#sometimes these things just blow my mind that is SO MUCH MONEY!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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I saw your requests were closed But I really couldn't help sharing one. I hope you do like the idea :)

So what about a Charles × Wolff/Hamilton reader where she is working in Health care but has a new boss recently and he passes inappropriate comments/threats etc about her and acts out of line, which keeps on escalating (As dramatic and much as you want it to) and she doesn't tell him or anyone and starts behaving irratically and is scared, but one day it was too much or he finds out about it on accident and is angry at first at her for not sharing and then is all protective and possessive and does something about it.

One shot/ Series. Honey anything to read any version of this would be just 🤌🏻

Thank you ❤️🥹

Your Safe Place || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!Wolff!reader Warnings: 18+ only, injuries, bullying, panic attack WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist

Translations: ma (petite) louve - my (little) wolf || chérie - sweetheart || putain - fuck || je t’aime (aussi) - I love you (too) || Quel salopard - what an asshole

The second you closed the front door you could finally breathe again. Taking a moment to just settle after the day you had endured, you pressed your back to the door and closed your eyes. It was like you told your younger patients when they were feeling stressed: smell the flower, blow out the candle. Inhale through your nose, exhale out your mouth.

Peace calmed your mind as you smelt the dinner Charles had made, your plate kept warm in the oven like he did whenever your shift ran overtime. That was an almost daily occurrence, especially with the new boss. You took another breath to clear your mind before it could return to the man who was single handedly making you regret your entire career choice.

"Hey-oh," Charles caught himself before he could hug you, spotting the blood on your scrubs. "You, uh, have a little something-" You looked down where he gestured, his nose wrinkling at the sight.

"It's fine," you said as you dropped your bag to the floor and pulled the shirt off. "It's mine, not a patient."

He nodded with relief as he took it from you to put in the washing machine but then it dropped as he realised what you had said and took a closer look at you. "Ma louve, what happened?" his fingers were gentle as they guided your face up to the light and he saw the bruising around your nose. "Putain, you're hurt."

"It was an accident," you said softly as you took his hands from your face and stepped into his embrace. "Cassia just had an episode, you know how it is, she didn't know what she was doing."

He wasn't appeased by the answer as he led you to the kitchen where he sat you down before checking your dinner was still warm enough to eat. "Where was security?"

You were grateful his back was to you as he reheated the pasta, something he hated having to do since it was never as good as when it was fresh. You had grimaced, wondering the very same thing at the time. They should have been close in the ward but with the new boss, expenditure was more important than safety and the budget had been cut in half the moment he started.

"They got there as fast as they could." It wasn't a lie. They had run all the way from the maternity ward on the floor above but you had already reset your broken nose by the time they arrived. She had quickly calmed after a dose of haloperidol and been apologetic when she realised her actions while delirious. “I’m fine, Char.”

Diana sighed as she bandaged your wrist, a look of pity in her eyes as she shook her head. “Why do you stay? It’s not like you need the money, hun.”

You tested the range of movement and winced at the sharp pain, just another incident to add to the growing list. “What good does quitting do? You guys would just be another nurse down and it would put more pressure on an already crumbling system.”

The older nurse patted your hand before standing up and putting the left over roll of gauze away. “You’re too kind, but sometimes you have to put yourself first.”

You should have taken the rest of the day off but there were rounds to finish and call bells ringing left, right and centre. It was only when you couldn’t ignore your rumbling stomach any longer that you really took a proper look at your watch and saw your shift had finished over an hour ago.

“Katrina called in sick, I need you to stay on,” Tommy said without a simple hello when he caught you alone in the staff room.

“I can’t,” you replied as you grabbed your bag with your good hand, “it’s my dad’s birthday - we’re going out to dinner.”

“I don’t give a shit if you’re having dinner with the Crown Prince himself, we need you here.”

“Albert may actually be there,” you mused as you started to leave, but an arm blocked the doorway.

“Your yearly review is due next week, and I would hate to have to make a note of insolence, poor attitude and lack of empathy for others. We are short on staff and it’s not like you have children at home.”

That had been the only reason you took some extra shifts when you could manage it, because there were nurses like Katrina who had two young ones and they often fell ill with colds and flus from their daycare. It meant you had to become the automatic fall guy when any other member of staff couldn’t make it - but that was what the on-call nurses were for, except…

“Maybe we wouldn’t be short staffed if you didn’t get rid of the on-call contractors, or if you hired more nurses like we were promised two years ago,” you snapped without thinking, your hunger and exhaustion removing the filter that stopped you from having the temper your father did. Or, passion, as he liked to call it - a Wolff trait.

“So this is my fault?” he scoffed. “Nurses cost money. You might not know this, but money doesn’t grow on trees.”

You rolled your eyes at the reminder that you grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth, but that didn’t mean you were the spoiled daughter everyone who didn’t know you thought you were. You had studied hard and put in the effort to become a nurse because you wanted to help people. Tommy only cared about the profit.

“Healthcare shouldn’t be about money,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “It should be about helping the people who need it.”

“Then ask daddy dearest to make a donation, sweetcheeks,” he mocked as he pinched your cheek like a child. “That’s the only way you’ll get your precious nurses.”

You slapped his hand away from your face and ducked out the door before he could stop you but his voice echoed along the cold sterile corridor, “I hope you like night shifts, you’re going to be on them for a very long time.”

“You wouldn't,” you turned with a gasp. Charles' timetable was erratic but unless he was out of the country for a race he would always make the effort to be home by the time your shift ended.

“I would.” He chuckled and left in the opposite direction, pointing back to the staff room as he went. “You can leave at the midnight swap.”

Sighing with defeat and tears stinging your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the bag and sent an apologetic text to your father for missing his dinner party.

By the time midnight arrived your feet were aching and you had nearly emptied the vending machine of snacks to stave off your hunger. It wasn’t far from the hospital to the apartment you shared with Charles but it felt like a million miles when you stepped out into the cold night.

You pulled your jacket tighter around your body and shivered as you started off, your head down and hood up. You were so focused on just putting one foot in front of the other you didn’t see the shadow join you until a hand grabbed you and you screamed with terror as you were pulled into their chest.

“Ma louve, it’s me,” Charles soothed as he pulled your hoodie back and saw the tears in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I, I,” you stammered as you tried to unscramble the thoughts in your head.

“Shh, I’m sorry, I called out to you like three times. I shouldn’t have grabbed you, that was stupid,” he chided himself.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I was in a world of my own.” You finally took notice of your surroundings and saw the car park was almost empty and none of the cars were his Pista. “What are you doing here? Did you walk?”

“I didn’t want you walking alone at this hour,” he said with a kiss on your forehead. “You’re shaking, ma chérie.”

“It was a long day,” you murmured as you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder as he gently rocked you. “I think I have more coffee in my system than blood right now.”

“You can’t keep this up, my love, you are going to burn out.”

You pulled out of his embrace and started down the footpath so he didn’t see the tears begin to escape. “I’m fine, Char. I can handle it.”

It was Charles' home race and you had promised him you would join him in Ferrari this year. It was one of the few races you could always attend, managing your shifts around it so you never missed it, and all week you had seen the city setting up for the pride and joy of Monaco.

Dawn was breaking on the big day and it looked like it was going to be a stunner as the sky turned blue and you left the hospital after yet another night shift. Tommy had found a way to make your life miserable and your shifts were constantly changing just to upset your mentality and circadian rhythm. You could barely tell morning from night when it always looked the same blue hues, same cool temperatures, the only indication was which side of the city was glowing, east or west.

“Good morning, baby,” you greeted as you wrapped your arms around Charles and kissed his shoulder as you found him at the bench making breakfast, already wearing his bright red Ferrari uniform. “How did you sleep?”

“Not bad. Would have been better with you,” he said as he turned to face you, his head dipping down to indulge in a kiss. You giggled as you saw a few crumbs of toast caught in the short hairs of his beard and brushed them away. “Thank you.”

“Now you can kiss me.”

The doorbell rang and he reluctantly released you from his arms to go answer it, his finger pointing to the second plate you hadn’t noticed. “Eat, amour.”

You hummed happily as you grabbed the toast and took a bite, casting a wave to Andrea as he walked in with Charles.

“You look half dead, Wolff,” his trainer said with a worried look.

“She just got in from a shift, and will be going to bed as soon as she has eaten, right?” Charles said pointedly while you rolled your eyes.

“Does he boss you around this much?” you asked Andrea, making him chuckle as he shook his head.

“No, but he doesn’t love me the same way.”

“Who said I love you at all?”

“You do, every time you get a podium,” Andrea pointed out seriously.

You nearly choked on the mouthful as you tried not to laugh at the truth. Charles was very affectionate when he was celebrating, and you hoped he would have an entire night of it after today's race. Unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to share it with him since you were due back at the hospital at 7pm for another 12 hour night shift. You had tried to find someone to swap with but Tommy had made it clear there would be consequences - all because you questioned his qualifications.

You hadn’t been able to quiet any more, not when you had the imprint of a patient's dental records on your forearm from when they bit you. You started dreading going to work, somewhere that should have been a safe place, a refuge for those needing help had become the opposite for you. It was bordering on dangerous and you had to say something.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have said it in the morning meeting in front of dozens of staff, but you had serious doubts about his ‘people skills’ and wanted to know where he got his management degree from. Suggesting it was from Hogwarts, because it must be a thing of fantasy, may have been a step too far.

You were now paying for those words.

You still stood by them.

You still hadn’t told Charles.

He would only worry, or suggest taking a sabbatical. Yes, you longed to travel with him to his races and show your support, but you didn’t feel there was any way to contribute to society with that life. Nursing gave you a sense of purpose and fulfilment that you were certain you couldn’t feel just being the driver’s girlfriend, or the principal’s daughter.

“Hey,” Charles roused you softly and you realised you were starting to fall asleep while eating. “Let’s get you to bed, ma petite louve.”

You were already closing your eyes before your head hit the pillow but you felt his lips warm your forehead. “I love you. I’ll see you in the garage,” you mumbled as sleep took over.

“Je t’aime aussi.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you swore as you scrambled out of the bed and pulled on the first outfit you could find, a pair of comfortable jeans and a Ferrari shirt with Leclerc across the back with the number 16. There were dozens of missed calls and even more text messages but do not disturb had automatically turned on and you had forgotten to stop the setting. Today of all days you wanted to be disturbed.

Out on the street you could already hear the high keening of the cars racing around the city and you dashed through the thick crowds to get to the paddock. You hadn’t even remembered to grab your pass as you left in a rush but for once you were thankful someone recognised you and let you through.

“Arthur, how is he doing?” you panted as you reached the Ferrari garage and grabbed the headset he held out.

“Not the best start, he was a little distracted I think. You should probably let him know you are here.”

You agreed and went to the desk at the back rather than the main set up on the pit wall, quietly asking them to connect your headset to Charles. They were hesitant but there was no need for a pit stop any time soon since he had fresh tires so they made the adjustments to the channels.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late.”

“You had me worried, little wolf.”

“That sounds so strange to hear in English,” you giggled, knowing the rules of the comms meant he couldn’t speak French on them. “I just wanted to let you know I made it so you can stop worrying.”

“I’ll always worry about you,” he said and you didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling. “I’ll see you soon.”

The final 12 laps went almost as quickly as your nails, the nervous habit ruining them under the stress of the tight street circuit and close calls. Every time his car went flying through the sharp corners around the pool you were sure you were going to see him crash and your heart could barely take it. You ripped the headset off and rushed out of the garage as a wave of nausea crashed over you.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked when he caught up to you in Charles’ driver room, a bottle from his fridge pressed to your clammy forehead. Your hands could barely keep it steady as the shook uncontrollably and you ended up letting it fall to the floor with a thud as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t answer him as you struggled to pull air into your lungs, the screams of the crowd outside doing little to calm the panic gripping you. Dropping your head between your knees, you tried to keep from fainting but you could feel your heartbeat in your head, the throb sounding in time to the darkening pulse invading your vision until it all faded to black.

“You’re not listening, mate, she cannot come to work. She fucking passed out from exhaustion.”

“Then she should have been sleeping and not wasting her time watching some cars go around in circles. If she doesn't show up tonight, tell her not to bother showing up ever again.”

“She won’t,” Charles ended the call and slammed your phone down. “Quel salopard!”

The anger on Charles' face softened when he saw your eyes opening and he rushed across the room, his race suit still tied around his waist. “Don’t move, just lay down, ma louve. You need to rest,” he whispered as he knelt on the floor beside the couch you were lying on, his fingers brushing your cheek bone. “Arthur’s gone to get Toto.”

You couldn’t tell if minutes or days had passed and trying to think felt like trekking through a swamp of sludge in your mind. “The race?”

“4th.” He pressed his palm to your head and ran it over your hair feeling the damp heat on his skin. “You’ve sweat almost as much as me, mamour. You should have stayed home if you weren’t feeling well.”

You shook your head and it cleared some of the haze that hindered your cognitive ability. “I’m not sick, I just had…a moment. But I’m fine now.”

“A moment?” he asked with a frown. “What type of moment? And don’t tell me you are fine, you are clearly not and you haven’t been fine for months. Talk to me, please.”

The pleading, the puppy eyes, the way he dropped his head to your shoulder like he was defeated, it crested into a tsunami of emotion that broke the wall you had built between your personal life and your work life. The two worlds crashed together and the sob broke his heart as you crumbled apart in front of him.

The wave of truth crashed upon him and everything you had tried to keep from him for the past six months was lifted from your conscience as you confessed it all. You told him about the stress you were under, the bullying you had faced and the danger you were in each night with nearly no support or security.

You had been in a long sleeve when you went to bed but now you were in his shirt and he could see the latest wound marring your flesh, the impression of teeth setting to bruises.

Horror painted his features as he absorbed it all, then it turned to anger, hot rage as his clenched fists turned his knuckles white. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked with quiet restraint. “Pourquoi?”

You swallowed and shrank back into the couch as you felt that anger aimed at you. The shaking started again, a fine tremor coursing through your body until it reached your teeth and they chattered as a cold sweat broke out.

“Fuck, no, bébé, please,” Charles cursed as he unclenched his fists and reached for you only to freeze as you flinched. “Please, I would never hurt you. I’m not angry at you.”

“Yes, you are,” you whispered.

“Okay, I’m a little bit angry you didn’t tell me sooner. We are meant to share everything, no?” You nodded meekly. “But I would never hurt you, ma louve. I’m angry at myself, I should have noticed, I should have, I don’t know…I failed you.”

“I was scared. You would make me quit if you knew.”

His head lifted and confusion swum in those green eyes of his. “Why would you want to work for that asshole?”

“I like my job, I like what I do, Charles.” You looked away from the intensity of his stare. “I don’t know who I am without it.”

“Oh, chérie, you would still be the same selfless, kind, beautiful woman you are right now. That is who you are, and that will never change.” When he reached for you this time you let him take your hands and he kissed your knuckles before holding them to his chest. “I think it’s time to prove it to you.”

You sighed and gave him a small nod. “I think you might be right.”

The sound of relief he made brought a smile to your face and he returned it with a guilty one. “That’s a relief,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, “because I think I got you fired.”

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #wolff!reader

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trippinsorrows · 28 days ago

Text

looking through your eyes + twenty four

authors note: this one gets pretty heavy. the next two chapters will also be heavy at points. please heed to cw/tw's.

cw/tw: fluff, angst, brief discussion of childhood sexual assault and child abuse, scene of violence against women

*this author does not condone nor support intimate partner/domestic violence.*

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“Roman…” His name leaving her mouth is the perfect combination of breathy and whiny. “We–re gonna be late.”

For the first time in what feels like an hour, Roman lifts his head from her neck. She hates how noticeable the absence of his mouth is. “You really think I care about that?”

No. She knows he doesn’t care. But, she also dislikes being the reason for them being late. Because she's certain he has plans afterwards, and it doesn’t sit well with her knowing that she could play any type of role in any inconvenience he may encounter.

Her eyes shut as he brings his mouth back to her neck, sucking the spot that he’s clearly realized she has the most visceral response to. Toes curling, clawing at his shoulders and arms, it’s hard to tell who’s enjoying this more. Him or her.

Still, she manages to protest. “But, I—I care.”

Big hands traveling her body, she sighs quietly when he cups the swell of her breast giving her a gentle squeeze that has her thighs unintentionally gripping his waist. “You should have thought about that before you put this damn outfit on….”

Said outfit isn’t anything crazy, nothing fancy, just a cropped, sleeveless hoodie and dark yoga pants. However, it's the stretchy material that clings to clearly every part of her that he seemingly finds irresistible. Namely her ass and chest. Still, it's the typical type of outfit she would wear to train, which is exactly where they should be headed to right now. Though it seems her husband has another much more carnal destination in mind.

Blush growing, she tries again. “Roman, I—I’m serious.” His tongue circling across her inflamed skin as she groans against him. “You’re gonna l–leave another mark.”

“Good.” His response doesn’t entirely surprise her. Neither does the explanation. “You’re mine, and everyone needs to fucking know that shit.”

Mine

There’s something about that, something about his delivery, so strong and borderline aggressive that makes her insides melt a tad. Makes her smile grow. A good bit, she’s certain, stemming from the fact that it still blows her mind sometimes that a man like Roman Reigns could want her. Does want her. Even with all her….baggage.

He wants her.

Loves her.

For some reason, this makes it a bit easier to slide into that space of comfort and indifference he has regarding time and obligation. Makes her arch her chest into him as he stays true and firm to his determination in leaving her with his mark.

Though she’s not sure just what about this current situation makes her decide to bring this up now, it’s something she knows she really shouldn't push off anymore.

“R–Ro?”

He makes a sound against her. “Yes?”

“I—I need a favor.”

He sighs against her, lifting his head from her neck to match her nervous gaze. “Solana, doing things for you is never a favor.” He brings his hand to her chin, thumb caressing her skin. “It’s my job as your husband.”

His response, thus far, chips away some of the anxiety. Some. “But, this—this is kinda big.”

Eyes narrowing slightly, he asks, “how big?”

It feels kind of silly, Solana briefly dropping her gaze to his black shirt that’s stretched against his broad chest. “I—I need money.”

Roman just looks at her for a second, a huge smile breaking out on his face. “You need money?”

She nods. Slowly. “It’s—it’s a lot of money though.”

“I think we have different definitions of what a lot is, but go on.”

He’s probably not wrong, but that doesn’t negate the fact that the proposed amount of money probably needed is substantial compared to the average loan. Solana sits up fully, forcing Roman to also stand upright. He tugs her to the edge, her hands on his chest. “It’s…..it’s for Dr. Stratus.”

At that, she’s clearly lost him. “You need money for your psychiatrist?”

“Not—not like that.” Solana closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tries to gather her thoughts. “The girls were telling me they overheard that Dr. Stratus couldn’t secure an investor to keep the facility going and may have to shut down.”

He remains confused. “Okay…..”

“Roman, I don’t want that to happen.” She closes her eyes, thinking back to some of the information Gail has provided her as well as readings from her book. “Did you—did you know that 1 out of every 6 American women has either been raped or survived of an attempted rape?” Closing her eyes, she murmurs, “I was one of the ones.” Taking another breath, she notices his expression is darker. “But there are a lot more ones out there, Roman, and they need help just like I did. Dr. Stratus has a really great thing going, and I don’t—I don’t want to see it go away. I want—”

“Okay.”

She frowns. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it.”

Her stomach flutters. “Really?” She’s not sure what she was expecting, but for some reason, him so easily agreeing seems almost too good to be true.

Roman shrugs, pushing back some of her hair. “It’s important to you, and it clearly is, so I’ll do it.” That’s it. Nothing else. Just acquiescence.

“But, you don’t even know how much—”

“Doesn’t matter. You want it. I’ll make it happen.”

It’s overwhelming, really. Solana didn’t really think he would be upset with her request. She figured he’d want or need to think about it, which makes sense given it’s probably going to be in the six, maybe even seven figure range. But, that’s not the case. Instead, he’s just agreed without a second thought simply because she wants it.

Because it’s important to her.

Eyes watering, she throws her arms around him, hugging him. “Thank you.” It’s such a simple thing to say for such a big task. But, she also means it from the deepest part of her. For a man who doesn’t seem to think he’s a good person, she thinks the world of him.

The same way she’s certain their child will.

“While we’re on it, there’s something I need to talk to you about, too.”

And just like that, her smile is wiped, Solana pulling back and looking up. "Oh—okay.”

Something tells her she’s not going to like what she’s about to hear.

Roman’s intense eyes are focused on her, his index finger tracing along her jaw. “I have to go out of town next week.”

Yeah……definitely not something she wanted or expected to hear.

“Oh.” It’s all she knows how to say initially. Finally, more words arrive. A necessary question asked. “Where are you going?”

He hesitates. “Italy.”

Her eyes widen. That definitely isn’t what she expected him to say. Domestic travel was the guess, international never even being something that crossed her mind. “Italy?”

He nods, explaining on the edge of a heavy sigh. “I have some…..business to take care of with the Cosa Nostra.”

Solana is quiet, sitting on his words, partially hoping he’ll say more. Granted, it’s not a necessity as she’s able to piece the puzzle together herself. “That’s why your cousins were here that night…..isn’t it?” His silence is all the answer she needs. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No.” Though his answer is immediate, there’s something about it that was too instantaneous. Like he blurted it out without even thinking about it. “Just…..something I need to handle.”

It’s a bit manipulative. She knows this, but it’s hard for her to have something like this sprung on her and not ask any follow up questions. “Can….can I come with you?”

Again, his response is something she already guessed before even fixing her mouth to ask. Another heavy sigh as he gently cups her cheek. “Not this time.”

“Because it’s dangerous.” And there’s the manipulation component. Solana has realized that will always be the dealbreaker for Roman when it comes to her. Safety. So, him saying no makes her concerned not for her wellbeing.

But for his.

Anxiety growing, she asks, “are the twins going with you? You can’t go alone.”

“I won’t be alone.” That helps her feel a little better. Just a little. “But, they’re not coming. I need them here. Handling shit.” It’s hard for Solana to wonder if any part of what went down between Roman and Jey has impacted this decision for them to remain here while he travels abroad.

Still, that’s another thought for another day. She has a much bigger issue at hand.

“So who—”

“Solana.” Roman’s voice silences the next set of anxiety riddled questions scheduled to leave her mouth. He lowers his volume, his tone softer than anything anyone outside of her would ever hear. “I’ll be fine.”

For some reason, that only cranks her anxiety up from a 6 to a solid 8. And it’s without much thought, she finds herself asking, “do you have to go?”

He truly looks apologetic. A visible thing that also matches the verbal. “I’ve been pushing it off. I can’t push it off anymore.”

She swallows, emotion thick and bubbling. “Because of me?”

“Because of a lot of things, Sol.” And to her surprise, there’s some semblance of emotion present in his voice as well. “The—the story with that side of my family is…..complicated.” As it seems are most things when it comes to his family. Either side, apparently. “Trust me, going there is the last thing I want, but it needs to be done.”

Solana hates this. For a lot of reasons. The biggest one, however, is because she just knows there’s something he’s not telling her. A key part he’s omitting, probably for fear of worrying her. Never mind the fact that she’s already an anxious mess thinking about him being so far away without at least the twins there to have his back. She’d bet this Dwayne and Matteo person will be present, but she doesn’t know them. Doesn’t trust them. Doesn’t trust them to have her husband’s back.

Not like Jimmy and Jey.

Even with the altercation between Roman and the latter, she still believes in her heart of hearts they’d look out for each other.

Like brothers.

“How long will you be gone?” Because trying to convince him to stay or even allow her to accompany him is the equivalent of beating a dead horse.

More hesitation. “A week. Maybe two.”

The duration truly could be worse, and it makes sense such a long trip wouldn’t warrant a short turnover, but that doesn’t make the idea of him being gone for that period of time any easier to stomach.

When she says nothing, he brings his other hand to her hair, pushing a section behind her ear. “Nia will stay with you until I return.”

And the surprises just keep coming. “Nia?” She knows the list of people Roman would ask to do such a thing is pretty limited, nonexistent maybe, but Nia is the last of the last she’d have considered. “She—why would she agree to that?”

Nia’s behavior around and toward Solana has shifted moderately since their first meeting so many months ago. She’s still not the nicest, per se, but Solana has learned a large part of that is nothing personal. It’s just Nia. So, while she’s not against it, she does, however, not understand it.

“I told you before, people do what I want them to do because no one wants to deal with the alternative. Nia is no different.” Forced. He’s forced her to do this. That’s all Solana took from that, the frown on her face deepening it. “She’ll really just be here to administer your meds and make sure you get to therapy.”

And she figured as such, figured that would be the basis as to why he would ensure another person is present in his absence. Still, Solana can’t stop herself from trying to broach an option she’s almost certain he won’t want to hear.

“Ro, I don’t—I can take care of that mys—”

“No.” It’s so firm and final. Even his gaze has shifted into something almost hardened. “That’s not an option.”

She figured it wasn’t. She also wonders, however, if it ever will. It has to, at some point. Solana wants to also ask why it can’t be Bayley again, or even Naomi, but it’s most likely to earn her the same type of shutdown.

If not worse.

Roman steps back, guiding her off the bathroom counter. Standing back on her own two feet, Solana is taken back for a second by the almost instant lightheaded feeling that comes over her. Or less lightheaded and more…..exhaustion.

“You alright?”

She looks up, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m—I’m good.” That’s debatable, because Solana is all of a sudden feeling exhausted from literally doing nothing but making out with her husband.

Roman, as expected, looks unconvinced. “You sure?” He goes into his spiel that she’s heard at least three times now. “You know you don’t have to jump right back into things. I still think you should take more time off—”

“No.” Her hand shifts to her stomach, Solana grateful this doesn’t seem to trigger something for him. “I—I want to fall back into my routines.” Even more, and most important, if she truly is pregnant, Solana doesn’t want to waste any time left she has to do so before being too far along to train.

But, he can’t have that explanation. Not yet.

And now she has to figure out just when said explanation can occur, because how does she tell her husband they’re expecting days before he’s set to go out of town for possibly two weeks?

Damn.

————

“You’re late.” It’s the first thing to come out of a smirking Bayley’s mouth as Solana walks in with Roman into the training area. ‘But, the outfit is cute.”

Solana smiles at that, a bit of a laugh leaving her considering Roman nearly had a heart attack at her outfit when she stepped out the bathroom. Hence why they’re late. Among…..other reasons.

“I’m sorry. We got caught up with something.”

“Mmmhmm,” Naomi sounds with that knowing look. “I’m sure you did.”

Solana looks away, wanting and needing to hide her blush as Roman asks in an annoyed voice, “where is he?”

“Here.” The four of them redirect their attention to the sound of Jimmy and the other two men he’s with: Jey and Carmelo.

Naturally, Solana goes to observe the indirect interaction between Jey and Roman, searching for any sigh of contempt. It’s definitely there. She can see it in the way Roman’s shoulders tense and how Jey looks away, Solana noticing the faded bruises on his face as well as the bandage over a still healing cut.

Swallowing, Solana moves over to them. “Hey.”

Jimmy pulls her into a side hug without needing initiation, but it’s not missed upon her how Jey seems to hesitate to hug her, the tension in his body as well as the way he almost awkward way he clears his throat and looks away.

She tries not to make too much of it, but it’s hard not to.

Carmelo steps forward, giving a nod. “Ma’am.”

That makes her smile return. “I told you before, you can just call me Solana.”

“Ma’am is fine,” Roman’s deep voice cuts through, Solana not needing to turn around, hearing his heavy footsteps behind her. “You’re late.”

Carmelo swallows. “I’m sorry—”

“I don’t care,” Roman is instantly dismissive, focusing his attention on his wife as he goes into an unnecessary introduction. “Solana, this is—”

“I know,” she cuts him off with a gentle smile, explaining, “I met him at the party.”

At that, Romans’ thick eyebrows cave inward. “What?”

“He was there, Big Dog.”

‘“I–I was there, sir.”

Roman scowls, completely ignoring his cousin and the other irrelevant man. “He was?” He looks over at his wife, asking, “you invited him too?”

Solana nods. “I asked the twins to invite whoever it was you found to help me train, because I wanted to meet him beforehand,” she explains, turning to Carmelo again, “thank you again for—agreeing to help me.”

Carmelo opens his mouth, unsure just how to express that he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Or one at all.

“He was there the whole time,” Naomi shares from where she stretches on one of the mats, Jimmy focused on her ass as she bends over.

“You were too busy trying not to kill and cuss everybody out,” Bayley walks over, earning a hardened look from Roman that she pays no mind to. “Alright, so Solana is obviously a small human being, but she’s fast and hell and can maneuver quickly. That makes her hard to catch. Those are her strengths. She’s also pretty damn good with a knife.” Solana is a bit unsure how to feel about that part. “But, she’s only ever trained with women, hence why you’re here, Melo.”

“She also wants to learn how to do the spear.”

Roman’s statement earns a round of surprised expressions from everyone except Carmelo.

He looks terrified. “The—the spear?” He gestures with a crooked, slightly trembling index finger. “From—from you?”

“Who the fuck else?” Is Roman’s objectively rude reply, Solana having to stop herself from placing her hand on his forearm. He could try to be a little nicer.

“You supposed to get a spear from him?” A new voice sounds, Solana not recognizing the man with a deep complexion, multiple piercings and an….interesting hairstyle. He shakes his head. “You gon die!”

Solana’s mouth drops as Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud. Jimmy is the one to ask, “R Truth, where did you even come from?”

He scowls, pointing downward. “Boss man said meet him here.”

“I said at the office, Truth. Not the Warehouse.” Jey finally speaks, Solana realizing it’s the first time he’s done so. He sounds annoyed, and she’s not sure if it’s just because of the scene unfolding before them. Or something that he’s clearly still not over.

“Yo? Forreal?” Jey runs his hand over his face. “That’s—that’s my bad.” He looks to Roman, nodding. “Tribal Chief.” He looks at Solana, again nodding, “Mrs. Tribal Chief.” He then gestures to the rest of the group. “Ya’ll be safe now.” Pointing to Carmelo, he adds, “‘cept’ for you, you already dead.”

Solana has so many questions, even as this strange man walks away, Jey muttering something incoherent before he seems to follow after this R-Truth person.

Once those two men are gone, Carmelo nervously clears his throat. “Tribal Chief, if I can, who better to train her than y—”

“Shut up,” Roman says it so lazily. It’s as he crosses his massive arms over each other that Solana has to briefly look away, finding herself growing….distracted. He’s so damn muscular. “She’s comfortable with me. That won’t help her learn.”

Roman easily transitions into providing basic information about the spear, best ways to time it, stances, ways to land it and whatnot. She’s following, as best she can, at least. Because this exhaustion she’s experiencing is making it ten times harder to be present in the moment, and that’s made evident by the gap in her focus when one moment Roman is explaining, and the next he’s rushing towards Carmelo.

Solana gasps as Roman spears the other man with a ferocity and intensity that seems almost animal-like.

Eyes wide, hands over her mouth, Solana has to wince at a pain she didn’t even experience. But, one didn’t have to be on the receiving end of that to know it had to hurt like hell.

Roman stands up so unbothered and nonchalant, readjusting his almost always perfect bun.

“Gotta give him his props. No one does a spear quite like Roman,” Bayley chuckles, arms crossed as Solana continues to stare in shock.

Jimmy casually walks by and peers over an unmoved Carmelo. “Ayo, Uce, I think he dead.” The faintest sound of pained whining fills the air, prompting Jimmy to correct himself. “Never mind. He alive.”

“Barely,” Naomi mumbles.

“He shouldn’t be so weak,” is Roman’s pompous defense as he redirects his attention to a still startled Solana. “Make sense?”

There’s a brief delay in between the time she nods slowly and speaks. “But, I—I don’t think I can do that.”

A small smile falls on Roman’s face as he explains, “it’s not going to be the exact same, Solana. I’m significantly bigger than you. Plus, spearing a man is different than spearing a woman.”

“What if I need to spear a man?”

His expression hardens as he affirms, “he’d have to get through me first to fucking touch you.”

Solana doesn’t say anything after that. Just waits for Carmelo to recover as they transition to the one-on-one portion. Solana is rolling her shoulders, trying to get in as much stretching as she can to hopefully loosen up her body more and shed away the almost fatigue she’s feeling.

It’s unfamiliar and inconvenient as hell considering what she’s about to do.

She’s in earshot range too when Roman grabs Melo’s arm and warns in the chilliest tone, “leave one fucking mark on her, and I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body.”

A heavy sigh leaves her body. She understands Roman’s protectiveness, but truthfully, Carmelo is doing them a favor. He doesn’t have to be here.

Then again….maybe he does.

She doesn’t put it beyond her husband to threaten people on her behalf.

Not in the slightest.

And on one hand, she’s partially grateful for the obvious care and mindfulness Carmelo is utilizing as he trains with her, it’s definitely helpful from her trauma standpoint. Helps for them to not be as physical as she typically is with Bayley and Naomi.

However, it's painfully obvious that Carmelo is doing his damn hardest to minimize any and all physical contact between the two of them. A part of her appreciates it, but a larger part of her finds it a bit annoying. It’s sparring. Not interpretive dancing.

Solana manages to swipe Carmelo off his feet, growing a bit frustrated when he intentionally takes longer to get up. “This doesn't help me,” she sighs, hands on her hips as she takes a second to steal a much needed breath. “Roman, can you please tell him—”

She’s cut off by being swiped by her ankles, tumbling forward to the floor. Carmelo is suddenly over her, flipping her onto her back, Solana not hesitating to move her knee between his stupidly open legs. He groans from the impact, and she takes that opportunity to bar her forearm across his neck, switching them so that he’s on his back with her hovering over him.

However, anything more is cut short by that small interaction alone knocking the wind out of her.

Climbing off him, she moves onto her hands and knees, eyes shut and head dropped. Neither from feeling triggered or even being in pain, just exhaustion.

She’s so damn drained.

In what feels like seconds, Roman is at her side, hand on her back. “Solana, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, answering quickly, “I’m just—tired.” More than what’s normal for her. Training is usually draining, but considering they haven’t even been at it that long, she’s confused as to why she’s getting so winded. Lifting her head, she offers a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“No.” Roman dismisses it with the quickness, directing to the others. “We’re done for the day.”

“Roman, I’m fine. I’m just—probably out of shape.” Maybe, but this feels beyond that. She’s just so fatigued. He helps her to her feet, Solana trying to bargain, “at least let me finish with Bayley?”

He’s not hearing it. “No. You clearly need to ease back into things.” She frowns. I thought I was. “Head to the showers.”

“Roman—”

“He’s right, Solana,” Naomi suddenly sounds, walking over with Bayley. “You’re clearly tired and just need to ease back into and relearn some things. That’s okay. We can do this another day. When you’re at 100.”

“Or maybe she can just continue to train with ya’ll—”

And in perfect synchronized dismissiveness, Roman, Bayley, and Naomi all shut Carmelo down with a simple, “shut up.”

It cracks a smile on Solana’s face. The fact that the majority of them are in agreement is enough to make her realize that they’re probably right in that she should try another day. Maybe even easing back into it. Not necessarily the part about relearning. She remembers everything. Recall is not the problem. This fatigue is, but a part of her is starting to think she knows what it might be.

Just why she’s so fatigued.

And in true Jimmy fashion, he blurts out with the ill timed question, “aye, Soso, what’s for dinner today?”

————

“So why exactly are you fighting again?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked this question. No, it’s been posed at least three different times prior to this occurrence. Just different wording. A different question that’s garnered the same kind of answer every single time.

A part of her recognizes this, but a part of her also doesn’t care.

Solana has always been under the impression, and has essentially been told by several people, Roman included, that he doesn’t really fight in the ring anymore. That he doesn’t need to. That he doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and those words came from him directly.

So, she was and still is, confused when he told her of a match he was competing in. The theme of the fight night being Bad Blood not helping much. At all.

Still, there was no way in hell she would miss attending. Even if her presence wasn’t something that’s technically mandatory. She wants to support him. She’s just nervous about the notion of him being in the ring again, recalling the last time she witnessed such a thing. It was brutal and bloody, and while he came out with the win, relatively unscathed, it still makes her nervous. Because there’s always a chance something can go wrong.

Because she always worries about him, and she’s pretty sure she always will. So long as he is who he is.

Roman, however, couldn’t give two shits about this fight with Drew. Tonight is more of a political move than anything, Roman needing a very public and brutal display of his prowess to remind everyone why he sits at the Head of the Table. It’s truly just an added bonus that he gets to kick the shit out of Drew in the process.

Or worse.

Roman is more focused, borderline distracted, by Solana. The sexy red dress she has on leaves little to the imagination with the low neckline, tight fit, and short length that stops about mid-thigh, rolling even higher as she’s propped on the bathroom counter. Her hair is pinned up, and her makeup is on the lighter, almost undetectable, side. His preference. She’s stunning with and without it, but there’s something he enjoys most seeing her in her natural state.

She just looks good as hell, and if not for the importance of this evening, he’d say fuck this damn match and Drew and spend the rest of the evening with her. A much more desirable and preferable option, truly. But, duty and obligation before anything.

Even his fine ass wife.

Roman waits until he’s slid the black hoodie over his head, smirking a bit at the slight disappointment that appears on Solana’s face at him no longer being shirtless. He decides to slide through that crevice of brief deflection.

“You know the same way you look at me is the same way I look at and think about you.” He’s walking toward her, big hands carefully spreading her thighs so he can step in between her legs. This close, he’s granted a perfect view of her equally perfect breast. “All the damn time.”

He’s unsurprised when her cheeks redden nor when she says anything. “A challenge was issued, and I need to send a message.” That’s a much simpler way of explaining the full scope of just what tonight is, but he also doesn’t want to bombard her with information she doesn’t necessarily need to know.

She licks her lips, and he hates how sexual such an innocent act looks, especially when he knows that’s not her intent. “What—what kind of message?”

A potentially brutal, bloody message, but painting that picture for her beforehand might create some unnecessary anxiety. “A message that won’t need to be repeated.”

That seems to register for her as she asks, “Are—are you nervous?”

That actually makes Roman laugh. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt that emotion. It’s been years. Many decades. Moving his hands to her waist, he tugs her closer to him. “I don’t get nervous, Solana.”

“Ever?”

“Naw.”

She’s still looking at him with that same level of trepidation, maybe even a bit more heightened actually. “But….but you’re still careful, right?” It seems like an otherwise silly question with an obvious answer, but Roman can see where she’s coming from. The fear that fuels it. “Like….like you pay attention and stuff?”

“Of course,” his answer is gentle and patient. Two things reserved strictly and solely for her. “Solana, I’ve been fighting my whole life. I know what I’m doing.”

Her eyes widen, and he just knows he’s in for an unnecessary apology. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”

“Baby.” Yup. Just as he predicted. Bringing his hand to the back of her neck, Roman extends that tenderness, explaining, “I know what you meant. You’re worried, and you shouldn’t be. I’ve got this. Alright?”

She nods a little, and he’s relieved to see some of her apprehension has melted away. With the hand still on her hip, he gives her a light squeeze. “Come on.” Roman stays close as she carefully slides off the counter, her heels giving her a bit of a height boost, but not enough to make a substantial difference. He still towers over her.

And it’s in looking down at her from this angle, and the quick glance of her ass in this dress through the bathroom mirror, he makes a face. “Then again….” Roman slides his hand from the back of her neck, down until he’s palming and squeezing her ass. “Maybe this will be a bit of a distraction.”

“Roman!” She yelps, and he groans at the feel of her. She’s so damn fine and thick in all the right areas that it doesn’t even make sense.

He moves to take her hand, kissing it before guiding her out of the bathroom. “Come on. Before your fine ass makes us late.”

She giggles, holding onto his arm while he hits the light switch. “I didn’t even do anything.”

Roman says nothing, because if only she fucking knew.

If only.

————

Solana was half expecting to be separated from Roman once they reached the warehouse, him needing time to prepare for the fight and whatnot. And while the latter part was true, the first wasn’t. She’s thoroughly surprised when he instead guides her to the back with him to his sizable, impressive locker room.

Roman directs Solana to make herself comfortable, which is almost impossible to do.

It’s hard because she can’t stop thinking about the fact that her husband is going to be in the ring with that man who looked like he would have killed Roman right there on the spot, if he could. The same expression she’s certain he’ll have tonight when it’s just the two of them.

A part of her is starting to wish she would have sat this one out. Stayed home tonight. Her hand falls to her stomach. That irksome, borderline nauseous feeling has been with her all day. On and off the past week, really. Since trying to return to training earlier in the week. She’s certain a chunk of it has been nerves, but the rest of it, maybe most of it, she’s almost certain, is early onset pregnancy symptoms.

Just thinking about the fact that a baby, her baby, their baby is growing inside of her belly warms her entire soul. Temporarily distracts her from worrying about Roman. To wondering. Wondering which of his features their child will inherit. Will he or she have his dark, raven, wavy hair? His smoldering brown, almost hazel like eyes? Will the baby take after her brunette locks? Her nose?

In all honesty, she only wants a healthy child. That’s the most important thing, but it’s also hard for her to not lean more on the side of wanting the baby to be a boy. She knows how important producing an heir is. For the Bloodline. For Roman. Especially with how he’s gone above and beyond to keep pressure off them, off her regarding their lack of an heir.

It’s the least she can do for him. He deserves it.

And she’d love more than anything to give it to him.

Roman stepping back into the vicinity briefly pulls her from her thoughts.

“You alright?”

Naturally, her hand falls from her stomach as she manages a small smile and nod. “Yeah.” She takes in his appearance, noticing his hair is wet and drenched, water droplets rolling down that nearly perfect body she’s grown to love pressed against hers. Not even just for sex. Just in general. Roman’s touch is calming to her.

Climbing down off the table where she sits, she moves over to him. “Are you?”

He chuckles, hand to her hip. “Always.”

She has to believe that.

Solana goes to kiss him when the Wise Man walks back in, forcing her to settle for a hand to his cheek. “Be careful.”

He clearly hears the presence of someone else and only nods, his eyes conveying the unspoken ‘I love you.’ She just offers him a warm smile before she retracts her hand and moves to leave the room, only providing her husband’s chief advisor a quiet ‘hello.’

Security escorts her up to the same VIP seating area as the last couple of times she’s attended events like this at the Warehouse. And as usual, Bayley and Naomi are already sitting and waiting for her.

“Had to give your man that good luck quickie right before, huh?”

Bayley’s comment makes Solana blush and aware of the hickey on her neck she didn't even bother trying to hide. Or the one near her breast.

“She didn’t deny it either,” Naomi snickers, playfully shoving Solana.

Instead of acknowledging their innuendos, she utilizes an actual productive use of time. “I was thinking.”

“Listening,” Bayley responds, the two ladies keenly focused on the new topic.

“Roman has to go out of town next week for……business.” She tries to not think too much about that. It’ll only spike her worry.

“Who’s going to stay with you?” Naomi asks, gesturing to the two of them. “He didn’t ask us.”

Solana swallows. That's definitely something she wants to work on with him. The fact that he still blames them for what happened. “Nia.”

“Nia?”

To be fair, Solana had a bit of the same reaction when Roman first told her his cousin would be staying with her. She’s certain it was…..an interesting discussion, to say the least.

Solana shrugs. “She’s not that bad.” And it’s true. Solana has received much worse from people, in terms of treatment. “And it’s really just….to give me my medicine and stuff.” Because Roman seemed vehemently against and shut it down so fast when she even approached the idea of being able to handle it on her own. Not that….not that she can blame him, per se. “But, I was thinking. What if we went to Isla Mujeres for the weekend? Like that girls trip we were talking about.”

“You talk to Roman about it?”

Solana shakes her head, explaining. “Nia would be with us, so I’m sure he’d be fine.” Because she is. Now, if Nia doesn’t come along, then that’s another story. Though something tells her that once she tells Roman she wants to do this, he’ll find a way to make Nia go along with the plan.

“I think it could be fun,” Naomi shares, rubbing her hands together. “From the pictures you showed us, the beach looks beautiful.”

“It is,” Solana smiles. “I want to invite Cam, Mickie, and Melina too.”

“So do it,” Bayley encourages. “It’s your girls trip. You decide on the guest list. Melina has always been cool. I didn’t know she…..struggled the way she does, but I’ve always liked her.” Solana is appreciative of Bayley’s handling of Melina’s mental health struggles. “And Cam and Mickie seem cool too.”

“They are,” Solana agrees. They really helped her time spent in the hospital and the treatment facility go a lot easier than it could have been.

As per usual, conversation flows naturally between the ladies only to minimize once the night begins, all three paying attention to the various matches, mostly the ones that pertain to the Bloodline.

So, really, Jimmy and Jey’s tag team match against two men that Solana doesn’t recognize, which, of course, the twins come out with the win for. And Roman’s match, the last of the night, because no one comes after the Tribal Chief.

The complete shift in energy when Roman enters the space is truly something to behold. His power and dominance is felt in every square inch of the building. Undeniable excellence and power penetrating almost. She can’t take her eyes off him, his face stoic, determined, focused.

She can see why he doesn’t get nervous. He seems so in his element in this space. Even as Drew comes out with that same level of determination, an almost hatred splayed across his face as he looks over at Roman with ardent vitriol.

Her husband, however, is unbothered.

As he is with most things in life.

Still, the fact that Drew is about what and what with Roman in regards to build and size has her anxiety festering. She knows and has seen for herself how flawless Roman is in the ring. That doesn’t mean she can’t worry though. Can’t wait for this to all just be over with so they can go home.

So she can start figuring out just how she wants to tell him about the pregnancy.

But, that’s a then thing, and this is very much here and now.

The sound of the bell fills the Warehouse as the boisterous crowd continues to erupt, excited to see their Tribal Chief in action.

If only she could relate.

For the most part, the match starts off as expected, Roman being in the lead, staying one or several steps ahead of Drew, expertly dodging or countering hits. Solana is practically on the edge of her seat, chewing on her bottom lip, watching every single piece of the fight. From Roman’s steps to Drew’s lunges to the way both men who seem too large for life go at it like two titans.

Of course, despite looking like one, Roman is no God. He’s still a man, a man who takes several hits from Drew, one making Solana wince. However, she learned from the night of WarGames, Roman hates being hit. It only pisses him off more than he naturally is at any given point.

And that’s proven in the increased brutality of Roman’s hits, Drew being the first to have blood spilled as Roman smashes his head in the steel staircase.

It’s a quick shift though that she somehow misses, because Drew suddenly has Roman in a painful looking headlock. One he seems to take too long to get out of, for her comfort.

Solana moves to the absolute edge of her seat, panic starting to set in the longer Roman’s airway is restricted. And then she sees the way Drew’s mouth moves, the snarl and subsequent smirk as he says something to Roman. Roman’s briefly stunned eyes flickering to hers, but it’s so short, too short to process. Because just as quickly as he was looking at her, he’s managed his way out of the headlock, sending the other man to the ground. Roman wastes no time jumping on top of him, gaining and taking full advantage of the upper hand, raining blow on top of blow on Drew with a pace and aggression that seems almost inhuman.

The light blue of the mat is suddenly splashed and splayed with blood. Drew’s. Roman’s chest and fist also stained, Solana wincing a bit as even from a distance she sees the way Drew's face has become almost disfigured by blood, bruising, and swelling.

He’s clearly lost consciousness, but that doesn’t stop Roman.

No, instead a deep frown falls on her face as she watches Roman move outside of the ring and lift up the metal staircase that he brings back into the ring with him. She turns her head right before the impact between the steps and the unconscious man.

Unalive man, because there’s no way Drew is still breathing. Not with the severity of the beating.

Bayley and Naomi are clearly also taken back by witnessing a live murder but clearly do their best not to make it a thing for her sake. She’s appreciative, but it still doesn’t delete her confusion towards Roman’s behavior.

Overkill. Barbaric. Sadistic, almost.

And with all of that, the confliction she’s experiencing, Solana can only think of one thing, what the hell happened in that ring to bring about that kind of rage in her husband?

————

Roman doesn’t say much to her.

It’s not surprising. She’s not quite sure what there is to say. Him viciously beating a man to death isn’t, at the core of it, something that needs explaining.

That doesn’t stop her from trying to almost dance around the subject. Asks him if he’s feeling alright, if he wants her to fix him anything, and things of the sort. It doesn’t do much. His responses are minimal, a few words to each statement, at best.

It bothers her to know something is bothering him, that he won’t talk to her, but also, Solana can admit she’s not sure how to talk with him about this.

She’d certainly do her best though, if he was actually willing to open up to her.

She doesn’t force it though, just welcomes his arms around her as they lay in bed, eventually falling asleep together.

However, Dulce does what Dulce does best and wakes up in the middle of the night, politely reminding her parents of her small bladder. Regardless of her sleep intrusion, Solana is grateful to be able to escort their puppy out of the room without disturbing her husband’s much needed and deserved sleep.

But, it’s as Dulce seems to take her sweet time finding the perfect spot to relieve herself that Solana frowns. Lifting her hand to her breast, she’s taken back by the tenderness of the touch. New and out of the norm.

Another……symptom?

Even with the night’s unexpected events, as much as she’s trying to not allow herself to get too excited at the possibility of being pregnant, it’s hard not to. Especially with the strange onset of symptoms she’s been experiencing all week. Some seen before or during her cycle, but some new and unfamiliar. And a quick google search confirmed they in fact could be early pregnancy symptoms.

But still, Solana has gained enough self-introspection to know that a negative test would be…..difficult for her to process. Something she doesn’t really even want to think about, hence why she’s not allowing herself to fully acknowledge that she’s probably pregnant.

Because the alternative would be…..not the desired outcome.

It’s as she observes the backyard, seeing the reflection of the lights above the pool that a random thought crosses her mind. A question, rather. Would they have to cover up the pool when the baby starts crawling? What other changes around the house would have to be implemented for safety reasons? Most definitely, they’d have to stock up on those baby proof outlet covers. And maybe even block off the staircase.

Something tells her any child of her husband would be mobile. On the run. A small smile settles on her face, her hand falling to her belly as she once again mentally puts together what their child will look like. Him. Her. Both of them.

Both would be her preference. Roman would be a close second.

Dulce’s short legs carry her back into the house, her wagging tale eliciting a smile and small laugh. “Good job—”

“Where the hell were you?”

Solana jumps and gasps. Outside of his sudden presence in the living room startling her, Roman's tone and volume indicate a level of irritation that doesn’t quite compute. Doesn’t make sense. Where else would she have been?

Confused, she answers, “Dulce had to use the bathroom...”

This didn’t seem to be the answer he neither wanted nor needed. His expression is sharp. “So you went out there alone?”

This brings a frown to her face, a contrast to her almost jovial disposition not even minutes prior. Solana points out in a calm voice, “Roman, I–I always go alone.”

“Not anymore.” She can’t protest, because he adds. “Wake me up, and if I’m not here, let her use the damn crate.”

“But—”

“You heard what I said!”

His voice bounces off the walls and echoes through the hall, but it’s Solana’s jump away from him that seems to trigger something for Roman. His expression immediately softens. “Shit, I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

She says nothing for a good minute before quickly deciding that beating around the bush isn’t the way to go in this situation.

She needs to be direct.

“Ro….what happened tonight?”

She’d briefly played around with the idea of bringing it up to him or letting it lie. Obviously, the latter is not the best route to go. “You….you were off. You lost control, and that’s….that’s not like you.”

In the ring is when she’s noticed he’s most controlled, never allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment and actions because he recognizes the detriment it would cause. Yes, he’s violent and brutal, but it’s still controlled. Not tonight. …tonight she saw that impulsive, emotion driven man she’d heard whispers about over the years. Tonight, she saw him take a man’s life, and not in a controlled methodical way, but in a moment of pure rage and spontaneity.

She’d never tell him this, never allow it to leave her mouth, but for a split second, it scared her. Solana wasn’t naive enough to truly think that his kindness or love toward her made him any less of a cold-blooded killer. And she knows, without a shadow of a doubt that he would never hurt her or direct his anger towards her.

But.

But, the look in his eyes tonight…it was as if he had no soul.

And that….that is what scared her.

His gaze darts to the corner of the room, an intentional act to avoid her own, she’s sure. “He pissed me off.”

“Ro….people piss you off all the time, and you don’t beat them to death like you did him.” It’s such a strange experience, speaking with him so casually. Solana can still recall the tightness in her chest every time she was in the vicinity of this man, the fear she struggled to manage when even looking at him, often keeping her gaze downward. And now, she’s pushing him on what is obviously a lie. Or a deep state of denial. “He—he said something to you.” That’s when he finally sets his eyes on her. “I–I saw it.”

“Does it matter now?”

“Yes—yes, it does, because you just snapped at me for taking our dog out to use the bathroom, something I’ve done for months now.” It’s not until saying that aloud that a thought crosses her mind. “Was—was it about me? Did—did he say something about me?” And when he says nothing, doesn’t deny it or push back or even snap at her again that she realizes that’s exactly what it was.

And it confuses the mess out of her.

What could have been said to cause him to react so violently? Even more, how could it have been any different from the shit talking they all do in the ring?

“I don’t—I don’t understand.” Her eyes follow him as he moves toward the living room, sitting on the edge of the sofa. Tentatively and without much thought, her legs carry her toward him, but she stops just shy of being at arms length. Noticing this, Roman motions her closer with his index finger. And as soon as she’s close enough, he tugs her onto his lap. Seeing the conflict in his eyes, she moves her hand to his bicep. “Baby, please talk to me…..”

Like many, if not any, interaction with her comforting urge, Roman finds it difficult to deny her. He struggles to push back those words that have secretly haunted him even hours after he put a permanent end to McIntyre.

“You really think you can keep her safe?” His cruel taunt, wicked smile revealing the blood building in his mouth, coating his teeth. “She’ll die just like rest of your fucking fam—”

“Ro…”

And it's her soft voice that pulls him from the memory as he shares with her what was said. “He said I couldn’t keep you safe, that you’d die like the rest of my family.” She gasps. Whatever was said had to have been bad and most likely somehow about her. She just didn’t know it would be that.

Shaking her head, she pushes his hair back. “He was just…he was just trying to get in your head.” And I think it worked. Solana would never verbalize as such to Roman, but it’s a thought she can’t dismiss. She’s never seen him this bothered. “Nothing—nothing’s going to happen to me, Ro.”

“I told you before that I don’t—I don’t feel things like you. That I don’t—feel anything.” She remembers it vividly. That conversation between them that was during the early days of their love story. Something that feels so long ago now. “I was wrong. I’ve—I’ve always felt anger, but now I’m feeling other things too, and I don’t know how—” He stops himself, clearly changing directions. “I’m sorry I did that in front of you—”

“It’s fine, Ro. I—” Because despite that brief second of ear, her first and foremost concern is him. It’s always him. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sharing in an almost unsure voice. “I count your pills every day before I go to bed.” She’s still, unmoving, unsure how to process such a thing. Because she knows why, exactly why he does that. And it nearly breaks her heart in fucking half. “Losing you is the only thing in this fucking world that scares me.” Voice shifting into something desperate and almost vulnerable, he says with all the conviction. “Because, I can’t lose you, Sol.” His gaze is on her, burning with determination. And need. “I won’t.”

“And you won’t.” Her hands move to his face, beard bristling against the skin on her palms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” She places an almost tentative, chaste kiss to his temple, noticing how his eyes close after. As if he’s more at peace. “Roman, I am with you until my dying breath, and that won’t be happening anytime soon. Not for you. Not for me.”

And not for their child growing inside of her.

“Why don’t—why don’t we go see Fetu this weekend?” It’s technically early Saturday morning already, and Solana returns to work Monday, but even just a day or two spent with his aunt could probably make a difference for her husband who she sees needs to get away. “Or even if you just go—I can stay—”

“No.” His voice is still low, but it’s not as weighed down. She’s grateful for at least that. “She’d be pissed if I showed up without you.” The hint of humor in his voice makes her heart swell.

“We’ll go.” It’s not necessarily a suggestion anymore. It’s a plan. “You’ll clear your head, and everything will be better, okay?” He looks at her, nodding quietly. Solana makes a mental note to make sure to pack one or two pregnancy tests, because what better way to break the news to him than being able to tell Fetu right after? Together.

It seems like a perfect plan to her.

Noticing Dulce has already left and went back upstairs, Solana suggests the same to her husband. “Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

It’s then that Solana realizes his hand on her hip is moving in slow, soothing circles. She can’t tell if it’s for his comfort or hers. Placing her hand over his, she gives a gentle tug, moving off his lap but never allowing her hand to leave his.

His movements are slow initially, but he stands up and allows her to guide them up the stairs and back into their bedroom. Solana easily resumes their earlier sleeping position, grateful and thankful when he kisses her temple and murmurs, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The exact moment when she falls asleep, or even when he does, is unknown. But what is known is when she’s woken up to the sound of grunts and muttered protests.

“I’ve gotta….save…them.”

Solana blinks and rubs at her eyes. “Ro?”

Sitting up, she sees him twisting and turning, an almost distressed look on his handsome face. Her heart drops. A nightmare. He’s having a nightmare.

Naturally, Solana moves her hand to his shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Roman, wake up.” She might as well have done nothing, because he’s continuing to stir, mumbling in Samoan. Voice so low that even if she did speak the language, she wouldn’t hear him.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs on top of him, straddling him as she continues her efforts to awaken him. “Roman, baby, please wake up.” It’s both familiar and unfamiliar. She knows this struggle very well. Has lived through it almost her entire life, but she’s never been on this end. Been on the side of watching someone go through it.

Least of all, Roman.

And she hates it. Hates it with everything in her because she knows how heavy and devastating it is to be sucked into reliving trauma. That’s why she ups the ante, raising her voice and essentially hitting him on his shoulders.

“Roman! Wake u—”

“No!”

It all happens so fast. Almost too fast for Solana to truly process what’s occurring in the moment. It’s only afterwards that she can recount it, can recall what just happened, can process that at the same time she went to try to save him from himself, Roman shot awake with an instinctive swing, a natural, almost protective thing that results in Solana shoved to the edge of the bed, mouth open, holding onto her face.

It’s an instant stinging sensation, a dull, throbbing pain that she hasn’t felt in some time and never anticipated feeling as a result of her own husband.

A husband who is now awake and also aware of what just happened. His widened eyes and open mouth are on her as Solana winces a bit and flexes her jaw, trying to gather herself. He’s up. That’s the only thing that matters.

“Oh my God.” She’s not sure she’s ever heard Roman sound so horrified. “Solana—”

Her name is enough to pull her back to him, Solana climbing on his lap, shaking her head as she cups his face. “It’s okay. I’m—I’m okay—”

“I hit you….”

Even him saying it aloud seems and feels wrong to Solana. “No, baby—you were having a nightmare. It wasn’t like that—”

“I hit you, Solana.” He’s not even looking at her, looking down, perplexed, disturbed with himself, clearly trying to sit on this unfathomable thing.

“Roman, I’m fine. Really.” Her face is throbbing, and she’s certain she’ll have a bruise come morning, but it’s nothing compared to what she’s received in the past. From the actual hitting she used to be on the receiving end of. From her dad and brother. “Ro, I did the same thing to you, remember? I—I ripped out your stitches.” It’s something she felt horrified at herself for in the moment. Probably close to what he’s feeling even though she’d rather he not because he’s done nothing wrong. “Baby—”

Shaking his head, Roman lowers her hands from his face. “I’m sorry.” She goes to reassure him that he’s fine, that she’s fine, but Roman is fast, easily moving the blankets off him, forcing her to the side, off him.

“Roman, no—” She scrambles off the bed as he goes for the door of their bedroom, effectively planting herself in front of it. “No, you’re not leaving.”

He closes his eyes, his voice almost desperate. “Solana, please.”

“No!” Raising her voice wasn’t an intentional thing, just a result of her own emotions brewing in this moment. She’s not even thinking about herself, about the pain in her face. She’s just thinking about the man in front of her who looks disgusted with himself. “Roman, I am fine.”

Because she is.

Because even with all of her trauma, having been hurt so deeply and badly by men, Roman unintentionally striking her didn’t fill her with an ounce of fear. Didn’t make her want to put as much distance between them as possible. Didn’t have any effect on how she sees and feels about him.

She could only focus on him and how distressing his nightmare must have been to result in such a response.

“I hurt you….” It’s the way his voice almost wavers with the word ‘hurt’ along with his fraught countenance that has her chest tightening. She’s never seen him look so upset, and the fact that it’s solely directed toward himself is gut-wrenching.

“No,” her voice catches in the back of throat, eyes watering. She reaches up and cups his face. “Baby, listen to me. You could never hurt me.”

Something flashes in his eyes, something akin to anger as he asks in a tight voice, “But, I did." She shakes her head, ready to stand here all night trying to convince him that he’s not in the wrong when he takes it a step further. “How is it any different from your dad and brother?”

It’s an active effort to not back away from him, to not drop her hands and for no reason other than putrid disgust. Disgust that he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. To put himself into that category.

Solana swallows, specifically choosing each and every word that leaves her mouth. “Roman…I was raped. Violently. For—for hours. I couldn’t—I couldn’t walk afterwards.” She hates talking about this, hates reliving the horrors just from recounting, but she’ll do just about anything to wipe away that gutted, guilty look on her husband’s face. “Wes—Wes was the reason I first started cutting myself, because—” She closes her eyes, having never said these words aloud to anyone. “Because he made me do it. He said it was my—my punishment for getting our mother killed. And eventually….eventually I started to believe him, so I just started doing it to myself, because I thought it was what I deserved.” Another deep, shaky exhale. “My own father tried to kill me.” Roman’s expression slips into something in the vein of surprised. Confused even. Horrified, mostly. “I tried to run away once, and he put me in the hospital for two weeks and told me that if I ever tried to leave again that he’d— he’d make sure to finish the job.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, and truth be told, she’s not sure she wants him to. She just wants him to listen, really listen and allow her words to penetrate his thick layer of undeserved guilt. “You are the first man in my life to never hurt me the way I’ve been hurt, so don’t you ever fucking say again that you hurt me or put yourself in the same category as those bastards. You are nothing like them.” Because she’d rather walk barefoot on burning coal for the rest of her life than for him to ever even think he’s in the same group as them. “So, please, please just—”

Solana feels it rising, traveling up her body at the most impromptu time. “Shit,” she curses, slapping her hand over her mouth as she dashes to the bathroom, hitting the light, barely making it to the toilet that, thankfully, is already open and ready for her to deposit what feels like everything she ate that day into the commode.

It’s such a miserable, uncomfortable experience, more or less dry heaving over the toilet in the middle of the night.

Just added to the list of unfortunate things that have happened. A heavy wave of exhaustion washes over her as she lays her head down on her arm that’s stretched across the toilet seat. She feels like shit, and it has nothing to do with what just happened.

If only she could tell her husband that.

Because Roman is suddenly behind her, hand on the small of her back, asking if she’s alright. Glancing over at him, she shakes her head, mustering up a quiet excuse of it probably being something she ate.

He doesn’t look convinced, and Solana knows it’s because he’s somehow connecting this to what just happened. She’d give anything to be able to wipe that belief from his mind, to tell him it’s just morning sickness, a common pregnancy symptom.

Because with all of the dots connecting, there’s no doubt in Solana’s mind. Any test would just be a formality. She knows her body.

She knows that she’s pregnant.

But, something tells her that telling Roman this will only make things worse. Make him feel even more guiltier than what he’s already experiencing. Would kill him to know he ‘hit’ her while she’s carrying his child.

This isn’t the way she wants to tell him, either. Not like this. No, it needs to be…..special. After all he’s done and probably had to put up with in order to explain them not producing a child after almost eight months of marriage. She can’t announce it like this.

He deserves better.

The wave passes as Solana stands up and flushes the toilet, moving over to the sink to brush her teeth, praying that’s the extent of it. For now, at least. Roman is watching and observing her closely the whole time.

Mouth clean and stripped, somewhat, of that bitter aftertaste, she takes his hand and guides him back to their bedroom. Gratitude fills her when he doesn’t protest the way she practically climbs on top of him, her body resting on his, an intentional position to prevent him from trying to leave out without her noticing.

“Stay with me….” It’s the only thing that leaves her mouth, a soft but firm delivery. It’s the only thing she wants and needs in this moment, for his arms to remain around her, holding her, the same way she’s holding him.

The way she'll always hold onto him.

————

It’s purely a stroke of luck that allows Roman to wake up at the call of his biological clock and find that Solana is no longer atop him but sleeping on her side, back toward him, deeply immersed in much deserved slumber.

But, it's not even a minute later that a heaviness overtakes him as he’s quickly reminded of what happened. Of what he did. What he did to her.

Roman doesn’t hesitate to carefully climb out of bed and move to Solana’s side, hitting the switch on the lamp for a clear presentation. Something he wasn’t ready for. Not in the slightest.

“Jesus Christ….”

Dread fills him all over again with the illumination of the lamp on Solana’s nightstand. Gives him a full, unobstructed view of the left side of her face. A not even fully formed, nasty looking bruise marring her features.

Roman knew that he had to hit her hard, that she had to be downplaying the impact, but the big ass, dark bruise can’t hide the hideous truth. The extent is ugly and evident. It’s a fucking miracle he didn’t fracture or break something. Because he absolutely could have. Not that that makes a huge difference, because regardless of the severity, he hit her.

He fucking hit her.

It feels undeserving, the way he reaches his hand to gently caress her marred face. His stomach clenches as he mutters the three words that could never change, lessen or take back what he’s done.

“I’m so sorry….” Because he is. Because Roman’s list of regrets in life is minimal. Less than the average person, of this, he’s sure. But this, what happened last night is easily at the top of that list. He doesn’t hesitate to turn the switch off, not wanting to have to see the consequences of his horrific actions, even if he should.

Even if he should have to face it. Should have to be faced with the one thing he swore he would never do.

Because that’s exactly what he’s done.

He doesn’t bother waking her up for her medication. Just leaves it in a small, ramekin-like bowl for her to take whenever she wakes up. With the night she had, he hopes she sleeps for a couple more hours.

And he’s grateful for the time he has to himself, to workout, to shower, to think, to act. Even if it’s all a bit of a blur.

Years. It’s been years since he’s experienced that type of rage. Since he’s blacked out like that. Because that’s exactly what happened. Roman remembers Drew’s ominous threat, recalls the beginning of the beating, but most after that is blotchy. Blurred. And the last time he felt that way….was the night he killed Rhodes' family.

Not that he regretted it then or now. Even Drew. No, what he regrets and doesn’t know how to process is that he lost that control in front of his wife. That he lost it with his wife, resulting in her battered face.

Despite the horrors of trauma she’s experienced at the hands of men in her life and the fact that what happened was unintentional, it doesn’t negate what he did. It was wrong, and she didn’t deserve it.

She doesn’t deserve to put up with any of the shit he’s dealing with right now.

What happened with Jey was something he hated having to do in front of her, but this….this is entirely different.

A line was completely crossed.

And it can’t happen again.

Much later that morning, closer to noon than anything is when Roman finds her in the kitchen changed out of her pajamas and into short shorts and a shirt. Normally, he’d be focused on how good she looks and how much he appreciates seeing her confidence grow to where she doesn’t try to hide her body. But, it’s hard with the dark bruising on her face.

She’s clearly in the middle of fixing something but walks over to him, warm smile on her face as she places her hand on his chest. “There you are.” She leans up and kisses him, sharing, “I was wondering when you’d come out. I’m fixing us lunch right quick before we get on the road.”

She turns back towards the counter right as he says her name. “Solana—”

“Do you want anything in particular?”

“Solana.”

“I can make—”

“Solana.” He says it a third and final time, seeing the way she pauses. Deflection. It’s intentional. She can clearly tell something is wrong. With a slow turn to look at him again, it takes everything in him to not look away. The fucking bruise. “I’m leaving tonight.”

Her small smile immediately drops into a deep scowl. “Wh—what?” He briefly redirects his gaze, focusing on the laces of his sneakers instead of the disappointment he knows he’s about to lay on her. “You want—you want to get on the road tonight?”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to bite the bullet. There’s no need in stretching this out. “No, Solana, I’m—I’m flying out to Italy tonight.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the gutted look on her face. She’s clearly confused, smartly pointing out, “but—but you said you weren’t leaving until next week.”

His jaw clenches as he answers so calmly. “Plans changed.”

Her gaze is intense, her eyes never leaving his. “The plans changed or you changed them?” He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. She already knows the answer. Solana swallows, eyes watering as she walks over to him. “Please don’t do this. Roman, what happened wasn’t your fault. I’m fine.”

“Solana, you are not fine. Have you seen your face?” It’s not intended to be harsh, and the coarseness in his tone is truly directed to no one but himself. “I know my strength. You know my strength. It’s a fucking miracle it’s not worse than what it already is. If I had hit you hard enough and at the right angle—”

“But, you didn’t.” She knows exactly what he’s getting at, and she refuses to allow him to travel down that dark 'what if' road. “Ro, I know you’re upset with yourself, but please don’t do this. You don’t need to leave. I don’t want you to leave.”

And deep down, he doesn’t want to leave. Would love to stay here and just go see his aunt with his wife, but that won’t solve anything. It’s putting an old band-aid on an open, deep wound. He needs to separate himself so that he can turn his feelings completely off. Disconnect and detach.

Or sort through in a way that is violent and unacceptable here. Especially around Solana.

And that’s exactly what being in Italy, being around those people, could do for him.

Roman tries to explain as such to his wife without going into too much detail.

“You’re right. I do need to get away. But, going by Fetu isn’t going to help this.” It’s not going to help, because he doesn’t have an abundance of confusion he needs to sort through. He has anger, aggression, rage. All unlocked by fucking McIntyre that he needs to do away with, and being around his aunt, cousin, and even wife won’t do it. “We can go when I get back—”

She closes her eyes. “Roman—”

“Solana.” He’ll be honest, he expected her to not be happy with his decision, but her level of emotionality seems on the higher end of normal. She seems more emotional than usual. “I love you.” And he always will. “But, what happened last night can’t happen again.”

He won’t let it happen again.

“What if—what if I leave?” She suggests, Roman frowning at the almost desperation in her tone. “I can go stay with Naomi or Bayley for a couple days. Give—give you space.”

“Solana—”

“Hell, even Nia, if that would make you feel better.”

“Sol—”

“Just please.” Her voice cracks as she grabs onto his shirt, begging almost, “please don’t leave me.” She buries herself into his chest, Roman holding her, wanting to assure her that he��s not leaving her. He’s leaving the situation to get a clear mind, to figure out what he needs to do.

Because he wasn’t lying when he said there’s nothing in this world that scares him more than losing her. Than something happening to her.

He just could have never anticipated that he could ever be a direct reason for something happening to her.

That something bad—or worse—could happen to her at his hands.

Because he swore he’d always protect her.

And he always will.

Even if that danger is himself.

Even if it means doing what neither of them may want but is ultimately what’s best for her.

Even if it breaks the heart that will always belong to her.

Whether they’re together or not.

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

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avatar-anna · 1 year ago

Text

It's hot as shit where I live and I may or may not be sitting in front of my ac unit, so...a blurb about that.

"Babe...What the fuck?"

You looked behind you where Harry had entered your apartment without you realizing. Perhaps a little too quickly because your head began to spin, but that didn't stop the wide grin from stretching across your face.

"H! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be...you're supposed to be..."

Shit, where was Harry Styles supposed to be at the moment?

Your boyfriend looked down at you, an amused glint in his eye. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be."

Now, normally that kind of sappy, lovey-dovey language made you cringe, which was why Harry used it so much. He liked to see you squirm. But in your current state, it just broadened your smile and brought color to your cheeks.

"Stop that," you told him. "Now come. Sit with me."

Harry didn't hesitate, joining you on the plushy beanbag chair you were sitting in. The two of you shuffled around until you were both comfortable, which meant you were perched on his lap. You took the opportunity to snuggle up against his chest, breathing in the scent of his clothes and the faint remnants of his cologne—a deadly combination on a sober day.

"Baby?"

"Hm?"

"Why are we in the middle of your kitchen?"

Blinking your eyes open, you looked around, feeling a little sheepish. "Well, the air conditioning is best felt right here, and since it's sweltering everywhere else in this apartment, I made the executive decision to spend some time right where the air blows out. Might as well make the best use of the money I'm spending, right?"

Harry shook his head, more than used to your antics by now. "And it had nothing to do with the wine in that glass of yours?"

"Oh. Well that too."

Laughing, he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, and you let him, happy to be wrapped up in him after spending so much time apart.

"I've missed you terribly," he mumbled, not even bothering to move from where he was pressing kisses into your neck.

"I've missed you too. Wine nights and Survivor aren't the same without you."

Leaning back, Harry reached for the glass you offered him and took a sip of the wine in it. "Good choice," he said offhandedly before circling back to his point. "You're always more than welcome to join me on tour, you know."

"I know."

"And you wouldn't have to pay for a single thing. I would take care of every—"

"H, we've talked about this."

It was no secret that Harry had more money than you did. It wasn't something the two of you talked about, nor was it a point of contention. For the most part. You were more than accustomed to a simpler way of life, and Harry loved spoiling you, and sometimes the middle ground was murky, but you had boundaries. You didn't want him to pay for everything just because he could. You could too, it just took a little longer.

"I know, I'm sorry. Won't bring it up again. Tell me about your day. Was John giving you a hard time again?"

You took the change of subject in stride, always eager to talk about your coworkers who didn't do much work. But in the back of your mind, guilt lingered.

It wasn't like Harry was trying to throw his money at you, he just wanted to spend time with you, and you couldn't really fault him for that. Sometimes it felt like you got in the way of your own relationship, even if Harry never said that himself, nor would he ever. He wanted to help you pay for a trip that would allow you to spend more time with him, why couldn't you let him?

"While this has been fun, I think it's time we take this party to bed," Harry said a while later. You'd spent a couple more glasses of wine on the beanbag chair, but both of you were sporting droopy eyes.

"Classy, Styles," you joked anyway, standing up and offering a hand to help him out of the chair.

Harry stretched his arms above his head when he was finally on his feet, a couple pops coming loose from his back. "Ha ha. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know."

"Don't I know it. Come on, grandpa. Let's get you to bed."

Harry chuckled, but let you lead him down the hall to your room. You got ready for bed side by side, then promptly fell into bed, kicking the covers away so it wasn't so hot while you slept. Harry kissed you a couple times, holding your cheek in his hand as he slotted his leg between yours. Your eyes closed at the feeling, happy to have him beside you again after spending so much time away from each other. But that only made you feel guilty all over again.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, not even bothering to look up as he continued to kiss you.

"Oh yeah? What am I thinking?"

"I'm not upset with you for not letting me pay for your plane ticket. I never have been."

That made you freeze. It took a couple tries, but you eventually managed to hold his face in your hands so you could look at him properly. "Really?"

"Of course. Do I wish you'd let me spoil you the way I really, really want to? Definitely. Do I also love you enough to maintain your boundaries and respect your desire to be financially independent? Also definitely."

You couldn't help but laugh a little, though maybe it was the wine you'd had earlier. "You sound like my therapist."

"Yes, well, I did meet with mine before I got on the plane, so..."

You laughed even harder then, and Harry giggled with you. Leaning forward, you kissed his cheek a couple times, then said, "Thank you. I just...I don't want you to feel like I'm using you, but I also don't want to be the reason we don't spend time together."

"So we compromise," Harry said simply.

"And how do we do that?" you asked, curious to hear his answer.

"Not tonight, silly. Neither of us are sober enough for that conversation. It can wait until tomorrow."

You shrugged as best you could while laying down. Fair enough, you supposed. "Tomorrow, then."

Harry leaned forward and kissed your forehead once before capturing your lips in a kiss. "Tomorrow."

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

Note

sorry if you've answered this before, and i hope you don't mind me asking, how do you know so much about computers and what seems to me like everything in the world? how did you become so knowledgeable? it's amazing

i just know a little about a lot of things and I probably have a fair number of things that I've dug into more than most people and less than people who actually focus on that stuff! It's kind of an illusion!

I do know a lot about computers and that's because I've worked at a computer company for 12 years and have been deep into a computery subculture for about 20 years - I do genuinely know a lot about consumer computers. That I'll own and that's experience.

I know a fair amount about literature because I've got a degree in it!

I know a fair amount about journalism because I've got most of a degree in it and I worked with journalists for a long time!

I know a fair amount about nutrition because I've got most of a degree in it and because I've been focused on reading a lot about nutrition for more than a decade because of my own food issues!

But mostly I'm just someone who falls down rabbitholes and has a decent ability to recall what I find when I run down them.

Also I get curious about things and will just go. Experience them.

Like at some point i came across a site for people who own and use RealDolls and I got interested in learning more. The site required an application because they didn't want people just trolling so I applied and I ended up reading through the whole site and reading the magazines they sent out for years after because it was just interesting. The way these guys bought clothes or compared repair techniques and cleaning techniques, the way they constructed identities for their dolls - it was all interesting! So now I know about the proper way to store a RealDoll and how their skeletons are put together and the best way to prevent rips or clean inserts.

Now imagine that with everything.

I got interested in quack medicine so I ended up reading the entire back catalogs of quackwatch and science-based medicine.

I got interested in the history of aspartame as a scare-word and I ended up reading a couple of books, SEVERAL entire blogs with decades-long runs, purchasing a military magazine from the 90s, and submitting a FOIA request.

But, like. I don't own a RealDoll or work in that industry. I am not a medical professional. I am not a chemist who works with aspartame. So I get these weird little collections of information where I know what *seems* like a lot to someone who hasn't looked into it but I know a lot less than someone who has taken the time to actually dedicate themselves to that topic.

And sometimes it's a years-long dive and sometimes it's a months-long dive and sometimes it's a few hours of me digging online until I feel satisfied with what I've learned and I never come back to it, but I've got three more talking points than your average joe at a party would.

(Also though I've attended various colleges at various levels for ten-ish years now and I've taken probably more college-level classes on a lot of subjects than most people have because I've now spent several years just kind of kicking around at community colleges and deciding that a cartooning class sounds fun or that a mesoamerican art class fills certain transfer requirements or that I might as well brush up on spanish, french, and german. Access to low-cost college classes in california is a big part of this, and having the time and money to take classes while i'm working is something that I've been very lucky with)

I've also worked pretty much continuously since I was 18, sometimes holding multiple jobs at once, and I know a lot of interesting people who do a lot of interesting things and I ask them about their interesting experiences and if they offer me a chance to go do cool shit with them, like launch a high altitude balloon or blow up some dynamite that's about to expire or join a band, I do it!

I was also one of those kids who had no friends and spent too much time at the library so I'd do things like read through medical textbooks or pull a book of home chemical formulas out of the trash and read it or take it into my head that I was going to read all of Shakespeare before I got to high school so I was a really annoying twelve-year-old and that kind of thing never really let up.

I don't know! I don't think it's that unusual and I think most people do this kind of thing I just happen to have less focus than a lot of people and talk a lot more.

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myymi · 1 year ago

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tail wags

Sonic’s ear flicked at the sound of grass rustling behind as he rolled up the two sleeping bags. He was trying to rush so they could get on the move again, having gotten up and moving pretty late today. It had been a lazy morning for the two of them. Instead of running and flying down the road, the two had cuddled up and spent the early sunlight talking about whatever came to mind. Neither of them were really up to being too active today, but the hedgehog knew better than to stay in one spot for too long.

So he forced them up, but let the kid sit out of packing up to stretch his tails before they moved out. It was strange how hard it was to get on his feet this morning, the weight of the kid on his chest more comforting than he ever thought it could be. He didn’t like touching other people. He tried not to let it show around the kid, but physical contact made him want to physically curl away and bolt. He didn’t really get why, but it just wasn’t for him. Or– he thought it wasn’t for him. But somehow that kid managed to blow his mind again. It was insane how often he did that, but he supposes that’s just a trait you have to have in order to keep up with the fastest thing alive. There was more rustling, so Sonic decided to turn around and look at what was the cause of it. His brow furrowed as a confused smile curved his muzzle as he found the cause of the gentle noise.

Tails had his tails pinned against the ground, face scrunched up in annoyance. He hadn’t noticed the tween was looking at him, his attention fully on the two fluffy appendages. His ear flicked a few times, showing he was trying to solve something. "Whatcha doin, bud?" He asked, snorting when the fox jumped. The kit’s ears swiveled before focusing in on Sonic, his head soon turning to look over at him. "My tails aren't listening." He said, lifting a hand to point at his namesakes which allowed one of them to slip free. It started wagging behind him, causing him to huff and reach around to try and catch it. "Whaddya mean they aren't listening?" Sonic asked as he stuffed the sleeping bags into the backpack. It was a tight fit with the two of them, but he learned how to work around it. When they first started traveling together Tails had insisted he slept on the ground, but the tween refused. He lent his to the kid for the first few weeks until he had saved enough money to buy another. Sometimes he would still find loose fox hair in it. "They keep moving when I think about you even though I’m not telling them to!" The fox complained, having successfully recaptured his rogue tail. He held it and the other to his chest, but they still twitched excitedly against him. "Awh, kid.” A fond laugh was pulled out of the older as he walked over to the kid. Tails’ ear flicked as he approached, “They're wagging. Just means you're happy" He explained, reaching down to affectionately muse the kid’s bangs. "But it's never happened before," Tails said, frowning at the appendages. “It’s weird.” “Nah, it’s happened.” Sonic shook his head. He imagined it hasn’t happened much in the kid’s life yet, but he’d definitely caught the twin tails thrashing giddily behind him. “I’ve seen ‘em do it.” That got him to look up, brow furrowed as he soaked up the new information. He was like a little sponge, though squeezing him wouldn’t get him to let go of all the things he’d learned. You’d probably have to pry it straight out of his brain. “What about you? Does your tail ever wag?” The kit asked, head tilting enough to cause his ears to flop over. Sonic shrugged, reaching out to tug at one of the ears despite the swats he received from the younger’s hands. “Sure it does,” He said, snorting when the kid shook his head to free his ear from the hedgehog’s hold which caused it to hit him in the face. “You just haven’t seen it cause it’s small.” “I’ve never seen my tails wag.” Tails pointed out, glancing back at the mentioned appendages. His lips pursed as he considered the new information before turning to look at the tween again and pulled a face. “Are you lying again like you did with the Easter Bunny?” Sonic laughed at that, having forgotten about the times he tried to tell the kid about the usual holiday characters. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t convince the kid things like the Tooth Fairy existed. The first time Tails lost one of his teeth Sonic had tried to swap it out for a few mobiums. It took quite a while to even convince the kid to put it under his pillow, but the promise of mint candy got him to comply. Sonic had done a good enough job at being quiet when sneaking around to his sleeping bag, but no amount of silence could get that tooth without waking the kit up. The second the tween had touched his pillow, Tails shot into a sitting position as if expecting it to have been a badnik. There was just no way to get that kid to believe in them. It didn’t help that he held pretty much all the logic in the world in his tiny, 5 year old brain. Every time Sonic tried to make up a lie for one of Tails’ questions he’d get debunked.

“Nah, this one’s true, keed.” He shook his head, reaching around to poke one of the tails. It twitched in response, “You’re too little to keep all your happiness in ya, which causes your tails to wag.” Sometimes it was odd to teach the kid things outside of breaking badniks. It shouldn’t be. He was 5. He was at the age when kids would go to school to start their journey in learning what they needed to know as they grew up. Tails hummed, searching the older’s face to try and find something that would indicate that he wasn’t telling the truth. “That seems.. weird.” He decided, face scrunching as he tried to work it out in his head. “I have a way to prove it to ya.” Sonic grinned, knowing that Tails would really not like this idea. But curiosity blinded him of the mischief brewing in the older, his head tipping to the side in a silent question. They usually didn’t ask or say things that were obvious in their body language. Neither of them saw the point in it. “Tickling.” His grin widened. He enjoyed messing with the kid, being purposefully dramatic to get any sort of laugh out of him. Really, he just enjoyed hearing it. He wasn’t really sure why, but it was a more calming sound than anything nature could provide. “No!” The fox’s reaction was instant. He was in the air in a second, out of the hedgehog’s reach. Sonic laughed up at him, rising to his feet while holding his hands up in a mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I won’t.” He promised, nodding at the kit to land back down. Tails’ eyes narrowed, but he did as he was told. His feet softly touched the ground a few steps away from the tween for good measure, but it didn’t really matter when you considered the older’s speed. But Sonic was a hedgehog of his word, so instead of poking at the kit he settled for a hair ruffle. His hand was still swatted away with a pout anyway, but the twin tails swayed happily behind the kid. “See?” He pointed at the appendages, smiling as the younger blinked at them. “You just don’t realize when it happens.” Tails considered them for a few moments more before frowning. “I really don’t think they used to do that.” He mumbled, watching as his tails wagged. Sonic frowned as well, how could a kid go so long without ever feeling happy enough for his tails to wag? They shared a silence for a few seconds until the kit suddenly beamed, grinning up at the hedgehog. “Maybe they were broken and you fixed them!” And oh, if that didn’t make his heart swell up in the most painful way. Nothing about this kid was broken. Being born a little different wasn’t a bad thing and he hated that this poor kid had been convinced it was. If anyone was bad or broken it was that stupid village. They were the ones who tormented a child because they didn’t like that he stood out a little. But he didn’t mention it. Tails never did like talking about Westside, so Sonic tried to avoid it whenever he could. “I’unno. Maybe they just now figured it out.” The kid shook his head at that, smile still bright as ever, “They couldn’t have, I didn’t even know they were broken in the first place. Well— I did, but not like that.” “Okay–“ It was Sonic’s turn to shake his head before crouching down to be at eye level with the fox. “They weren’t broken, kiddo. They just needed a second to catch up.” He said, voice firm as he placed a hand on the younger’s shoulder. Tails’ head tilted again as he thought those words over, “..Like me on our runs?” “Exactly!” Sonic grinned, he didn’t even think of making that connection. “Nothin’ wrong with it, they just needed time.” The fox pursed his lips and nodded, satisfied with that answer so the tween ruffled his bangs as he stood back up. With his hands on his hips, he glanced around at what remained of their little campsite.

He had packed up everything, but the light indents in the grass still outlined where everything was. “Speaking of our runs, I think it’s ‘bout time we blow this joint.” He said, turning to look back at the kit with a hand outstretched, “whaddya say, keed?” Tails beamed back, his smaller hand immediately grabbing the older’s with a large smile, “Let’s speed!"

happy wednesday

#miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #sth #tails the fox #sonic #unbreakable bond #dynamic duo #sonic and tails #wsatw #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #wholesome wednesday #myydrabs #sonic fic #sonic fanfic #sonic drabble #drabble

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konigsluvr · 1 year ago

Note

Hey hey! I'd like to request König headcanons please. I was thinking more of his childhood but it can be anything really :D thanks x

Also I'm an Avatar fan too! Don't seem to know a lot of people who are into both #teamneteyam

Hey!! I looooove Avatar so much, I haven't been reading it much lately but 2 months ago I was on tumblr all day, everyday just reading various Avatar fics (best days of my life). I miss neteyam so much :(( I really hope this is to your liking<3 i have included some NSFW headcannons, but there will be a warning, if you are uncomfortable, just skip. Reposts are highly appreciated. I will literally marry you. And of course, here I present...

★ navigation ★ masterlist ★

König Headcanons

Includes: Childhood König. König x fem!reader. Fluff. Spice. Smut.

☆ As said in his biography, he has suffered from severe social anxiety throughout his life. This probably started developing in maybe late childhood/early teens.

☆ I can picture him as the quiet kid in school. Had a couple chill friends that he was comfortable around and hung out with after school.

☆ I think König was average grade student (like me lmao), not bad grades but not super good either, he just did what he had to do at school.

☆ He liked helping around the house so he could contribute and help his parents save time.

☆ He applied to the military at 17, having a job that allows him to blow off steam would help with his anxiety sometimes but if it's a more dangerous mission than usual, his anxiety might peak but he could have coping mechanisms.

☆ Even though he is 6'10" and literally all muscle, he can't stay still. Due to his anxiety again, he is fidgety at times depending on the social situation he is in. Now this leads onto the relationship stuff.

☆ With him being fidgety, I feel his love language is physical touch. He can sometimes struggle with his words but you always know that he loves you when he cuddles you or does little things like playing with your hair or holding your hand whenever you are in public.

☆ König isn't the best at working with technology but you'll show him how he can text you and phone you, so whenever he has free time at base or whenever he isn't with you, expect him spamming you with texts because he misses you so much :((

☆ He has a gym at home for when he wants to work out but with him having such a physical job he doesn't feel the need to workout everyday, maybe 3 or 4 times a week when he's home with you but at base he'll do it more as its like the only thing to do there.

☆ He enjoys going on walks. When he's home with you he'll love going on a walk in the woods or just wondering around town with you, go shopping to get food for supper or something, he'll sneakily buy flowers to surprise you. At base, he sometimes can't sleep well so he'll just walk around for some fresh air to clear his mind.

☆ His down time with you would be watching your favourite show or a random movie. He would do it just to cuddle up or be with you but he will get invested. Like I watched the notebook last night and I was thinking about König crying as you watch the notebook together.

☆ Like you'll be watching the movie and a sad scene comes up, you are already crying and you hear a sniffle but it isn't from you. You turn to your left and see a tear rolling down Königs cheek. This will make you cry harder as you wipe away his tears and cuddle into his neck.

☆ With König having a high payed job, he has a lot of money that he doesn't know how to spend. Lucky him, he has you. You would tell him its no bother, that you have enough clothes and pretty jewellery to last you a lifetime but he drags you to the car to your favourite store and you can't help but give in.

☆ He would get a former guard dog and train it to only command you and him, this dog would stay at home with you all the time. You would take it out walks and just spend your whole day with it. He wants to make sure you are safe all of the time.

NSFW AHEAD!!

☆ He likes to take it slow, make ethereal love to you and treat you like your made of glass. You would let a few tears roll down your cheek from his sweetness.

☆ Pussy eater!!! He is like a god with his tongue. Worships your clit like its his favourite thing while his fingers work in and out of you. It doesn't matter if you are crying from overstimulation, you have a safe word. His only mission is making you cum.

☆ Loves face sitting, literally just loves your pussy on his face and your thighs pushing against the side of his head. You would tell him that you are too heavy, he huffs frustrated and pulls you down on him and instantly gets to work. Let's just say, you forgot about what you said 3 seconds ago.

☆ Breeding kink. Sorry, not sorry. In all his fantasies about you, it's you all pretty n pregnant with his baby. You will have that pregnant woman glow and he just can't keep his hands off of you. He doesn't really wear condoms but you'll usually be on the pill, he still struggles to pull out but it's nearly impossible for him. But when he does cum in you, he finds it the sexiest thing ever. He'll use his fingers to plunge his load back into you to feed his growing hunger.

☆ He loves when you top him and take your time with him, but he also enjoys being in charge and having his sole focus on you, even if you just came for the fourth time from his tongue and his cock is rock hard.

☆ The ratio between him giving you head and you giving him head is very diverse. He loves a good blowie but only does it when you want to, he will never ask you.

☆ Isn't one for quickies, he wants to take his time with you. He wouldn't like the risk of someone else seeing you being intimate with him, that is a sight only for him to see.

☆ Isn't afraid to make noise in the bedroom. Whimpering. Moaning. Whining. Groaning. He does it all.

I hoped you liked this!! If you have any more requests don't be shy. Stay safe and take care of yourself my lovies xx

#konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #konig fluff #konig smut #konigsluvr

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velvet-paradox · 5 months ago

Text

Dream

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: König x Female reader/Velveteen Summary: 70's porn star! AU <-- that's it… that's the whole thing Length: LONG ( I got carried away & I am NOT sorry) Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY, strong language, explicit content, sex work, a little misogyny, tobacco mentions, alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, blow job mentions, unprotected p in v, creampies, coworkers to lovers, a little somnophilia, heavily detailed smut. ENJOY!!!

You thought it was a dream, surely it was some made up mirage. There was no one and no way someone was calling you this late into the night. But alas, you blinked your blurry eyes open, one at a time, just to be sure your mind wasn't playing a terrible trick on you.

But it was terribly true.

You fumbled your hand around for the receiver, gripping it as if you were about to bash whoever was on the opposite end right in the nose.

"Hullo?" Your tired voice asked, flinging your other hand over your eyes. There was some shuffling and ruffling sounds, someone was shouting in the background and Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac could be faintly heard through the chaos.

"This better be fucking important."

"Y/N! Oh thank fuck, I need a favor." It was Tammy, your agent sounding frantic as she cursed at someone nearby.

"Now?"

"Yes now! The new girl must've been nervous as shit to film because she showed up fucking trashed, we can't use her." Tammy huffed into the phone. "We're losing time and money!"

"What's that got to do with me, Tam?"

"An I.O.U. I swear I'll make it up to you if you can get your ass up and ready to film. I can get you a car in ten minutes." Tammy was good people, always put you first even if her brash tone and stony glare had others hightailing it out of her office. Sometimes they were crying; men and women.

"Who's shoot is it?" You asked with a huff as you sadly came to the conclusion that you were not going back to bed at 2:45AM. It was a Wednesday night for fucks sake!

"The Colonel." Tammy's voice flinched.

"Seriously?"

"Come on please Y/N, be sweet for me ok? I'll do your laundry for a week… no a month! Dry cleaning too, you name it you got it. Plus," you could hear the click of a lighter followed by a deep inhale, no doubt another cigarette burning between her chapped but painted lips. "I'll even give you a "$300 advance."

"You do know we're not on speaking terms, right?"

Tammy snorted. "What? Since when?"

"Since Going Down in the Valley! He really gave me an earful on how I should've done better and stretched my jaw before coming to set. So I told him in not so many words that I'm not one of his little soldiers that he can boss around. He didn't like that too much."

You said with a sigh, remembering the stern look he gave down his nose, over his entire head covering. His crossed over massive arms and tilted his head with a click of his teeth. He really didn't like it when you mirrored his posture.

"We'll figure it out when you get here, yeah? For me please, Y/N? You know your my best girl and honestly you're really the only one who can thoroughly handle him." Tammy swindled her way into your veins and answer.

It was tempting. A little too tempting as you weighed your options. Rent was due, the fridge was a little lacking, you needed gas…

She practically squealed with delight as you agreed to the offer, hanging up the phone to take a quick shower and grab your to-go bag before the car arrived.

….

Once on the set, or what was today's mansion and master bedroom of choice, Tammy had rushed up to you with a make-up bag and a flash-in-the-pan hug. She thrusted the two page script to your chest. After curling your lashes and sweeping on some gloss, you slipped into the slinky dress as you went over the obscure dialogue. It was something different. Something soft and sweet.

A couples anniversary, some heavy petting on the ride home, taunts of playfulness. Intrigue. Lust.

Not the rough stuff you were used to when it came to shooting with The Colonel.

Your strappy heels clicked along the freshly polished floors, boom mics and camera men moved around you like puffs of smoke, Tammy who was indeed smoking was frustrated with the lighting.

You paused when you saw him.

König was dressed in a nice and well tailored suit, the jacket held his bulky arms tightly, the button down was checkered and stretched to the very last thread. He looked good. Even though you were giving him the silent treatment as of late, you could appreciate fine art when you saw it.

Your body thrummed when König adjusted his signature face covering hood, messing with the hem before he turned around and saw you for the first time.

You opened your mouth to say something when the bigger, much bigger man spoke.

"Oh no. No no. Nein nein nein!" The Colonel threw up his hands and headed for the master bedroom door.

"Colonel, wait." Tammy shouted, tossing her cigarette into the sink with sizzle, chasing after him and touching his forearm.

"I am not doing a scene with her again." He stated and pointed down at the feather haired agent, he did give you another look though before tearing his arm out of her grip. "Not until she apologizes."

"Well nice to see you too, sir." You snorted and leaned against the built in vanity, fluffing your hair a bit more, fixing your necklace.

"Watch it!"

Tammy put her hands up between the pair of you, the frames of her glasses slipping down the slope of her button nose. You looked up at your co-star, with a head tilt of your own.

"Come on you two, what happened to your chemistry? You guys made us all fucking rich when we shot Tits For That! Can't you put whatever the hell you've got goin' on on the back burner to make some dough?" Tammy made the money gesture with her two fingers in your face. "Who doesn't like money? Think of how much fun we had shooting Bunker Bunny 7!"

"I refuse to work with such a petulant little brat like Velveteen." He huffed, the mask billowing slightly. "You're mature enough to get railed on film but not apologize? Make sense, bitte!"

"Oh, here we go." You sighed and rolled your eyes, truly one of the only things König couldn't stomach unless he was fucking the brat or sass out of someone.

"Can't you two please be adults?"

"So I gagged a little too hard, big deal?! You have women choking on that thing twice a week but oh no, I do it once and make it sloppy and suddenly I'm the only one being scolded." You snarked, a few of the crew members made a noise and moved out of view. König scoffed and Tammy put her head in her hands, thumbs going to ease the headache you two were throwing at her.

"I did not scold you. I tried to help you and you then spat on my boots remember? Real mature."

"Too bad."

"Children! Please, we're not getting any younger and we're losing time here. Can you both please just try and get along so we can get this done and go home."

"I was at home." You made a face and then apologized to Tam, it wasn't her fault.

….

Elise, Tammy's older sister with the fresh haircut and extra long shiny nails, who had started her career on the same side as you only a few short years ago, was now the director. You could hear her calling out positions, where was her coffee? And where on Earth did that cat come from?!

You stood on the landing with König , waiting for your turn to enter the scene and get it over with when you felt his hand on your shoulder.

"Yes?"

"You truly are stubborn you know that, ja?"

"Seriously?" You ground your teeth and seethed behind them, even more so when he gave your arm a squeeze and a little drag closer to him.

"Why are you so upset with me when you're the one who put us in this mess in the first place! All I did was mention something to you."

You scoffed and looked up at in his suit, now with the jacket on.

"Seriously? You pretty much told me I don't know what I'm doing and then proceeded to give me a play-by-play of how to suck dick. I know what I'm doing and I've had no complaints. You've seen my work and we've been co-stars more than a few times by now. Plus, you're the one who made the scene out there just now, not me!" You snapped and fixed the strap of your dress in annoyance.

"I was not telling you what to do, my dear. I only gave you but a few pointers."

"Pointers? I think I'm good thanks."

"I know you know what you're doing but--"

"But what, big guy?"

"I was not instructing you on how to suck cock," König shifted and took his hand away, instead he put in his front slack pocket like the other. "You are perfectly capable and quite good at it. I was instructing into you how I'd like you to perform on me. Specifically."

"What?"

"I don't care how those other women suck me off. I don't care for them. I do however care about you and if were not so stubborn you might have noticed that by now, hmm."

Well that was certainly news to you.

"If you weren't scolding me-- wait." Bells and whistles were soon going off in your head, ringing in your ears that he had some sort of affection, attachment to you. Yes you had chemistry, yes you two got along, yes you two… then it it hit like a car crash dummy. "Oh… oh no."

"Oh ja. That's what I've been trying to explain to you, my dear but you are so incredibly particular, you just wanted to be sassy about it. So I let you. Actions have consequences you know?" König's voice held a lilt to it, as if he had the audacity to be smiling under that hood.

"Oh this is embarrassing."

"Not as embarrassing as you still not apologizing."

You shrugged your shoulders, turned and took his hands in yours. "I'm sorry Colonel. I thought you were giving me shit and telling me I couldn't do my job."

You thought back to that mid-afternoon shoot. On your knees, mouthful and panties wet. König had been moving your head around while he fucked your throat, telling you this and that, how to make him feel good. He wanted you to make him feel good.

You felt guilty now. For two weeks of feeling like shit and taking on roles so you wouldn't have to think about fighting with The Colonel and here it was all a misunderstanding. Your fault.

"You are forgiven, my dear." König said with a smile in his voice, squeezing your hands as you could hear Elise call out that they were ready for you.

"Well if that's the case," you squeeze his hand through his pocket. "I better make this worth it."

"You always do." König chuckled.

….

He destroyed you.

It was strange at first, this soft version of König - you didn't know he had it in him.

With his ex-military background (and Lord knows what he's done or seen!) he was a stickler for routine - order. It made things simple. A blowjob or a sloppy handy, sometimes both because The Colonel literally packs a punch. Girth alone made you feel stuffed. It wasn't until he got the pace down, touched the inside of your knee, moved the silk hem of your dress and thrusted into you. All in one go. His thick fingers had prepped you quite nicely, just like usual.

You got a thumbs up from Elise to get louder, greedier - hungrier for the Austrian inside you, which wasn't hard at all if you were being honest and you had promised to make up your communication error worth it.

A shout of his name, scratching your nails down his thick back had him grunting and fucking down into you harder and faster. Little tears and black dots tickled the corners of your eyes.

"You're so fucking deep!" You sobbed into his bicep, taking a chunk of his soft and conditioned muscle into your mouth.

"You like it that way, no? I can always go deeper, my dear. How would you like that, then?"

"Deeper?" You played your roles well, creasing your brow, biting your lip as if you were truly his innocent wife.

Through the hood you could see how blue eyes darken, a smile in his tone. "Deeper."

He pulled himself out of your sex, thick cock coated in your arousal. Just the sight of him, sparse and glistening pubic hair with you, made you bite your lip. He flipped you over, knew the right angle for the camera and gave your ass a hard spank. It echoed through the bedroom. The noise you made sounded painful but in reality, to be under König's hand, his touch, his body, his musk made it feel like a kiss.

"Say you're ready for me, princess. Say your ready for your Colonel to fuck you nice and deep." He cooed and taunted from behind you, hoisting up your lower half, massaging your cheeks, slapping his length against your pussy.

You looked at him over your shoulder, all blissed out eyes and spit slicked lips. "I'm ready for you Colonel."

Good thing he pushed your head down into the fluffy pillows to muffle your shouts of pleasure because in between the cries for him fucking you, the angle of your hips, how deep he was hitting that spot only König could seem to reach… you whined his name.

His real name. ….

It wasn't the first time you'd let König slip from your lips; only difference was you were always alone when you said it. Not in a room full of boom mics and camera men.

After you finished the shoot and pulled on warm terry cloth robe, thanks to Tammy, you made your way into the master bath to clean up. As you lifted your leg and planted your foot on a very ornate and well cared for clawfoot tub, what remained of König's spend dripping out and down your thigh, the door suddenly opened.

"Just a minute God dammit!"

" 's just me," König announced, slipping into the spacious room. Without a care in the world he sauntered past you to take a piss.

"Really?" You guffawed and turned away, grabbing a fresh washcloth from the ring rack, wetting it.

He snorted. "I quite literally just came inside of you, my dear. This is nothing." He finished, flushed and sat down on the toilet, a robe of his own draped over his shoulders.

"Are you planning on watching me clean you out, or what?"

"I thought you were apologizing, princess. Taking up an attitude like this won't do."

You sighed and tossed the cum rag into the hamper. He'd crossed his arms over his chest and for a split second he looked tiny, cute. "How can I make it better?"

"Take me out to dinner."

"What?"

"We both need to eat. Especially after all that."

"König it's like 4 in the morning."

"So what? Take me to breakfast then."

You scoffed but the look in his eyes and body language, the tilt of his head and little tap taps of his feet on the linoleum floor, meant he was quite serious.

As serious as he was about French toast and runny eggs it seemed as well. You'd done a lot of things with the giant sitting across from you at some hole in the wall diner but eating together was not one of them.

….

Roller Sluts 5.

The cover screams, begs, cries for your attention. Not because it's naughty or too risqué to be in the back of a video store in the ADULTS ONLY XXX section and certainly not because it's number five in a roller rink sex fest. Oh no. It's because it's you on the cover.

Tam had set up the photoshoot months ago, helping her go over the negatives in her luxury home in the sprawling green hills. Laying on your stomach, bare feet and legs kicking as you got your pick for your first solo cover. Usually there were other girls with you, a compilation of arms and legs, flirty glances to the camera or to each other.

You smiled as you mentally gave yourself a little gold star for picking the right image of Velveteen.

A deep navy backless halter top, white trimmed short shorts, knee high ribbed socks and glittering roller skates. You looked almost innocent on the cover, looking over your shoulder as you bent over just enough to show a little cheek, a wink on your face and coy smile.

You were the main attraction of the nudie film, saved the best for last to get railed in. A burly and handsome, devil may care Scotsman by the simple name of Soap (you knew him quite well to call him by his birth name) had cored you out in the Arcade area. You were meant to play Space Invaders when Johnny makes his debut, eating you out from behind, fingering your ass a little before destroying you and your score.

Someone clears their throat, bringing back to the store, out of the fun spring shoot.

A young man, no more than 23 with a soul patch came around the corner, nodding towards the VHS in your palm.

"Are you Velveteen? Like the Velveteen?" The kid stuttered, coming closer and cautiously.

"In the flesh." You smirked and put back the tape.

"Holy balls!" He exclaimed and rushed to shake your hand, his bright eyes never leaving your face. "My friends' are never gonna' believe this. I'm a big fan, I've like, like I've seen everything you've done."

Patchy over here damn near shook your hand clean off before wiping his brow and palms on his jeans. "My pop is gonna' be so pissed he didn't wanna' drive me today!"

"Another big fan I take it?"

"He's the one who showed me Carnal Car Trouble!"

Your third film; your first shoot with König.

Fuck you were so nervous. Intimidated wasn't even close, especially when you met him in person after watching and studying his legit, dirty work for a week. He was big all over. His thighs were the size of a solid tree trunk, waist trim with a deep Adonis cut. His hands, in those tactical gloves, fixing your car under the hood before you were to repay him with what you had that wasn't in your wallet.

That first stretch of his cock was immense, even if it was already slick and covered in your spit. You still felt König 36 hours after that, your scalp was on fire and your make-up was completely ruined by the end of the night.

You autographed a copy of Carnal Car Trouble, made out to the kids' father before leaving the backrooms empty handed. Though you did stop at the door, recognizing König, Soap and another beefcake porn star named Ghost on the cover of a magazine. You hadn't worked with him yet but the way Johnny gushed over the guy, you felt like you knew him well.

….

Tammy called a few days later, another shoot, another idea. She even mentioned that Elise wants to do an actual photospread for Playboy! Not the centerfold the girls you worked with and lived with strived for, no, but a shoot for the team would be bring big bucks and more eyes on Velveteen.

With your head in the clouds, excited and nervous to be in an actual magazine a car honked and stopped you from roller skating down the sidewalk. You turned to see a familiar green Jeep.

With a smile and push off from the curb you rolled your way over to the passenger door, watching the glass disappear as König rolled the window down.

You rested your arms on the frame, ducking your head inside just a bit. "Sorry; you can't afford me, old man."

"Ha ha," König rolled his eyes and that's when you noticed his attire. He wore a nice all black suit and jacket, a forest green silk tie somehow fit around his neck. He looked good. He smelled good, too.

"Got a hot date or what?" The fact that he might be made a stone form in your gut.

"Actually I was looking for you." He admitted as your eyebrows rose.

"For moi?"

"Für dich. Tammy wants to see you. ASAP."

"I just talked to her a few days ago."

"Something important came up I guess. Hop in, cutie."

You snorted at his little pet names, used to them and quietly seeking them out, geeking over how they made you feel and climbed in, taking his hand so you wouldn't slip on your skates. He let you mess around with the radio while he drove, a couple of times you'd catch him tapping his fingers against the wheel.

König really big Bowie was a pleasant surprise.

"You did it!" Tam practically screamed, running around her living room, smoke following her as she circled her desk for the third time as you and The Colonel looked at like a chicken with its' head cut off, which is exactly what she looked like.

"We're gonna' be stinkin' rich!" Tam laughed maniacally while you The Colonel exchanged bamboozled looks.

"What's going on?"

"What's going on, she asks! Oh honey bee I got off the phone with the boss, the head honcho downtown and your films are flying off the shelves! Did you really sign a copy for some punk?"

"Oh. Yeah that was weeks ago."

"Which one?" König asked, curiously crossing his arms behind himself. At ease.

"Carnal Car Trouble."

You didn't miss the way his body jerked when you answered.

"Well thank fuck for that because you're all anyone is talking about and the big boss is giving you your first starring role," Tammy held the cigarette between her teeth and snatched a scribbled down note on the back of coffee ring stained napkin.

Velveteen Dream.

"None of that straight to video shit for you hon," Tam proudly looked at you, proud of her number one fuck doll. "You're name will be front and center on the marquee. You're going to be in theaters baby!"

Your name in lights.

"You did it kid," König gave you a side hug, affection outside of work felt strange but good. He was proud of you too.

"Do it with me."

"What?"

"Be my on screen." You looked up at him, hopeful - begging. You trusted him the most, with or without clothes. He looked between Tam, who gave him shrug, without so many words saying he could if he wanted to and then back to you.

"If you say so."

….

The theatre was packed, not an empty seat in the whole place! Chatter and laughter bounced off the emerald embossed walls, some people (other than you, The Colonel, Tam and Elise of course) had dressed up. Some fans had spotted you and König right away, he's hard to miss when he can see over everyone like some sort of surveillance up there.

The shower scene left some of the audience breathless. You could hear it in the room. König gave your knee a squeeze, before he moved it back to his own you stopped him and kept it there. You needed extra grounding, watching yourself for the first time on the big screen.

Everyone can see your pleading face, your desperately wiggling in The Colonel's big strong hands, your fingers flex in his grip. He holds them above your head with one hand, covered in soapy suds and running water while the other is finding that perfect, spongy patch inside your gummy pussy.

"Oh fuck yeah!" Your voice echoes, making you clench around nothing as you remember the exact feeling. "Keep fucking me with your fingers, big guy. I want you to make me cum."

You look a fucking mess as you blush, watching yourself crumble as König turned a bit to show off how hard he was, the curve of his naked ass got a few women to holler at the screen. Everyone laughed. He had lifted your leg then, over his thick forearm to change the angle. The camera getting a full look at your trimmed bush, how fast and how deep The Colonel was finger fucking you to a sobbing climax.

The kitchen scene was loved by all. You didn't think you would get aroused from watching yourself and König, it was a job but… something about seeing it from an outsiders view made it seem more real. You could see how he looked at you, how thoughtful he was in gathering up your hair as you swallowed him down your throat there at the kitchen table. You had remembered to stretch your jaw this time. Spit was everywhere, your eyes looked so pretty all mascara streaked. You dug your nails into his naked thighs, dragging them towards his knees as you took his cock a little further.

"Look at you, my dear, so greedy for cock, ja? You'll take it wherever you can get it, hmmm? I like you like this, pliant and useful just like that body of yours. I am going to ruin you."

And he did.

That kitchen table didn't stand a chance, it shook and creaked, and begged for as much mercy as you did getting fucked on top of it. He's propped your leg up in an L shape on the wood, holding on your hip as he pounded you out. That grip he held on the back of your neck, facing the camera as you whined and grabbed at the tablecloth. He hadn't seen it then in the moment but as you looked at the screen, staring at yourself you licked your lips and smiled at the camera.

König squeezed your leg again when he saw it.

The main event was coming and the tension and squirming in the auditorium was intense, the room was hot and you were fairly certain the couple behind you was doing more than just watching the screen.

The bedroom is dark, just a table lamp is on casting shadows all over the screen and all the viewer can see is König's big, muscular back, a white sheet covering his lower half and his hand is moving back and forth. One might think he was just on display jerking off but it's not until the camera moved to show you there, on your side asleep as he groped over your tits, squeezing them, playing and tugging at your nipples as you slept. The crowd made an audible gasp.

"Just so pretty when you sleep," The Colonel announces, breathless as he moved his hand down your body, taking his time in spreading your legs, showing God and everyone your cunt. "So soft and loose, fuck you're wet even in your sleep, just gonna'--" The noise he made when he easily slid his middle finger inside you. You licked your lips as you watched him finger you, his ring finger joined the party and the thick pad of his thumb pressed down on your clit. You jumped in your "sleep", a few women behind in front of you gasped and turned around to look at you with cheesy grins.

"Takes my fingers so well, gotta' prep this cute little hole for my fat cock, right? Can't core you out without doing some work first." König groaned when he pulled his fingers out, wet and glossy with your juices. You moaned quietly and moved your legs further apart as he started to lift your leg, stopping for a moment as he waited for you to settle back into "sleep".

He kept your leg up, holding it softly, gently rubbing his mask to the back of your head before rocking his leaking cock between your folds, gathering up more and more of your arousal as lube.

"Good girl, stay sleeping… I'm just gonna' ease right into this pussy. My favorite pussy, ja. Nothing like it, fuck." The Colonel admitted on screen as he pushed himself into you.

König fucked you slow and steady, the drag of his cock inside you was full and at times overwhelming but he know how to treat you and your body, you had never gotten off as thoroughly with another co-star or partner than with the big ex-KorTac operator next to you.

He had moved your leg a little higher then, showing the camera how good you could take his size. Watching it disappear inside you, rocking back and forth as his large hand separates your labia, touching what's left of his shaft as he groans in your ear.

Suddenly your eyes blink open and you gasp, looking back at him.

"What… What are you doing?"

"Shhh baby it's okay, go back to sleep okay?" The Colonel grunts and attempted to close your eyes but you're "waking up" now and getting fidgety.

"Do you do this a lot? Do you fuck me in my sleep?"

König paused to look down at you. "Nein. This isn't the first time."

"That's so… that is so fucking hot." You moan and loop your arm around his neck, looking at him drowsily and kissing his mask. "You fucking me while I'm unconscious, using my body. Do I cum?"

The Colonel grabbed you tight, rolling you onto your back, hovering over your naked body. This looks like watching a couple on film versus just two actors but you must be doing something right.

"Oh baby you cum so hard and it feels so good, like your body just knows what to do, milks my cocks dry."

"You cum inside me too?"

"Every time."

"No wonder I'm sticky when I wake up sometimes."

"Can't help it, this pussy was made for me."

It sounded like an admission, like König meant it. It made you feel hot as you continued watching yourself fuck on the screen. It's not until he leans over in his seat do you realize you're holding your breath.

"I didn't lie about that part."

Startled, as if he read your mind you look over at him and when the shot changes to show you now in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, his thick hands under your ass lifting you up and down his cock, moaning loudly and holding his masked face to your chest do you look down and see the bulge in his slacks.

His eyes are locked on yours, your bodies moving on the screen are the last thing you're worried about at the moment. Because you're thinking the exact same thing.

….

"Fuck me you feel so fucking good. How do you feel this good all the time? Fuckin' magical pussy I swear!" König admitted once he was balls deep, taking your hand as you snuck out of the theater and into one of the private bathrooms. You couldn't get your dress hiked up fast enough, your panties to the side, bent over the sink. Getting railed for the first time without a camera present had you both feral.

You barely got to taste his pre-cum before he had lifted his hood for the first time, ever, and kissed you hard and fast on the mouth. You whined and held onto his heavy arms, pulling your body into his. Your breasts pilled out over the silk slip you wore for the evening, looking frantic into the mirror in front of you both.

"You're so fucking thick baby, you fill me up so good."

"Oh ja? You like being a greedy little toy for me don't you? You are so fucking juicy."

You hung your head then, moaning his name and getting dragged back and forth on his cock. This was more sensual of course because you weren't being watched with eager eyes, this was just for you two. König reached between your legs once he kicked them apart a little further and lightly, at first, rubbed your clit in little circles, pressing down on the hood of it, pinching it between two fingers, rolling it until you cried and fucked back on him. It was swollen and sensitive, edged while watching your first major picture was unexpected but this… holy fuck, this was worth it.

Even more so when he grabbed a handful of your hair to make you look at him rail you in the bathroom mirror.

"I want you to cum. I want you to look at me as you do it, I need to know--"

"It's for you, König I swear. Just give it to me a little harder. Just like that!"

He slapped your ass and held onto your hips until you couldn't take it anymore, the build up was too much, the little glances here and there, the lingering touches, the easiness - the trust.

You came suddenly with a shudder, your legs jerking as he was close to follow after you, spilling his cum, rope after rope. Warmth filled your entire body and even though you'd just climaxed with your co-star, your previous work could be heard through the walls.

You both locked eyes and laughed in the mirror.

Tagging: @nexthyperfix @konig-breedme @the-con-she-called-conscience @littlelovebug98 @mafer383 @synnersaint

#könig #könig x reader #konig x you #konig x reader #pornstar!au #konig x female reader #konig imagine #konig fic #konig fanfiction #konig fan fic #cod imagine #cod fic #cod fanfic #it's possible I have a pt. 2 in mind #my works #my work #my fic #my fic writing

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