancy is on a need to know basis moving forward, her security is getting increased, and her training is on pause until further notice.

He’s not taking any chances whatsoever moving forward. 

“There’s….there’s more I need to tell you.” His gaze is focused on her as she breaks eye contact, focusing on her stomach instead. “I—I found an old letter my mom wrote me, and….there’s a lot to unpack there but….that needs to wait until we get home, because I want to let you read it yourself.”

“Solana, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupts, softly. “Plus it’s…..it’s a lot to explain, and I think it’d be better if you just saw it for yourself.”

He nods. Roman was already planning to share the contents of Fetu’s letter with his wife, so her offering to let him read her own “message from beyond” just affirms that decision. Affirms that they both are trying to do better.

“Roman…..” She’s looking back at him, eyes watering. “I need you to know that I don’t want to hurt myself anymore. I could never do that to you.” She moves her hand to her stomach. “I could never do that to them.” His eyes close as he takes in her sentimental, vulnerable disclosure. “I want to be a mom. I want to be with you. I want to live, and I know that my attempt is something that may take longer for you to process, but I just….I just need you to know that.”

And on some level, he does. He knows that Solana has shown no indication whatsoever of falling back into that dark headspace. As she pointed out earlier, she’s put in so much work and continues to do so. She’s done everything right since then.

It’s just that what if that he can’t seem to pull away from.

“I know,” he finally responds, opening his eyes and reaching to wipe away her tears. “I’m gonna work on it, alright?”

He will. 

He has to.

She nods. “Thank you.” 

She sounds immensely appreciative and hopeful, the same type of feelings gradually starting to fill within him. They’re gonna figure this shit out. 

One way or another.

Roman drops his hand and gaze from her face, moving it to her stomach. He swallows, murmuring, “twins….”

Moving her hand on top of his, she echoes, “twins…..” Roman chuckles to himself. Their first pregnancy would be twins. “Dr. Sharmell ran a blood test that will check for any chromosomal disorders, but it will also…..it’s gonna tell us the sexes.”

His eyes lift back to her. “Already?”

Her small smile is back. “She said we should get the results in two weeks or so.” Roman doesn’t know a lot about pregnancy in general, but he was always under the impression that they wouldn’t know what they’re having until later on. A few more months, so to know he’ll know the sexes of their babies by the end of the month….it’s something.

“I’m really hoping at least one is a boy…..” Her voice shifting into something almost nervous makes him frown. Solana adds in a low voice, “I need to give you an heir…..”

Instantly, Roman is shaking his head. “You don’t need to do anything.” For the sake of openness, he opts to continue on the path of honesty with her. “Apparently the Elders have decided to put a timeline on things.” Roman has to contain his irritation at just the thought of them trying to put pressure on his wife. Trying to dictate his marriage. “Either we conceive by the end of the year, or they want us to divorce and they’ll pick a new wife for me.”

Solana’s eyes widen, anxiety ready to build. “Roman—”

“Whether you were already pregnant or not, over my dead fucking body would I ever let that happen.” His voice is pure steel, his determination indisputable. “I told you before. Nothing and no one can take you from me. I’d walk away from all this shit before I lose you.” Her face lights up in surprise, some of which is felt by even Roman at his admission. It’s not a lie though.

He’d rather step down as Tribal Chief and Capo before losing her. 

Solana is everything to him. 

And more.

Her voice is bristled with nervousness. “You have to tell them about the pregnancy then.”

“No,” he answers, shaking his head. “They don’t run this shit. I do. I’ll tell them when I want to.” I.e. not until the end of the year. He’ll allow them to do their plotting and planning behind the scenes, let them believe that they’ll have ‘won’ this. And only then will he tell them about the babies. 

Until then, they can fuck off. 

She seems unconvinced and still worried. “I just don’t want you to have to deal with unnecessary problems….”

Roman’s life is filled with as such, many of them he has to tackle and deal with on a daily basis. This is most definitely not one of them. “It’s not a problem. Trust me.”

His simple sentence of reassurance seems to chip away some of her anxiety as she asks, “can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything, Sol.” 

Always could. 

Always will.

Roman is happy to see her smile return. “I’ve been having….dreams the past couple months.”

Utterly curious and focused, he presses, “about?”

A brief hesitation followed up with an emotional, “us as parents.” Roman tenses, doing his best to maintain a neutral expression. “We have….we have twins in the dreams. Twin girls. Li—”

“Lina and Leya,” he finishes for her in a quiet voice. Roman is very much cognizant of the floored look on Solana’s face. 

She’s just as taken back by his knowing as he is about what this means. “How—how did you know that?”

A simple question with a layered answer that takes a minute for Roman to supply. Scoffing with disbelief, he responds calmly, “because I think we’ve been having the same dreams.”

Solana continues to be filled with shock as she moves around on the bed, turning on her side, shifting their still conjoined hands. “Wh—what?”

He closes his eyes, partially unsure of what to make of this. Of what it could mean, some deeper, higher power that’s just furthered and deepened the connection between himself and his wife. “I started having the dreams when we were in Mexico, and I’ve had them intermittently since then.” Swallowing, he shares, recalling from said dreams. “Leya is…..she’s like you. Quiet. Soft. A big heart.”

“And Lina is like you,” Solana adds, watery eyes reappearing from the emotionality of it all. “Protective. Outspoken. Also a big heart.” Her smile deepens as she wonders aloud, “do you think….do you think that’s what we’re having….them?”

Roman sits on her question for a good minute. “I think it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Because with all his intelligence and knowledge, Roman can’t for the life of him think of any reason why he and his wife would have shared dreams of the same future. 

A future that seems to be playing out before them.

Solana chuckles, sharing, “you know those are nicknames, right? Lina and Leya?” He nods. Up until this point, Roman hasn’t had a dream that included the full first names, but based on the look on Solana’s face, he’d bet she has. “They’re short for Catalina and Cataleya.”

Catalina 

Cataleya 

That emotion is climbing again, the awe and wonder of the shifting of fantasy to reality stirring up all sorts of feelings. 

“That’s what we’ll name them then,” he finally announces, moving his hand around her stomach. “Catalina and Cataleya.”

And the emotion he feels in said emotion is written all over his wife’s face as she asks, almost nervously, “so….so you’d be okay if….if they were both girls?” A part of him hates that she even has to ask that, that there’s any part of her that may wonder if he’d somehow be upset with the babies being girls versus at least one being a boy.

“Of course.” Because while there’s still a part of him that is nervous, unsure of what this new role of fatherhood will entail and look like for him, one thing is for certain. He’ll love, care, and protect them just the same as he loves, cares for and protects their mother. 

Solana is visibly relieved and comforted by his confirming answer. “And if they are girls—”

“They are,” he supplies. He’d almost bet his life on that. Too many coincidences for them to not be.

Solana grins. “Then we’ll try for a boy as soon as we can.”

“Solana, we don’t—”

“Yes, we do,” she sighs, sharing so calmly. “I want more kids with you. As many as we can have.”

On top of the fact that the first set haven’t even been born yet, it's the as many for Roman that has him straightening up in the chair. “Baby, you know I’m almost 40, right?” She rolls her pretty eyes, forcing him to straight up ask, “how many kids you trying to have?”

Solana shrugs as best she can from laying on her side. “The girls will have each other. We’ll still need a son, and he’ll need a sibling too around his age—”

Roman’s eyes widen a bit as he points out, “Solana, that’s four kids you talking about.”

He loves this girl with everything in him, but four children? 

He briefly recalls one of his dreams, a dream in which she disclosed her third pregnancy, a pregnancy that included another set of twins following the three children they already had.

Roman shakes his head, not even allowing himself to share that dream with her.

Nor will he even allow himself to consider if she had the same dream.

All them damn kids…..

He’d never know another day of peace again.

And yet…..

A small, minimal part of him wonders. Wonders what it might be like to have a big family of his own, to have several children, the perfect physical combination of himself and Solana. For their large home to be filled with laughter and happiness they were both deprived of. 

A chance to give said children the childhood they never had.

Solana’s smile deepens as she bites down on her bottom lip. “I know.” The almost playful smile shifts into something serious and poignant. “Roman, you lost your family as a child. So did I.” Solana swallows, shaking her head. “We can’t get back what we lost, but we can….we can start our own. We have.” Voice dripping with determination and conviction, she vows, “and no one is going to take that from us this time.”

Up until this point, Roman hadn’t considered that. Not in that specific way. They’ve both lost so much over the years, experienced immense loss and trauma. Having and starting a family of their own could be…it could be a fresh start.

A new beginning. 

“I love you.” In every sense of the word, with a depth that rivals the ocean and duty that defies logic. 

Solana doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the words he’ll never get tired of hearing from her. “I love you, too.”

Roman still has so many doubts, so many insecurities, things he’s unsure of. He doesn’t know the first thing about fatherhood. Doesn’t have that nurturing, loving instinct that Solana has. Her ability to comfort and love so naturally. 

He’s….he’s going to need her help with this, and he’s not afraid to acknowledge as such.

What he does know is that he’ll do whatever it takes to figure it out, to be the best husband, the best father he can be. 

For himself. 

For Solana. 

For Fetu.

For his daughters.

Cataleya and Catalina Reigns.

[cvnt4him]

Hey baby! It’s me Angel!

Could I get anything for izuku with a big girl reader? No one really writes anything about that😭 because I know this mother fucker would literally want to drowning in thighs as big as him. Like…Thigh fucking, right between them. And love to watch how our bully, ass, thighs, and more when he fucks us senseless 🍬

Skipped over every other req just for this one, I'm lit dying trying to write these damn part twos but I'm shutting those shits DEOWN just for this one thing.

angel my sweet, this is for you.

Izuku is such a sweetie pie he loves you so fucking much no doubt about it. Now it's no surprise or secret that izuku is a fucking slut. A dirty little perverted creep who adores you, he'd always been that way even before you started dating. The way he'd watch you unintentionally and start accidentally following you around without your knowledge.. it isn't stalking though!!

He would also try to be as close to you as possible to memorize your scent so he could use the memory to jack off to.. but it's out of love! you wouldn't mind right? Izuku just can't help that when he sees the way your uniform would hug your body so tightly his cock twitched in his pants! It's not his fault, honest!

Being with you for years to come has been an honest achievement to him. He was so happy and elated that you finally decided to be his! He loved everything about you! From your tummy, thick thighs, arms all of it! He loves kissing your chubby cheeks and tracing your stretch marks with his fingers. You were simply a delectable being in his eyes, he wouldn't ask you to change for anything!

As much as izuku loves you, he also can't help the lust that takes over for you. You've been together for a long time now, since highschool, throughout college and even in your newer adulthood years. You've gotten more than comfortable with each other and there are things that you do now that you didn't do when you first started dating for example, walking around half naked.

You walk around in some short shorts or sometimes just underwear, maybe underwear and a bra maybe just a shirt with no underwear or bra. You being your most raw and comfortable self with izuku turns him on to a devious extent.

No joke, despite being with you he can't help but to touch himself when you're not around. Thinking about your body and holding you close, your thighs wrapping around his head and squeezing it so tightly as if you're trying to crush it whilst he devours you. Licking and lapping at your cunt having your mind get clouded with unbearable lust.

He feels dirty for touching himself when you're right there. But sometimes he fears you won't want to try new things so unfortunately he has to imagine it!! Poor thing :(

Eventually my love brings it up to you and you end up trying whatever his heart desires.

“ will you... sit on my face? please..?”

“ ’zu, baby.. I'm not so sure. don’ wanna crush you...”

But he insists that you won't, he assures you that this is what he wants, to feel your weight on top of his face to drown in your sopping cunt. He wants it, yearns for it. You've been together for so long and have never fully sat on his face, afraid of what might happen but everything you're afraid of is truly what he wants!!

So there you are, rocking your hips on your lovers face while he groans deeply inside of your dripping cunt. He slurps and sucks all of the deliciousness that is your flavor, he's so happy that you've finally allowed him to eat you like he truly wanted to!

“ thank you’— ....th’nkyou s’much..”

You can hardly hear him from how loud your moaning letting yourself out of the layer of fear you had. He truly loved you and you felt it, by the way he ate you out.

But it didn't stop there, oh no. Trying new things turned to things you never would've assumed he was into. Thanks to porn he's realized he's into alot. Thigh fucking, dumbification, bondage and more....... So, much, more..

But he promised to keep it pretty tame as it is your first time trying out new things!!! He lies you down on your back and throws your legs over his shoulders keeping your thighs together, he quickly sheds his pants and hesitantly sticks his cock between your plush thighs.

You lightly squeeze around his cock and he groans deeply, throwing his head back and accidentally bucking his hips. He bites his lips before looking down at you with literal hearts in his eyes.

“, oh baby... ‘m’na cum already...”

Slow thrusts through your meaty thighs already has him shivering. He sighs shakily and continues to move his cock through your legs little whines leaving as he slowly melts his eyelids slowly shutting with a low whimper, his brows furrowing making him look so submissive, it's just so sweet to see your precious man lose himself using you. The bare minimum already has him going feral.

He truly was an animal and you know he wanted more, but something about teasing him was just so enlightening. You could feel his hips picking up pace his breaths quickening and his expression moving into a concentrated look.

“ not yet baby,”

His breath hitches and he soon stopped with a stutter to his hips as he came to a complete stop.

“, h- huh...?”

“ don't get too excited. don’ wan’ it to be over too soon, hm?”

He breath was quivering and he looked so desperate to cum. Just so needy for more, he sucked up his neediness and gave you a quick nod with a determined look and began slowly jerking his hips into your thighs once more, the low sound of skin against skin plapping going straight to his head, before he was chasing his high, now he has the time to actually be in the moment with what's happening.

Listening to the lewd noises, seeing your amused face, all of it added on to the pleasure, slight embarrassment and nervousness of being watched simply egged him on more, adding more fuel to the fire if you will.

“ that's it baby. fuck my thighs, yeah?”

“ ohh.... oh fuck yeah.. mmph..~”

Once more izuku accidentally sped up his hips. Whining as he felt his orgasm impending.

“ I think..- I think I'm gonna cum.”

He took the time to actually listen to the sounds your bodies together made despite not actually touching. The slapping of skin sounded so dirty it had him losing himself in it. You reached out and brushed your hand over his making his breath hitch, he nearly cums at the sudden touch of you.

“ that's it baby, go ahead.”

You coo to him, making his hips speed up he groans and moans to you staring deep into your welcoming eyes the warmth your thighs are providing around his cock making him fall apart.

With your encouraging words and the way your skin felt around him he came, spurts of milky white cum dripping down your thighs and spraying all over your tummy and boobs some even reaching your face. There was so much of his sticky cum it's as if he couldn't stop cumming his cock twitching between your thighs you seen the way it pumped and pumped more cum out of the enlarged and reddened tip. It was a mesmerizing sight you never grew tired of.

You opened your legs and removed them from atop of his shoulders and gently strokes his cock assuring the last drops of his cum dropped onto your thighs.

“ thank you ‘zuku!”

You exclaim with a cheer to your voice having him whine as you continue petting his twitching cock. You gave him a warm loving smile as you looked up at him you never stopped softly touching his cock, his eyes were still lidded and full of lust and love, he sighed and had his hand gently stroke your cheek, smiling wobbly at you as his cock jolted in your stilled hands, surprised at the sudden touch from your lover.

You've seen such a look before, he needed you and his cock was clearly still hard and dripping. Who would you be if not his lovable girlfriend and help him. You pull him onto you and quickly shed the rest of your clothing together and instantly he climbed on top of you, folding your legs and making your knees reach your breasts.

You give him a smile and a nod, with that he shoved his cock inside in one full go not giving you time to adjust to the stretch or anything just going full nelson on you. He was quick to shed the muffled moans thing, letting all of his whiney breathy and slutty noises out making your laugh as he dug his thick cock into your wet cunt,

He groans lowly into your ear and chuckles, kissing your cheek while you feel his sweat drip onto you. Izuku can't help but letting his feminine sounds escape. He continued to let his sounds fall into your ear like a sweet melody fogging up your mind and having you squeeze around his cock.

“ yeah?.. like my noises baby? ngh.. fuck my cocks still sensitive...”

Its as if he was trying to be more dominating but how could he do so with moans like that? He was practically begging for you. His cock was aching and terribly overstimulated, the added pain just intensified the pleasure.

His back arched into you and he continued roughly jerking his hips into your cunt.

“ fuck!”

You groaned at the feeling of him filling you, you couldn't wait to feel his creamy cum fill you tot he broke so good like he did. Your cunt was sucking his cock so harshly into your needy heat it's as if it hadn't wanted to let him go. Izuku loved when that happened.

“ g’na cum f’ me baby? huh? ....oh-! fuck yeah..! ”

You tightened around his cock unbearably so, cumming around him while he continued to plow into you. You wrapped your arms around him and he buried his face into your neck inhaling your scent and feeling the heat pool in the spot.

His eyes rolled and he grunted in your ear repeatedly huffing out mumbled and mushed together words that sounded like praise and degradation at the same time, you couldn't wrap your head around it as you were already losing your mind from the mind breaking orgasm he gave you.

Izuku loved filling you up, it was his favourite thing about you letting him fuck you raw. Feeling his cum inside of you while he continued to move his hips, the noises it made, it was all so illuminating. The intense feeling that clouded the both of you as you shared each other like this.

Izuku was glad he could feel such a feeling once more, burying his cock to the hilt inside of you cumming hard and filling you. He let out a whiney moan as his eyes crossed slightly, they fluttered shut as he collapsed on top of you.

You two untangled yourselves and embraced one another wrapping yourselves around each other. You both caught your breath and laughed full of air together. Just trying your best to talk about whatever you could before you fell asleep together, his arms wrapped around your body tightly. He kissed your forehead and laid his head atop of yours with a sigh before letting slumber take over him aswell.

AN:I hope this was as good to you as it was to write if that makes sense, thank you, and you're welcome

[saphiccarma]

If you still talking requests for Agatha and Rio, how about Agatha x reader x Rio?!?!

What if the reader was pregnant, but the child died when she was giving birth and Rio and Agatha knew! And when she went to beg for the child life, Rio still took their child life and Agatha didn’t do anything to do it because she knew deep down she couldn’t do anything. Then they tried to comfort her but the reader full with grief, left them.

But you can do whatever you please love!

- I don't want to see your face

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - Instead of Agatha getting pregnant, you did, but Rio did not offer you time.

Warnings: Character death, angst

A/N: It's a little short so I hope that's okay, but I hope y'all enjoy regardless!

Everything hurt. Your legs were on fire and your lungs were burning. The sun casted a harsh heat down on you and sweat beaded down your brow as you ran through the forest. Casting a worried glance behind you, you looked for Rio. She wasn't there.

That was a good sign.

Most of all, you could feel the child in your stomach trying to force its way out, trying to come into the world. The strap of your pack dug into your shoulder. Hesitantly, afraid to stop, you leaned against a tree when the pain flared up. You dug into your bag and pulled out the lemon and a knife. With some difficulty, you cut the lemon in half, sticking one half in your mouth and biting down. A sour taste flooded your mouth, and while it was disgusting, it distracted you from the pain.

Shaky hands laid a blanket down on the forest floor and you sunk down, your back scratching against the tree bark. Everything hurt. You muffled a scream as another wave of pain hit. Water trickled down your legs, almost dry from the heat.

Where the fuck was Agatha?

You debated calling her with a spell, but there was a greater part of you that didn't. This child was not supposed to be here. It was a child of death, you knew that. In all honesty, you weren't sure how it happened, but you slowly noticed your body start changing and soon enough you realized you were pregnant. You didn't tell either of your girlfriends, you didn't dare. Did they deserve to know? Yes. Did Agatha start noticing? Yes.

She had found out once you started showing. You had pleaded with her not to tell Rio, She might- I don't- Agatha please don't tell her yet.

It was wrong, you knew that, but you still feared her role in the cycle of nature.

Forcing your eyes open (when had the closed?), you were met with the best and worst sight possible.

Rio stood dressed in a green dress, flowing around her ankles, and a hood covering her head. There was a brown dot on her cheek, one that wasn't usually there. Agatha stood next to her; a sincere frown of apology set onto her lips.

"No," you spat out the lemon, the bitter taste still lingering in your mouth, and shook your head, "Don't."

"I must."

Your teary eyes met Rio's. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and regret, but you didn't care. Frantically, you casted a glance towards Agatha, hoping for some help.

"Help me," you pleaded. Pain tore through your body. It was sharp and piercing and all-consuming you could hardly focus on your lovers, but you faintly saw Agatha take a step back, her eyes apologetic. It was so unlike her, to just step away. You wanted to scream at her, yell and force her to help, but you couldn’t force the words out.

Rio approached you, ignoring your cries, your sobs, as you pleaded. You wanted this child. This was your child. Her hands gently cupped your face and tilted it up. You flinched away, glaring at her with such intensity that she took a step back.

"I have to," she swallowed thickly, "I'm sorry."

In a desperate attempt, "Please my love," you begged, her face contorted even tighter at the term of endearment, and you saw a crack in her mask, a flicker of uncertainty, "Please let him live."

Rio bit down on her lip and shut her eyes before a brief moment before she shook her head sorrowfully. You screamed as pain racked your body and you clutched at nothing, your hands burying into the dirt. With a scared glance down, you saw a head, covered in blood. Was that normal? Both your girlfriends stood there as you pushed a child out of you, biting down on your lower lip hard enough for it to bleed. Blood trickled down your chin.

And finally, when you thought you couldn't go any longer, you felt the child leave you. With frantic hands, you reached for him, cradling him close to your chest, and pressing your ear to where his heart should be. There was nothing. Your own heart was racing, panic surging through you as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands were bloody and so was your child, but you hardly cared as you pressed him up against your chest.

You felt a hand gently lay on your shoulder and you recoiled. Agatha looked as if she was burned by touching you.

"Get out," you spat, even though you were in the middle of nowhere, "Go. I don't want to see either of your faces again."

"Darling," Agatha reached for you again, her words soft and delicated.

"Leave!" you screamed, voice raw from exhaustion and pain.

Agatha glanced at Rio for some sort of guidence. Death grabbed her hand and shook her head before giving you a gentle look, she blew a kiss at you even though you were glaring.

You watched, pain in your heart, as they flashed away. After that, you really broke, loud cries echoing through the forest and you held your baby boy close to your chest.

^_______________^

The bar you worked at was quiet at this time of night, quiet enough that you found enough time to slip into the back and use the restroom. You wiped your hands on your jeans, while it was mostly empty, there was a warm humid air that drifted around, and you hated that. Pushing the door open, you faintly noticed two other women in here, but you didn't bother looking.

You really should have.

"Y/N?"

The voice made you freeze in your tracks, eyes going wide. You knew who that was. You knew the hand gently settled on your shoulder, even after all these years, and you knew the way magic crackled in the air. You were a fool for not sensing them the moment they entered.

You recoiled away from Agatha's hand, taking hasty steps back, and giving her nothing but a harsh glare. She smirked, for some damn reason, and raised her hands in mock surrender.

"I would've thought after all these years you would have mellowed a bit," she teased, her voice honeyed and flowing like syrup. You scoffed at her attempt to ease the tension and crossed your arms over your chest defensively. A barrier between you and them.

Rio raised a brow, "You're going to be like that?" Her remark only made you roll your eyes. A small smirk curled on her lips, "Oh come on, where's the sweet girl that brought us flowers? Braided our hair?" She drawled her words out as if she wanted to taunt you.

You scowled, "She's gone. Remember? You killed her with her son."

Pain flickered across their faces, only for the briefest of moments. And that was enough. It was enough for hundreds of years of pent-up anger to flow out of you.

"You lost me, the day you took my son from me. You didn't even try, didn't even help even though I begged, I pleaded. I wanted him so badly and-" You choked back frustrated tears and wiped furiously at your nose, "I said I never want to see you again and I meant it."

Your words were dripping with venom, potent enough to burn, based on your ex’s reaction. Agatha looked upset, her brows furrowed, and lips curled, but she had taken a step back. Rio looked remorseful; her hands clenched at her sides.

Agatha moved until she was right up in her face, and you were backed into the door of a stall. She pressed herself so close that you could feel her breath, but she wasn't touching you. Gripping your chin firmly with slender fingers, she tilted your face to meet her eyes.

"Watch the tone. You can hate us, that's fine," she snarled, "But know that he was our son too. Not just yours."

You swallowed thickly, but only sneered back. Deep down, you knew that, but you never wanted to admit it. Still, the pain was fresh as the day it happened, and you pressed your hand against her collar bone, shoving. She stumbled back, but only willingly, a deep smirk planted on her face.

And then she was gone. Her hand grabbing Rio's wrist and dragging death away. You exhaled shakily, did your business, but paused in front of the skin. Your hands came up to pressed against your cheek where Agatha hand grabbed. It wasn't even that hard, but there were two small purple dots, almost like bruises. Humming in confusion, you leaned closer to the mirror, and examined them, but then they were gone as if they had never been there.

You were probably just tired.

You washed your hands quickly and returned to work. When you did, Agatha and Rio were nowhere to be seen. Vanished like you wanted them to be, but that didn't stop the pain in your heart from growing as you longed for your lovers back.

[pbaz7]

It’ll Always Be Her Chapter IIII

AN: I was going to wait to post but a lot of people actually like the fic so I want to keep things going :). Please let me know what you think when you’re done reading!

TW: Suggestive language (that’s all I think)

Word count: 4k

The late afternoon sunlight poured in through the window, filling Azzi’s room with a warm, golden glow. Paige and Azzi sat side by side on the floor, textbooks open, quietly working through assignments and occasionally sharing a laugh over something silly in the film they had started watching earlier. For the first time in what felt like ages, they were just two people sharing space in a comfortable, relaxed way—no pressure, no tension.

It was a small but peaceful moment, the calm before the storm.

Then Paige’s phone buzzed, interrupting the quiet. She glanced at the screen, her eyes lingering on the name that flashed across—Jess. Her heart skipped a beat. They hadn’t spoken since Jess left, and though they’d agreed to return with clarity, the silence between them had only grown heavier. Now, the weight of unresolved emotions sat uncomfortably on her chest.

Azzi, ever perceptive, caught the subtle shift in Paige’s demeanor. Her sharp eyes flicked to the phone, then back to Paige. She didn’t say anything immediately, but the slight tilt of her head spoke volumes. She was watching, calculating, waiting.

“Are you going to answer it?” Azzi asked finally, her tone casual, though her curiosity was evident. She leaned back slightly, her hands resting on the floor behind her, exuding a quiet confidence.

Paige hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I guess… yeah. I should. It's been a while.”

Azzi nodded, her gaze lingering. “Take your time,” she said smoothly, her voice low and even. It was an invitation, a reassurance. But her eyes never left Paige, as if gauging every reaction.

Paige swiped to answer the FaceTime, pasting on a polite smile when Jess’s face appeared on the screen. “Hey, Jess.”

“Hey! How’s it going?” Jess’s voice was warm, but there was a hint of something else beneath it—uncertainty. “How’s everything?”

Paige forced a casual tone. “Everything’s good. Same old stuff, you know.”

The conversation stumbled awkwardly forward, Jess filling the gaps with updates about her family. Paige listened, nodding occasionally, but her responses were clipped. Her mind was elsewhere. Azzi’s presence beside her was a constant pull, a reminder of the complicated feelings she hadn’t fully sorted through.

Jess’s voice perked up suddenly. “You’re not in your room? Where are you?”

Paige’s stomach tightened. She glanced at Azzi, who raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Paige’s discomfort. Paige tried to deflect, her voice light. “Oh, just out and about. Needed a change of scenery.”

Jess wasn’t convinced. “Out? Are you with someone?”

Paige hesitated for a fraction too long, and Jess’s tone shifted, more probing now. “Paige?”

With a quiet sigh, Paige decided there was no point in dancing around it. “I’m at Azzi’s,” she said, her voice steady but guarded.

“Oh.” Jess’s response was immediate, the change in her tone unmistakable. “So you’re with her now, huh? That’s... great.”

Azzi’s smirk deepened, and she stretched lazily, her movements deliberate. Her leg brushed lightly against Paige’s, a casual touch that seemed anything but accidental. Leaning in slightly, she whispered, her breath warm against Paige’s ear, “You know, you’re cute when you’re all serious like this. Too bad I can’t distract you more.”

Paige stiffened, a spark of heat shooting up her spine. She fought to keep her expression neutral, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the slightest twitch of a smile.

“Yeah, Jess,” Paige said, her voice carefully neutral. “I’ve been spending time with her. She’s my best friend and teammate.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered with amusement hearing the terms used to describe her. She shifted closer, her presence unmistakable. Her fingers brushed lightly against Paige’s shoulder, a fleeting touch that lingered just long enough to test the waters. Paige didn’t pull away, and Azzi took that as a silent green light.

Jess’s voice crackled through the phone, tinged with frustration. “I don’t know why you’re so defensive about her, Paige. Is there something special about her? Is this what it’s like now? You’re always with her, and I’m... just supposed to accept it?”

Azzi leaned in again, her lips hovering close to Paige’s ear. “She’s fishing for something,” she murmured softly, her tone dripping with playful malice. “But we both know where your head really is.”

Paige swallowed hard, her gaze darting between the phone and Azzi. She wasn’t sure how to navigate this minefield, especially with Azzi so deliberately blurring the lines.

Jess’s voice, now sharper, broke through the tension. “I don’t want to be the clingy girlfriend, Paige, but this… doesn’t feel right. I’m out here trying to fix things, and you’re—”

“Jess,” Paige interrupted, her voice firmer than before. “I’m not trying to make this harder than it has to be. I’m just... trying to figure things out, okay?”

Azzi watched, her eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. She leaned back against the bed, letting her hand rest lightly on Paige’s lower back, tracing small, deliberate circles. Her touch was steady, grounding, but it carried a weight of suggestion that Paige couldn’t ignore.

Jess’s sigh crackled through the phone. “You don’t even sound like you care. Every time we talk, it’s like you’re somewhere else.”

Paige’s grip on the phone tightened. “That’s not fair. I do care,” she says absentmindedly.

“Do you?” Jess challenged, her voice rising slightly. “Because it feels like I’m the only one trying.”

Azzi’s smirk widened. She leaned forward again, her lips brushing just below Paige’s ear, her voice low and teasing. “You’ve got more important things to focus on right now,” she murmured, her tone dripping with intent. “Don’t let her guilt you.”

Paige closed her eyes briefly, the combination of Azzi’s touch and Jess’s words pulling her in two directions. When she opened them, her resolve had hardened. “Jess, I think we need to stop pretending like this isn’t hard for both of us. I can’t give you answers right now and I told you that before you left.”

Jess went quiet for a moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, tinged with frustration and hurt. “Fine. Maybe I’ll call you later, when you’re not... busy.”

The line went dead before Paige could respond.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint sound of the movie still playing in the background. Paige lowered her phone, staring at the screen as the weight of the conversation settled over her.

Azzi broke the silence, her voice light but pointed. “She didn’t take that well.”

Paige exhaled slowly, setting the phone down beside her. “No. She didn’t.”

Azzi shifted closer, her arm brushing against Paige’s as she leaned in. “You okay?”

Paige gave a small, rueful smile. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, then reached out, gently tilting Paige’s chin so their eyes met. “Hey, don’t let her get in your head. You’ve got enough going on without carrying all that too.”

Paige chuckled softly, but her smile quickly faded. She glanced down at her hands, her voice quieter now. “Why can’t I just break up with her?” she muttered, almost to herself. “Before she comes back, before this gets worse.”

Azzi’s smirk softened, her expression calculating yet understanding. “I’ve already told you. She’s dealing with enough back home. Doing it over text or a phone call would only make it worse. I want you to do it in the best way possible because honestly she’s not going to handle it well at all. Maybe it’ll soften the blow if it’s in person”

Paige sighed, her head leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, I know. But…” She paused, a small smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at Azzi. “What we’re doing right now isn’t exactly the best option either.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered with amusement, her lips curving into a teasing grin. “True. But here we are,” she said softly, her voice filled with playful certainty. “And we both know we couldn’t stop even if we wanted to.”

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re really not holding back today, are you?”

Azzi’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Why should I? Life’s too short to play it safe.” Her thumb lightly grazed Paige’s jawline, her touch both comforting and electrifying. “Besides, you don’t seem to mind.”

Paige felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned slightly into Azzi’s touch, her smile softening. “You’re impossible, you know that?” The familiar phrase slipped off of Paige’s lips.

Azzi grinned. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer before Paige finally sighed, breaking the spell. “We should get back to the homework. Distractions aren’t going to help me pass this class.”

Azzi leaned back, still smirking. “Fine. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she flipped open her textbook. “Of course not.”

As they settled back into their work, the tension from the call began to fade, replaced by the familiar rhythm of their banter and the steady comfort of each other’s presence

…

The soft hum of the movie playing in the background was the only sound in the room as Paige and Azzi sprawled out on the floor, phones in hand, lazily scrolling through social media. The comfort between them was easy, familiar—there was no rush to say anything, no pressure. Just the quiet shared space that had become their routine.

Then, Paige’s phone buzzed with a notification, drawing her attention. She swiped across the screen and paused, her eyes narrowing.

Azzi, still sprawled beside her, glanced over casually. “What’s up?” she asked, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

Paige didn’t answer at first, too distracted by what she was seeing on her screen. A TikTok edit, this one of them—a fan-made video of Paige and Azzi, the tension between the two of them in the video evident. The caption flashed up in bold letters: “They need to get a room.”

Paige’s mouth curled into a half-smile, and she let out a soft, amused laugh.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” she asked, scooting a little closer to Paige.

Paige hesitated, but then shrugged with a teasing grin. “Just some ridiculous TikTok edits… People shipping us.”

Azzi’s lips twitched in amusement. “Oh really? What are they saying about us?” Her voice was playfully sly now, a mix of interest and mischief.

Paige laughed, rolling her eyes as she scrolled to another video. “It’s the usual stuff—saying we’re ‘meant to be,’ blah blah.”

Azzi leaned in a little more, her voice dropping low, teasing. “Meant to be, huh?” she repeated, the words lingering in the air as she glanced at Paige. “Guess that’s what they think. You agree with them?”

Paige turned to look at Azzi, her face a little more serious now. The flirtation in the air was palpable, hanging between them like an unspoken promise. She shrugged again, but her smile held a playful edge. “I mean… I’m not exactly opposed to the idea.”

Azzi’s expression flickered with something unreadable, a subtle challenge. “Is that so? Because you know… people are always saying how hard it is to resist a person like me.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. She met Azzi’s eyes, the teasing now pulling her in. “I don’t know,” she replied slowly, a bit bolder now. “You make it hard to focus. But I guess that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

Azzi’s lips curled into a smirk. “It’s definitely one of my talents,” she said, leaning in just slightly, her tone low and deliberate. “But I’m curious… what else are you good at?”

The flirtation was unmistakable now, charging the air between them with an intensity that neither of them was willing to acknowledge, but neither could deny. Paige’s mind raced, and before she knew it, her body was moving closer, a magnet pulling her in.

“I could think of a few things,” Paige said, her voice softer now, almost teasingly coy. She let her gaze drop to Azzi’s lips, her breath quickening, but she wasn’t pulling back. Instead, she let her hand brush against Azzi’s stomach, her fingers lightly grazing the other girl’s skin.

Azzi’s eyes darkened, just a little, but her smirk only deepened. “Careful,” she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “You’re getting dangerously close to what we’ve been avoiding.”

Paige’s pulse quickened. She couldn’t tell if she was testing Azzi or if she was being tested herself. All she knew was the heat building between them. She moved even closer, her breath just a little uneven. Her knee brushed against Azzi’s, and her face hovered above her best friend’s, the closeness unmistakable.

“Maybe I want to cross that line,” Paige said, her voice low, challenging. Her hand rested lightly on Azzi’s chest now, as though to hold her there.

Azzi’s breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The tension was thick enough to cut through, both of them teetering on the edge. Azzi’s fingers twitched, as though she was fighting the urge to pull Paige closer, but the moment was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Knock. Knock.

Azzi and Paige both froze.

KK’s voice floated through the door, breaking the stillness. “The rest of the team will be heading to Morgan’s soon.” she called, her tone casual, but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Paige exhaled sharply, blinking as she pulled back. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to steady her breath. “Yeah, okay we’re just finishing up studying.”

Azzi grinned, clearly more at ease now, but her eyes still sparkled with amusement. She leaned back slightly, her voice low and teasing as she glanced at Paige. “Guess you’ll have to save that ‘line crossing’ for later.”

Paige could only shake her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, her heart still racing. “Guess so.”

KK knocked again, louder this time, her voice more insistent. “You guys still alive in there or what?”

Paige and Azzi exchanged one last look before they both burst into quiet laughter, the moment slipping away, but the heat of it still lingering in the air.

“Coming!” Paige called, shaking her head as she sat up fully, her mind still spinning with what just almost happened.

Azzi sat up beside her, her eyes lingering on Paige with an almost knowing look. “Next time,” she said quietly, as if daring Paige to take the plunge.

Paige’s heart still thudded in her chest. She didn’t answer, but her smile said it all.

…

The energy in the suite was chaotic, the noise from the party nearly deafening. Laughter and music filled every corner, the sounds of beer pong balls bouncing off cups and the occasional shout echoing through the space. The team had gathered for Morgan’s birthday, the freshman was too young to drink at Ted’s, so they’d moved the party back to their suite, where no one had to worry about rules.

Paige was caught in the whirlwind, but her focus wasn’t on the games or the people around her. Her eyes kept drifting toward Azzi, who had ditched her oversized sweatshirt for a tight crop top that showed off her toned stomach. Every time Azzi moved, the silver belly piercing she wore glinted in the light, and Paige couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. The more she looked, the harder it became to ignore the tension building in her chest.

Azzi, for her part, had noticed Paige watching her all night—lingering glances that never seemed to end, a slow burn to the way Paige’s eyes tracked her every movement. She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the party, but the pull between them felt almost magnetic. Every time Paige whispered something in her ear, Azzi felt a shiver race down her spine.

At first, Paige’s words had been innocent enough—light-hearted and playful, barely more than teasing.

“Think you can sink that shot?” Paige whispered, referring to the bear pong game, leaning in so close her breath ghosted over Azzi’s ear. “Maybe I could teach you a few tricks if you want.”

Azzi suppressed a smile, but the warmth spreading through her chest was undeniable. There was something in the way Paige said it, something that made it feel like more than just a passing comment.

Later, as they all gathered near the kitchen, Paige slid next to Azzi, her body brushing lightly against hers. The music thumped loudly, but Paige’s voice was soft, just above a whisper, as she leaned in, her breath warm against Azzi’s ear. "You look so focused," she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Maybe I can help you put that energy towards something else."

Azzi’s breath caught, and her heart thudded harder. She bit back a smirk, trying to keep her composure, but the teasing was getting under her skin. Paige was playing with fire, and Azzi wasn’t sure how much longer she could avoid the flames.

But it wasn’t until much later that Paige’s whispers grew bolder. As the night wore on, the drinks began to hit harder, and Paige’s restraint started to slip. Azzi was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen when Paige found her, standing a little too close, her hand brushing against Azzi’s backside.

“You look sexy tonight,” Paige whispered, her voice low and velvety. “Really sexy.” Her lips almost brushed Azzi’s ear as she spoke, sending a ripple of heat through her body. The words felt too intimate, too loaded for the setting they were in.

Azzi's body reacted before her mind could, a jolt of desire rushing through her veins. She leaned back slightly pushing herself against Paige, her pulse quickening, but she couldn’t pull away. Not yet.

Paige, emboldened by the alcohol and the closeness between them, took a step closer, her breath warm against Azzi’s neck. “You know,” she said, her voice dropping even lower, “If I get too close, you’re not going to want me to stop.”

Azzi’s heart raced as the words hit her like a wave. She was dangerously close to losing control, to crossing the line neither of them had dared to cross. But it was hard to stop when every part of her wanted to close that gap between them.

Finally, unable to stay away, Azzi slipped out of the suite and into the hallway, hoping to find some space, some air to clear her head. But Paige was right behind her, not letting her escape so easily.

“Where are you going?” Paige’s voice was low and insistent, as if she already knew the answer. The quiet intensity in her tone made Azzi’s breath catch.

Azzi glanced over her shoulder, offering a brief smile, but the hunger in Paige’s eyes stopped her cold. “Just need a break,” Azzi said, trying to sound nonchalant, but her pulse was racing. “I’ll be back soon, don't worry.”

Paige wasn’t having it. She followed Azzi down the hall, staying close, her steps firm and purposeful. “I’ll come with you.”

It wasn’t a question.

The tension crackled between them as they reached Paige’s room. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the atmosphere shifted, thick with the unspoken words that had been building all night. They were so close now, every breath shared, every movement charged with heat.

Paige stood inches from Azzi, her chest rising and falling slightly faster as she slowly took a step closer. The room felt small, too small for the desire curling in her stomach, too small for the way Azzi was looking at her.

She whispered, her lips grazing Azzi’s ear. “I think you’re testing me.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “Maybe I am” she murmured, her voice thick with the same longing. But she could feel herself slipping, the alcohol making it harder to think straight, harder to stop herself from giving in. “Paige… we shouldn’t” she says although it’s hard to tell which one of them she’s trying to convince.

But Paige’s eyes were dark, the distance between them closing with every word, every breath. Her hand reached up, brushing against Azzi’s jaw, fingertips grazing the smooth skin. “What if we just stopped pretending we don’t want this?” she whispered, her lips so close Azzi could feel the heat radiating off them.

Without thinking, Paige’s other hand slid up to Azzi’s neck, lightly gripping the soft skin just below her jaw. The pressure was gentle, but it was enough to send a spark of desire coursing through Azzi’s body. Her pulse quickened, and she felt a flush of heat spread across her chest, her breath hitching as her body responded instinctively.

Azzi gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as the sensation overwhelmed her. Her fingers curled into the front of Paige's shirt, yanking her closer, pulling their bodies flush against each other. The warmth of Paige’s body against hers sent waves of electricity through her, and her breath became shallow, shaky with need.

"Paige," Azzi whispered, her voice thick with desire, her lips dangerously close to the blonde’s. The scent of her skin, intoxicating and warm, drove Azzi wild. She slid her hands down to Paige’s back, pulling her even closer. “God, I want you. I need you.”

Paige’s chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, her hand tightening slightly around Azzi’s neck. The closeness, the urgency between them, made her skin burn, craving more.

With a surge of raw desire, Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige’s waist, guiding her backward toward the couch. The movement was swift, uncoordinated, their lips still grazing each other as they stumbled in the direction of the cushions. In one swift motion, they tumbled onto the couch, Azzi landing on top, their bodies a tangled mess of heat and hunger. Paige’s breath hitched, her body pressed against Azzi’s as they both struggled to steady themselves, the air between them electric, charged with longing.

However, as she suddenly realized just how far the two were going, Azzi slowly eased herself back, pushing gently on Paige’s chest. “No,” she said, her voice trembling. “We’re not doing this like this. Not now.”

Paige froze, her breath coming fast, eyes searching Azzi’s face for any sign of what she was thinking. Frustration bubbled inside her, wanting so badly to give in, but she understood. "Right," she muttered, her voice strained, as she leaned back, still close enough that their bodies almost touched.

Azzi’s hands slid away from Paige, reluctantly breaking the contact, leaving a lingering emptiness between them. "I want us to happen," she said quietly, her words heavy with sincerity. "But not like this. Not when we’re... like this. Not when you’re still not fully mine."

Paige swallowed hard, the desire still burning in her veins, but she nodded, trying to steady herself. "Yeah. You’re right. We... we’ll do it the right way."

Azzi took a deep breath, stepping back toward the door, but before she could go any further, Paige reached out and grabbed her wrist, her grip firm but gentle. Azzi turned back to her, and Paige’s eyes were filled with something deeper—admiration, trust, longing. She stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper but full of conviction. "I do belong to you," she said, her gaze unwavering. "Only you."

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat at the words, the sincerity of them settling over her like a warm embrace. Without thinking, she cupped Paige’s cheek with one hand, leaning in just enough to place a soft, tender kiss on her cheek—a promise, a silent understanding.

Pulling away, Azzi smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Paige’s face. "Come on," she said, her voice steady now. "Let’s get back out there."

Paige stood there for a moment, her heart racing, feeling the weight of the moment, before finally following Azzi out of her room. As they stepped into the hallway, their eyes locked for a fleeting second, a shared understanding passing between them. Just like always they both knew that things were far from over, but for now, they had to hold back.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymmetrical Symphony - Part 2

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written and GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N.: Thank you for the fav and comments!! This chapter isn't gonna have much Viktor in it, but I'm just starting to estabelish some things and get the ball rolling. I'll try and update more Vik x you as quick as possible. :D

Part 1

• ··········· • ············ •

The world was spiraling around you. Noises of the past, the present, of another version of the world, blurred and mixed into a weirdly misshapen music. You tried to stop it, pause the song to figure out what’s what. Pull a thread to focus on something, to ground yourself. You inhaled air into your lungs and then expelled it. Every time you breathed out, the sounds became less confusing, like an orchestra finding itself following the maestro. In the end, only the quick buzzing of the world around you was left, as it settled down in a place and time.

You dazedly opened your eyes to a bright ball of light right before you and someone’s hand on your forehead. The sudden memory of the Hex Angel standing on top of you, extracting your soul from your body, flooded your senses, and you had to get away.

Quickly sitting upright, you shoved the construct away, watching with dread as the angel fell and stood up with ease. Their hands up in mock surrender, the mask emotionless.

“Calm down.” It said, with the familiar accent of a friend. “You’re safe.”

“Vik-Viktor stop…” You mumbled at the thing while it tilted its head at you. “Please”

It kept coming closer, its movements slow and deliberate, palms up to you as if it were approaching a scared animal.

In the haziness of trying to get away from it as fast as possible, you felt the ground give away under you, and once more, you were snapped back to focus when you landed on something hard.

The sound that left your lips was less than elegant as your back hit the cold, hard floor. Your body is now fully awakened to every scratch, bruise, and wound.

The first thing you noticed, as you tried to will the pain away, was the hard, smooth surface under your fingertips. Ceramics, cold hard ceramics. You turned your head and opened your eyes to a wall of floor-to-ceiling tiles, arranged in soothing colors. 

You frowned at the familiar sense of the place.

Tilting your head backward, the minty-colored fold screen was unsurprisingly standing between gurneys, confirming where you were. Pilltover’s General Hospital.

And by the present company, maybe you had gone back to your time? Maybe forward? It didn’t make sense if they were here while you still looked human... something happened... Did you change anything that made the HexAngels different? 

The sound of footsteps clicking on the floor was enough to get your mind back to the situation at hand. You tried to move, but something was grabbing your extended arm.

Your gaze followed the extent of your arm until it reached a cuffed wrist. Your cuffed wrist. They had cuffed your arm to the bed. You pulled at the restraint, testing it. It rattled but didn’t open, as expected.

“It’s alright…” The Herald’s modified voice scrambled into a warm woman's tone, its footsteps coming closer and closer.

That’s new. You snapped your neck to the voice, inching as far as you could from it. 

The shape that appeared from behind the bed shifted from an abnormally beautiful construct to a tall and thin nurse. 

“What the…” You looked at her face. A smile plastered on her face, hands stretched toward you. “Where am I?”

She gave the expected answer, but she did not understand the depth of your question. 

“Why am I cuffed to the bed?” You asked, not moving from your seat on the floor, your backside becoming cold under the hospital gown.

“Officer Caitlyn wants to speak with you. You were found unconscious in the rubble of the attack.” The nurse went to grab you, and you swatted her hand as your vision layered her hand with a gold claw. She frowned.

“The rocket attack..." You mumbled, and she nodded.

“Quite the spectacle. If it had been in the Lanes, nobody would care.” She whispered, but you heard her.

“People died." You snapped, her eyes locking with yours.

“People die every day.” Her face contorted into a scowl, and you noticed a familiar accent in her speech, hidden behind the effort to sound Pilltovian. She’s from the Undercity.

You looked her in the eyes, and her indifference was palpable. She moved to grab you, but instead, she held her arm out. 

“Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”

You wrapped your free hand on the forearm and pulled yourself up, towering over her.

“There we go.” She patted the bed, and you complied, sitting on it. She stood in front of you, grabbing a tiny silver flashlight from her pocket and lifting it with one hand while the other went towards your face.

Reality shifted, and once again her hand transformed into a golden claw with white fingers. You swatted it away and moved your face out of reach.

“No touching?” She asked, and you nodded, her following your movement a second later. “Very well. But I need to check you.”

“I’m fine.” you said, and she rolled her eyes. “You survived a rocket hit to the head. Trust me, you are fine because we gave you drugs.”

You felt the corners of your lips turn up at her sass. With the faint accent, it was like you were back at the Talis Lab.

"Just don’t touch the face.”  “Very well, then you have to do it.”

She instructed you to pull your lower eyelids down, pull at your cheeks, and even gave you the tongue suppressor to look at the back of your throat.

“You seem very comfortable around someone in cuffs.” You told her as she gently peeled the gauze from a wound in your arm.

“People talk. From what’s been going around, you ran into the figurative building on fire. Sure, you knocked around a few enforcers, but sometimes they do need some sense knocked into them.” 

You enjoyed it as her accent became more and more pronounced the more she talked. Memories of good old times flooded your mind when another Undercity crossover would talk your ear off as you fine-tuned your instrument. You knew that accent by heart, even mocking him by mimicking it.

“How long ago did you cross the bridge?” You whispered, not wanting to divulge that information to the world. She raised an eyebrow.

“A few years back, before nursing school.” She kept choking your wounds. “How did you figure it out?”

“The way you speak. I knew…know…knew someone, a friend, a close friend who spoke like that. They were…are…from the other side as well.” You cleared your throat and gave her your best Viktor impression. “If you don’t succeed at first, you must try again, after hiding the evidence, of course."

“That’s pretty good, actually. People here judge on sound alone. I’ve been hiding it for years, and you caught it in minutes.” She grinned. “It does take practice and a good ear.” 

You both fell into a comfortable silence, her checking your wounds and you reminiscing about the old days.

“When was the attack?” You asked suddenly, and she looked up from examining your ankle. “Two nights.” “What time is it now?”  “7 AM.” “Who survived?”

“You.” She grinned. “Councilor Medarda, Councillor Talis, Councillor Shoola, and Councillor Salo.”

Your ears drowned with the sound of your heartbeat. Did you go through all of this for this to end up the same way? Were you going to lose your friend again?

"Ah, yes, someone else was found in the rubble.” Your eyes snapped open as she got up from her crouched position. “The other Hextech founder... What’s his face? Lanky, tall, always standing behind Councilor Talis.

"Viktor?” You whispered, and she nodded.

“Yes, that one.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He is alive. For now. The calmness you had from the news was quickly replaced by another violent attack soon.

“Did they announce the remembrance speech day?” You asked quickly.

“I don’t think they even announced the public funeral dates, let alone announce the speech day.” She scribbled something on the board at the foot of your bed. “Well, my job here is done. I hope they go easy on you.”

She nodded, and you nodded back, turning to lay back down on the bed.

You had to figure out a way to stop that speech day. Or stop Mel, Jayce, and Viktor from attending, which would be impossible since Mel would be the one giving out the speech and Jayce was going to follow Mel and Viktor was going to follow Jayce. Or be made to, since these types of events were far from his favorite thing.

Time traveling is complicated, especially when nobody seems to know you.

You frowned. Why did nobody know you? I mean, the enforcers at the hexgate sure, but the ones in the Academy? You were practically a light fixture there, with the amount of time you spent inside.

And then it hit you like a rocket. They didn’t know you because you either didn’t exist or had a completely other life. So there was another possibility to your whole existence in this place. You could have time traveled, yes, but what was stopping whatever did this to you from making you jump through time and space?

What if this was another dimension, another universe, another timeline? What if the gods or whoever was trying to add variants to the timeline and see what got them the best results? 

Your head was about to explode with this new information. Being cuffed to this bed in this brightly lit room was not helping the situation either.

You needed to get out. Without knowing what was the catalyst in this universe for the rise of the Herald, you couldn't stop it. You could warn Viktor; what better way to stop him from himself if he knew the consequences? But what if warning him was exactly what made him go through with it? His magnum opus actually worked for better or worse.

Introducing a single keystroke of a sonata could change the whole tune. You had to warn him, discreetly. Which you couldn’t because you were cuffed to a bed.

Reality moved, and for the first time since it did, you focused on it. It felt like when you’d be in the lab and you could feel a spark of something in the wrong place, waiting for the right circumstance to zap. Another whisper. A soundless gasp reverberated around you. The sound of metal vibrating as it’s struck made waves around you, like a stone that hit the water. 

You managed to decipher, in between the waves, a new rune. 

Whatever powers were drip-feeding you, these runes hadn’t failed you yet. You looked around for a pen, a dusty surface. Nothing. You looked at the hand with the rune scarred into it. Nothing.

You looked at the side table. A glass of water. You tilted it on the table, but as you drew the rune, you watched as it became disfigured. The water wasn’t keeping its shape on the flat surface.

Quickly, you patted the side of your bedding down, making it as smooth as possible. When it was flat enough, you dipped your fingers in the water and drew the rune on the sheet.

Stop the attack. Flick. Nothing.

Did you need it to be broader or more detailed? You tried again.

Save Piltover. Flick. Nothing Stop the Herald. Flick. Nothing

You flailed your hands around in frustration. The rattling of the cuff on the metal side of the bed echoing around is this wrapped reality. 

"Just unlock, you piece of—"

Growing frustrated, you punched the rune. Something clicked, and your hand was freed.

The world got back to normal, and you inspected your wrist, your gaze shifting from your wrist to the cuff. 

You shook your head to clear it and immediately made your way out of the bed, limping your way out of the six-bed infirmary. Some of the orderlies looked at you sharply, but with the attack they seemed to have their hands full, choosing to effectively ignore you. 

You grabbed someone’s jacket from the foot of a bed and put it on, thanking the gods they had kept your socks on.

The hospital was crowded, and you took that opportunity to make your way towards the exit. You kept your walk brisk and your head down, trying to walk around everything and everybody. Your heart was at your throat. Sneaking was never your forte; the last time you did, your father caught you halfway out the gates of the manor. You sighed, remembering the way he made fun of you more than argued. Footsteps light as a cannonball. You were usually the distraction for the sneaking, being the preferred go-to person for when the boys wanted to sneak a particular piece of equipment into the lab and didn’t need anyone to know. Especially Heimerdinger.

Forgetting your misadventures for a moment, you look up and see the glass doors, and beyond them the street. A couple of more steps. You quickened your pace, breaking into a small, limping run towards the doors.

The fresh air made you stop as it hit you in the face and you realized how damp and dense the air in the hospital was. You took a deep breath and started to make your way towards the sidewalk, looking up at the street, trying to map in your head the easiest way to get to the Academy, maybe even Viktor’s apartment, and if both failed, the Skyward Clinic, the topside private hospital. If any of them was hurt, that's where they would place them.

With your route mentally traced, you turned around to go down the correct route when something—or better, someone—made you stop dead in your tracks.

The Sheriff of Piltover to be, Caitlyn Kiraman, was standing right behind you. One eyebrow raised, arms crossed, eyes red and puffy. The scowl on her face contorting her pretty features.

You are about to run in the other direction, knowing that getting sent to jail would not help in your 'save-Piltover-from-the-Hextech-co-creator-genius-by-saving-said-Hextech-co-creator-genius’ plan when you feel the presence of two people behind you.

“I am not in the mood for games,” Caitlyn said, her voice matching her rigid stance. “If you are well enough to walk, you are well enough to talk. I can bring you in conscious or not. Your choice.”

“Why am I being arrested?” You asked, knowing full well that the trail of unconscious enforcers you left behind two days ago wasn’t exactly lawful.

She simply nodded to the enforcers behind you. They grabbed your arms unceremoniously and cuffed you, shoving you in the back of an Enforcer van.

············ • ············

Groaning, you rest your forehead on the table, the cool temperature of the metal helping the headache. You are sitting inside a concrete room, with your hands cuffed to the table. Caitlyn had left you there to stew.

"I'll be back... eventually." She had spat as she closed and locked the door.

With nothing but time to think, you went through your magic runes. With a limited range of motion, you started by drawing them on the dusty table without any intent for them, pushing them out with a tap of your finger.

Move. Tap. A miniscule part of the table seemed to become liquid, like you had thrown a pebble into a calm river, but nothing shifted or moved.

Unlock. Tap. Both of the cuffs and the door behind you clicked open, and you slowly looked between them.

Before you could get up and walk out, the door slammed open with a very puzzled Caitlyn standing just outside. She looked at the door and then you. Shrugging, you turned back to the table, quickly clicking your wrists together to reclose the cuffs.

“Who are you?” She asked, dismissing whatever thought she had previously.

You answer with your name. First and last.

“Adding ‘identity theft’ to your crimes isn’t going to help you. Who are you?”

Nodding your sighed content. If it’s identity theft, then there is someone with that name. Maybe you’d meet yourself and the dimension would implode. Or they could help you. 

“I would like to speak with my father, Counsellor Rainemour.”

Cailyn raised an eyebrow at your question, setting the folder down and watching you with hawk eyes.

“There is no Counsellor Rainemour.” She stated,coldly. “But the Rainemours are in Piltover, yes?” “Enough with this! Who are you? The truth! Now!”

You opened your mouth to answer but didn’t know how to. So, you repeated your name. She groaned and sat down in front of you.

“Do you know who Jinx is?” "No.” you lied. “Do you have anything to do with the attack on the Council of Piltover?” “Ah… That’s why it’s you. No…”

And finally the penny dropped. The reason why it was Caitlyn who was questioning you. She had been such a normal face to talk to, to look at, to bounce ideas with, that it didn’t dawn on you why she was the one talking to you now. The daughter and soon-to-be head of the Kiraman family. She thought you had something to do with the rocket attack.

“Then what were you doing in the council room?” “I was trying to warn the councilors about it.” “So you knew about it,” she shot quickly. “Knowing of a crime and being involved in it are two very different things.” You fired back. “Why am I being arrested?”

“Trespassing on government grounds, assaulting several officers of the law, entering a governmental space without authorization, and last but not least involvement in the rocket attack that left several of the councilors dead or injured.”

You looked at her and made sure she was looking at you, seeing the frown grow deeper as you raised an eyebrow.

Counselor Rainemour liked to argue. He was a lawyer; his whole life was about arguing. Whether it was about Piltover's government or about the ant's right to the sugar in the house. And you loved to argue back. You not only had the patience but also the stubbornness and willingness to argue with your father. You never won, but you also absorbed anything he gave you. Laws, regulations, how the system worked—you were a sponge. If for nothing else, to use it in a following discussion.

“First, I never intended to trespass. I didn't even know I was trespassing. If you don’t know who I am, then I am not in the Piltover's identification system, which means I am not from Piltover. I took a wrong turn.” You leaned back into the chair, the pride and arrogance of a Topsider dripping on every word. You hated to admit this, but sometimes you missed being this person.

��And ended up inside our most complex method of transportation?” She shot back.

“I’m a visitor; how do I know what the inside of the most complex method of transportation in Piltover looks like?”

“You are not a visitor.” She spat and sat down. “It took you 4 minutes and 45 seconds to go from the top floor of the Gate to the Council room. You took shortcuts and straight lines toward the Academy. You are not a visitor.”

You shrugged at her humorless grin. 

“Circumstantial, I may just have a very good sense of direction.” She was about to open her mouth, and you raised a finger. "Secondly, the only officer I assaulted was the one at the gate, and technically it could be considered self-defense. I was confused. He was shoving me. I got scared. He was a very intimidating figure.”

“What about the other ones?” She gritted her teeth and leaned forward. “What other ones? I didn’t touch anybody else. Ask them. For all we know, they tripped and fell.”

Some part of you was proud to be deflecting all of this; the other knew Caitlyn wouldn’t just forgive and forget. If you got out with even so much as a fine, she would hunt you down.

“Third: "Forcibly" already indicates that it lacked authorization or consent to do whatever you are accusing me of. However...” Now the big finale. “Page 450 of the Piltover’s Government Guidelines, City Emergency chapter, 1st paragraph: any citizen of Piltover is allowed unauthorized entrance to the council chamber if the need to inform the council of a threat to the city is urgent and cannot be delayed. This entrance can be done even if the council is in session.”

You took a little pride in remembering this little snippet. Even if the reason you knew it was not because of your father. In fact, you knew it because Viktor had once made a miscalculation on a hextech concept that Jayce was about to present to the council. So he had burst into the room to try and warn their friend mid-session.

Turns out, saving your friend's face from total academic embarrassment is not a threat to the city.

“You must be really stupid.” At the insult, you narrowed your eyes. "Going on and on with your technicalities, knowing I can use it against you.”

There was one insult that had always made your blood boil. Stupid. You could be called dumb, ditzy, or unintelligent. Anything but stupid. Your Caitlyn knew that; your Caitlyn was the first to punch someone when they did it.

“My father is a lawyer, Miss Kiraman.” Your face turned cold, your tone hard. The shift was enough to make Caitlyn’s eyebrows go up for a millisecond. “He thrived on technicalities. And you can’t use shit from what I just said. You didn’t read me my rights. Nothing I said since you stepped foot in the room can or will be used against me. This…” You pointed between the two of you. “Is nothing more than two friends catching up. Your grief is clouding your judgment.”

For a second, the tension was as loud as a trumpet, and the silence was as thick as a fog. Caitlyn slammed her hands on the table and leaned into it, getting her face an inch away from yours, only to be stopped by someone shoving the door open.

“What are you doing, Miss Kiraman?” An unfamiliar female voice announced from behind you.

············ • ············

Viktor didn’t believe in luck. 

Because if he did, all his accomplishments could have been derived from it. So he just didn’t believe in it much. Sure, maybe finding some coins on the floor was luck, but not much more than that.

Everything he did and does is to make sure nothing is left to luck or chance. Every number on the blackboard, every calculation on his blueprints.

But now, standing in the middle of the destroyed council room, Viktor felt lucky. Extremely lucky.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @adithsaley @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa

[hrrtshape]

hi Emma,

I wanna ask what the void state is? please and thankyou!

✶ EXPLAINING THE VOID STATE.

the void state is basically a state of deep consciousness where you feel empty but in a powerful, limitless kind of way. like, imagine your mind being a blank canvas—completely detached from the outside world, just being there in pure stillness. no thoughts, no distractions, just you chilling in this black, endless abyss of potential. it’s where people say you can manifest literally anything because there’s nothing holding you back.

⭒ ˚ ₊ ⋆ WELL, EMMA, THAT SOUNDS FANTASTIC! HOW DO I GET THERE?

people usually do meditations, affirmations, or breathwork to hit the void state. the key is to relax, focus inward, and let go of all the noise. you’re basically tuning out of this reality and into your inner space.

SET THE MOOD. get comfy. lie down or sit in a cozy position where your body can relax without distractions. dim the lights, grab a blanket, and maybe play soft, ambient sounds (or just embrace the silence).

RELAX YOUR BODY. start with deep breathing. inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4, exhale for 4 (repeat a few times). then do a mental body scan—relax your toes, then your legs, then your chest, etc. until you feel like a puddle of calm.

QUIET THE MIND. focus on nothingness. easier said than done, i know, i know, but try to let go of any thoughts that pop up. some people imagine a black void or empty space to help. if thoughts creep in, don’t fight them—just let them pass and gently refocus.

AFFIRM YOUR INTENT. use affirmations to remind yourself you’re entering the void. whisper (or think) things like.....

"i am in the void.” “i am pure awareness.” “i am limitless.”

say them until you feel it.

DETACH AND SURRENDER. here’s the key—don’t force it. just let yourself be. the void isn’t about trying hard; it’s about releasing everything. trust that you’re exactly where you need to be, even if it doesn’t feel dramatic.

SIGNS YOU'RE IN THE VOID. you feel detached from your body or surroundings. there’s a deep stillness or “nothingness” sensation. you’re hyper-aware, but everything feels quiet.

MANIFESTING...OR CHILL. once you’re there, you can affirm what you want, visualise your desires, or just bask in the calm. this is YOUR moment to do whatever you like.

⭒ ˚ ₊ ⋆ IS IT REQUIRED FOR MY SHIFTING JOURNEY?

the void state is cool and all, but let me be clear—you do NOT need it to manifest, shift, or achieve your dreams. belief, consistency, and confidence in yourself are just as powerful. the void is like an optional bonus round; sure, it’s great if you get there, but it’s not the be-all and end-all. you already hold the power to change your reality through your thoughts and intentions alone. so don’t stress if the void feels elusive—your belief in yourself is enough. always has been, always will be.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto's obsession p.6

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed part 5 or if you want to read it from the beginning here's my masterlist :)

As the car wound its way back to the city, you stared out the window, your thoughts a tangled mess of guilt, worry, and longing. The cabin had been a perfect escape, but now, reality loomed large. George’s angry words echoed in your mind, his betrayal clear in his tone.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him—your brother, your best friend, the one who had always been there for you. He didn’t understand, and that hurt more than anything. But you couldn’t blame him entirely. The situation was far from normal, and the age gap, the secrecy, and the intensity of your relationship with Toto only added fuel to the fire.

Toto’s hand rested on your knee, grounding you as the car drove on. “What’s on your mind, love?” His voice was soft but attentive, his thumb brushing small circles on your skin.

You hesitated before answering. “George,” you admitted quietly. “I want to fix things with him. I don’t want him to hate me, Toto. He’s my brother.”

Toto’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. “Give him time,” he said smoothly. “He’ll come around. He loves you.”

You sighed, unsure. “Maybe… maybe I could invite him over for dinner? If he sees us together, sees how happy I am, he might understand. He might see that you’re good for me.”

Toto’s hand froze for the briefest of moments before resuming its soothing movements. “That’s… an idea,” he said, his voice measured. His mind, however, raced in another direction entirely. Dinner? A chance to prove himself? No, this was the perfect opportunity for something far greater.

He’d known from the moment he saw you that you were meant to be his, and though George’s interference annoyed him, it wouldn’t change the outcome. You were his. You belonged with him. And there was no better way to secure that than to ensure everyone knew you were irrevocably tied to him.

“Yes,” he said, his tone more assured now. “Dinner could be perfect. Let’s do it.”

You glanced at him, relief softening your features. “You think it’s a good idea?”

He smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. “I think it’s an excellent idea, darling. Leave the planning to me.”

Back at the apartment, Toto wasted no time. As you busied yourself unpacking and texting George with the invitation, Toto retreated to his office, his mind buzzing with plans. This wasn’t just about dinner anymore. This was about solidifying your bond, about ensuring that no one—not George, not anyone—could ever come between you.

The ring had been in his possession for weeks, a simple but elegant piece that he knew would suit you perfectly. He’d been waiting for the right moment, the right opportunity to ask you to be his forever. And now, with George’s distrust threatening to cause a rift between you, there was no better time.

If George saw how committed you were to each other, how deeply he loved you and cared for you, maybe he’d back off. Or at the very least, he’d know there was no changing your mind. You were his.

He pulled out the velvet box, turning it over in his hands as a satisfied smile spread across his face. Yes, dinner would be perfect.

Meanwhile, you were in the kitchen, nervously typing out a message to George.

Me: Hi George. I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner tomorrow night. I want to talk. I want to make things right.

You stared at the screen, anxiously awaiting a response. It felt like an eternity before your phone buzzed.

George: I don’t know if that’s a good idea.

Your heart sank, but you refused to give up.

Me: Please. Just give me a chance to explain. I miss you.

Another long pause. Then finally:

George: Fine. What time?

Relief washed over you, and you quickly replied with the details before setting your phone down. You turned to find Toto watching you from the doorway, a soft smile on his face.

“George is coming,” you said, your voice hopeful. “I really think this will help.”

Toto stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It will,” he said confidently. “It will be a night to remember.”

You didn’t notice the glint in his eye, the silent promise he was making to himself. Tomorrow would be more than just a dinner. It would be the beginning of forever.

[maddiethedogstories]

The Baby Doctor

Reposting this because it seems to have disappeared from this blog for some reason! Enjoy!

This wasn't supposed to happen! She was never supposed to be here. She was a smart, intelligent, capable woman. She had graduated from medical school for God's sake. But, she had pissed off the wrong nurse. Now, here she was, helplessly her diapers for the entertainment of the whole labor and delivery night shift.

It has been the third week of Dr. Bun's residency. She was on the tail end of a horrendous on-call shift. She was working through her charts and, in her delirium, got sloppy in her attention to detail. She accidentally ordered that one of her patients should be given a deadly amount of pain killers to deal with post-delivery pain.

Luckily for her patient, the doctor supervising the young doctor did not trust her yet. He caught her mistake, fixed it, then tracked down Dr. Bun to give her some aggressive constructive criticism. That's where Dr. Bun fucked up.

Rather then owning her mistake and promising to do better, Dr. Bun deflected the blame onto the nursing staff. Specifically, she alleged the nurse treating the patient, Nurse Angela, must have got in the system and messed up the order. Dr. Bun's supervisor was skeptical, but chose to trust his newest charge. He let the resident off with a warning and went to give the nurse a piece of his mind.

Unfortunately for Dr. Bun, the software the hospital used to treat patients kept careful record of precisely who made what orders. Fortunately for the girl, however, her supervisor had no idea that software has that capability. Nurse Angela, in the other hand, was very aware of it.

A couple of days later, when Dr. Bun was back in the hospital changing into her scrubs for the shift, Nurse Angela walked into the room holding two things--a print out from the record keeping software pinning the deadly medication order on Dr. Bun and a bulky, white adult diaper.

"Dr. Bun, I have a bone to pick with you. You pinned a potentially deadly mistake on me when, both you and I know I had nothing to do with it," Nurse Angela said. "That sort of dishonest, manipulative behavior is something I'd expect from a naughty toddler, not a doctor."

Dr. Bun began to feel upset at being challenged so directly by a person she considered beneath her.

"I didn't lie! You must have screwed up my orders, nurse," Dr. Bun, spitting out the word nurse as if it was the worst epithet imaginable.

Nurse Angela just calming walked up to the young, arrogant doctor and handed her the print out of the record confirming Dr. Bun's mistake.

"That is not what this says. Did you know dishonesty is a fireable offense at this hospital? One that the hospital reports to the medical board as well as any future employers?" Nurse Angela asked rhetorically. The older nurse smiled as the young woman's face dropped.

"I… uh… I'm so sorry! I'll do anything to make this up to you! Anything, just, please, don't tell anyone!" The resident pleaded.

The nurse's grin widened, becoming predatory. She motioned with the white, fluffy object in her other hand.

"Well, like I said Doctor, you've been acting more like a toddler than the responsible adult you are supposed to be. I think you need a reminder of that at all times from now on. Until I decide otherwise, if you want to keep your job here, you will wear and use one of these at all times when you are at work. The hospital's bathrooms are off limits to you, and, like the naughty toddler you are, you are not allowed to change yourself. If you want your wet or messy butt changed, you will have to track down one of the nurses in my labor and delivery unit and convince them to change you, understood?"

The young woman had no idea how to respond to that. Her eyes darted between the document in her hand and the bulky adult diaper being held by the nurse. Thoughts of being fired and her career being ruined darted through her head. She couldn't afford to pay back her student loans if she wasn't working as a doctor.

Backed into a corner, Dr. Bun did the only thing she could. She accepted Nurse Angela's offer.

Dr. Bun immediately found herself changed into the first of what would be many diapers by the nurse in the locker room. The next few weeks were full of humiliation and torment for the doctor as she adjusted to her knew position as the nursing units pet toddler, but, eventually her work days fell into a comfortable pattern.

She would use the restroom just prior to leaving work to minimize the risk of messy 'accidents.' She'd report to work where one of the nurses would help her get dressed for her shift. Then, she would proceed with her day as normal, seeking out a nurse for a change when she felt her diaper get too full.

Yes, it was humiliating to have the waistband of her scrubs pulled back or her crotch squeezed by another woman to have her diaper checked. Yes, it sucked laying on a locker room bench while her ass was wiped by someone she considered her subordinate. However, the human mind was resilient and could get used to anything once it happened enough.

Plus, her new situation has some benefits. She was getting praised by her supervisors for how well she worked with the nursing staff. Plus, not having to run to the bathroom all the time gave her more freedom to care for her patients. After a month as the hospital's diapered doctor, Dr. Bun would actually describe things as going well.

Nurse Angela was happy to see Dr. Bun's turn around, but noticed she was starting to get cocky again. The positive reviews from her supervisors lead her to once again become increasingly condescending towards the nursing staff. So, to remind the young doctor of her position, the nurse made Dr. Bun another offer she couldn't refuse.

That's how the young, professional woman with a medical degree found herself here. Nurse Angela has thrown a special, team building party at her home for all of her fellow labor and delivery nurses. The young doctor was also invited as entertainment.

When Dr. Bun arrived, she was stripped of her adult clothes. She was diapered, put in an childish shirt with padded mittens, and had a pacifier slipped in her mouth. She was instructed she was nothing more than a baby for the evening, not allowed to speak, walk, or care for herself in anyway. Worst of all, a suppository was shoved up her cute little bottom.

A baby blanket was laid in the middle of Nurse Angela's living room and she was instructed to stay on it. As her co-workers arrived and began to surround her, cooing at her like she was an actual baby, the babified doctor's stomach began to rumble and cramp. Once the last guest arrived, she couldn't take it anymore. Tears of embarrassment running down her face, Dr. Bun got onto all fours, sticking her diapered ass into the air as a wet fart escaped her butt cheeks.

Nurse Angela looked down and smiled. She drew everyone's attention to the scene. "Look everyone, I think the baby's about to make a stinky for us!"

Dr. Bun's coworkers laughed as they watched her lose control. Closing her eyes and grunting loudly, Dr. Bun pushed out a huge load of crap into her bulky diaper. She closed her eyes as she did it, pretending she was anywhere but here. While she had messed herself before, and many of these women had in fact changed one of her messy diapers, it had never been so public and so humiliated. The nurses cheered the doctor on as she debased herself like an infant for enjoyment.

When the doctor was finished, Nurse Angela beant down and whispered in her ear. "Remember doctor, no matter how good you are at your job or how many accolades you receive, to us, you will never be more than a stupid, untrustworthy little baby. Now sit in your mess and play with your toys. It's going to be a long night."

Dr. Bun could only do as she was told, suck on her pacifier and cry as she came to terms with the fact that she'd be these nurses plaything for the rest of her life.

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 4. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

see masterlist (PINNED) for all parts

warnings: mentions of sex, cigarette and alcohol use. age gap (reader!22)

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

Cont’d.

You were still sat in the parking lot. You wipe your eyes with your hands, smearing your mascara before wiping your nose on the sleeve of your coat as you turn on the engine. The radio begins to play Don’t You Want Me by The Human League. You groan as you change the station. Heart Of Glass by Blondie begins to play instead.

“No, nevermind. I hate my life.” You say bitterly, turning off the radio entirely. You begin to drive away with The Corinium in your rearview. “God this is so fucked!” You exclaim to no one, trying to keep yourself level enough to not crash the hunk of metal on wheels.

You manage to drive the rest of the way in complete silence back to your home. You put the car in park, resting your forehead against the steering wheel to cry, very loudly, once more.

A passerby and her child both stare at you like you were mentally unwell, causing you to forcibly smile through your tears and give them a thumbs up. As they clear out of view, you sigh and finally get out of the vehicle.

You kick off your shoes as you enter your apartment, throwing your coat over your armchair. You open your fridge in an instant, pulling out the bottle of wine Taggie had gifted you a week ago.

"Incase of any personal celebrations, y/n." She had told you. To be fair, she never said you couldn't just simply drink it to wallow in pity.

Two hours later and one wine bottle down, you're loudly doing karaoke to your favorite radio station. You've barely had anything to eat due to stress that day, and the alcohol was getting a real grip on you. You're laying on the couch, slurring your lyrics as the phone begins to ring incessantly.

"Go away...!" You moan, covering your ears with a throw pillow. It goes off once again, causing you to finally get up and answer.

"Hello who is this? What do you want?” You say, barely coherent enough for the person on the other end.

"Y/n? Where are you?" You hear Declan say, lots of commotion in the background. He was definitely at Bar Sinister, celebrating with everyone else.

"Home, obviously. You called my landline." You say in annoyance, leaning against the wall.

"I mean, why aren't you here? I wanted to see you and... and talk about things." He says quietly. You could imagine him at the pay phone in the corner of the bar, hiding his conversation from everyone else.

"I'm not coming there." You mumble into the phone, toying with the cord. "Your wife doesn't want me anywhere near you, didn't you know that?" You ask in confusion.

There's a moment of silence before Declan speaks again. "No, I didn't." He says. "That's... I had no idea, y/n. I'm so sorry for bringing you into this." He mutters with an incantation of disappointment behind his words. "I am my own person, I hope you know that. My wife isn't allowed to choose what I do if she lets herself do whatever."

"I know, but I don't want to be the reason you lose your job Declan, or your marriage." You whisper, trying to not cry once again. "I'm sorry, I'm really fucking drunk. I don't know if I can talk right now." You stammer, trying to hold down the bile coming up your throat.

"I understand y/n. But please, let's talk about this." Declan pleas.

"I have to go, I don't feel so good." You hastily hang up the phone, nearly falling over yourself as you make it to your bathroom. You lean over the toilet on your knees, throwing up into the porcelain bowl. You can hear the phone ringing again, but you have no power to answer it again. You lean your head against the seat, groaning. At least you felt a bit better after throwing up.

You eventually get up, retrieving some ibuprofen from your cabinet and popping two in your mouth, running the sink and dipping your mouth underneath it in order to swallow the pills. You knew your liver was spiteful of you right now, but you didn't care as long as you were going to feel better later.

You bring yourself to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it up with water. You take small, consistent sips in order to avoid puking again. You walk over to your couch and put the glass down on the side table, slumping into it as your music continues to blare throughout the living room.

-

You wake up to loud, repetitive knocks on your door, wiping your mouth clear from drool.

"Fuck I fell asleep." You whisper, looking at the clock. It had only been an hour.

You begrudgingly get up, turning down your radio before walking over to your front door. You undo the latch, opening it to reveal Declan.

He turns and faces you, hand on his hips like an annoyed father. You both stare at each other, Declan taking in how disgruntled you looked. Hair knotted, eyes surely puffy. You must've looked insane.

“Declan? How did you know where I live?” You ask, bewildered by his presence.

His face softens when he sees you. "Don’t worry about that.“ He says. “I got worried when you disappeared over the phone, so I came to see if you were okay." He explains.

“Okay… Well, I’m clearly doing great.” You say weakly, gesturing to yourself.

“Y/n, can I please come in?” Declan asks, frowning slightly.

You nod, stepping out of the way to allow him entrance.

Declan had never been in your apartment before, taking in the layout and decor mindfully. "Your apartment, it's very... you." He comments, looking at the black cat clock ticking back and forth on the wall with curiosity.

"Is that good or bad?" You mumble, closing the front door and locking it.

"Good, very good." He says, turning back to face you. "Seb told me you just got up and left before the interview was over. Did that have anything to do with me?" He says, cautiously stepping closer.

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm still drunk." You admit, holding up a finger. “But, Maud called me at my desk right before the interview. She found out because I left my stupid fucking bra behind by accident and now I have done irreparable damage.” You breathe out, laughing at yourself so you don't cry.

Declan says nothing, slowly taking you into an embrace. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispers into your hair. “I made the choices, not you.”

“But it’s still my fault, too.” You barely say loud enough, a few stray tears leaving your eyes again. You do not reciprocate the hug, simply staying limp in his arms. You had worn yourself down.

“Please, don’t cry.” Declan sighs, pulling back to wipe your tears with his thumb. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Your stomach loudly grumbles, causing you to laugh again. “Sorry.” You say meekly, holding your stomach.

"Have you had anything to eat since this morning?" He asks, furrowing his brows as he grabs your arms.

"No, I haven't been able to keep anything down." You mumble, your stomach grumbling again on cue.

"Jesus, y/n. Please go lay down and watch the telly, I'm gonna cook you something." He says, directing you to your couch.

"I don't really have any groceries. I need to buy some more." You explain as you lay back down, Declan opening your fridge to reveal some skimmed leftovers, two eggs and a block of cheese.

"Mm, I see." He closes the fridge. "I'm gonna go to the store quickly, then. Stay put and keep drinking your water." He says, heading back towards the front door.

"Declan, you don't have to-" You try to say.

"Ah, don't argue please." He turns to you to say. “I’ll be back.” He opens the door and disappears back outside, closing it behind him.

You close your eyes and sigh. With the dull ache in your head and your lack of energy, you had no power to fight with Declan. You were afraid of the consequences of his arrival, but he was just as stubborn as the rest of them. Nothing you could say or do would stop him from giving a damn about you.

About fifteen minutes later, Declan returns. “I hope you like having fruits and vegetables. Taggie’s taught me to be more concerned about my diet, trying to spread the good word.” He says, taking off his shoes after placing two plastic bags worth of groceries on the counter.

“If you can manage to fit all of that in my shitty little fridge, I’ll applaud you.” You say, opening one eye to look over at him. “Thank you Declan. For this.” You say, sitting back up.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m the reason you’re feeling like shit, it’s up to me to change that.” He smiles, although seeming quite tired himself.

“Are you sure you should be here? I’m just worried if anyone–“

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, what I decide to do is on my own volition. I’m a grown man, y/n.” He says matter-of-fact, leaning over your kitchen counter.

“You should be celebrating with everyone. You shouldn’t be here.” You try to say sternly, crossing your arms.

Declan stands up straight, mimicking your body language. “I told everyone I needed to go home. Taggie and Maud already left before I did so I highly doubt they know, nor care.” He explains, opening a box of pasta. “I hope you don’t mind a simple spaghetti dish, I’m not as great of a cook as you or my daughter are.” He admits meekly.

“Do whatever, I’m not stopping you from anything clearly.” You sigh, laying down once more.

-

After you and Declan eat dinner together, he allows you to fall asleep with your head in his lap while watching the T.V.

When you wake up the next morning, you found yourself in your bed with your nightgown on somehow, realizing Declan must’ve, quite literally, tucked you into bed.

A piece of paper from your daily planner lies on your bedside table, picking it up as you slowly read it through heavy eyelids.

Y/n,

I hope you slept well, and had pleasant dreams of home. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay around, I would’ve if I could.

With that being said, I want to give you the choice of whether or not you wish to continue with us. I know that I told you no one can affect my choices, and I am firm with knowing what I want; but I do not wish to ignore your needs or wants. You are your own person as well. I care about you greatly, and have found myself more fond of you as time goes on. However, it is not worth being selfish at the cost of your suffrage.

I want what is best for you, and I hope you do too.

P.S., Leftover spaghetti for you in the fridge.

Sincerely,

Declan

You slowly put the paper back down, tucking your knees into your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. It was Sunday, technically you had until tomorrow to give him an answer if you were to be kind about time.

What were you going to do? You couldn't deny it; you were beginning to fall in love with Declan O'Hara. Quite frankly, you think he might be feeling the same way. Would he leave his wife for you? That would be ridiculous. Everyone cheats on their partners here, but no one divorces. God forbid, right?

You get up finally after staring at the wall for ten minutes, begrudgingly walking into the living/kitchen space. All your dishes were washed and left out to dry, thanks to Declan.

You smile to yourself, grabbing ahold of the phone off the receiver with an idea. You dial Seb's number, waiting a few moments before he picks up.

"Hello, Seb speaking." He says groggily, clearly had been woken up by your call.

"Seb, hi. Sorry for calling at eleven in the morning." You jest, poking fun at his tired voice considering it wasn't even that early.

"Y/n, nice to hear from you. Is everything alright? You don't sound too well." He asks, yawning.

"Erm, no. I don't feel well, I think I've gotten the flu or something." You say, your hangover making you sound like you weren't lying. "Would you mind taking on my tasks at work for the next few days? Tell Tony for me, he honestly scares me too much for me to call him myself." You admit sheepishly, rubbing your forehead. In full honesty, you wanted to avoid the office like the plague. You were at the tipping point of whether or not you go back to America and pretend none of this ever happened.

"Course, I'm sorry to hear about that. Can I do anything for you? Bring you meds or tea of the sort?" Seb offers.

"No, thanks though. I'm just gonna rot with what I've got kicking around here. My mom's a health nut, she sent me here with all kinds of crap." You say, leaning against the wall.

"Alright then. You got it, madam. Take care of yourself yeah?" He says.

"Will do. See you Seb."

"Bye y/n."

You mount the phone back on the receiver, keeping your gaze on it as you continue to lean against the wall. You debated calling Declan as well to thank him for everything last night, but you fought against it. You'd rather sit and hide until you sorted out your mind before speaking to him again. It was only fair, really.

You walk over to your fridge, retrieving the container of spaghetti. You grab a fork as well, making your way to the couch. You turn on the television and begin to eat the leftovers. You didn't care enough to warm it up, you felt like punishing yourself by eating it cold.

-

As the the week passes, you find yourself indulging in your old hobbies, such as reading and painting. You bought a cheap art set from an art supply store on the shopping strip a few blocks away from your home, and used books from the secondhand shop. Taggie had come to hang out with you twice, chalking up your absence from work due to being homesick. Although your free time was peaceful, you knew better than to waste away instead of going to work.

On the day of Miss Corinium, you had clocked back into work. Seb convinced you to do so, and caught you up with what you missed in the meantime.

"So the Thatcher interview went to James Vereker instead?" You ask in bemusement, walking down the hall alongside your colleague.

"Yep, and Declan did not take it kindly. He took the week off as well, actually. Neither of you have been in until now. People suspect he had more things going on and that was just the final nail in the coffin." Seb says, both of you returning to your desk space.

"Really?" You ask, trying to hide your worries behind gossiping with Seb. It was quite entertaining, really. You wouldn't have expected him to be the nosiest out of everyone else, but you kept getting surprises every other day.

"Yep, drinking like a fucking maniac too." He adds sympathetically. You frown at that statement, becoming increasingly worried for Declan as minutes pass.

"Come on everybody, down to the stage please." Tony exclaims, everyone getting up from their stations.

You make your way down alongside Seb, noticing Daysee hastily walking ahead the two of you.

“Daysee!" You exclaim, the blonde turning around with wide eyes. "I've missed you!" You go to hug her, in which she backs away like a scared cat.

"Sorry, not right now." She quickly whispers, continuing to walk away. She seemed as though she'd been crying.

"What the fuck is happening?" You ask Seb, who shrugs in equal confusion.

As you all make it to the sound stage, you see Declan nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes land on you, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Y/n, long time no see.” He slurs, leaning up against the wall to smile at you.

“Get a fucking grip, O’Hara. What the fuck are you doing?” You seethe, disappointed by his actions.

“What’d mean? The fuck are you doing? Haven’t said a word to me all week.” He mutters, trying to reach for the glass behind you.

You grab his arm tightly, causing his eyes to go wide. “This is not the time nor fucking place for this. I have every right to keep to myself. I’m doing my job and you’re doing yours, right?” You whisper harshly, pushing his arm back to him. You step back and watch as Seb attempts to entice Declan with a mug of water, to which he takes begrudgingly as he keeps his eyes on you.

"Daysee, nice dress." He compliments the blonde as she walks by, who gives him a look of distraught as she begins to cry.

You and Seb instantly look at each other in understanding. He forcefully gives Declan back his blazer before following her.

Declan looks at you with confusion. “What’d I do?” He asks.

“I don’t know, but maybe you can do us all a favour and shut the fuck up.” You retort, following Seb.

-

You were fuming in that control room.

You sat directly beside Daysee, who gripped your hand the whole time. She barely looked at anyone as she called cues, causing you to trace your thumb over her hand as you tried not to frown yourself. She did not wish to speak on it further or make a bigger deal of it, to which you and Seb both respected as the show had to go on.

James Vereker and Sarah Stratton go on to introduce all the judges, your stomach growing a pit as James says Declan's name, the camera cutting to a very intoxciated O'Hara. "Back in the saddle after his indisposition earlier this week." He quips, the camera then moving onto the last and very, very least man on the panel.

"Ex-prebendary from the Church of England, Reverend Fergus Penney." Sarah says, everyone clapping along at the line up.

Daysee's grip on your hand tightens as Reverend Penny appears on screen, causing you to press your forehead to her shoulder briefly as the show continues on.

You watch as the television screens show Declan seeming rather displeased with who he was sat beside. You begin to realize he may know what has gone on, repositioning yourself in your seat as you continue to watch onwards.

Seb attempts to put a hand on Daysee's shoulder, to which she jumps slightly.

"Don't." You whisper, shaking your head at him as he steps back. You wince as you watch Declan barely manage to fill a glass of water.

"Reverend Penney, are you looking for perfection tonight?" James asks after they showcase a lineup of young, fit women.

"Oh... well, perfection is not my concern. The qualities that I'm looking for in the inaugural Miss Corinium, uh, consists of, uh, a healthy body and sound morals." The old man says, causing you to purse your lips. Hypocrite. You think to yourself.

As if Declan has read your mind, he begins to interject. "You filthy, hypocritical, old git." He spits out, standing up to sucker punch Reverend Penney.

The entire control room gasps at the sight, along with the audience.

"What the fuck is he doing? Cut the feed." Cameron Cook exclaims, everyone rushing to end the livestream.

You race over the the viewing glass, watching Wesley Emerson hold back Declan from fighting furthermore.

"You'll get what's coming to you!" Declan yells, pointing at Reverend Penny.

"He's ruined everything." Daysee says.

You turn around, watching everyone stare in dismay. After a minute of standing in silence by yourself, you quickly make your way through the room, pushing the doors open to find Declan.

As you run doing the hall, you hear commotion in the office.

You watch as Declan pins Tony against the wall, then eventually proceeds to take a golf club and throw it through the glass. You gasp, covering your mouth.

Declan sees you, his face dropping as you both stand there, staring at each other.

Without hesitation, you gather your belongings and begin to head back down the hallway, this time going towards the exit.

"Y/n, wait!” Declan yells, following you down the stairs. "Y/n, stop! I need to talk to you!"

You push through the rotating entrance door, taken aback by Freddie and Rupert waiting with a car right in front.

"Y/n, are you okay? Do you need a lift?" Rupert asks, noticing your bewilderment as Declan charges outside behind you.

"No, I have my own car. Thanks though." You say, attempting to walk away.

"I just quit my job." Declan says suddenly, directed towards everyone. You look back at him with wide eyes.

"Get in the car, lads. Let's get rat-arsed." Freddie suggests, Rupert opening the door for Declan.

"Y/n, please let me talk to you." Declan pleas once more, standing in front of you with his back towards the other two.

"Declan," You sigh, looking up at him. "About what?" You ask, throw your arms up then dropping them. You watch him fail to answer, as you two were not alone. "Give it up. Go get rat-arsed, or whatever." You say, squinting in confusion as you say the sentence yourself.

Declan grabs your arm, looking into your eyes. "Please, y/n."

"You’re drunk, Declan." You say firmly, pulling your arm away. “Grow up.” You mutter bitterly.

You watch as Rupert forces him into the car, the door slamming as Declan continues to stare at you through the window. You shake your head in disappointment.

"Y/n..." Rupert says, causing you to look at him instead. "I see how he looks at you." He whispers, smiling with sympathy. "If you really care about him, it's worth fighting for. Believe me." He says, causing your eyes to widen. Did he know too?

"And why should I listen to you?" You say quietly, raising a brow at him.

"Because, I can tell when something is worthwhile than most. Also, between you and me, he seems happier with you around." He adds. "Just trust me." He says, placing a hand on your shoulder before dropping it. "Think about it, yeah?" He finishes, getting into the car before Freddie drives it away.

You stand still for a few seconds, watching the car disappear as you process the day that had fallen upon you. It was rather ludicrous how your first day back after sick leave left you in shambles, but could you expect anything less? Your internship was making you question whether or not journalism was even the career choice for you. It was becoming redundant.

You sigh, making your way to your car.

-

You were sitting in your armchair, attempting to focus on your Murakami novel. Your mind was going a thousand miles an hour, trying to process every single thing that has happened within the past month. It had been two weeks since you last saw Declan, and you were sure you'd never see him again as he did not attempt to reach out to you in any way since his departure at The Corinium.

Tony Baddingham had made you all begin to sign contracts, having to hand them in by Friday as a form of devotion and to not hand yourself off to Declan O'Hara and his band of misfits. Apparently, he was attempting to start up a company to take down Corinium.

As your mind consumes you, you quickly head over to your phone, dialing Seb as per usual.

"Seb speaking." He says.

"Seb, this is fucked up. What is happening?" You ask, biting your nails in a nervous tick.

"I don't know." He sighs. "I can't lose my job, y/n. I have to stay at The Corinium."

"Well, me neither. I'm with you on that." You say. "Do you think Tony's going to start firing us? I can't go back home, this job is all I've got." You explain, your hand white knuckling the cord of your phone.

"No, I don't think so. He’s got us signing papers for god’s sake. What's the worse that can happen? We haven't done anything to make Lord Baddingham think we're with Declan, have we?"

You go quiet for a moment before clearing your throat. "Right, course not. That would be ridiculous." You say, grabbing the back of your neck.

"I'll see you on Monday. It's alright, y/n. We've got each other." He reassures.

"Right, course. Bye Seb." You say, hanging up the phone.

As soon as you hang up the phone, your receiver starts to ring. You pick it up once again in confusion.

"Hello, who is this?" You ask.

"Y/n, it's Taggie." She says quietly.

"Taggie, love, hi. Did you want to come over?"

"...Can I? I feel like my house is falling apart. I could use your company."

"Well of course. Is everything alright?" You querie.

"No, not even in the slightest. I'll tell you once I get there."

"Yeah, no problem. See you soon."

"See you."

You hang up the phone again, groaning loudly. "I swear to god if it is possible to have a heart attack at twenty two it will happen to me of all people." You say to yourself, putting your head in your hands as you rub your face.

About twenty minutes later, Taggie enters your apartment. You gave her a spare key the last time you came over, figuring it would be nice to allow her to come over and keep you company whenever.

"Y/n, I feel like I'm going fucking crazy." She exclaims, taking off her sneakers.

"Do you need a glass of wine or...?" You suggest, already pouring two.

"Well, if you insist." She tries to jest, leaning against the counter as she presses her hands to her temples.

"What's going on?" You ask, sipping your own glass.

Taggie sighs heavily before speaking. "My mum's gone to London, and I don't think she plans on coming back." She says quietly, staring at the counter. "I would be more upset, but I think my parents giving up on each other was a long time coming." She admits, taking a deep sip of her glass.

"What?" You say, nearly choking on your own wine. "Your mom's leaving Declan?" You ask in dismay.

Declan’s washed up attitude was now finally making sense, and you began to feel guilty for not trying to reach out to him. You figured you were doing what was best, but maybe you were too narrow-minded to really know the answer to that one. You couldn’t help but feel a bit excited over the news.

"Yeah... At least I think she is. She left to rejoin the theatre, which means she definitely will cheat on my dad again so I think he gave up on her.” She says quietly.

“I’m sorry Tags.” You whisper, frowning. You hated to see her upset, any person in their right mind could never wish that upon Taggie.

“Not only that,” She continues on. “Rupert and Freddie have created a television company with my father in hopes it'll take out Corinium. Rupert's idea, in order to help my father pay back his debts.” She says, wincing as she finishes off her glass in another large gulp.

"Yeah, I heard about that. Christ um, that's a lot Taggie.” You pause for a moment. “Rupert really cares about you, doesn’t he?”

Taggie shakes her head slowly. “I don’t think he’s doing all this for me, y/n. That’d be absurd.” She tries to argue.

“Right, because he must be so in love with your dad.” You muse, raising your brows.

"That’s not the point!” She groans. “I want you to join us, y/n." She says, offering you a smile. "Well, I want them to hire you so you can leave the Corinium and still keep your work visa. Does that feel sound to you?" She asks, standing up straight.

You put your glass down, engulfing Taggie in a hug. "God, I could kiss you right now." You say, sighing with relief. "Do you really think this'll work? I'm just worried, cause they've got us signing contracts at Corinium." You ask, sitting back down on your stool.

"Mmm, I’ve heard about that myself." She says. "I accidentally came across Charles Fairburn when I was trying to get signatures. He's already willing to be on our team as a mole." She grins. "I'm not forcing you to do the same, but how do you feel about working for Venturer, y/n?" She asks, placing her hand down on the counter.

"Venturer? That's what they've called it?" You hum, picking up your glass and taking another sip of your wine.

You couldn’t figure out whether or not this was a good choice to make. Realistically, this could potentially send you straight back to America. On the other hand, the reason why you took on journalism was to do something you truly loved, which was speaking for the people. You knew if Venturer made it out alive, you’d have a bigger voice on the team.

Plus, maybe it was worth seeing Declan again. Deep down, you still cared greatly for him. It was your own fault that you had confrontation issues and blew up the situation bigger than it had to be.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it." You say, causing Taggie to grin from ear to ear.

"Yes! I knew you'd say yes." She cheers, jumping slightly on the spot. “We’re hosting dinner at our house tomorrow night for the team. Care to join us?” She asks, her blue eyes lighting up with joy.

“Yeah, absolutely. How can I say no to a Taggie special?” You grin, the both of you laughing together. You were so grateful for Taggie, it seemed like whenever the two of you spent time together, something always turned around for the better.

-

You find yourself standing front of The Priory the next day. It had been quite awhile since the last time you were there, you couldn’t help but take in the view.

Suddenly, Gertrude comes barrelling around the corner at you. You kneel down, greeting the dog eagerly. “Oh hi baby! I missed you!” You coo, hugging the dog and scratching behind her ears. You hear footsteps, looking up and meeting Taggie’s eyes.

“I’m glad you made it.” She says with a smile on her face. “Everyone’s in the back by the garden. Follow me.” She gestures for you to do so, causing you and Gertrude to both make way to the garden.

As you turn the corner, you’re instantly greeted with Declan’s eyes. Rupert was in the middle of speaking to him when he follows his gaze, smirking when he notices you as well. There were others also sat around the table, a few you recognize and some you don’t.

You give Declan a warm smile, watching him reciprocate it as you sit down across from him, following your nametag.

“Y/n, lovely seeing you.” Freddie says, giving you a classic grin as you chuckle lightly.

“Likewise. It’s been a long few weeks, hasn’t it?” You comment, thanking Rupert when he gets up and pours you a glass of wine. You feel your cheeks warm up as you notice Declan’s eyes never leave you, although you were trying your best to look elsewhere.

“Tell me about it. You’re still at Corinium?” Rupert asks, sitting back down.

“Unfortunately. But erm, if you guys will have me I’ll gladly leave. It just depends on how it’ll go with my work visa and all that. Might have to reapply.” You say, shrugging as you sip your wine.

“We’d be more than happy to do so, y/n. Right Declan?” Rupert quizzes, nudging his frozen friend.

Declan blinks rapidly, clearing his throat. “Right, course. We’d love to have you.” He says quietly, looking down at the table briefly before looking at you again.

“Dinner is served!” Taggie announces, carrying out plates with Caitlin and Patrick, both who have returned home from school.

“Hi y/n.” Caitlin says, giving your shoulders a squeeze after she serves your a plate. You smile at her widely.

“So, how has it been without Maud in the house?” Rupert asks, causing half the table to light up in commotion and the other half to stay quiet.

“Rupert.” Lizzie says firmly, smacking his arm.

“What? Sorry I just wanted to know is all, christ you people are no fun.” He remarks, taking a bite of his food.

“It’s been quiet.” Taggie says suddenly, causing you all to fall quiet. “It feels more peaceful, in a way.” She admits, placing down the last plate of food. “Everyone, please enjoy.” She says, finally sitting down beside you.

You look across the table at Declan, who’s looking down at his feet. You taste the first few bites in silence, keeping your gaze on your plate as you listen to other conversations around you. You decide that maybe it was now or never to have a chance to speak with Declan. You just needed to step out briefly.

“I forgot something in my car, I’ll be back.” You say, getting up from your seat. Declan watches you exit dinner, disappearing around the corner.

“I’ll go get us another bottle of wine.” He says, getting up and re-entering the house.

You figured he wasn’t going to bother speaking to you, your heart sinking as you still walk over to your car incase anyone was watching. You lean up against the beater, biting at your nails.

Nearly jumping to your feet, you hear the front door open, revealing Declan. You realize he must’ve gone through the house to avoid suspicion.

He slowly approaches you, hand in his pockets as he halts about five feet away from you.

You turn to face him properly, clearing a few strands of hair from your face as you cross your arms.

“Hi.” He says timidly.

You’ve never seen Declan so reserved before, it was almost humorous.

“Hi.” You say back. “Nice shirt.” You comment, pointing to the Venturer graphic across his firm chest.

“Thanks. Taggie ordered ‘em. You can have one too if you’d like, they’re inside.” He says, giving you a smile. “Um, how’ve you been?” He asks.

“Been better. Trying to keep myself level, it’s not very easy apparently.” You try to joke, pursing your lips. “I’m sorry about the whole Maud thing. I mean it.” You say, shifting your weight from off the car. “You’ve always deserved better.” You mumble.

He nods slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah well, I insisted she go and be happy. It wasn’t cutting it for her here, she was happier in London and I’m happier here. Nothing stays linear.” He admits, shrugging. “I’m beyond it. I mourned our relationship ages ago.” He adds.

“Do you… miss her, at all?” You ask quietly.

“I miss the person I fell in love with. I think that woman and the one she is now are two completely different people.” He says, smiling sadly.

You nod slowly in understanding. “Do you still love her, then?”

Declan bites the inside of his cheek, pausing in deep thought. “I care about her, but I don’t think she is who I really love anymore.”

You furrow your brows at his response. “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”

Declan takes a few steps closer to you. “Y/n, I missed you, a lot.” He admits. “The last time I saw you, I figured that you never wanted to see me again. I wanna know if that’s true or not.”

You drop your arms, staring at Declan as your heartbeat increases rapidly. “Of course I wanted to see you. I just– God, you didn’t call me for two weeks Declan. You didn’t even try to see if that was really how I felt.” You try to argue.

Declan scoffs. “I could say the same, y/n. I didn’t call you because I thought you were crossed with me! The way you spoke to me on my last day at Corinium? How can you expect me to reach out when you gave me the impression that whatever this was-“ He gestures between you two. “-was over with.” He exclaims.

“I don’t know! I figured with the note you left for me that I was worth a call, or even a visit! You drive me fucking crazy because I fell for you, Declan!” You exasperate, Declan’s eyes widen at your statement. “Even if you thought I wanted nothing else to do with you, you could’ve at least tried to–!”

“You have feelings for me?” He whispers.

You pause for a moment, scoffing. “Seriously? That’s all you got from that?”

He steps in close and grabs your face, kissing you desperately.

You don’t react at first, taking in the moment as you begin to kiss him back.

-

After about 20 minutes, the two of you are entangled in the backseat of your car. It took you by surprise that it was even possible to have sex in such a small car, but with the right person– anything is possible.

“I missed this.” You say, humming with your eyes closed. You were sitting on his lap with your head tucked into the side of his neck, your bare torsos pressed against each other.

“Me too.” Declan whispers. “So you like me, eh?” He says, tucking hair behind your ear with a grin. The windows were foggy and your skin was sticky, it felt like a scene from a movie.

You pull your head back and roll your eyes. “I wish I would’ve said it in a better way but… yeah, I think so.” You admit, looking down.

He grabs your chin and lifts it up, forcing you to make eye contact again. “When I said Maud isn’t who I really love anymore, I was referring to you.”

“Ohhh… That makes more sense now.” You say, laughing quietly as Declan shakes his head.

“I thought you were taught literacy in school, y/n.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Declan.” You say with a smile. “I could stay like this forever.” You whisper.“But we need to get back to dinner before anyone sees us.” You say, earning another kiss from him. You laugh against his lips, his mustache tickling your nose as his embrace around you tightens. “I’m serious, you idiot.” You muse, smacking his arm.

“We’ll talk more about this later.” He says, winking as he places a firm smack on your arse.

“Hey!” You exclaim, rolling your eyes as the two of you begin to redress yourselves before getting out of the car.

Declan goes back through the house, showing up about two minutes after you.

“Where’s the wine?” Rupert asks Declan, raising a brow as his eyes scan over the both of you.

“Ah, couldn’t find the one I was looking for.” He simply says, making brief eye contact with you as you both sit back down.

You couldn’t help but continuously smile through the evening, even kicking your feet a little underneath the table whenever Declan spoke.

You knew it was going to be difficult to tell anyone, but at least you knew Rupert was on your side, even if that wasn’t the most ideal person. Besides, you had a feeling something was going on between him and Taggie; they basically had sex with their eyes whenever they were in a room together. There was little to hide, and it assured you that Taggie wouldn’t be that distraught with the idea of you and her father. Hopefully.

As the evening led on, guests start to leave The Priory, leaving you and the O’Hara’s to get ready for slumber.

You had just finished up saying goodnight to Taggie and Caitlin when you entered the guest bedroom, smiling when you see Declan laying upon the mattress. He was reading your book, glasses on that made him look like a history professor.

“What’re you doing here?” You quiz, walking over to the bed.

“Mm, my bed felt too lumpy.” He mumbles, placing the book on his chest.

“Is that so, princess and the pea?” You say sarcastically, climbing in beside him. You grab the book and place it on the bedside table, allowing yourself to cuddle up beside him with your head on his chest.

Declan wraps his arm around you, keeping his other hand behind his head as he traced his fingers along your bare arm. “Nice book you’ve got there. Maybe you’d be interested in proofreading my Yeates piece.” He suggests, in which you hum in response.

“I’d be honored.” You smile, looking up at him. “Are you gonna tell anyone about us?” You ask quietly. You were afraid of any answer he was going to give, in full honesty. Having to deal with a public relationship between the two of you may do more harm than good.

“I think I’d have to ask you to be my girlfriend first, y/n.” Declan jests, placing his glasses on top his head.

Your cheeks flush, causing you to hide your face in his chest. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” You mumble, causing Declan’s chest to vibrate with laughter.

“No, don’t be sorry love.” He squeezes your arm, causing you to look up again. “Y/n,” He clears his throat before continuing. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks.

Your stomach flutters as a big smile stretches across your face. “Controversially young girlfriend you say? Yeah… I think I could do that.” You say, sitting up and bringing your legs over to be on both sides of his hips.

“Is that what people call it now?” He muses, looking up at you. “Hm, has a ring to it.” He mumbles, pulling your face into his as he begins to kiss you for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

-

You both had eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms at some point, finding yourself groggily waking up to the sound of commotion downstairs in the kitchen.

Declan is nowhere to be seen, assuming that he had already gotten up for the day.

You sit up and stretch, smiling lazily to yourself. You put on your own Venturer shirt, staying in a pair of pyjama bottoms you had borrowed from Taggie as you make your way down the stairs.

You are greeted with the sight of the Venturer Team once again, everyone discussing something rather solemnly.

“Good morning!” You say, your smile faltering when everyone looks at you with differentiating facial expressions– all mainly of concern.

Taggie walks through the crowd with a frown as she hands over a newspaper, pointing to the cover.

There were photos of you and Declan printed out on the front page, along with Taggie and Rupert. The headlines were accusing of them preying on younger women, most definitely the doings of Tony Baddingham.

You read the article over and over, your eyes widening with every sentence. You shamefully lower it from your gaze, looking at everyone else.

Well, fuck.

-

SHIT…. Fawk… again i know im literally the one writing this but im like 😐🙁😭 why can no one catch a fucking break. brutal

thank you for the support, this series now has over 100 notes just the first part alone YAYY. thank you for your love and devotion. this new part is my gift to you.

i’m hoping to make the next part the last part but i’m quite sure i said the same thing two parts ago so whatever don’t hold me accountable. CHEERS!

as always,

isabel

[darkfalcone]

We Cannot Repeat This Cycle - 1

Pairing: Dark!Sofia Falcone x Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Thigh Riding, Choking, Kink, Begging, Face Slapping, Threats of Violence, Eventual Stockholm Syndrome.

Summary: Your father owes Sofia money and until she gets paid, she takes you. Unfortunately for you, Sofia takes a liking to you.

Request: Can you please write a fic expanding on the sofia kidnapping reader and getting attached blurb?

You groaned, opening your eyes to find darkness, causing you to panic. You weren’t sure what was going on, but as you tried to stand up, you couldn’t.

“Help!” You screamed out in hopes someone would hear you. “Help me!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the lights were turned on, causing your eyes to water. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to wait until your eyes could get adjusted.

“You’re finally awake,” a familiar voice said. “Didn’t realize you’d take this long to wake up, but it’s whatever.”

You open your eyes, and when you realized it was the Sofia Falcone, you knew you were fucked. You knew your father owed her a lot of money, but you never thought you’d be the one she would take.

“Please let me go,” you whimpered as she got closer to you. “I… I’ll give you money; name your price, and I’ll give it to you.”

Sofia laughed at your pleas, shaking her head as she got closer to you. You were shaking in fear, unsure of what she was going to do to you. You had heard the stories about Sofia being the hangman, and although you would love to sit there and believe that the rumors weren’t true, as she had you tied to the chair, you were having a hard time.

“I don’t want your money, no.” Sofia laughed, getting uncomfortably close to you. “I think you know why you’re here, and I intend to get my money from your father.”

You shook your head. “He’ll never give you a dime, so you’re wasting your time. Let me pay it off, please.”

You bit your lip as you watched her think your plea over, and to your surprise, Sofia pulled away from you a bit. She walked out of the room, leaving you there all alone, and you wondered if maybe you made her angry more than she already was. You just wanted to help as well as have her let you go as soon as possible. If she hadn’t left the room, you were getting ready to promise that you wouldn’t tell anyone, and the two of you could forget about everything.

After an hour, Sofia returned to the room you were in. You looked at her, biting back a whine at the dress she had changed into. You couldn’t help but think of how good she looked, but when she got in front of you and lowered herself onto your thigh, you were confused.

“What—What are you doing?” You asked.

Sofia ignored your question, grinding down on your thigh hard. She grabbed you by your neck, squeezing hard as she fucked herself on your thigh. You squeezed your eyes shut, but Sofia slapped you across the face, causing your eyes to flutter open.

“You keep your eyes on me while I’m using you; do I make myself clear?” Sofia asked.

She put more pressure on your neck, closing her own eyes as she brought herself to the edge. You sat as still as you could, unsure of what Sofia would do if you tried to move but gasping when she let go of your neck. She continued to grind, pulling your shirt to the side and leaning in to bite your shoulder hard.

“M’gonna put you to such good use until that father of yours pays me my money back.” Sofia informed you, finally moving her mouth off you, “Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me; I already know you will be.”

Sofia was talking to herself as she came, stilling herself as she caught her breath. She smiled at you, still sitting on your lap as if she were studying you—running her tongue against her bottom lip before she finally spoke up.

“I’m going to untie you so you can settle in better, but if you try anything, I’ll just kill ya. That cousin you’re close with will do if you can’t behave. Got it?”

Your eyes widened, nodding. “I got it.”

Sofia got off your lap and tapped your cheek twice before walking away to grab something to cut the rope. You just really hoped that your father would pay her back so you could go home, but knowing him it would be a surprise if he did.

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

Do you have any examples for what kind of air filtration places should be using? And how do I go about asking what they’re using? I’ve been wanting to contact my library to ask, but I don’t know what word to use.

(DISCLAIMER: this answer is for the USA. air filter regulations and certification vary country-to-country, and i live in the USA. please do not assume any of this--beyond the basic scientific information--is true if you are not in the USA.)

so the short answer is that in order to be effective against COVID (and most other viruses), your filter must capture particles in the size range of 0.1-1 microns. if the minimum capture size is larger than that range, it will not trap viral particles. just as importantly, it needs an appropriate Clean Air Delivery Rate (CADR) for the size of the room it's filtering; you can learn about how to calculate CADR and other details in the linked documents here, but the short version is your purifier's CADR should be equal to at least 2/3rds of the room's total area (for example, a room of 120 square feet requires a minimum CADR of 80), and rooms with ceilings higher than 8 feet require a higher CADR-to-area ratio than that. most wisdom recommends aiming for 5 complete air changes per hour, however, i've been told that this can be overkill.

the most commonly-used air filters in the USA which filter particles in the correct micron size range are HEPA filters. HEPA stands for High-Efficiency Particulate Air [filter]. you can learn a little about HEPA filters on the EPA website here. because of how air purifier testing and distribution work, the easiest question to ask to determine if something filters the correct micron size range is "is this a certified HEPA filter?" there are many filters being marketed as "HEPA-type" filters which do not filter microns in the correct size range. make sure you ask if something is specifically a HEPA filter and not a "HEPA-type" filter.

other than asking if it's a HEPA filter, i would suggest asking the following questions:

is the CADR of your purifiers rated for your room size[s]?

if they don't know: who can i talk to in order to get that information?

if they don't know that: what is the CADR of your air purifier[s] and what is the square footage of the room[s] they are in? (you can calculate whether or not it's rated appropriately to size yourself.)

the CADR should be on the packaging and info booklets that come with the air purifier, but if whoever you're talking to can't access any of that information, try asking for the specific brand and model of the purifier. if you look it up, you should be able to easily find its CADR on the manufacturer's online listing.

hope this helps! let me know if i can expand on anything or explain anything more clearly.

[selfshipyellowpages]

Yellow Pages (Batch One) Is Up!

Check out the first 20 blogs on The Selfship Yellow Pages, and thank you to everyone who has reblogged! I'm going to be working on the next set of twenty and I'll post again when it's updated. Interact with this post or this one to be included in a future update!

Please let me know if there's any typos, missing links, or if you'd prefer certain F/Os to be listed or unlisted! I'm cutting off individual fandoms at 10 F/Os just for readability, and I've decided to list all F/Os (romantic, familial, platonic, etc) because different selfshippers might focus on different types of relationship, and they all deserve representation and community!

Reminders:

-I am only listing fandoms that have 2+ people who selfship in them, to keep the project from getting absolutely unmanageable in links. -the yellow pages are designed to be accessible on mobile but tumblr can be wonky about links on mobile, so I do suggest desktop if possible! -please make sure you are reading and respecting other people's DNIs when browsing the yellow pages! -be aware that I am listing blogs and their F/Os, so if you don't want to see doubles for a particular character/fandom, don't click on that fandom! -please do not be rude to people about their F/Os, whether that's because of doubles, fandom source, or anything else. If you'd like to block someone for these reasons, that is a-ok, but do not send any rude messages, or I will find you and block you from this community project. -if you would like anything changed or removed, just let me know via asks or DMs!

The Yellow Pages currently features: 20 blogs, 33 fandoms, and I have 163 additional fandoms on stand-by waiting for a second person to share them. Current most popular selfship fandoms: Marvel, DC, and Pokemon (4 blogs in each).

This batch includes: @fruitypie-daydreams @satellite-of-self-love @sixsixships @cafecouple @multiversal-selfshipper @cruising-thru-the-starz @mephy-doodle-dandy @self-shippy @astral-express-family @silver-heller @moonlitforestt @allpointyears @karume-selfshipper @mimy2004 @fatiguedshipper @starry-ships @dolliepiilled @thepenguinandthefiend @woofs-silly-ships