Summary: When a lonely soul decides to spend her morning on a beach she is unpleasantly surprised to find that she isn’t alone and a lot has changed except her feelings.
A dreamy sea has a rhythmic pulse to it unmatched by any other part of nature. It forges its own sounds and kindles its own symphony as the waves crawl gently to the shore. Maybe that’s why she admired the Aruban beach so much or maybe it was the isolation of it all. Something she’d come to be so accustomed to. Her loneliness is like standing in the middle of a bustling city, watching people rush by without feeling like you're even remotely connected to them.
No, it's not the same as being alone; being alone is more a state of physical being than it is a state of soul and emotion. You're surrounded by all these people who never seem to truly understand you and who seem like they will never understand the fears and deepest thoughts that tug at your heart. It's not that they don't care about you or truly try to help you -- it's simply that feeling that they will never understand you, no matter how much you explain. It's that craving for love and connection beyond the surface level. Loneliness leads you to feel like you're literally watching the world go by, not part of anything in particular.
Being physically alone though on the beach was nothing new she had to say, but much to her displeasure she wasn’t alone. She spotted a figure in the distance much closer to the shore bare feet in the sand because washed by the gentle waters inching closer. The figure was tall and held a domineering stance and rigid posture she couldn’t shake.
He stood with his face up toward the sun as if taking in the rays of shine and simply basking in its warmth like a bath. He donned white shorts and a plain light blue short sleeved shirt just regular beach attire she shrugged off. He ran his hand through his tussle of chocolate brown curls and visibly breathed deeply taking in the silence quiet and free from disturbance but loud enough to be calming all the same.
It wasn’t until he turned around and they locked eyes from her sitting position did her grow wide and her posture go rigid did she realize this was no mere man or stranger on the beach at all. It was him. Her one that got away. The man that used to make her heart skip a beat with just a simple touch or look, the love of her life. The one that got away. After all this time he was still a part of her. She could still feel the way she beats nearly out of her chest at his mere presence and there’s a certain ache that still makes her feel like she is still in love with him.
For years he’d been the last thing on her mind before she went to sleep the reason for the teardrops on her pillow. Why even after all this time she hadn’t been able to get over him even after deciding to let him go which was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. She tried to get rid of them, the memories, yet she still cannot, because those memories are so ebullient and hard to forget. They're still in her heart's chamber.
She wanted him to know so much, that she loved him. Still she did, her feelings were never a joke and that everytime she told him “I love you” way back when it came from the bottom of her heart. The moment she told him that his embrace made her feel so much comfortable and forget all her problems in life, yes she was honest with that. She was so honest for all the feelings she harbored deep inside. She cherished the moments shared and wouldn’t ever forget how she felt every time she was with him and all she’d put them through.
She wanted to go to him. Her heart told her to run into his arms and rekindle what they had once had but body stayed situated and stuck in place as she continued to stare at the once love of her life and the man she couldn’t ever seem to get over. That she still held a flame larger than life for. He sent a gentle smile but his eyes told a different story of love, so much love. But her happiness died disgustingly hard when realized he hadn’t seen her at all. Instead his attention had been directed behind her where his eyes alighted unfathomably bright at the sight of a woman and a small girl with a little brown dog.
The woman was absolutely stunning. She truly was what women paid to look like, if perfection didn’t exist she was an exception truthfully. Her tanned brown skin could’ve been glowing in the bright sun and beautiful features were highlighted stunningly by the carefree smile alighted on her face. As she held the smallest girl who took after her seeming to be mother exponentially. The girl held their mother’s golden brown complexion and dark curly hair but those eyes; they were unmistakably blue. A bright blue that resembled those indigo blues she knew all too well.
They were Ethan’s and the woman’s children. Her thoughts were only confirmed when the little girl wrestled her way out of her mother’s arms, raising a laugh from the woman as she ran into her fathers arms with the puppy trailing behind her. She hadn’t ever seen him look so happy and at peace. But when the woman made her way to him and hugged him from behind the way his face lit up was foreign to him; even in their time together she’d never made him look like that with just a simple hug.
He wasted no time in bringing her into his embrace and kissing her deeply, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and being borderline affectionate. There was no doubt in her mind that Ethan Ramsey, a man who had no time for marriage or family loved the woman that donned a heavy diamond ring on her finger as he held it up and kissed each knuckle tenderly earning a moan of discontent from the little girls. It was adorable really they looked like a picture perfect family. What you’d see in movies really. Hell they even had a small dog with them that she hadn’t noticed till now.
It had finally hit her, she had to move on. She needed to let go of all that held her back: her love for a man who’d absolutely moved on, after all he was her first love. The very first love that she had experienced in her whole life. It felt melancholic for she had lost him. Maybe they were meant to spend the good times together, it’s just fate took its turn, she was able to hurt him and he did too and well she guessed that was inevitable. Then they parted ways and new beginnings came their way, you chose her over what a naive girl thought was forever kind of love. But it’s okay because she’ll get used to it. She promised herself and hopefully soon it’ll be without bitterness or anger.
Her therapist had told her some time ago before she left for the medical conference in Aruba that when she needed to get something out and she wasn’t available to try and write it out, in a letter of sorts. So she did just that and she wrote a goodbye later her lost love would never receive and not for him but for her. So she swiftly left the beach as undetected as when she arrived and made her way back inside the resort and found a pen and paper in her hotel room and got to writing. She wrote till her hand cramped and her tears stained the paper.
Dearest Ethan,
I wish you happiness love, even if that happiness doesn't include me anymore. It's just that I have to accept the fact that I was no longer a part of you and you of me. Thank you for everything. If I would be given a chance to get back from where we started I will still have that small talk with you in the hallway about her physics class we had together. I will still choose to fall in love with you because you're the best thing ever happened to me, maybe our bittersweet love story has ended after I’d hurt you the way I did. I thought the grass was greener on the other side and I was wrong but I found out all too late. But the last thing that I want to say is in another life I would be your girl so I don't have to say you were the one that got away. And I’m sorry not only to you but to myself...and Tobias.
Love,
Someone you used to know
As she sealed the letter she closed a chapter to her life that wouldn’t ever be opened again. And somehow she moved on. Ethan belonged to the beautiful with the brown skin and curly hair and somehow someway Suparna had to be okay with that. She wasn’t thinking when she sent the letter via bell boy to his room she only asked that it be deliverers to Dr. Ethan Ramsey and lied saying it regarded information about the medical conference he’d been invited to. And with that she went to her bed and fell into a restful sleep dreaming of what could’ve been.
————————————————————————————————
After an eventful day at the beach which was great until Charisma decided to put sand in Jenner’s fur. The act prompted the family to make their way back to the suite and give the girl and the pup a good bath before dinner which was much harder than it looked. Jenner was absolutely refusing and kept shaking his wet little sandy body as often as he could making the largest mess he possibly could. He had given up on chasing the three year old who’d decided that baths weren’t her thing and decided she’d rather run naked throughout the hotel room. Finally he’d washed and dried Jenner and put him in the dog bed with some toys to keep him busy. His love thankfully relieved him of his daddy duties and got Charisma ready for bed. A knock on the door interrupted his short reprieve that involved what he needed most at the moment a glass of scotch.
He answered the door and was met with a bellhop delivering him a letter that he took suspiciously wishing the boy a good night. He wasted no time in opening the letter and reading its contents that quite confused him. His thought process was soon interrupted by a warm hug from the love of his life as she placed her chin on his chest.
“Who’s it from?” She gently inquired. He only shook his head and shrugged in response. “No one important.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah I’m alright.” And with that he took his wife’s hand and couldn’t help but to admire the diamond ring that was just made for her and kissed her ring finger tenderly as he and Charlotte made their way to their daughters room to read her at least three stories before she finally turned in only to have her come in their bed later. But they wouldn’t have it any other way.
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 more sweeps of my tongue, 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 her 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 on 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 adjusts her knees 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 hips 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, wearing that delicious three piece 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’s been fucking; 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 later that night. 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, I need you. Don’t let this fuck up what we got,” 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 down and brushes his lips against mine, and the butterflies 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. “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.” I kiss him slowly, deeply, using my mouth and tongue to show him just how sorry I am.
“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 my soft groan. 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 and reaches behind me to squeeze my ass. 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 happier to fly to 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 couch 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 partially clothed 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 a whole lot of it 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 cups 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, to catch the precum. Roman grips 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 a blowjob, tossing the scrap of material onto his chest. He holds it up to his nostrils and groans 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 right at him.
“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. It’s Caleb. My heart jolts when I see his 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 in exasperation. “Oh for fuck’s sake, are we doing this again?”
After all this time, he still doesn’t get it. “Are you being serious right now?” I say angrily, seeing red.
“It’s the fucking 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.”
“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 annoyance. “Tori, 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!”
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. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just a little frustrated is all.”
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 our 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, Tori. 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.
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. His hands creep down between my legs, palming my sex as I moan again.
“Mmm, dripping for me as usual. I love how wet you get when you’re pissed off.”
My loins moisten some more at the sound of him stroking his shaft 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 half-naked and out in the open air.
“Unnnnhh…” I can’t help but whine. He feels so good.
He rewards me with a wet kiss on my neck. “That's it, baby, watch the beautiful sunset while I fuck my pussy.” He gathers my braids in his fist 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 falling 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 would fuck 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. And now it’s my turn. 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 tomorrow morning to end it with your whore. Or I post everything I have online, and your fans will finally see you and your girlfriend 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 morning, but this 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, 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 him down, 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. “Was it 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 in a while. “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 divorce me 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 while ago. I just like being around you, being there for you. You make me feel good, T, and not just sexually, ya know.” 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 never felt 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...”
…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 have to deal with me anymore than you have to,” I gripe.
“Don’t be like that. If you were pregnant, I’d have 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?” His hands slide past my hips and down to my butt, pulling me flush against him.
“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. He kisses my cheek, breathing me in, and then the moment his lips touch mine, I melt into nothingness. He grabs 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 roof, filled with promises we knew would be broken, but choosing to dive in anyway. It was just like this - hot and devouring, 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 chest 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.
“Roman…” The tears I've been fighting back fall. He’s killing me. I am so weak right now.
“You were right. I should have 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 happy with Tracee. But I love you. I'm in love with you and I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. But I can't have you and it's my fault and I have to live with it.”
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’re 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 doing the same for 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.
i love tony as much as the next person but like…. r u ok 🥺
This isn’t about Tony, hon! It is about how Stony people are always trying to act like Pepper was some mere incubator for Morgan instead of what she actually is, HER MOTHER!
If you want to a kid for Tony and Steve (gag me), use Peter!
PEPPER POTTS IS MORGAN”S MOTHER, HER LITERAL FLESH AND BLOOD! Steve Rogers had no part of her coming into being!
Let me tell you why this bothers me. Have you even read the tattoo AU because if you did you’d know peppers role as a mother was never erased and that she and tony merely weren’t together and they didn’t work.
If this bothers you that much....get help. And it’s not you opinion when your attacking someone’s else’s work with generalizations because your upset that pep and tony aren’t together and she’s mainly a side character in this fic.
Catch up here! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
A/N: Hello again! Sorry I have been an inactive bitch but I have my finals this month and so ive been studying like crazyyy. Anyway I was going to release the last two chapters one after the other so I finished this chapter a while ago, but as my exams are coming closer, I realised finishing the series will take a while so im releasing this one now. Ive thrown in some Macbeth and Gatsby references bc im a whore for literature, so I hope you enjoy :))
Warnings: I dive into the mindset of an abuser in this chapter, so this fic may not be for everyone; gun violence, mentions of abuse, gaslighting; strong language; maybe spelling/grammar mistakes but I dont think so?? I checked pretty thoroughly
A virus is a parasite that can only live and replicate inside other cells. It can enter the cell either by direction fusion and smoothly enter the host cell, or it can manipulate the receptors on the cell membrane into believing it is a desired molecule and become enveloped into the cell. If successful, the virus will take control of the cell’s machinery without interference and force the cell to fashion new proteins that will eventually create more viruses. In one cycle, the lysogenic cycle, the phage virus assimilates itself into the cell’s DNA, remaining secretly dormant within the identity of the host. Quickly, the cell blindly replicates thousands of new viruses without any knowledge of its exploitation - not until it’s too late, and the only way for the cell to save the body is by committing cell suicide, or by being destroyed by the virus. Either way, the cell dies.
Scott was a parasite, and he fucking knew it.
Scott couldn’t believe it. He turned his eyes to his wife, who looked so beautiful sleeping ever so peacefully on the white-linen bed, ruby hair haloing her head and fanning across her delicate shoulders, which he had kissed and caressed so many times, lips slightly parted like a teasing welcome-home gift, and he couldn’t believe how she had been mistreated.
By Doctor Kaneko.
His attention snapped to the young doctor standing beside her, who’s eyes were paralysed on his sturdy frame. As his eyes bore through the doctor’s deep brown hues, he felt a boiling rage bubble violently inside, like the splashes of lava that appear right before a volcano erupts; to think that a doctor would manipulate his wife into believing she was being abused tore through his gut with the formidable blade of Macbeth’s madness, and it drove him to the edge of insanity.
His wife - his prized possession - was being abused by the doctor she had unequivocally trusted not to hurt her: the thought burnt through his body with a wicked flame. All of this crap was just to steal her away from him.
No. He wouldn’t let the doctor hurt her anymore. He wouldn’t let the doctor take her away from him. It was time for him to be the hero.
“What the fuck is going on?” He spat with causticity, causing his wife to jolt awake as a Pavlovian reaction. A surge of insatiable anger intoxicated Scott’s veins, and he allowed it to fuel his every move, enjoying the look of pure dread on the young doctor’s face. He loved the taste of terror that tainted the atmosphere.
“The fuck is this shit?” He violently ripped the pages of notes from the chart, startling the doctor and making his wife retreat in her bed. He read from the chart with a mocking and patronising tone. “‘I feel like I am walking on eggshells all the time’.” His eyes shot to the doctor. “Pathetic.”
He slowly stalked to the edge of the bed and closer to the door, allowing his capriciousness to keep the doctor on his toes.
“I see what you’re doing, Doctor Kaneko.” Scott growled in an acrid tone. “You really thought you could keep me in the dark? You really thought you could get away with all this? Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot?”
The doctor stood frozen at the spot like a marble pillar, daring his confidence with his unwavering fixation on Scott’s movements.
With every word Scott spoke, his voice grew louder and louder, inflecting acidity in every consonant with biting punctiliousness. “I trusted you. I trusted you to do your job. I trusted you to look after my wife. And then I find this shit?” His temper snapped. The doctor instinctively jumped back, and Scott noticed a fragment of juvenility in his eyes, as if this moment was bringing him back to an event in his childhood. Scott jumped off the thought before he could pursue it.
In a sporadic moment of desperation, his wife leaped out of the bed and stood defensively in front of the doctor, taking back both he and Doctor Kaneko, whose eyes widened at her action.
He couldn’t believe it. His wife was trying to protect this… this monster?
Scott fixed his eyes on the part of the doctor’s forehead that he was about to put a bullet through. Very slowly and circumspectly, Scott’s hand reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the gun. He raised it with a steady hand and aimed it directly at that spot on the doctor’s head.
One tiny movement of his finger and there would be no dangerous doctor, only a corpse.
- - - — — — - - -
Chris found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. An actual gun. He couldn’t see all of it, just this ominous, empty black eye staring back at him. He had seen a gun before - his dad didn’t exactly hide it - but he had never actually been addressed by a gun, and had it judge him with the ominosity of an unblinking, empty eye. He stared into its void, and saw nothing.
It was paralysing.
But, as his eyes were greeted with dark emptiness, he soon realised a vital error he had been framing his entire plan around - one that could potentially lead to Rose’s death with a sick twist of irony. He thought back to the way Scott was caressing her hair, looking down on her, answering her questions for her, demanding to find answers - all of his actions were fuelled by his warped and sadistic idea of love. He loved her. It all made sense now.
And when his attention returned to the gun, he swore he could see the black eye twinkle.
- - - — — — - - -
“Ethan -”
“Are the police on their way? What about switchboard - what did they say?” Ethan paced Naveen’s office with the semblance of a caged animal - infuriated and restless, his mind tossing wild possibilities to and fro, allowing the worst case scenarios to stick like magnets in the front of his mind.
Chris could die. Chris could die.
“Ethan -”
“Shouldn’t they be here? What could possibly be taking them so long? Where the fuck are they?” He slammed his fist onto Naveen’s desk, the pain of consequence splintering his hand. The same hands that had caressed and loved now only promised violence and destruction.
Naveen didn’t flinch.
“Ethan,” he began calmly, “we have to go now.”
Ethan’s piercing blue eyes shot to Naveen’s with maddening incredulity. Hopelessness and anger shivered across his pupils.
“Absolutely not.”
Naveen’s voice cleaved the tension with the blade of solid and unwavering assurance. “The police are on their way, Ethan; I’ve just been speaking to them. The orders by switchboard are that we exit the building as quickly and quietly as possible. And I suggest - no, I demand - that we follow them.”
Ethan couldn’t breathe under the weight of the silence that gripped the room.
Intrinsic disputatiousness twisted Ethan’s tongue into a too familiar shape, but Naveen was quicker.
“We take nothing with us.” Naveen’s eyes held Ethan with a powerful reminder of history. “We leave everything behind.”
- - - — — — - - -
“I knew I was right about you.”
Scott took another dangerous step towards Chris and Rose. They were backed against a wall now. Rose was still stood firmly in front of Chris, despite Chris’ furious attempts at pushing her away from the gun.
The heat in the room cloaked Chris in a thick, fleecy blanket, evidenced by the sweat dribbling at the top of his hairline and the wet glue sticking his shirt to his arms. The tension’s palpability became all the more tangible against the jarring click of Scott’s heals against the tiled floor, almost daring Chris with the cold contrast.
Scott’s eyes were dark and snapping.
Chris thought back to the first hour they met and the way Scott had been fawning over Rose as if he truly understood how to love her, and Chris couldn’t believe how easily he’d let himself be fooled by the pristine appearance. Scott looked like the flower, but was the serpent underneath.
He took another step.
Chris and Rose edged closer to the door.
Chris dove into the depths of his fear and managed to find some tenuous strings of confidence. “Put the gun down, Scott.” He successfully vocalised, not knowing what else to say when confronted with a gun. It seemed like it was worth a shot. (And no, he didn’t take the time to appreciate his pun.)
“The fuck I will.” Never mind. Not worth the shot.
“Baby, please drop the gun. Please. You don’t know what you’re doing.” Rose’s voice cracked under the weight of her fear, but the fragments fell at Scott’s feet.
Scott took no notice of her. She was nothing to him right now.
If Chris turned to look at Rose, even slightly, he would have seen how her face was practically glistening like a canvas that had been freshly painted.
Click.
The safety was disabled. Scott was preparing to shoot.
If Rose had turned to look at Chris, even slightly, she would have seen how his face was practically melting underneath the stream of his tears, like the erosion of cliffs due to the sea’s force.
Scott took another step. Death licked its lips deliciously.
The door was getting closer.
“You can’t steal her.” Scott growled. “She’s mine. She belongs to me. I won’t let you take her away from me.”
Fear subsided temporarily, allowing Chris the time to be disgusted by Scott’s objectification and dehumanisation of his wife.
He edged closer to the door.
“Don’t do this.” The words tumbled out of Chris’ as he struggled to articulate thoughts that were buried in tears and overwhelming emotions.
But Chris was no longer thinking of Scott, or the gun, or Rose. His mind was with his mom, who was probably watching the television with her partner right now, and then with his younger brother, who was probably in the middle of some shitty useless college work. He thought about the police arriving at his mother’s house in Maine informing her that her oldest child was shot dead, and how she would crumple to the floor like the patient that had spontaneously collapsed in the waiting room on his first day at work. He thought about she was probably thinking about to make for lunch, and whether she had given the mince enough time to defrost, right as Chris was being threatened with murder.
He then thought about how his mom would tell his brother that he was now an only child.
His thoughts were then suddenly struck with earliest memory, which was when his mom had just painted the walls in their house a beautiful white, and minutes later he had unleashed his paints and began drawing all over them. His memory then unwittingly jumped to a moment when he and his best friend Jack were teenagers, sitting on the floor in his tiny room fucking around with his guitars and writing purposefully shitty music. It spanned to the night they had to sleep on the floor of their first apartment when they were sixteen after moving to New York on their own with no money and no purpose. Then to the moment he got into Columbia Medical School. Then to his mom introducing him to her new partner. Then to Jack’s wedding. Then to meeting Bryce and Jackie in a locker room. Then to drinking with Ethan at Donahue’s.
And after that thought, his mind stopped moving completely.
Ethan.
The taste of his lips. The softness of his hair. The smell of his clothes. The low, scratchy sound of his morning voice. The taste of his skin.
Oh, how he would die a thousand deaths just to kiss his lips one more time.
Scott put his finger on the trigger.
The iciness of his eyes. The ripples of his muscles. The smell of his sweat. The sound of his breathing. The twinkle in his smile.
Scott levelled the gun with the point on Chris’ head.
The way he moves with such an air of pretentious authority. The way he holds himself like he is the only one who matters in a room. The way he speaks as though he already knows the world will silence itself to listen.
“Goodbye, Doctor Kaneko.”
The way he makes you feel. The way he challenges your view on the world without negating its value, or accepting it with a condescending air. The way he holds his principles in such high regard, inspiring you to do the same with yours. The way he looks into your eyes if you’re the only person worth looking at. The way he kisses you, like he would rather challenge the stars than ever kiss another pair of lips.
The way he loves you.
BANG.
- - - — — — - - -
“Never have I ever…dyed my hair.”
It’s 2019. The sky is a thick, creamy black, punctuated by thousands of scattered stars illuminating the outlines of two doctors sitting in deck chairs on the roof of Edenbrook hospital. A comfortable silence fills the occasional short gaps in conversation, unless otherwise broken by the odd car humming miles below, or a glass carefully being placed on the concrete. The air is perfect: not cold enough to mark the duration of their stay, but not hot enough to necessitate the removal of layers.
The younger doctor peers over his shoulder, his mouth slightly twisted into a smile.
The older doctor puts down a finger and looks away.
“No way.” The younger doctor says, breaking into a wide grin. “What color?”
The older doctor coughs and averts his eyes to the floor.
“Green.”
The younger doctor breaks into a giant, sporadic laugh, to which the older doctor shamelessly grins broadly at his joy.
“Please tell me you were in a punk band.”
“I was not.”
“Mmm, not buying it. I knew all this opera had to be a cover up.” The young doctor’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “I can see it now: live at Madison Square Garden…Erection Injection!”
“Oh my fucking God.”
“No? Not cool enough for green-haired Ramsey?”
“Though I am biased, I would like to think I am far cooler than that.”
“Of course you are. Now drink your overpriced liquor and tell me about the next opera you’re going to see in your private box.”
The older doctor scoffs playfully, accepting defeat. “I admit, it was a slight fuck up on my end.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
The older doctor looks directly at his companion.
“It was meant to be blue.”
Another laughing fit erupts from the younger doctor, whose giggling rings like singing angels through the city of Boston. The older doctor takes a swig of his scotch, eyes fixed on the black-haired man sitting next to him with guilty interest.
“My turn.”
“No, wait - I wanna know the story behind that!”
“I’m sorry, Chris, but Dr. Tanaka swore me to secrecy.”
“Doctor Tanaka!?”
The older doctor serves a mischievous smile and returns the glass to the floor.
Chris slumps back into his hair, still slightly giggling, and places his hands in the air.
The older doctor begins. “Never have I ever smoked a joint.”
Chris’ fingers stood still.
“Rookie.”
Chris bites his lip and glances at the older doctor, whose face is hardened with disappointment.
“Don’t hate me just because I know how to have fun.”
“Drugs hardly constitute ‘fun’.”
“Says the man who’s never taken any.”
“I believe I said ‘I have never smoked a joint’, not ‘never taken drugs’.”
“Oh yeah?” Chris manages to choke out through his surprise. “How hard?”
The older doctor brushes off the question. “Nothing hard at all, just some pot brownies and…”
“And?”
He paused. “And it was during my green hair days, which should tell you all you need to know.”
“You’re terrible at dodging questions.”
“You’re terrible at interrogating me.” The older doctor retorts.
Chris smirks. “Mm, I disagree. I basically just got you to reveal your secret second life. Doctor by day, Drug Lord by night.”
The older doctor scoffs and takes a swig of scotch. “Hardly. This was back in college when I was acting out. Childishly, might I add.”
“So if this was during your green-haired wild-child days in college, then…” Chris leaves the older doctor to pick up the remaining ashes of his sentence, who needs no further prompting in deciphering Chris’ thoughts.
“Tanaka and I have known each other for years. We went to the same college, stayed in contact when our medical schools sent us in different directions, and then personally reconnected at Edenbrook. Believe me, we get up to all sorts of antics.”
The two doctors gaze into the freckled city stretching out before them.
“I still can’t believe you have a whole other life I don’t know about. Who knew the reputable Ethan Ramsey wasn’t as straight as he seemed?”
“I think Miami’s already answered that.”
Chris almost chokes on his scotch, then breaks out into another fit of giggles.
“I need to get you drunk more often.”
“That is a dangerous proposition.” Ethan hums, remembering the complex of wine and chemistry that fuelled their infamously intoxicating Miami kiss.
Chris twinkles, his mind paralleling Ethan’s. “Exactly.”
A comfortable silence settles between them as their eyes soak in the throbbing lights of the city.
“You’re not so bad, Rookie.”
Chris looks over at Ethan, surprised by his sudden confession. He grins. “I think there might be a compliment buried in there.”
Ethan smirks. “Think again.”
Their eyes catch each other. Neither look away, entranced by the other’s rich pools of hue encased within passionate enamoration, nursed by alcohol-induced drooping eyelids as their bodies are slowly overcome with relaxed contentment.
Chris’ eyes let themselves fall onto Ethan’s petal lips, which are still infused with the memory of their last kiss at the opera. They remain there almost magnetically, as if they would disappear into the dark night if Chris dares to look away.
Unable to stop himself, Ethan very slowly stretches out his arm and rests his fingers on Chris’ chin, softly lifting it up. He then tenderly runs his thumb on Chris’ bottom lip, savouring the soft texture against his skin; Chris slightly parts his lips in a welcoming response. It’s the first time they’ve touched each other like this since Miami.
Before Ethan can pull away, Chris delicately kisses Ethan’s thumb, his eyes fixed on Ethan through his thick eyelashes. A small smile dances on Ethan’s lips. Chris kisses his thumb again, and again, and again, dragging his tongue across the pattern of his fingerprint, until Ethan sighs and reluctantly draws his thumb over to Chris’ cheek, cupping his face tenderly in his hand.
Chris leans into his touch, not offended by the gesture, but understanding.
They allow themselves the luxury of staying like this for a moment with Ethan gingerly caressing Chris’ cheek, as if his skin could melt away with too much pressure. Chris’ eyes flutter shut as he bathes in the moment, savouring the feeling of Ethan’s skin on his own.
The darkness kindly lends them anonymity from the eyes of Ethan’s principles, and thus they are able to take a sip from the goblet of freedom - just for tonight, just for this moment.
But alas, Ethan knows himself, and he knows that if he doesn’t pull away now, he never will. His arm slowly retreats back into his frame as Chris’ eyes soften with understanding.
They remain like this, drinking each other in against the moon-bleached environment and under the promissory silence of the stars. It is everything.
“I’m so happy, Ethan.” Chris murmurs softly.
A small exhale escapes Ethan’s lips as gazes upon Chris’ face.
“So am I.”
And as the younger doctor sits in his shitty deckchair, dripping in the moon’s silver ethereality, with the older doctor’s eyes solely on him, he swears this is the happiest he has ever been in his life.
- - - — — — - - -
That moment - Chris’ favourite memory - was the one thought that punctuated his mind right before Scott pulled the trigger. Right as Scott decided to take his life, Chris was reminded of his own, and was struck with a sudden urge of inexorable determination like a shot of adrenaline.
“Goodbye, Doctor Kaneko.”
BANG.
The bullet ripped through the air. Rose screamed.
But it didn’t hit Chris. It hit the wall.
Chris dodged out the way. His hand found Rose and gripped her arm, then yanked her out the room along with him, slamming the door behind him.
They barely had time to run.
Death snapped with impatience.
Chris threw himself behind a large nursing cart a few patient rooms down and looked to the side to make sure Rose wasn’t hurt.
Rose wasn’t there.
Bleeding through the deafening ringing in his ears was the sound of footsteps pattering quickly away from him, and Chris quickly realised she was running in the opposite direction. She was on her own.
He was on his own.
Something wet trickled against his temple; confused, Chris went to touch it, and as he looked at his hand, he saw a deep red lace his fingertips. The bullet had grazed his temple. He had only just managed to escape being shot in the head.
The ringing in his ears throbbed through his skull.
Through it, he could faintly hear Scott curse.
He waited. And without warning, an abrupt slam tore through the halls and reverberated in Chris’ head like a sinner’s cry for sanctuary. An intoxicating surge of mortality skidded through his veins and dragged his heart into the pit of his stomach, slicing it apart with the same sickening twist as a traitor’s grin.
Unspeakable fears swarmed like flies around the decaying carcass of his valour.
With a burning tenacity for answers, Chris’ eyes bravely stretched over the cart and into the abyss of the unknown. The door had been forced open. Scott stalked out of the room like a predator searching for the prey whose blood was on his tongue, and turned his head in Chris’ direction.
Chris shot to the floor.
Nothing.
Then, he began to hear the soles of Scott’s shoes click towards him - very slowly, yet very assuredly.
Chris held his breath, knowing there was no possible way he would be able to escape again. He realised that now a bullet had fired, Scott had nothing left to lose, and as a result, the firstlings of his heart would be the firstlings of his hand.
The footsteps edged closer and closer.
Think, Chris, think! What would Ethan do?
He could try running, but that would give Scott easy access to him; the only way to run was through a long, straight hallway. He’d be dead in seconds. Ethan wouldn’t be that stupid.
The footsteps clicked closer.
He could fight? There were tools in the cart - surely one of them would be sharp enough to wound him. Would Ethan do that? …No, he wouldn’t. He would know that there wasn’t enough time to find a tool, and it would only confirm his location. Fuck.
The throbbing burnt through his head.
Ethan would be smart. Ethan would use what he has…use what he has…
The cart. He would wait until Scott was close enough, and then shove the cart into him.
The thought broke through the surface of the turbulent ringing, like a drowning man who has finally resurfaced after almost giving up on all hope. Push the cart and run.
The footsteps drew closer, slower.
Chris’ heart thumped through his body as if it was punching through his ribs to escape.
Death sunk to the floor, preparing its body to attack.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Nothing.
A deafening silence pervaded the tension.
The soundless void was broken by sporadic patters resembling droplets firing on car windows-
Rose.
She was running down the stairs. She was leading Scott away.
And it worked.
The click of his obtrusive heels reversed and grew distant; the ticking of the clock moved backwards.
Chris waited until silence enveloped him in its fleecy security, and the threat of inevitable mortality faded away in the ashes of its formidable threat.
With the circumspection of a surgeon, Chris peered over the metal barricade against which his body was pressed, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips when greeted by the impassivity of emptiness.
His bloodshot eyes snapped behind him; yes, he was alone.
Death snarled with delirious contempt: if nobody was going to die soon, then it would take matters into its own hands.
- - - — — — - - -
The skeleton of the hospital stretched out before Ethan like an endless abyss, punctuated by the ghost of its usual atmosphere imbuing the halls.
The lights had flickered off. The blinds in each patient room had shut. Nurse carts, scrub bins and patient gurneys lay scattered in the ribs surrounding the atrium, left to decay in their own hopeless and desolate existence. The air clung like mucus to the walls, the floors, and the two people striding through the carcass, stagnating the sticky palpability in the back of their dry throats.
The echo of their footsteps sliced the haunting silence.
The ribcage expanded with every corridor they turned, and deflated with every stride they took towards its end. Breath began at the end of one hallway and at the beginning of another, then died with each push through the contracting vessel. But every corridor marked a new struggle for its lungs, which fought against lifelessness in order to expand once again. Time pushed against life.
Each room they passed housed terrified patients, innocent doctors and nurses, and families from unknown stories, all huddled under a gossamer veil of hope. A hospital was a place of safety and security - a location where doctors and nurses fought for the right to life, indulging in their own God-complex with every cheat of death, manipulating nature’s machinery to fit a powerful narrative of morality that defined every person here. A hospital was a church for the scientists, a God for the atheists, a prayer for the sinners. No matter who you were or where you came from, like the cry of glory from every church, a hospital takes you in and cares for you as its own. It sees a body, like a church sees a soul. While the biggest conflict between science and religion is the existence of God, in a symbolic twist of irony, they share the same skeleton of conviction - the same morals, principles, and values: life.
Ethan didn’t believe in God, but he believed in life. And with every room he passed, the dawning of a realisation brimmed the surface of his thoughts - a prayer that began to burn with raging intensity and consume his better judgement with inexorable determination: first, do no harm. The prayer undulated on lost lips and landed as ashes at his guilty feet.
First, do no harm.
It was an order. An instruction. A faceless God that bent every doctor to its will.
First, do no harm.
It was the needle in a compass. The green light at the end of the dock. The dagger pointing at the object of ambition.
First, do no harm.
It was a standard. A principle. A value.
First, do no harm.
It was the chant that haunted every decision he made.
First, do no harm.
It was a threat.
The ribcage stopped condensing. Ethan was static.
How could he have the audacity to call himself a doctor when he couldn’t even follow the one condition in the imminent face of death? Could he ever look a patient in the eye and know he left thousands of them to rot in Scott’s corruption alone? To know that he broke the most important condition of becoming a doctor when he was thrust into the unknown?
Ethan dealt with unknown diseases everyday. His career was centred around investing the unknown, treading into crumbling lands without fear or objection. Why was this situation any different?
But to reject Naveen’s explicit authority would cut deeply into the wound of scarring history; they were a team, after all, and to not see this through with him would throw their relationship into a turbulent wave of disparity. Naveen was his compass, and to desert him now would be the most unforgivable act.
Then there was Chris. He had abandoned Chris once before, leaving him to force through the challenges of life and medicine all on his own, and thus, one selfish action replaced the other. The memory of Chris’ face when he returned New Year’s Eve burned in his memory: pain, guilt, anger, happiness, love, and he swore to himself he would never leave Chris again. And yet, here he was, leaving Chris alone with a gunman. If Chris were to die from Ethan’s own act of impassivity, the blood on his hands would incarnadine the multitudinous seas, making the green one red.
“No.”
The sporadic conviction slammed Naveen to a halt. He was paces in front of Ethan, not having realised Ethan’s delay, and stared back at him with petrified eyes.
“Ethan?”
Pools of guilt bubbled to Ethan’s crystallised hues. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe the words that were about to crumble out from his lips.
“I can’t leave Chris behind.”
Incredulity burned from Naveen’s body. “Ethan, this is not the time to play with morality. We have to leave now.”
Ethan shook his head, his eyes pinned to the floor. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to stay. “I can’t, Naveen.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, then dragged his eyes to meet Naveen. “I can’t leave all of these patients here alone. I can’t leave my interns, my colleagues, my friends here, alone. And I can’t leave Chris again. I can’t let him do this alone. You know it.”
Naveen was silent as he took this in. Then, very steadily, he walked back towards Ethan.
Ethan prepared himself for one of Naveen’s famously cold lectures that he had experienced so many times during his residency - the ones that cut at his core by questioning his standards, his morals, and most importantly, his principles. While Naveen was like a walking teddy bear, he was a ruthless teacher as well.
But Naveen simply placed his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.
“I know.” Naveen’s eyes crumbled. “You do what you have to do, my friend.”
The pools of guilt expelled themselves from Ethan in undulant waves down his cheeks. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Naveen’s unequivocal acceptance gripped his fragmenting principles together.
“Just remember,” Naveen lifted his arm and drew his thumb over Ethan’s damp cheek, cupping his face tenderly in his warm hand, “I need you alive.” Ethan nodded solemnly, allowing himself the luxury of accepting affection and validation from-
BANG.
Everything stopped.
Ethan and Naveen froze, their eyes sealed to each other in alarm. Naveen’s hand turned to ice.
That was a gunshot.
The stakes had been raised. All the heat disintegrated from the air, sending an electrifying shiver through Ethan’s veins.
The image of Chris with a bullet in his head burned in his eyes.
His body was paralysed with fear.
A question silently permeated from Naveen’s eyes to Ethan’s. Ethan nodded, his features hardening with determination. The ice around his body fell to pieces.
Naveen’s face crumpled. He placed his other hand on the side of Ethan’s face and kissed his forehead tenderly, allowing his gesture to speak the volumes words never can; then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
So I have a confession and this makes me a fake open heart fan but I haven’t read since like book 2 when we first met esmes patient....I literally suck. And I’m changing my faceclaim hopefully if I can find more photos and gifs of the person I want.
Gonna take a bit of break for a bit I have a presentation for bio-x worth a large portion of my grade and a English essay to finish. I’m going to still be writing when I can but I won’t be posting for a couple of weeks.
Just wanted to let you all know. ❤️
I’ll be accepting head canon request, so send them in my ask!
Soooooo.....I decided to finally do it @romewritingshop and I’m writings the Ethan x MC x Tobias fic and so far so good! I have about 2k words now and even though in canon this wouldn’t ever happen because Ethan is Ethan and char is devoted to hell with him. But! I’m a hoe for Ethan and Tobias so here we are.
Summary: When a lonely soul decides to spend her morning on a beach she is unpleasantly surprised to find that she isn’t alone and a lot has changed except her feelings.
A dreamy sea has a rhythmic pulse to it unmatched by any other part of nature. It forges its own sounds and kindles its own symphony as the waves crawl gently to the shore. Maybe that’s why she admired the Aruban beach so much or maybe it was the isolation of it all. Something she’d come to be so accustomed to. Her loneliness is like standing in the middle of a bustling city, watching people rush by without feeling like you're even remotely connected to them.
No, it's not the same as being alone; being alone is more a state of physical being than it is a state of soul and emotion. You're surrounded by all these people who never seem to truly understand you and who seem like they will never understand the fears and deepest thoughts that tug at your heart. It's not that they don't care about you or truly try to help you -- it's simply that feeling that they will never understand you, no matter how much you explain. It's that craving for love and connection beyond the surface level. Loneliness leads you to feel like you're literally watching the world go by, not part of anything in particular.
Being physically alone though on the beach was nothing new she had to say, but much to her displeasure she wasn’t alone. She spotted a figure in the distance much closer to the shore bare feet in the sand because washed by the gentle waters inching closer. The figure was tall and held a domineering stance and rigid posture she couldn’t shake.
He stood with his face up toward the sun as if taking in the rays of shine and simply basking in its warmth like a bath. He donned white shorts and a plain light blue short sleeved shirt just regular beach attire she shrugged off. He ran his hand through his tussle of chocolate brown curls and visibly breathed deeply taking in the silence quiet and free from disturbance but loud enough to be calming all the same.
It wasn’t until he turned around and they locked eyes from her sitting position did her grow wide and her posture go rigid did she realize this was no mere man or stranger on the beach at all. It was him. Her one that got away. The man that used to make her heart skip a beat with just a simple touch or look, the love of her life. The one that got away. After all this time he was still a part of her. She could still feel the way she beats nearly out of her chest at his mere presence and there’s a certain ache that still makes her feel like she is still in love with him.
For years he’d been the last thing on her mind before she went to sleep the reason for the teardrops on her pillow. Why even after all this time she hadn’t been able to get over him even after deciding to let him go which was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. She tried to get rid of them, the memories, yet she still cannot, because those memories are so ebullient and hard to forget. They're still in her heart's chamber.
She wanted him to know so much, that she loved him. Still she did, her feelings were never a joke and that everytime she told him “I love you” way back when it came from the bottom of her heart. The moment she told him that his embrace made her feel so much comfortable and forget all her problems in life, yes she was honest with that. She was so honest for all the feelings she harbored deep inside. She cherished the moments shared and wouldn’t ever forget how she felt every time she was with him and all she’d put them through.
She wanted to go to him. Her heart told her to run into his arms and rekindle what they had once had but body stayed situated and stuck in place as she continued to stare at the once love of her life and the man she couldn’t ever seem to get over. That she still held a flame larger than life for. He sent a gentle smile but his eyes told a different story of love, so much love. But her happiness died disgustingly hard when realized he hadn’t seen her at all. Instead his attention had been directed behind her where his eyes alighted unfathomably bright at the sight of a woman and a small girl with a little brown dog.
The woman was absolutely stunning. She truly was what women paid to look like, if perfection didn’t exist she was an exception truthfully. Her tanned brown skin could’ve been glowing in the bright sun and beautiful features were highlighted stunningly by the carefree smile alighted on her face. As she held the smallest girl who took after her seeming to be mother exponentially. The girl held their mother’s golden brown complexion and dark curly hair but those eyes; they were unmistakably blue. A bright blue that resembled those indigo blues she knew all too well.
They were Ethan’s and the woman’s children. Her thoughts were only confirmed when the little girl wrestled her way out of her mother’s arms, raising a laugh from the woman as she ran into her fathers arms with the puppy trailing behind her. She hadn’t ever seen him look so happy and at peace. But when the woman made her way to him and hugged him from behind the way his face lit up was foreign to him; even in their time together she’d never made him look like that with just a simple hug.
He wasted no time in bringing her into his embrace and kissing her deeply, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and being borderline affectionate. There was no doubt in her mind that Ethan Ramsey, a man who had no time for marriage or family loved the woman that donned a heavy diamond ring on her finger as he held it up and kissed each knuckle tenderly earning a moan of discontent from the little girls. It was adorable really they looked like a picture perfect family. What you’d see in movies really. Hell they even had a small dog with them that she hadn’t noticed till now.
It had finally hit her, she had to move on. She needed to let go of all that held her back: her love for a man who’d absolutely moved on, after all he was her first love. The very first love that she had experienced in her whole life. It felt melancholic for she had lost him. Maybe they were meant to spend the good times together, it’s just fate took its turn, she was able to hurt him and he did too and well she guessed that was inevitable. Then they parted ways and new beginnings came their way, you chose her over what a naive girl thought was forever kind of love. But it’s okay because she’ll get used to it. She promised herself and hopefully soon it’ll be without bitterness or anger.
Her therapist had told her some time ago before she left for the medical conference in Aruba that when she needed to get something out and she wasn’t available to try and write it out, in a letter of sorts. So she did just that and she wrote a goodbye later her lost love would never receive and not for him but for her. So she swiftly left the beach as undetected as when she arrived and made her way back inside the resort and found a pen and paper in her hotel room and got to writing. She wrote till her hand cramped and her tears stained the paper.
Dearest Ethan,
I wish you happiness love, even if that happiness doesn't include me anymore. It's just that I have to accept the fact that I was no longer a part of you and you of me. Thank you for everything. If I would be given a chance to get back from where we started I will still have that small talk with you in the hallway about her physics class we had together. I will still choose to fall in love with you because you're the best thing ever happened to me, maybe our bittersweet love story has ended after I’d hurt you the way I did. I thought the grass was greener on the other side and I was wrong but I found out all too late. But the last thing that I want to say is in another life I would be your girl so I don't have to say you were the one that got away. And I’m sorry not only to you but to myself...and Tobias.
Love,
Someone you used to know
As she sealed the letter she closed a chapter to her life that wouldn’t ever be opened again. And somehow she moved on. Ethan belonged to the beautiful with the brown skin and curly hair and somehow someway Suparna had to be okay with that. She wasn’t thinking when she sent the letter via bell boy to his room she only asked that it be deliverers to Dr. Ethan Ramsey and lied saying it regarded information about the medical conference he’d been invited to. And with that she went to her bed and fell into a restful sleep dreaming of what could’ve been.
————————————————————————————————
After an eventful day at the beach which was great until Charisma decided to put sand in Jenner’s fur. The act prompted the family to make their way back to the suite and give the girl and the pup a good bath before dinner which was much harder than it looked. Jenner was absolutely refusing and kept shaking his wet little sandy body as often as he could making the largest mess he possibly could. He had given up on chasing the three year old who’d decided that baths weren’t her thing and decided she’d rather run naked throughout the hotel room. Finally he’d washed and dried Jenner and put him in the dog bed with some toys to keep him busy. His love thankfully relieved him of his daddy duties and got Charisma ready for bed. A knock on the door interrupted his short reprieve that involved what he needed most at the moment a glass of scotch.
He answered the door and was met with a bellhop delivering him a letter that he took suspiciously wishing the boy a good night. He wasted no time in opening the letter and reading its contents that quite confused him. His thought process was soon interrupted by a warm hug from the love of his life as she placed her chin on his chest.
“Who’s it from?” She gently inquired. He only shook his head and shrugged in response. “No one important.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah I’m alright.” And with that he took his wife’s hand and couldn’t help but to admire the diamond ring that was just made for her and kissed her ring finger tenderly as he and Charlotte made their way to their daughters room to read her at least three stories before she finally turned in only to have her come in their bed later. But they wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because writers will stop fucking writing if you don’t.
It is extremely sad to hear one of your friends consider the possibility of deleting all their fics and WIPS - something they spend hours on for free - because of a lack of feedback. I have entertained that thought too, many times. Writing is exhausting, time consuming, and sometimes frankly depressing and discouraging. As a reader, you can make a difference. This is not just about a writer leaving a fandom, because that happens all the time - it’s about a writer leaving a fandom and taking all they’ve offered to it with them because they feel worthless. Which is just revolting.
Fic writers lose sleep and gain anxiety over the work they decide to share with the world. If you don’t show a writer your appreciation, you will get nothing in return. Nothing.
If you tell someone you like their work, you get everything. More stories to read when it’s a Friday night and you’re exhausted as hell, more fluff to comfort yourself with when you’re feeling cold, more fucked up stories when you feel in the mood for them, more smut when you need to relax. I don’t know, man. It’s just so fucking precious and rich and important, all these people who decide to take you places because it makes them happy to, but if you don’t say a word of thanks, their carefully crafted world crumbles and turns to dust. It’s as simple as that.
Comments make a writer write more. And not only for your entertainement, because it was never about that - not at the beginning - but for themselves. Knowing people appreciate the work they do helps us gain confidence, and confidence makes people. I never considered writing as a possible career option, but now, I have plans to develop a story that’s been blooming inside my head properly on paper and put it out there, in the real world, to see if it worth it. I believe in it. I believe in the stories I tell, I believe in my writing, and it is only because of the positive feedback I have received for the past year.
This rant is a jumbled mess, because I am pissed off as hell. This shouldn’t happen. Commenting on fics should be a given. Just comment on fics, acknowledge the writer’s work and you. Will. Get. Everything. You. Ever. Wanted. Do nothing and you will get nothing, and then you will wonder why this or that fic hasn’t updated in months.
Guess what - it’s because I have better things to do with my time than spend hours working on a fic for people who don’t care. I am done.
I’ve never resonated with something so heavily. It doesn’t even have to be a compliment it can be negative or positive feedback just as long as you react and make me feel like I’m not talking to myself or that you appreciate it.
Charlotte in more ways than one changed Ethan Ramsey for the better. The man grew to accept love and be comfortable giving it. He finally around her felt worthy of being loved; he wasn’t scared she would just up and leave because she needed him just as much as he longed for her embrace every second of the day.
Ethan always became better at expressing himself he didn’t feel the need to bottle everything up anymore just waiting to explode violently when he had a understanding partner who was always there. No matter what he needed she was there; if needed to just vent and yell she was there to sit and listen. Not tell him what he should do or try to calm him down but to just listen to everything he had to say then just hug him. He loved her warm embraces where she’d just cradle his head as if he were a child it made him feel so at home and safe.
Charlotte also made him smile more, she had a way of making him happy that the lines etched into his skin were no longer the source of frowns or scowls but from bright smiles and contagious laughter. She changed him for the better and for that he couldn’t be more thankful.
Both Charlotte and Ethan haven’t always been the best communicators but they’re trying and they’re trying to learn more about the others past. It was hard but Ethan came to tell her more about his abandonment issues and his emotionally detached personality that stemmed from the pain his mother caused. Charlotte felt their bond strong enough to share parts of her past with him; she was married before Ethan and that he meant a lot to her and he passed (writing a fic on this soon). They’re sharing more and more with each passing day.
They don’t like to have secrets and do their best to avoid it at all cost, but it wasn’t foreign to them to think keeping a tiny white lie from the other was for their own good. Which more often than not never ended well. Since they started dating though their communication skills have greatly improved and they’re more willing to talk about their issues than to just sweep them under the rug which in their eyes is spectacular progress.
They don’t share everything because sometimes they don’t need as long as it isn’t impacting their partner negatively or at all. They know their entitled to their own privacy in the relationship. But they prefer to be each other’s confidants and share most important things with each other.
Hey loves! Just had to put something out there my MC’s faceclaim has been Cindy Kimberly I just found that my MC contrary to the incorrect information on some websites when I was searching for her identity told me Cindy was black. And I just want to sincerely apologize I really should have been more diligent. But she is also of Indonesian and Spanish origin and still a POC which is overall what I wanted if I couldn’t have a black woman as my MC like myself. But I will hope to create an OC as well that is black so all my darkskin women like myself feel represented in the fandom. Cindy will continue to my MC’s faceclaim though as there are far more gifs and pictures of her than who I originally wanted to play her which would’ve been Aissata Diallo.
Mornings at the Ramsey’s during off days were quite unpredictable contrary to Ethan's preference for routine which heavily contrasted with his lovers stark spontaneity. She’d either sleep well into the afternoon or she’d be awake at 7 a.m. following some cooking tutorial or almost always smothering Jenner with kisses and cuddles to which he loved more than anything, or with endless treats to his little hearts content much to Ethan’s dismay. ‘He spoiled enough already’ he more than often argues. Almost always her attempts at making breakfast fail miserably. She somehow was only bad at breakfast. She isn’t the chef in the household and rather enjoys her permanent position as expert taste tester. So he’ll dutifully take over and cook some elaborate feast that will unfortunately never include pancakes but thankfully as well because as good as the fluffy clouds of deliciousness are Ethan’s suck. And they’ll never get better no matter how easy the task is. After ruining the pancakes his rookie wasted no time in reaming him to her best.
“Alright rookie we’re having...anything other than pancakes.”
“It’s literally just powder and water, how on earth can you screw that up?” She teases with a knowing smile while trying to poke his sides and slowly coaxing that beautiful laugh of his out.
“I went to med school and not a culinary institute rookie.” He sighs while trying unsuccessfully to hide his grin as he basked in the sweet harmony that was her carefree melodious laughter.
“Yeah, judging by the charcoal taste, I can certainly tell.”
“Alright that’s it.” She takes off as he embarks on chasing her throughout their shared apartment and he has her when he grabs onto his white t-shirt donning her glorious figure; although she’s insisted and he’s accepted that his clothes are their clothes.
“Say your sorry.” He demands holding her arms above her head while attacking the sensitive and feminine column of her slender neck with his teeth and tongue.
“Okay!” She relented letting out a sound between a moan and a giggle.
“I’m sorry your pancakes are so damn soggy.” She managed to rasp out before he began to tickle her silly.
Tangling his large veiny hands into her mane of curls he ravishes her full pink lips that he’s found the utmost comfort in. Tongue sweeping past her pouty bottom lip he invites himself in the warm and welcoming home of her mouth. Biting down on her bottom lip coaxes a long and sensual moan from her and a groan as he hikes her leg up his waist and places her against one of their floor to ceiling windows.
“Charlotte Naelie Ramsey, you have no idea how much I adore you.” And she truly didn’t. She could never truly grasp the depth of his affections for her, the way all his happiness resided in her beautiful smiles or her angelic laughter. His entire world was placed right in front of him, it was all her. In the way she did simple things like mindlessly rubbing her manicured nails through his soft dark brown locs or the little pecks she always gave him passing. Or how she always made sure he ate throughout their long work days or her simply plopping herself in his lap at any given time and feeding him the newest goodie sienna baked. He simply loved her presence and the safe haven that was the love of his life. He had it bad, as Bryce might say but damn he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t love it.
But where he loved her she loved him more. She loved his protective nature and his genuineness, and how no matter what he was always was thinking of her in everything he did. Like when he passed a flower shop on his way home from Providence after visiting his dad and made sure to grab her some tulips and tiger lilies and her favorite chocolate turtles just to see the way her lustrous honey brown eyes lit up at the small mindless gesture that just seemed like second nature to him. And she loved the way she always felt appreciated by him even if it was something as simple as organizing his desk for him making it much easier to navigate her burdening workload or her leaving adorable flirty pick up lines in his lunch she always packed for him. Last week's one said,
“Are you a magician? Because when I look at you, everyone else seems to disappear.” Cheesy but always seemed to put a smile on his face that anyone could see came from the woman who was on his mind all day and every night. What seemed impossible but only made him miss her more.
Returning to the present moment with his rookie and coming back from his reminiscing he was only stirred back to life with her sweet words.
“Couldn’t ever be more than I love you.” She placed sweet kisses all over his face. From his chin to the outer corners of his eyes struck with lines from his constant smiling due to the ever present ray of sunshine in his life, down to his nose and over his cheeks and finally stopping at his chin which raised high into a grin from the affection he could never get enough of.
“Impossible.” He countered rubbing his rough calloused hands up and down her smooth thighs and then to the wide curvature of her glorious hips.
“Oh really, wanna convince me of that?” She targeted back with a salacious grin peeking out through her mock tough exterior.
“Gladly Mrs. Ramsey.” And with that he whisked her to their bedroom and wasted no time in shutting the door throwing her to the bed in a mess of rushed laughter and lust. A morning with the Ramsey’s not predictable but most certainly enjoyable. With the soothing smell of lemon citrus candles and bacon wafting in the air of the home and the comforting warmth coming from the vent coupled with the sensual giggles and pleasurable sounds coming from the husband and wife everything just felt right.
