#I want them strung up in the middle of the city | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellieswrldd · 2 months

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whiskey neat

pairing: cowgirl!ellie williams x f!reader

summary: ellie's a gunslinging outlaw who seems to have taken a liking to you, the pretty saloon girl.

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, thigh riding, train robbery, set during the 1800s, slightly awkward ellie, reader's 1st time with a woman

a/n: this is my thank u for 800 followers!! pic creds to riverexwren on pinterest 💗

“The necklace, hand it over,”

Your hands trembled with fear as you touched the locket strung around your neck. A shiny revolver was pointed at your nose and left you speechless.

Train robberies weren’t as common as they used to be, the law had grown stronger and outlaws were quickly becoming something of the past. At least that’s what the newspapers said.

Either the papers were wrong or you were just plain unlucky as you sat in the middle of a train robbery.

“I said hand it over,” The man holding the gun demanded, his eyes squinting as he inched the gun closer.

“Leave it, man, head to the front and help break those safes open, we don’t have time for your shit.” Your eyes darted past the barrel of the gun and landed on another masked assailant.

Auburn hair was tucked under a black cowboy hat, a scar running through one of her brows, striking green eyes, and a black bandana that covered the rest of her face. The man rolled his eyes and pushed past the woman, allowing you to find your breath. The woman’s eyes seemed to linger on your face before her brows furrowed and she looked back at the other passengers.

“Everybody stay seated, we’re just gonna take what we need and then we’ll be on our way, got it?” She stated loudly. Her hand rested comfortably on the handle of her gun as she spoke.

The following hour passed in a blur, you sat nervously in your seat as the woman kept watch. After a while, a few men returned and gave the woman a nod, bags of money in their hands.

“We’ve got the stuff, let’s get the hell outta here,” the man from earlier said. The woman looked back at him and nodded. She glanced back in your direction once more before leaving the train with her gang.

Just as soon as they had ridden off, the lawmen arrived. The train was up and running again and the officers went around interviewing the passengers as the train started toward the city. Everyone was rather shaken up but it seemed like there were few casualties, the only deaths being that of a few guards.

The rest of the day you were stuck in a haze, shaken by the robbery. People asked about the details but you simply shook your head and waved them away, it was clear you wanted to forget the whole ordeal.

Weeks passed slowly, spring turned into summer, and you eventually moved on from the train incident. Nothing ever came of it, the assailants were never identified and nobody was able to offer up any useful intel about the robbery so you simply continued on with your life.

You worked as a saloon girl at the local bar which wasn’t the best gig, but it certainly paid well. The busy atmosphere kept you entertained during the night and you were typically free during the days.

Dressed in a vibrant blue gown you sauntered around the bar, refilling drinks and sweet-talking some of the men, nothing you weren’t used to. As you made your rounds, you caught sight of someone who piqued your interest. She sat by herself at a small round table near the corner of the room.

Other than the saloon gals, women didn’t frequent the joint often so you always felt curious when you spotted a female patron. Something about this lady in particular seemed familiar despite the fact you couldn’t recall ever meeting someone like her. With that short, reddish hair she’d be hard to miss for certain, so why was she so familiar?

“You look like you could use a refill,” You smiled at her as you approached, a hand on your hip. She looked up at you and pulled her cigarette from her lips. After exhaling the smoke away from you, the girl sat up a little straighter and shrugged.

“Guess I could, or maybe I could just use some company.” Her voice was a bit raspy but it sounded like sweet honey to your ears. She passed you her empty glass and took another drag from her cigarette. “Whiskey, neat,”

You giggled and took the glass. You stepped away to refill the glass before returning to her table. She cracked a charming smile and nodded toward the seat beside her as she took the glass from your hands.

“Why have I never met you before? Passing through town?” You asked as you slid into the chair next to her. The girl tapped her fingers on her glass cup.

“Something like that. I’m not from ‘round here.” She took a drag from her cigarette and made sure to blow the smoke away from your direction.

“You seem awfully familiar, are you sure we’ve never crossed paths?”

“I doubt it,” She paused for a moment before speaking again. “I think I’d remember a pretty face like yours,”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and you smiled. “Flattery won’t get you free drinks, miss…?” You trailed off, waiting for her to finish your sentence.

“Williams, but you can call me Ellie.”

The conversation between you two flowed easily, even with Ellie’s flirtatious banter. As it neared midnight you noticed the people begin to return home, of course, a few drunkards still milling about inside.

“I better go,” You said quietly, glancing at the door. Ellie bit her cheek and nodded. She threw back the remaining alcohol she had in her cup and stood up.

“Let me walk you home, it’s not safe for a pretty lady to walk home alone.” You laughed and rolled your eyes when you saw her outstretched hand.

“I assure you I am no lady,” You took her hand and stood up. Ellie chuckled and shook her head.

“Lead the way,”

You didn’t live too far from the saloon and for once you wished the walk was longer. Maybe it was stupid of you to get involved with someone who clearly didn’t plan on sticking around for long, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

“I like that necklace of yours, it’s real nice,” Ellie commented, her eyes gazing at the locket, then falling a bit lower to the low cut of your bodice.

Politely, you thanked her and continued speaking, but something inside of you was stuck on her comment.

It was then that you finally realized exactly who she was and why you remembered her. The intriguing gunslinger who couldn’t keep her eyes off you while her partners robbed a train was the very same woman walking you home.

As you stopped in front of your door, you turned to Ellie.

“Ellie, I need to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me.”

The other girl looked confused but nodded.

“It was you on that train, wasn’t it?”

She stared at you silently for a second, her mouth slightly agape, it was as if she was trying to think of the right response.

“Be honest with me please,” You sighed. “I know we just met, but I like you and I like your company, and I want to know who I’m talkin’ to. I’m surely not pure, I’ve done bad things too, I swear I would never tell—” You rambled on before Ellie interrupted you.

“Yes, that was me.” Her voice was a raspy mumble, and her eyes were focused on her dusty boots.

“Okay,” The words escaped you as a whisper and suddenly you realized how nervous you felt. The nerves could be partially attributed to the fact you had confirmed your suspicions, but you knew they were because of something more.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, I hope you know that—”

“Do you want to come inside?”

Ellie bit her lip and nodded, a small smile forming on her face. She followed you inside while she tried her best to conceal the stupid smile that was pulling at her cheeks. You watched as she slipped her heavy jacket off and hung it on the coat hanger, and you inhaled when you saw the shine of her revolver tucked into her pants.

“You’re lookin’ at my gun,” She stated and followed your gaze. “I can put it away or something if it scares you,”

You simply shook your head and ran your hands down the front of your skirt. “I’m not scared,”

“Okay then,”

The tension between the two of you seemed to fill the entire room and you couldn’t seem to look Ellie in the eyes.

“Maybe I ought to go,” Ellie murmured. It was evident that neither of you wanted that, the way she was inching closer to you certainly confirmed that.

“Maybe you ought to stay,” You looked up and finally made eye contact with her. “You make me so…” You trailed off quietly as you looked down at her lips and registered how close she was.

“So what?” Her hand reached out and gently brushed against your wrist.

“…Nervous,” You breathed. It seemed like your lips were only mere inches apart.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

Ellie ran her fingers up your bare arm slowly before gently cupping your cheek.

“Don’t toy with me,” You mutter and Ellie laughed softly. She pulled you in and kissed you softly, her lips molding against yours.

The kiss was everything you needed. It was passionate and messy and perfect. You had never done anything like this with another woman before and it scared you, but Ellie’s lips moved so sweetly that it made you forget all of your worries.

It wasn’t long until the kiss turned from sweet to fiery with Ellie’s tongue sliding against your own and her hands traveling down your back. A soft moan escaped your lips when Ellie squeezed your hips gently.

“God, you’re so— you make me—” Ellie breathed heavily and buried her face in your exposed neck, her lips moving hungrily against your skin. Your hands traveled to her hair as she sucked and nipped at your neck.

“Ellie,” You panted her name and tugged her hair gently until she pulled away.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” She muttered, brows furrowed.

“No! No, I loved that, I just— I’ve never done this before, not with a woman I mean,” Her hands remained on your hips as you spoke.

“I-I’ll help you, I don’t mind,” Ellie’s cheeks turned pink and she pulled you close again. “Should we go to your bedroom..?” She asked.

You nodded and intertwined your fingers with hers before leading her to your room. It wasn’t much but it was homey, charming even.

Ellie wasted no time to kiss you again, this time her hands moved presumptuously across your body. From sliding across your torso and chest to squeezing your ass through the delicate fabrics of your dress, Ellie’s movements only grew bolder with your responses.

Slowly, Ellie tugged the skirt of your dress up, revealing your skin inch by inch.

“Take it off me,” You whispered. And so she did, untying your corset like her life depended on it and carefully lifting the dress above your head, so as not to stretch anything. Then, finally, you stood before her completely bare.

“You are so beautiful,” She said, her eyes glued to the curves and shape of your body. You reached out and unbuttoned her shirt slowly but surely. Ellie’s breathing seemed to deepen as you moved lower, the curves of her small breasts now visible as you undid the last few buttons. Then, you took her gun from her waistband and set it on your nightstand for safekeeping.

Your hands found their way to the button of her pants next, shakily undoing them as she watched you intently. She kicked her pants off along with her undergarments and was completely nude.

“Show me what to do,” You met her eyes and waited for her to guide you. Her hands found yours and grabbed your wrists, moving your hands to her breasts.

“Touch me here,” She instructed. Ellie took in a sharp breath when you rolled her nipples between your fingers, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Th-that's good, yeah,”

“What else?”

She bit her lip and took one of your hands, moving it to cup her cunt.

“You feel that? How wet I am?” You nodded quickly. “It’s because of you, because of how bad I want you,”

“M-Me too,” You stammered, suddenly aware of the wet heat in between your legs.

“Lay down, I’ll take care of you,” Ellie smiled and stood over you as you lay on your bed. Crawling on top of you, Ellie kissed you sweetly a few times before she moved lower and latched her mouth onto your nipple. Her tongue swirled around your stiff nipples, drawing out needy whining from you.

Her fingers began to slowly rub your puffy clit in lazy circles while she kept your legs spread. She wanted nothing more than to fuck you in every way possible, rough and fast, but she knew you needed something slow right now, something caring and gentle to get you started.

Ellie kissed and licked and suckled across your tits, a trail of hickeys and saliva all over your chest.

“Ellie,” You whined and squirmed beneath her. She was moving so slowly and it was nice, but you were so needy and you couldn’t take the teasing.

“I know, just– hold on,” She pulled away and moved to sit against the headboard of the bed. “Come here,” Ellie reached her hand out to you. You sat up and crawled over to her, sitting in her lap as she pulled you on top of her.

Ellie spread her legs out and cleared her throat. “Sit on my thigh,” You followed her instruction and straddled her thigh, one of your thighs on each side. “Yeah, just like that,” In this position, you could feel the heat of her skin against your entire pussy.

“What do I do?” You murmur, glancing down and back up at her.

“Put your hands here,” She placed your hands on her shoulders. “And just rock back and forth, slowly,” She inhaled deeply as you did what she said and you started grinding yourself against her thigh. Ellie’s hands found their way to your thighs and she squeezed your soft skin.

Low moans and whimpers came from your wet lips while you rubbed yourself against her. As you moved back and forth, you had begun to push your knee against Ellie’s clit just enough for her to feel a delicious friction.

“N-Now you can speed up, you’re doing so well,” She panted and gazed at you with half-lidded eyes. Her hands slid up from your thighs to your hips where she helped roll your hips a bit faster and harder against her thigh. Ellie had also begun to grind her clit against your knee, moaning your name as she too chased the pleasure.

By now her thigh was covered in your juices, shining in the moonlight that poured through your windows. Ellie listened as your moans grew higher and louder, and took that as a sign that you were nearing your climax.

Everything was sloppy and messy, but it was the best feeling you’d ever experienced. Your two bodies moving together sensually, both of you craving and chasing orgasm, your skin on hers.

Soon enough, both you and Ellie were crying out and shaking while you were overcome with pleasure. You fell limp against her and her arms encircled you.

The room was silent with the only sounds being you and Ellie’s breathing.

“That was—” You sighed.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughed softly and rubbed your back. “You did good,”

“You think so?” You ran a finger along her collarbone.

“I know so,” She gave you a smile. “You ought to get some rest, it’s late,” Ellie kissed your cheek.

“Only if you promise not to run off?”

“Okay, I promise,” She whispered. You pulled the bedsheets over your bodies and settled down for the night.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed. You frowned and turned to the other side of the bed. Ellie stood by your window, a cigarette in hand as she blew the smoke through the opened window.

“Good morning,” She said when she turned her head to look at you.

As you looked at her your head raced with wild dreams and ideas, things you wish you could say and do, but you simply smiled at her and watched Ellie take another drag of her cigarette.

You would never be allowed to be with Ellie publicly, homosexuality was a sin in the eyes of society. Not to mention, Ellie Williams was an outlaw.

What you had done with her was wrong, so so wrong, and yet you couldn’t help but yearn for more.

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serpentandlily · 7 months

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Untouchable IV - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

a/n: ahhh guys I literally love all of you so much. Thanks for all the love and support on this story!! Hope you enjoy this one just as much!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part IV

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You stared at yourself in the mirror, quite happy with that way you looked. You were getting ready to make a trip to Hewn City with the rest of the Inner Circle, so you could be announced as their new Overseer. Already donning your mask, a mask you wore just as well as your brother could. You were, after all, raised by the same cruel, unflinching male. After your father died, Rhys had made sure to continue teaching you how to handle the unsavory parts of the Night Court as best he could.

So you had put on a dress that demanded attention. It was Night Court black, of course, with a halter top bodice that connected to a high neck collar. Starting from just below your breasts, the dress was cut into two panels to cover your front and back, laced together with a black ribbon on the sides. It clung to your curves and showed off more skin than you usually did.

The entire side of your legs, your hip bone and waist, all exposed and accentuated by the dress. Some kohl liner brought your star-flecked, violet eyes to life. Your hair was curled and spilled down your back freely. You felt beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. The Princess of Night.

You finished the look with the diadem your brother had given you. It was made of Illyrian metal with dark red jewels decorating the intricately twisted vines. It was perfect for the Court of Nightmares.

As you made your way down the stairs, you could already feel the disapproving stare of your brother. Only him and Cassian were waiting in the foyer. Cass was in his Illyrian leathers and your brother was wearing a finely tailored black coat and pants with his own crown on his head.

“Nice try, dove,” Rhys chided. “Go back upstairs and change into the dress I had Nuala lay out for you this morning.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No. I bought this one specifically for today and I’m going to wear it.”

“No, you’re not.” Cass snorted as Rhys tried to assert his dominance. “Go change. Now.”

“No. I’m wearing this. You can’t make me change my mind.”

“Oh, I can make you,” your brother sneered. He could, you supposed, use his High Lord voice to order you to change. And then you literally wouldn’t be able to refuse.

Before he could though, you shouted for his mate. “Feyre!”

Your High Lady and sister-in-law walked into the room with a baby Nyx on her hip. She was wearing a beautiful, glimmering black dress that fell in a deep v to her navel. Slits on both sides of the skirt exposing her legs and a twin crown to the one Rhys was wearing sat on her head. Nyx was also dressed in black with a tiny version of their crown on his own head. The sight of them both was too adorable.

“What’s going on out here?” Feyre asked, sliding up to Rhys’s side. He strung an arm around her, pulling her and his son close.

You gave your brother a cheeky grin. “Your mate wants me to go change because he’s a big, overprotective, insufferable bat.”

Your brother glared at you as Feyre smacked his arm. “Leave your sister alone, Rhys. She can wear whatever she wants.”

The two of you shared a smile as Rhys let out a sigh of annoyance. “You know, I thought having a mate meant always having someone on your side. I would’ve never brought you here if I knew you’d end up conspiring with my sister against me all the time.”

“You're lucky you ended up with such a smart, beautiful mate that can check you before you embarrass yourself, Rhysie,” you laughed as Feyre stuck her tongue out at him. Rhys scoffed at both of you as you giggled with each other at his reaction.

“What are you guys giggling about out here?” Mor and Nesta walked into the room, both dressed as finely as everyone else.

Feyre started to answer Mor but your attention drifted as Azriel appeared in the shadow of the hallway, striding towards the group. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers like Cass, all seven of his cobalt siphons on display. Azriel always looked intimidating, but even more so today as his leathers clung to his muscles and highlighted the lethality of his stone-cut face.

His eyes immediately locked onto yours and widened as he took you in. His gaze dipped down and roamed your entire body and when he looked back up, his eyes were filled with hunger and heat, before he blinked and his cold mask was back on. You gave him no reaction, merely glancing away from him as if his presence had no effect on you. But the butterflies in your stomach begged otherwise.

Elain came walking down the stairs at the same time, dressed in black yet way more modestly than the rest of you. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place she looked.

“You’re coming?” Nesta asked, peering at Elain in surprise. “I thought Hewn City was far too much for you delicate sensibilities.”

Mor snorted as Elain scowled at her sister. “I’m only coming to show my support for y/n.”

She smiled at you and you gave her a grateful nod. Even if you were jealous of her for winning over the shadowsinger, you’d never blame her for him being an asshole. You also didn’t want Azriel to know you were bothered about it. You might not be as prideful as your brother was, but you’d rather suffer in complete silence than let anyone think they’ve made you feel insecure. Perhaps it was a family trait.

“I’ve had your stuff, and Azriel’s, sent over to the Moonstone Palace already,” Rhys said as everyone congregated. “So you can spend the rest of the week getting situated with your new role as planned.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But I already asked Cass to be my escort and he agreed–”

“Cassian forgot he has other duties that I already assigned to him this week.”

Cassian gave you a sheepish look and you let out a huff. “What about Balthazar?”

Balthazar was the Illyrian warrior who had helped Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite. He now worked closely with training the Illyrian females and helping them merge with the Valkyries. He was a good male and an excellent warrior—but more importantly, he wasn’t Azriel.

You could feel Azriel’s stare as you kept your focus on your brother. He waved a dismissive hand. “Azriel’s already agreed and I’d rather him guard over my sister than some untested Illyrian.”

Your hands clenched, annoyed but you nodded, not wanting your brother to get suspicious. With that, your brother winnowed the group to the gates leading into the Court of Nightmares. You took your place behind Feyre and Rhysand and Azriel slid into the space next to you as your designated guard, apparently. You managed to keep your stare straight forward as you began to walk towards the throne room.

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows cascading around your ankles. “Do you hate my presence so much now that you’d rather some random brute take my place as your guardian?” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who told me to stay away from you. I’m only doing as you asked. And Balthazar is not some random brute. He is a friend.”

“Since when?” he hissed.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I had been helping with the training of the Illyrian females before I left for the continent. Balthazar is another one of the trainers.”

Azriel said nothing else as your group finally entered the throne room. You could feel the stares of all the fae in the room, likely wondering why the High Lord had called for a party. You followed Rhys and Feyre to the dais, where Azriel held out a gloved hand to help you up the steps. You grabbed it, not wanting to embarrass him in front of a bunch of vultures who already thought of him as less than, and took your place behind Rhys’s throne.

You and Feyre were the two people in your brother’s life that he had vowed would never have to bow to anyone. And he took that quite seriously. So while everyone else was forced to lower themselves to the ground, you stood at his side.

You glanced at the crowd of people in the throne room. Your eyes widened as you noticed Eris next to Keir. You hadn’t been expecting him.

“You can rise now,” Feyre said after leaving them on the floor for a few moments.

And then it was time for the big announcement.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The party was in full swing, music playing, faeries dancing. Despite their despise for their High Lord, the fae down here took any excuse to get up to some debauchery. You still remained at the dais next to your brother, Azriel now a step behind you, like the guardian he was supposed to be.

Cassian stood on the other side of the dais by Feyre with Nesta, both ready to protect her and baby Nyx should they have to. Mor had claimed a table where she and Elain now sat, the latter looking uncomfortable as she peered around at the party taking place.

Keir stood before Rhys and Feyre, a forced look of respect on his face. It seemed to almost pain him and you had to hide your grin.

“My Lord, if I may ask, why have you decided to pass along the role of Overseer to someone as young and unpracticed as your sister?” Keir asked, his voice full of condescension. “And to do so without any input from me. It seems like an insult to us in this court—to not have one of our own be a representation for Hewn City.”

“I think you forget yourself, Keir,” Rhys sneered. “Me and your High Lady make every decision for this court and we certainly don’t require your input nor your opinions. You will show my sister respect. She is more than capable of what her title requires of her.”

“Can you blame me, my Lord, for having my doubts? Your sister has never dealt with court politics. It might be naive to place her in such a position.”

You took a step forward, standing tall as you looked down at your uncle. “You seem to forget, uncle, that I was the one who ran the Night Court during my brother’s absence for fifty years. You also seem to forget that your daughter’s mercy is the only reason you are still standing here today. Watch your mouth or perhaps you will find that I do not share the same leniency towards you as she does.”

Keir’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, but he did the smart thing by keeping his mouth shut. Though his eyes flickered towards the shadowsinger over your shoulder and a bit of fear flashed through him. Luckily, he didn’t hold your attention for long as a redhead suddenly appeared in front of you, at the bottom of the platform’s steps.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Eris purred, holding out his hand to you. His eyes roamed down the length of your body before they met yours. Your brother’s hands tightened on his throne’s arm rests but one look from Feyre kept his mouth shut.

You placed your hand in his, blushing slightly as he leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Would you allow me the honor of being your first dance tonight, Princess?”

Azriel growled in warning from behind you but you ignored him, instead looking towards your brother. He gave you a slight dip of the head as permission to leave your post, so you let Eris help you down the steps.

Eris escorted you to the dance floor just as a new song began. You let Eris begin to lead you through the dance, one hand in his and the other one on his shoulder, as his free arm looped around your waist.

“It is a surprise to see Rhysand finally letting his coveted little bird out of her cage,” Eris whispered into your ear as he twirled you around the dance floor, a devilish smirk on his face.

“He can be persuaded,” you whispered back with a feline smile of your own.

“Does that have anything to do with a shadowsinger who looks like he wants to kill me more than usual?”

As he spun you around, you couldn’t help but glance at Azriel. He had moved from his post closer to the dance floor, to keep you and Eris in his line of sight.

His eyes were narrowed, his shadows spiraling around him like snakes ready to strike, as he watched you dance with Eris. You wanted to roll your eyes at his behavior. He didn’t get to be a complete asshole to you and then act all protective.

“It has nothing to do with the shadowsinger,” you answered, gasping as Eris yanked you closer just in time to get out of the way of another couple drunkenly dancing. “It was all my negotiating that got me my new title. So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now?”

“It seems so, my Lady,” Eris crooned.

His amber eyes flashed to something over your shoulder and based on the smirk that spread on his face, that something was probably a certain shadowsinger. He met your gaze again, mischief sparkling on his face.

“In fact, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with Mor in private, but I guess now that would be you, wouldn't it?”

You nodded, peering around and noting Rhys and Feyre distracted by a line of couriers vying for their attention. Keir was off in a dark corner conversing with a male you recognized as Lord Thanatos. You looked back at Eris and he quirked an eyebrow. “It appears most everyone has their hands occupied right now. Shall we seek somewhere private after this?”

Eris leaned down, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “I’d like that very much, Princess.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes as he stood back up with a charming grin on his face. “You are as much of a flirt as your brother is,” you chided, waiting for the song to end so you could make your exit without drawing attention.

“Don’t tell me you’re referring to little Lucien? Doesn’t he have a mate he's still pining after?”

As you were spun again, you glanced back at Azriel, whose arms were crossed as he continued to glare in your direction. Good, you were glad he was upset.

“Not lately,” you answered. It was true; Lucien rarely came around if Elain was present. He seemed to have given up on trying to win her attention for the time being. Perhaps he had also noticed the growing interest between her and Azriel.

“Well I say good for him,” Eris chuckled. “A Vanserra has never had to beg a female for her heart. They merely present it to us on a platter.”

“You are so full of it, Eris.”

The music finally lulled to a stop and Eris let go of you, holding out his arm instead. “Allow me to prove it to you, Princess.”

You slipped a hand into the crevice of his elbow as you dipped out of the throne room before anyone could notice. Just as you had stepped into the corridor, a cold hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting the both of you. You already knew who it was before you turned around.

Azriel was seething as he glanced between the two of you. “You aren’t supposed to go anywhere without an escort, y/n. You know that.”

You glanced at him as if he were inconveniencing you, though you knew he had followed. “I have one,” you replied, nodding your head towards Eris, who gave the shadowsinger a cunning smirk.

“He doesn’t count,” Azriel hissed.

“Fine, then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here,” you shrugged before turning back around and leading Eris down the hallway. “Come, I know a private place we can go to.”

You chatted with Eris as you walked, completely ignoring the angry bat that followed one step behind. Azriel was really starting to confuse you further. What the hell was he so upset about when he made his choice in Elain so clear?

You took them down a dark, narrowed hall that looked like it was a dead end but a door appeared as you approached. It was just another secret meeting room. There were many in this court and you were familiar with most. You let Eris enter first and stood in the threshold blocking Azriel’s way.

“Thank you, Azriel,” you said politely. “But I have it from here.”

Azriel looked at you and then over your shoulder at Eris, his eyes full of icy rage. “Your brother has ordered me to stay with you at all times, y/n. Especially in the case of being around someone who may wish you harm.”

Eris snorted and you glanced back at him. “Hm Eris, do you plan on harming me?”

“I was hoping to do quite the opposite, Princess.” His voice was full of wicked promise.

Azriel growled lowly and the noise sent a shiver down your spine that you fought to cover up. “See, there’s no need for you here,” you chimed and then before he could even take a step forward, you slammed the door in his face and locked it. You quickly threw up a ward knowing he’d still try to spy with his shadows.

Eris chuckled as he sat down on one of the plush couches. You took a seat on the one opposite, conjuring up a tray with two empty glasses and a bottle of expensive liquor on the coffee table between you.

“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?” you asked as you poured the both of you a glass.

“Oh, there is nothing of importance for us to discuss. I just quite enjoy getting a rise out of the shadowsinger and for some reason, he seems to be particularly bothered with my proximity to you.” Eris crossed his legs and threw his arm around the back of the couch. The perfect picture of a male proud of himself. “Thank you for unintentionally helping me in my quest. I’m sure your shadowsinger thinks I’m trying to seduce you in here.”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed. “You pulled me from enjoying my own party just to make Azriel upset?”

“Oh please, we both know no one enjoys the parties down here.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “And it wasn’t the only reason. It's not very often that Rhys lets his little sister be in the presence of those he considered unsavory. Perhaps I am interested in your company as well.”

“Well you’ve got my full, undivided attention now,” you replied, sitting back against the couch with your glass in your hand.

Eris grabbed his glass as well, twirling it in his hand as he studied you. “So, tell me, why is it that the shadowsinger is pacing back and forth in front of the door, cursing me under his breath, as we speak?”

“He’s an overprotective, Illyrian bat. Just like my brother and Cassian,” you said in dismissal.

“Hm, I’m not quite sure that’s the only reason.”

“You seem to have an obsession with Azriel, Eris. Do you want me to put in a good word for you?” You gave him a brazen smile.

“Alright, little bird, I’ll drop it. I’m far more interested in the beautiful female sitting in front of me as it is.” You hated that your cheeks turned pink at his words. Eris was handsome with his red hair and amber eyes. Even his scent of cinnamon and vetiver was enticing. But he just wasn’t Azriel. “Will you indulge me in a game of chess as we chat?”

Glad to move on from the subject, you did just that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Alright, that’s enough—”

You were nearly three rounds deep in a game of chess when the door burst open and Azriel came stalking inside. You jumped a bit at the intrusion as Eris’s focus stayed on the chessboard like he had anticipated this.

You looked up at the shadowsinger who was panting, his hair in disarray. His eyes widened as he took in the casual scene of you and Eris playing a game of chess. You raised an eyebrow at him but he only continued to glower at Eris.

“Enough of what, shadowsinger?” Eris asked nonchalantly as he moved one of his chess pieces.

“Enough of whatever the fuck you guys are doing,” Azriel huffed before looking at you with his arms crossed. “You’re needed back in the throne room. Now.”

You very much doubted that, but decided to play along. You were losing this game anyways. You set your glass down on the table and stood, straightening out your gown. “Apologies, Eris, but apparently, duty calls.”

Eris stood as well, gathering his coat that he had discarded at one point. “I should be getting back before my father grows suspicious anyways. I would very much like to do this again, Princess, if you’ll have me,” he said, grasping your hand and pressing a kiss to it like he did before.

You gave him a slight dip of the head. “You know where to find me.”

He said his goodbyes, not without throwing a smirk in Azriel’s direction, before he disappeared, leaving only some crackling embers in his wake. You went to leave the room but Azriel reached an arm over your head and shut the door right in your face. You let out a disgruntled noise and turned around to Azriel towering over you, his gaze darkened.

“I thought I was needed in the throne room,” you said, sarcastically.

He ignored you, keeping one hand on the door to keep it closed as he watched you. “So, you’re into Eris now? He’s a dangerous male, y/n.”

“I think I can decide that for myself,” you snapped. “Maybe I am interested in him. What does it matter to you?”

He took a step closer, boxing you in against the door much like he had done that night. “I already told you it matters to me.”

“You also told me to stay away from you. So why did you agree to be my guard for the next week? Why the fuck are you here?”

“Because someone has to watch over you! Especially when you decide to go strutting around in a dress like this,” he growled. “Tell me something, Princess, just who exactly did you have in mind when you put this on?”

His gloved hand trailed up the side of your thigh, to where the dress was held together with ribbon. You hated how much your skin tingled at his touch, hated the butterflies that arose in your stomach at his heated stare. Hating how your heart picked up its pace.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “If you’re implying that it was you I was thinking of, Azriel, then I’d say you think far too highly of yourself.”

“Your body says otherwise,” he growled, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

You put both your hands on his chest and pushed him away. “No, no! You don’t get to do this, Azriel! You came to me. You came to my balcony, almost kissed me, and then disappeared for days! And then the next time I saw you, you had your tongue down Elain’s throat before running off to go fuck eachother.”

“I didn’t fuck Elain,” he grunted. “I’ve never fucked Elain.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No…I don’t know—fuck!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I did as you said. I left you alone like you wanted,” you spat at him. “You cannot come back to me and cast any sort of judgment on who I wish to spend my time with. You can’t come to me and act like you want me now. You had your chance and you were the one who walked away. So why won’t you just leave me alone?”

You said the words but your heart was screaming the opposite. All you wanted was to grab him, to kiss him, to continue where you guys had left off that night. You can tell in the way he stared at you that he wanted the same. But you deserved better than that—better than this.

“Because I can’t. I can’t stay away from you,” Azriel said. He looked unhinged, desperate. As if your mere presence caused him such conflict. His eyes were pleading you for something, but you had no idea what he even wanted. He was so hot and cold.

So you squared your shoulders and straightened the crown on your head.

“Well, that's your problem not mine,” you said before finally leaving the room.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gods, the last few days had been draining. Dealing with Keir was a headache without having to also be around the brooding shadowsinger. You two hadn’t spoken to each other besides small words in passing and you tried to ignore his heavy gaze most of the time. The rest of your family had returned to Velaris after the party, leaving just you two to occupy the Moonstone Palace. Thankfully it was a rather big place which made it easier to avoid Azriel.

But you still had half a week left with him here.

You sank yourself further down in the bathtub, twisting your wine glass in your hand. You had a lot to think about. Your brother was crafting a response to Prince Cedric and needed your input of whether you wished to get to know him better, if you felt anything towards him. Eris had also sent you a letter today. Apparently this time he actually did have something of importance to share with you, but had also admitted to wishing to see you again.

Perhaps it was time to move on from Azriel. Prince Cedric was handsome and kind, with his wavy blonde hair and cerulean eyes. But he lived on the continent, would eventually rule there, and you didn’t know if you could live so far away from your brother, nephew and soon to be niece.

And then there was Eris. All the Vanserra males were annoyingly attractive and one day soon, he’d be the High Lord of Autumn. But he was complex. Half the time you didn’t even know which mask was his real personality. Was he really a kind male underneath that cruel armor he wore? Not to mention his past with your cousin.

You sighed and drank the rest of your wine before getting out of the bath. You pulled on your silk nightgown, the Palace charmed too warm to wear anything else to sleep, and dried your hair with some magic. It was late and you figured it was safe enough now to wonder about—figuring Azriel was asleep or at the very least, in his own bed chambers.

You made your way down the vast corridors until you ended up right in front of the double doors leading into the study. Your brain was restless right now, but maybe some reading would help. You pushed the doors open and immediately wanted to curse the Mother. Of course you would jinx yourself. Of course the shadowsinger would be in the study already.

Azriel looked up as the doors opened, his eyes finding yours. He looked…rough. His hair was in disarray, his eyes shadowed, and an almost empty bottle of whiskey sat on the small table in front of the armchair he was sitting in. You stood there for a moment, both staring at each other, until the doors slamming closed behind you made you jump.

You let out a sigh and turned around, ready to leave, when his voice stopped you. “Don’t…Don’t leave. Please.”

The desperation in his voice made you pause and you studied the intricate doors in front of you. You should leave. You absolutely should walk through those doors and go back to your private bed chambers. But…But this tension between the two of you was a dark cloud lingering over you. You had never had a contentious relationship with anyone in the Inner Circle.

So you stayed, turning around and letting out a gasp as you came face to face with Azriel. You hadn’t even heard him move, hadn’t heard him even get up. You placed a hand over your heart and took a step back, putting more distance between the two of you.

He reached for you but you took another step back, sniffing the air. “You’re drunk, Az.”

“I know,” he said, darkly. “But I can’t take this shit anymore. I can’t do anything when I know how upset you are with me. I hate it, y/n. I hate that I’ve hurt you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, upset. How could he be taking this so poorly when he was the one who caused all of this? You said nothing, just stared at him expectantly.

“Princess…” he trailed off, staring down at you with melancholy eyes. “I…Can we please just forget about the past week? I can’t stand you being upset with me. Can we just…go back to how things used to be—before all of this?”

“How?” you breathed out. “How am I just supposed to forget?”

How could you forget the hurt he had caused you…how could you erase the image of him and Elain stumbling into the River House in a heat of passion…by the cauldron, how could you forget about the way he treated you at training…and the night on the balcony afterwards. How?

“I don’t know,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He looked devastating in the dim faelights of the study, surrounded by marble bookcases and the open walls looking out towards the mountains. Even as dishelved as he was. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you. I fucked up. I should’ve never come to you that night…I should’ve never touched you.”

Hurt flashed across your face. Had he really not wanted you that night? Had you completely misinterpreted his actions? Was he about to finally tell you he didn’t want you—that he wanted Elain and was sorry for leading you on? You didn’t know if your heart could take it…

“No, don’t…” Azriel said, seeming to notice where your thoughts had turned. “I don’t mean it like that, princess.” He reached a hand forward, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “I did want you…I still do. But you have to understand, we can’t. This…us…it can never happen.”

“Why?” you choked out. He didn’t make any sense. If you wanted him, and he wanted you, then what the hell was stopping either of you? Was he scared of how your brother might react? If that was the case then he could just say so. You could deal with Rhys.

His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin. You shouldn’t let him touch you. Shouldn’t even be so close to him. But Gods, your heart ached for his touch.

“Because,” he started, then faltered for a moment. “Because it just can’t, princess. I’m sorry.”

You pushed his hand away from you. “You owe me more than that, Azriel! You owe me a godsdamn explanation. Why? Why can’t it happen? Because of Elain–”

“No,” he growled. “It has nothing to do with Elain. I don’t even care about Elain. I just want you—”

“I don’t think you know what you want, Azriel,” you scoffed. “You can’t stand here and say you don’t want Elain after what I witnessed between you two. I saw you, you know, in the kitchens that night. I saw you together before I even went to the continent. So don’t tell me you don’t want her, don’t care for her!”

“It’s the truth,” he pleaded. “I swear to the Gods themselves. I don’t want Elain. I have never wanted Elain. I have never even wanted Mor. All I’ve ever wanted was you. You and only you.”

“You’re not making any sense,” you cried. “How can you even say that? I watched you pine after Mor for years! And now everything with Elain—”

“I need you to understand, princess. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to. But we cannot happen. I saw the way you looked at me and Gods, I wanted nothing other than to tell you how I felt. But you…I can never have you. So I pretended to pine after Mor for years hoping you’d move on. And then she came out to all of us, told us she preferred females, so I had to find someone else—”

“You expect me to believe that this whole time you’ve been pretending to like other girls? Mor, maybe I can believe because you never pursued her. But Elain? Azriel, I stumbled upon you guys twice! It certainly didn’t look like you were pretending.”

“Because that night in the kitchens I was trying to make myself want her. Make myself want anyone other than you. Because I can’t have you, princess, don’t you get it! It’s fucking agony to crave you the way I do and not be able to do anything about it. So I tried, Gods, I tried to move on. But it didn’t work. We never got past what you saw. I couldn’t force myself to want her because I don’t. I don’t want anyone other than you.”

“And what about the second time? Were you just pretending then, as well?”

“I knew you were home that night. I had been tracking you the whole day with my shadows. After what happened between us on the balcony, I was scared you’d try to act on your feelings for me. So I purposefully sought out Elain. Purposefully led her back when I knew you’d be there to catch us. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I hurt you but I needed you to move on. Even if it meant you’d hate me.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stuttered. “If you want me and I want you, then what’s stopping us, Azriel? Why do you keep saying you can’t have me? Is it because of my brother? Do you think he wouldn’t approve—wouldn’t think you deserving? Because you are, Az. I love—”

Azriel surged forward and pressed you against the door with a hand around your mouth, wings snapped out to their full length. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, your chest heaving.

“Don’t,” he snarled. “Don’t say it. Don’t. I won’t be able to control myself and this will all be for nothing. This will all end horribly.”

When you made no move to say anything else, his hand slowly dropped from your mouth. You felt tears line your eyes. You felt frustrated, mad, upset. You couldn’t wrap your head around what he was trying to tell you.

“At least tell me why, Azriel. Don’t you think I deserve that? You said you’re sorry for hurting me but can’t you see how much you’re hurting me by doing this? It hurts more to know you want me the way I want you but not enough to be with me.”

Azriel let out a groan and sank to his knees in front of you, bowing his head. “You have no idea how much I want you, princess. No idea. It is you who is in my head every single second of every single day. It is you I think about as I fall asleep and you I think about the moment I awake. I would crawl through hell on my knees just to be able to kiss you, to hold you, to love you. But I can’t….I can’t, y/n.”

You held your breath, a few tears leaking from your eyes. This was everything you’d ever wanted. These were words he had only ever told you in your dreams. And here he was, finally saying them for real. But in the same breath, telling you that this, that you and him, would never, ever happen.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why?”

But Azriel said nothing further. Just knelt on his knees in front of you like he was praying to the Gods, his head bowed between his shoulders, his wings drooping against the floor. You waited for him to say anything, anything that might help you understand. But nothing…nothing ever came from his mouth.

You loosened a breath, your heart heavy in your chest and left.

Left Azriel on his knees in that room, with the words he said hanging over him like a death sentence.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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highhhfiveee · 6 months

Text

safety net [p4]

tags: pornstar!mike schmidt, fluff (cute anniversary moments, award show memories, and talks of the future), mentions of smut (videos mike has made, including pegging and glory holes, and suggestiveness at the end), angst (insecurity and awkwardness🫂). proofread, but there are potential errors ofc. i also don't know how award shows really work atm so enjoy this dramatization lmao

part three: 📹

“happy one year, baby.”

the wind whips your hair across your face as mike drops his hand-blindfold from your eyes, and your chest tightens with shock as you track your gaze over the scene in front of you.

you still couldn't believe how thoughtful mike was, even after all this time. you'd told him that you'd wanted to stay in for your anniversary, and he'd accepted your request with open arms; so much so that he'd arranged an entire set-up on his balcony.

you'd thought there would be food and lights at minimum, but you weren't expecting an entire wooden pergola strung with yellow fairy lights above a large dining table, or three dozen white roses being placed in your hands, or the small quintet playing smooth jazz in the corner, bordered by the sizzling glow of nightlife that stretched for miles behind them.

the city, bright and pulsing with energy, from this height isn't a backdrop that you'd ever expected to surrounded with, but nothing up here is anything you'd ever seen in your entire life, at least not all together in one singular place for one purpose. you're staring at everything with blank eyes, but only because the amalgamation of your feelings has you immobilized.

“do you like everything?” mike asks frantically when you don't say anything, rubbing your goose-bumped arms with gentle passion characteristic of his boyish charm. "is it enough? god, wait, let me get you a jacket." mike skitters back inside, leaving you to try and take everything in.

you'd been over twenty-four hours prior, and there was nothing that could've given away what he was up to. he hadn't let anything slip, and you're surprised that he was able to keep something so massive under such tight lock. the fact that he doesn't think it's enough, frenzied and feral for your response, bewilders you further and you're still staring at the pergola, saying to the attendant standing by, "did they put that up this morning?" when you feel fabric cloak your bare shoulders. it's mike's jacket, the same one that he'd put on you the night you met, and knowing him, it's intentional.

you whisper, "thank you", a light soundwave in the air, and mike's throwing a frown your way, walking you over to the dining table. "god, it's not enough, huh?"

there's a solid gold candelabra in the middle of the table, the flames of small candles licking at the skyline. your table settings are fancy, with silverware of different sizes, overly-starched cloth napkins, finely ironed placemats covered by a menu printed on thick cardstock, and crystal glasses that look like they must've cost mike his own arms and legs and those of his first born son.

"mike, you've got to be kidding me," he grabs the flowers from your grasp, setting them on the far side of the table before pulling your chair out for you. you slip your arms into the sleeves of his jacket as you sit. "it's definitely enough and perfect, i just...all this is for us?"

"for us," he confirms with a smirk, settling himself into his own seat. his position adjacent from you allows you to get your first good look at his outfit, considering he'd whisked you inside and shielded your vision as soon as you'd crossed into his foyer. "for me, and for you."

his crisp, sluttily unbuttoned white dress shirt and black jeans clash with your plaid argyle vest and workwear khakis, and you're blushing as you retreat into his jacket.

"no fair, how could you let me come underdressed?" you'd made your way over straight from work per his request, and with everything being so fancy and ornate, you wish that you'd fought against him for a chance to change into something more fitting.

"i didn't want you stressing about something as arbitrary as clothes tonight. you always look beautiful, work attire or not," he patiently reassures, wrangling your clammy hands into his ring-clad ones and kissing at every single one of your knuckles. "it's refreshing, having you like this."

he'd been using that word in reference to you a lot recently, refreshing, and while being mike's breath of fresh air should've filled you with an overwhelming sense of pride, you couldn't deny the strange, acidic aftertaste that it imprinted on your spirit.

you'd only become hyperaware of mike's notoriety in the porn industry in the latter few months of your relationship; sure, he'd been doing it for a decade and had a ton of videos and a slew of awards, but ever since you'd been stopping by the studio and tagging along on some of his work errands (namely holding his hand during testings), you'd started to get the picture on how massive he was in his world.

Ecstasy Sindicate, cleverly named, had been the american production company to watch over the last decade, and mike was their treasure trove, an absolute goldmine of content and charisma.

once, you'd been tasked with going through his piles of fanmail, skimming through (sometimes used) panties and bras and letters, some of them detailing people's parasocial attachments to chase cox ("want him to come in you? get in line", you once mumbled).

he was famous in this sphere; all eyes on him, his next moves, and now you. early on, you would've never believed that you'd have to private all of your social media accounts and deal with internet idiots, but when your mentions started to bubble with comments, questions, and scorn about all things chase cox and y/n, it'd finally dawned on you that you were with someone of status and that you gained some attention simply by association.

one trademark experience of this sudden breakthrough was the award show he'd taken you to a few months ago. the xtc awards were huge in the industry, completely fan-nominated and -voted. it garnered alot of buzz, helped catapult lots of people's careers, and this year, mike had been the most nominated performer.

you'd given him a wooden "yayyyy", squinting your eyes in awkward agony when he cheered, "nominated for eleven awards and get to walk to the carpet with my incredibly sexy plus one. it's gonna be great."

just the title of plus one made you feel like you were out of your league, an additional label of pressure saddled on your shoulders. you weren't just his girlfriend anymore; you were his guest, so you had to look good, and be good, and do proper guest things. you didn't even know what those things were.

mike made the looking good part easy for you, or in his words, "i'm just assisting. you're really doing all the work, beautiful."

you chose your own dress, of course. all mike asked for was permission to sit in on your fitting; an intimate meeting with one of the most sought after stylists in entertainment. you'd gaped at the tags on every single one, gasping and heaving when price figures passed from three to four, then four to five.

"this is two more zeros than i've ever seen on the price of a dress," you rasped, twisting your hips in a navy blue floor-length gown. you'd never worn anything like it; with its price first and foremost, but secondly, with its airy material and deep plunge neckline.

it made you feel confident, attaching to your body in what felt to you like kismet, and though you wanted to keep playing dress-up with all the designer pieces you were surrounded by, you knew that you'd found the one.

"it's yours if you want it, baby," mike insisted, and you made eye contact with him in the mirror, amusedly pursing your lips at his low, sultry gaze. then, you felt like you could be in his world. you could go into the award show on his arm, assimilating to the environment with an ease that wasn't just because of mike. you could belong there just for being dolled up, costumed from head to toe just like everyone else.

"cost a lot to look good, huh?" you hummed, sturdily placing your hands on your hips.

"and look good, you do."

on the ride back to his house, you'd come back down to earth a bit, pouting to him, "can i at least give you $50 for the dress?"

he'd chuckled at you, mumbling, "y/n, my love, no. it's just a rental. got it for a pretty fair price actually..."

he stopped when he caught your grimace, your thin finger poking at his arm in earnest; you genuinely wanted to give him something for it, and who was he to deny you that? you just wanted to be nice, considering what he'd done for you. he loved you for that, for all that you are; he'd weakened into you as he spread his warm hand across your thigh. "but...if you really want to, of course."

he smiled in awe at the way you cheered, eagerly fishing your phone from your bag and sending him an apple cash message; money he'd ended up giving back to you days later when you mentioned a book series you were interested in.

renting you a five figure dress wasn't the only thing he'd had up his sleeve; he'd given you an opportunity to have all your hair and makeup done by some of the best professionals in the industry. you hadn't been overly thrilled with the news, only because you didn't know how you would feel about being poked and prodded for hours. it was another part of dress-up, and while switching clothes every couple of minutes was fun, having to sit very still in a chair while people touched you was not, at least to you.

still, you'd caved, melting at mike's wild rambles about their artistry and expertise. not everyone in life got to have these moments, and there you were, feeling standoffish towards a gateway into a life of exploration.

you gave mike your strongest grin, working to maintain it through your sessions as you sat in between so many perfect people, conversing and planning with their own salaried glam teams. most of them weren't even just pornstars; the hotel you were at had put you in the proximity of some of the most notable musicians, models, and faces in the current pop culture climate, and you felt like an imposter in your own skin.

you hadn't even minded the services anyway. you'd managed some conversation with the artists, asking them about what books they liked and what their favorite cake was. you'd tickled them, and while you'd felt like you'd cracked your way in ever so slightly, you still didn't feel right.

even as your hair was swept into an intricate updo dusted with glitter, and your face primed and painted with items totaling more than your biweekly salary, you hadn't felt like you'd deserved any of it.

your idea of belonging because you looked like everyone else didn't convince you much. you hadn't done anything to be there, unlike some of the massive names you'd seen pass through the glam suite conference room; mike was your entry, and the thought made your skin prickle, as if everyone's eyes were cutting you with contempt.

the being good portion of being a guest came when you'd met mike's assistant/publicist/friend, matilda (manic pixie dream girl sans pixie and dream); she'd barged into the private nail appointment you and mike were having, jolting you both into looking up at her from your perches on the bed. she looked like a mad scientist, wearing a long white jacket with her spiky platinum blonde hair pulled into two sprouts at the top of her head. her wispy bangs skirted her eyebrows, and she raised her right one with a smile and, "oh so glad to see you two all done up, but did i miss the part about a spa day in the schedule?"

she swirled her index finger over the two of you and then jammed it into her clipboard, beginning a jovial back and forth with mike. "i wanted to plan a surprise for y/n. you know, it's my schedule and i have access to it."

"yes, but you have to tell me when you make changes, mike! we've been doing this for years, what happened to the synergy?"

you'd loved mike's act of defiance; once, you'd sleepily mumbled about how cute it would be to have matching nails as you observed his hands while you cuddled in bed, and now, he'd made that one-off moment a memory for the both of you.

"----well, you're done, yeah? we've gotta get to the venue now. they want to run a long dress rehearsals and even thinking about it is stressing me the fuck out. the bosses haven't even shown up yet!"

you were fascinated by the ability of such an event to be organized and chaotic at the same time. though mike had his security detail and team with him to keep him on schedule, there was always some instance of disarray (a missing tie, another talent going over their appointment time) where matilda had to ferociously bark into her headset, giving the people on the other end a lashing that would make anyone forfeit a career in entertainment forever.

"move, move, move!" she chants as she fans both you and mike into the backseat of a black truck, keeping her eyes on a weighty clipboard stacked with memos and call-sheets as she takes a seat herself.

"mike tells me it's your first time at something like this," she'd said during the ride, nodding towards the neurotic hand wringing you'd been doing. you blushed, moving to sit on your hands. mike chuckled at you softly, and you opened your mouth to answer matilda. you'd noticed that she'd trained her focus elsewhere, pointing her pen towards a list on paper, and then at tangible things strewn around the truck. you stayed silent until she prompted, "well?"

"um, yes. i...um, live on the south side and work in an office," you replied. "sorry, you just weren't...looking at me so i didn't know you still wanted an answer---"

matilda sucked her teeth, leering at you with an almost animated longing. "god, you're lucky. how i wish i could be normal again. assisting is multitasking hell. a lot of the time i'm not looking while i do something else, so don't take it personally. busy busy busy mind up here," she tapped a manicured index finger on her forehead, baring her frazzled, ice blue eyes at you. "busy busy."

she unsettled you, deeply, but you'd been more concerned with how you were lucky in all this. on monday, you'd be back in your cubicle, sucking down a cold brew with oat milk on an empty stomach, and she'd be surrounded by stars galore. it didn't seem like you were the winner in this situation, or at least the person living the more charmed life.

things had ramped up by a thousand degrees once you'd made it to the venue, matilda's barking happening more often than times you'd blinked.

"we have not a minute to spare, people! time is money and we waste neither!" by that mantra, you and mike were dressed from head to toe in what felt like a blink. he was being whisked away for rehearsals soon after, leaving you alone in the green room with your phone and a tower of fancy sparkling waters contained behind a gigantic clear fridge door.

you'd cracked one open, bringing it to your lips when matilda, who should've been with mike, poked her head into the room and glared you down. "use a straw, and hold it away from your dress. you want that deposit back, don't you?"

you'd entertained yourself for the last hour by trying every flavor of sparkling water you'd seen and ranking them on a tier list; you were on cranberry limeade when mike and maltida strolled in, breathing out, "some of these flavors are unnecessary," with a small burp at the end.

your silly little moment had distracted you from what was actually happening, and the pit in your stomach, created by the imposter syndrome brewing within you, began to expand again as matilda guided you and mike to the auditorium breezeway for the red carpet.

matilda swiped at your flyaways, fine tuning you for getty images before moving onto mike. she adjusted his rings and pins before pulling out a small tin of product to touch up his hair; he griped at her, hissing, "no thank you. there's already enough shit in it."

"i know you love the tousled look, but this is your first red carpet with your laaadyyyyy," matilda sang, rubbing some pomade between her palms and reaching up to comb it through mike's strands, forgoing his pout. "best if you don't look like you've just come right from the passion set."

you were provided with the rundown while you waited for your turn to walk the carpet. "okay, it's not that much of a deal. it's all about angles, so i hope you know yours. don't worry too much about what the photogs are screaming at you either. they're here for you, not the other way around. make sure to smile, but not too much; if you can, smize and keep all your emotion above the nose like this----"

matilda demonstrated for you, a dramatic motion that you genuinely attempted to follow, but mike held out his hand in exasperation, prematurely halting the antics. "just follow me, baby. you'll be fine," he kissed at your forehead, taking your hand in his as he led you from the shadowy hall. "you look damn amazing."

besides his nails, he'd coordinated with you in the sweetest ways; colored accents on his suit, opting for a handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket, your initials embroidered into the fabric in navy blue, and gold cuff links to pair with your jewelry. it comforted you to know that he was flaunting himself as your counterpart, feeling dignity at the fact that you were his other half. you nuzzled into him, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his palm. "you don't look half bad yourself."

though you'd never let go of mike's hand throughout the stop and go, you'd still been overwhelmed with it as a whole; every flashbulb, "chase, chase! over here!", "tell us about the special lady!", and abrupt movement down the line, commandeered by a suddenly militant matilda, was unfamiliar to you. you were sure that mike felt the tension erupting throughout you, and you tried to find solace in the feeling of his touch, whether it was on the small of your back or waist or hand. he never left your side, and you were grateful for his chivalry, though it couldn't overpower the overstimulation you felt.

your overactive brain had stiffened you, causing you to transform into a sentient two by four, and you'd gripped for mike's shoulder, turning into his body as the harsh lights burned the skin of your exposed back. it was embarrassing, cowering like that. you'd heard matilda calling, "face out! face out!" from the end of the stop and repeat, but it felt almost impossible; you couldn't think of any angles, the yelling photographers made your head hurt, and how the fuck did you smize?

mike had turned to his side, wrapping his arms around you and showering you with kisses. he'd managed to loosen you up enough for a candid smile and laugh, and you worked to throw your face towards the lights again, closing your eyes and giving them your best grin. you'd caught matilda giving you both two zealous thumbs up when your eyes opened, while she exaggeratedly squealed, "love it!"

you were just starting to have fun, mike dipping you for an "oh, so romantic!" photo-op, when your upside down vision locked on amelie, beginning her own walkthrough a dozen or so feet from you.

you understood why she was the most popular girl on Ecstasy Sindicate's website; she played femme fatale on and off screen, and in such an effortless way, using her eyes and ever-glossy pout in her favor. she oozed sex appeal monday through sunday, and besides her striking beauty, it almost felt like a crime to you that she was more enticing with her clothes on.

the sheath silhouette and queen anne neckline of her black dress sculpted her body perfectly, a tear-drop crystal-adorned shawl draped so delicately over her narrow shoulders trailing past her long legs as she strolled. her dark hair had been flattened pin-straight, held back with silver bobby pins to showcase the gigantic diamond earrings that dangled from her lobes, shimmering in the light as opposed to her low, dramatic smize.

that's how you did it.

the demands from the media shifted, ringing around you as you gawked at her from mike's arms, right side up now. "the money maker!" "turn for us, show it all!".

"give us chase and michaela together!"

mike looked to you like he was asking permission, and it made you feel icky. asking you for permission meant that he'd been clued in to your feelings, and you couldn't handle the thought of him knowing that you were genuinely envious of his coworker.

"yeah, go, go. you don't have to ask."

he'd handed you off to matilda at the end of the carpet, placing a soft kiss on your lips before marching over to amelie and pulling her into his side by her waist. you tried to maintain your calm, reminding yourself that this was work for them, but it was almost impossible to look past their effortless connection; it was disgusting the way they fawned over each other, complimenting clothing and hair and body parts with steady glances and bubbly laughs.

"makes your shoulders look very broad, is that what you were going for?" amelie's hands grazed over his shoulders and down his arms with a lazy appreciation.

"well it's not working since you have your legs out. i mean, c'mon they overshadow everything."

you'd been close to combustion watching amelie rest her hand against mike's pec, covering the personalization on his handkerchief as the cameras flashed at an inhuman tempo for the two of them. she slid into an easy pose, melting into mike as he tightened his grip on her hip. "over here! over here!" "looking good as always you two!"

"god, they're hot together," matilda confessed, biting at the cap of her pen. with a quick cut of the eyes to you, she jumped, face-palming and erratically musing, "sorry, they're just our most popular pairing and whew, we can all see why. so she's a bit taller than him? they both ooze insane sex appeal, and the chemistry! that's what attracts the people. height doesn't equal hotness, attitude does. remember that, y/n."

they were hot together, and while a part of your brain imagined your body pressed between the two of them, it took everything in the physical you not to cause a scene, shoving your way between them and ruining all their shots with middle fingers and boob shots, nipples and all. you were willing to fight back, but you could only think about how bad it would look on mike for your insecurity to impede on his night.

inside, you were sat at a table with mike and a few of his other coworkers. amelie sat across from you; she'd almost looked bored, mouthing a few tired phrases to those around her while you openly observed her being. matilda had encouraged mike to network with some insiders before the show started, and you'd used that time to stare, trying to uncover what made her so...her.

you'd tried to be more covert with your reconnaissance when mike returned to his seat, placing his hand on your thigh with a kiss to your cheek as the ceremony began, but she'd caught you every time, tossing you a flirty wink when you lingered for a moment too long.

mike had won so many awards that night; it was a clean sweep on all of the major categories---choice male performer, performer of the year, video of the year, production company of the year---and you'd thanked god for it; the frequent announcement of his name allowed you moments where you didn't have to focus on the woman across from you ogling him like he was a piece of meat. you were able to hug and kiss him in such a possessive fashion, maintaining amelie's surveil of you each time you pulled away.

mike included you in all of his speeches--"and to my beautiful girlfriend, who's been by my side through this entire year". the camera panned to you a handful of times, and you smiled shyly, giving a bashful giggle here and a dismissive wave there.

you'd gloated in it, wondering what you'd do during the next cuts to you, but they never ended up happening again. mike had skipped over his gratitude for you and your support during his last win... choice pairing with amelie.

they gave each other a tight hug at the table, dashing up to the stage hand in hand, and the sheer amount of people standing and clapping for them had you withdrawing into your seat. this is what millions of views, wicked sex appeal, and allurement got you, you'd inferred.

"and finally, i have to thank michaela here. really, we have to thank each other. i wouldn't be standing here accepting this award with her if it wasn't for her and all of our loyal fans out there, so thank you, thank you, thank you."

amelie took the award from him, leaning down to the microphone with her tongue skating over her teeth. she bit into her lip, stating, "chase basically took my speech and switched the names so, everything he said, thank you, thank you, thank you."

they laughed along with the audience, holding onto each other's arms as they kissed each other's cheeks, and while it's a friendly gesture, you noticed how amelie casually lifted her hand to his face, stroking at his freshly shaven jaw with a coy smirk.

you pushed past the agony you felt inside, rubbing mike's arm and offering him a tight smile as he settled back beside you, buzzing with adrenaline from his eventful night. "seven awards tonight, baby. fucking crazy, huh?"

you nodded, cutting your eyes to amelie as she snidely added, "all well deserved. we'd all know." the entire table erupted into amicable laughter, everyone congratulating mike with a personal quip of some sort. these people were a close knit unit, a chosen family in their world of adult entertainment, and though you were happy that mike was surrounded by so much love and support, you'd briefly wished that you two had been in some living room, watching trashy reality game shows and complaining about working your 9-5s the next day.

you'd opted to zone out for the rest of the night, mindlessly allowing for yourself to be subjected to many undoings of fabricated gaudiness. mike had noticed your exhaustion, and gave you time to yourself so you could clean up and decompress on your own terms, which you were thankful for. you loved him, but you needed time alone to cleanse yourself of the night you'd had.

you didn't leave the bathroom until your skin was rubbed raw and you were feeling a bit lighter, ready for the return to your world when you stumbled upon a cracked dressing room door.

low volume drum and bass music mingled into the hallway air, and you'd caught the back of amelie's relaxed silhouette moving from left to right over a dusty-looking vanity counter. she turned after a bit, whispering, "want some?" matilda appeared from somewhere, reaching out for something in front of amelie and tapping it on the table over and over until she leaned down herself, sniffling harshly against the laminate. amelie watched, a wicked smile etched onto her face as matilda coughed lightly.

"fucking shit."

you'd been stuck in place, glued to watching them snort another line of whatever was in the little baggie amelie pulled from her personal bag, and you were stupid enough to stay where you were as she turned, peering at you with a languid smirk as she wiped at her nostrils, pulling on them with her index finger and thumb.

"welcome to our world, girlie. wanna try?" you were sure you looked like a scared little kid as you shook your head frantically, your voice cracking as you said, "i don't know where you got it from, so no."

"oh, don't worry, my stuff's safe. mike's done plenty," she winked at you again, beginning to stroll over to you, but you'd moved on without an answer, heading to the venue exit where mike waited for you, cradling you in his arms as you ventured into the parking lot.

"so," he prodded, stroking at your hair as you laid across his lap in the backseat of the chauffeured car. his voice was tired, and while the lilt usually broke up anything ailing your mind, you'd been too focused on your interaction with amelie. "what did you think of your first award show?"

"it was fun," you lied, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your fingers. it'd been fun until your self-doubt took over, suffocating you with obstructive thoughts and a deep-rooted feeling of dread. "never thought i'd get to experience something like that. amelie even offered me coke."

he didn't say anything to that, and you'd adjusted yourself so you could see his face, the deep grimace upon his features and clenched jaw shrouded in moonlight. "did you do any of it?"

"no, but she said you'd done plenty." you didn't mean for your displeasure to come through so intensely; you hadn't minded that mike had done coke, only that amelie had been testament to it. what other compromising, intimate positions had she seen him in, and would she always hold them over your head? why hadn't he told you about it?

"that was a long time ago," mike cautiously stated, flipping you over in his lap so your face was level with his abdomen. you were poised to ask him for an elaboration when he traced hearts over your lips with his smooth fingertip, grinning, "you don't have to worry about me and that stuff, okay? i'm just glad you said no. it's refreshing."

there it was. he always said it when you were experiencing something from a world different than your own, and it made you feel like you were something to be ogled; something on a pedestal that had been recently unearthed when all you were was...you.

he felt so lucky to have you; a girlfriend that was normal after so long of being with people who knew the industry like him, the ins and outs of it like the back of his hand. he loved that you didn't have your days planned out months in advance, and that you didn't need a daily hair and makeup appointment just to sit in the house; he especially loved that you were turned off by amelie's reckless offer, but you hated it. you hated that it made you feel like a nobody, and felt odd at the way that he was so beguiled by your normalcy, entertained by the fact that this was all foreign to you.

"this sounds like self-sabotage," your therapist had said, eyeing you with careful consideration. "mike loves that you're 'normal', doesn't he?"

"yes, but..."

"but? isn't being 'normal' being 'yourself'?" you didn't mention amelie like you'd intended to. it felt pathetic to admit that you wanted her stature, the label of someone or at least someone on the same level as mike.

it didn't feel good being normal next to...not normal, and it felt hopeless to you that you couldn't change it. you could, maybe even becoming mike's new partner, but the thought of putting yourself wholeheartedly on display like mike and amelie didn't inspire possibility in you. it wasn't what you wanted to do, and the small sliver of attention you'd gotten from people who wanted to fuck your boyfriend was enough for you on any given day. you knew any more attention would tip you overboard, but was normalcy really your destiny?

it gnaws at your insides, and you're defeated, wondering why couldn't you be happy with anything.

"baby," the sensation of mike gripping your chin brings you back to his balcony. you blink your eyes, flustered at the fact that you'd dissociated during your anniversary dinner. the attendant is standing with wine bottle in hand, and both her and mike are staring at you, puzzled. "are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm sorry. had a rough day at work and my brain's just a bit...blah," you nervously giggle, reaching to move your wine glass towards the neck of the uncorked bottle. the music playing ambiently around you is almost comical in this moment, and you scrunch your face into an strained smile. "fill 'er up."

get it together, you scream at yourself. mike had put this whole thing together for you two, and here you were, letting your mind wander to places that it didn't need to be. you were here with mike, celebrating the fact that you two had been together for an entire year.

claire had cheered when you called and told her, squealing, "your longest relationship!! congratulations, my sweet, deserving friend, and thank you for telling me this time."

it was the longest you'd ever been with someone. taking the risk, once again falling for someone on a whim, had panned out better than you'd hoped. all of those times of lost love had led you to the greatest one you'd ever known, and here you were, pitifully ruminating over the way that amelie had touched mike during their acceptance speech and the fact that you were saturated with so many complex feelings.

you take a sip of your wine, more like a gulp, and mike chuckles at you, nodding towards the bottle. you follow his motion, leaning in to read the label. it was a shiraz that you'd babbled on and on about, one that was nearly $1500 and almost impossible to get if you didn't know someone who knew someone who knew someone.

"mike..."

"aht aht, that's not even the part i'm most excited about," he boasts, flicking at the corner of the cardstock on your placemat. you lift it to eye level while you take more moderate drinks of your wine, piecing together the five courses of...your favorite foods.

"elevated versions of your favorite foods," mike corrects giddily, and you hadn't realized you'd said anything out loud. he's smiling so wide at you like he always does, and you're speechless, all of your words caught in the middle of your throat. "this three-star michelin chef---"

"mike, i'm sorry to interrupt but, this feels very...me centric. it's our anniversary." you didn't deserve any of this. if he'd been able to take a peek inside your head, he wouldn't be doing all of this for you. he'd realize that even a love like this couldn't remedy the trauma you'd collected in your brain, existing and newly sprouted. not a year in, at least.

"fair, but i want to celebrate you," it's like a movie, the way the quintet shifts their performance into a warm, romantic melody and how mike takes your hands again, squeezing them periodically. you squirm under his scrutiny, fluttering your eyes to your lap. "you've changed my life, y/n, and i'm not exaggerating. every date, every night we've spent here or at your place, every call, every text; everyday i get with you, i realize i am so fucking lucky."

you're not really a sentimental crier either, but mike's words and the turmoil inside of you have tears splashing down your cheeks. "i love you. i will never stop telling you i love you."

you chuckle stuffily, a blubbering, sobbing mess as you say, "i love you, mike. thank you for all of this, and uh...i'm really sorry for calling you a nice guy when we first met. i don't deserve you." he joins you with a deep belly laugh that rumbles through the both of you, and it helps you breathe some tension away. "water under the bridge, baby, i promise. you deserve everything."

the first course, brioche rolls with truffle oil-infused butter, is presented to the two of you, and you forgo all of your concerns, murmuring a mildly perky, "oooooh" as two are piled atop a fancy plate in front of you.

mike encourages you to stuff your face, and you do so with no question as you two coast through your decadent and mouthwatering favorites, washing down the best flavors money could buy with a wine you'd only ever gotten to drink in your dreams until tonight.

you and mike carry conversation over your meal; goofily moaning at the tastes dancing over your tongues and you giving mike the usual scoop about your day at the office. he listens intently and laughs at your tales of inexperienced clerks getting papers stuck in copiers and messy, HR-avoidant affairs between bosses and subordinates, and you try not to lose yourself in the moment again. you've managed to stay with him through four courses, enjoying his immense generosity and engrossing gossip, and you want to keep it that way. you'd already let your mind wander once, and you wouldn't let it happen again. not tonight.

unfortunately, your plan unravels when your sauce-smeared plate of seafood alfredo is removed from before you, replaced with a clean, simply presented slice of chocolate cake with vanilla icing.

you'd always told that the preference was silly, and no matter how hard you fought to explain that chocolate cake was more moist, no one listened to you.

your mom made you chocolate cakes with chocolate icing, or vanilla with vanilla, but never chocolate cake with vanilla icing.

mike reaches under the table to settle his hand over your thigh, rubbing at your skin through your pants. his face, painted orange by the candlelight, softens at the way you gaze down at your plate, shadowing the cake slice in a strange mix of melancholy and joy.

"made sure there were no questions about it. my baby likes chocolate cake with vanilla icing, so that's what she's gonna get."

you feel tears stinging at your eyes again, and you're using the backs of your hands to wipe at them, shrinking away from mike. "i'm sorry. i don't know why i'm crying. it's just a stupid piece of cake."

"no, it's not," mike murmurs, leaning into the table so he's able to talk to you closely and bring his hand to your left cheek, thumbing at the wetness there and sliding his caress to your jaw. his rings are cold, but you still melt into his touch, bringing your own hand up to grasp at his wrist. he touches you like this often, but tonight, it's the perfect antidote for every adverse feeling that's run its course through you. he is wholly yours like this, and there's nothing in your head that can tell you that this isn't your destiny. "that 'stupid piece of cake' had me thinking about some things."

"mmmm, what kind of thoughts could my cake preference have inspired in you?"

"settling down," mike answers matter-of-factly, maintaining his strong gaze on you as your entire body burns through your clothing. you swallow hard. "the cake is you. it's something you like, and when i...put it on the menu as our dessert, i couldn't stop thinking about how i wanted to eat chocolate cake with vanilla icing with you for the rest of my life."

you give mike an intimate laugh of cynicysm, primed to say, "yeah right," when he interrupts you.

"listen. i hadn't said anything about it yet, but...the company's physically expanding, internationally. the bosses wanted to have consistent yearly growth here in the states before even thinking about taking it overseas, and after almost fifteen years in business, we've met all of our goals and we're in the process of penning a partnership deal with a production mammoth. they've got offices in london, paris, tokyo, and sydney, and there are gonna be Ecstacy Sindicate divisions in all of them."

"oh, baby, that's amazing!" you applaud, throwing yourself from your chair to embrace mike, climbing into his lap and squeezing him so tight, he's sure he'll explode. he chuckles, tingling with electricity from your elation, and he scoops you into a cradle, meeting you with his boxy, enthusiastic smile. "mikeeeee, that's huge."

"i know, right? this is going to change everything, and i..." mike pauses, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he absorbs the feeling of you against him, your arms wrapped around his neck while you stare at him with curious, twinkling eyes. "i want you to be by my side through all of it. i want to take everything i get from this, every cent, every ounce of fame, everything; i want to take it and invest it into us, and our future. you have dreams and goals and aspirations, and i want to see every single one of them come true. i will help every single one of them come true, no matter what. i want the world to be ours."

you can't believe that mike is saying these things to you right now, hiding away in his neck as you try to comprehend what he's telling you. he wants to be with you, and have a future with you; one where all the benefits and rewards he reaps from his career also shower upon you, one where you never have to worry about a thing ever again in your life. he wants you to know love, care, and support for the rest of your life, in every way, shape, and form, and this opportunity will guarantee that.

you're happy for him, of course. he'd shown you so many things, but you knew that that kind of access didn't come easily. he'd truly worked for everything he'd had, and you wanted him to keep on an incline, working his way to the zenith. you'd be with him every step of the way, you promised. you loved mike, and you always wanted him to win. this was winning, and to be a part of it with him gave you hope.

"as silly as it may sound, you saved me, y/n." mike is extra serious now, and you're opening yourself back up to him when you feel his finger skim the underside of your chin. "i was headed down a dark path before you divinely intervened, and i intend to spend every single one of my remaining waking moments showing you how grateful i am for that."

"oh, mike..." you dissolve his sugary musings with a long, heated kiss, punctuated with soft moans and sharp inhales of feverish air. your three cups of wine have finally hit you, and the alcohol-induced buzz in tandem with mike's words have you itching to ask him to finally fuck you on the table after everyone's been dismissed. "i love you so much. what's the timeframe for the expansion?"

"if everything keeps going smoothly, li and i leave in four months."

your stomach gurgles with nausea at the nickname; you hate how easily it rolls off of his tongue, and hearing it has you pulling away from him in distaste. you lift yourself from your perch on his lap, awkwardly settling yourself back in your own chair. "are there any more drinks?"

"y/n," mike presses dispiritedly, gazing at your profile with somber eyes. you keep your stare towards the attendant, who rushes over with a opened bottle of champagne you couldn't even begin to pronounce. she makes moves to pour it into your empty glass, but you withdraw the bottle from her hands, thanking her as you take a long, ill-mannered, anxiety-ridden gulp from the opening.

champagne is pretty fucking gross, you think, but you're not doing this for the taste. her image had disintegrated from your mind, but it haunts you again now; how could she, of all people, really get to fuck your boyfriend domestically and internationally?

mike snatches the bottle from you after a moment, eyebrows set into a deep furrow as he observes you sloppily wipe at your wet lips with your fingers. "did i say something wrong?"

"you just seem to love working with amelie," you bark, instantly sighing at your testiness. things are doubling in your vision from your foolish attempt to chug champagne in order to feel anything other than inferiority, but it's no excuse to self-sabotage what you've been given. after pouring out his entire heart to you, promising you a future of possibility and ease, you're internally strangling yourself for being so rude. "i'm sorry. i know it's not like that, i just---"

"baby, we're the whole reason why ES is even getting this opportunity. they were nearly bankrupt before li and i got there, and over this last decade, we've worked so hard to build it to what it is now. we get millions of views, bring thousands of subs daily, and make them so much mone---

"okay, yeah, but there are just so many other people for you to work with," you pout, and you hate the pity that swims in mike's eyes as he peers at you. you feel like a baby, not a mid-twenty-something merely wrestling with feelings of inadequacy because of your boyfriend's (beautiful, seductive, cunning) coworker, though these feel equivalent in your swampy mind. "what about that girl who pegged you in that one video you know i like, or that person from the glory hole video? people lovedddd you two together."

"y/n," mike's firm tone ceases your whining, and you want to cry all over again for being you. "we are celebrating one year together tonight. right now is no time for you to be thinking about li, okay? she's my coworker and she's my friend, nothing more. you trust me, don't you?"

even though mike's persistent use of her nickname chips at your heart like marble, you work to use logic and fact to calm yourself down.

he'd made so many videos since you'd been officially committed, and none of them, even the ones he filmed with amelie, had stopped him from sweeping you up in affection-heavy hugs, complete with annoyingly romantic squeals and soft kisses peppered all over your face and neck every time he saw you after production. mike was yours, yet the thought was often overridden with thoughts of him being ripped away from you, amelie paying you a deft wink as she took him to worlds that they'd created together; worlds that you had no idea about, considering their decade-long friendship.

what was up with you?

"y/n," you jolt as you feel mike's hand softly come down on your cheek, causing your eyes to cut back to him. you burn in embarrassment for the billionth time in your life, sighing. "use your words. do you trust me?"

"yes, mike," you mutter, forcing the words out. you did trust him. you always had, and you knew you could. he'd never given you any firm reason not to, and you had to trust that he never would. "i trust you wholeheartedly."

he pats your face now, pairing his smirk with a lustful gleam in his eyes that you catch immediately. "good girl. you have nothing to worry about, i promise. now," he holds his hand out for you, coming in close to graze his lips over your ear. "how about we go to the room and unwind, hm?"

you're nodding without a second thought, sheepishly thanking the musicians and attendant for all of their hard work as they pack up and mike helps you to your feet.

he's blowing out the candles and hitting a switch to turn off the pergola lights when you squeak, "wait mike, the cake! we didn't get to eat it because of me."

you frown, and mike tugs you into his body, pressing his lips against your forehead and murmuring, "it's okay. there's plenty left," his mouth coasts against your neck, light kisses fluttering against your jaw as he propositions, "we'll eat some in bed after i eat you, yeah?"

for once, you and your mind are on the same page.

cutiessss but also uh oh, uh oh trouble in paradise? i guess we'll just have to wait and see, hm? let me know what you think!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3 #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #faire is writing stuff #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt angst #faire says #the tides are changing #everyone has secrets 🤫

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talewrites · 1 month

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Fragile Part 4

Remember Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle? Well, that’s you this chapter :]

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, wholesome, lots of cleaning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“You IDIOTS!” A crash resounded in the room as Stockman knocked over a table full of metal tools. “How could you let go the ONE MUTANT that survived all the testing phases!” Another crash as beakers and chemicals were knocked off a table. “I never should have left you FOOLS in charge of guarding the lab. This could set us back months of progress. If we don’t find that girl, Karai will have my head!”

With an angry huff Stockman fell into his dusty office chair and spun over to his computer. He was working on updating all the computer systems there in the old Sacks building. He had joined the Foot in taking up residence there since you had compromised their position at the warehouse laboratory by the docks. They couldn’t risk a raid from the turtles and losing all his research. This location wasn’t the most inconspicuous considering its history, but since the Shredder’s initial defeat at the hands of the turtles and April, the building had been deemed unstable and labeled condemned. Since it was difficult to dismantle such a large skyscraper in the middle of the city, it had been mostly left unoccupied for the past several years. Making it the ideal base for Foot activity.

As he was sorting through old records on the computer, he came across an interesting clip in the archived surveillance videos.

“Hmm…. interesting…. Yes, if I do that- yes…. YES! This will work nicely.” Stockman chuckled darkly to himself as he got up from his chair. Bebop and Rocksteady shared a confused look and shrugged, not understanding the sudden change in the scientist’s mood.

“Uuuuuh, hey boss, so what are we going to do about them?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. …. yet.” Baxter’s dark chuckle echoed as he disappeared down the hallway.

It has been 2 weeks since you met the turtles.

Initially, April had brought you a duffle bag full of comfy clothes a little bit too big for you, and some essential toiletries. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot shower with conditioner and soft sweatpants to put on after. Leo’s bed was warm and clean, Michelangelo cooked you delicious comfort food, and Donatello downloaded all of your favorite movies and shows you had missed. Raph one night had even knit you a cozy cardigan. The boys were all making an effort to make you feel more comfortable. But you couldn’t help but notice the reason.

You were still scared.

Every night you woke to terrible nightmares. And every day you felt like you were still walking on broken glass. Startling at any sudden sound or slightest touch. You noticed how Leo looked at you with pity, and Mikey wore a faltering smile. Donnie kept busy working on tracking the Foot, aside from regularly changing your bandages, and Raph- Raph just tried to keep his distance.

You didn’t blame them. You were a stranger in their home. You were finally in a safe place, but it was like your body was still in survival mode. High strung and anxious. You wanted to do something for them. Anything, to repay them and make yourself feel useful. A distraction.

Master Splinter had on many occasions noticed your stressed and mousy demeanor. He felt the unease in their home and the distance his sons kept with their new ward. Like neither party knew how to find common ground.

One night, he requested you join him in his meditation room for tea. You obliged.

“I sense your unease.” He stated casually.

You hesitated, then nodded. You didn’t know how to respond.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. For so long, you lived every day, not knowing if it would be your last. You lost your autonomy, your freedom. And yet you escaped all on your own. You are very brave.”

“….Thank you. I just wish I could feel that way. I feel so… scared. Like I’ll wake up back in that lab again and all of this would have been a dream. I… I don’t know what to do with myself.” You fussed with the teacup in your hands.

Splinter reached across the table and offered you his hand as a comfort. You took it gently and sighed.

“It will take time before you begin to feel like yourself again. My boys can be a little… reserved at times. It is not often we get to interact with friendly humans. Trust me when I say, they also wish for your comfort and safety. It just may take some time for them to get used to another presence in our home. In the meantime, perhaps there is something you can do that will make you feel more at home?”

You were surprised by his suggestion. They had already offered their home up to you, you wouldn’t dare ask anything more of them. But maybe…

“….a-actually… there might be something. If I could have your permission of course.”

Splinter smiled at you.

Once your injuries had fully healed, Splinter had called upon April and Casey’s help to assist you. There was some materials you needed of course, and Mikey was let in on the big secret. You felt guilty roping in so many people just to help you feel more comfortable, but there was something you wanted to do for them, as a thank you for taking you in. April seemed ecstatic at the proposition and was eager to bring you the supplies. Casey just seemed confused that this was something you wanted to do of your own free will. And Mikey- well, he was just excited to share a hobby with you.

The cooking part, that is. Not the cleaning.

Ever since you had been brought down to the lair for safe keeping, you had noticed one glaringly obvious thing. This was a man cave in every sense of the word. The lair was terribly dirty. Dust and grime everywhere. The only clean places you noticed were the dojo, Leo’s room, and Master Splinter’s quarters. You understood that they were all living in a sewer, and they had clearly made a bit of an effort to keep it clean. But you were through avoiding sticky spots on the floor and sitting on a dirty couch.

First things first: Donnie’s dirty coffee mug hoard. The purple turtle was currently napping in his room after an all nighter doing surveillance in coordination with the police, so now was the perfect time to clean up his station. You were extremely grateful to April for including a pair of rubber gloves in the bags of cleaning supplies she brought for you. Mikey helped you collect all the mugs and bring them to the sink, where he was in charge of washing them while you cleaned off all of Donnie’s work tables where he tinkered. You were careful not to move any projects, but wiped it clean of all its dust and stains. Then carefully sanitized all his keyboards and mouse, cleaned all of the monitors (yes all of them), and swept away the crumbs on the floor around his chair.

Once that was complete, you moved on to the living room. Leo was currently preoccupied meditating with Master Splinter in the dojo, so no one was around to notice you swoop in and descend on the couch. Thankfully the boys no longer had a couch made of empty pizza boxes, and had upgraded to a large sectional that Casey had found them used for cheap up top. You were certain that the couch covers had never been washed since it was brought down to the sewers. You were doubly certain that the boys probably didn’t even know the cushion covers could be removed and washed. You threw the covers into the washing machine on hot water with a healthy amount of soap. Mikey then helped you move the couch so you could clean the floor underneath, and smashed the cockroach that had scrambled out from underneath. The coffee table was wiped down, the rug was taken to a railing to be hung and the dust beat out by Mikey with his nunchucks, and the floor mopped clean.

Next was the workout room. Raph had just finished his exercise and left for the bathroom to take a shower, so you rushed in and started cleaning off every dusty and grimy sweat covered surface you could find. There was a musky scent of dirt and sweat permeating the room. All the dumbbells had a build up of grime from their sweaty hands using them for so many years. You also made sure to sanitize all of the mats and floors as well. By the time you were finished, Raph was leaving the shower and went to his room. You hid so he wouldn’t notice you as he passed by, unassuming. Then you were left with the big task.

The bathroom.

You were certain if there was a soundtrack playing in the background, dramatic horror music would be playing. You rolled up your sleeves and went in. Toilets, showers, sinks, and the massive bathtub, all scrubbed down with an unholy amount of bleach until every tiled surface shined. By the time you were finished, Mikey had come in to tell you he was ready to start on the kitchen. That was Mikey’s domain.

You were grateful that all the dishes were already clean by the time you entered the kitchen. But Mikey needed your help when it came to the cupboards and fridge.

“Mikey? ….Why do you have 3 year old expired sour cream in the fridge?”

“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘sour’? It still looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mikey there is black mold growing in it.”

“Oh, so…. That’s not pepper then.”

By the time you had finished clearing out the fridge and cupboards of everything expired or moldy, you had filled 3 trash bags full of garbage. Mikey helpfully took out the trash while you cleaned and organized the fridge and cupboards, and wiped down all the surfaces. By the time Mikey returned, you were rifling through the brown paper bag April got you full of ingredients and spices you had requested.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Mikey cheerfully greeted you as he rejoined you in the now clean kitchen.

“Well… if I remember the recipe correctly, I want to make the dish my mom always made for me…”

Mikey looked at you surprised for a moment, then excitement overtook him. “Cool! Can I help?”

You perked up at the suggestion. “Will you? I’d,… I’d love that, thank you!” Your expression melted into a warm smile, and Mikey felt his heart skip a beat.

You looked so pretty when you smiled, he thought to himself.

He wanted to see you smile more, just like that.

You both washed your hands and got to work. On the freshly clean kitchen counter, you had Mikey kneed cold butter into flour to make a dough, while you cut vegetables and cooked chicken on the stove. By the time Mikey was ready with the dough, there were 6 pie tins lined up to add the crust. The oven dinged and the base crust went in to brown while you stirred a large pot on the stove. Then you took out the pies and added the filling, and covered the tops with more dough. You were surprised at how large their oven was, but they were 4 giant mutant turtles and a rat. You had no doubt that each of the boys would eat a whole pie themself. The extra 2 were for Splinter, you, April, and Casey, who would be joining everyone later.

Once the oven door closed, Mikey turned up the radio that had been quietly humming tunes in the background as a fun song you hadn’t heard before played through the speakers. (‘Bad idea right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing.) Mikey’s head started bobbing and he grabbed the wooden spoon you had been stirring with and began mouthing the words into it like a microphone. You giggled at his antics as he pointed a green finger at you and beckoned you out into the open of the room. You felt drawn to join him as the pop song got your head bobbing to the beat. You felt a feeling well up in your chest as the chorus started building up. Excitement bubbling until the chorus peaked and your head bobbing turned into jumping around. Before you knew it, you were dancing around the living room with Mikey holding your hands and spinning you around. You lost yourself in the freeing feeling of the stress and anxiety getting washed away by the music. All the cleaning you had done was so stress relieving you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Little did you know, the music had drawn the attention of the other brothers. Leo and Master Splinter came out from their meditation to watch in the doorway, Leo smiled and crossed his arms as he looked at you. Raph came out freshly dressed and looked surprised but shared a look with Leo that made them smirk at you and their little brother’s antics. Then Donnie trudged out and leaned against his door frame and fixed his glasses to make sure he was in fact seeing you correctly.

You were smiling, laughing, and dancing.

“It seems as though we are seeing Miss (y/n) for the first time today.” Mused Splinter, the old rat brushing his beard.

Just then April and Casey walked in, carrying boxes they had brought down from up top.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” April asked putting down her box.

You were happily giggling as Mikey spun you around at the end of the song. April grinned, happily surprised at the scene. Casey walked in behind her and started looking around the lair like he was seeing it for the first time, setting his box down next to April’s. This prompted Leo, Raph, and Donnie to also take a better look around their home. They slowly all walked out into the living space, looking in all directions.

“.... Where did all my coffee cups go…?”

“Hm? Oh! They’re washed and in the cupboard!” You answered cheerily.

“.... Does…. Does the gym smell like oranges?” Raph said, baffled.

“.... Where did all the dust go? ….Does the couch look clean to you?” Leo nudged Donnie to bring his attention to the freshly washed couch covers.

There was a beat of heavy silence as the boys took in the new state of their home, then the timer above the oven dinged and you ran over to put on your oven mitts.

“The food’s ready!” You called out cheerfully.

In the next few minutes, everyone was sitting around the small kitchen table. Each turtle with a full pie in front of them, and large slices cut for Splinter, April, and Casey, and a smaller cut for yourself.

“Damn, what’s this? Smells great!” Casey exclaimed.

“My mom showed me how to make this, it’s chicken pot pie. I hope you like it!” You said a bit shyly now that you had calmed down a bit.

You watched as all the boys and April picked up a spoon and dug in, taking their first bite. There was a chorus of groans of approval as the boys hummed approvingly around their bite.

“Oh my god my mouth is singing!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to shovel the pie into his mouth.

“How did you manage to get this level of flakiness into the crust? Was there any special preparation when kneading the dough?” Donnie questioned. Then Mikey mumbled out around a full mouth, ‘cold butter, dude’ which Donnie had to ask him to repeat when his mouth wasn’t full.

“Wow… I’ve never had anything like this before. Did you make this?” Leo asked. Raph was grunting in approval with each new bite he took, absorbed in his food from across the table.

You blushed and nodded. It didn’t take long for everyone to clean their plates. Casey, Mikey, and Raph all fought for seconds. Master Splinter and April were sharing very pleased looks on their faces, like they were conspiring all along. Once everyone was finished, you stood up and started to collect plates from the table.

“Oooooh no, you did enough cleaning today, let someone else take a turn, shortie.” Raph stood up to stop you.

“I don’t mind, really!” You urged, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into Mikey who was taking his own plate to the sink.

The plate dropped from his hand in surprise, and faster than anyone could react, your freehand shot out and grabbed the plate. There was a cracking sound and everyone froze to look at you. There you were, balancing 5 large heavy ceramic plates stacked in one hand, while your other hand was holding onto Mikey’s plate that had cracked and fractured in your grip. You were stunned.

“Woah… what just happened?” Mikey broke the silence.

Part 5

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

#tmnt fanfic #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt imagines #bayverse donatello #bayverse raphael #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse leonardo #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse!tmnt

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frenchkisstheabyss · 9 months

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♡ 𝖇𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖎'𝖒 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 ♡

♡ Pairing: vampire!bang chan x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: When playing with devils you must be careful not to become one yourself. Unless, of course, you want to...

♡ Genre: smut/angst w/ horror elements

♡ Word Count: 1.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: blood, biting, discussion of violence/death, unprotected sex (the man's literally dead though so, like...), reader death (only on a technicality. you're fine)

Limbs scattered through garbage-riddled alleys. Intestines strung from archways like streamers for some grand party. Bodies drained of blood. Husks of what they once were. Unrecognizable to even those closest to them.

What kind of monster could do such a thing? Despite the police department’s best efforts, the culprit that terrorizes the city, snatching victims in the darkest crevices of the night, remains a mystery to them. To everyone. Everyone, that is, but you.

You know for a fact that the shadow looming at the end of your bed, this creature masquerading as a man, is responsible for these atrocities and, with the exception of a few unfortunate souls, he carries little remorse about what he’s done.

Chan honors your request not to hear the gory details of what he does but it’s difficult to escape them. It’s all over the news and social media. Your coworkers won’t shut up about it. It’s enough to make you sick to your stomach. Enough to make you never want to lay eyes on him again.

But when he appears in your apartment tonight, the same as he has countless nights before, his eyes shimmering pools of black, he awakens something inside of you that makes your knowledge of what he’s done as hazy as a bad dream. You watch as he steps into the soft light cast through your window by the full moon.

Chan’s breathtakingly handsome, gifted with a body built for sin and bone structure to die for. It’s almost as if his maker crafted him for the express purpose of getting you to compromise your mortal soul. Chan laughs, cracking a devilish grin, “It’s a little too late for that isn’t it, my love?” You crawl to the middle of the bed, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you.

“Too late for what?” He comes face to face with you, the razor-sharp tips of his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “The whole ‘compromising your mortal soul’ thing.” Chan pinches one of your fluffy cheeks, his full lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re damned. The same as me.” A chill blows through you, the kind that whistles through long abandoned caves, at the thought that he might be right.

You shake it off, nervously running your fingers across the intricate lacing at the breast of your sheer black nightgown. “We are nothing alike” you snap, “And stop reading my mind!” Chan backs away from you, discarding what’s left of his clothes, and, ignoring your wish for your thoughts to remain untouched, listens in on the filth that lurks in the back of your mind when you see how hard you’ve gotten him.

That is why you wore something see-through, isn’t it? To tempt him with your lush breasts and the stiffening buds at their peaks. You know how ravenous it makes him to have free access to the softness of your stomach. To see your pillowy thighs grow even thicker when you sit the way you do now.

You intended to send all of the blood rushing through the veins that travel along his thick, lengthy cock. Craved the sight of it, without even the most fleeting concern for whose blood it actually was. You blink and he’s behind you on the bed, his nails carefully shredding your nightgown to pieces.

The fabric melts down your body as smooth as butter. Chan takes your breasts into his hands, caressing them as he kisses your neck. “Tell me you want me to leave and I will.” Your head falls back on his shoulder, arms reaching back, fingers threading through his hair.

The coldness of his body battles the warmth of yours, a dynamic that has you sweating and shivering all at once. “Just say it,” he whispers, his right hand kneading your gentle form as he works his way down to your thighs, effortlessly parting them.

“You want my help?” he asks, lightly squeezing your clit between his pointer and index fingers, “Repeat after me.”

“I…”

“I…” you whine, gripping his hair tighter.

“Want…”

“You…”

“You...”

Chan dips his hand further between your thighs, muscles flexing beneath his skin as his fingers curve into you. “I want you” he hums, fangs pricking at your neck just enough to leave a mark without drawing blood. You repeat after him, word for word, “I want you. I want you. I want you.” The “to leave” is silent. Nonexistent.

You’ve considered many times asking him to leave before things went too far but you never had the strength, or the sincere longing, to do so. Chan can do so much more than read your mind. He can read your body like one would their favorite book. He knows that if he rotates his fingers just…like…this, it’ll tug at the most sensitive parts of you, making your pussy weep.

Chan plants kisses along your jawline, trailing up to your ear. “I want you too. Not just now,” he confesses, “Forever.” It’s a simple word, “forever”, but the emphasis placed upon it speaks volumes of his feelings for you. “Me too,” you say, not even thinking, only feeling. “I can make it that way, you know. I could…” The implication breaks you free of whatever spell you’re under.

You twist out of his arms, pulling the blanket over your naked body more for comfort than anything else. “Chan, you can’t be serious.” There’s that glint in his eye again, only this time it’s all his doing, the idea of turning you exciting him more than his last kill. “Why can’t I be serious?” he asks, climbing on top of you, his arms caging you in, “Tell me you've never thought of it.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t and, under the circumstances, it’s not even worth it to attempt to lie. At one point you harbored such a thirst for life but somewhere along the way, in a place that you can’t quite pinpoint, you lost it. Everything became dreary. Repetitive. Monotonous. Life lacked excitement. It lacked color. Nothing made you feel truly alive anymore.

Then came Chan. The spark that reignited the flame. You often wonder what it might be like to have the freedom that he does. The power. To have access to things far beyond the reach of humans. But what he does to those people you could never bring yourself to do. Chan slips the covers from between you, reuniting his body with yours. Bringing your legs around his waist, he brushes the tip of his cock between your folds.

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. You’re still so wet. Maybe wetter. “You’ll never have to” he promises, “ I’ll do it. All of it. Feed you. Care for you. I just, fuck, I want you more than anything.” Chan bucks his hips, sinking into you. You hiss at the stretch, your back arching as your walls swallow him deeper. It’s only been 24 hours since he last made love to you but it’s felt like a lifetime.

You wanted him….needed him…so badly. Each stroke is more intense than the last, satiating your thirst for more pressure each time he bottoms out. Your moans are as close to heaven as he’ll ever be. He kisses you passionately, capturing them with his tongue. This is the best you’ve felt all day. It’s the best you ever feel. Being in his arms, his lips pressed to yours, is indeed something you can never imagine losing.

“Will it hurt?”

Chan shakes his head, biting his lip as you clench tighter. “Never…mmm…hurt you.” “Then do it” you mewl, eyelids fluttering, defenses crumbling. The bed creaks as his thrusts quicken, the legs of the mahogany bedframe scratching at the floor. 200 years of lovers and no one’s even come close to feeling this good wrapped around his cock. You’re so vulnerable, so trusting, so fucking beautiful that he can’t waste another second not having secured you as his.

Baring his fangs, he sinks them into your neck. You gasp at the force of the impact but the bite itself merely tickles, undetectable when paired with the frenzy of butterflies in your stomach. Chan brings his wrist to his mouth, making a small incision with one of his fangs. Your lips part knowingly, suckling at the wound when he presents it to you. Blood coats your tongue, a crimson copper-laced treat running down your throat.

There’s something in it, something special, that strengthens the floral scent of your perfume. It’s overpowering. Dizzying. Everything’s louder. The cars zipping by on the streets. The sounds of grasshoppers and cicadas calling their mates in the neighboring park. Your vision sharpens, and corners of your room previously dominated by darkness are now bright as day.

And you feel. Oh, you feel everything. You’re in tune with every aspect of your nervous system. This level of awareness is mind-numbing but you don’t want it to stop. Your breath catches, your orgasm arriving with such ferocity that your nails slice into his skin. “That’s it” he coos, “You’re all mine now so come for me. Just for me.” He says it like you have an option.

Like there’s anything you can to do stop yourself from unraveling, the juices flowing from your core like a river. You scream louder than you ever have. The only discernible word is his name, said over and over until your body’s too spent to even say that. Chan kisses up and down your body, whispering to you in a language unknown to you before but somehow understood fluently now.

He’s praising you. Worshipping you. Swearing to honor your bond forever. To him, you’ve always been breathtakingly beautiful, gifted with a body built for sin and curves to die for. It’s almost as if your maker crafted you with the express purpose of tempting him to corrupt your mortal soul. What a sweet thing it was to destroy.

#bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan au #stray kids x you #stray kids smut #stray kids x thick reader #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids x y/n #chubby reader #stray kids vampire au

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radiant-reid · 1 year

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Christmas (Baby, please come home)

a/n: i did say i still have Christmas fics to write, so judge me if you want

Summary: Spencer's gone for Christmas, and you and the twins wish he wasn't.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (minor angst, major fluff)

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist | Navigation

Christmas Eve was a hot chocolate night. That was the tradition every year. Hot chocolate out of the house, a walk back home, bedtime, then Christmas morning.

This year, there's an extra step that they all wish wasn't there: Facetiming Spencer. And that's not a guarantee. It's scheduled, but there's no assurance about how long he can be on the phone.

It kills all of them, and the sacrifice sucks, but there aren't a lot of choices when the State Department calls. The deeply buried positive is that there's a year limit on how long he will be away, and only four months in, it seems impossible to do that two more times.

"Momma, look at the snow." Theo cheers, holding one hand up in the air while his other's wrapped around his hot chocolate.

The three of you are walking through the city on your way home, looking at all the fancy lights strung up around people's houses. It's gorgeous, but it can't be perfect without Spencer.

You nestle his hair. "Sorry, baby, it's a snow machine." You nod to the machine spurting out look-alike snow. "We're not going to get snow this year."

"Or daddy," Evie adds, pouting.

You wrap your arms around them, pulling their little bodies in for side hugs. "He'll be back soon." You promise, desperately hoping they believe it.

"Do you think he'll bring us a present?" Theo asks, grinning up at you.

Spencer will. If not for his guilt, then because he likes to spoil them. "Yup, what do you want?"

"Maybe..." He pauses to think about it. "Peanut butter."

"Peanut butter?" You repeat with a giggle, Evie joining in. "You'll have to ask him about that."

"I want food from wherever he is." She decides.

You frown at your picky eater who really doesn't like trying new foods and will order chicken nuggets from any menu anywhere. It's been a struggle to get her to try more than three of Rossi's pasta dishes. "I'm not sure you'd like it, E." You tell her. "And I'm not sure daddy's allowed to bring food back. We're going to have ham and turkey tomorrow, though."

It's going to be a lot of food, accompanied by stuffing, roasted potato and sweet potato, vegetables- that you'll have to bribe them to eat- and cranberry sauce. And that's not including dessert. There's brunch and dinner at Rossi's on boxing day as well, and he's never been on everyone bringing a plate.

"Remember when daddy set the oven mitt on fire last year?" Theo recalls, bursting into giggles with his sister. It was hilarious, Spencer's high pitch squeals as he threw the mitt in the sink and set off the smoke alarm.

"Remember that next time he asks who's the better cook." You remind them, anticipating Spencer would ask after Christmas to tease her.

Evie turns to look at you. "What's daddy going to have for Christmas dinner?"

You don't have an answer, but she's mostly asking for reassurance that he's okay. "Something really yum." You assure her. "You can ask when we call him."

That answer satisfies her enough for no more questions and saves you from having to explain anything more on his behalf. You can't resist taking a few photos of them on the way home, standing in the streets surrounded by Christmas lights, looking adorable in their coats.

"Okay, go put your pajamas on then we can call." You instruct them once you're back at home, taking their coats to hang up.

They scramble to get ready, excited to talk to Spencer. Everything about being home makes you miss him, like the display of framed pictures in the hallway, his shoes in the doorway, and his coat in the closet.

You clean up the living room a little, putting away all the toys that accumulate over the day. It's what you do when Spencer's working with the BAU since he's clumsy and likely to trip over blocks in the middle of the night.

The Christmas tree in the living room has lots of gifts under it, and their little Theodore and Evelyn stockings hang under the mantel, waiting for presents.

Then you make your way upstairs to their bedrooms just before 9:30, where they're waiting on Theo's bed. You sit next to them, holding out the phone so they'll be able to see him before you call him.

Cell reception in the desert, you anticipated and have discovered, is terrible, but for once, Spencer's face is clear on the screen. His background is blurred, as usual, safety concerns would mean you can't see what's behind him, but the timezone difference means it's dark.

"Hey, there are my favorite people in the world." He says, waving. His voice sounds different on the phone. You can't feel it either, like you're laying on his chest, and you miss that like you miss the rest of him.

"Daddy!" They cheer, pleased to see him.

"How are my sweet babies?" He asks with a wide smile.

They mirror it, and you don't think you'll ever get over the similarities between them. "Good," Theo answers.

"We had hot chocolate," Evie reports.

"With lots of marshmallows?" He checks. "And sprinkles."

Another similarity: sweet tooths. "And whipped cream," Evie tells him. "Did you have hot chocolate?"

"Not yet." He says.

"Can we have some when you're home?" Theo asks, looking between you and his dad.

You and Spencer nod in unison, and you avoid mentioning it could be 90 degrees and summer by the time he comes back. "Of course, bud." He answers. "All the hot chocolate you can drink."

He grins, pumping his fist in the air. "Yes!" He cheers. "I could drink a gallon."

"That might not be the best idea." You remind him, although the smile on his face is worth him thinking he can drink a sick-inducing amount of hot chocolate.

"Especially because we'll have marshmallows," Spencer adds. "We can have another Christmas dinner then, too."

"But mommy has to cook," Evie says.

Spencer chuckles, looking at you and shaking his head. "You wouldn't be poisoning young minds while I'm away, would you, Mrs. Reid?"

You shake your head. "Wouldn't dream of it, Doctor."

They talk for a little while longer before the twins can barely keep their eyes open, beyond tired from the late hour, their excitement reduced enough for them to be able to sleep.

As the new routine goes, Spencer wishes them goodnight while you tuck them in, giving them two kisses each, one from each of you. Then it's your turn to talk to him, and you're grateful you drank more coffee than you probably should have.

You sit on the couch instead of upstairs in bed since there's still some stocking stuffing to do. "What's the time where you are?" You ask.

You don't know exactly where he is or what he's doing it. It's the way you both prefer it because he's not in the middle of the desert half a world away to monitor the ecosystem.

"10pm in DC, so 5 am." He says.

You know he can't be getting a lot of sleep over there, and as much as you want to talk to him, you want him to rest when he has the rare opportunity. Getting up early does not help that.

"Don't worry, it's fine." He assures you, seeing your face change. "I can function on a few hours of sleep."

"How are you?" You ask. "Tell me about normal stuff, like the weather."

He laughs his adorable laugh. "Better than it was when I came." He tells you. "And it never rains. It's just hot and dry or less hot and dry."

"Thought you'd be used to that, desert boy." You tease his aversion to the warm weather.

"This might be a surprise, but I spend most of my summers inside where the aircon is." He corrects you.

"Here I was thinking you were outside playing basketball." You joke back. You can hear his laugh and see his smile, and things feel okay, but it'll end too soon like it always does. "I miss you." You tell him, and you feel bad about it.

At least you have two kids with you that are constant reminders of him. He's all alone, somewhere you don't even know, and he gets to talk to his family only a few times a week.

"I miss you, too, sweetheart." He says. "Can you switch this to a voice call?"

You pout, waving goodbye to him, but agree, placing the phone on your ear. "Now I don't get to see you." You complain about another situation that's worse for him.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes before adding an afterthought question. "Oh, did you get the package at the door?"

"No." You answer. "I would have seen it when we came in."

"I told them to drop it at the backdoor." He tells you. "Safety precautions and all that."

You get up off the couch, walking towards the location of your mystery package. "Please tell me you didn't add to the crazy Christmas delivery overload by buying me more gifts."

"Sort of." He says. "It's for all of you, though."

That gets the gears in your head turning about what it could be. "I hope it's a trampoline. They'd love it, but then you'd get on, and hurt your knee again."

"I got shot in the knee." He corrects you. "I could backflip."

You scoff, laughing. "That I would love to see. Or go-carts." You guess again, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder while you unlock the door and turn the door hand. "Oh, maybe tickets to an all-inclusive resort in the Bahamas."

What you're greeted with isn't plane tickets: it's the best gift you could imagine. "We can go to the Bahamas if you want." He says, out loud and through the phone.

Your first reaction is to drop your phone on the ground, not caring whether it shatters, and jump into your husband's arms which you haven't felt around you in a very hard, long one hundred and thirty-nine days.

Spencer still smells the same. His perfect cologne makes your house feel completely like home once again. Applying it to his pillow and hoodies for you to wear has not been enough.

He feels slightly more muscular than he used to in his arms and shoulders, and it's a welcomed change. He holds you there, tighter than he ever has before for so long that you stop counting. It satisfies what you've been craving.

He pulls his head back from your shoulder so he can kiss you while he hugs you. "I've missed you so much." You confess.

"We can say that in the past tense now." He says, kissing you once again. "We should go inside. You've got to be freezing."

You didn't realize until then that you went outside in jeans and a shirt, but you can't be cold when he's so warm. Spencer only keeps one arm around your shoulder when you step inside, carrying his bag in the other.

"I've missed this house." He says. "Everything about it."

"The unvacuumed floor?" You joke. "Or the toothpaste the twins spit on the mirror?"

"It's you and them and everything else in between." He assures you, putting his bag by the laundry as you move to the living room. "And I'm in time to be Santa." He cheers excitedly, noticing the stockings.

You nod, pulling him to the entryway. "They're in here." You say as you open the closet and take a trash bag full of gifts from the top shelf while Spencer takes off his shoes.

"Wow." He says when you hand him the heavy sack.

"I know." You nod. "I went a little crazy, but you weren't going to be here and I didn't even buy everything you suggested so..." When you turn back to look at him after closing the closet, he's just staring at you. "What?"

"I love you." He says like it's the most important thing ever.

You beam, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him again. "I love you."

"Let's stop being sappy in the hallway, we've got Christmases to make." He declares with a smirk.

"You're going to be making everyone's Christmas just by being here, Spence." You assure him, walking back into the lounge. "Oh, and the team! They'll be so excited to see you."

Spencer puts the bag down on the couch, pulling out gifts to put in the right stocking. It's always like no time has passed when he comes home, no awkward moments or getting back into routine.

"Are you hungry?" You question. "Thirsty? Are you too tired to be doing this?"

He shakes his head, smiling at you. "I'm good, sweetheart. I told you I can function on a few hours of sleep." He assures you. "Honestly, I've never been better."

"How'd you get back so early?" You wonder, sitting on the couch to watch him.

"I just heard I was leaving, so I got on the plane." He explains. "Oddly, they're not the most forthcoming government department."

You chuckle before answering the hard question. "Do you have to go back?"

And you get the answer you were hoping for as he shakes his head before adding more good news. "I don't have to go back to the BAU for a few months either."

That's more than enough of a Christmas gift for you. "They're going to be so happy when they wake up and you're here," You tell him.

"I'm so happy to be here." He says, finishing putting the last gift in Theo's stocking. "In time for Christmas, too."

"We're so lucky." You repeat, holding out your hands.

Spencer grabs your hands and pulls you up, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning in circles in the living room. "Bed?" He offers.

"Please." You beg. "I have been sleeping in the middle of the bed, though, so I might kick you."

Spencer laughs as he follows you upstairs, holding your hand. "Well, I'm looking forward to sleeping on a mattress without lumps in it."

Once you reach the top of the stairs, Spencer wraps his arm around your shoulder, and it's like you're taken right back to when you first started living together, and you wouldn't let go of each other for hours after he got home from a case.

"I have to kiss them goodnight." Spencer stills when you pass Theo's room.

You go back to holding his hand as he pushes the door open slowly to avoid waking him. He's tightly tucked up in bed still, sleeping peacefully, and Spencer brushes some curls off his forehead before kissing him softly.

"I love you, little man." He says before you tiptoe out, careful of the creaks in the floorboards. "Did he get bigger?" He asks once you're safe in the hallway.

"They both did. I think at least an inch." You report.

You go to Evie's room next, repeating the same routine of Spencer admiring her before kissing her forehead and sneaking out of the room again.

"I never want to lose that much time with them again." He confesses as you walk towards your bedroom.

You know it must have killed him to be away for so long, but he's here now and that's really what matters. "But you're our hero." You remind him.

He smiles at that. "How many of the clothes I left here have been worn?" He asks, suspiciously looking around the closet you ended up in to get pajamas.

"Oh, all your hoodies and t-shirts." You assure him. "The good news is that they all smell like me now."

He nods in agreement. "That is good news." He grabs a hoodie and some pajama bottoms, but before he changes, he notices you just watching him. "Did you... want a show?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I think we might need to save that for tomorrow night. What I'm doing is admiring you and making sure you're not injured."

"Promise." He says, and maybe you're misleading him by making it sound like it's a 50/50 split because there's a lot more admiring going on than checking injuries. "Satisfied?" He asks, smirking at your wandering eyes.

"So satisfied." You assure him, blushing a little. "Thanks for that."

"You're very welcome." He says. "Wanna go to bed now?"

"Yes." You agree, both of you finishing your bedtime routines before getting under the covers.

Spencer pulls you close immediately, cuddling you into his side. "Merry Christmas." He whispers, kissing you softly.

"Merry Christmas." You reply, wiggling even closer to him. It doesn't take you too long to fall asleep with the warm feeling that your family is all under one roof finally.

And it's not a dream.

In the morning he's there, kissing your forehead as he gets out of bed. You turn to look at the clock. "Spence, it's 6:30."

"Lucky it's not earlier." He jokes. "My internal close is messed up." "You better be getting me coffee." You tell him, holding out your finger as you rest your face against the pillow in an attempt to get another few seconds of sleep.

He brushes the hair off your shoulder, exposing it so he can kiss your skin. "Promise." He says.

You don't fall back asleep. You just grin at the ceiling until Spencer comes back in a few minutes later with coffee. You moan at the taste since he always makes it better than you do. "This is so good."

He gets back under the covers next to you and sips his own mug. "I've had nothing but instant coffee, not even drip coffee."

"So how long do you think we have until two little people bust open the door?" You wonder.

"Two minutes." He estimates, and you raise your eyebrows, knowing the one way he could know that. "Okay, fine. I did go into their rooms to shake them." He confesses.

You laugh, shaking your head. It's an old trick of his to get them up. "You're terrible."

"I want to see my little babies." He sulks, pouting playfully. "Plus, they've had nearly nine hours of sleep."

The pitter-patter of tiny feet starts in the hallway when Spencer suggested it would, and you both put your coffees down in anticipation.

"Mommy, it's Christmas," Theo reports, tapping on your door.

"Come in." You instruct. "I've got an amazing surprise."

Spencer scoffs next to you. "Only amazing?"

There's no chance for you to provide another adjective before 2 five-year-olds race in, jumping onto the bed without looking at who's next to you. The realization sets in on their faces after a millisecond, and their eyes grow wide before the high-pitch squeals start as they launch at him.

He grabs both of them, one in each arm as he holds them tight to his chest. "Hi, sweet angels." He says, kissing their foreheads.

"I missed you." They both tell him.

"I missed you both more." He assures them.

Evie pulls back to eye him suspiciously. "How did you get here?" She asks.

Spencer smoothes a hand through her hair. "On a plane." He tells her. "I couldn't miss Christmas."

"Now this is the best Christmas ever," Theo says, assuming up how you're all feeling.

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demetris-cocksleeve · 1 year

Note

Hello darling,

I was listening to kingdom dance (movie tangled.) And it's where rapunzel drags Flinn for a dance in the middle of the town and people join and it's fun.

I wanted to request a poly!volturi kings x reader where she drags marcus into the middle of the plazza (where the fountain is in the movie) and starts dancing like royals and people just think reader is so beautiful that they join. And aro and caius are just in shock

(A/n: I know you just asked for Marcus, but I got carried away😅)

(As usual, anything in Italian was run through google translate)

(Amore mio bella=my beautiful love)

Word Count: 434

Summary: You love to dance, and your boys love seeing you dance.

Warnings: None

Age Rating: None

Kingdom Dance: Volturi Kings x Fem! Reader

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

You dragged the kings out from their crypts to go to the festival with you since you wanted to do a last-minute shopping spree and see all the displays and lights the city had set up.

There were fairy lights strung from booths and vendor stalls all around, people calling out to each other to show cool items they found, salesmen and women calling out to patrons about their handmade products or this rare incense from the heart of India, and, best of all, a live band.

The notes of folksong after folksong flow through the closed off roads, filling everyone with enough joy that some people had even started to dance. You leaned against the wall of a building as you watched a group of children attempt to get -who you can only assum- their mother to dance with them, giggling when she finally gives in, taking the littlest ones' hands and twirling them around.

Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you look to see Marcus offering his hand.

"May I have this dance, amore mio bella?"

"You may," you beam, placing your hand in his.

Just as the two of you step into the group dancers, it changes to an upbeat, flute-heavy song. You bow to each other before coming together once again.

Following each other's steps, you gracefully travel through the crowd. You can't help the smile that overtakes your features as you're twirled and then spun back into your mate's arms. He guides you through a few more steps before passing you off to someone else.

Looking up, you're met with the gleaming eyes of another of your mates.

Aro takes one hand in his as you take one step back from each other before meeting in the middle once more. One of his arms wraps around your back as you step to each other's side, shoulders meeting as you keep eye contact. He spins both of you through the mass of bodies, everyone smiling and laughing as they let themselves go to the music.

Just as the song reaches its crescendo, you're passed off yet again. This time ending up in your blonde lover's arms, a rare smile on his face as he presses a kiss to your knuckles before bringing you to his chest. He steps back just as quickly to twirl you, repeating the action to the other side as you laugh the lights bathing you both in an almost heavenly glow.

Just as the song ends, Caius takes your jaw in his hand in a rare display of gentleness and pulls you into a soft kiss.

#caius volturi x reader #marcus volturi x reader #aro volturi x reader #volturi kings #twilight fluff

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vulpes-fennec · 1 year

Text

@elainweekofficial Day 2 🌱

Elain loves to garden, so here's a moodboard of her garden at the River House! Read below the cut for an Elucien one-shot 🦔

Gardening required precision: the right soil composition, watering frequency, timing of planting, and placement. But it also required leniency, for the pollinators, animals, and weather systems that played a role were out of Elain’s control.

Which was why Elain strung up bird baths and propped up old pots for toads. She left the spiders and praying mantises alone, even though they scared her. She suppressed the urge to tidy everything into neat arrangements, knowing that a little messiness was beneficial for the ecosystem.

Gardening had its fair share of physical work, too. Elain was not a warrior like Feyre or Nesta, but she still flexed her muscles by lugging the watering can around, yanking out weeds, digging up roots, and vanquishing the pests and plant illnesses.

Gardening was the satisfaction of watching the spring buds flower, of biting into the first summer harvest. But out of everything, experiencing warm sunshine on her skin was Elain’s favorite part of gardening.

It was shaping up to be a perfect day, she thought. Already Elain had changed the bird bath, refilled the bird feeder, turned the compost pile, pruned the bushes, and inspected the budding fruit trees. She was in the middle of harvesting a bundle of herbs for dinner when she heard distressed squeaking coming from around the bend.

“Oh no!” Elain cried when she spotted the source of the squeaks. A large hawk had a small creature clasped in its talons, and was taking flight. “Stop! Stop this right now!”

The animal squirmed its way out of the hawk’s grip and fell several feet to the ground, to Elain’s horror. She rushed over immediately, finding a small hedgehog dragging its hind foot as it struggled towards a brambly hedge.

“You poor thing!” Elain exclaimed. The hedgehog curled into a ball of brown and black spikes when she approached. Elain knelt down in the grass, cooing softly. “It’s alright little one. You’re safe with me.”

The hedgehog did not seem to think so. It let out another cry of terror when Elain gingerly touched it. She winced at the spines pricking her calloused palms. A quick glance revealed the hawk waiting patiently in the tree for its afternoon snack, its beady yellow eyes glaring at Elain.

“Go away!” she shouted up at it. “Don’t you dare come any closer!” She turned her attention back to the hedgehog, who was trembling in fear thanks to her raised voice.

“I didn’t mean you, little one,” Elain whispered softly, hunching over the hedgehog. “Please don’t be afraid. I only want to help you.” Bracing herself against the temporary pain, Elain gently scooped the curled hedgehog up and placed it into her straw hat.

Gravel crunched urgently behind her.

“My lady?” The emissary of the Night Court stood just a few yards away from her, looking like he’d been running. Lucien Vanserra. Her mate.

Elain stiffened. “What are you doing here?” The words came out sharper than she’d intended, and she regretted using them as her first line of greeting.

Lucien’s flaming red hair glinted in the sun like molten ore, his russet eye studying her carefully. The scar cutting down his face only drew attention to his angular features. It had been several weeks since Elain saw him last, and every time he reappeared in her life, his handsome face seemed to grow begrudgingly more attractive. “I came to hand deliver an invitation for Queen Vassa’s coronation,” he replied. “To Feyre and Rhysand, but it seems they’re nowhere to be found.”

“They’re at the Hewn City.” Elain’s words were a frank dismissal to her ears. She winced.

Lucien’s mouth tightened. “Well, I heard you shouting at something so forgive me for making sure you were alright.”

I don’t need your protection, Elain wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut. Her good manners always eluded her whenever she saw Lucien Vanserra.

“I’m fine. It’s just a hedgehog with an injured foot. I’ll have to send for Madja tomorrow morning.”

“Broken limbs should be set and healed as soon as possible. Waiting until morning may be too late.” Lucien frowned slightly. “I can try to help.”

“You’re not an animal healer,” she objected.

“No, but I did fix your sister’s broken nose under the mountain.” Lucien’s good eye flickered with the faint memory of the traumatic hellhole.

I don’t need your help, Elain wanted to say, but the hedgehog’s shrill vocalizations begged to differ. “Alright,” she admitted. “We can go to the greenhouse.”

The creature was shaking like a leaf when Elain set the hat down on the surface of the greenhouse work table. The surface was littered with gardening notes and bottled tonics. A cupboard, filled with seeds and dried flowers stood opposite a shelf of gardening tools. And every other available space was filled with plants.

The greenhouse was sizable, but the space felt small and hot the moment Lucien stepped over the threshold. He stood silently in the doorway, golden eye clicking and whirring at the haphazard interior.

She had gauze and healing salves…but perhaps ointments that worked on the Fae would be toxic for animals. The enchanted gloves Lucien gifted her were carefully tucked in a box. Elain had barely used them, only taking them out occasionally to admire its make. But perhaps it was time to put away that stubborn pride…Elain glanced over her shoulder furtively at her mate.

“Hello, aren’t you a cute little thing?” Lucien greeted the hedgehog as he bent down until he was eye level with the table. “My name is Lucien, Night Court’s emissary.”

He extended a tanned brown hand towards the creature. The hedgehog peeked out at the emissary, unfurling itself to sniff his fingers with its pointed nose. “That’s right, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“What do we do?” Elain approached the table anxiously.

Surprise flitted across Lucien’s face at the sight of her gloved hands. “If you could sit and hold the hedgehog so I can see the leg…”

“It’s me, Elain,” she cooed to it, extending her hand just as Lucien did. “I’m going to have to pick you up now.” The hedgehog shrank away, and Elain’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“You can do it,” Lucien said encouragingly. “I’m talking to the hedgehog, but I suppose it applies to you as well.”

“Why does it like you more than me?” Elain demanded indignantly.

Lucien’s grin was positively smug. “Hedgehogs were quite prevalent in the Autumn Court. They thought quite highly of me.”

Elain rolled her eyes at him. “Come on now. Up onto my hand we go. You’ve seen me around the garden, haven’t you? I’m not a stranger.” The hedgehog reluctantly limped onto her outstretched hand. “Good job, little one!”

Elain’s heart pounded anxiously as she settled on the chair, for the creature seemed so frail and small. The hedgehog scrunched up its small face, crying out as she shifted it onto its back. Elain gasped when she noticed several red lacerations on its furred underbelly. “Cauldron, it’s worse than I thought,” she fretted. “And I think it’s a female.”

“Hmmm, you’re right.” Lucien murmured as the hedgehog made more high-pitched whimpering sounds. “Shhh, it’s alright, sweetheart. Let me take a look.” Heat shimmered in the air between them as Lucien knelt in between her legs and leaned closer.

“If you want to give him a bite, you have my permission,” Elain added. As cute as it was, hedgehogs were still wild animals. And she didn’t know if they were aggressive when threatened.

“I don’t have a problem with biting.” Elain’s blood ran hot when Lucien looked up at her with a humorous glint in both eyes. She quickly looked away. How can I be thinking improper thoughts about him when this poor hedgehog is practically dying in my lap?

Golden light shimmered as the cuts on the hedgehog’s soft belly melded together and disappeared. Elain sucked a breath in, fascinated. But the happy moment was short-lived.

Lucien’s fingers gently probed the crooked foot, eliciting a plaintive screech from the hedgehog. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Regret laced in his russet eye.

Elain felt like crying herself at the hedgehog’s distress. “Oh, Lucien. Please hurry! It seems to be in so much pain!”

His face was grim. “I need to make sure it’s set in the proper position before I heal it. But it’s going to hurt her,” he explained.

Elain hoisted the hedgehog up so that it leaned against her chest, praying her heartbeat would calm it down. “He’s trying to help you,” she whispered to it. “Please hold on just a little longer. Everything will be alright.”

“It’s going to be alright, munchkin,” Lucien’s low voice soothed. He tilted his head left and right, as if assessing the proper positioning for a hedgehog foot. “You’ve been such a brave girl. Are you going to be the bravest little hedgehog in Velaris?”

Golden webbing—a spell—was woven along the hedgehog’s ankle, bracing it in the proper position. The hedgehog screeched. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lucien murmured.

“Oh, when this is over, I’ll build you a little hedgehog house,” Elain added, trying to keep the hedgehog’s attention on her face. “I’ll make sure you have plenty of treats. We can invite some hedgehog friends over, alright? Don’t think about your foot, darling.”

A flash of light burst from Lucien’s hand and a final terrified squeak pierced the air. The hedgehog writhed in agony briefly, shivering and whimpering. “Oh gods, oh gods,” Elain gasped. “Is it alright? What happened?”

“I think so. Put it on the table and see,” Lucien said gently. The hedgehog was indeed back to normal, ambling around on all four legs and making snuffling sounds.

“It worked. It really worked!” Elain smiled broadly, her heart swelling with relief and joy. “Thank you for helping, Lucien.” Before she could stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Realizing what she’d done, Elain disentangled herself from him sheepishly.

Lucien shrugged as he stood up. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” He paused. “Did you really mean it? Everything you said to the hedgehog? About building a whole house and bringing more of its kind over?”

“Yes?” Her mate appraised her with a small smile on his lips that stripped Elain bare. Did he think she was being childish? “And what about it?” Elain demanded hotly.

“It’s refreshing.” Lucien glanced over his shoulder on the way out of the greenhouse. “The way you care for a small hedgehog, when you treated it gently…it gives me hope for this world.”

You too, Elain wanted to say. But her mate had already winnowed away without saying goodbye. Meanwhile, the hedgehog was sniffling at a gold-embossed envelope on the worktable. The invitation to Queen Vassa’s coronation had indeed been delivered.

#elainweekofficial #elain archeron #elucien

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spine-buster · 1 year

Text

Lost in the Memory | Ryan O'Reilly | Volume III

gif credit @/heddy

A/N: This is just porn, basically.

“It’s gonna be good to be fuckin’ home, I can tell you that much.”

A delay at the airport meant that Ryan and the boys didn’t land in Toronto until the middle of the night. Factoring in the drive from the airport to Summerhill, he didn’t walk through the door until almost 2:30 in the morning. He walked in to the low hum of the TV, an old episode of Law and Order: SVU playing. Whitney was asleep on the couch, clearly having tried to wait up for him, but failing. She looked cozy under the blanket, and so peaceful that Ryan almost didn’t want to disturb her.

Though he had been living in the house since being traded, for what felt like the first time since he moved, he took a long look around the main floor. It had been Whitney’s and Whitney’s alone for the past ten days. Truthfully, it had been Whitney’s and Whitney’s alone since he bought it for her. When he bought it, he did so because when he and Whitney saw it, she fell in love with it. It reminded her of the house she grew up in, just that it was in a city, and Ryan wanted her to have it. During the restoration and renovation, and over the years, she had truly put her mark on it. Her stamp was everywhere, and that’s what he loved most about it. It was a home for her, and it was a home for him, too, because wherever Whitney was, was home.

Ryan bent down so he could be near eye contact with her, taking in her features. Her beautiful long lashes she’d had since they were kids. The littlest scar on her chin from when Owen accidentally hit her with a ministick. Her perfectly shaped lips he loved to kiss whenever he could. Her long, beautiful hair he loved to run his hands through. He did just that, as softly as he could, to wake her up. “Whitney…sweetness…” he cooed. She didn’t wake up at first. “Sweetness…” he was slightly louder.

Her eyes fluttered open, looking almost in disbelief that he was in front of her. “Snook…” she mumbled.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said.

“I tried to stay up, Snook—”

“—Don’t apologize, sweetness. It’s okay. Let’s just go to bed. C’mon,” he said, grabbing at her arms and wrapping them around his neck. He proceeded to pick her up bridal style and carry her up the stairs to her bedroom. Their bedroom.

Whitney was smart and had already changed into her pajamas. After he laid her in bed, Ryan stripped out of his clothes quickly, leaving only his boxers on before her crawled into bed and pulled the sheets and comforter over their bodies. “D’you want me to make you some French toast tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“Shhhhhh,” he cooed, snuggling up behind her as the big spoon. She had work tomorrow, so he didn’t even know why she was offering. Well, that was a lie…he did know: because she was Whitney. And they always looked after one another. But he wasn’t going to be that person – waking her up at 2am only to agree for her to wake up early to make him breakfast. What was he, a chauvinist? “Go to sleep, sweetness. Don’t worry about tomorrow morning.”

He heard a little sigh leave her. “I’m so happy you’re finally home, Snook.”

“Me too. Me too.”

***

When Whitney got home from work that Monday, Ryan was making dinner. She walked into the house smelling like homemade chicken soup, which she loved. It reminded her of growing up. And though she was grown up now, she was always nostalgic for her past; she thought most people were, especially if they enjoyed their childhoods.

“Welcome home,” Ryan was already looking over his shoulder at her as she made her way into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “Damn Snook, I could get used to this.”

He smiled. “Smells good?”

“When you’re my husband I hope the house smells like this all the time.”

Whitney didn’t realize exactly which words were leaving her mouth when she opened it. But when they finally came out, she couldn’t believe her mind strung the sentence together. It was as if her innermost thoughts were starting to overpower her conscience. She watched as Ryan chuckled slightly. “I have some good news,” he immediately changed the subject.

Whitney gulped, pushing everything down. “What’s that?”

“I get my cast off soon,” he revealed.

Whitney smiled wide. “You can finally put that hand back to good use.”

“You mean, like, by scoring goals?”

“Obviously. It’s not like it’s useful for much else.”

Whitney yelped as Ryan grabbed hold of her and pulled her towards his body, wrapping his arms around her midsection so she couldn’t escape. “You take that back right now,” he grumbled playfully. “These hands have probably done more to pleasure you than your own hands.”

“You severely underestimate how I often I masturbate to the thought of you fucking me,” she kept playing her game.

“You’re a sexual deviant.”

“You started it,” she winked.

Ryan peppered her face with kisses. “I’m so happy to be home with you, sweetness. How was work?”

I’d rather be taking care of our kids right now. “It was fine. Same old. Can we cuddle on the couch tonight while watching episodes of SVU?”

Ryan smiled. “I don’t want to do anything else.”

After eating their chicken soup and cleaning up the kitchen, Ryan queued up episodes of Law and Order while Whitney washed her makeup off and changed into something more comfortable. When she emerged from the bedroom, Ryan was already on the couch and ready with a blanket. She was wearing a pair of bike shorts and one of Ryan’s newest Leafs workout shirts. While it was no doubt big on her, it was tight around her chest, making it very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra and very obvious she’d appreciate the warmth of his body and the blanket. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed dramatically when he saw her. Without even trying, she was so incredibly sexy to him.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded. “C’mere, sweetness,” he opened up the blanket, allowing her to crawl in and snuggle up next to him, draping her legs over his. After placing one of his hands in between her thighs, he pressed play.

It was about halfway through the first episode they watched that Ryan’s hand began massaging between Whitney’s thighs. She didn’t think much of it – he massaged her thighs all the time when they were cuddling like this – but then ever so slowly it began to move up. By the time the second episode started, his hand was right near her core. She looked over at him at one point, a small smile playing on her face. “You can put your hand down my shorts, Snook. It’s been ten years – you don’t have to ask for permission.”

“Yes I do,” he said quickly, moving his hand quickly so it slipped underneath the waistband of her shorts and back down to between her thighs. He cupped her core briefly before his fingers played with her lips. Slowly. Painstakingly slowly. As they watched the next episode, he teased her pussy much longer than Whitney was anticipating, though she wasn’t complaining. Eventually, she almost couldn’t focus between her hero Olivia Benson and what Ryan was doing. She’d close her eyes to focus on the feeling, then open them to focus on the show, rotating back and forth.

“Snook?”

“Sweetness?”

“You coming to Toronto was the best thing to ever happen,” she sighed out, her eyes closed.

He giggled at her words. “Oh yeah?”

She let out another sign. “Can we…” she began before trailing off.

“Tell me sweetness. What do you want?”

“D’you remember when I came to visit you in St. Louis the first time after you won the Cup and we—we were cuddling on your couch watching TV and we—we—”

“Lie down,” he whispered, knowing exactly what she was referencing. “Get comfortable, sweetness.”

His hand left her hot core as she lay down on the couch how she wanted. Ryan got right behind her, his body flush against hers, mimicking every curve before he pulled his sweatpants down to free his cock. He stroked himself quickly a few times before pulling her shorts down enough that he could slip his cock between her thighs and slowly into her core to cockwarm. Whitney let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling, and Ryan could feel her body fully relax into his.

The sigh she let out was long and cathartic, as if all the strains and stresses of the day were released with it and she was finally at peace. “That feels so nice,” she whispered.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” he commented, combing some of her hair back with his fingers.

“I know. Does it feel nice for you too?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“You’re so good to me, Snook.”

Ryan kissed her temple before draping his arm over her body, queuing the next episode of SVU to start. They lay on the couch together in that position for at least two more episodes, making light conversation or commentary on the episode every so often. Every time she moved slightly, Whitney was reminded of how good it felt to have Ryan inside her so intimately, even if it wasn’t sexual. While she knew it was probably going to end with them making love eventually (at least it did last time), she truly valued just being like this with him.

While Benson and Stabler were trying to solve a case, Whitney could feel Ryan begin to slip his hand under her (his) shirt. His hand eventually cupped one of her breasts, taking his time to knead it softly before he began to pinch her nipple. Ryan could feel her chest rise and fall, little sighs escaping her. Then, he began to kiss the exposed skin between her neck and shoulders, and there were more little sighs coming out of her that he could feel made his cock harden. Eventually, neither were preoccupied with the crime Benson and Stabler were trying to solve; they were only preoccupied with each other.

“Snook?”

“Sweetness?”

“Make love to me, Snook. Nice and slow.”

Ryan peppered her exposed skin with more kisses before he began to move his hips so he could pump his cock in and out of her in their spooning position. He took it nice and slow, just like she wanted, because her sighs were driving him absolutely insane. To him, they were worthy of the finest orchestras in the world. “S’at good, baby?”

“Yeah, Ry. It’s so good.”

“You need it like this?” he asked. Whitney nodded her head. “Tell me why.”

“Because I’m at work all day and all I can think about is wanting to be with you,” she said. “And when it’s like this it’s so nice because it’s so…soft.”

Ryan couldn’t help but smile, kissing her again, making sure he didn’t get too far ahead of himself and go any faster than she wanted. She felt incredible as always, and he was going to take advantage of being inside of her for as long as possible. “Reminds me of the first time it happened on a couch,” Ryan whispered in her ear. “Remember? My parents were at a show here, Shannon was at a sleepover, and we were doing our best to watch that movie we can’t even remember.”

Whitney smiled. “I remember. I ended up on your lap within the first ten minutes.”

“That’s right,” Ryan chuckled. “Couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

“If my memory serves me right, I’d say it was the other way around,” Whitney said. “You were the one unzipping my shorts.”

“Those itty bitty jean shorts you used to wear? Can you blame me? Your ass looked great in those. Come to think of it, they barely covered it.”

“That was the first time I let you fuck me without a condom, too,” Whitney mentioned. “Remember?”

He did. They’d been having sex and Ryan was using a condom religiously, and Whitney said the only way they could have sex without one was if they both got tested for STIs. That’s what her parents taught her if she was going to become sexually active, and she was sticking to it. Ryan didn’t put up a fuss about it at all. He went to his doctor, got the required test, and showed Whitney. Whitney did the same, even though Ryan knew she was fine since she had only ever had sex with him. “Of course,” Ryan breathed out. “How could I forget?”

Ryan continued to move in and out of her, his hand moving down her body and to her clit where he began to rub lazy circles, causing Whitney to squirm and let out some more sighs. Though they were taking it nice and slow, Whitney could feel her orgasm building just as slowly, her body feeling hot after so much time of being engulfed in one another’s bodies. She put her hand over Ryan’s, still rubbing circles on her clit. “You take care of me in every way, Snook. I hope you know that.”

She was met by silence from Ryan. And in that silence, her mind began to wander. Why wasn’t he answering? Why hadn’t he said anything in return? All he did was continue his movements to make her feel good, which was always nice, but…why didn’t he say anything? Does he not believe it? “I’m close, Ry.”

“Yeah?” he finally responded.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to feel you come inside me.”

Eventually, when Ryan felt her entire body shiver, he knew her orgasm was running through her. Only then did he allow himself to come too, letting all his pent-up energy release inside of her. He made sure to continue rubbing her clit to make her orgasm last longer, until he felt her hand that was over his squeeze it to get him to stop. “Goooddd, Snook,” she sighed out. “That was so good. So nice.”

“I know,” he nodded. His cock slipped out of her but was immediately replaced with his hand, feeling her wetness on his fingers before Whitney switched positions so she was facing him instead of having her back towards him. He brought his hand up and sucked on his fingers, tasting her like he wanted. She kissed him immediately after. “You’re so sweet,” his voice was barely above a whisper, considering they were so close physically.

“Will you kiss me, Snook?”

Their lips met and they continued kissing for so, so long, completely lost in each other as the hum of the TV played in the background, Benson and Stabler starting to solve yet another case.

***

Whitney looked at herself in the mirror of her ensuite bathroom, wearing another one of Ryan’s Leafs shirts – this time in white – her jersey with his name on it draped over the door. She was wearing a pair of black lace underwear that made her ass look extra cheeky. Her nipples were already poking through the material of the shirt, but she knew she could do better. She looked towards the shower and thought, well, that’ll be pretty hot. She wet the t-shirt with the shower head, so much that it clung to her body, showing every curve. She went back in front of the mirror and began to pose, taking pictures of herself for Ryan.

She was going to tease him within an inch of his life. Why? Because she wanted to. Because she was still thinking about how he didn’t respond to her when they were having sex on the couch and she said, “You take care of me in every way, Snook. I hope you know that.” All she could think about for the past few days was how he didn’t respond. Did he not think that he took care of her? Did he not want to? Did he not want to anymore? When Ryan said he’d always take care of her, did that mean marriage? Did that mean children? Did that mean a life together? He didn’t answer, so maybe it didn’t. Maybe it did. She didn’t know anymore. It was all so confusing. What she did know was this: she was going to take care of him and his ego tonight, that was for sure. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, and maybe she should approach it in a different way; maybe it wasn’t mature and maybe it wouldn’t do anything in the grand scheme of things, but God damn it, this was how she was going to do it.

Ryan had already left for the arena for the game against the Panthers, and she would be making her way down in about an hour. She would be meeting Bee and Aryne before the game for some dinner and was mostly ready, except for the fact that she was taking pictures of herself as if she were competing in a wet t-shirt contest. When she was done with the wet t-shirt contest, she tossed it in the shower and put on his jersey instead. It was oversized, but she still knew she could make it look sexy. She made sure her underwear was visible as she made her ass was front and centre since not much else could be seen.

When Whitney was actually ready – in her clothes she had planned to wear to the game, and not the clothes she had planned to tease Ryan in – she texted Bee that she was leaving her place and on her way to Chotto Matte, the Japanese-Peruvian restaurant that the boys had apparently been frequenting as of late. When Bee realized that Whitney’s office was only a few blocks away from hers, she resolved that they get together more often, starting with dinner before the game with Aryne and Aberdeen. Whitney and Bee were the same age, only three days apart – Whitney born August 28th and Bee born on August 31st – and so Bee made a conscious effort to be friends with her, and Whitney appreciated the effort because she liked Bee (and all the other women) since the day she met them.

Before she lost the WiFi service at the station, Whitney took out her phone from her purse and opened the conversation she was keeping with Ryan.

Just on my way to dinner with Bee, Aryne, and Aberdeen. Can I show you my outfit? I don’t know if it’s too fancy. Have you been to Chotto Matte before?

He responded right away, letting her know that he wasn’t doing anything important. At least not yet.

Of course. And no, I haven’t been.

The subway rolled into the station. Whitney chose the first of the photos she favourited from the array she took, the least risqué of the night. A photo of her just posing in his t-shirt, her nipples poking through the fabric, a hint of the black lace of her panties showing. She got on the subway and took a seat, and as the subway began moving towards Rosedale station, her phone buzzed.

Looks like you’ll be cold. I think it needs a jacket.

She chuckled. So he was going to be a cheeky bastard. Fine.

By the time she made her way to Bay and Front Street, Bee and Aryne were waiting in the vestibule of the restaurant. Within five minutes Aberdeen arrived and they were seated at their table, ordering drinks and food – Whitney ordered the black cod aji miso on the behest of Aryne. The girls chatted up Whitney like they were old friends, and not like they’d just met merely a month ago. Whitney ignored the incoming texts from Ryan throughout dinner and had fun with her newfound friends.

Let me see your real outfit

What are you wearing?

Are you at the restaurant already? Are the girls there?

Go to the bathroom and show me how sexy you look in your outfit

Whit come on

I’m desperate here

You can’t just send a pic like that and then go silent

He was right. It was so incredibly rude of her to go silent after she sent him such a picture. So, as the waiter took their dinner plates away, she quickly got on her phone and sent him a second picture. It was a picture of her in the same outfit except this time, she had her hand down the front of the black lace panties. She locked her screen quickly, not giving it a second thought. Within seconds, a reply flashed on her screen.

What the fuck, sweetness

The girls paid the bill and made their way to the arena on foot, taking the elevator to the family lounge where a few of the other girls were already hanging out. When she had a moment to herself, she took out her phone and sent another picture, unsolicited: one where she was looking over her shoulder, pulling the t-shirt forward so her ass was in full view of the mirror.

Whitney

After some small talk with a few of the other women present, another: one where her t-shirt was wet and clung to her body, especially her breasts.

WHITNEY

After the Canadian and American national anthems were played, another one: a close up of her biting her lip, her nipples poking through the wet fabric of the shirt.

There’s a lot of guys in here with me

You gotta stop

As the first period went on, another: the wet t-shirt with her hand down her panties again.

Whit I mean it

Right after the buzzer at the end of the period, another: one of her in his jersey, ass in full view.

Holy fuck

She giggled slightly. At the end of intermission, when she knew all the men he was with would be back, another: her seated on the floor, her legs spread wide, his jersey barely covering up the visual.

I should come down to the family lounge and fuck you senseless in the bathroom.

Patience is a virtue, Snook

Stop teasing sweetness

That’s going to get you in trouble

If I’m trouble, then maybe you should roll up your sleeves, bend me over you knee, and spank me

Ryan never responded. Whitney didn’t push it. She knew she had him exactly where she wanted him and left it at that. She enjoyed the rest of the game, the rest of the banter and conversation with the girls. She finished her glass of wine and cheered on during overtime, though the Leafs lost.

When Ryan emerged from the locker room, he barely made eye contact with Whitney. He greeted all the other women very politely and made conversation with them as they asked him about his finger and what life was like in the press box. He milked the conversations for as long as he could, until a couple more of the guys emerged, until he finally looked at Whitney. “D’you want a ride home?”

“That’d be nice. Thanks,” she smiled.

She and Ryan got into the elevator to take them down to the parking garage. He hadn’t said a word to her. She couldn’t help the smile that was making its way onto her face after each passing silent moment. “How’d you like the game?” she asked. Silence. She bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing. Ryan didn’t even look at her. “You look great in that suit, by the way. Very sexy,” she offered.

Only then did Ryan give her a look, and even then – the look sent a shiver down her spine. She was wholly unprepared for it, and after the shiver came the heat. She knew she was in for it. She was anxious and excited all at once. When they walked off the elevator and started towards his Range Rover, his strides were so long and determined that Whitney almost felt like skipping to stay on pace with him.

Once they got to his car, Whitney decided to strike again. “Are you mad at me or something?”

They were lucky a lot of cars were parked, because Ryan pulled her in between them and pushed her up against his, pinning her between the car and his body. “You think you can just send me pictures like that and not have me go crazy?” he muttered, his lips so close to hers she could feel his breath on her skin.

“No, I knew exactly what I was doing,” she said in a hushed tone.

“You’re a little tease, sweetness.”

“Did you have to go beat one off in the bathroom because you got a little too excited?”

“Oh no no nooo,” he cooed before giving her a hard kiss that took her breath away. “I’m saving everything for when we get home.”

Whitney smiled from ear to ear. “Then what are we waiting for?”

“Oh good, their car is still here!” they both her Morgan’s voice yell through the parking garage. Ryan and Whitney separated at lightning speed. “You just couldn’t see them because you’re short, bumblebee.”

Whitney and Ryan both emerged from in between the cars casually. Bee was still a bit far from them, but close enough to not have to yell. “I just wanted to remind you to text me for dates next week when you’re available for lunch,” she said.

“Of course!” Whitney was chipper. “I’ll look at my schedule tomorrow at work.”

Bee nodded as she watched Ryan open the passenger side door for Whitney. “Drive safe,” she waved.

“You too!” Whitney said before getting in. Ryan waved to Bee and Morgan before walking around the car and getting into the driver’s seat.

***

“I was not supposed to see that. I was not supposed to see that. I was not supposed to see that,” Bee repeated to herself over and over as she sat in the passenger seat, eyes wide but staring at nothing, waiting for Morgan to get into the car. “I was not supposed to see that. I was not supposed to see that. I was not supposed to—”

“What weren’t you supposed to see?” Morgan’s voice suddenly interrupted her.

It was as if he had just magically appeared in the driver’s seat. Bee didn’t even hear him get in. She was too preoccupied with the scene replaying over and over in her mind: seeing Ryan and Whitney kissing in between cars when they thought no-one was watching. And it wasn’t just some innocent kiss, either. There was meaning behind it. History behind it.

“Nothing,” Bee shook her head. “Drop it.”

“Bumblebee—”

“Nothing.”

***

Ryan and Whitney rushed inside, their bodies ready to go before they even touched either other. Ryan pinned her against the wall and kissed her forcefully, greedily, because she let him and because he could and because he’d been waiting hours to show her what he really thought of those pictures. His knee was between her legs. “Y’looked so fuckin’ hot in those pictures, sweetness,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Which ones were your favourites? Wet t-shirt or jersey?”

He huffed. “How could I choose?” he asked, and he meant it. He picked her up in one swift movement and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, setting her back down on her feet. He grabbed handfuls of her ass with his hands, causing her to make a little noise at how his fingers dug into her skin.

“You wanted to fuck me so bad after seeing them, didn’t you?” she asked.

Ryan didn’t answer. Instead, he pinned her up against the wall again, except this time, he wasn’t kissing her. He was looking directly into her eyes as his chest rose and fell with the intensity of his breaths. “Don’t think I forgot about your teasing that easily,” he warned, his voice low. He could see the fire in Whitney’s eyes at her tone. He stopped pinning her against the wall, but she didn’t move. “You’re in a lot of fucking trouble, sweetness.”

Whitney watched as Ryan backed up further, until he was sitting in his dress shirt and suit pants on the edge of the bed, legs spread so she could see his growing bulge. “D’you want me to s—”

“You do what I tell you to do,” his said sternly as he unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt. “Understood?”

Whitney nodded excitedly, biting her bottom lip. “Yes.”

“Are you wearing the panties in the pictures?”

“Yes.”

He paused for a moment, licking his lips. “Show me. Nice and slow.”

Whitney knew what that meant. She giggled slightly before she began to untuck the rest of her shirt – whatever Ryan didn’t get to downstairs – from the jeans she was wearing. She watched as Ryan began to cuff the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, and she swore she could have come right then and there. She took off her top to reveal a lacy black bra, one that pushed her boobs up perfectly. “You like what you see, Snook?”

“Take off your pants, sweetness.”

She unbuttoned them slowly, swaying her hips, before unzipping them. Before she pulled them down, she took the few steps over to Ryan, just as he was finishing cuffing his other sleeve. She turned around so her ass was facing him and arched her back so it was in his face, pulling down her jeans slowly to reveal the lacy underwear that drove him crazy. She kicked her jeans off to the side and before she knew it, Ryan had pulled her on to his lap, wrapping a strong arm around her body so she couldn’t move. “You think you’re cute sending me those pictures even after I told you there were other people around, huh,” he whispered into her ear, his free hand snaking down to her panties.

“I had a lot of favourites,” she couldn’t help but smile as she felt his hand cup her pussy.

“You’re so fucking bad, sweetness.”

She felt his hand push her panties aside, two fingers teasing her pussy already. She writhed in his lap, closing her eyes. “I meant what I said in the text, Snook,” she said.

Ryan paused, as did his fingers. Using the name Snook said it all. “Are you sure, Whit?”

She nodded her head. “Yes. Please.”

He kissed her shoulder tenderly. Then he asked a question. “Do bad girls get what they want? Or are they going to have to beg?”

It was practically automatic, the way Whitney’s body heat up at what Ryan said. She closed her eyes again. “Please Ry, bend me over your knee.”

His arm’s grip on her loosened and he helped move her into the position she wanted to be in, over his lap with her ass exposed and ready. His fingers went right back to her pussy, teasing her lips only momentarily before he shoved them in. She let out a gasp at the intrusion, her body tensing in his lap. “Ry—”

“You’re so fucking needy and desperate sweetness.”

“I am.”

“For what? Tell me.”

She could feel his fingers curl inside of her, hitting a place that he didn’t normally hit and giving her a feeling she’d never felt before. For a moment, she almost forgot what all this was for. “I—I—”

“For what?”

“For you to spank me,” she finally let out. “For you to make me feel good.”

“What about my fingers, huh?” he asked, curling them in her again, causing her to squirm in his lap and moan loudly. “They aren’t good enough for you?”

“I want—I want more.”

“More what?”

Whitney was getting more turned on by the second. She loved putting her pleasure completely in Ryan’s hands, because he was the only one who knew exactly what to do to her, who knew exactly what to say to get her riled up. Besides, he put his pleasure completely in her hands, too. “I want more—more—”

“More? You think you’ve been a good girl who can get what she wants?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’ve been bad and I need to be spanked.”

Ryan looked at her ass in full view for him, his fingers leaving her pussy. He hesitated for a moment, because he wanted to give her what she wanted, but he also didn’t want to hurt her. They hadn’t done this before, in all the times they’d been together. Toronto must have really been something special if this is what they were getting up to now that they lived together in the same city. He brought the fingers that were in her pussy up to his mouth to taste her before he resolved to go for it. He took one last glance at the excited anticipation on her face before bringing his hand up, then down. Smack!

Whitney let out a yelp, writhing in his lap. “Oh fuck,” she breathed out.

“Did that hurt?”

“No no no, it felt so good,” she assured him. “Do it again, baby. Please.”

Smack!

Another yelp, her knees coming together as she crossed her ankles. He wasn’t spanking her particularly hard, but they’d never done this before. “Fuck!” she screamed out in pleasure.

“Feels good?”

“Feels so fucking good Ry, oh my God,” she couldn’t believe it. “Keep going.”

Smack!

Ryan caught sight of her pussy again, wet and slick from before and from what he was doing. He spanked her again and could practically see it throb in pleasure. He brought his hand back to her pussy, sticking his fingers in with ease since she was so wet, and she cried out at the sensation. This time, though, he quickened his pace and curled his fingers more often. Whitney had stopped being quiet a long time ago, but as he did so, she really wasn’t quiet. It was only after he’d had his fingers back in her for a while that he even realized she was trying to say something.

“B…b…”

“What is it, sweetness? You need a break?”

“Both.”

He was confused for only a second before understanding what she meant. “Look at me,” he grabbed her jaw with his free hand, which wouldn’t be so free after this if she meant what he thought she meant. He forced her to look at him. Her cheeks were so flushed red. “You want both?” he asked.

She nodded. “I want both, Ry.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he released her jaw. “You gotta tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“It won’t be. I want it so bad Ry. I’m gonna come so hard. I want—I want it so bad.”

Ryan could never say no to her. The only mode he knew was to indulge Whitney, and that was exactly what he was going to do. He took a lick of his fingers before sticking them back in her pussy, using his other hand to give her another smack that made her cry out in pleasure. Her body couldn’t help the movements it was making from the pleasure he was giving her, and Whitney couldn’t control them, either. Every spank and every curl of his fingers brought her closer to a place where she and Ryan had never been before – an entirely new plane of pleasure they were capable of giving only each other. “Mmmmm, ohmygod, Ry,” Whitney breathed out before cursing for the umpteenth time. A new curl of his fingers hit the same spot from earlier, and she was desperate to feel it again. “Right there, Ry. Just like that.”

Another curl right on the spot. Another cry. Another smack. Another curl. Whitney felt like she was losing her breath, repeating his name over and over with every curl and ever smack. She gripped the comforter for dear life, right before Ryan smacked her and curled his fingers at the same time, sending her entire body through an earth-shattering orgasm. She’d never felt anything like it before, and she was as loud as can be. She heard Ryan swear before the rhythm of his fingers changed slightly, slowing down before adopting a new rhythm. The orgasm lasted longer than so many others, and when most of it finally passed, her hips lowered back down to his lap.

“Sweetness—”

It felt weird. She couldn’t make it out at first – it was supposed to be Ryan’s dress pants, of course – but they felt different. Had she really sweat that much? Had he? The feeling was different than what she was used to. “Ry—”

“Holy fucking shit, Whit,” Ryan breathed out.

“Your pants—why do they feel wet?”

“Whit, I think you squirted.”

Whitney’s jaw dropped as she screamed in shock. Ryan began to giggle, almost nervously and definitely uncontrollably, not believing what had just happened. He could see Whitney’s eyes, nervous and uncontrollably delirious as his, smiling on their own above her hands that had cupped her dropped jaw and mouth. “Are you serious Ry?”

He giggled some more. “Oh my God-d-d-d,” he shook his head.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Whitney shook her head. She wiggled off his lap and onto the bed as they continued giggling in disbelief. She looked onto his lap to see the stain on his pants. “Oh my God. I didn’t even know I could do that.”

“I wasn’t expec—that was so fucking hot, sweetness.”

Whitney lay down on her side on the bed, shaking her head and covering her face with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“What?! Why?” Ryan demanded, moving so he could hover over her. He tried to get her hands out of her face, but she kept shaking her head. “Whit, there’s no way you should be embarrassed. That was so fucking hot. Are you kidding me? I’m gonna be fucking dreaming of that for the rest of my damn life.”

Her chest was still heaving up and down as Ryan finally got her hands out of her face. “You see what you do to me?” she asked. “Only you can do that to my body, Ry. Nobody else. And you know what’s even better?”

So she wasn’t done. Ryan bit his bottom lip. “What’s that?”

“Only you get to do that to my body,” she said. “You know why?”

“Because you’re all mine,” he huffed, his voice possessive as he stood up at the foot of the bed, facing Whitney as she lay there. The visual of him towering over her, still with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up and suit pants on almost made Whitney come again. “All fuckin’ mine.”

“That’s riiiiight,” she cooed.

“You ready to do what I tell you?” he asked, playing with his sleeves near his elbows.

“Yes Ry.”

“Spread your legs for me,” he said. Whitney did as she was told. Ryan licked his lips as he untucked his shirt. “Look at that pretty pussy. Fuck. You’re so beautiful, sweetness. So perfect.”

“You’re not so bad either,” she smiled.

“Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, beginning to unbutton his shirt. Slow enough to tease her, but fast enough because he couldn’t wait, his hard cock straining his pants.

He watched as Whitney did as she was told, one hand going to her pussy while the other cupped her breast, pinching her nipple. “I don’t want your hands anymore, Ry. I want you inside me. I want you to fill me with your cum.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he undid his belt. Whitney almost mewled at the sight of him doing it topless. “I’ll give you want you want. What you need.”

“I need it so bad, Ry. So so so bad.”

Ryan eventually got into bed and grabbed Whitney’s legs, pushing them straight up and grabbing her ankles to rest them on his shoulders. “I fuckin’ love you Whit.”

“I love you too, Snook. Ever since we were kids.”

“Ever since we were kids,” he repeated, nodding and kissing her inner ankle. “You ready to take my cock?”

“Yes, God yes.”

Ryan used his hand to position himself and he slid into her so easily, her pussy still wet from their previous activities. Like always, she felt like heaven, her pussy hot and completely taking his cock. “S’at feel good?”

Whitney nodded her head. “Fuck me, baby. Take care of me.”

Ryan grabbed her ankles, developing a strong rhythm and thrusting deep inside her as he made her cry out in pleasure. His own grunts fuelled Whitney too, who couldn’t help but reach out to Ryan’s body, just so she could feel it. He squeezed her ankles, ensuring they were secure on his shoulders. “You keep them there. Got it?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, his body and her legs getting hooked against her body. “Oh fuck,” Whitney breathed out. “Oh God Ry, it’s so fucking deep like this.”

“Gimme your hands.”

Even before she could free them, he grabbed them and pinned them above her head, holding them down with pressure so she couldn’t move them. His thrusts became even harder, his movements rough but passionate. She wanted a good fucking and she was going to get it – Ryan always made sure of that. Whatever her need was, he could fulfil it. Only him. “Jeeeeesus Ry, fu—fuck me good, baby. I need it so bad.”

Ryan didn’t know how he managed to last as long as he did. Between the little strip show and the fingering and the spanking and the squirting, to now as his cock was buried deep in her pussy as they looked into each other’s eyes and whispered dirty talk to each other, his body was sweaty and practically as wet as his dress pants by the time he felt his orgasm build inside of him. Whitney hadn’t been silent since he entered her, her voice becoming strained for how long he’d been fucking her and how long she’d been moaning and mewling and crying out and telling Ryan how good he was fucking her and how much she liked it.

“Baby—baby I’m so close,” Whitney whispered. “I want it harder. Go deeper.” Ryan pushed the final bit towards her body, hooking their bodies even closer together. She closed her eyes to enjoy the pleasure. “That’s it, Ry, that’s it.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, and she opened her eyes on the command. “You love it when I fuck you like this?”

Whitney nodded. “Always.”

“Tell me how much you love me fucking you.”

“Ever since the first time,” she assured him. “The first time you touched me, Ry – I knew nobody else could make me feel like you do. You were made to take care of me.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” his voice was gravelly.

“Cum inside me, Ry. Fill me up. Fill me up,” Whitney begged. “I know you want to. And I want it so bad.”

“You want it bad, huh?”

“I need it, Ry.”

Within seconds, Whitney could feel his hot cum explode inside her, filling her up just how she wanted, another intense orgasm flowing through her entire body, from the hairs on her head down to her toes. Her entire body shook and flushed red. Ryan was moaning out loudly as he spilled every single drop he had into her, eventually stopping his movements in and out of her. He loosened his push on her body so she could unhook her legs, and positioned her ankles back on his shoulders. “Atta girl,” he gave a light smack to where her thighs met her ass.

Whitney couldn’t help but smirk and giggle. Ryan let go of her ankles before collapsing on to her body and moving so they were laying on their sides, entangled with another. Whitney was still catching her breath when Ryan slipped out of her. “That was so good, Snook,” she whispered.

“God Whit, I love you so fucking much,” he kissed her.

“I love you too, Snook. I always have.”

They didn’t say much else besides other sweet murmurs to each other, and as Ryan ran his hands through Whitney’s hair, she lulled into a deep sleep, thinking about how good Ryan was to her. As Ryan drifted off to sleep, he kept thinking about how there was no place he’d rather be.

***

Hockey Night in Canada was a tradition in many households, and growing up, Whitney’s was one of them. She remembered it being on virtually every Saturday night, Owen and Gareth glued to the TV to watch the Leafs and whoever they were facing. Oftentimes the O’Reillys and Napiers would get together at each other’s houses on Saturday night, order some pizza, and make some popcorn for all the kids while they watched. Whitney remembers always sitting in between Ryan and Gareth, and eventually Shannon, with the O’Reilly foster kids all around them starting Go Leafs Go chants.

Tonight, she was in attendance for a Hockey Night in Canada for Ryan, who was playing on the Toronto Maple Leafs. She couldn’t believe it.

Whitney wore Ryan’s jersey and stood beside Bee, who held Axton up against the glass beside Jace, being held by Aryne on her hip. John came around to fist bump, the biggest smile on his face as he saw his boys. Jake McCabe came around too, waving at his kids who were excited to see their dad on the ice. Jeska Schenn even got a picture of her boys posing with Luke, who gave them a puck from the ice. Whitney could only hope that this would be her someday soon, bringing hers and Ryan’s children down to the glass to see their dad.

As this was the Leafs’ last home game, there was extra energy in the building. When the women got back to their section and settled into their seats, they could feel it. Mitch opened the scoring, and John scored about five minutes later, with a secondary assist from Ryan. Aryne and Whitney hugged, jumping in unison. In the second period, when William Nylander scored with another assist from Ryan, Whitney screamed even louder, Aberdeen screaming with her as they hugged too. In the third period, on John’s second goal, Ryan got his third assist, and Whitney was elated. The boys played so well, earning a 7-1 win against the Montreal Canadiens in their last home game of the season. With the team saluting the raucous crowd, the girls clapped and cheered.

“Come to SoHo House with us,” Aberdeen whispered to Whitney as the girls began filing out of the family lounge.

“SoHo House? Isn’t that members only?”

“Between myself and Bee, we can all get in as guests,” Aberdeen winked. “And we need to celebrate, don’t we?”

Whitney smiled. “Of course we do.”

Before Whitney, Aberdeen, and the rest of the girls were able to travel towards the locker room, they were stopped by a familiar voice – at least to Whitney. “Whitney? Is that you?”

Whitney turned her head to see a familiar face – Rachael, the girlfriend of Joel Edmundson, who played with Ryan on the Blues when they won the Stanley Cup. She and Rachael weren’t exactly friends, but they tried to be friendly, though Rachael always had an iciness to her that Whitney couldn’t crack. She didn’t know if it was just her personality or if Rachael didn’t like her. In any case, Whitney completely forgot Joel was on the Montreal Canadiens, so it was very unexpected to see her at Scotiabank Arena. Considering her personality, Whitney was slightly shocked Rachael was even getting her attention to say hi. “Oh, Rachael! Hey!” she greeted, smiling. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” she said quickly to Aberdeen before re-routing herself towards Rachael. “It’s nice to see you, Rachael.”

“Nice to see you too,” she said, though she didn’t outstretch her arms for a hug.

“It’s good that you were able to make the game here. Your sister is studying here, right?” Whitney asked.

“Can’t believe you remember that,” Rachael commented. “But yeah. A couple of the girls and I came for the game, but I’m staying to spend some time with my sister. What are you doing here?”

Whitney thought it was obvious. She was wearing Ryan’s jersey, after all, which gave it away. She pointed to the ‘90’ patch on her arm, giggling slightly. “Ryan got traded here at the trade deadline, and I’m here, you know, supporting him.”

“No, Whitney…I mean, what are you doing here?” Rachael asked again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t believe you’re still waiting around for him,” Rachael said.

Whitney froze slightly, her eyebrows furrowing at the comment. “What?”

Rachael rolled her eyes playfully. “Listen, all I’m saying is…you’re hot, Whitney. And if it were you, I’d be flirting with Auston Matthews or something, not waiting for Ryan like you always have been.”

“I’ve never been waiting for Ryan—”

“—Yes you have. We’ve all seen it. Every time you came to visit St. Louis, Joel and I would always see it, always talk about it. And I just can’t believe it’s still going on,” Rachael lamented, not bothering to cover the contemptuous pity in her voice. “I feel bad for you. If I was waiting this long, I’d want someone to tell me how desperate I looked. You should have taken that opportunity with Binner when you had the chance.”

Whitney could feel her cheeks flush red. “How could you even say that? Binner was so inappropriate with me. There’s no way I would have even considered it – then or now.”

Rachael wasn’t letting up. Clearly, she started this conversation with a purpose. Were these things she wanted to tell Whitney back then and only had the opportunity to do so now, when they were alone, because Whitney trusted this conversation to be a fucking normal one? “You have to move on and accept the fact that Ryan isn’t going to want you,” she said, her words as cold as ice. “Move on, Whit. He’s never going to be with you.”

Whitney narrowed her eyes at Rachael. It took everything within her not to cry or scream in her face. Whitney knew there were some…well, characters among the partners of NHL players, but Rachael was playing a dirty game that Whitney didn’t like, that Whitney never considered playing herself. “Is this why you got my attention? To tell me how desperate I am? To make me feel awful?”

“I’m trying to save you a lot of heartache. Trust me,” she said. “Auston Matthews is right there.”

Whitney looked directly into her eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Rachael.”

Whitney turned on the balls of her heels and walked away, disappearing quickly behind a door Rachael wasn’t allowed access through. Instead of going directly to where Aberdeen and the rest of the women were, she escaped into the washroom, if only to make sure that the tears welling in her eyes and the redness in her cheeks wouldn’t be visible when she saw them all again.

Rachael’s words ruminated in Whitney’s mind and made her stomach bubble as looked at herself in the mirror. “Stop waiting for Ryan. I feel bad for you. Move on. He’s never going to be with you.” She wasn’t right. Whitney knew Ryan loved her, yet for some reason, he didn’t want to be with her. Ryan adored her, but couldn’t be with her. Ryan was her forever, and she was Ryan’s forever, but something was stopping him from putting a label on that forever. She’d cheated on her boyfriends with him. She broke guys’ hearts because of him, so desperate to be with her that they would have walked barefoot on lava. But Ryan was her beginning, end, and everything in between, and she wasn’t interested in men willing to walk on lava when she had Ryan willing to do anything for her.

Except be with her.

Except call her his girlfriend.

Except make her his wife.

She burst out of the washroom, walking down the flight of stairs to see Aberdeen and an array of the other girls waiting for the boys. “All good?” Aberdeen asked.

“Mhm,” she nodded quickly, burying her feelings within her. “I’m ready to drink.”

***

Ryan noticed something off about Whitney the moment they got into the car. Something was off. She assured him that everything was fine, that she’d just heard a fan say something stupid about him in the stands and it had made her angry, but he knew she was lying. Stuff like that never bothered Whitney before, so why was it bothering her now? The drive to SoHo House wasn’t long, but he tried to get the truth out of her with no success. He resolved to get to the bottom of it by the end of the night, even if he had to pry it out of her.

Whitney immediately approached the bar, ordering a margarita and finishing it within the first ten minutes. SoHo House wasn’t that kind of scene, of course, but Whitney didn’t care – if she was going to have to drink her feelings away, she would. Upon ordering her second, she felt Ryan behind her. “Will you tell me what happened, please?”

“I said it’s nothing,” she said.

“Then slow down,” he said, watching as the bartender handed her the second margarita. “I wish you would just be honest with me.”

He’s never going to be with you. “I am being honest,” she said. “Please, Snook. I just want to have a fun night out with the girls. You’re gone all next week and I’m going to miss you. I don’t want to start thinking about it now.”

Ryan digressed, because he always did. He knew how much Whitney missed him when he was gone – he got to see it now when he came home to her. When they were separated for months, it was even worse. So he let her be with the girls and he hung out with the guys, and he noticed her get a third margarita, except this time it was after a while and a few glasses of water. He kept his eye on her, her animated face lighting up at the stories she’d tell or listen to, her laugh loud and rambunctious.

“There’s nothing going on between you two, right?” William Nylander asked as he watched Aberdeen interact with Whitney.

“Nah. Why?”

William knew Ryan was lying. William knew Ryan was lying because William had something to hide once too, and Ryan wasn’t nearly as good or meticulous as he was in hiding it. Besides, Aberdeen had said she didn’t think Ryan and Whitney were just friends, and William trusted her judgement. “You’ve been eyeing her all night. Just want to make sure you look around the room a bit.”

Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m good, Will. Seems like she and Aberdeen get along great though.”

“Aberdeen loves her. She’s wondering why it’s taking you so long to make Whitney your girlfriend.”

***

It was about 1:30 in the morning when everybody decided to leave. Ryan only had one drink at the beginning of the night and water the rest of the time through, so he was good to drive. When they arrived home, they walked in without a word to each other. Both ended up in the kitchen, with Whitney getting glasses and pouring them some ice-cold water to have.

“I wish you would be honest with me about what was bothering you tonight,” he said, still wanting to address the situation. He knew it probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but he needed the truth from Whitney.

He doesn’t want you. I feel bad for you. “I could say the same,” she whispered before taking another sip of water.

It may have been a whisper, but Ryan definitely heard. “When have I not been honest with you?”

Move on, Whitney. “You tell me.”

“Whitney,” his voice was serious. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve always been honest with you. Now will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Whitney finished her glass of water, wishing it was some sort of hard liquor that would give her liquid confidence. “Rachael was at the game tonight.”

“Who’s Rachael?”

“You remember Joel’s girlfriend?”

“…Okay,” Ryan said. “Did you guys see each other? Did she say something?”

Whitney paused. It was now or never. She knew that every thought she ever had about this would come rushing out of her after she started talking, so she tried to compose herself ahead of time. She didn’t want things to get messy. “She said she couldn’t believe I was still waiting for you like I’ve always been,” she began. “She said she felt bad for me, that I should have taken the opportunity to be with Binner when I had the chance. She told me to move on because you’re never going to be with me.”

Ryan was silent. The words hung between them as silence filled the air. ‘”So do you?” Whitney asked out of the blue. “Do you want to be with me?”

“You—you don’t want to be with me, Whit.”

Whitney couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Excuse me? I cheated on my boyfriends with you, Snook. And you think that? You actually say that out loud?”

“Listen, Whit— I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“No you wouldn’t. Stop lying to me,” her voice was getting angrier each passing second. This was the moment. This was it.

“I’m not lying to you—”

“You won’t marry me. You won’t even call me your girlfriend. We’ve been doing this song and dance for ten years and you still won’t even call me your girlfriend.”

The words hung in the air again. Ryan’s heart was almost beating out of his chest. “You’re right, Whit. I won’t marry you.”

Whitney could feel her cheeks flushing red. She’d been rejected plenty of times before – but not by Ryan. And, of course, never for something so big. The way he said it made it sound so definitive. “Why won’t you be with me, Snook?” her voice quivered.

“Sweetness…”

“What is it? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! Whit—Whit—my god—” Ryan’s voice was frantic. “Why would you think you did anything wrong?”

“How could I not?” she demanded back. “Is it because you don’t love me?”

“No! I love you more than anyone else. I’ve always loved you Whit. You know that. How—how could you say that?”

Whitney began shaking her head. She didn’t understand why he was saying such things to her. He wasn’t making any sense. He loved her, but he couldn’t be with her. She didn’t do anything wrong, but he didn’t want to be with her. It was cutting deep; every word that came out of his mouth carving deeper and deeper into her. She bolted from the kitchen and ran upstairs, Ryan following behind her calling her name. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me that you won’t be with me?” she demanded of him once they were in their bedroom.

“Nothing is wrong with you. Not a thing. You’re perfect.”

“Then why!!!” she began to cry. “Then why, Snook? We tell each other all the time how much we love each other. We tell each other all the time that we’re the only ones for each other. I mean it when I say it, Snook. Do you? I want to marry you. I want to be your wife. I want to have a family with you, Ry – only you. I’m not having a family if it’s not with you. Don’t you want that too? With me? Why don’t—why don’t you want that too?”

“I do.”

“You’re not making any sense!” she yelled, trying to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand. “Why don’t you love me?”

“I love you more than anybody else Whit. That’s—that’s why I can’t.”

“Why don’t you love me?” she asked again. She wanted an honest answer out of him.

Ryan’s face was flushed now, too. “I can’t marry you because of me, sweetness. It has nothing to with you. It never has and it never will.”

Whitney paused. Was he seriously giving her the “it’s not you; it’s me” excuse during the most significant and momentous argument they’d ever had? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’d ruin your life, Whit.”

Okay, now he truly wasn’t making any sense. Nothing coming out of his mouth made sense. “How could you possibly ruin my life when you are my life?” she asked.

Those words hit Ryan hard. Hard. Because he knew how true they were. And for as long as their lives have been intertwined, she had been his life too. “Whit…” his voice began trembling too now. “Whit, you don’t understand. I can’t—I can’t—”

“Ryan, you’re being—”

“—No, Whit, let me—”

“—You’re being irrational—”

“—No I’m not. It’s not—I’ve thought about this.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Yes I have. I can’t be with you. I can’t marry you.”

“Yes you can.”

“No I can’t. I—I—” he stuttered, not even bring able to bring himself to say the words out loud. “I’ll hurt you. Like I did before.”

There was silence between the two as the words hung in the air. “What?” Whitney’s voice was much calmer than before. “When did you ever hurt me?”

Ryan looked away. He bit his lip, chest heaving up and down at how emotional he was getting. He couldn’t even bear to think about it, let alone say it out loud. The memories still paralyzed him. They brought back so much hurt, so much pain. “The accident, Whit,” he whispered.

“What accident?”

“Tim Horton’s.”

More silence. The gears were trying to shift in Whitney’s mind, but they were stuck. “You didn’t hurt me, Snook.”

Ryan finally looked at her again. “How could you say that? Of course I did,” he said through gritted teeth, the pain of remembering overcoming him. “You called me that night to pick you up and I was supposed to keep you safe. I gave you a concussion, Whitney. I—you weren’t the same for months, and it was because of me. I did that to you.”

Whitney began shaking her head, watching him as he sat down on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. “Snook, no—”

“I don’t know how I even live with myself after hurting you.”

“Snook, no. Listen to me—” she got down on her knees in front of him, trying to cradle his face in her hands, but he nodded them away. He wasn’t deserving of it. He believed he wasn’t deserving of such affection. He wasn’t worthy.

“And I promised him,” Ryan whispered, tears falling down his face and evident even in his voice now. “I promised Gareth I’d take care of you. And I didn’t. I did that to you. I couldn’t—I didn’t—I—”

“—Snook—”

“—He was dead in the casket, Whit, and I p—I promised him—”

“—Snook please—”

“—I didn’t keep my promise, and what if—what if I hurt you again? What if—”

“—You won’t—”

“—I love you more than anyone, Whit. If I hurt you? I can’t hurt you, and if we—there’s too much risk. Because of me and how stupid I was. I could hurt you again and—”

“—You won’t, you won’t, you won’t,” Whitney repeated desperately, hoping it would get through to him somehow. “Snook, that’s in the past. It’s okay.”

Ryan shook his head. “It’s always with me that I did that to you.”

“C’mere,” she urged, and without another word she hugged tightly, his head in the crook of her neck as he cried. She felt his tears on her skin there as she tried to calm him down by running her fingers through his hair or rubbing his back, but there was no use. This was something that Ryan had been carrying deep, deep within him for years now, and she had no clue. The revelation of it being the reason keeping them apart was enlightening, painful, and heartbreaking all at once. “Let’s pretend it never happened, Ry.”

“I’ve tried. I can’t. Every time I try to erase the memory, I get lost in it. All I can picture is you passed out beside me in the truck, or you in the hospital bed crying. I hate myself for doing that to you. I never got over it. I hate—I hate mys—”

“Shhhhh,” she cooed. “Snook, there’s nobody else for me out there but you.”

“I know. And I feel the same. But I don’t deserve you after what I did. I can’t take care of you.”

“Yes you do,” Whitney said. “And yes you can. You’re the only man in this world that can take care of me.”

“No. No. No,” he shook his head vigorously. “I can’t take care of you if I hurt you.”

“Yes you can Snook, please,” she urged, tearing up again. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me live a life without you. I can’t live a life without you, Snook.”

They cried together. It was the only thing they could do after the catharsis, after the truth had been revealed for both of them. Ryan pulled her up and into his lap. Whitney could feel Ryan gripping onto her, his cries still coming. “I don’t want to live a life without you,” Ryan mumbled, “but I don’t know how I can live a life where I can take care of you how I want to…how I’m supposed to. Up to my standards. I promised Gareth. I didn’t—I didn’t live up to it early on. What if I never can?”

“I’m telling you that you can. I’m telling you that you’re the only one,” Whitney said. “You bought us this house, Snook. This house is for us, right?”

“Yes. For you, but for us. I know it is.”

“Think about the memories we already have here. And think about the memories we can make here,” she whispered, finally cradling his face in her hands as she stared directly into his eyes. “The smell of your chicken soup. The feel of your body against mine in our bed. Think about it, Snook. Think about our kids sliding across these hardwood floors. Movie nights where we’re all cuddled on the sofa together under blankets. Carting the kids around to hockey practice. Bringing them up to Bluewater Beach to swim like we did when we were kids. I want that with you, Snook. D’you want that with me?”

His breath hitched in his throat at the thought of children – their children, with all their personality quirks and mops of hair and sandy toes from the beach. “I want that more than anything.”

She made sure to kiss him quickly – a peck so small it almost didn’t register as a kiss. “Then what’s stopping us? Why can’t we do it? Because you don’t feel like you can take care of me even though you have since I was seventeen? You’ve taken care of me, Snook. All this time. You’ve taken care of my body. You’re the only one that’s taken care of my body. And more importantly, you’ve taken care of my mind, my soul.”

“I’ve taken care of you because I love you,” he whispered.

“Have I taken care of you?” Whitney asked.

Ryan nodded his head immediately. “You always have. Just by being you. By being there for me. By being my sweetness.”

“Then let’s do it. You and me. Because we love each other. Because we’ve loved each other since we were kids. Because we take care of each other. Right?”

“Right.”

“If I take care of you, will you take care of me?”

Whitney waited. She waited and she waited and she waited, looking into Ryan’s big blue eyes for a response. The same blue eyes she fell in love with as a kid. The same blue eyes that brought her so much comfort and love. The same blue eyes she could find her own soul in.

Finally, he spoke. “Yes.”

Whitney had waited a long time to hear those words. She wanted to make sure she wasn’t hearing things. She needed to confirm. “Yes?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

More confirmation was needed. “We’ll get married, Snook?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve just been scared, sweetness. We’ll get married,” he confirmed. “I’ll give you everything. I’ll take care of you. I love, you Whit.”

She kissed him again, much more passionately this time. “I love you, Snook,” she said against his lips. “I can’t wait to be your wife. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives taking care of each other, right?”

“Yes. Yes,” he affirmed, kissing her again.

Ryan held her tight onto his body as he moved back on to the bed. They continued to kiss for a long time, long enough that Whitney’s lips got red and puffy, with Ryan whispering “I love you, I love you so much” over and over again like he was reciting a prayer. To have Ryan be hers was all Whitney ever wanted, and she couldn’t believe they had finally gotten to this point. After ten years and countless secrets, grief and elation and success, Ryan was able to overcome his fear. Whitney was able to help him. They would be able to live their lives now as they always wanted to; no longer in secret. They could hold hands in front of their parents. They could give each other quick kisses on the backyard deck. They could wrap their arms around each other in front of friends. Nobody would have to second-guess or question their love for one another. They could just be how they were with each other in front of other people. Whitney anticipated it to be the most liberating feeling in the world, to be able to proclaim that she loved Ryan O’Reilly, and Ryan O’Reilly loved her, and that they were going to build a life together. A life they wanted. A life they deserved together.

“Make love to me Snook,” she whispered in his hear as her hand played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Ryan took his time, kissing along her jawline before moving down to her neck and clavicle, covering every inch of her skin with his kisses. He helped her get out of her shirt and bra before she helped tug his own shirt off. Whitney quickly leaned back so Ryan could take her pants and underwear off – same with him – before she got back into his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders so they were physically close.

“I love you, Snook.”

“I love you too, sweetness.”

“You need to know you’ve never hurt me before in my life,” she stressed. “Not even the accident. Never, okay Snook?”

Ryan nodded his head. “Let me kiss you.”

Their lips crashed together again, their tongues stuck down each other’s throats. Whitney made sure to run her fingers through his hair, because she knew he liked that. Ryan made sure to drag his hands down to her hips, squeezing at the flesh there and making her grind into his lap before moving his hands onto her ass. “You need to know something too,” he said, his voice low.

“What’s that?”

“It’s always been you, Whit. Since we were kids. I’ll take care of you until the day I die.”

Those were words Whitney had wanted to hear for a long time, considering he was saying them now in the context of her being his wife. She felt so elated and so happy that it was almost as if the ten years of waiting was worth it. “Make love to me, Snook. Like you love to do.”

One of his hands snuck between their bodies so he could position his hard cock at her entrance. He took the opportunity to tease her only for a few seconds before pushing it in. Whitney grinded her hips in his lap, getting him all the way inside her. She paused, her mouth open against Ryan’s. She didn’t care how many times it happened; every time he was inside of her, Whitney swore she saw stars. “You’re so big, Snook. So perfect for me.”

“Love you so fucking much, Whit,” he whispered in her ear. His hands moved back to her hips, helping guide them as she moved in his lap.

“God you feel so good,” she whispered, leaning back slightly and exposing more of her neck and decolletage to Ryan. He took the opportunity to kiss her everywhere, leaving some love bits on the way as he licked and sucked at her skin. Eventually, he made his way down to her breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, causing her to sigh in pleasure. Her nails were digging into his back; she was holding on to him for dear life. “Keep doing that, Snook.”

He kept up with his kissing and love bites between her breasts, eventually moving to the other and taking the other nipple in his mouth too. Whitney continued her movements in his lap, and he could tell that she was trying to make this last. Good. If it were up to him, it would last all night. He’d test the limits of what was physically possible. “You’re so beautiful, Whit. I could kiss every inch of you.”

“You’re lucky you have,” she couldn’t help but smile. “And you’re going to get to the rest of your life.”

They looked deep into each other’s eyes then, the heat of their bodies radiating between them. “I can’t wait for you to be the mother of my children.”

Whitney smiled widely this time, unable to contain it. “I can’t wait, either.”

“Don’t think I didn’t ever want that with you. I did. I always did. I was just scared—”

“—It’s okay, Snook,” she put her index finger on his lips. “You don’t have to be scared of hurting me anymore.”

He kissed her, unable to say anything else. Whitney began running her hands through his hair. They kissed again for a while, until both could feel their orgasms building. “I love you, Snook. Will you come inside me?”

Ryan nodded quickly. “Always,” he said. “I’m the only one.”

“That’s right. You’re the only one that gets to come inside me.”

After some more kissing, both Ryan and Whitney felt their orgasms rush through their bodies at the same time. Whitney held him close, gripping on to Ryan for dear life, their heads on each other’s shoulders as they cried out in ecstasy. They let it last as long as possible, riding it out for as much as they could before their breath started to come back to them and they sunk into each other’s arms.

Whitney was the first to pull back slightly, only to have her lips meet with Ryan’s again in a series of small, slow, lazy pecks. She could rest her lips on him all night if she could. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Will you hold me in your arms as we sleep?”

Ryan couldn’t help but smile. “You never have to ask me that. I’ll always hold you.”

They shifted positions, Ryan pulling the covers off the bed and Whitney getting under them. She snuggled into his body as he draped the covers over them, and he wrapped his arms around her when he was done, making sure she was comfortable. “Hey Whit?”

“Yeah Snook?”

“I’m sorry you were waiting for me.”

Whitney couldn’t help but smile slightly to herself. There was no reason for him to feel guilty. It took a while, yes, but this was their story. And it would always be their story now. “Don’t apologize,” she said. “I have you. That’s all I need.”

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