#that way it won’t hurt as much when he leaves?

[machveil]

I’m kinda obsessed with your guard dog Simon x puppy reader😭how does Simon punish reader when he thinks she’s being naughty or not listening to his orders?? 😩

you know what, I’m also obsessed with GuardDog!Simon Riley x Puppy!Reader low-key high-key

CW: slight oral fixation, suggestive

GuardDog!Simon Riley doesn’t dish out punishments too often, he knows puppies get excited sometimes, wander off without batting an eye. when you leave his side he knows, cold gaze always following you, he waits for a moment before tailing after you. he likes to see if you’ll notice that you’ve walked away from him, and when you do he likes seeing you scramble back to his side. if you keep wandering away from him, on purpose or by accident, Simon will slip his arm around your neck. beefy bicep and strong forearm acting like a collar, making sure you stay with him

GuardDog!Simon Riley won’t do anything to embarrass you in public, but he isn’t afraid to lightly reprimand you. if you tease him for too long, a little too much, his chest will rumble - a deep, gravelly warning hum to knock it off. Simon doesn’t give you orders often, he’s more than pleased to follow your commands, but when you ignore his grumbled ‘quit it’? maybe, he thinks, it’s because his little puppy needs attention. he hasn’t been neglecting you, has he? surely not, he’s been by your side this entire trip, he’s kept you tucked against his side as you walked. but giving you a little attention wouldn’t hurt

GuardDog!Simon Riley who leads you to a quiet corner of the mall you’re in - a neglected hallway with benches and a humming vending machine. he’ll sit with his back to the hallway entrance, blocking the view of the outside world from you. just you and your mutt. it’s not a real punishment, he wouldn’t do that to you in the open, but this is good enough for now. “Open.”, voice low, he hums when you pout, seemingly trying to play indifferent. he likes the way your shoulders slope when he gently grabs your chin, thumb resting on your lip, “Open, pup?”. a gentler tone, one that has you breathing a little slower, opening your mouth for him slightly

a little attention, something to get your act together. GuardDog!Simon Riley who pushes his index and middle finger into your mouth, lets you dumbly suck on them while he pets your hair. easy to please, it always makes his heart squeeze when your eyelids droop, lashes fluttering as you melt. he doesn’t care if drool and spit run down his hand, Simon just watches over you - like a good dog should. his pretty little puppy, whining when Simon mumbles ‘release’. but you’re finally listening to him again, pulling off his fingers with spit slick lips. it always works in his favor, having you relaxed and little dumb. it makes it easier for him to keep you by his side, or walking in front of him to hide the tent in his pants

CW: Fem!Reader, Simon being a little condescending, ‘pup’ and ‘good girl’, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial

GuardDog!Simon Riley who gets you into bed when you get home. he doesn’t want to hurt his precious little pup, spanking you wouldn’t feel right to him. no, Simon bends you over his lap for a different reason. “Can’t protect you if ya keep runnin’ off.”, voice low and raspy, he smoothes his hand over your plush ass, tutting when you squirm. just a little training, something to get you to behave next time you go out with Simon. spitting on his fingers, he hums, “Good pups listen, yeah?”. his free hand is running through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as his middle finger dips into your cunt

he’s not being mean, he’s just trying to help you! good girls who listen get to come. he shushes you when you whine and moan a little too loud, presses your face against his sheets as he bullies his index finger into your heat, “I know, feels so good.”. it makes your brain melt, eyes screw shut - how softly he pets your hair and murmurs to you, how his fingers blur a bit from how fast he’s pumping into you. on the verge of sweet bliss when he pulls his hand away, sends you spiraling with a cry, “No.”. a low, rumbled command. he knows you’re smart, can do a trick for him, “Count.”

every time he denies you, you sob out another number - starting over when you lose track. thighs a slick mess as he abuses your poor cunt, stopping short of you orgasm for the umpteenth time, “Good, bein’ so pretty f’me. How many was tha’, pup?”. and when you finally blubber out ‘ten’ - even though that’s not a completely accurate count after hours of messing up - he feels pride warm his chest. “Good girl, can my dumb puppy beg?”, he can’t help the way his cock chubs up, achingly hard when you plead with him. a good guard dog makes sure you’re safe and sound, so Simon holds you close as he fucks his fingers into you, thumbing at your clit as you’re finally allowed release, “Don’t go runnin’ off again, got it?”

[hanafubukki]

A thought came to me today, most of the time we think, “How did Lilia react to Silver’s sleeping spells” especially in the beginning when it started to show.

But rarely do we question how Malleus reacted? 🤔

We see Sebek meeting Silver during one of his sleep spells (though at the time he probably didn’t know what it was and was informed about it later)

Lilia knows about it through his UM but from what we saw when Malleus first meets Silver, he didn’t inform Mal at the time. He just threw him and ran away. Even later we don’t see Lilia mentioning it to Mal.

So can you imagine?

Malleus is taking care of Baby Silver one day and he…just won’t wake up??

Why?? Why won’t he wake up?? It’s been hours?? Surely, he’s hungry?

And he waits and waits, but he still doesn’t wake.

Malleus feeling panic setting in.

The books state babies sleep for hours but not this long. They eat, they cry, they play- so what is going on with Silver?

Was it him? Did he do something? Did he hurt him somehow??

Was he the monster as everyone said? Should he have stayed away? He never was good with fragile things.

Can you imagine Silver waking up then? The relief Malleus felt? How he could have held him that much tighter. He’s alive.

Or what if Lilia arrives and sees Malleus in this state? Frantic and panicking. Malleus who’s worried that not only had he hurt Silver but he also made Lilia sad.

Lilia who then has to explain to Malleus about the sleeping curse. How, maybe deep down, he’s happy to see these two care about each other so.

To see Malleus show some emotion over someone else for once (that’s not him or his grandmother) and over a human baby nonetheless. How peace between faes and humans are possible and it’s right in front of him with these two boys.

Thinking about Malleus and how this is probably the second time he felt helpless and useless when it came to his powers. He can’t help them. All this power and he can’t help those he cares about.

[the first time he felt helpless?? When he couldn’t stop Lilia from leaving. Whether that be him, while he was in an egg or when he’s older and wants Lilia to stay but he couldn’t. Lilia wasn’t allowed.]

Malleus who learned to reign in his emotions and who keeps in these feelings of despair. The least he can do is not add onto Lilia’s worries, while he also searched for a way to break the spell.

But he can’t find an answer no matter how hard he looks and tries. He can’t even help them. Useless.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty five

authors note: this chapter is emotionally heavy and taxing. please be mindful of your mental ability to handle heavy content.

cw/tw: angst, discussion of child abuse, and direct accounts of child abuse from said child.

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

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 10k

Giving Roman his space while also being worried sick about him is the last thing Solana was expecting to experience this week, but it’s exactly where she’s got.

They didn’t leave on the best of terms. It wasn’t hostile, not nasty, and no one was angry. There was just this lingering tension. Some level of animosity and frustration on her part, because he refused to listen to her.

Because he refused to stay.

And that irksome guilt on his part. Solana could see it smoldering every time he looked at her, looked at her face, at the bruise. So much so that Solana went and put makeup on in the hopes that camouflaging it could ebb away some of the undeserved guilt. A fruitless effort because he still packed his bag, still gave her that almost reluctant kiss, still murmured an almost sad ‘I love you’ (that she did not reciprocate), and walked out the door.

He still left her. 

It’s childish to a certain extent. Her behavior during his departure. Solana knows and recognizes this. But, it stems deep down from a deep place of concern. She’s worried sick about him, hates that he hates himself for an accident. 

There’s not a single part of her that believes that man would ever lift his hand to her. That’s not her Roman.

What happened truly was an accident. She just wishes she could get him to see that.

She’s hopeful the item she snuck in his bag will help. 

Even if just a little.

The communication between them in the time since he’s been gone is almost non-existent. He texted her when he arrived in Italy and when he made it to the hotel. For that, she was grateful, but she just couldn’t find it in her to offer a written response, settling for hearting his messages. Again, childish. And Solana can recognize that her behavior also stems from just being frustrated with him, angry with him for not staying and going with her plan.

For going so far away to the point that she can’t help him. She just wants to be there for and support him, and all he can seem to do is….is push her away.

And that hurts.

Deeply. 

Especially when he’s been so good in trying and succeeding in supporting her in all of her mess. All she wants to do is return the favor, but he won’t let her. 

And that’s when the anger sets in. Such an unfamiliar experience. 

She’s not an angry person. But, she certainly feels like one.

It’s why she has the thought—or maybe hope—that training will be a good outlet for her to let off some of this uncharacteristic anger. 

If only it happened that way.

Or maybe Solana was too naive. Stupid, possibly, to think she could just walk into training like nothing happened, like the proof of something happening isn’t literally written all over her face in black and blue.

Solana has barely stepped into the training space when the smiles on both Bayley and Naomi’s faces collapse the minute they lay eyes on her.

“Oh my god, Solana!” They rush over, Solana starting to wish she’d taken the time out to use makeup to conceal the bruise. As much as she could. The pigmentation is deep, and even with the heavy application, it was still visible when she tried to hide it for Roman’s sake. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Solana looks away, already regretting her decision to come here in the first place. “I’m fine.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re fine?” Bayley’s eyes are wide, her face painted in disbelief. “Solana, your face is all bruised up.”

An exaggeration. It’s focused on one side of her face, but given the nastiness of its appearance, Solana can slightly understand the description. 

“Solana, what the hell happened?” Naomi repeats her question, this time her lips formed into a line before she asks, “who hit you?” Solana closes her eyes and shakes her head. This is the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now, especially with the nausea that’s starting to build. 

This morning sickness is clearly about to kick her ass with this pregnancy. 

“Solana….” Bayley cuts in, and almost instantly, Solana knows she’s not about to like whatever is said. “Did Roman hit you?”

At that, Solana’s attention is immediately focused back on Bayley. She was absolutely correct in that she doesn’t like the question. At all. 

She can barely find the words to respond to such a thing. “What?”

Naomi looks past her, motioning someone over by them. “Jimmy! Come here.”

Shit. 

And just like that, the situation is progressing from bad to worse. Yeah….she definitely wishes she’d just stayed home. 

“Whassup?” Jimmy’s jovial voice sounds from behind her, Solana barely able to match his smile before, just like Bayley and Naomi, it’s dropped the second he lays eyes on her. On the bruise. “What the hell?” 

“Jimmy, pl—”

“Solana….” Another indication more anger is about to be stirred up on her part. An accurate expectation given the next question to leave his mouth. “Did Roman hit you?” The second it leaves his mouth, she’s filled with anger, but there’s a matching level of that emotion on his end as well. He shakes his head, voice dead serious, more than she’s ever heard from him since their initial meeting months prior. “The truth, Solana. If that son of a bitch, hit you, I wanna know. I’ll handle it.”

They mean well. She knows they mean well, but it’s a combination of all the things. Of what happened with Roman. Roman leaving. A possible pregnancy. A pregnancy she’s hiding because she can’t tell her husband just yet.

It’s just too much.

“Would you all just shut up?” She snaps, voice raised, several sets of eyes on her with varying levels of bewilderment. “I said he didn’t do it, and the fact that you all even think he could ever be capable of that is disgusting.”

Because it is. Because they should know him better than that. He’s a lot of things, but that has never been one of them.

And the fact that they’re accusing him of such is infuriating to her. 

Shaking her head, she turns on her heel to leave. “I’m out of here.”

“Solana, wait—”

But, she does nothing of the sort, just keeps walking away, never once looking back.

————

Regrets are a tricky thing. Varying in size and impact. Never a major issue for Roman.

Not until two days prior.

Two days prior where demons from his past submerged, resulting and causing him to do the unthinkable.

On a basic level, he knows it was an accident. Knows that he would never intentionally do anything to ever hurt his wife. Especially in that way. But, the key word is intentionally, because regardless of what he intended, she was hurt.

She was hurt because of him. By his hands. And, that’s something Roman can’t seem to make peace with. Every time he thinks of texting her, of even trying to call her, he’s hit with a flash of her pretty, innocent face marred with that hideous bruise.

A bruise he caused her to have.

And he just as quickly puts his phone away.

He instead opts for something different, something he hasn’t dared to touch since spotting it when emptying his luggage and hanging up some clothes.

Roman walks over to the nightstand where the purple journal with tattered edges and  random stickers plastered has sat untouched. Until now.

Solana’s journal.

It’s aged, most likely one from when she was still a child, and he hasn’t the slightest clue when she placed it in his bag, but the minute he opens it and sees a pink post it with her handwriting on it, his stomach twists in a way it’s only done in the past few months after years of dormancy.

It’s a simple, short but powerful message.

You could never be them.

-Solana

Roman closes his eyes. Right away, he knows he’s in for a heavy, brutal insight into the hell she experienced for so many years. A part of him doesn’t want to. Doesn’t feel fully capable or even worthy of reading her vulnerable words. Her journals are a private thing he would never want to invade. However, she placed it in his bag for a reason. She wants him to read it, some of it, at least. 

The least he can give her……is that.

Bracing himself as best he can for what he’s about to read, Roman turns to the first entry.

Dear Mami,

I try really hard not to make dad upset, but it’s hard. He’s always angry and yelling at me. 

I know you always told me to stay out of his way, but it’s hard, mama. He makes me do all the cleaning and cooking like he made you. Sometimes, he doesn’t let me eat. 

I wish you were here.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

Yesterday was really scary. Dad yelled at me for almost an hour and was throwing things. He hit me, too. I tried not to cry.

I’m trying to be strong like you, but it’s hard.

I’m not like you, mami. I’m not strong, and I don’t know how to be.

I miss you,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I keep looking for Hummingbirds. I know you said they don’t fly here, but I keep hoping I’ll see just one. I just want to see you again, mama. I miss you so much.

I wish they never took you from me.

I don’t have anybody anymore. 

I’m all alone.

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t know what I did, but I made dad really mad. He just kept hitting me and hitting me. Then Wes started hitting me too. It was hard for me to get the blood to stop, but I did exactly what you taught me, and it worked.

My body hurts really bad, but I’m scared to leave my room cause I might see dad.

I think I’m gonna sleep in the closet tonight.

Love,

Sol

————

Mami,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you. 

Something….something really bad happened to me, mama. 

The detective lady said it wasn’t my fault, but it was. I was too weak. I’m not strong like you.

I’m sorry I let you down.

I hope you still love me.

Solana

————

It’s that last entry that Roman has to stop at. He can handle a lot. Has handled a lot, but this…..this he can’t.

He always knew Solana went through hell in that house, both from speculation as well as confirmation from her. But, to read her words in real time, to see with his own eyes the extent of that hell.

A child. She was a fucking child.

No one deserves what she went through.

No one. 

And while he understands her intentions, maybe hope, she had with him reading her entries being enough to trigger more self-forgiveness. Thought that him gaining better insight into her abuse would lessen his feelings of guilt towards his actions…..that’s not entirely the outcome.

Maybe to some extent.

But, it’s hard to feel any bit better knowing he’s unintentionally contributed to her massive pile of traumatic experiences. 

Ashamed. Roman feels ashamed. A new, heavy ass experience that has him partially weighed down, even more so now knowing exactly some of the thoughts and sentiments Solana experienced while enduring years worth of torture. 

Eyes shut, he’s tempted to grab his phone and just text her, check in on her. Because while he hates what he did, he also hates how they left off.

How he left her. 

Because she didn’t want him to leave. Because she practically begged him to stay, but he left regardless, because he didn’t feel right being and staying around her after what happened. 

Didn’t feel like she was safe around him.

The way he still feels now. 

Redirecting himself, Roman instead swaps the journal for his phone, choosing to respond to messages from Dwayne and Matteo. Focusing on the business purpose of his trip. He can at least acknowledge that he’s done a decent job completely immersing himself in the role of Capo. A necessity given the purpose of this whole trip.

Well, the original purpose. 

Interactions with members of the Administration thus far have irked him almost as much as interactions with the Elders. Their judgmental expressions of his long hair—that he absolutely wears down just to piss them off—and tattoos—also hidden—do nothing to hide the racist reasons they truly despise him. 

It’s a nice distraction, knowing how much he gets under their skin, knowing that it kills them that he’s as intelligent and successful and fucking good as he is, hence why they can’t find a legitimate way to dethrone him. 

The memory of him putting a babbo down brings a small smirk to his face. A small slice of amusement tucked in between everything else heavy and egregious. It’s short lived, however. Because it’s not pertinent right now. 

No, Roman has other matters to tend to, much more important ones that he’s gone back and forth with himself on for days, ultimately deciding to bite the bullet.

Even with having this newfound piece of information via Solana’s journals. 

Roman moves over to the table and opens up his laptop, a quick glance at the clock on the wall alerting him that it’s time. 

Logging in and getting set up take less than a minute, only for her to not be on, that annoying ass “Your clinician will start the appointment shortly” welcome message taunting him.

And just like that, Roman is instantly annoyed.

Does punctuality mean fucking nothing?

He’s even more irritated when the screen lights up a couple minutes later revealing his wife’s therapist. “You’re late.”

Gail looks like she wants to roll her eyes but ultimately decides not to. A wise decision. “I usually don’t get into the office until—”

“I don’t care.” He honestly, truly doesn’t. There’s a bit of hesitation as he asks, “how is she doing?”

Roman watches her shift in her seat, followed by movement that indicates she’s moving around some items on her desk. “Good. I’m pleased with her progress and dedication to continuing treatment.”

That’s relieving to hear. Much more than he’s willing to let on. Especially after what he just finished reading. “Did she attend yesterday?” He already knows the answer, having stayed on top of Nia via probably annoying, frequent texts reminding her of all the important things. Times of Solana’s appointments. Location of said appointments. Importance of making sure Nia puts Solana’s medication back exactly where he keeps it.

All of the things.

“She did.” He sees it, the unspoken question in her voice. And, he’s prepared to tell her to just ask the shit, letting him decide if he wants to answer it or not. But, she’s two steps ahead of him. “Mr. Reigns, this call wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the bruise she tried to hide with makeup, now would it?”

Fuck.

Roman doesn’t care about her question or the almost implication in said question. What he cares about is the fact that his wife is having to cake her face in makeup to hide the result of his lack of self0control. Is having to lie about how she acquired said bruise. 

It’s……crushing. Truly. 

Reminds him of her haunting words written as a child.

Similar words probably being penned in her most recent journal as a result of his actions. 

His arrogance is definitely knocked down a peg, as he asks in a low voice, “what did she tell you?”

Gail sits back in her chair, answering evenly. “Accident while training.”

It’s believable. Roman will give Solana that, but he’s not surprised. She probably spent years having to explain away bruises as a result of her despicable family. 

It’s difficult to not group himself in that same category, however. 

No matter what Solana says. 

“You said…..you said she’s codependent on me.” Roman’s gaze is focused on the cherry wood table in his hotel room and not on the woman watching him through the screen. It’s…..it’s easier that way. “How attached is she to me?”

Gail’s eyes narrow as she jumps straight to the point. “Roman, what exactly are you asking me?”

Nothing he ever anticipated having to ask. 

Or even consider.

It’s difficult for him to hide the heaviness in said answer. “What do you think it would do to her mentally if we weren’t together anymore?”

————

Here in the night

I see the sun

Here in the dark

Our two hearts are one

Solana grabs her phone and pauses the music, realizing it’s been a while since she took a break.

Sitting in her home library, surrounded by boxes, boxes filled with her books and journals finally transported from her work library has been the activity to occupy her racing mind for the past two hours.

It’s been a nice distraction. That and work itself the past few days. Getting back into her usual routine has been helpful, and coming back to a barrage of letters, cards, drawings, and other heartwarming gifts from the kids really was the highlight of her return. 

She’s never felt so loved than in the moment where they practically bum rushed her with hugs or when Mrs. Jensen handed over all of their “get well soon” gifts they’d brought in while she was away. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes, a welcomed change given those tears came from pleasant emotions.

Not like the ones she’s been crying ever since Roman left a couple days ago. She still hasn’t spoken to him. Not really. Not outside of occasional almost awkward check-in texts that she replies to with just as much awkwardness, if not just an emoji reaction. 

It’s miserable and stupid. She wants to talk to him. Wants to hear his voice, but she’s also trying to be respectful. Then there’s the lingering anger and frustration toward him for leaving, even if it’s subsided mostly into just sadness.

And loneliness. 

She misses him.

Misses falling asleep next to and waking up to him, something she was deprived of when she was away at treatment. But now, she’s right back in the same space. 

And even this, finally being able to start setting up her library/art room he thoughtfully created for her, is a bittersweet thing. She always imagined this being something they would do. Her handing journals and books to Roman for him to place up on the shelves that she cannot reach. His arms around her, frequently distracting her with dirty whispers of promised pleasure later that evening. Her sitting on his lap as she feeds him whatever she decided to make for lunch as they took a break.

It was just supposed to be different from this. 

Solana’s hand falls to her stomach. 

It was all supposed to be different from this. 

Tears pooling once again, she shakes her head, refusing to spiral yet again. She instead grabs her phone and once again ignores the unread texts from a variety of people. Naomi. Bayley. Even Melina and them.

Their messages are warranted given the abrupt almost cold text she sent to their group telling them the girls trip was off and to be postponed for a later date and time.

A part of her feels bad, but she’s mostly relieved. 

She just….she just needs space.

Doesn’t feel like talking.

If it’s not Roman, she’s not interested.

Her husband is the only person she wants to interact with, but she can't. Thus, her self-imposed isolation. 

He’s not an option currently, so until then, she just wants to be alone.

Solana is interrupted by her phone dinging, and the way she jumps with the hope that it’s maybe Roman is squashed the minute she realizes it’s not his notification sound and simply a calendar reminder. 

Appt w/ Dr. Michaels @ 2pm

Solana gasps and curses to herself.

She’d completely forgotten about scheduling that, most likely because she hates the fact that she’s even doing it.

She quickly hits dismiss on the alarm and stands up, sliding the phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts. The space around her is still a mess, some boxes partially open, others still taped shut. This is a project that’s clearly going to need to be completed in phases.  

Thus, she grabs a couple of unorganized journals scattered on the floor and drops them into a box, just to get them out the way, missing how a faded letter with her name written across in neat handwriting slips out one of the books and lays untouched and unseen on the floor. 

Out of the library and into the rest of the house, Solana has little difficulty finding Nia. Her husband's cousin who he somehow talked into, most likely forced, to stay with her has spent most of her time in her room, the gym, or the living room. 

And the latter of which is where Solana finds her, but not only her. Bautista is present, standing near the opposite end of the sofa where Nia sits.

It’s not surprising, however, given his almost “promotion” to guarding her at home, alternating with Solo for some outside outings as well. His service while she was away as well as his friendly disposition and Solana being comfortable with him securing this new arrangement.

Solana nervously clears her throat. “Nia?”

The other woman sighs. Loudly. “What?”

And just like that, the nerves are starting to set in. Nia isn’t going to like this. “I forgot I scheduled a doctor’s appointment today.”

Nia’s groan is also loud as she pauses the show and turns to Solana with a scowl. “Seriously? Can’t you like reschedule it or something?”

Not really. “No. I—I need to go.”

“Are you dying?”

Solana hesitates for a second. “Umm, no, but—”

“Then you don’t need to go,” she says it in the cheeriest voice, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. Standing up, Nia briefly looks over at a quiet Bautista then back at Solana. “I’m going to take a nap.”

Solana frowns. Does Nia not have other plans then? Because, Solana could understand if her appointment interfered with pre-existing obligations, but if there are none….what’s the issue?

Once it’s just the two of them, Bautista clears his throat. “If…..if I may?”

Solana looks over at him, managing a small smile. “Of course.” It doesn’t matter how many times she tells this man he doesn’t have to behave so reserved around her, he remains firm with his professionalism and manners. 

Regardless, the respect is deeply appreciated.

He walks over to her, keeping a respectful distance but still close enough for her to hear his calm, leveled voice. “Roman Reigns is our Tribal Chief. He sits at the Head of the Table. We all acknowledge him just like we all answer to him.” His tone takes a firmer, almost convictive nature. “You are Solana Reigns. The wife of the Tribal Chief, meaning you sit directly next to him at that table. You only answer to him. No one else.”

Silence.

There’s a heavy but powerful silence that follows his words. A silence that’s filled with thinking and recognition. Solana has always known, never been ignorant to the power her husband holds. All that comes with his status and position. But, it’s not until this moment, not until Bautista frames it that way, that she fully recognizes just how much of that, if not all of it, carries over to his wife.

She is the wife of the Tribal Chief.

And that means something. 

Nodding from a newfound sense of confidence and credence, Solana offers a heartfelt, “thank you, Bautista.” Lifting her chin, she informs, “we’ll be leaving shortly.”

There’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Yes ma’am.”

Pleased and determined, Solana turns on her heel and doesn’t waver as she makes her way up the stairs and down the hall until she’s standing before Nia’s door. 

She doesn’t even bother with knocking.

Opening the door, Solana finds Nia laying in bed. She jumps up and removes her sleep mask, irritation all over her face. “What the he—”

“I said I have an appointment.” Solana has never felt more assured than she does at this moment, not a bit of her reluctant as she orders, “be ready in half an hour.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and walks out without another word.

It’s not needed.

She said what she said.

————

Despite an excellent, earlier display of assertiveness, to say Solana feels good about her decision, as a whole, would be a lie, because she doesn’t. Going behind Roman’s back is what she feels like she’s doing, and that is an awful feeling. But, she’s in this tricky situation where she doesn’t want to tell him about the pregnancy if there is in fact no pregnancy. And if she is pregnant, she doesn’t want to tell him via a text or phone call because that feels too impersonal. And, she also just doesn’t want to tell him, period, because he’s already beating himself up over what happened and him knowing that she is pregnant could only make it worse.

And yes, she could just take a home test, but at this point, she needs to know with absolute certainty. A home test can’t do that for her.

But, a blood test can.

Thus, where she currently sits: in the lobby of the private clinic where her husband’s doctor operates out of. Because she needs a medical professional, but she doesn’t know who to go to. Doesn’t know how this is supposed to work. She just knows that if she is pregnant, it’s important that it doesn’t get out for a lot of reasons.

Especially since she has to be the one to tell her husband.

Just when the time is right. 

“Why exactly are we here again?” Nia’s bored voice cuts her from her thoughts, Solana looking up from the thread she has opened. The one between her and Roman. “It’s probably just allergies.”

As part of doing her best to hide her pregnancy, Solana wisely made up an excuse of her throat feeling weird and a headache to explain to Nia and Bautista this otherwise random appointment. So far, it seems to be working. “Maybe, but I just want to make sure. You know Roman had the flu not too long ago.”

Nia rolls her eyes and wisely says nothing else, focusing back on the book in her hand. It’s not missed upon Solana how her gaze briefly darts to Bautista.

She’s not sure what exactly is going on there, but Solana could get behind it. In a strange sort of way, they just make sense to her. 

He could maybe help Nia level out the way Solana tends to help Roman with his temper.

“Mrs. Reigns?” 

Solana looks up to see the nurse standing by the door. She turns to Nia and Bautista. “I’ll be back.”

“You sure you don’t need us to wait in the hall or something?” His question is valid as is the concern on his handsome face, but Solana can’t risk them somehow overhearing the truth behind this appointment. 

“No, I’ll be fine.” She manages a small smile that probably doesn’t reach her eyes, turning on her heel to follow the nurse to the back. 

Solana is most definitely experiencing heightened anxiety that only intensifies when she spots Dr. Michaels coming from the other end of the hall. 

He’s not alone, however. A tall man, about the same height as the doctor. Smooth chocolate skin with a decent build for a man who looks to be in his fifties is beside him, focused on whatever Dr. Michaels is saying to him. 

“......firefighter, doctor, what’s next? Police officer.” She overhears her husband’s doctor who wears a teasing smile. “You’re just crossing them all off the list, ain’t you?” A friendly set of blue eyes settle on her when the gap between both is closed. “Well, what a sur—”

“Solana……”

Solana finds herself frowning, her attention directed to the man who she’s never seen before this very moment but who somehow knows her name and is staring directly at her. It’s not a predatory stare or even something inappropriate. It’s almost…..sad.

He’s looking at her like he’s just seen a ghost.

Dr. Michaels is also looking at the man next to him but with a different kind of expression. One that screams, you can’t just address the Tribal Chief’s wife so informally like that. “Mrs. Reigns, I apologize for the wait.” 

Solana shakes her head, still unsure why this stranger keeps staring at her. “It’s okay.” She hugs herself, looking past him to see if she can spot whatever door is open that could be the room they’ll be in. “Are you ready or…..”

“Of course.” He turns to the man beside him, offering a handshake. “Good to have you on the team, Dr. Adams.” 

Dr. Adams.

Yeah, not familiar at all. 

This Dr. Adams finally removes his gaze from her to accept Dr. Michaels handshake, only nodding as he gives her one last, almost regretful look and carefully moves past her.

Solana frowns in the wake of his absence. What was that?

Dr. Michaels apologizes again. “Sorry about that. Come with me.” Wordlessly, she follows him, moving to sit on the patient bed, anxiety growing once again as he closes the door. “Now, I hear you’re having some—”

“You can’t tell Roman I was here.”

It’s certainly not what she planned to say. Not yet, anyway. But, it’s exactly what comes out, Solana closing her eyes and going to correct herself. “I mean…..I’m gonna tell him myself. I just….I just need time.”

Time and a plan. Along with many other things she doesn’t need to tell the man before her.

His jovial disposition has shifted into something almost nervous and uncomfortable. “Solana, what’s going on here?”

She takes a breath, head tilted back, giving herself one final boost of encouragement before answering. “I need…..I need a pregnancy test.”

The release of what she’s been holding in for the past couple weeks is both terrifying and relieving. She hates that the first person she’s uttering the words to, even if just a thought of pregnancy, isn’t her husband. But, she also knows that she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even more, she needs to know for certain, and Dr. Michaels is the only one who can provide her with that answer.

He looks only slightly less confused. “I see…..” Shifting the tablet under his arm to in front of him, he speculates, “and Roman doesn’t know that you might be…..”

“No,” she answers, voice small. “I’m—I’m going to tell him, but I want to know for sure first.” Again, only a part of a much bigger, complicated story. 

“Well, I can absolutely do a blood test, but I’m general medicine, Solana. I’m not an—”

“OB-GYN. I know. I just…..I didn’t know who else to go to. You’re Roman’s doctor, so he obviously trusts you.” Enough to manage his health, at least. “And I don’t know if there’s a specific doctor the Bloodline uses—”

“There is,” he supplies with a small smile. “I’ll make sure to give you her info before you leave. Even if….” He trails off, clearly not wanting to state what Solana would be shocked to find out is a false alarm.

She feels pregnant. 

He clears his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, but have you told anyone e—”

“No.” It’s an easy, truthful answer. “I haven’t said a word to anyone, and I won’t. Not until I find out if I am and definitely not until I tell Roman.”

He nods, clearly agreeing with this plan. “I will say, the big guy might order that this pregnancy stays just between you and your care team. And I guess me now,” he ends with a chuckle. “You’re the Tribal Chief’s wife who might be carrying his first official heir. That target over your head just got a hell of a lot bigger.” It’s weird, but his words don’t come across as fearmongering or even a scare tactic. Just a genuine warning of what’s to come. “But, that’ll be discussed between—”

“How is he?” It’s a breathless almost thing that falls out of her mouth. An unintended question but one she finds herself asking, nonetheless. “Roman, I mean, like….his health.”

Because on top of worrying about his mental state, being in front of his doctor has her curious about the physical side of things. 

“You’re a smart young lady, Solana.” Dr. Michaels starts, voice tentative almost. “You know how HIPAA works…..”

She closes her eyes. “I’m not asking you as a patient’s wife. I’m–” She takes a deep breath, voice firm and solid. “I’m asking you as the Tribal Chief’s wife.”

Bautista’s words still playing in the back of her head, Solana has never really considered what role she plays as Roman’s wife. Never thought to pull that card, because it’s almost out of character. She’s always been more inclined to shy away from status than to use it to her benefit. But, this is different. This is about Roman, and there isn’t much she wouldn't do to help him or even to know if and what he needs help with. 

And he’s been mum regarding his blood pressure as of late, so her curiosity is only naturally piqued. 

There’s obvious hesitation, but he relents, partially to her surprise. “He’s doing alright. Numbers look decent. Seems that he’s finally recognizing how serious this could be if he doesn’t do what he needs to do to keep from progressing to another stage again.”

“Wait. What?” Solana frowns. “Stage? What….what are you talking about?” A brief look of panic flashes in his blue eyes, alerting Solana that something is very much not right. “What stage?”

“Fuck…..” He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He didn’t tell you….”

“Tell me what?” Solana presses, her anxiety almost through the roof  “I’m not—I’m not gonna ask again.”

Dr. Michaels sighs with defeat. “Look, the last time Roman was here, his numbers were bad. Like, he jumped from prehypertension to stage one actual hypertension bad. I had to up his dosage and increase his follow up appointments as well as bloodwork check-ins.” Solana’s heart swells and her stomach jumps, and Dr. Michaels clearly sees how devastated this news has her, thus him adding, “but, like I said, he’s been on top of it and is looking good…..”

It’s hard for her to focus on that ending bit when all she can think about is one thing.

Lie.

Roman lied to her. 

She asked him. She fucking asked him how his appointment went, how his blood pressure was doing, if he was okay. And, he lied. He lied to her face. He told her he was fine, and he wasn’t.

He still isn’t. 

And this time, instead of lying, he’s just left.

Ran away. 

Like he always does. 

“Solana…..”

It’s the almost gentle way her name is said that alerts her to the fact that she’s crying, tears spilling down her face as she clutches her stomach. 

“Can I just have the test, please?” Because that’s all she wants and needs at this point. She just needs to know for certain, and she needs to get the hell out of here. 

She just needs to get away from it all.

————

Solana has never considered herself an irrational person. Most definitely not impulsive. Even with both of her suicide attempts, they may have been impulsive in the moment, but they didn’t indicate a truly impulsive personality or even disposition. 

But, that hasn’t been the case for the past three days.

No, it hasn’t been the case, because Solana’s current situation is the direct result of impulsivity.

She sits in her bedroom, Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed on the floor beside her. Bautista and Nia are somewhere in the house that is not her main home, but the house purchased by her husband for her.

She’s in Isla Mujeres.

And has been for three days now.

Coming home from the shocking appointment, Solana found herself packing a small bag for herself, one for Dulce, and telling both Nia and Bautista to get ready because they were flying out that night. 

Her command left no room for argument, and that’s exactly what occurred, hence how Solana ended up where she is.

It’s been a true form of escape.

Feeling overwhelmed with all of it, Solana knew she needed to just not be around any of it.

And this place has served as a site of refuge, providing her with some level of tranquility that’s been escaping her back home.

Again, her random text to the group chat regarding her “going away” for a couple of days was met with another round of bombarding messages and calls. And Solana isn’t stupid, she knows and can understand her friends being concerned about her.

But, it’s not like she’s entirely alone. She has two people who are making sure she’s safe despite her perhaps strange behavior, and that’s all that matters.

Because she just needs space.

And in an unexpected turn of events, Roman has been added to that list.

He lied. He lied to her. Lied to her about something so important, something regarding his health, of all things. Was dishonest with her.

Again.

It’s becoming a bit of a theme, and she’s not naive. She can somewhat understand why he didn’t tell her. At first. Because she was in the midst of treatment.

But, she’s home now. She’s been home. Why would he not come clean?

Tears burn her eyes. It’s hard to balance understanding with feeling betrayed, because this isn’t the first time her husband hasn’t been honest with her.

And if she’s being honest with herself, this “reason” for the dishonesty being because he’s trying to protect her is…..it’s getting old.

She’s just so frustrated with him. 

So much of this could be avoided if he would just talk to her, and she’s running out of different ways to help him understand as such. 

Wiping at her eyes, Solana grabs a journal off the nightstand. Something she’s discussed with Gail in therapy as of late is the importance of never forgetting where she came from, how far she’s come. Remembering that she’s moving in the right direction.

It’s a strange thing, too. 

On one hand, reading journals from when she was a child and teenager could and maybe should be triggering. And it is. To a certain extent.

But, Solana is proud to say that she can revisit these painful memories and not be drawn back into those dark emotions but rather recognize that was how she used to feel. Where she used to be. 

Who she used to be.

But, not anymore.

Never again.

Solana leans back against the headboard and opens the journal, unsure what she’s about to read but ready regardless.

Dear Mami,

I miss you so much. I’m so so sorry for everything. I’m so sad now that you’re gone. I wish you were here. Daddy is so mean to me. Wes now too. He hates me because it’s my fault you’re dead. 

I’m so sorry. 

Love,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

Everything is so much badder now. Daddy is angry at me all the time. Wes too. They call me names. They hurt me, mommy. 

I wish I could be with you.

Yours,

Sol

————

Dear Mami, 

I’m sorry I haven’t written you lately. Daddy got mad at me for spilling some juice, and he broke my arm, so I couldn’t write.

I just got the cast off this morning. 

It still hurts a lot, but at least I can write you.

I got all A’s this quarter, mami! I’m trying to make you proud.

Hope you’ve forgiven me.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I feel so sad. Nothing makes me happy anymore. I try to think of you. Remember the times we would draw and sing and cook together. But, it’s not working anymore.

Mommy, I have times where I feel like I can’t breathe cause I feel so sad.

And sometimes when I just don’t want to breathe anymore at all.

Solana

————

Dear Mami,

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Solana

————

Mom,

It was a rough day. I had those thoughts again. I was able to fight them, but it’s so hard. 

I try to think about how you always told me to never stop dreaming. Never stop believing that life is a gift. I try, but it’s hard. 

I try to dream that not all men are like dad and Wes. That not every man in my life will hurt me. That maybe……just maybe I can fall in love someday. Find and marry someone who’s actually nice to me, who treats me with kindness, who loves me.

Kind of like my prince charming.

Do you think I could ever have a happily ever after?

Love,

Sol

Reading the entries definitely stirs up emotions, but it’s the last letter, however, that has her tears subsiding and the weight on her chest decreasing. A complete shift away from the heavy, depressing entries from such dark times in her life. 

A man unlike her dad and brother. 

Roman.

A man who would never hurt her like her dad and brother. 

Roman

A man she could love and marry. Someone who treats her with kindness and loves her. 

Roman 

Solana snaps the journal shut and cries a little harder, feels a little deeper, the realization hitting her like a stack of bricks over the head.

Roman isn’t perfect. He may seem like it sometimes, but he isn’t. He’s just a man. A human being like any other human being. He has his faults, the same way she has hers. He has his demons, just like she has hers.

But one thing that’s always remained consistent is him. He’s been her pillar since the beginning of their marriage, even when things were rocky and they were trying to learn each other. He’s been there for her.

More than any other man in her life, and this rough patch for him, for them, should not be anything that has her questioning him or their relationship.

Roman loves her. Plain and simple. 

The same way she loves him. 

And it’s that love that’s going to get them through this.

Wiping at her eyes, nodding to herself, Solana takes a deep breath. Swapping the notebook in her lap for the phone on the nightstand, she navigates to the unheard voicemail from Dr. Michaels.

The one that’s sat there for three days now, Solana not feeling well enough to receive that answer.

But, not anymore.

It’s time.

Eyes closing for a second, her hand drops to her stomach as she finally hits the play button.

Almost instantly, a new, male voice fills the room.

“Hey Solana, it’s Dr. Michaels.” Her heartbeat is a mile a fucking minute, Solana having to take a deep breath to help herself calm down. “Got your test results back and looks like you and the Big Guy better start babyproofing that big ole’ house of yours.” And just like that, Solana smacks the pause button on the voicemail before doubling over, a sob leaving her mouth.

She knew it. Felt it. But, there’s something about hearing the confirmation. Knowing without a doubt that she’s pregnant that’s almost overwhelming. 

In the best possible way.

Sniffling, she smiles down and rubs her hand across her stomach.

She’s pregnant.

“Now, I don’t want to freak you out, but your hCG levels came back pretty high, which isn’t anything bad. At all. But, it can indicate a multiples pregnancy. Meaning you could be carrying twins, and if that’s the case……”

It’s difficult for Solana to continue to focus on the rest of his message, something about him reminding her that Dr. Sharmell is the go-to OB-GYN for Bloodline pregnancies, as well as a phone number she’d guess for this doctor. However, as appreciated as that is, it’s mostly in one ear and out the other, because all she can hone in on is one word.

Twins

Twins like the ones she’s had several, frequent, recurring dreams about over the past few months. Dropping her phone altogether, Solana places both hands on her stomach, somehow, someway already knowing that he’s right.

She is carrying twins.

Smiling, laughing faces that are the perfect combination of herself and Roman rushing to the front of her mind, deepening her smile, increasing her joy.

Her babies.

Overcome with happiness, Solana finds herself grabbing her current journal that was also sitting on the nightstand, trembling hands skipping to the end of the book that she’s damn near completed. Using the pen in the middle, Solana shares the news, officially, with the only person other than her husband who she would give anything to have to celebrate with right now.

Dear Mami,

I’m pregnant. 

With twins. 

I’m getting my happily ever after, after all.

Love,

Sol

She must reread it almost a dozen times, each reading widening her smile. It’s such a strange thing, how quickly emotions can oscillate. She’d traveled the feelings spectrum from one end to the other over the past week, but this stop…..this stop is one she’d be okay with staying at for a while. 

Solana grabs her phone again, fingers navigating to Roman’s contact. She’s not going to tell him. Not like this, but this avoidance game they’ve been playing needs to stop. A glance at the time as well as her pulling up the world clock reveals it’s almost midnight in Italy, but that doesn’t stop her from dialing the number regardless.

It’s time to talk to her husband.

Except, it’s not.

Because the phone goes straight to voicemail. 

Solana frowns. She can’t recall a time where Roman’s phone has ever been off. On Do Not Disturb, sure, but off?

Never.

Not since she’s been with him, at least.

The beeping on the other end alerts her to the fact that she can either leave a message or hang up. 

She decides on the former of the two options.

“Hey….” Clearing her throat, she does her best to keep her voice steady, a tricky task considering the life-changing news she’s sitting on. “I—I wanted to talk to you. I—I miss your voice. I miss you.” Swallowing, she smiles, wishing she could bask in this moment with him. “Call me back when you get a chance….I love you.”

Hanging up the phone, Solana scoffs, still slightly in a state of disbelief. Looking down at a still sleeping Dulce, a soft giggle leaves her mouth at thinking about how her fur baby is going to react to there being a real baby in the house.

Two.

Climbing off the bed, phone in one hand, Solana moves over to the dresser and grabs a change of clothes before heading to the attached master bathroom.

She’s done a lot of sulking while in her supposed happy place, engaged in a lot of avoidance behavior. 

No more.

She has a reason to smile, to be happy, to be excited. And she wants to lean into that.

Solana starts to make a mental list of things she wants to do before leaving in a couple days. The item at the top is to go see Paloma. She’s barely spoken to the older woman with kind eyes and a warm personality since first meeting her months prior.

It’s time to see her again. 

But, as much as she would like to focus on an agenda for the remainder of her trip, it’s difficult for her mind to not keep gravitating back toward the news.

To the thought of life growing inside her. 

Two lives formed from a beautiful though flawed love. Two individuals who have lost so much yet stand to gain so much more through the lives they’ve created together.

Solana knows Roman will be an amazing father. He’s been so good to her, so patient, so loving. Seeing that extended to their children just fills her with all of the butterflies.

They’ll definitely have to make some changes. She might have to cut back work hours. He could maybe work from home more, if that’s even a thing. No nanny. Roman probably wouldn’t trust anyone anyway.

And the guest room closest to them could easily be the shared nursery for both children. It only makes sense for the babies to be close to them, getting different, separate rooms as they get older.

Standing in the shower, continuing to go over any and all the details, there’s a small bit of sadness at not being able to share the news with her friends. She knows they’re all going to be so happy for her, and Solana knows they’ll plan the biggest, most elaborate baby shower that she’ll probably have to bribe Roman into attending.

All of it, even the maybe stressful things, keeps her smile on her face. 

It’s just been some time since she’s felt so happy. A well deserved thing following an almost week of anything but.

But, it’s as Solana steps out the shower, wraps the towel around her and checks her phone, her smile dims at her lock screen being littered with notifications.

1 missed call from Jey 

3 missed calls from Jimmy

4 unread texts from Jimmy

2 unread texts from Jey

And just like that, her stomach drops.

Something is wrong.

Given Jimmy is the one with the most outreach attempts, she bypasses reading any messages and just skips right to calling him.

Pacing across the bathroom, each ring on the other end feels like an eternity. Finally, he picks up. “Solana.”

“What’s wrong?” It’s blurted out, her desperation and fear loud and present. “What happened?”

A heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Solana…..”

“What happened, Jimmy!” She doesn’t mean to yell, but she does mean to stress that she needs this man to tell her just what the hell is going on.

Another pause. “Fetu took a turn for the worse.” Her heart stops. “She’s…..she’s probably not going to make it through the night.”

Of all the things to come out his mouth, Solana could have never guessed that would be it. She’s instantly in a brief state of shock. This can’t be……no, it can’t.

“What?” Is all she’s able to muster, leaning back against the counter, heart rate a mile a minute.

“I don’t….I don’t know all the details. Ava was too upset to talk, but—”

“Roman….” 

Jimmy blows out a deep breath. “He’s already on a plane here. He…..he was actually already on his way.” Solana’s frown deepens. “He wanted to surprise you.” And the knife just keeps twisting. “He knows and should land in a couple hours, but I don’t know if—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off. Solana can’t even fathom the notion of what he’s about to say. It can’t…..no. “Don’t say it.”

“Solana….” She’s never heard Jimmy sound so despondent. “From the way Ava was talking, she doesn’t have a lot of t—”

“He’s gonna make it.” There is no other alternative. None that Solana can consider. At least, not in this state. Because she’s still trying to sit on the fact that Roman’s laughing, smiling, hoot of an aunt is now suddenly at death’s door. It doesn’t make any sense. They were supposed to go see her. Solana had already texted and talked with Ava about surprising Fetu with a visit when Roman returned. 

And now…..

“I’m on my way.”

She can practically picture Jimmy’s surprise. “Solana, I don’t—”

“I need you to meet me at the airport and take me there,” she continues. Because Solana has only been there once, she doesn’t know how to get to Fetu’s place. But, Jimmy does, and something tells her Roman will land back home before she does, and she doesn’t want him wasting a second waiting around for her so they can go together.

“Solana, you’ve never…..you’ve never been around Roman when he’s lost someone. I don’t—I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you—”

“I am not letting him deal with this alone,” she vows, anger replacing the fear. “Prepare the jet for me.”

“Solana—”

“I said I’m going!” She snaps. Solana is certain her shout bypasses the perimeter of the closed bathroom door, travels into her bedroom and permeates throughout the house. “If you don’t want to help me, that’s fine. I’ll find a way. I will fucking swim back home and walk my way there if that’s what it takes, because I am not letting him deal with this alone.” There’s absolute silence on the other end. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

Jimmy is quiet for a good minute before answering. “I’ll be there when you touch down.”

There’s a small slice of relief that fills her at his agreement, but it’s nothing to sit in given the weight of the situation. “I’ll see you then.” 

Hanging up the phone, Solana hurriedly applies her deodorant and slips on her bra and panties. Walking out the bathroom, she moves over to the dresser, pulling out some sweats and a shirt. Once her sneakers are on, she’s grabbing Dulce, apologizing for waking her up as she moves out the room and down the stairs.

She finds Bautista and Nia in the kitchen, not hesitating as she informs, “pack your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Their surprised, borderline confused expressions make all the sense, but it’s Nia who speaks up. “What do you mean we’re leaving?”

Solana ignores her, carrying Dulce to the backdoor and letting her out, keeping her eyes on her puppy as she finds the patch of grass to relieve herself. 

Nia, of course, refuses to let it go, pushing her at a time where Solana is already trying not to sink into panic. “Look, you have been an impulsive mess all week. Randomly making us fly out here and now you’re making us randomly fly back. What the he—”

“Would you shut up!” It’s similar to the way she snapped at Jimmy, but angrier. More personal. “I don’t answer to you, Nia. I said we’re leaving, so we’re fucking leaving!”

And at that moment, Dulce hurries herself back inside, Solana slamming and shutting the door as she storms past a bewildered Nia to go back upstairs and finish packing.

Shaking hands, quiet sniffles, and silent tears accompany her preparation. She tried to call Roman again, only for the phone to once again go to voicemail, further worrying her.

He’s been pushing her away all week, but this…..this feels different. 

He’s icing her out, and it hurts, but not for her. She hurts for him, because he was already in a not good place before leaving. And now this?

“Please don’t take her from him…..” Solana finds herself pleading, praying for the first time in a long time. “He can’t…..he can’t lose her.”

Because he can’t. 

Because Solana can’t even imagine what losing Fetu would do to Roman. She isn’t sure how he’d handle it. 

If he could handle it. 

Less than twenty minutes later, Solana and Co. are out of the house and on their way to the airport. Dulce, forever perceptive, remains in her lap, every so often licking her arm and whining, cuddling close to Solana.

To her stomach. 

It’s appreciated. 

Necessary.

Because Solana is a nervous, emotional wreck sitting on the jet, Bautista and Nia wisely keeping their distance, leaving her alone in the bedroom with Dulce close by her side.

Solana tries to call both Roman and Ava one last time before takeoff. Neither answers.

It’s not unexpected, but it does make that despair lingering in the pit of her stomach grow.

Makes Solana think back on the letter she has tucked and hidden away at home. Makes her reflect on that almost ominous interaction with his aunt. 

Fetu shakes her head, Solana looking down when she places a white, sealed envelope in her hand. “I need you to give this to him when the time is right.”

Those words now haunt her, cause her to wonder just what is contained within that letter. If….if it was intended for a time like this.

A time where she’s no longer around.

Solana shakes her head, a sob breaking through as she tries to gather herself. She’s an emotional mess, yes, pregnancy hormones probably not helping, but regardless, she can’t be.

She needs to be strong. 

For Roman.

It’s what she keeps telling herself, reminding herself of as she’s forced to utilize some of her coping skills to settle her anxiety. Because it’s not just her she has to think about anymore.

It’s her babies, too.

Solana is nearly running out the jet the minute it lands and they’re clear to exit. She leaves Dulce with Nia, instructing her to take her back home.

Nia doesn’t argue with this.

But, the minute she steps foot out of the jet, her feet on ground, her eyes locked with Jimmy who waits near a black SUV…..she knows.

She just knows.

Solana’s hand goes to her stomach. “No……” Jimmy’s eyes shut as he runs his hand over his face, unshed tears glistening once he reopens his eyes and looks over at her. “Please, no…..”

“Solana….” 

Her voice breaks. “Don’t say it.”

But, he does. He absolutely says it. “She’s gone, Solana.”

She knew it. Knew it the moment her eyes locked with his that are filled with such tremendous grief, holding a truth she’d give anything to be anything but. But, on top of the grief that now fills her body the same way it fills Jimmy, there’s an entirely different layer that nearly grounds her when that realization settles. 

“Roman.” She’s almost scared to ask, but she has to. She just has to. “Did he….”

And it’s the way Jimmy’s sadness deepens as he shakes his head no that Solana’s already wavering resolve crumbles, that she breaks down in front of her husband’s cousin. Jimmy moves over to her, letting her cry into him at the second horrifying realization bulldozes into her with the weight of solid concrete.

Roman didn’t make it in time.

He didn’t get to see Fetu before she passed.

He didn’t get to say goodbye.

[kkayyerr]

Mean! Rafe with pogue! Reader when she regresses like how is he? Is he gentle? Does he tease? Those kinds of things, thank you xx

I got you!

I loooove writing headcanons.🫶🏻

Warnings: Age regression, Dark!Rafe, controlling behavior, manipulation, slight abuse.

– He would probably first met you when you would visit his sister. He knew that you were one of the Pogues, but it wasn’t what he found interesting about you.

– Your behavior wasn’t usual for a Pogue. You were quiet, shy and somewhat childish. Somehow he didn’t found you as annoying as the rest of them, he enjoyed observing you quietly, analyzing your behavior.

– Rafe won’t admit his interest in you to anyone, especially not to his sister, always making snarky comments about you when talking to her.

– „What is she, a five year old?”

– He wouldn’t mind saying things like that to your face, laughing when you will give him a pouty face, that he would secretly find adorable.

– „What was that, little girl? Too sensitive to handle a small tease?"

– But when he would first saw you in the fight that his friends started with Pogues, he would push you to the side, holding you in his hands, so you won’t get hurt. He would find a lot of excuses about that later, when his friends would confront him about being soft to the Pogue.

– Rafe would probably give you a little smirks every time he would see you at his house or somewhere else.

– When he would find out that you are regressed, he would wait for the perfect opportunity to ask Sarah to babysit you for her, and when that opportunity will come, he would make sure that there’s only you and him in the house. He would also make sure that this would be the last time you were talking to Sarah.

– „You know, I’m not like your friends, kid. I actually care about your well-being.”

– He would play with your mind, making you actually believe everything he said.

– „Baby, you’re too precious to think about that Pogue’s shit. Just let me take care of you, alright?"

– Soon enough, the brave Pogue girl will become daddy’s little doll.

– „No one will take care of you better than I do, baby.”

– He would make sure that you are way too eager for his attention and affection to actually leave, or even think about going back to the Pogues.

– Rafe would teach you manners, watching as you slowly turn into the true Kook, because he would be damned if he would let his baby’s brain being stuffed with that Pogue’s bullshit.

– He would dress you himself, adoring your little pink outfits and small ribbons in your hair, that he would braid himself.

– Everytime you would ask to see your friends he would just change his manner to the cold one, and watching as you slowly forgetting about wanting to see them, now crying because of lack of affection.

– „I told you baby, I don’t want you around your friends no more, they are bad influence. Let’s just go to the Topper’s house, yeah?”

– You won’t say „no”, because you know that there will be consequences for you.

– He won’t be using physical punishments. He would just left you alone when you will need him the most, waiting for you to come begging for forgiveness, hoping for at least crumps of his love.

– His favorite words are „yes, Daddy”.

– Rafe wouldn’t hesitate beating the shit out of the Pogues right in front of your eyes, if they would try and talk to you.

– When you will start crying because of the shock he would just hold you close, being much gentler than he usually was.

– „Daddy just wanted to protect you, baby”.

– You would never question his actions, because „Daddy always knows better”.

– Always.

[revelboo]

Oml I love earthspark megatron so much. He deserve some love. I'm a fiend when it comes to your fanfics. 😫🙌❤️❤️❤️

I feel like he’s probably his own worst enemy

Give Up/Give In Pt 7

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• Feeling the Malto’s staring, he knows he should probably put you down, but he likes the feel of your warmth in his hand. It’s one thing for the Malto’s to entrust themselves to him, they know him. But you just met him and you have to know his reputation. Know who he used to be and the things he’s done, so for you to be able to trust him not to hurt you? It spreads warm through his spark, a thing even more fragile than you are.

• Resting your palms on the big servos curled loosely about you, you study that expressive face. You’d seen Cybertronians on the news before, but it had usually just been grainy footage from a safe distance or shaky clips of two or more of them brawling as people run to get out of the way. Knowing that they were real wasn’t the same as being this close to one. Being held by one. Especially as the tip of a servo rubs between your shoulder blades then abruptly stops as he grimaces to make you wonder if he unconsciously thinks of you like you would a kitten, absentmindedly petting cause you’re there.

• “Can you stay for dinner?” Alex asks you and the question makes Megatron’s servos flex slightly. Stay? Like it’s a forgone conclusion that you’ll leave. Of course you have your own life, but he hadn’t really considered it and looking down at your little frame in his hand, there’s the errant thought that he could just refuse to let you go. You’re too small to stop him and once he would have without a thought. Taking what he wanted, because he could. He’s not that mech anymore, though. Won’t keep you against your will.

• “Sure?” You murmur as the hand curled about you lowers to let you down and glancing up at his stony expression, you hesitate. Strangely reluctant to leave the warmth of his hand. The safety. Because that panic is still there at the edge of your mind waiting to sinks its claws in and drag you back down. Not wanting to think about people screaming, the deafening boom of that cannon on his arm and the shriek of turbines. And he looks down at you, that tightness around his optics easing some, one corner of his mouth twitching into a wry smile that looks almost forced. It’s Dorothy that rescues you from your indecision, gently pushing Alex toward the house to ‘help with dinner.’ Leaving you with Megatron and your thoughts. The memories you don’t want coming for you.

• You’re shaking in his hand and it’s not really a surprise. Because he hoped you wouldn’t be, but of course you’re afraid of him. “I won’t hurt you, little one,” he says, hand still hovering above the ground to let you escape from him. Not expecting you to lean into his palm, for the shaking to intensify until your teeth are chattering. Curling his servos about you, he sits and brings you to his chassis, feeling the quick pounding of your heart against his servos. “Breathe,” he growls. “You’re safe.”

• That deep, rumbling voice anchors you as the fear runs wild through you. Not of him, but the clinging terror of the fight between him and the Seekers. That feeling of being so small, invisible and helpless. Hurt and abandoned when that other driver had run. Megatron had seen you, though. Reached for you. And even though you hate it, you start crying raggedly and press your face against his warm servos. Feel when he runs the servo of his other hand down your spine again and again. Unable to explain that you don’t want him to let go now, don’t want to think about what might have happened to you if he hadn’t seen you. Can’t tell him that his big hands are all that’s holding you together and if you go home to your empty house you’ll come apart. “I have you. Just breathe,” he growls, that voice a command and a promise. Reining in the terror choking you, as the servos of his other hand press gently against you to carefully pin you to his palm. Not a hug, but as close to it as the big Cybertronian can get and you cling to him, to warmth and safety.

Previous

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | may i have this dance?

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, The Boy, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; none really!!

♡notes; this popped into my brain the other day and i thought we were due for some fluff. i’m writing part two congruently so that’ll be posted soon too!!

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> Micheal Myers does not dance

> He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t want to learn

> But like with a lot of things, you get him to bend his rules

> He has a habit of looming in doorways to watch you

> At first it’s disconcerting, but you learn it’s just how he is

> So you pay him no mind as he’s watching you dance around the kitchen to some song that’s too popular for him to know

> Sweet and silly and carefree…

> He clicks the speaker off with a quiet huff

> “Hey, I was listening to that-“ You pout

> He rolls his eyes and puts on something a bit more to his taste

> And before you can playfully complain any more, he wraps his arms around you from behind and sways softly

> It takes a second for you to process it- he’s not normally so…gentle

> But in his own weird little way, he’s dancing with you

> He tenses a bit when you turn around- he’s embarrassed but would never admit it- but when you kiss his cheek he relaxes and gives a quiet hum

>And he keeps swaying as you lay your head on his chest

>Just for you, as long as you don’t tell anyone…Micheal Myers does dance. Just a little.

Thomas Hewitt

> Thomas doesn’t think about dancing

> He’s seen it on TV, read about it in books…but the Hewitts aren’t really the dancing types

> Nearest thing to dancing that he can think of ever doing is being held by his mama, when she’d sing and rock him when he was hurt or upset

> And it’s been a long time since anyone could hold him like that

> But one day you’re upset- he doesn’t know why but you burst into tears the moment he walked in, and it has him in a tizzy

> He quickly scoops you up, checking for any injuries but…nothing. You’re just crying and he hates seeing you like that

> So he does what used to make him feel better

> He can’t sing- or at least won’t, his words are always few and far between- but he hums, low and rumbling in his chest

> As he holds you and slowly sways you start to calm down

> You sniffle and all of the sudden giggle

> “Thomas Hewitt; are you dancin’ with me right now?”

> He looks confused but slowly nods as he thinks about it

> “Well thank you. I needed this.”

> He nuzzles you and continues until you’re calm- and far after that if you’ll let him

Bubba Sawyer

> As we know, Bubba is a very sheltered fellow, but he does like dancing!

> He’s not particularly coordinated but he doesn’t need much coaxing to twirl you around and around

> He’ll dance without music, humming a nonsense tune to you, maybe even whistling

> And if you sing to him he can’t help grinning and giggling

> It’s not uncommon for him to sway and spin with you in the living room if the radio got left on

> And he gets shy when you’re caught by one of his brothers

> “Bubba you stop wasting time, you little—“

> You cock your hip and give Drayton a cold look

> “Oh, I’m a waste of time now, cook?”

> Like always a smart remark goes a long way with Drayton, the twins immediately “oooh”ing and teasing him as he flusters

> Soon enough he’s chasing them out cursing and wielding a pair of tongs

> Leaving you and Bubba forgotten and free to sneak off and continue your fun in peace

Vincent Sinclair

> You’d have to ask

> Probably more than once, honestly

> Vincent is an artistic man, that’s not a doubt in the slightest- but he’s not even a little interested in anything that involves performance

> But you have a way of getting your way with him

> “Vince baby?”

> “…”

> “Pretty please?”

> “…”

> “If we take pictures then you can paint us.”

> He perks up a bit and you know you’ve got him

> “Cmon silly!” You drag him into the house of Wax, camcorder in hand

> Having gotten that far, you finally realize you don’t particularly know how to dance either, not really

> But you don’t tell him that, instead turning on the music and pulling him against you

> You’re clumsy and awkward and adorable as you spin around with him, not even a bit embarrassed

> He isn’t sure the reference stills are usable, but he’s more than happy the sweet moment on camera

Brahms Heelshire

> Brahms treats you like royalty- whatever you want is yours

> So if you say you’d like to go dancing, he is more than happy to arrange something

> Though of course, he doesn’t like leaving home… no matter. There’s plenty of room in the manor

> He makes a date out of it- he’s prone to making dates out of lots of silly things

> Silly or not, it’s sweet, and as always you fawn over him and praise him for the thoughtfulness

> He even bought you a cute outfit for the occasion - he loves dolling you up (pun slightly intended)

> After setting the music he bows and offers his hand- being a rich brat he knows a bit of ballroom dancing

> He’s more than happy to teach you, humming “1-2-3” with your steps

> But he’s laughing and giggling and just can’t stop gushing over how cute you are

> So if you fall into slow dancing like it’s the prom, he doesn’t mind

> Any dance with you is more than he can ask for

[pebsterino]

Im a fan of Da since 2019, I've cherished all 3 games, my favorite one is DA2. I will not be persuaded by anyone that DA4 is a good DA game.

They have damned everything I loved about Dragon Age for... this???

This is no longer the dark fantasy I fell in love with; it's a game that feels more like a Disney movie, complete with writing intended for children. The way they treat YOU as a player suggests that you aren't capable of solving the easiest riddle in this world. The direction of the writing is baffling. The constant explanations for everything make my blood boil because I'm not a child, and I can think for myself. They claim this is an RPG, yet it lacks any meaningful RPG elements. You have no choice whatsoever; your character is scripted the way the developers wanted them to be. (By the way, I had no idea that no matter which option you choose, your character will always try to be funny in an unfunny way.)

As for the gameplay, I've never cared for the gameplay in any Dragon Age games, so I won’t dwell on it, but I’ll share my opinion nonetheless. I think it’s still an improvement from Inquisition, but that’s not hard to achieve. The game was designed to be played online, which is another insane thing to consider. Is a Dragon Age game supposed to be online??? It’s so ridiculous, and I have no idea how BioWare thought it would work when nobody showed any interest in the multiplayer mode in Inquisition.

The lack of choice and the absence of consequences for your actions are glaring issues. Not a single companion cares if you try to be "rude" to them because you simply can’t be. The fact that you cannot make any of your companions leave your party is ridiculous. You are forced to harden one of your companions (which happens in almost every title), and the only consequences of them being hardened are that they will refuse to heal you and their approval rating is slightly lowered. You can literally romance both of them as if nothing happened.

I'm tired of my companions constantly reminding me that they have issues and need to work through their trauma with my character. As someone who goes to therapy every week, I find this portrayal insulting and ridiculous. Therapy is neither fun nor pleasant. It isn’t something you resolve by completing two quests and reassuring a character that “it’s fine, we have each other, and I care about you; your feelings are valid.” It’s the most absurd echo chamber I’ve ever been in. The fact that none of my companions can stop making everything about themselves and get their shit together while a blight is swallowing the world is beyond me. Therapy takes months, even years, and it’s a deeply personal journey that friends cannot, and shouldn't, interfere with. The whole idea that my protagonist can choose what’s best for the companions is equally absurd. My companions should be making choices based on how I treated them throughout the game; it shouldn't be up to me to decide that. And the best part is that, in the end, it doesn't matter, because no choice in this game has any real weight. Honestly, it’s narcissistic of anyone to expect others to fix their mental health issues. This was a reality check for me when I was younger; it hurts, but it is what it is.

The writing of the characters is something I never thought possible, but here we are. Most characters are written as if they're afraid to offend anyone. My wise friend once said, "If you live your life trying to avoid offending everyone, you might as well not live at all," and that’s true. It’s probably another reason why I can’t take anything seriously in this game—because nothing is serious. Nobody talks like this ever. So much of this is self-indulgent writing, which is fine and valid if you do it for yourself, not for the masses who will play this game.

This is easily illustrated by the Commander of the Grey Wardens, who tries so hard to be the bad guy. He won’t listen to logic or reason; he’s just a children’s movie villain who is evil for the sake of being evil. Honestly, the dialogue speaks for itself.

[arkieve]

1977, Christmas break. Regulus had his first kiss behind the greenhouse at their school two weeks ago. With a pocket full of coins and a stomach full of weights, he learns how to use a phone box for the first time–clutching a piece of paper with a phone number on it. All just to hear James’ voice again. One last time before the year ends. | wc: 582

It’s nerve-racking listening to the ringing, waiting for his call to be picked up. He sways back and forth, white-knuckle grip on the phone, thumb between his teeth as he waits. 

Regulus keeps an eye out on the cobblestone street, irrational fear that the passers-by will somehow know he’s doing something he shouldn’t and report back to his mother. 

A few feet over, Mr. Kreacher leans impatiently against the sleek black Rolls-Royce. When he notices that Regulus won’t be coming out anytime soon, he, too, engages in a covert activity–fishing a pack of cigarettes from his inner jacket pocket and lighting up. It almost eases Regulus’ nerves and makes him smile.

“Hello?”

Regulus jumps at the sudden voice–one he doesn’t recognise. Older, masculine–James’ dad. Shit, he hadn’t rehearsed for this.

“Hello?”

“I–Hi,” Regulus cringes. This was stupid, he feels stupid, and he can’t feel his nose; the tips of his fingers are tingling from the biting cold. “Sorry, I’m just go–”

There’s another, rather weaker voice that joins in on the other line. “Who is it?”

Oh. Regulus recognises that one, and so does his heart, apparently, from the way it threatens to leap out of his chest.

The conversation on the other end is muffled, and then there’s some shuffling before things become clearer.

“Regulus?”

His heart goes pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The heat in his cheeks should be enough to defrost the windows of the phone box.

“James.”

“Shit, it really is you,” he sounds excited, breathless. More shuffling and he settles, breathing out a sigh that sends shivers down Regulus’ spine.

“So,” James’ tinny voice calls over the line. “What are you wearing?”

Regulus allows himself the blush that covers his entire face and he knocks his head against the glass window to his right. 

“Oh, you know,” he mumbles, playing James’ game to the best of his abilities, “the usual.”

“Ah,” Regulus can hear the stupid smile on his face, “my favourite.”

“Shut up, you’re just saying things.”

“I’m not! I like everything about you, so I’m not lying, not really.”

Regulus thunks his head against the glass again in response, biting his lips so hard it hurts. “Shut up,” he mutters.

“I miss you,” James says without missing a beat, and Regulus needs him to stop, or at least give him a minute so his heart can slow down. There are only so many times he can hit his head against the window before the lady walking her dog, who’s taken a special interest in his peculiar behaviour, intervenes for his sake or he, you know, drops unconscious. “I really miss you,” James repeats, as if once isn’t enough.

“I miss you too,” comes Regulus’ reply, and it doesn’t scare him how easily those words come out of him, nor how much he means it. “I really miss you too.”

“Then I should hurry back, shouldn’t I? Can’t leave you there all by your lonesome.”

“No,” Regulus pouts, and then he remembers himself enough to stop pouting, but not enough to stop himself from saying, “you can’t. So you better hurry.”

“I’m on my way, love.”

Love. Love. Love. Love. Lovelovelovelovelovelovelove—

There’s a knock against the glass door of the box. “Hey, kid! Knock it off with all the banging will ya!”

Regulus startles, struggling not to drop the phone before cradling it to his chest, frozen as he watches the man leave him to his horror and James’ awful cackling on the other end of the line.

[wannabanauthor]

Tin foil hat time for BuckTommy:

While I believe Tommy should be the one to reach out to Buck, I don’t think that’s going to happen.

So here’s another fix it idea:

Buck learns how to fly a helicopter. He goes to Tommy’s house and practically drags him over to a helicopter but won’t tell Tommy what he’s doing.

Tommy goes along with it because he misses Buck so much, and even though he’s hurting, at least he gets to see him again and share a helicopter with him.

Buck flies them to Vegas, and Tommy is confused because there are no sports matches that day.

He’s confused until they end up in front of a jewelry store, and he’s starting to panic but follows Buck inside.

The clerk recognizes Buck and brings out Buck’s special order: two different sized engagement rings.

The one meant for Tommy is exactly what he would want in a ring, but he’s so confused until he sees Buck on one knee holding the ring in its box.

“Marry me,” Buck says. “I love you, and I want to be with you. I see a future for us even if it scares you.”

Tommy doesn’t give an answer just yet. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” He’s in tears and trying to hold them back.

Buck stands up and slides the ring onto Tommy’s ring finger.

“I want to marry you. I get that you’re afraid I’m eventually going to leave you, but I want to prove that I’m not going to. If you agree to marry me, know that I take this commitment seriously. Divorce is hard and lengthy, with or without a prenup. So maybe getting married will be the push we both need to make it work.”

Tommy stares at the ring on his finger. “This is a bad idea. It’s impulsive. Relationships don’t work that way.”

“An unconventional marriage for an unconventional couple. We don’t have to do marriage the way society says it has to be. We can create and shape it into whatever we want,” Buck says.

He pulls out some folders with paperwork and hands it to Tommy. “I had to call in a favor to get multiple versions of a prenup just to make sure we’re both protected if you want to sign one.”

Buck is still smiling at Tommy with love and hope in his eyes.

“Evan,” Tommy whispers and starts crying.

Buck pulls him into a hug and just holds him.

Buck hears some muffled sounds. “What was that?”

Tommy pulls back and wipes his eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Buck has a huge grin, and the clerk claps for them.

Buck pulls out a clipboard with a wedding itinerary.

“We have an appointment at a chapel in an hour. Our friends and family are there waiting for us.”

Tommy grins and kisses him softly, almost moaning at the feeling of Buck’s lips against his. He’s missed this.

His heart beats at an unnatural speed when they say their vows in front of their loved ones.

Tommy gets added to the 118 spouse group chat.

They have a mini honeymoon in Vegas in a really nice suite, and they spend most of their time in bed chatting and having sex, and even they do leave their room, it’s to consume an ungodly amount of food to fuel their sex marathons.

Once the weekend is over, Buck flies them back to LA. Their first kiss in their home city as a married couple happens at the Harbor Station, the very same place where Buck first met Tommy.

As for their living situation, they decide to be unconventional and switch off every week. A week at Buck’s loft, and then a week at Tommy’s house. It gives them to time to learn how to live with each other at each residence before choosing a permanent place to settle.

Of course, divorce is always an option, but Tommy loves married life with his husband, Evan Kinard.

He also promises to never call him “Buck” again.

And they spend the rest of their lives reaffirming their love for each other, and working through the difficult parts.

Finally, Tommy can relax, knowing he’s found the one.

[cokoweee]

I had goosebumps with this last update, and enjoyed re-reading it. (Also I had to almost skip ahead when I saw things coming cause I was so excited, I can’t remember the last time a comic series had me do that.) Anyway you really made Bishop one creepy fucker. He’s got these long nails, and what the heck happened to his face?! I almost want to wonder if he did some Kraang manipulation with his cloning process, but that almost feels out of character… looks at 2012 bishop… but I guess that it wouldn’t be the first time…. Looks at IDW Bishop… or the last… But yeah, this is a very unique take. I almost wonder if this is really the last we’ll see him, but if so, very interesting story. (Maybe even if you wanted to continue the story after the romance arc, cause like…that guy isn’t gonna give up till he drops dead….)

My thoughts exactly, Kendra…. Also the parallel and irony with Kendra using the head-butt move on Donnie of all people… And both Donnie and Yuichi being more chill with her resourcefulness rather than angry that she hurt them. (But Donnie being more “actually that did hurt”)

That little moment where Donnie says he’s taking Kendra home… no, he says “Let me take you home” which was probably just said like a “you are being difficult” since they did establish that Kendra can stay as long as she wants, that the lair is her home. However to Kendra, she just lost the last bit of her old life, and hearing that she still at least had Donnie as a lifeline, was definitely a relief to hear….

And lol he’s so big she has to stretch just to reach up around his neck. Poor dude is battling his need for personal space, and the excitement that she’s hugging him. (Especially after the touchy talk) (Hoo boy I wonder what the spirit’s conversation was like…hmm…writing idea…?) And of course, fans love that tell-tale tail wagging! This story has been so much fun to follow, and still keeping me attached to the tmnt brainrot and I’m grateful!

Ah Bishop..😗 With him I’ve always wanted him to be a lil quirky. Using Kraang materials to alter closings isn’t that off tbh. It makes sense in a way atleast to me and if it means making a longer lasted more durable body then fuck yeah he’d do it

Hes a collector of many sorts. If he wants something he’ll get it. Keep it and if it had use he’ll use it. He won’t even let death stop him from growing that oh so normal collection. Even after the blah blah cringe(romance) arc he’s around and gets three new interests

The way Donnie says it can be read a few different ways tone wise. My brain went through multiple ways and since I couldn’t show the tone he said it through I’ll leave it up to yall. Oh boy oh boy lil hyped bout the next update thing part chapter thing🎰

[takumasheisty]

✩ ˛˚ . Use your words ✩ ˛˚ .

Synopsis: You and your husband decide to try something different. As he’s tied up, nude, and at your mercy, you restrain from initiating anything until Reiner tells you verbatim what he needs.

Pairing: Reiner Braun x fem!reader

Genre: smut

a/n: my obsession for Reiner comes back every few weeks so I decided to go into my drafts and finally finish this one which I started like idk when (also isn’t this aesthetic so cute 🤭)

You just finished tying Reiner with the new ropes you two bought together the other day.

“How do they feel baby? Too tight? Too loose?” You ask waiting for a response.

“Um.. they feel.. fine.” Reiner shys away, blushing at the situation. No matter how excited his is for this, he’ll always feel embarrassed at the way he’s exposed for you.

“You sure you still wanna do this?” You give him another chance to stop right there, and continue like you guys have done in the past. But he insists that he wants this.

“Yes! Yes.. I want to.. with you.” You smile at him, caressing his cheek as he looks up at you with a pleading expression.

“You’re so cute, y’ know that?” You take your hands and run them up and down his abs and back, making him shiver. He throws his head back, whimpering quietly in anticipation of whatever you were planning to do with him.

You gently suck on his pale neck, leaving hickeys all over and pulling more whimpers from him.

“Y-Y/N..” you smile and straddle his lap, gently grinding on his hard cock, still restrained in his boxers.

“A-ah.. you’re so beautiful, an’ make me feel so good.” Reiner showers you in praise, slightly bucking his hips up, creating friction between his cock and your cunt. “N-never had someone love me like this before.. thank you Y/N.” He holds you tight, nuzzling himself into your neck as you grind on each other lovingly.

“You deserve so much more, always a good boy for me.” He whimpers at the praise you give him, your honey-like voice going straight to his dick.

You get up from his lap, leaving him reaching for more as you take off the rest of the clothing separating you from each other. You then release his cock from his restraining boxers, and he winces at the light, airy contact.

You slowly walk around, tracing your finger along Reiner’s jawline, his eyes never leaving your hands. Again, you gently suck on his neck, dragging your fingernails down his chest. He looks up at you, a glint of love, admiration, and neediness in his eyes. You don’t want to wait any longer and neither does he.

“What do you want to do, love?” You ask your sweet husband. You were eager, but tonight you felt the urge to take care of your baby.

“Ah.. I don’t.. I don’t know. Whatever you want to do. I’ll be happy with whatever you choose.” He stammers, waiting for your next action.

“C’mon, Reiner. Nothing.. in mind at all?” Lacing your words with seduction, you slowly lower yourself down below his knees, his eyes following your every move.

You walk your fingers up the inside of his thighs causing him to squirm slightly. A wave of pink flushes his face, and he frantically looks around the room, avoiding the trance of your deep brown eyes.

You continue to walk your fingers up, stopping right before you reach his heavy balls. The sudden halt worries him.

“W-why’d you stop..?” He questions, a puzzled look on his face.

“Words, Reiner. You have to use your words. What do you want me to do for you?” You know exactly what he wants but you’re working on getting Reiner to express his needs on his own, rather than letting you guess what he wants all the time.

“But.. Y/N..” He whines.

“Mm? What’s the problem?” You’re set on pushing him to ask you directly for what he wants and prefers.

“I can’t.. i can’t.. ‘s too embarassing..” he says, hanging his head low.

“Well I can’t either. If you won’t talk I can’t help you.” It almost hurts to be so stern with your sweet husband, but he needs to learn to be more assertive.

“Guess I’ll just sit here.” You sigh, seemingly bored, and begin drawing circles with your finger on his muscled thigh. Through your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at the wall, occasionally glancing at you. It’s obvious he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

“The longer you take the longer it’ll take for you-“ You begin explaining until the sound of his voice interrupts you.

“T-touch.. me.. want you to touch me.. p-please.” Now you’re getting somewhere. You grin like a Cheshire Cat before making your next move.

“I see. Where? Where do you want me to touch you? You question, acting clueless to the obvious answer. His eyebrows furrow, his expression akin to one of a kicked puppy. But you still stick to the agenda, waiting for his response.

“…my d-dick.. please..” he finally spits out, his volume decreasing each syllable that left his mouth. For such a big man he’s awfully timid, and it’s so cute.

“Your wish is my command.” You tease him before softly taking his leaking cock into your hands.

He groans lightly, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. With your free hand, you feel all over his torso, outlining his defined abs with your long nails.

Reiner’s a sensitive man, so you start slow, careful not to apply too much pressure. It’d be a shame if he finished too quickly. You alternate between slow strokes and short quick strokes, keeping his attention in your grasp.

“Hah…a-ah..Y-Y/N..” he whimpers out, his breathing quickening with each stroke of your hand. He strains at the ties, accentuating the way the ropes squeeze at his muscles even more.

“Reiner, baby. You okay?” You ask, still stroking his cock which now has precum dripping down the side.

“Y-yes.. yeah.” He grits his teeth and adjusts himself in his chair.

As you pump his length, you focus on that sweet, sweet underside that always makes shivers run down his spine. The stimulation of the area causes his mouth to fall slightly agape, and his eyebrows to pinch.

“Ngh.. p-lease.. I’m s-sensitive, Y/N.” He squirms slightly, his hips gently bucking into your hand.

“I know baby. Won’t tease you too much, promise.” You assure him, and you can see his clenched jaw ease. You then begin placing kitten licks and kisses on his dick, eliciting more whimpers and cries from him. You lick a long stripe from the bottom to his cute pinkish tip, circling your tongue around it.

“F-fuck..!” He grits his teeth and furrows his eyebrows, looking down, keeping eye contact with you. It’s so adorable when he looks like this, overwhelmed with pleasure.

Finally, you take his entire dick in your mouth, skillfully rotating your tongue around his mushroom tip. His usual quiet demeanor had broken, now he was in your bedroom, moaning shamelessly.

“A-AH! Ngh.. F-fu.. a-ah Y/N!” He cries out, breathing heavily. He ruts his hips up so eagerly, like he doesn’t have any control over his body. You attempt to hold his hips down and stop him from writhing so much, but it’s no use.

“Reiner, baby. I can’t take care of you if you keep moving like this.” You say, holding back a giggle.

“ ‘m s-so- ngh.. sorry. Just f-feels so good.” He says, his breathing slowing as you release him from your mouth.

“Can I..?” You ask, and he nods his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. Again, you take him in your mouth, this time using your free hand to tease his nipples. Over time, you noticed his nipples were extremely sensitive, so from then onward, you never failed to take advantage of this.

“F-f-fuck! O-oh.. s’ too good.. getting c-close..Y/N…” His movements were become more erratic, a clear indication of his approaching organism. But you keep going, not slowing down, and disregarding his warning.

“Close.. c-close.. p-please I’m s’ close..” he begins whimpering, squeezing his eyes shut. You take him out of your mouth, still jerking him off.

“Not yet, Reiner. Can you hold it for me baby?” You ask him.

“M-mh-ngh.. mhm.. y-yes, I c-can.” His moans quiet down, and it seems he’s now focused on holding his orgasm just a little bit longer for you. So sweet, trying so hard to please you.

“D-don’t know.. if I can.. any.. any l-longer. P-please.. cum?” He pleads with you, his voice breaking. He was so close, so close to release, and he was just waiting on your command.

“Go ahead love. You did so well for me.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, he breaks. His whimpers and moans filling the room as his dick releases continuous spirts of his thick cum.

“A-ah! Fuck! F-fuck Y/N! Ah..!” He tries to move his hips, trying to fuck himself through his high, but the orgasm is too strong. So strong it leaves him twitching slightly, so you help him, continuing to jerk him off.

“Good job, baby. Did so, so good.” You coo, kissing up on his neck and chest. He looks up at you with admiration, wanting so badly to touch you, to feel you.

“Wanna.. feel you.. please.” He pleads with you, and you just can’t say no. You leave another kiss on his lips, and walk around to his front.

You lower yourself down until you’re hovering over him. You take his dick in your hand and rub the tip on your wet folds. He moans lightly at the contact as you take him inside you little by little. Reiner is a big man, so it takes a little time to get used to the size of his cock.

“W-wait, Y/N.. wan’ touch you, can you.. untie?” Reiner chokes out, seeming completely out of breath. You comply, releasing his hands from the binds.

Again, you hover over his dick, this time with his hands helping to guide you. Slowly, you sink down fully, moaning quietly. He throws his head back, moaning, and you haven’t even started moving yet.

After allowing the two of you to get used to the familiar feeling, you begin to bounce up and down slightly.

“Ngh.. y-you.. feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You throw one arm over his shoulder to balance yourself, and lift his chin up towards you with your thumb. His gentle, hazel eyes were glossy and filled with desperation. With every movement of his eyebrows pinched, his pink lips slightly parted. The blonde man’s large hands roamed your body, caressing the curves of your hips and the plushy feeling of your thighs.

“H-hah.. ah f..fuck.” He whimpered in between short, shallow breaths. His hips began to slightly rut his hips up into you, the once gentle feeling becoming more crude. Reiner began to suck and nibble at your neck and with each love bite he placed on your skin, you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“R-Reiner.. g’na.. g’na c-cum..” you cried out.

“ ‘m close.. s’ close.. Y-Y/N.. i-in..? Can I?” You nod subconsciously, not really paying attention to anything but the contact of his mushroom tip against your gummy walls. Reiner’s grip on your hips tightened, and you could tell you were both desperately chasing your highs. His thrusts quickened, becoming slightly rougher as he pleaded to cum.

“Y/N.. c..umming.. ah..!” He cried out into the room, his eyelids shutting tightly and his mouth falling agape. His thighs twitched with each rope of cum he released, tipping you off the edge.

Your orgasm washed over like a strong wave, and pulsed though you like a continuous current. You wrapped Reiner’s neck, holding on to him tightly.

“L-love you.. Y/N.. s’ much.” He sighed, his chest rising up and down softly.

“Love you too.” The two of you sit there for a minute, basking in the warmth of each other’s body heat before hopping in the tub to take a calming bath together.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

a/n: y’all I got so lazy at the end forgive me 🙏🏾

[quietwingsinthesky]

OH RIGHT. rose. i was thinking about this because jack might be the one person who can actually put into words what was going on between the doctor & rose because he was there, he was in the middle of it. not that the information comes out easily, but he’s less avoidant of saying the words ‘he loved her’ than the doctor is. which. i just think it would be kind of sweet and sad for even to also for the first time actually connect the word to the feeling. that’s love. that’s what that is.

[lordofthemushrooms]

can I say something truly insane about my Solavellan…..

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[kurooh]

when choso first learns about what facesitting really is, he brings it up after a make out session that’s left you both hot and heavy. he’s tugging on your hand, practically begging you to take a seat.

“i-i’m not sure,” you stutter, unsure. “what if you suffocate or something? i don’t wanna hurt you..”

the look he gives you is one of pure need and longing. “i don’t care, just sit baby. please.”

for good measure, choso gives you a little pout, breaking into giggles and a smile once you slip your panties and shorts off. your thighs tremble as you hover above his face, eyes squeezing shut at the heat of his breath against your sticky cunt.

“mmm, that’s no good,” he remarks, large hands rising to your hips and settling lightly. “i told you, sit down.” choso’s strong, yanking you down hard onto his face; you feel and hear his muffled moan when your pussy’s all over his whole face.

“choso!”

“so, so fucking good,” choso gasps against you, holding your squirming body in place as his tongue laps and laps at your sticky cunt.

beneath you, his body’s sweltering with heat, racing through every nerve like electricity while tight pressure builds in his cock. with a glance over your shoulder, you notice his hips rutting into the air as he searches for friction.

“cho,” you sob, so overwhelmed you actually feel tears building in your eyes, “i-i wanna suck you off, ‘s not fair—”

he easily lifts you and peers up at you from between your thighs, face flushed and shining with your slick. with a shaky finger, you nudge some of his hair away from his forehead.

“don’t want you to,” it’s painful to say, because he really does, but that’s simply a distraction for the both of you. “baby,” he murmurs gently, “i want you to focus on cumming for me, ‘s all, okay?”

you nod quietly, and the gesture is met with a mild slap to your ass. “okay, cho,” the moment the words leave your bitten lips, he’s pulling you back down and greedily drinking all of you in, taking whatever he can get.

choso’s ministrations encourage you to roll your hips against his face; a light bump of his nose to your clit has you crying out and grinding all over him. that’s right, he thinks, stars in his closed eyes. he wishes he could tell you to use him to get off, but he’d have to lift you up and he doesn’t want to even breathe.

unconsciously, he matches your pace, his hips rising into the air in synchrony with your own. one of your hands slips into his silky hair and tugs; he’s your anchor, keeping you somewhat steady although he’s the reason you can’t stop shaking.

“choso,” you wail loudly, angling your hips to let him take your clit between his lips and suck, “oh, i’m so close, ‘m gonna cum soon—”

from between your thighs, choso sees everything: the parting of your lips, the way your face crumbles in absolute pleasure, the brief moment of stillness as you fully fall over the edge.

it’s too much and not enough, but he cums too.

“c-cumming, choso,” is all you can muster, riding out your orgasm on his face and tongue while his hips buck wildly into the air.

the muffled moan you feel deep in your cunt makes you gasp, pulling away at the feeling of overstimulation, but he’s holding you tight. a look over your shoulder at the right moment, and you watch as his clothed cock explodes, gushing cum and soaking his boxers.

after all your squirming and pulling away, choso finally lets you go with crescent moon indents in your plush skin and a loud huff.

“i wasn’t done,” he heaves, skin smeared with your cum. it’s glossy and messy, but he won’t think about washing it off until you’ve cum at least three more times.

“but you came and everything, i—”

choso silences you by sealing his lips against yours, and you can briefly taste yourself— sweet, just like he’s always said.

“a few more times, please?”

[beloveds-embrace]

(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️)

Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.

You do not expect love, though you suppose it’d be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.

You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnny’s food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isn’t hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you don’t.

Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each other’s clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husband’s desk.

It’s hot.

What’s not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce it’d put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.

And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.

But suddenly, it’s like your eyes have been opened. It’s not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husband’s heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.

“My lady-“

“I- I’ll just- I’m taking a walk! Alone!”

You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.

Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels… almost guilty…

You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. “Johnny… are you too…-?”

“Aye, m’lady. But-“

You can’t take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. It’s not as if you are upset! It’s just- a rather befuddling situation?

Two nights later, it’s John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but it’s your husband. You are glad it’s winter, and you aren’t simply in a thin nightgown.

“Wife.” He says, voice steady yet strained.

“John.”

You can’t call him husband. You’ve spent the last two days thinking and you were… rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), weren’t you?

John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. “…what do you want to remain silent about this?”

You blink, raising an eyebrow. “…huh?”

John’s fists clench. “How much do you want in return for your silence?”

Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. ��Is this about your… partners?” You say the word delicately, then shake your head. “I want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I won’t. I just… hope this doesn’t mean you will divorce me?”

Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.

He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you aren’t a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this won’t take away the protection this marriage gave you.

That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.

Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.

With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more… relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another… and the less polite kisses.

John can’t remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that he’s become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.

And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.

It’s similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.

And Duke Riley… for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when he’d stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on John’s arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.

Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.

It’s why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.

“-So that’s why I was asking, John,” you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. “He will not spread any rumors, I’ll personally make sure of that-”

Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. “I- I am… merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldn’t say anything.”

It’s clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.

Unsatisfied.

Well, he can’t have that, can he? You’ve done your wifely duties so admirably, it’s about time he took care of you as well… and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldn’t it?

Oh yes. Yes, it would.