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msbigredmachine · 1 year

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Dirty Little Secret - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

They are each other’s escape, too good to let go of. Until they have to let go.

PAIRING: Tribal Chief Roman Reigns x OC

Warnings: LOTS OF SMUT, toxic behavior, cheating, angst

Word count: 10k (Sorry's it's so long 😆)

A/N: ANOTHER ONE! This has been in my drafts for months! Still haven't figured out what genre this story falls under. Maybe y'all can help me out lol. Enjoy!

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Anaheim, California

Roman’s POV

10.35pm. Fresh off yet another great Smackdown in which I was the center of attention as usual. The show went great; I’m still champ, I’m on a high and I know I'm gonna sleep good tonight…Well, when I do sleep, that is.

I step out of the shower and towel myself as I return to the bedroom of my bus. I stop in my tracks and drink in the beauty perched at the edge of my bed, her long legs crossed, her beloved Women’s title on her lap and her phone by her ear. Even in a bathrobe and a silk bonnet protecting her hair, she looks good enough to eat, just like she did tonight, and I plan on having her for my late-night dessert.

Being the face of the WWE, the Tribal Chief and the Head of the Table, I don’t fuck around with just anyone. Tori Milan is as premium as premium gets. The Alpha Female, the Smackdown Women’s Champion, one of the most successful professional wrestlers of our generation, and my fuck buddy. If the fans knew that I get to dick her down on a nightly basis, they would lose their minds. But they would never know. No one would ever know. She’s my sexy little secret and I plan to keep it that way.

“Baby, you know I can’t FaceTime while driving,” she scolds whoever she’s talking to on the phone. I know who it is, but I refuse to acknowledge his existence. Yeah, I’m petty like that, and I’m about to be even more petty in a second.

Stopping at the bed, I move her title belt away, then kneel before her and wrap her legs around my waist. My bare chest is flush against her own as I kiss on her neck while I rub her thighs. Her scent engulfs my senses, bringing me into her world. A small groan rumbles in my chest as I suck a little harder on her throat and push my hands into her robe to massage her breasts. She tries to look mad at me, but the hazy look in her eyes tells me that she’s turned on. So, I switch to a better…distraction.

Kissing and licking a trail down her body, I tuck my head between her legs and grip her thighs so she can’t get away. My tongue jabs between her pussy folds, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning. Spreading her legs wider, I lick and suck her as quietly as possible. That idiot on the phone is still yapping away, oblivious to the fact that his wife is getting this work…again.

“Babe, I hear you, but can we talk tomorrow, please?” She tries to rush through the rest of the call. “Look, I gotta go. I’m about to ride, I mean drive…I’m not cutting you off, Caleb, I need to get going…I’ll call you in the morning, I promise…You too. ‘Night.” Hanging up, she tosses the phone and slumps down to the bed with a loud groan. I bury my face in her depths, dining on her sweetness. Fuck, she always tastes so good. Even better are the noises she’s making as I eat the fuck out of her.

“Eat it up, Daddy…fuck, your tongue...mmph, eat my fucking pussy,” she encourages me.

“So fucking juicy, baby.” I take my fingers and spread her folds open. “Most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen, you know that?” Lowering my mouth again, I take my time, licking her opening, over and over. She’s squirming, trying to fight off her orgasm, but she’s no match for my talents. Holding her down to the bed, I twist my tongue around her clit, going fast, then slow. Once I push my finger inside her, it’s a wrap.

“I'm gonna come. Fuck, I’m coming!” she moans, her trembling fingers clutching the back of my head. With a few pumps of my finger, she screams out my name. Her back arches, her thighs quiver as she comes all over my mouth and finger and beard. I lick her all up, her satisfied sighs music to my ears. Pulling her robe completely off her, I usher her further up the bed and keep her flat on her back. On my knees, I hold up one of her trademark long legs. The hunger in her eyes fuels me, and I pat her pussy with my dick as she gasps.

“You know I had a title match tonight, right?” she reminds me. “I wasn’t on just segment duty all night, unlike some people.”

“That’s why I’m the face of the company,” I tell her. “And don’t worry. You can lay there and let me do the work,” I offer, even though it’s not something I do often. But for her, I always make an exception.

“So generous,” she mocks, her teasing giggle vanishing with a moan when I slide inside her. Her legs open wider and I watch my cock slowly split open her pussy, accommodating all my length and girth. She takes me so well with no complaints, and it’s why I always want her in my bed whenever I can have her.

“You looked so fuckin’ hot tonight,” I tell her between thrusts, watching them chocolate titties bounce, “Your new ring gear is sexy as fuck.”

“I had you in mind when I designed it,” she answers. A shiver passes through me as her tight little cunt suckles my pumping cock. Tori smirks as she gauges the look of pleasure on my face. “Mmm, look at you, Big Daddy. You love this pussy, don’t you?”

“The Tribal Chief loves your pussy, babe,” I say, twisting her lower body to the side so her ass pokes out at me. Grabbing a handful of the supple cheek, I begin flexing my hips firmly, grinding all up in the pussy, making her moan over and over. “You like that, huh? You like the way I’m fucking you, baby?” I ask her, spanking her ass and watching it jiggle.

“Yeah, it feels so good. Fuck, baby, right there,” Her voice dies out as I shift her knee up to her chest and keep digging into her, massaging her g-spot with my dick which is now covered in her juices. Her wetness is the only sound that can be heard at the moment and it’s hot as hell. I make sure to rub her body while I fuck her, making her feel good. Then, I curve my hand around her throat and squeeze a little, taking her pleasure levels up another notch. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she seems to stop breathing. Pride rushes through me and I lean down to slip my tongue in her mouth for an erotic CPR, bringing my girl back to life as I give her this deep dick. Nobody fucks her as good as I do, not even her lame ass husband.

Our collective breathing is ragged as I pick up the pace, thrusting faster and harder into her. Tori clutches my hips, as though trying to bring me deeper into her, and it prompts me to accelerate. Her pussy tugs my dick with every thrust, dragging me towards my release. I pull out and spread her legs open again, giving both of us brief respite. Stroking my dick for a few seconds, I guide it back inside her, watching her jaw drop and her head arch into the pillow. I lean forwards and pin her knees to the bed, and her moans devolve into throaty cries as I pound her into the mattress. The bed bounces beneath us from how hard I’m going, but shit always feels so good with her that I lose control more times than I want to admit. Gasping and moaning, she stares up at me, gripping my forearms with both hands.

“Shit, babe…yes, fuck me with that big dick, Daddy…”

“Uh huh, take this fuckin’ dick, take it,” I growl at her, switching to deep, grinding strokes that find the bottom of her pussy. My balls tighten, and judging from the way she’s moaning and the rush of warm liquid I feel underneath me, she’s squirting, and squirting generously. Heat courses through my veins, and I keep going. In and out of her, in and out, until my entire body goes rigid. Her pussy pulses and milks my dick, and I nut so hard, it takes my breath away. Panting softly, I can barely hold myself up on my arms; my heart is hammering so loud I’m sure she can hear it. A lifetime goes by before I release her legs and slowly start to pull out, but she stops me and rolls me onto my back, kissing me softly as she keeps me inside her. She’s lucky she’s got that Nexplanon because she should be knocked up many times over by now.

"Don't move, I wanna feel you go soft inside me,” she whispers against my lips, her heated body flush on top of mine.

I have zero objections and keep making out with her, caressing her soft skin. Of course, this does little to soften my dick, especially with the way her hips lazily wind against mine. Instinctively, I mimick her, and it turns into a nice grinding session. She’s essentially riding me, and it feels amazing, been that way since our first time all those years ago.

"You got more for me, Reigns?" Tori asks with a knowing smirk, and moans as my hands grip her gyrating backside to keep her down on my erection.

"What if I do, Milan?" I say in response, squeezing her ass, so round and soft in my hands. I could touch her all night, she feels so good.

"You better give it to me, then, cuz I want it," she orders me with another kiss, rocking her hips more persistently. I lean back and rest my arms behind my head in a relaxed position. “Well, baby, if you want it so bad, then take it,” I smirk.

She cocks her eyebrow and smiles, a silent acceptance of my challenge. Planting her palms against my chest, she lifts her knees off the bed and proceeds to ride me like her pussy is asking a question and my cock is the final answer. Her stamina has always impressed me, and the fact that she’s fucking me like this after a twenty-minute title match and one steamy round already, is fascinating. So I let her take what she wants, like I always do. Because I’ve never really known how to say no to her, and honestly?

I never want to.

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C4 Energy Drink photoshoot, New York

I know she can feel my eyes on her. She knows damn well how she should behave at a photoshoot. But she never listens to Daddy, and now I’m forced to act nonchalant as she lowers down with a barbell in a picture-perfect squat, surrounded by all these cameramen watching her poke her ass out, lusting over what’s mine. It makes me want to blow our cover and take her right in front of everybody in here, nosy-ass Bianca Belair included. I’m sorely tempted to, and maybe I will, before the shoot ends.

Forgive the desperation in my tone. We’ve been apart for two weeks as she had to be in San Diego for press while I was stuck at home in Miami, and the separation has driven me crazy. These days I’m much happier to be at work than back home, mainly because of a certain Smackdown Women’s champion, who has dropped the barbell and is now posing with one of the energy drinks. Why the fuck is she arching her back like that? These motherfuckers are practically salivating and I am fighting the urge to physically throw each and every one of them through the glass windows. After an eternity, the Director calls for a break and Tori stands up straight again. I wait for her to go to a secluded corner, and when our gazes meet through one of the stretched mirrors, that is my cue to go over to her.

Blocking her from everyone else’s view, I feel her jolt slightly when I press my front against her side. My hand runs up her hip and my tongue sweeps over her sweaty shoulder. The salty moisture doesn’t faze me; I’ve licked up her sweat many times before.

“You keep bending over like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” I growl in her ear.

“Hello to you too, Reigns. I see your eye-fucking skills have improved,” she tells me.

“So have yours,” I mumble, keeping my voice low as I pull her against my groin. “I've missed my baby girl. Did you miss Daddy, hmm?”

She turns her face towards me and raises an eyebrow. “I guess.” She’s acting nonchalant but the twinkle in her eye gives her away. She’s hot for me and I can prove it. I buck my hips into her, and to my satisfaction, she gasps a little as she feels the evidence of my arousal. The hand I put on her hip slides down to her round ass, my grip generous and possessive.

“Text me when you’re finished,” I instruct her.

She can only nod as I release her and walk away. I feel her eyes on me. The anticipation is making my dick hard, and I might need a cold shower to bring this bad boy down. I shake off all distractions by refocusing on the shoot. I choose to work out with a medicine ball, which is important not only for carrying motherfuckers in the ring, but also my girls when we fuck.

Yes, I said girls. This also includes my wife.

No, I don’t want to talk about it. And fuck you and your judgment.

I’m almost done shooting when my phone buzzes, and what I see when I open it dries up my throat.

Tori has taken a selfie, standing butt naked with her back to what looks like the mirror in a changing room. She’s angled the phone such that her fat, shapely ass is on full display. I look up and I’m just now realizing she’s no longer on set. A text message has accompanied the racy picture.

Come find me, Daddy. I dare you. 💦

I don’t take kindly to dares and she’s about to find that out. Excusing myself, I head for the men’s restroom only to take a sharp turn in the direction of the women’s changing room. Entering carefully, I ensure the coast is clear before heading to the showers. I hear only one running, and I know it’s Tori because Bianca is still outside. Quietly, I take off my clothes and put them aside. I take a peek through the curtain to confirm it’s her, and then rip it open, startling her.

“You really thought I wouldn’t, huh,” I growl, stepping inside and drawing the curtain back shut. I smirk at the gleam in her eyes as they flicker down to my hard dick.

"Guess I was wrong," Tori shrugs, gasping when I abruptly move her towards the shower wall. I pin her face-first against the tiled surface and grind against her round ass, kissing all the way along her shoulders and the back of her neck. I kick her feet wider apart and run my hands over her ass, massaging the fleshy mounds for a few seconds before spreading them open. Wasting no more time, I grab my dick and push into her sweet pussy, and she squirms against me.

"Don't make too much noise, and don’t fuckin’ move," I snarl in her ear. Gripping her waist roughly, I ram myself inside her, hard.

"Fuck,” Tori moans, her hands braced against the wall for leverage. I arch my back, bringing myself almost completely out of her, before driving back in. I stroke the pussy long and deep, my fingers digging into her hips. Despite my warnings, her moans are getting louder and louder, and I’m forced to cover her mouth with my hand.

"Shut up or we'll get caught,” I reply, my face buried in her neck, my breath thick against the goosebumps on her skin. In response, she arches her ass outwards, taking me deeper inside her. I remove my hand from her mouth to yank her head backwards. My dick swells at the way she stares back at me, her mouth open and panting, eyes bright with lust, mirroring my own. We tongue each other down, our kiss hot and urgent as I grind inside her, moaning into each other's mouths.

“Mmm, this pussy is so good, baby. So fuckin’ good,” I praise her, giving her backside an underhand smack, biting my lip when her pussy grips my dick nice and tight.

“Harder,” she whispers.

Letting out a groan of my own, I spank her again and then start pounding into her, the wet, smacking sound clashing with the running water. My hands glide up her wet skin to paw at her breasts, tugging her peaked nipples. Her body begins to tremble, her throaty moans threatening to undo me. I’m a hundred percent sure that anyone out there can hear us loud and clear, but I don’t care anymore. I need Tori Milan’s pussy like I need air.

"Shit, Roman," she gasps, her eyes in the back of her head as I fuck her into the wall with an intense speed and desperation. At this point I’m bereft of words, drowning in the sensations washing over me. Her head rocks back onto my tattooed shoulder as she gushes all over my cock. “Oh my god, fuck!” she groans.

I’m right behind her, in more ways than one. I only have a few more thrusts left in me before I explode, holding her tight, grunting into her neck as my hot cum fills her up, my dick emptying inside her quivering pussy. My head is spinning, the intensity of my release and the thrill of getting caught amplify the pleasure surging through me. Keeping her pinned in place, I rock my pelvis against her ass, riding out my nut, ensuring she takes every last drop of me. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I give her breasts a quick squeeze before I step away from her, smiling at her moan of protest when my dick slips out of her wet warmth. She turns around and leans against the wall, a dazed grin on her beautiful face.

"You were quick," she comments.

“You came, didn’t you?” I counter, and she smirks as she nods. “Good. That's all that matters.” I grab her chin and pull her to me, roughly shoving my tongue back into her mouth. Her body presses into mine as we kiss, and I’m not surprised to feel myself hardening against her wet skin - it’s almost scary how horny she makes me.

"If you want more, you know where to find me," I mumble against her lips, "Dirty little slut." With one final slap of her ass, I slip out of the shower, grabbing a towel along with my clothes to change back into them.

I’m almost at the exit when Bianca Belair rounds the corner and stops me in my tracks. Her eyes dart past me towards the showers and she smiles. “So that was y’all making all that noise,” she says.

My being in the women’s changing room nullifies any excuse I want to make, so I merely shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, so?”

Bianca raises an eyebrow. “You know she’s married, right? And so are you.”

If she thinks she can stand here and judge me, she’s got another thing coming. “Girl, you gonna stand here and act like you and Montez ain’t been swingin’ with Naomi and Jimmy?” I grin when her jaw slowly drops. Got yo ass. “Yeah bitch, I know all about that. I also know that since your man’s been injured and Naomi’s gone, you and Jimmy have been going at it…alone.” My laughter is cold and mirthless. “I mean, he won’t fuckin’ shut up about it. All he talks about is how good your mouth feels around his-”

“Fuck you! We’re consenting adults who have an arrangement,” she argues. “Unlike y’all, we’re not cheating!”

“Right, keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you learn to mind your business next time, I’ll mind mine.”

The smirk that clouds her features is one of defeat. “Asshole,” she bites.

“And don’t you forget it.” With that, I walk out, ignoring her accusing glare.

I don’t see what the big deal is. Nearly all my co-workers are fucking around on their partners in some shape or form. They’re either bored or lonely, and I happen to be both. The spark I had with Tracee is not there anymore, but leaving her is not an option, not anytime soon. Tori helps me forget all about the bullshit. She makes me feel really good and I’m not quite ready to give that all up either.

I’ll figure it out. I always do.

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Houston, Texas

Tori’s POV

The man breathing down my neck reminds me why I hate these fucking events. I’m forced to engage with people pretending to care about wrestling while they stare at my tits the whole time. A lot of them don’t take me seriously because my presentation is on the more…provocative side, which is fine by me. Yes, I'm sexy and glam. I back the flashiness up with my wrestling ability and my mic work, and I have a title to show for it. I’ve proved them all wrong and I’m proud of that. But more importantly, there’s someone who’s just as proud of me and he makes sure to tell me every chance he gets, at least when his mouth is not occupied with my pussy.

The Tribal Chief. The champ. Ol’ Demon Dick himself. All of those attributes means he is more than a little self-assured. Arrogant, really, to asshole-like proportions. Yet, it hasn’t stopped me from fucking him as regularly as I do. I mean, why would I? It’s Roman Reigns, a walking, talking, five course gourmet meal. Look at him now, all tall and dark and delicious in that suit as he engages with guests at our annual Summerslam fundraiser. Like, why the fuck would I turn all that down when it’s offered to me on a silver platter?

Ever since we first met in 2016, Roman and I have always vibed. There was an attraction there that we both acknowledged but never acted upon it. I suspect he was more spooked by our nine-year age difference than the fact that we were both with other people at the time. But we are adults and it was not a big deal to me. I’ve always liked my men older, more experienced, sexier…like Roman.

The pandemic brought us much closer. We spent about seven months in the same rehab center nursing similar injuries, with no visitors thanks to the lockdown. At first, we confided in each other about the pressures of the business we were in and how to overcome our setbacks together. But soon, our platonic conversations became more intimate, sexual, then led to crossing many lines that I’d been dying to cross. Kisses. Touches. Oral sex. As soon as we were both discharged, we met up to get it on for real. I’ll never forget that day, the anticipation that bubbled between my legs, the lust in his beautiful eyes as we finally indulged in forbidden fruit. For twenty-four hours, he fucked me in ways I don’t think I will ever experience with anyone else. He still fucks me like that; that’s why I still crave the depravity in our meetings. Crave the mild abuse he doles out occasionally as punishment for not letting him have me sooner. I crave his touch every day, both gentle and rough. I crave him.

It was early into our affair that he made the decision to switch up his wrestling character. We did a lot of brainstorming together, and I like to think that I inspired some aspects of the Head of the Table as we know it, the initial vibe and aesthetic of it. I think back to that first segment on Smackdown with him in that dark room, sitting in front of a mahogany desk like a Mafia boss as he addressed Jey Uso via satellite. Ironically he had bent me over that same desk in his study at his home just two days before that segment aired. So imagine my surprise to see an exact replica of the desk on TV. Or was it? Because the scratch marks I left on it while Roman was balls-deep in me were still there. I guess we will never know.

Amongst the sea of grifters, I catch sight of the other woman Roman fucks regularly. Her back is turned but I know it’s his wife. Tracee. She’s a pretty little thing. Not his type, but pretty nonetheless. I remember how happy she was on her wedding day and feeling pity for her, especially after her new husband still found time to come to my room after the reception. And speaking of husband…

Caleb is next to me, looking around like he’s discovered a goldmine. He’s been all up in my ear for weeks about coming to the fundraiser to meet with bigwigs to help kickstart his advertising business. I should be more supportive of my husband’s endeavors, but his misplaced optimism is not for me. And the last thing I want is him talking to Roman about anything. But as though on cue, my side piece begins to approach us. I take a closer look at his wife, and I can’t stop my eyes from bugging out of my head at the sight of her protruding belly.

What the actual fuck.

“Hi Tori, my wife has been wanting to meet you. Tracee, this is Tori Milan. Tori, this is my wife Tracee," Roman introduces us, looking slightly uncomfortable as he nudges her towards me.

Performing in the WWE has improved my acting skills. I invoke all of it now as I stick out my hand and flash my best Women’s Champion smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Tracee,” I grind out.

"Hi Tori! Oh wow, you’re much prettier in person!” Tracee clamors. "I’ve been watching Smackdown more regularly and I think you’re amazing!"

“Thank you for supporting me! I really appreciate it,” I lie. “And congratulations on your…” I can’t bring myself to say it, gesturing at her stomach instead.

“Oh, thank you! Roman and I are so excited!” She gazes up adoringly at her husband whose expression is anything but. She returns her attention to me. “You look so nice! And I absolutely adore your perfume, what’s it called?” Her smile is wide and cheery.

I force myself to oblige her, moments away from throwing up. I can feel Roman’s eyes trying to search mine but I refuse to look at him. He’s got me fucked up if he thinks I have anything to say to him. After my tight conversation with Tracee, I quickly usher Caleb to his seat and join Hunter on stage to address the audience. As we present a video package commemorating WWE’s charitable efforts, Roman stands about a foot away from me. I need the distance, because despite everything I’ve just discovered, my body still burns for him. I still want him and I hate it.

My bad mood continues well into the night. I ignore Roman the entire time, stewing over his insensitivity. I’m still in disbelief and I don’t know what to make of it. Of course I know he has sex with his wife, but to see evidence of it, and for him to let me find out like this is callous and heartbreaking.

“The guy with the bald head. Triple H, right? I wanna go talk to him.”

This is about the tenth stupid comment Caleb is making tonight, and I swear I’m seconds away from excusing myself from the party and leaving him behind. “That’s my fucking boss you’re referring to,” I snarl.

“He’s your boss? Oh. Thought it was Vince,” he says sheepishly, sitting up higher in his seat. “Do you think you could introduce us?”

“Babe, we’re at a social function trying to get money!” I snap, irritated. “Do you want me to interrupt his discussion with the COO of Snickers because you want him to see your portfolio?”

Caleb bristles, clearly wondering what is up my ass. “What kind of wife are you? I’m trying so hard to get my business up and running and you’ve shown no interest. Why did you bother to bring me here if you weren’t gonna help me out?”

“Because you wanted to be here so bad, Caleb! You! You would never have let me hear the end of it if I didn't let you come!”

"So, you saying I need your permission now?"

I start to raise my voice, but pause when I realize a few people are already staring in our direction. An exasperated sigh escapes me. “I can’t do this right now. Not in front of all these people.”

“Of course you can’t. Can’t make the great Tori Milan look bad in front of her fans. When’s the last time you didn’t have to pretend you want to be around me?” Caleb accused.

At this juncture, I’m incensed. All I can do is point towards the entrance. “That’s the way out. If you have plans to ruin my night, then leave. Someone will take you back to the hotel if you ask. Bye.” Without waiting for his response, I stand up from the table and march towards the women’s restroom, shutting myself in as I let the tears spill from my eyes.

I have no idea when the fighting started between my husband and me. Actually, I’m lying. I do. But instead of making things right, I run to Roman, because it’s easier for me; we don’t argue, and we do most of our talking in bed. Caleb and I are drifting apart because of me. I barely let him touch me, and when I do, I’m thinking about Roman. I truly wish it wasn’t this way, but I’m too far gone now.

Fuck.

I hear the bathroom door open and I quickly dry my eyes. No one should see me like this. I have a bitchy badass reputation to uphold. “I’ll be right out,” I call out, freezing when Roman enters and shuts the door behind him. He raises his hands at the look on my face. “I come in peace,” he says.

“You shouldn’t even be in here.”

“You’ll be a’ight.” He pauses and gives me a long look. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“Gee, Roman, would you like to take a guess?” My blood simmers and I shake my head. “When exactly did you plan on telling me she’s having your kid?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused.

I recoil, blinking rapidly. “What do I mean? Don’t you think I should’ve been clued in at least?”

“Clued in, and then what? You wanna come to the baby shower? Buy her a present? I fucked my lawfully wedded wife and now she’s pregnant. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

That’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up and he knows it. “Maybe you could have told me so I can decide my next course of action. I may be champion but ain’t no way even I can compete with a wife and a baby and your already crazy schedule.”

“Stop being dramatic. You know I’ll always have time for you.” He licks his lips as he scans me from head to toe. “I’ve been staring at you all night, baby girl. I knew this dress would be pretty on you when I bought it. You look beautiful.”

“Don’t change the subject, Roman. And ain’t your wife outside?”

“Nope, she’s gone, just like your man is. So for the rest of the night, my focus is on you. Focus on me, Tori.” He steps closer to me but I back away.

“No, I can't focus! It’s one thing to hear about your wife when she blows up your phone. It’s another thing to see her in the flesh, carrying your child, I might add, with my husband in the same vicinity.”

“So what are you trying to say?”

“What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“You’re spooked, I get it,” he assesses, “But we’ve come this far and no one knows a thing. You’re panicking over nothing.”

First of all, Bianca knows about us. I'm pretty sure his cousins know, maybe even Heyman. Second, his arrogance astounds me. He’s about to become a whole father, and he’s acting like he has everything under control and I’m not sure how true that is. “I should go,” I mutter, trying to walk past him, but his huge frame blocks my path, shielding my only escape.

“Baby girl, don’t let this fuck up what we got. I need you,” he pleads.

“And what do we got, Roman? Hmm? I’m your mistress and you’re my side man.”

“Relax. Just relax, okay? Look at me.” He takes my hands into his and presses his forehead to mine, our noses touching. His eyes are loaded with desire, and I know what’s coming. He leans in and brushes his lips against mine, and fireworks explode inside me. His hands slide down to squeeze my butt as he deepens the kiss. I place my hands on his chest and try to plead my case.

“Ro, someone might walk in…”

Without a word, he steps back and locks the door, then returns to me. Pulling me in, he kisses me again, harder, and I sigh as his arms wrap tight around me. Everything else fades away except for this moment, and the feel of his hands on me, and his lips on mine as we moan greedily into each other’s mouths, making each other feel things that neither of us should be feeling.

Still kissing me, he lifts me off my feet, his big hands grasping my ass, and sets me on the edge of the sink, wedging his huge body between my legs. I love how I feel in his arms. He’s a big man with big features - hands, mouth, penis, everything - and he engulfs and encroaches all of me in the best way possible. He gathers my dress up to my waist, and I fight back a moan as he weaves his hand inside my panties.

“Damn baby, you’re wet already,” he remarks, his breath warm on my face. “Is this for me or Caleb?”

“You, Daddy. Of course it’s you,” I breathe, my hips jerking when his thumb brushes my highly sensitive clit. His long fingers tease my slit, rubbing up and down and making me gasp for air.

“You like that, baby? You want more?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t you ever ignore or avoid me again.”

Suddenly, he moves his fingers away and steps back. I pout as I glare at him, my pussy clenching with the need to be filled. “Baby…”

The corner of Roman’s lips twitches as he gauges my frustration. “Aw, what’s wrong? You don’t like it when I don’t give you what you want?” he taunts.

“No,” I admit, reaching out and pulling him back between my spread thighs. Placing a finger under my chin, he raises my face to his, looking me in my eyes.

“Nothing changes between us, Tori. Nothing. You’re mine, period. Do you understand me, baby girl?” he murmurs softly, placing a tender kiss at the corner of my mouth.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes Daddy. I understand,” I correct myself, shivering when I see the heat in his dark eyes.

“Good. Now tell Daddy you’re sorry for blowing up on him.”

I rub his shoulders apologetically. “I’m sorry, Daddy. It won’t happen again.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss him slowly, deeply, using my mouth and tongue to show him just how sorry I am. I smile proudly at his slightly dazed countenance as he pulls away, a sheen of our joint saliva coating his lips.

“Apology accepted. Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood. Open your legs wider so I can take what’s mine,” he commands.

My giggle is giddy as I do as I’m told. He preps me by rubbing my folds again, and I groan a little louder than I should. Roman covers my mouth with his, swallowing every sound he coaxes out of me. His lips leave mine for a split second, and then he slowly breaches my entrance with two long fingers.

“You like that baby? Like my fingers deep in you?” he asks, pumping them inside me.

“Yes, Daddy…Fuck…”

“I know you do. You’re such a slut for me. I’ve taught you so well all these years. God I wanna taste you, T. Wanna fuck you so bad.”

We both know he can’t because he’ll definitely be kissing up on his wife later tonight, and tasting me on his tongue or his dick will not end well. He has to make do with his fingers, which he is doing spectacularly. Heat spreads through my body and my eyes flutter shut, head thrown back as I ache for more, I always ache for more of Roman Reigns.

“Naw baby, open your eyes. Look at me when you get off.”

Obediently, my eyes snap open, locking with his. I study his gorgeous face, the lust glittering in his eyes, the tension in his bearded jaw. I lean in for a passionate kiss, our tongues dancing in time with his thrusting fingers, my hips arching into his hand. He hooks my leg over his arm to open me up some more. At the same time, his fingers scissor inside me, short-circuiting my brain. I’m so close I can taste it. His hazy gaze bores into mine, and we both moan as my pussy squeezes around his fingers, lost to the sensations his touch is bringing forth within me. His middle finger curls inside me, and I cry out, a long, broken, high-pitched sob as I finally come undone, flooding his fingers with my cum.

He slides the digits out of me and puts them in my mouth, making me suck off my own juices. He then tilts my face up to kiss me, and we lick and nip the seams of each other’s lips, the wet, erotic sounds ringing around the restroom. My hand sneaks down between our bodies and I cup him through his slacks. His hard-on is raging, twitching in my grasp, and I smile and begin to stroke him. He inhales sharply and eases my hand away.

“What about you?” I ask, as he sets me back down on my feet. To no surprise, my legs are wobbly and I have to lean against him for support.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. Before I can ask any more questions, he turns me toward the mirror and helps me tidy up my hair and makeup. He washes his hands, doing his best to rid his fingers of my scent. “I’ll text you,” he tells me.

I may not hear from him for another hour, or tomorrow, or next week or even next year. But I nod my head anyway, because anytime I can have him, I’ll happily take it. He leans down and kisses my lips one more time before turning to unlock the door and slips out. I watch him leave, my face flushed and I touch my kiss-swollen lips. I can still feel his fingers inside me, and my thighs squeeze together as I close my eyes with a blissful sigh, treasuring the memory.

-----------

London, England

I’ve never been this excited to be in a foreign country. As the champions of Smackdown, Roman and I are across the pond promoting the next premium live event, and for the first time in a month, we’re together and more importantly, all alone. For four whole days, we can do whatever we want, and you can guess exactly what we’re doing now.

Our makeout sessions are the best. Roman is relaxed on a plush armchair in my incredibly fancy hotel room, with me straddling him. My hands are in his hair as my lips slide lazily against his, while he runs his hands up and down my nearly naked body. We’ve been like this for about ten minutes and every second has been heavenly.

“You’re such a good kisser, babe,” he compliments me, and groans at my little show of dominance when I hold him by the throat and scoop his tongue right back into my mouth. He keeps playing with my g-string and rocking me against his erection, trying to get me to fuck, but I’m not ready yet. We have time. I just want to savor him for a bit.

“Do you ever get tired of having sex?” I wonder, "We did quite a bit on the jet coming here."

“I ain’t hear you complain one time,” he answers with another charged kiss, fingering my waist beads. “And with pussy as amazing as yours? Never.” He grins arrogantly and squeezes my breast. “Obviously, with a dick like mine, neither do you.”

“Good point,” I murmur, licking my way down his naked body until I’m on my knees on the floor. Grabbing said dick, I jerk him off for a couple of seconds, and then go to town. I love the way he feels in my mouth - thick and rock hard and veiny. I drag my lips down the length of him, then come back up to lick the tip, right over his slit. Roman caresses the back of my head, his lust-filled gaze fixated on my actions. “Mmmm, fuck, baby girl,” he groans, his voice deep and thick with pleasure.

I love giving Roman head. There’s so much of him to play with and he tastes incredible. I take him deeper down my throat, letting him stretch my lips. Listening to his gasps and groans is making me so wet that I’m forced to take off my g-string in the middle of the blowjob, tossing the scrap of material onto his chest. He holds it up to his nostrils and moans out loud, and he twitches in my hand, meaning he’s even more turned on. I stroke and suck him diligently, never letting up, my head bobbing up and down. His abs are visibly crunching as I spit all over his dick and suck around the saliva, making that shit sloppy. As I roll his balls in the palm of my other hand, he tilts his head back, cursing and moaning my name. He hardens in my grip and I know he’s about to come. It feels good to know I can please him like this. I love to please my man. My sweet, sexy man.

His phone rings. It's Tracee on FaceTime.

I don't know what comes over me. I snatch his phone and throw it at him, right onto his tattooed pec. If I've injured him, I don't give a fuck.

“Your pregnant wife,” I announce bitterly, hopping to my feet. Throwing on my dashiki, I stomp away, keeping my distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him hurry into his clothes before leaving my room entirely. Smart move. She’ll know it’s not his suite if he stays. Sitting on my bed, I notice my own phone has a text message. My heart jolts when I see Caleb's name, and then breaks as I read his message.

Love you 😘. Miss you 😢😚

Inexplicably, tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. Not for the first time, I feel ridiculous for putting myself in this position yet again.

Of course I know that sleeping with another woman’s husband is wrong. I have a whole ass husband of my own! But Roman and I have spent years joined at the hip now - or at least at the genitals - and my body has gotten used to it. When we are together, it’s magic, and when we are apart, it’s torture. I love Caleb, I do. But sometimes being with him just isn't enough. I need to be fucked by great dick, not just good dick. I need god tier dick, which is Roman’s. I need a man who treats me in bed the way I so desperately need to be treated. The way Roman treats me. The way he obviously treats his wife.

Damn, this sucks.

About half an hour later there's a knock on my door, and it’s him again. Once I open, I immediately head outside to the balcony, not wanting to speak to him right now. The vibe is gone and I’m no longer in the mood. Roman decides to not read the room and comes up from behind me, resting his hulking frame on my back, his huge arms enveloping my midriff. I let him hold me, not saying one word, trying to concentrate on the fresh summer air and not the lingering fact that I am not the one he truly belongs to.

“You’re in your own head again,” Roman breaks the silence, his words a murmur against my temple.

“Am I?” I counter. I spread my hands apart on the railing of the balcony, glaring down at the pool below.

“Yes. We both agreed on what this was.”

I let out an unladylike snort. “Did we? Did we ever have a discussion about going our separate ways to be with other people? I don’t recall.”

He groans and throws up his hands. “Oh for fuck’s sake, are we doing this again?”

“Are you being serious right now?” I say angrily, seeing red.

“It’s the fuckin' flip-flopping for me, Tori. You do it all the time. One minute, you have no problem sneaking around with me. One minute you’re all over me and the next minute you want nothing to do with me and you're making excuses.”

After all this time, he still doesn’t get it. “Oh, and you’re not the same?” I argue, “You don’t go running back to her and ignore me for days on end, then text me from outta nowhere asking me to come suck your dick?”

Roman looks at me with what looks like exasperation. “Tori, you know I have to go back to her. She is my wife. And you have Caleb-”

“And whose fault is that?” I yell, rounding on him, my fists clenched. “Who went off with someone else when we should have been together from the start? It should have been you and me, but you fucked it up for some other bitch! You left me high and dry, Roman! You did that! You're the reason I live like this and I hate it!”

The words come out before I can stop them. The air thickens with uncomfortable silence. When the haze of red finally clears from my eyes, I cringe at his pained expression.

“I’m sorry, Tori,” he says, his tone resigned.

Sighing heavily, I turn back around and sling my braids over my shoulder, too frustrated and mentally exhausted to say anything else.

Behind me, I sense his hesitation. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” I shake my head, hating myself for being so weak for him. I can’t even bring myself to fight him when his arms come around me again, his fingers linking with mine and my words hang over us like a dark cloud.

“I told you before. I’m here for you, T,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m not going anywhere. My focus will always be on you when we’re together.”

When we’re together. Not all the time, like a normal relationship should be. It’s no coincidence that we’ve been seeing each other less and less lately, and I know it’s because of her pregnancy. The entire thing is so draining. I know I should walk away, I do. But this man has me wrapped around his finger and I really don’t want him to let me go.

He moves his hands to my breasts as he brushes his mouth over my neck, his beard tickling my skin. “You went off on me again. I warned you about that,” he growls. “I guess you want me to fuck that attitude outta you...again.”

“Fuck you,” I growl back, biting my lip as his bulge throbs against my behind. He lifts the back of my dashiki with enough force to cause friction against my skin. He groans when he finds nothing but my waist beads and smacks my bare ass in appreciation. I moan with him.

“I want my pussy, Tori. Give it to me,” he demands, pulling off his t-shirt.

My response is immediate. “Take it Daddy, it’s yours.”

“All mine?”

And just like that, Caleb and Tracee no longer exist. “Uh huh,” I gasp, grinding back on his erection as proof. He tugs my dashiki over my head and lets it drop to the ground. His hands creep down between my legs, palming my sex as I moan again.

“Mmm, drippin' for Daddy as usual. I love how wet you get when you’re pissed off.”

My pussy ripples against his fingers rubbing up and down the moist folds, spreading my essence all over his hand. I hear his shorts drop. He then groans deeply as he uses my wetness to lube his shaft. My loins clench at the neediness in his voice, and at the lewd sound of him stroking himself behind me. He bends me over the railing and rubs his tip along my opening. With a handful of my ass cheek in his other hand, he pushes all the way inside me, meeting my hilt. He pumps into me with slow, deep, deliberate thrusts, claiming me, making me his. I squeeze the railing with a death grip as my eyes water. I feel like my breath is being stolen away, the sensation made even hotter as we're stark naked and out in the open air.

“Unnnnhh…” I can’t help but whine. He's so big and he feels so good.

He rewards me with a wet kiss on my neck. "That's it, baby, watch this beautiful sunset while I fuck my pussy." He gathers my braids in his fist and pulls my head back as he pipes me down with that amazing dick, his powerful thighs colliding with the flesh of my ass. "Hmm. Good girl. Such a good baby girl."

I love the dick. That’s it. I’m definitely not in love with its owner. Because I already love another man, and it’s impossible to love two men at the same time.

Right?

————----

Roman’s POV

My body is stirred awake by the intense, pleasurable sensation in my groin area. Morning head is goated, especially when done right. And Tori gets it so fucking right. I love how she can’t get enough of me. It helps that I just had a nice dream in which she was throwing that fat ass back on me on a private beach in the Maldives. We need to go back some other time, it was great.

“Mmm, damn, T, don’t stop,” I rumble, my eyes remaining shut as pleasure takes over. Her mouth is all the way down my dick, sucking my meat off the bone and it feels so damn good.

“I won’t, Daddy.”

Hold up.

That is not the T I’m expecting.

My eyes fly open at the familiar voice. Sure enough, there lies my wife between my legs, deep-throating my cock. I forgot that I’m back home and not in L.A. where I last left Tori. I don’t expect to soften because I’m already so close. To her credit, Tracee is going off on me in a way she never has before. She’s doing all the right things, spitting on my dick and licking it all up, taking every inch of me down her throat while squeezing my balls. I didn’t expect this from her at all. She’s even looking at me while sucking me off, something she never does unless I make her.

I’m up on my hands now, fully sitting, my breathing out of control as she sucks and strokes me harder. “Fuck, oh my god,” I’m about to come, and come real hard. I grab the back of her head and buck my hips, fucking her warm mouth and fucking it hard. My head rocks backwards as I release all my load down her throat with an elated moan. She swallows every drop and proceeds to lick me clean with her tongue before releasing my dick.

Goddamn.

“You okay?” Tracee asks, watching my chest rise and fall.

I swallow, attempting to wet my dry throat. “Yeah, just caught off-guard,” I admit. “That was unexpected, in a good way, of course. You’ve never done that before.”

Tracee smiles. “Glad you liked it. I had a great teacher.” She plays a video on her phone and raises it up to my face.

It’s a closeup of Tori with my dick in her mouth.

I made that recording last month when we were in Saudi Arabia for Crown Jewel and I thought I had deleted it. Immediately I try to deny it’s me, but Tracee knows exactly what my cock looks like. Also the tribal tattoos on the hand grabbing Tori’s hair give me away. More embarrassingly, the sound of my voice, praising her and urging her on between moans, rings loudly around the bedroom, making me cringe. Before I can lunge for the phone, Tracee has already scooted out of my reach, climbing off the bed as she glowers at me.

“Took me quite a while to hack into your phone, but I did it,” she informs me. “Airdropped all your shit. The dick pics, her naked selfies, the nasty ass videos.” She shakes her head, her smile cold and vindictive. “Given your track record, I always suspected you were fucking around on me, even before we got married. I confirmed it at that charity gala back in August. You and that tramp made googly eyes at each other all night. On top of that, she smelled exactly like you do whenever you come home. How old is that girl, Roman? She is at least ten years younger than you, you dirty, nasty fuck!"

Nine, actually. But I stay silent, allowing her to vent. Let her get it out of her system so we can move forward with this.

“Oh, and lest I forget, she’s married!” Tracee continues. “I wonder what her husband will think about all of this. Unless he knows and ain’t saying shit. He screams ‘doormat’, so that won’t surprise me. But what is it with you and cheating, huh? You cheated on the last bitch before me, too. Does the thrill of destroying people’s lives turn you on? Does your fucktoy even know she's next? Maybe I should tell her-”

“Stop it, Tracee,” I cut her off. She’s crossing the line.

She laughs childishly at my warning. “Let me guess, you told her you love her, too. Have you filled her head with that bullshit like you did with me? Answer me, Roman. Do you love her? Or is it all about the young nubile pussy I don’t have anymore?”

I swear the answer is on the tip of my tongue. That I don’t love Tori. That this is just a phase I’ll soon get over. But all that comes out of my mouth after several uncomfortable seconds is, “I don’t know.”

Tracee gapes at me in complete disbelief. “You don’t know,” she repeats, letting out a bitter, mirthless laugh. “You know, you are an absolute piece of work. I’m six fucking months pregnant with your kid and you’re fucking another bitch when you should be home with me, taking care of me! Tryna eat your cake and have it! Grow the fuck up, Roman, and face your responsibilities!”

Tracee and I are not perfect, even though I constantly tried to convince her that I was. We both have quirks but we always picked up where the other was a little weaker. But now she has seen through all of the BS and has realized I’ve been the weak one all along. I won’t lie, it dents my ego.

“Oh, and if you think I’m divorcing you so you can run off with your little slut, you got another thing coming,” my wife says matter-of-factly. “Unlike you, I’m not a quitter, and I refuse to raise my child in a single parent home. You have until tonight to end it with your whore, or I post everything I have online, and your fans will finally see you and your side bitch for the lying, cheating scumbags y’all are.”

The look in her eyes tells me there is no room for negotiation. Not that I ever expected one. She pats the top of my head like I’m her pet and walks away. “Good luck, sweetie.”

-------------

Tori’s POV

It’s barely eight in the morning, but it already feels like the worst day of my life.

My hands are shaking, my eyes are blurry with tears as I stare at my phone, terrified, watching my life flash before my eyes with every number that ticks by. My doomsday is finally here, and it’s been coming. If it’s what I think it is, how the fuck am I going to break this to Caleb?

The knock on my door startles me so bad I almost hit the roof of my apartment. Composing myself, I go over to the door and it’s the absolute last person I want to see right now. I try to hide.

“T, open up! I know you’re in there!”

Of course he sees me. He knows about the faulty peephole on the door. He also sounds deadly serious. Reluctantly, I open the door and cross my arms. I eye down my lover, inwardly chastising the stirring in my loins. His gray sweatpants and tank top show off everything that needs to be shown off. But his grim expression warns me that he’s not here for sexy time. This is more apparent when he storms past me without even a greeting.

“Are you alright?” I ask him, watching him pace around my living room like a madman. Something is up.

“Tracee knows,” is all he says.

Shit. “Bianca?” I’m gonna beat that bitch’s ass.

“No. She said she’s known since Summerslam.” He looks at me. I can tell he hasn’t slept well in a while. He doesn't sleep as well without me. “I just wanted to let you know to brace yourself. Maybe clue up your husband too. She is coming after me with all guns blazing and it’s not going to be pretty.”

Fuck! Caleb will hang me out to dry the minute he finds out, and it’s going to destroy me. But I’m Tori motherfucking Milan. I’m the champ, the best female wrestler in the world, and nobody threatens me. “I can handle myself, homie. You tell your wife to calm her ass down.”

“I think we're way past that now.” He pauses, glancing down for a second before looking back at me. “She asked me if I loved you.”

I smirk and roll my eyes. “I bet she did.”

“I said I don’t know.”

I almost fall over in shock. “What the fuck! Why would you say that?”

“I didn’t want to lie to her. I’ve already lied enough as it is.”

“Lie? What do you mean, lie?” My heart is pounding. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Now is not the time to be a fucking mute, Reigns, answer me!”

“I may have caught feelings, okay?” he blurts out, his expression utterly helpless. “It stopped being about the sex a long time ago. I just like being around you, being there for you. You make me feel good, T, and not just sexually, ya know. You understand me, you care about me, we have a connection that feels way deeper than just sex.” He stops himself, as if realizing he’s said too much. He bows his head, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair. “It’s okay if you don't feel the same. I’m the one who fucked up and crossed the line.”

“I caught feelings too,” I confess, and his eyes soften, “But it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. Not when we’re both married and she’s about to have your baby...”

Baby...

Oh shit!

Right on cue, the timer goes off on my phone. I flash a panicked glance Roman’s way.

Oh god.

Shutting off the alarm, my legs feel like jelly as I sidle over to the kitchen table. I feel Roman close behind me, wondering what’s going on. My hands are shaking and my heart pounds as I pick up the white stick, moments away from changing my life, forever. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I slowly open my eyes, locking on the words that stare back at me. Wordlessly, I show Roman the result.

Not pregnant.

“Jesus,” he breathes, wiping his brow.

I shouldn’t be offended by his sigh of relief, but I am. “Yeah, close call, right? You don’t gotta deal with me anymore than you have to,” I gripe.

“Don’t be like that. If you were pregnant, I’da taken care of you and my baby, no questions asked.”

“It coulda been Caleb’s.”

Roman scoffs. “Please. The kid would definitely have been mine. I nut in you almost every time we fuck. You got some black magic in that pussy.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? Cuz it sucked.” I take another deep breath. Honestly, I’m ecstatic. I’m not ready for motherhood. Not yet, not when I’m having the best year of my career. “We should end this, Roman. This right here is a wake up call,” I say, waving the negative test for emphasis.

“We should,” he agrees. I hate the way my heart sinks and my eyes sting, but it’s the truth.

“We’ve hurt a lot of people with our actions,” I soldier on, trying to talk sense into both of us.

He takes a step closer to me. “We have. But the person I hurt the most is you.”

He is the most unserious motherfucker in the world, saying all of this while staring me down with the hungriest expression. “Roman, please don’t look at me like that,” I beg.

“Like how?” He tugs me into his arms.

“Like you wanna eat me.”

I should have reassessed my words, because his eyes grow even darker. “Baby girl, you don’t know the half of it,” he whispers, caressing the side of my face as he gazes deep into my eyes. He kisses my cheek, breathing me in, and then, my lips. I melt into nothingness. He grabs the back of my neck and deepens the kiss with his tongue swirling with mine, and I’m taken back in time to our very first kiss, on the hospital’s rooftop, filled with promises we knew would be broken, but choosing to dive in anyway. It was just like this - hot and devouring and passionate, like we are each other’s oxygen and we’re dying to breathe.

A sudden realization has me reeling, causing my hands to trail up his muscular shoulders and then settle on his handsome face, holding onto him for dear life.

Roman Reigns is my oxygen. I can't breathe without him.

He pulls away from me, holding my gaze with his dark eyes. “You’re so fuckin' beautiful,” he mumbles, giving me a softer kiss that curls my toes.

“You were right. I shoulda been with you from the jump, all those years ago. I blew it, and now here I am, married to someone that's not you, having a baby with someone that's not you. I know I should try to be better with Tracee and be happy with her." He swallows hard and his chin quivers. The badass Undisputed Heavyweight Champion, right now, he is not. "But I love you. I'm in love with you and I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. But I can't have you and it's my fault and I have to live with it.”

“Roman…” The tears I've been fighting back fall. He’s killing me. I am so weak right now.

His voice is small and soft and heartbreaking as he clings to me, almost as if I’m his lifeline. “Teach me how to resist you, Tori,” he implores me. “Teach me, please. I’ve tried and failed a hundred times already.”

We’re in the same boat then, because I don’t know how to resist him. I’m caught up in so much emotion and it’s overwhelming. “I love you too. But we have to stop. It’s the right thing to do,” I choke out one more time, unconvincing even to my own ears.

Roman chuckles, the sound weighty with defeat. “I know. You right,” he assures me. His thumb brushes across my bottom lip, swollen from his kiss, and he smiles as I shiver. “I'll back off,” he promises, a defiant look in his eyes as he suddenly lifts me in his arms and carries me over to the sofa, “Tomorrow,” he adds with a growl.

I’m aware of the hole we’ve dug for ourselves, and if I’m going to get us out, I have to tell him "no" a little more firmly. I need to show a little more self control. Instead, I’m helping him undress and he's doing the same to me. I should be pushing him off, but I wrap my arms and legs around him and accept his branding kiss. Ending our affair may be the right thing, but nothing has ever felt as right to me as being in Roman’s arms. If this is indeed the last time I get to be with him, I plan on going out with a bang, literally.

We’ll do the right thing tomorrow, I guess.

THE END

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Sorry it's so long! I hope you like it!

Please leave comments. I love comments!

Banner made by me. Credit to owners of the pics and gifs.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #wwe #the bloodline #roman reigns x you

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molinashimbos · 3 years

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besties while making an edit i realized this looked really funny fast forward and I've been laughing at this for the past 5 mins so enjoy <3

#maybe its just me and my very Tired brain #ANYWAYS #shjsnsksns #fast caleb my beloved #jatp #julie and the phantoms #netflixwewantjatp2 #luke patterson #julie molina #alex mercer #reggie peters #rish rambles #caleb covington

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paladinsbrainrot · 3 years

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Who are the New Cast Members? (Character Breakdown)

Recently we were blessed with more Stranger Things content, which includes the new cast members for Stranger Things 4. I will leave the link to the tweet here. You can have a look through the thread.

A while back, Stranger Things had introduced a couple other characters to the mix, Victor Creel, Argyle (surname still unknown), Peter Ballard, Lt. Colonel Sullivan, Jason Carver, Dmitri & Yuri (surnames also unknown), and Eddie Munson. You can check out the original thread here.

However, they have introduced new characters, such as Vickie, Patrick, Ms. Kelly, and Chrissy. All of the surnames are unknown at the moment (unless Ms. Kelly’s last name is actually Kelly). I wonder what this tells us about the characters.

I believe these characters are going to have a minor role in the show. Unless they reveal the characters last names during the show, or they have a last name which will thicken the plot and don’t want to reveal it just yet, (aka one of them has the last name of ‘Brenner’,) characters with no last name usually don’t have a large role. For example, Suzie, Carol, Tommy, Bruce, Keith, etc..

This is not to say that they won’t have a large role in the series. Of course, they might end up like Robin. Her last name was not mentioned during the show, and was only revealed during a set of tweets that the Stranger Things Twitter made. Robin was essential during the season. Stranger Things can definitely twist and turn their bible and ‘make their own rules’.

Anyways, I’ll be breaking down all of the characters today, just going over my predictions and everything. If I feel like it, I might break down the other characters which were announced later previously.

Let's get started, shall we?

1. Vickie

This first character is Vickie, portrayed by Amybeth McNulty (aka Anne from Anne with an E)

She is described as ‘a cool, fast talking band nerd who catches the eye of one of our beloved heroes.’

Now, before we talk about Vickie’s personality, let’s talk a little bit about Amybeth herself. Amybeth is 19 years old, so I can only assume she is going to be playing one of the teens (Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan) considering how Maya Hawke (Robin) was 19 when she started filming for Stranger Things 3.

Of course, she could be one of the freshmans in Hawkins High, considering some of the other actors are 19 (Sadie, Caleb) however I really don’t think she is going to be part of the cast, or make her way into the party. The party is already large enough, so I believe they will add her to the addition of teens.

Now, let’s move on to Vickie’s character. She is a ‘cool, fast talking band nerd’. To me, this description is very similar to Robin’s. In season three, Robin is depicted as ‘awesome’ and ‘cool’ by Dustin. Robin is also very fast talking, constantly with a lot on her mind. And in addition, Robin even claims she is a nerd and is a part of band class.

It also stated that Vickie ‘catches the eye for one of our beloved heroes’. I believe they are talking about Robin. Now, we have all been obsessed with the possibility of Robin and Nancy becoming a thing in season four, but have we considered the likelihood of Robin falling for someone who is just like her?

I am pretty sure Nancy is straight (at most, bisexual), and I believe she will continue her relationship with Jonathan. However, there is still a possibility.

Now, there have been rumors that Vickie will be Will’s new girlfriend, since her description does not list ‘Hawkins’ like Chrissy’s and Patrick’s. However, I believe that Vickie will be a Hawkins resident.

I think the possibility of Vickie being Will’s love interest is very unlikely. It will be queer-baiting, and will most likely cause havoc amongst many Byler fans and people who think Will is gay. I will be very disappointed if this does happen.

Not to mention, Will doesn’t strike me as the ‘band’ type.

Moving on, Vickie is probably going to be the one out of the four to have at least a big role this season, via this instagram post. I have a feeling that she is going to be big based on this post, but the other characters.. not so much. I think the others would have gotten their own dedicated video if they were going to be as important.

There was also a leaked audition in this Youtube video (audition starts at 5:22)

During the audition tape, it seems like she is speaking to Robin. And when she is, she uses the term ‘crazy’. If you have been following me for a while, you will have known about the iconic phrase ‘Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And that’s damn stupid.’

So yes, I believe whoever Vickie is talking to will be her love interest. And if this does turn out to be a romantic relationship, then Byler will be too, considering how the whole scene parallels to the ‘crazy together’ scene.

Amybeth McNulty also follows Maya Hawke on Instagram, once again giving more evidence to back up Vickie and Robin’s close bond.

2. Patrick

The next character is Patrick, who is played by Myles Truitt. He is depicted as ‘a Hawkins basketball star who has friends, talent, and a good life…until shocking events send his life spiraling out of control.’

Myles is 19 years old, (February 1, 2002) and also has a possibility of being one of the teens as well. However, I believe in the show he will be around the same age as the Party, if not one or two years older.

Myles will be set in Hawkins, and probably won’t travel out of it for the season. He is described as a basketball star, and with rumors of Lucas being apart of the basketball team, I believe he will be one of Lucas’ new friends. Not to mention, Caleb and Myles actually have met and worked together prior to Stranger Things, which is probably a big part in why Myles got the role. Since they have worked together, it is likely Caleb and Myles will work together again because of the casting.

Myles has also been spotted on set a couple months back, with Natalia, Joseph (Eddie Munson), Caleb, Gaten, and Maya. I believe the ‘until shocking events send his life spiraling out of control’ lets us assume that Patrick will be involved in the Upside Down drama.

With the addition of twelve new cast members, I think at least five of them are going to die. I am not certain about Patrick’s death, however he will definitely deal with some trauma. It seems that he is going to be spiraling out of control, which leads me to believe he will experience PTSD (actual PTSD, not the ones Will experienced), or some form of mental illness. (Not too sure, maybe panic attacks as well? Seems likely to me)

There had been an audition leaked for Patrick, it is in this YouTube video. (Audition starts 3:47)

I’m not going to get into too much detail since I will be discussing this character later, but I think that the student that went missing is Chrissy.

Not a whole lot of info is released in the audition tape, however we do get an insight on Patrick’s personality. He seems quite serious, and is very concerned about this ‘missing student’.

3. Ms. Kelly

I don’t have a lot to say about this character. She seems incredibly minor, and I don’t think we will see a lot of her in this season. If anything, she’s probably going to be like Mr. Clarke and have a small role, but set a plot point.

Ms. Kelly is portrayed by Regina Ting Chen, described as ‘a popular guidance counselor who cares deeply for her students — especially those struggling the most.’

So, my first thoughts are that this is Max’s guidance counselor, considering the audition tape which was leaked awhile back, which included Ms. Kelly to be talking to a person who similarly acted like Max.

Unfortunately I have lost the link to the audition tape, however if you have not seen it, you just need to trust me on this one.

Since I can’t find the audition tape anymore, I am going strictly by memory. I don’t have everything completely set and stone, however her character description does not mention Hawkins, which means she can also be in the Byers new town. I believe she is in Hawkins, though.

She is probably going to have a similar role to Mr. Clarke. For example during one of Max’s sessions with Ms. Kelly, Max might ask for advice, and Ms. Kelly can give her advice which changes her perspective and helps Max and the others figure out what exactly is going on in Hawkins.

4. Chrissy

Last but not least, Chrissy, portrayed by Grace Van Dien, and is represented as ‘Hawkins’ High lead cheerleader and the most popular girl in school. But beneath the seemingly perfect surface lies a dark secret.’

Grace is 24 years old, and judging by her age I believe she will be one of the teens. She is most likely going to be a senior, ending her high school years.

I think Chrissy is going to be a plotpoint for this season, and this season’s story is going to revolve around her, just like it did for Will in season one. In Patricks audition (listed above) it included a missing student, and I am guessing that Chrissy will be that missing student.

I am pretty sure everyone in Hawkins will be investigating this strange disappearance, including Steve, Robin, Dustin, Nancy, Max, Lucas, Patrick, Eddie, and maybe Vickie. Maybe Robin and Nancy a little less, since they are rumored to be investigating in Pennhurst mental hospital.

But, adding focus back to Chrissy, I think she is going to die this season. She does not have a ‘B’ name, so we cannot expect for her to die in the Upside Down, but rather something else. The only people who have died to the Upside Down started with a ‘B’ (Barb, Bob, Billy). I don’t have many theories for how she is going to die, but maybe a car accident or something? But right before that she encounters a Demogorgon, which leads everyone in Hawkins to believe she is in the Upside Down.

Chrissy will be a minor character, and I’m speculating she is going to die by the third or fourth episode. That’s not to say she will die any sooner, however. Don’t get too attached to her.

There had been set photos leaked of Grace on set, and she was spotted by Mason Dye (Jason Carver), most likely her boyfriend. It had also been rumored that Mike was going to have some scenes with Chrissy and might have some romantic interactions, however I’m pretty sure Mike will not be interacting with Chrissy anytime soon, let alone a romantic one.

It says in her character description that she ‘has a dark secret’. Now, what could this dark secret be?

I don’t have too many suspicions, but she might be experiencing abuse, most likely from her mother. I think she might have her mother force her to be ‘perfect’ and ‘pretty’, and might have some parallels to Billy, Jonathan, or Will.

Another speculation that I have is that Chrissy has an eating disorder. This might go into correlation with her abuse. Her eating disorder might cause her mother to constantly judge her appearance and.. well… abuse her.

So, let’s recap.

Vickie will be a new love interest for Robin, and be major in this season.

Patrick will be a minor character, will be Lucas’ friend, and be involved in the Upside Down

Ms. Kelly is Max’s guidance counselor, and might give a solution to their problems

Chrissy will go missing, and is destined to death.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #stranger things theory #stranger things teaser #stranger writers #st4 #vickie #patrick #ms. kelly #chrissy

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spacetickles · 3 years

Note

Hellooooo! Can I get a "you're going to regret that" with some shadogast or widomauk?

Hello! @poesparakeet

This one really got away from me, sorry it took so long!

I couldn't decide between shadowgast or widomauk so you get both.

and as an aside, I snuck in some of my own conlang for elven in this fic, (if you can call a few words a conlang)

Mellio (meel-leo)

Meaning “beloveds” specifically plural and in a romantic sense. literally translated, "honey loves" or "sweet loves"

fic is below! enjoy!

“You are going to regret that, Mr. Mollymauk!” Caleb shouted, chasing Molly down the hallway, Molly laughed despite himself, looking back over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Caleb's face, covered in poorly done makeup, and made to stay with a little magic. Molly almost tripped as he laughed at the sight, but quickly regained his footing.

“Blame Jester! It was her idea!” Molly shouted back. He flew through the halls, passing Essek quickly, nearly bowling him over in his haste.

“Sorry!” Molly called, taking the stairs two at the time, hoping to make it to his room quick enough. He heard Caleb move past Essek too, way too quickly for comfort.

For such a squishy wizard, Caleb was fast. Molly made it to his room, but could barely get a hand on the door handle before he was shoved and crowded up against his bed until Molly fell face first into his duvet, with Caleb pinning him from above.

Molly twisted around, catching a glimpse of his handywork and burst into laughter again.

“I’ll give you something to laugh about, Mr. Mollymauk.” Caleb growled playfully, placing his hands on Molly's ribs.

“Now, hold on, we can talk about this,” Molly tried, already feeling like butterflies had taken up residence within his torso.

“You don’t really want that,” Caleb said, before digging his hand into Molly's sides. Molly bucked, humming through his laughter. “Come now Molly,” Caleb prompted, squeezing the backs of Molly's hips. Molly howled, cackling wildly. He kicked as much as he could while pinned on his stomach. Caleb wormed his fingers under Molly, and dug into his hip pockets. Molly wheezed, wiggling away from Caleb's hands, when a knock at the door interrupted him.

Caleb stopped and Molly took in a grateful breath of air, before maneuvering his head to see who had knocked.

“Have I interrupted something, Mellio?” Essek said from the door, striding over to give Caleb a kiss. He stopped, tilting his head, and chucking.

“I see.” Essek made a motion with his hands that Molly couldn't quite see, and as if it had never been there, all of Molly's hard work had disappeared.

“Thank you, Liebling.” Caleb leaned into the kiss, now that he was without what could be described as clown makeup. Molly groaned, with mock annoyance, drawing Caleb’s and Essek’s attention back to him.

“You know,” Essek said thoughtfully, dragging a finger dangerously close to Molly’s back,

“Mollymauk let the most interesting fact slip the other day,” he continued, Caleb lifted his hand to let Essek continue his fingers' lazy spiral on Molly's side. Molly giggled, shoving his face into the duvet.

“Did he now?” Caleb asked, catching on, Molly whined, his tail lashing behind him.

“Indeed. He said, oh where was it again, Mollymauk? Right here?” Essek teased, finally touching down on Molly’s spine, zipping just one finger up the middle of his back.

Molly shrieked. Essek grinned at Caleb and followed Molly’s spine down to his tail, scratching the base with blunt nails. Molly bucked, nearly sending Caleb flying across the room. Molly wheezed, cackling wildly.

“That is interesting,” Caleb added, taking over for Essek, running his finger up and down Molly’s back, occasionally stopping to dig into the base of his tail, even finding a spot on Molly’s shoulder blades he didn’t even know he had. Molly thrashed and screamed, nearly tearing one of his pillows to shreds with his horns.

“There is a final trick,” Essek said, through his laughter Molly groaned. His tail lashed violently. Essek managed to wrangle his tail still until he had a firm grip just below its spade. Caleb had stopped and normally Molly would be taking in the much needed air, but found he was too busy waiting for what he knew would come next.

Essek skated his nails over the spade and Molly snorted, once, twice, several more times before his laughter fell silent and everything stopped. Essek let go of Molly’s tail, Caleb moved off of him, and both sat beside him. Molly rolled over and curled up, breathing heavily, still giggling, neither wizard touched him, not until he had calmed down enough.

Once Molly no longer felt like he had electricity for veins, he relaxed, wrapping his tail around Caleb's wrist and making grabby hands for Essek. Caleb rolled his eyes, and laid down, cuddling into Molly. Essek close behind.

“I'm still mad at you, liebling,” Caleb muttered, Molly hummed sleepily, barely paying attention in his half-asleep state.

“I'm sure you’ll get over it.”

#shadowidomauk #critickle role #essek thelyss #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #tickling #crtical role #tickle fic #ask #my fic #tickle #tickle community #caleb deserves two purple boyfriends as much as molly deserves two wizard boyfriends #and essek gets two idiots #listen does it make sense for essek to be speaking elven? no #did I want to show off my pretty fun words I made up? yes #so I will

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utilitycaster · 3 years

Text

about to go do things with my sister but before I reblog all I can while riding in a car until I acknowledge how carsick I am please enjoy the unedited (but for a few notes about fic/wizard tracker) doc I kept from approximately 6 am this morning (beginning of Trent Fight) until about half an hour ago because my other sister with whom I watched until midnight was behind me in her watch so I had NO ONE with whom to share my terrible shitpost thoughts

Uk’otoa in the pond is like...don’t threaten me with a good time

Fluffernutter?

Adele Dazeem’s Horrid Wilting, no less

YES YES THE OTHER WIZARDS ARE OUT

Veth you need to let Caleb/Astrid go like. Come on girl.

Well I got my Wulf answer…

YES PEOPLE WHO BROUGHT SWORDS TO A WIZARD FIGHT

Fjord now down to wizard HP levels

The dispels and the fluffernutter/collar series...impeccable. Every moment.

I can’t tell if this is rodeo or wrestling

Oh okay rodeo

Stone cold veth

Device? Activated. Collar? Adhered. Mouth? STOPPED. (trent ikithon is forcibly ejected from the narrative)

Take that object away he still sucks

Fjord: Violence is always the second answer. The first answer is respecting other people’s wishes. But violence fucking slaps.

All deep thoughts on Astrid and Wulf to be saved for like. Real meta and not this. That said...how fitting that Wulf is like, mostly just like “I would like to not be here”. I relate to this.

Can’t wait to get online and see all the memes of Astrid, Eadwulf, and Kingsley in the cars from that slightly problematic TV show from the Emo musician guy.

Forgot that Melora gives her greatest powers only to her most raw fucking servants.

“You do not, under any circumstances, gotta hand it to him”

Jester is now just providing Essek’s dress-up closet and like. Bless her.

BINGO (if Ludinus counts as a mention and if not whatever it’s the finale I do what I want sorry Gena)

I love Cad in max passive-aggressiveness mode and also just aggressiveness mode

Okay Kingsley and the whip is actually a good pairing, I’m into it.

Awww everyone hugging Cad…

Cad: I’m off the grid bitch!

Look what you’ve done for me. I have anxiety. (no but really, beautiful scene but also the image of Essek slipping out from a group hug by floating up will make me laugh for like. A month.)

EMPATHIZE

Trent being fed oatmeal by fey cats...effervescent

Let’s go to Nicodranas and party with old people!

Yussa experiences shame!

Yussa: Wizards love you. Fuck everyone else. Let’s party.

Oh my god i want to be drunk on a roof with my friends staring at the moon...Jester and Fjord you are RUINING ME

Can’t believe the cast made a Mallrats reference after last week when, no shade, NONE OF Y’ALL ACKNOWLEDGED IT

Jester’s strength is 100% for hugging, canon

Fuck you all I’m shipping Marius/Kingsley now and you can’t do anything about it

FOR I AM A PIRATE KING(SLEY) (you are! Hurrah for the pirate king!) (Pirates of Penzance AU? probably not)

SYPHILIS BANDITS

I love you Orly

Unrelated but has anyone else seen the Chris Fleming video about boston bros holding beer cans in their giant hands

YUDALA MY BELOVED

Okay real bingo, Ludinus has shown up and also knows which way the wind is blowing huh, fucking opportunist. And he’s not stupid...he knows that means “you’re next, bitch” from Caleb

GASLIGHTERS DELENDA EST

(making my way)

Immortal weasel fuck yeah

“There’s still so much of exandria to fuck with”

Where’s that bit about only children and Keyleth and “it’s definitely my fault that the dragon destroyed the city” because Fjord my guy

Love that Vandran is being beset by “shitty monkeys” like this is what you get for not talking about your feelings

Vandran, who dated Avantika: Jester is...a lot

“Be my Yeza”...top Exandrian pop single

If you talk super fast you can fit it all in a message because it’s only one word. It’s just science.

My worst trait is that like, on the one hand I would love to see certain tropes subverted, like, why not do the questionable science. But on the other it’s pretty much always the right idea not to and I love seeing people be like “I want this more than anything and also I cannot know if it will destroy me, I have something now that I can’t risk ruining”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #long post #mighty nein

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Note

BARTENDER Y/N AND THE FRAT FAMILY AT FORMAL!!! PLEASE!!!

i used a few asks to build out this scene including this, this and this. here is y/n’s outfit (it’s hot). this is connected to behind the bar.

enjoy 5.6k of fluff and smut. warning: some choking :)

You pulled the dress down as you stood in the bathroom of the hotel room you were sharing with Harry. To say you were nervous would be an understatement—you were internally losing your shit. Harry had asked you a month ago to go to his formal with him and at the time you had just thought sure, it’s just another event. But now you were here and you were wearing one of Rhea’s dresses that showed almost every inch of your skin and you were this close to feigning sickness. And not because you were nervous about what Harry would think—Harry didn’t care what you wore—you were nervous you would be wearing the wrong thing and the rest of the dates would think you were crazy.

Because the truth was that maybe your dress was a little crazy. It had a deep plunge down to the base of your breasts that showed your cleavage and instead of seams going up from the hem to the hip, there were laces, meaning you couldn’t wear underwear, and also that a significant amount of leg was showing as well as all of the tattoo on your hip. Essentially, you had to be very careful while dancing. You had asked Harry about the dress code and he had just shrugged, before pulling you in towards his chest and running his hand through your hair. That had quickly distracted you and the thought had fled from your head, meaning you had to rely on Google and your roommate, and neither of you were in sororities or had ever gone to a frat formal before.

Which left you here, standing in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath before you turned around and entered the bedroom, where Harry was waiting for you. You could hear the low rumble of music playing from the portable speaker Harry had packed with him, his pregame playlist that you knew well by this point flowing through the air. BLEACH by BROCKHAMPTON was currently playing, one of your shared favorites, so you decided it was time. You swiped the remnants of your makeup into your makeup bag and zipped it shut, leaving it on the counter for when you packed up tomorrow, and then you turned and opened the door.

“Holy fuck.”

Harry was standing a few feet away, holding a glass hotel glass filled with amber liquid and staring at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Hi, babe,” you said, giving him a small smile. “Like?”

He cleared his throat and closed the space between the two of you, pressing your back lightly against the wall behind you. “I don’t know if we’re going to even make it to the venue,” he said, running his hand up the laces at your sides. “We might need to just skip the pregame and stay here.”

“Oh?” You slid your hand up his chest, splaying across his exposed chest under his sheer black dress shirt. Of course the two of you had accidentally matched, his all black outfit the perfect compliment to your dress. “But I spent so long getting ready,” you complained, scratching lightly at his skin.

His head dropped to your shoulder, resting his forehead against your leather jacket. “Fine. But I cannot be held accountable for the things I might be forced to do to you.”

You chuckled and pushed at his chest, moving him away from you. “You don’t look to bad yourself, Styles.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, gesturing at his outfit. “What do you think? Am I hot enough for you?”

“Hmm,” you said, running your eyes up and down his body. “Nearly.”

“Nearly?!”

You nodded, pushing his suit jacket back a bit so you could hold onto the pudge at the top of his pants, one of your favorite things about his body. “I wish you didn’t have to wear a shirt.”

His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth lifting at your words. “Well, that could be arranged.”

“As much as I would love to fuck you right now,” you murmured, “we have places to be.” You leaned in and pressed a lipstick-tinged kiss to his jaw. “Come on, baby.”

“Not so fast,” he said when you tried to pull away, spinning you around and pressing you back up against the wall and dropping his glass to the table next to him. “This is the last alone time I’m going to get with you for a while and I’m going to fucking enjoy it.”

He left a line of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, causing your pulse to quicken and you curled your hands in his hair, the long strands sifting between your digits. “H, Matt’s expecting us.”

“Fuck Matt.” You chuckled but Harry didn’t—he just sucked on the juncture of your neck and shoulder until you pulled his head up, giving him a terse look as if to say I’m wearing a fucking dress, idiot, try to be discreet at least. And then you released him and he reconnected your lips.

Your hands dove under his suit jacket, curling the back of his dress shirt in your hand and tugging, needing something to anchor you as he slipped his tongue between your lips. His hands were pushing up the hem of your dress, desperate for more of your bare skin, and when he reached where your underwear would usually be, his breath hitched and he pulled away.

His gaze fell to where your dress sat bunched up at your hips, his hand splayed over your skin. “Are you…not wearing underwear?”

The giggle that left your lips made Harry pinch your skin softly. “No, I couldn’t with the laces.”

He groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. “I really wish I hadn’t figured that out because now I’m not going to be able to fucking think all night.”

“You’re never thinking anyways, it shouldn’t be too different.”

“Hey.” He lifted his head and pouted at you. “That’s mean. Say you’re sorry.”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p sound. “Now come on, we need to go or Matt’s going to tell everyone we were fucking again.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not wrong.”

“We’re not fucking right now.”

“No,” he said, eyebrows wiggling at you, “but we could be.”

You groaned, and pushed down your dress, stepping out of his grasp. “You’re hopeless. Now grab the whiskey—we’re going now or I’m not touching you for a week.”

That got him moving immediately, the handle of whiskey and bottle of Coca Cola you’d brought with in his hands as you made your way down the hall to where Matt’s room was. You knocked on the door, Harry’s arm hooked around your back and holding you close, nosing at your hair gently. It was adorable, frankly, how needy he got around you. It didn’t matter what you were wearing or what time of day it was, he just constantly wanted to be touching you.

The door swung open and you stepped inside, Matt clapping Harry on the back and giving you a tight squeeze. Caleb and Tyler let out hoots and hollers upon seeing you, before introducing you to their dates. Matt had brought a girl he had started seeing recently, Katie, who you actually quite liked—she was quiet and sweet, but definitely knew how to have a good time. Harry set the whiskey and coke on the console table where the other alcohol was, and you poured yourself a drink, needing some alcohol flowing through your veins. Sipping on your drink, you lost yourself in conversation, Harry’s body pressed to your back and his chin on your shoulder as you talked.

You ended up sitting on the hotel bed talking to Katie about her major and your respective hometowns. She asked you about Harry and how you’d met and you told her the whole story from start to finish. You had her laughing when you quoted things Harry had said to you in the bar and cooing as you described how sweet and considerate he was, how he’d just hang out in the bar and do his homework at the stool nestled against the wall whenever you worked an earlier shift during the week. He surprised you constantly at how much he was more than the simple frat boy you had expected.

When you finished your drink you caught Harry’s eye and raised your glass, silently requesting a refill. You watched him go to the bar and grab two Whiteclaws, one for him and one for you in your favorite flavor, Line. Tyler came over to him and asked him something and Harry shook his head before slapping his hand away, and then came over to where you and Katie sat.

“Your drink, malady,” he said, handing you the can.

“Thanks,” you replied, taking it and flipping the tab open. “What did Tyler ask?”

He huffed out a breath. “Tried to steal your Claw. I asked him if he was my girlfriend, which he obviously wasn’t, and told him to fuck off.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I’m so happy my boyfriend is so possessive over his alcohol.”

“With those two you have to be,” he said, leaning against your body and sliding an arm around your shoulders. “So Katie, what do you think of my beloved big?”

Katie’s eyes widened and then flickered over to Matt. “He’s…great, honestly. I didn’t really know what to expect when we met, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know him. I’m not really sure, like, what we’re doing, but it’s good so far.”

“Well,” Harry said with a smile, “I have it on good authority that he likes you.”

“Harry,” you hissed, knowing exactly what he was up to. “Stop meddling.”

He raised his hands. “Sorry—I’ll leave it be.” He had been trying to get Matt to pluck the courage and make it official with Katie for ages, rather than just hooking up and essentially dating without ever labelling it. Since he’d been dating you he had turned into this dating guru overnight, a wealth of knowledge that you thought was completely bullshit half the time. “I think we’re leaving soon—if I don’t get Thing 1 and 2 to the actual bar soon they’re not going to even fucking make it.”

You nodded. “Want me to help rally the troops?”

“Please. I swear, you’re the only one they listen to anymore.”

“It’s because they’re both in love with me,” you replied with a roll of your eyes and Harry scoffed. “What? It’s true.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Harry kissed the top of your head and then turned back to Katie who was watching the two of you with a smile. “Sorry, Katie, but I need to steal this one.”

You got up and went with Harry to convince his littles and their newly acquired littles, Alan and Brian and their respective dates, to start heading out. Tyler somehow ended up giving Alan a piggyback ride out of the hotel room, both of their dates following with annoyance on their faces. It was going to be a long night.

The frat had rented out a club in the town they’d selected for formal, which was one of the main reasons you were excited for the night. A legitimate bar rather than a shitty frat one? A dream. The light were flashing as you all walked inside, Mr. Brightside blasting on the speakers. Harry kept his jacket since he had all of your belongings tucked into it, and you all found a booth in a corner to stash your stuff in. You grabbed drinks and before long, you were on the dance floor, Harry’s hands on your hips and yours around his neck, grinding against him.

His fingers kept brushing up the laces on the sides of your dress, utterly obsessed with the skin you had on display. Sexy Bitch by David Guetta came on and you immediately discovered that Harry was going to taking full advantage of the songs, speeding up the speed of his hips against you, even twirling you around so your ass pressed against the front of him, his head dropped to your shoulder and bitting marks on your exposed neck. His fingers dug into your hips and swayed you back in forth on him and you just smiled and laid your head on his shoulder, letting him take over.

You had never really enjoyed dancing with a guy until you did it with Harry. He managed to be a perfect combination of fun and sexy all in one, alternating between screaming the lyrics to grinding slowing against your ass, his hands holding you as close as humanly possible, the ends of his hair tickling your skin. You never felt uncomfortable with him—you felt sexy, desired, and wanted more than anything else.

Matt, Tyler, Caleb, Alan, and Brian were hovering in the vicinity and when Jordan Belfort came on they all lost it, creating a mosh circle of some kind and turning into the peak frat boy that you knew lived inside of Harry, even if you didn’t see it all the time. Katie and the rest of their dates danced with you, screaming the lyrics and dropping low when you wanted, tipping your heads back and laughing as the boys jumped all over each other, Harry’s hands on Tyler’s shoulders as he jumped and down. All of their suit jackets were long forgotten and the back of their dress shirts were sweaty, but no one cared. Your hair had long since gone up in a ponytail and you were deeply regretting wearing long sleeves, because an entire frat and their dates packed onto a dance floor was making you sweat.

You needed air or a break at the very least. You tapped Harry on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, and he nodded, before yelling for you to put it on his tab. As Hot Girl Bummer started you slipped away, letting the music swirl around you as you pushed through sweaty bodies, guys you knew through 260 or Harry giving you high fives and hugs as you moved. Finally, you made it to the bar and you sighed, the lack of bodies making the temperature drop at least ten degrees.

“Can I get a whiskey on the rocks, neat?” You asked the bartender and his eyes widened, but he nodded. You leaned against the bar, your arm on the counter and sighed. Watching someone else make you a drink was so unpleasant—you just wanted to be the one with the handle in their hands, behind the bar.

“Do you have a tab open?” The bartender asks, setting your drink in front of you.

“Styles,” you answered. “Question—how much would I have to pay you to let me behind the bar?” He looked at you in confusion. “I’m a bartender too. Just…want to make some right now, you know?”

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry, but I can’t let you. Protocol and all that.”

You frowned. “Really? Even for an actual bartender?”

“Yeah,” he replied, grabbing a glass from below the bar. “I couldn’t give a fuck, but the bosses, you know?”

You took a sip of your whiskey, grimacing slightly as the straight whiskey slid down your throat. The first few sips were always brutal but once the ice melted a bit, it was perfection. “Pretty please? I’ll even make you a drink.”

“I can make my own drinks.”

“But—“

“Hey babe.” You turned and Harry was standing behind you, looking between you and the bartender. “What’s going on?”

“I was trying to get this kind bartender—sorry, what’s your name?”

“Adam.”

“Adam to let me make a drink.”

Harry nodded once, and then looked up at Adam. “Well, mate? What do you think?”

Adam seemed utterly unamused with your shenanigans, but personally you were having a grand time. “I already told her—it’s against policy.”

Harry frowned, before looking down at you and placing his hand on your back. “Sounds like it’s a no-go, babe. Adam, can I get one of whatever she got?”

“Straight whiskey?” You asked him, surprised.

“That’s what you got?” You nodded and he exhaled sharply. “God, you’re going to kill me. Yeah, straight whiskey. Fuck it.”

Fuck it didn’t turn out to be the best advice. An hour later, you were back in Harry’s arms, his arm wrapped around your waist and your hand curved around the back of his neck as you pressed your ass to his front, eyes shut as you moved. “What’s the likelihood you’d let me fuck you in the bathroom?” he mumbled in your ear, nipping at the skin below your earlobe.

You considered his words, your alcohol-fogged brain struggling to process the pros and cons. “How clean is the bathroom?”

“Clean,” he answered immediately.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “No. I want a cozy bed and to be able to enjoy you for hours.”

He grazed your pulse point with his teeth and you groaned, only him able to hear the sound over the music. “Hours, huh?”

“Well, I can go for hours,” you retorted, grinding your ass against him harder. “It’s you who can’t.”

“Hey, that’s mean.” He turned you around, catching you when you almost fell in your heels. “Who said I can’t last for hours?”

You rolled your eyes at him and pressed your thumbs into his biceps to hold yourself steady. The whiskey had you a bit weak in the knees, just how you wanted it. “I did, based on personal experience.”

Harry dug his hands into your hips before slipping them down to your ass, his rings digging through the material of your dress and into your skin. “That’s it, we’re leaving.”

“What?”

He ducked his head and kissed your jaw, a low moan falling from your lips. “Yeah, I’ve got a girlfriend who thinks I can’t fucking last and I’ve gotta prove her wrong.” With that, he was wrenching you off the dance floor, rushed goodbyes to his lineage, and pulling you towards the booth where Matt and Katie were making out for his jacket. Matt flipped you off when you interrupted to say bye and Harry just rolled his eyes before pulling you towards the door.

Harry was ripping off his clothes before you’d even fully gotten inside the room, kicking off his dress shoes as you unlocked the door. Your head was spinning from the way he’d kissed you in the Uber you’d taken back, how he’d sucked and pulled on your lips, marking your neck with his mouth as you panted in his ears. Now, in the room, it was no different, except this time he picked you up off the ground, carrying your through the room with his lips on yours before dropping you to the plush hotel room bed.

“Can’t fuckin’ last,” he mumbled, making a line down your sternum where your dress exposed your cleavage. Your fingers tucked between the strands of his hair, tugging softly as he sucked right over your sternum. “We’ll see about that, baby.”

“Your clothes,” you breathed out, pushing at his chest to create space. You wanted to be able to feel him, to see him in all of his beauty. “Off.” Fingers fumbled for the buttons and he helped you, pulling it free from his trousers as you slowly made your way down his shirt. You were suddenly thankful for the fact that he never properly buttoned his shirts, leaving the sheer black material loose down to the third or fourth button.

He ripped off the shirt once you got it unbuttoned, tossing it to the floor and ducking back down to find your lips. Your hips pressed up into him, desperate for his fingers or anything—just something to help you through the burning that was running through your body. “Needy, hmm?” He taunted, pushing up the hem of your dress, exposing your bare center. When he ran a finger up your slit you couldn’t stop the needy cry that filled the space between you. “You’re so wet,” he said in awe, poking his finger inside your slit experimentally and watching your hips buck up to get more of his finger.

You were chasing him, bending and moving your body just to have an inch more of him, anything more he would give you. Fingers dug into the pearl white duvet that was most definitely going to be a mess after you were done with it, but you didn’t care. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be sleeping much anyways.

Harry scooted backwards so his body could fall to the bed, crawling between your legs and blowing softly on your clit, making you keen, body snapping up from the sensation. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned, biting gently into the skin of your inner thigh. His free hand rubbed at the spot after, holding your thighs open so he could suck on your clit, the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his palm on your skin and the rapidity of his fingers inside of you being too much.

“H,” you panted, tugging on his hair and holding him close to you. “Need it.” You were basically shoving your pussy into his face, riding his fingers and his tongue, just chasing the feeling inside of you. When you were drunk you came with ease, and tonight seemed to be no different, the cumulation of grinding against him all night and the way he had kissed you in the car culminating in you being nearly at an orgasm. There was also how he looked between your legs, his hair tickling your skin and his eyes darting up to look at you every once in a while, loving to watch you reach your edge.

“Come for me,” he said, suckling on your clit and then licking a circle from your slit back to your clit. “Come on, baby.” Then he slid another finger in and curled them, hitting the spongy part at your front walls and you cried out his name and curses, arching your back as your orgasm overtook your body, heat curling up your spine as you came.

He licked you through it, pulling his fingers from you and kissing over your slit as your walls fluttered, shockwaves rolling through you. “Too much,” you said, shaking your head and pulling him up. “Want you.”

“Me, hmm?” His cocky persona was coming out in force and you were too drunk to deal with him. You could see he was too from how he fumbled with his belt and his pants, you laughing as you helped get his socks off because you refused to let him fuck you with his socks on. “How do you want it?” He asked, pushing your dress the rest of the way up your body to reveal the peaks of your breasts and your flushed skin. With your help, he pulled it off your body fully, leaving you naked for him. “Fuck—no bra or underwear? I’m a lucky man.”

You giggled and he smiled at the sound, sucking on your jaw softly. “From behind,” you told him, pushing him back so you could hop up onto all fours.

“Can do, baby,” he said, loving to use pet names when he was drunk like this. Once you were on your hands and knees for him, head tilted to the side so you could see him behind you, his hand came down on the skin of your bum. It was a shock, but not unwelcome in any way—the impact had your mind fumbling, fingers digging into the pillow on the bed just above where your head rested against the duvet. You squeaked as he did it again, rubbing into the skin gently, and you wondered if you’d have the outline of his hands on your skin tomorrow.

Not that you minded in the least. “Condom,” you panted, trying to piece together any rational thoughts in the moment, because all you could process was your desire to have him inside of you. “Where’s the condom, H?”

“Fuck,” he said, letting go of your skin. “Duffel. Fuck—where is it?” His feet hit the ground and you chuckled into the duvet as you watched him root around in his duffel bag for the condoms he had packed. You kept your ass in the air, not wanting to have to move, and he seemed to be happy with this decision. “Waiting for me, huh?” He asked, getting back on the bed after having dropped his pants and underwear to the ground, scampering across the bed to you. “Look so good for me. Ass in the air, just begging for me.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you told him, pushing back against the air, taunting him. You seemed to succeed because he cursed before ripping the condom open, grabbing the condom and rolling it down his length. It was fast, all of the build-up, but you didn’t care. The two of you could barely keep your hands off of each other, so the foreplay didn’t matter all that much anymore. You just wanted to feel him stretch you, fill you up, hear him grunt in your ear as he fucked into you, see his pupils blown out and hear your name leave his mouth. Fucking him was one of your favorite activities, no matter how long it lasted or how it happened.

He slapped your ass again, rings digging into your flesh, and your fingernails dug into the duvet, searching for purchase. “You always like that,” he murmured, leaning down to bite softly on the skin of your bum. His hands slide up your back, grabbing and pulling at your skin as he rolls his hips against yours, his erect cock rubbing against your folds. You pressed back into him, searching for more, but he had nothing to give—he seemed to just want to linger here and get his hands all over you.

You were panting, letting out a combination of his name and begs that he would remind you of in the morning with a joking smile on his face. “H, please, come on—“ Your words were cut off by him slamming into you without warning, your body jerking forward from the impact, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

Then he was building a pace, a brutal one that left the back of your thighs stinging but you loved it. Loved knowing you’d feel him in the morning, loved how he filled you and consumed every part of you, ripping you to shreds and sewing you back together again all at the same time. From the angle you could feel him pressing against your g-spot over and over again and stretching you out just like you liked it.

All you could do was hold onto the duvet and rock back against him as much as you could, but by and large you just let Harry take over, knowing he could set a pace that you could never rival. His fingers were digging into the skin at your waist, a tight grip that was sure to leave marks, and he was mumbling your name over and over, mixed in with curses and random words you couldn’t even process.

He was so good. There were no words to even properly to describe the feeling of Harry fucking you like this, hard and fast and filling every need you had. You could feel another orgasm building, the combination of his hands gripping your body and the depth he was reaching inside of you making you fall through an orgasm faster than you could process.

“More,” you mumbled into the duvet, reaching behind you for his hand blindly.

“Yeah?” His hand slid up your back and came to rest on the back of your neck, tightening slightly around the sides. Ever since that first time you’d fucked and his love for being choked came out, the two of you had experimented with it, only to find out you both loved it. You liked it right as you were about to come, as just something to push you over the edge, while Harry liked it for longer periods of time.

His fingers pressed into the sides of your throat and you rocked back onto him immediately, hands sliding up and pressing into the mattress, holding your body up barely as you chased your release. “Close,” you said when he pounded into you faster, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

All of a sudden he was pulling you up, your back coming to rest against his chest, reaching a different depth inside of you. You could hear his pants and groans even louder in your ears and you moaned his name, reaching up to press his hand back to your throat. “Want my hand on your throat, baby?” He said in a husky voice that had you nodding. His palm circled your throat, thumb on one side and his fingers on the other and he pressed down slightly, before adding a bit more pressure. He knew that he had to keep building pressure because the pain faded fast and you needed more, and he most definitely didn’t disappoint.

“Gonna come,” you said, words gravelly in your throat as you stuttered the words, the depths he was reaching inside of you and the pressure on your neck making a brutal combination. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he answered, adding a bit more pressure before dipping his head and sucking a mark onto your shoulder. Together, it overpowered your senses, sending you into overdrive and pushing you into your orgasm, body shaking against his as you came.

He held you close, fucking you through it and loosening his grip so you could come down. You fell back down to the bed, hands on the duvet and holding you up, breathing heavily as you pushed back against him, wanting him to finish too. “Come on, H,” you mumbled, looking back at him. “Come for me, baby.”

His eyes found yours and with a grunt you could feel him spilling into the condom, hips stuttering against yours and hands digging into your skin. “Fuck,” he hissed, head bobbing as he pulled out.

You rolled over as he got up to the dispose of the condom, brushing your hair back and catching your breath. “I take back what I said earlier.”

As he walked over to you he smiled, before bending to the duffel and grabbing two more condoms. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting you forget it. I’ve got plenty of condoms and a whole fucking hotel room to explore with you.”

Your eyebrows lifted and he tugged on your leg, you head bouncing on the mattress. “The whole room, huh? What’s next, the bedside table?”

He rolled his eyes and bent over, picking you up, knowing you would be Jell-O in his arms. “I was thinking the floor.”

“The floor? It’s carpet, H!”

“I’ll put a shirt down, hush. I know you like the burn.”

You blushed because he was right. Fuck him for knowing you this well. “Fine, but you’re helping me with the lotion tomorrow.”

He chuckled, dropping down to the ground in a mess of limbs as he settled to the floor. “Course, love. It’s my favorite activity.”

In the morning, you woke up to a head of hair, light snores in your ear, and tight muscles. You groaned, before rolling over. You had to pee and badly. Harry’s hands tugged at your skin, wanting you back, but you pulled away, making sure not to wake him as you got up and on shaky legs made your way to the bathroom.

The sight of your face in the mirror made you sigh. Your hair was a disaster, most definitely a rat’s nest that wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon, and makeup you’d been too lazy to take off smeared under your eyes. Marks and bruises littered your skin, the remnants of many, many rounds with Harry last night adorning your body. You pressed one on your shoulder gently, hissing at the pain that radiated from the spot.

You sighed and sat down on the toilet, peeing quickly before standing back up and washing your hands and face, cleaning off the leftover makeup. Then, you pushed open the door and called Harry’s name.

He picked his head up, rolling over and knuckling at his eyes. “What is it, baby?”

That pet name never ceased to make you smile, the sweetness of it on his lips causing your heart to soar. “What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Styles? Hmm?” You turned in a circle, showing him the damage he’d left on your body with raised eyebrows.

He immediately blushed at the sight of the red and purple marks on your skin. “I’ll kiss it better, c’mere, baby.” He reached out his hands, wiggling his fingers to get you into his grasp.

Despite knowing he’d only cause more because he was a sucker for hungover morning sex, you made your way over to him, sitting down on his lap. “Made quite a mess, mister.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kissing across your cleavage softly. “Looks pretty, though.”

“Think so?”

“Know so.”

“Tell that to literally any human being when they see me. I look like I’ve been fucking attacked.”

“Not attacked,” he said, peeking up at you. “Just fucked really, really good.”

You laughed, brushing your fingers through his hair, before kissing him gently on the lips. “Good thing I love you otherwise you’d be in for it.”

The two of you fell back into the hotel sheets, desperate for one another, despite spending the entire previous evening wrapped up in one another. Around you, your formal attire littered the floor, but neither of you cared, just wanting a few more minutes together before you had to leave each other’s arms.

#btb blurbs #concept night #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fiction #anon #answered

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anthonyjlockwood · 3 years

Note

17 OF THE 50 WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU FOR LALEXIE PLEASEEEE

em, my fellow luke angst lover, my lalexie brain rot-causer, my beloved <3

here is your prompt on ao3. tw for discussions of luke wanting to cross over. please read responsibly💜

Luke’s song book has been through a lot over the years.

It’s had tears soaked into its pages. It’s had crumbs stuck in between its binding. It’s had dozens of songs written on it in fast, messy handwriting, thousands of words based on Luke’s inner thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams.

It’s survived years worth of scribbles, cross-outs, rips and tears; even hugs and kisses, when Luke’s written something he’s sure will be a hit someday.

It’s survived death, some time in a dark room, and a tumbling trip back to Earth twenty five years in the future.

And now, the boy who’s been writing in it for all that time, whose soul is attached to it in ways most people wouldn’t even understand, is using its pages for something else.

Something no one would have ever expected.

A list.

Ways I Can Cross Over.

He thought that maybe, Unsaid Emily would’ve been it. There was a small part of him that had expected to just vanish into thin air the second Julie handed his parents that sheet of notebook paper.

His notebook is almost empty now. Luke thinks that that’s fitting; he’s spent most of his soul onto the pages. He’s a ghost. He’s got nothing more to give. Maybe it’s even a sign -- a sign that he’s not going to need to write music for much longer. The notebook is running out of space. It’s running out of time, just like he is.

He wonders if he could even use a new songbook. It wouldn’t be a part of him, the way his old one was. It would be empty; a blank slate for him to start a new journey in. A whole new marathon to run just as he’s crossing the finish line of the last one.

And… he doesn’t want to.

He’s tired of running. Running from his parents. Running from Caleb. From things that he broke, from things that were threatening to break him. From things that were hurting his friends.

Luke’s always been one for impulsive decisions.

So after he makes his list, he dog-ears the page and gives himself a time limit.

He has until the pages run out in his notebook to figure out what his unfinished business is… and finish it.

The problem is, Luke’s life on Earth wasn’t that long. He’s had seventeen years to start things, and practically no time at all to finish them. The possibilities of what his unfinished business actually is are endless. There was that music festival the guys had wanted to play at the end of summer ‘95. Countless world tours they wanted to go on. He wanted to sign an autograph for Dave Grohl, shake hands with Mick Jagger. He wanted to drink chocolate from the world’s largest chocolate waterfall in Alaska.

So few of these things he could actually do, now that he was dead.

Even fewer of them he could do without the guys. If his unfinished business really had to be just for him, maybe the band stuff wouldn’t be enough.

He never finished high school. He never learned how to play the bass -- he’s always wanted to; after all, Reggie could play the guitar, so Luke should know how to play his instrument, too.

And the only other thing he could think of that was absolutely, one hundred percent his business to finish… was his relationship with his mother.

Julie bringing “Unsaid Emily” over to his old house had been something. It filled the hole in his chest just enough that he could pretend it wasn’t there. Having his mom finally see how he felt about her, how much he regretted leaving, was like putting an ice pack on a burn. It eased the pain for the moment, had him thinking maybe that would be enough, that it would heal properly. But the ice pack’s melted, now; it’s gone back to room temperature, and his heart is still screaming.

Luke wonders what else he would have to do to get rid of the guilt.

He knows -- he hopes -- that the guilt won’t follow him to the afterlife. Because it’s really the only thing about this ghost-limbo that he wants to escape from. He doesn’t mind the invisibility, or the intangibility, because those things have never really prevented him from playing music. Music, though, he’ll miss, but Luke thinks it’s a small price to pay. After all, Alex and Reggie should’ve had their whole lives to play music. And even if Luke crosses over, they still can. He’s the one who caused their untimely deaths in the first place.

And he can never undo that, but… something he’s realized as all of them have adjusted to being ghosts is that he’s not really needed.

Sunset Curve could go on as a trio. Julie would still have her found family in Alex and Reggie and Willie. Reggie would have his friends that remained, as well as Ray and Carlos to fill in any gaps.

And Alex and Willie would have each other.

For Willie, the whole concept of “unfinished business” is just… not really on his radar. He’s pretty content in his afterlife. He is, as the kids say, vibing. He’s moving along, singing a song. He was never in any rush to figure out what his unfinished business was, and he was especially never in any rush to cross over, to fade out of existence entirely and into the unknown.

He also never really understood why other ghosts would want to do that. Until he met Alex and the others, and realized that sometimes, urgency forces your hand. Outside circumstances throw you out of your comfort zone, force you to do things you never would’ve considered before.

But also, since meeting Alex, the tiny part of his soul that’s always been curious about what his unfinished business was -- curious about crossing over, about what’s on the other side -- has pretty much shriveled away to nothing. Alex gives a whole new meaning to Willie’s life -- to his afterlife, really -- but the drummer makes him feel alive again in a way that he hasn’t felt in decades. Long before he’d forgotten the age-old saying, look both ways before you cross the street.

Willie wouldn’t call himself the most observant person on Earth. Sometimes, he can be a little oblivious. He can be blinded to the truth, only see what he wants to see -- he can deny what’s right in front of him. Give people the benefit of the doubt who don’t deserve it, like he’s done with Caleb so many times before.

He tries not to stress about things. Tries to just be. Live -- or do whatever he’s doing as a ghost, honestly -- with no regrets, no looking back. He doesn’t worry about consequences. But at the same time, he’s also scared of disappointing people. Scared of how he’s coming across to other people. He needs to make sure he’s not messing up too too badly, because he wants the people he loves to love him back -- he wants them to want him to stick around.

So he pays attention. He misses stuff sometimes, sure… but Willie’s mission in his afterlife is simple. Chill out, do whatever he wants to do -- it’s not like he can get caught; he’s invisible. Just don’t get on Caleb Covington’s bad side.

Love whoever he still can, and be loved back.

Willie loves Alex. He’s loved him since the museum. He’s needed him since he ran into him on the street with his skateboard. But lately, Willie’s started to realize that he might also love Luke. Not any more or less than he loves Alex, which is a confusing problem in itself. And not really in a different way than Alex, either. His heart does somersaults when he’s around Luke now, too.

He might need him in different ways than Alex, though. Alex calms him down, grounds him when his head’s in the clouds or he’s too distracted by other things. He brings him back, makes him aware of what’s most important in the moment. He makes him laugh. Makes him think. Makes him stop and appreciate everything around him, instead of just whipping through his afterlife with no concerns. Alex makes him care.

But Luke… With Luke, it feels like he’s stuck upside-down at the top of a roller coaster, but there’s no one else he’d rather be stuck with. He feels more dangerous with Luke, willing to do things that he’s too scared to drag Alex into. He feels like there’s no limits. In one of Luke’s songs, he wrote face first, full charge, and that’s the exact energy he brings when he’s around Willie -- when he’s around anyone, really. He’s passionate, and driven, and so unafraid. Willie doesn’t have to be as careful around Luke.

And they’re both super protective of Alex.

Willie needs Alex for the slow rollercoaster ride to the top of the hill, and he needs Luke for laughter, for thrill, for excitement. For the thrilling, twisty way back down.

Willie’s not sure that anything feels complete without Alex and Luke.

So, since they’re both a part of Willie in ways that he can’t even really explain, Willie watches. He pays attention to both of them, taking in everything about them in quiet, soft, subtle ways.

That’s how he starts to notice that something’s off with Luke.

A week goes by, the pages in Luke’s notebook are dwindling, and he still has no idea what his unfinished business is.

It’s frustrating, having to narrow his entire life down to one possible milestone he’s never gotten to achieve. There are far too many. And the nagging voice in the back of Luke’s head -- the one telling him that Alex and Reggie have just as many milestones -- isn’t helping matters at all.

Luke just wants all this to be over. He deserves it -- he’s not sure whether he deserves the questionable peace crossing over would bring; everyone always says death is peaceful, anyway. But he definitely deserves the “no longer existing” part. And Alex and Reggie do deserve it. They deserve everything that life -- or afterlife, really -- can still offer them. Luke’s tired of holding them back. It feels like nothing’s ever good enough -- like he’s wearing shoes made out of lead, or something, trying to walk across a desert, and he’s got a time limit to get there. And Alex and Reggie are chained to him -- stuck in the same predicament, because they just had to follow him to that hot dog stand. He’s tired of getting them into these messes. First death; and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, into the Hollywood Ghost Club with Caleb Covington, all because he just couldn’t let his grudge against Bobby -- Trevor Wilson -- die.

He’s still writing music, but his lyrics aren’t as powerful anymore. They’re not as confident, not as inspiring. And he writes with Julie, but he thinks Julie can tell that his spark has dimmed.

He hopes that she thinks he’s just going through writer’s block, or something. Something fixable.

He’s been working on his list for the past week, too. He thinks he’s got his unfinished business pretty much narrowed down; there’s three things on his list he wants to try. School. Bass. Emily.

He needs Reggie’s help with the bass one, so he’s been putting it off. And Emily…

Luke has tried to steer clear of his old house since Julie gave his parents the song. Because… the fact that it didn’t help, that it didn’t ease the ache in his heart in exactly the way Julie hoped that it would, made Luke feel guilty. And he doesn’t really want to see if the song made a difference for his parents. Because what if it didn’t?

What if they’re like Luke, just wishing for more? More interaction that they can never have -- an actual conversation about the regrets that he touched on in the song? A physical hug, the weight of their arms around each other, a look of real, actual understanding in their eyes that Luke’s never thought he would actually see.

And the thing is… if his parents are Luke’s unfinished business, what the hell is he supposed to do about it?

The prospect of being chained to the Earth forever because of something he’d screwed up beyond repair when he was alive has his stomach churning, almost as badly as it was when he’d eaten that hot dog.

The easiest one for Luke to focus on is school -- which, if someone had said to him twenty-five years ago that school would be at the top of his priority list, he’d have laughed in their face -- and the easiest way for him to do it is through Julie.

Julie’s sufficiently banned him from actually showing up at her school, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do other things. Like homework and studying. So Luke’s plan is this: he’ll study with Julie, maybe convince her to let him do a couple of her homework assignments. And if she aces her next math test because of the work they’ve done together, Luke’ll consider it a win.

It’s the best option he has. It’s not like he can sit in a classroom anymore, or take his own tests.

He sneaks up on her one afternoon as she’s sitting in her bedroom, chewing on a pencil, face scrunched in confusion.

“Hey, Jules. Whatcha doin?”

At the sound of his voice, Julie looks up at him and her confusion transforms into a smile. “Hey, Luke! Just homework.”

“Need any help?” He shuffles a little closer to the bed, mindful of Julie’s distaste for having the boys in her room.

Julie’s face flips back to confusion like a lightswitch. “You… want to help me with my homework?”

“Yeah!” Luke huffs out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… was curious, I guess. About what you’re learning in school.”

“Why?”

“You know, I never finished high school!” Luke says. “I’ve kind of always wondered what it would’ve been like if I had. Y’know, walking across a stage in that dumb cap and gown. Um -- accomplishing something. Being able to finish something important!”

He’s saying too much -- he knows by the way Julie’s expression shifts, confusion into curiosity into concern.

“Hey, wait,” she says, placing her pencil down and closing her textbook. “Are you okay? Is there something you want to talk about, Luke?”

“What? No! I’m fine!”

He hates the way his voice comes out, rough and high-pitched and decidedly not fine. Julie looks like she’s about to argue, so he opens his dumb, not-fine, impulsive mouth once again. “Seriously, Jules. I’m good. Gotta go meet the boys now, see ya!”

He poofs away, but he can still see Julie’s worried stare still fixed on him behind his eyelids.

“Don’t you think he’s been acting kinda strange?”

Willie is sitting in the garage, Reggie on the couch to his right and Alex behind him, braiding his hair like he does when he gets nervous.

And he’s trying to console Alex, to tell him to relax, that they’ll make sure Luke is fine -- only the confidence that Willie’s normally so famous for is dwindling.

Alex is worried about Luke, and Willie would love to reassure him, except that Willie thinks that Alex has a point. Luke has been acting strange lately; way too over the top during rehearsals, more trips to see his mom than usual -- trips that he thinks they don’t know about -- plus, he’s been reading books.

Julie’s school books, which he takes out of her room sometimes and stashes up on top of the loft. Books that Alex found there earlier that day, when he was looking for his drumsticks. Books that Alex had asked Willie about… and they’d both determined that it was Luke who had brought them up there, because Reggie wouldn’t hide the fact that he was teaching himself Trigonometry, and Luke’s been acting really weird as it is.

“You said he’s doing math?” Reggie asks, eyes wide. Willie figures Reggie must know just as well as he does -- if not better -- what Luke doing math could mean: that he’s not acting like himself.

“Yes!” Willie flails, waving his arms wildly -- to make a point -- and knocking into his boyfriend, who flinches back, tugging on Willie’s hair in the process.

“Ow!”

“Well you didn’t have to jump like that!” Alex hisses back. “Stop moving. I’m trying to stress-braid.”

“Sorry, Alex,” Willie sighs, straightening himself on the sofa. Sometimes, Alex just needs to stress-braid his hair. It gives him something to do with his hands; it’s a way for him to occupy his mind -- to focus on things other than the anxiety. And Willie’s usually all too happy to provide that service (what feels better than having your hair braided, especially by a boy you love?)

“Do you think he’s okay?” Alex mumbles, fingers once again fumbling through Willie’s hair in his unpracticed, clumsy way.

“Why don’t you guys just talk to him?” Reggie asks. “D’you have any idea what could be wrong?”

“No,” Willie huffs. “He’s just been acting so weird. I know it’s something. He’s doing stuff that he’s never cared about before -- like math. But also just… the stuff he normally loves, music. He’s… acting like it’s gonna be taken away from him, or something. Haven’t you noticed how hard he’s pushing you guys in band practice?”

“He’s acting like… like we’re running out of time,” Alex realizes. “But why?”

Just then, the boy in question poofs into the garage -- like he was rushing to get there; his landing’s not clean, and he stumbles around for a moment before catching himself on one of the microphone stands. He straightens up and sees that he has an audience.

“Hey -- hey, guys,” he stammers. “What’s up? We gonna practice?”

His eyes fix on Reggie, then, and he perks up. “Oh! Reg! I’ve been meaning to ask you -- can you teach me how to play the bass?”

“Can I--” Reggie stops, stares at Luke for a moment, trying to piece everything together.

Alex, though, right in front of Willie behind the sofa, looks like he’s already figured it out. He blinks at Luke. “You want to learn how to play bass?”

“I always have,” Luke shrugs. Alex studies him, and Luke twitches under his gaze.

“I just thought it would be cool, ya know, to know all our instruments. So can you teach me, Reg?”

“Um -- I --” Reggie’s eyes dart between Alex, Willie, and Luke, probably trying to figure out what the right thing to say is. Willie doesn’t know, exactly, but he knows one thing for sure: there’s no way Luke’s sudden interest in learning the bass is a coincidence.

Alex seems to be on the same page, but unlike Willie, he’s more inclined to take charge, to do something about it. “Reg, can we talk to Luke alone for a minute?”

“Yes,” Reggie lets out a sigh of relief and poofs away, leaving Willie and Alex to deal with… whatever this is. Willie still isn’t totally sure.

He’s once again enormously grateful for Alex, and the fact that his boyfriend has a pretty good handle on what’s going on in the world seventy-five percent of the time. Because it shocks Willie just as much as it does Luke when Alex says, “Why are you trying to cross over?”

What?

Willie hasn’t put the pieces together nearly as well as Alex has -- in fact, he feels like they’ve been working on entirely different puzzles. Why would Luke be trying to cross over? Why would he want to leave all the guys, and Julie, behind forever?

He wouldn’t. It doesn’t make sense.

Except the second the words leave Alex’s mouth, Luke freezes, eyes wide like he’s been tossed into the path of an oncoming train, shoes welded to its tracks.

And Willie starts to think that maybe his boyfriend wasn’t so far off the mark, after all.

“There are people who love you, you know.”

Luke blinks up at Alex, still frozen, still thrown for a loop, still… not understanding how Alex figured him out.

“How do you think we’d feel if you crossed over?” Alex continues, his intense gaze still fixed on Luke, Luke squirming uncomfortably underneath it. “Without us? Is that… is that something you want?”

Alex’s voice finally cracks, betraying the emotion underneath it, and it’s almost too much for Luke to take. His wild eyes dart around the studio, looking for something -- anything -- to focus on, to take him out of the moment… and he finds the string lights, hung across the walls and the ceilings. He starts counting the bulbs, reciting the numbers in his head. He only makes it to seven before Willie’s voice breaks his concentration.

“Luke?”

“How… how did you know that’s what I was trying to do?” Luke mumbles.

“Well… the math’s what clued me in,” Willie lets out a half-hearted laugh as Alex takes slow steps around the sofa and sits down.

“Come here,” he calls out to Luke -- and although every bone in Luke’s body is screaming run, get out, get far, far away from this conversation… he finds himself joining them, sitting down in the spot on the couch they’ve made in between them.

“We just want you to know there are people who love you,” Willie says. “People -- people who need you, Luke. You can’t leave us, okay? You can’t cross over. Not without us.”

“But you -- you guys and Reggie and Julie -- you don’t need me.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex asks. “Of course we--”

“You and Reg would still be alive if it weren’t for me,” Luke growls. “So don’t say you need me. All I do is mess everything up. You guys, our careers, my parents…”

“Hang on, Luke,” Alex reaches a hand out, momentarily caught off guard. Luke doesn’t see why; it’s not like what he said was that complicated. He’s messed up. He breaks things. He ruined his parents’ lives by running away. He almost ruined Julie’s life, by getting involved with Caleb. And -- and Alex and Reggie…

“None of that’s your fault,” Alex says with conviction.

“Alex--”

“No!” Alex gets up, suddenly, and starts to pace around the room, fingers digging through his hair. “You have to know that. We don’t blame you for any of that!”

“Luke, Alex is right,” Willie reaches a hand out, cautiously, and takes one of Luke’s. When Luke doesn’t pull away, Willie pulls him even closer, into his chest, and starts gently running his fingers through Luke’s hair.

Luke sinks into Willie’s chest, eyes following Alex’s nervous pacing -- he’s biting his lip, and his hands are shaking slightly. Luke hadn’t realized that it might be hard on Alex, too, dealing with Luke’s current mental spiral.

He pulls away from Willie, ignoring the other boy’s whine of protest, and sits up to face Alex. “Hey, Alex,” he calls out quietly. “Come back and sit down. I’m-- I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me. Just… take deep breaths, okay?”

“Are you seriously trying to calm me down right now?” Alex snaps. A flash of hurt crosses Luke’s face -- one that he must not be quick enough to hide, because Alex’s own face softens at the sight of it.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Luke… I--”

“Just come back here and hold me, please,” Luke croaks.

Luke… doesn’t cry much, if he can help it. He hates tears, both his own and other people’s, and generally tries to avoid them at all costs. But… the look on Alex’s face, the tone of his voice -- his scared, anxious, desperate voice as he snapped at Luke for trying to calm him down -- has the dam breaking, finally, and the tears are bursting out of Luke’s eyes and running down his face before he even knows what’s happening, running down and soaking into the collar of his flannel shirt.

At the sight of Luke’s tears, Alex startles, and makes a beeline for his side. Luke is thrown into a group hug, Alex and Willie on either side of him.

And he just lets himself cry.

It takes a while, but finally Luke calms down a bit.

He stays on the couch, sandwiched in between two of his favorite people on the planet. Willie’s hands are still running gently through his hair; Alex’s thumb is rubbing small circles on his wrist.

His tears have finally stopped, but there’s this annoying, puffy ache in his head and behind his eyes that feels like it’s going to linger for a while.

It’s quiet, and the quiet allows Luke to think about everything that’s happened that day -- after weeks of his stupid, ill-advised mission to complete his unfinished business, he’s been found out.

And he found out that people -- Alex and Willie, who are love and sunshine and light and everything beautiful about the world personified -- would actually miss him if he was gone. That people care, that they don’t blame him for the stuff that he’s been blaming himself for for months.

It’s… a lot to wrap his head around, and even though the tears have stopped, the uncertainty and anxiety and desire to not be a burden is still swirling around in his head, leaving him silent and still as he sits there in between Alex and Willie, his head now resting on Willie’s shoulder.

He knows that those feelings, like the ache he feels in his heart and his head, will probably be around a while.

“I’m sorry for making you worry ‘bout me,” he mumbles, burrowing his face even deeper into Willie’s loose-fitting sweatshirt. Willie’s arms wrap around him and hold him there, and Luke takes in a deep, slow breath, inhaling Willie’s musky scent, shutting his eyes in the first moment of contentment he’s felt in weeks.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Alex whispers. “None of it’s your fault. There are people who love you. We…”

He stops, and Luke turns his head as much as Willie’s grip will allow to try to see why. He’s able to just peek at Alex out of the corner of his eye, and he sees that the other boy’s frowning. Like he’s unsure of what he’s about to say. Like he’s nervous.

“Alex?” Luke struggles out of Willie’s grip, and reluctantly, the other boy lets him go. He shuffles to the other side of the sofa, closer to Alex, and the drummer opens his arms for Luke willingly.

Being in Alex’s arms is different than being in Willie’s, too. Alex is sturdier; less teddy-bear like than Willie is, but comforting and warm and inviting all the same. Alex’s arms feel like home just as much as Willie’s do, and Luke melts into the hug instantly, like an ice cream cone on the hot pavement in July. Alex’s hand runs up and down Luke’s back and Luke shivers, eyes threatening to slip closed despite his need to hear Alex’s answer.

“Willie and I love you, Luke,” Alex says softly. There’s no more uncertainty -- a hint of nervousness, but Luke doesn’t doubt what Alex is saying for a second. There’s a conviction in his tone -- a confidence -- that Alex only really uses when talking about people he loves. This… defensiveness, this love, this conviction.

“We don’t have to figure everything out now,” Alex continues -- probably realizing Luke’s been through enough that day. Luke appreciates that, actually. There’s only one answer he would ever give to Alex and Willie -- only one thing his heart’s ever wanted; Luke can see it now, now that the sound of his heartbeat is pulsing in his ears, now that he feels like he’s both standing on the edge of a mountain, about to take a leap of faith into the crisp winter air below -- and at the same time, on solid ground, in no danger of falling, of stumbling, of getting hurt. He feels safe and exhilarated all at the same time, and this feeling is both familiar and completely new, more amplified than it usually is. Not what he’s used to.

But Luke feels like he’s ready to take the leap now. He still feels guilty, still isn’t actually sure whether his friends -- his family -- would be better off without him. But Alex and Willie have never steered him wrong before.

When he’s sitting in between them, their arms around him and their warm, soft hands running through his hair… Luke feels like maybe he can get through anything.

#julie and the phantoms #julie & the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #luke patterson #alex mercer #willie wilbur williamson #lalexie #angst #prompt fill

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