#it's there and jon better remember it <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[tibialtybalt]

I think I should redraw some of my tma art.

[deadsetobsessions]

Short DPXDC prompt #2, from @stealingyourbones.

“It’ll be good for you!” Dick threw an arm around Tim’s shoulders as he beamed his way through Gotham U’s campus.

“I could have done this online. They have virtual degrees. I could have hacked my way into one.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t get the authentic experience!”

The group arrived at the dorm building, one of many, and Damian gave it a dubious once over.

“If this is authentic, I refuse to be a part of the locals.” Damian quietly remarked, before peering cautiously at Dick. “I have obtained my degrees. I do not need this experience.”

“It’s really not that bad, guys.”

“How would you know? You went to Blüdhaven for college.” Tim retorted with the voice of a young man resigned to despair. “You lived off campus and your door pin was Zitka’s birthday, month first then date second.”

“… Tim, why the fuck do you know that.”

“When I knocked on your door, that was just common courtesy. I didn’t actually need you to open it. I could have opened it myself.”

Dick’s smile brightens even further, with the light of an LED bulb instead of his usual sun, and places a hand on Tim’s head. “You’re creepy sometimes, you know that?”

“And you’re careless sometimes, you know that?” Tim groused. “Ugh, whatever. Let’s just get this over with. I can’t believe I’m going to have a roommate.”

“It’ll be fun! And if it isn’t, you can always swap roomies. We have enough pull to have that happen.”

“Doubtlessly.” Damian said. “This campus barely passes the bar of acceptability. Why is the campus like this. Why is it incorporated into the city.”

Tim smirked. Even though Damian spoke with formal language only found in the highest of echelons of society, Jon’s influence was beginning to make itself known. Good for him, the little shit. Privately, Tim thought the presence of a Kryptonian brought out the better sides of a bat. God knows Kon did, for him.

“Okay, enough whining you two! Let’s get Tim settled in.”

Tim elbowed Dick in the gut and kept walking into the building as his big brother wheezed dramatically. Damian rolled his eyes- he’s seen Nightwing take harder hits than Drake’s pointy elbows and walk it off- and followed. Unbeknownst to them, Dick all but beamed with joy at their solidarity. His plan was working.

——

Tim settled into the dorm, disgruntled at the small and uncomfortable twin mattress. The dorm smelt of faint mildew, had at least ten safety code violations, and had ventilation that probably hasn’t been cleaned since the last fear gas attack. The vent thing honestly might explain the state of Gotham U’s students and their proclivities to become supervillains. Tim is more tempted to go into villainy than ever before with these conditions.

That is, until his roomie walked in.

Step 1) reboot brain.

Holy shit, his roomie was HOT.

Step 2) notice all the weird things his roomie all showed unconsciously. Too graceful. Walking carefully, like how Kon does sometimes when he’s remembering to be careful with his fragile surroundings. Meta? Too sharp teeth.

Wait. Sharp teeth?

“Uh, hi. I’m Danny. You must be my roommate. Tim, right?” The guy, Danny, had a deep voice. And too sharp teeth. Because he smiled. It was a damn nice smile.

Step 3) bi panic. DID TIM MENTION HE WAS HOT??

“Uh. Hi. Yeah, I’m Tim.”

“Cool. What’re you majoring in?”

“Forensic Analysis. You?”

“Aerospace engineering.”

They looked at each other awkwardly. “Cool, I’m just gonna set my stuff down.”

“You’re not from here, right?” Tim asked and promptly flushed when an amused smile gets thrown his way.

“The accent give it away?”

“Yeah. Uh. You want a tour, man?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

——

It was flashes of things.

“Oh. I don’t go anywhere without my thermos.” Danny smiled, patting the dented thing. Except, Tim’s never seen him drink from it.

Or:

“Oh, woah. Food’s not attacking me.” And the thing is, Danny actually looked apprehensive before poking at the cafeteria food.

What??

And a month passes before Tim realizes he’s one hundred percent absolutely fucked.

Because it’s one thing if it’s an extremely attractive dork with brains and humor.

It’s an entirely different thing if the extremely attractive dork with brains and humor was a complete and total mystery. Tim is an absolute sucker for mysteries. It’s even more attractive than smacking him in the face with a brick!

“Hey, Tim?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Tim screamed at himself. He’s dated like fifteen different people! Why the hell is he so awkward with Danny?

(Tim was always awkward. He has that autistic rizz.)

“Tell me more about blood splatters?” Danny asked with a hopeful smile. Tim folded like wet paper. (It helps that he knows a lot- too much- about analyzing blood splatters.)

——

Outside of their window, Nightwing cackled to himself. It was worth using the Wayne name to get Tim the most interesting college kid Dick could find as a roommate. Who said Tim had the market corner on stalking anyways?

Nightwing flipped off of the roof, all but skipping home.

Robin, his patrol partner for the night, grimaced. For all Richard was his favorite, the man unsettled him at times.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis, Ch 5 Part 2

masterpost shhhh migraine, hell week, worked like 14 hours yesterday. no editing please <3

Kon leaned against the open door frame between the hall and kitchen. He watched Lois peel an apple with practiced ease; Jon hated apple skin. Kon had no idea where Jon got that from, considering Clark would eat most things and Lois was snacking on the peel as she worked.

“Need anything, honey?” Lois asked without taking her eyes off the apple and the sharp knife in her hand.

The nickname always made Kon feel equally warmed and uncomfortable. Honey—someone Lois cared about. She had cared since about fifteen minutes after she’d met him. The first fifteen she’d spent chewing Clark out.

Kon cleared his throat. “Yeah. I actually wanted to ask you for some advice, if you’ve got a moment.”

“Welcome to my parlor, pull up a chair,” Lois said with a grin. “Want an apple slice?”

“Sure.” Kon took the offered slice and went to lean against an open spot of counter. He took the excuse of eating the snack to try and gather his thoughts. “So, um, what sort of activity is good for a first date with someone you already know?”

Lois almost fumbled both the apple and the knife with how quickly she spun to look at him. “No! Really? Who made the move first, you or Danny?”

Kon crossed his arms. “That obvious?”

“Honey, you forget I fell for a Midwestern dork myself, I know what that looks like,” Lois said as she motioned with the knife. “Besides, you were cuddling with him. You only let your group cuddle with you and even then you shove them off half the time.”

Kon opened is mouth to protest, but couldn’t actually find any words to defend himself with so he just frowned.

“Well?” Lois asked with a teasing smile. “Who made the move?”

“Me,” Kon grumbled. “A little one, but then Danny made me talk about it, and I maybe kissed him.”

“Look at you go! Proud of you, kid,” Lois said.

Which was a surprise.

“…yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it was clear that you were sweet on him. It’s too easy to do nothing about a crush. I’m proud that you did something about it,” Lois said. It sounded true.

“I… thanks,” Kon said. He rubbed at his cheek. “But I don’t know what to do for a date. Dates weren’t exactly something that Lex had downloaded into my brain like math.”

“I wouldn’t trust anything that Lex thought about dates anyways,” Lois said dryly.

Kon thought abut that for a moment. “Yeah, okay, true. But that still doesn’t help.”

“We’re getting there!” Lois said and tossed another piece of apple at him.

He caught it and munched on it as a way to stay quiet.

“A movie date is still a classic,” she said. “But if Danny is feeling better, there’s always bowling or roller skating. There’s this grate place—I did a story on the women there once—that’s a roller derby rink but when there aren’t matches, it’s just a place to skate. They use the funds to help pay for the team, but it’s also set up to be a safe place for queer teens and young adults to hang out at. That might be something fun.”

Kon thought about it. “…that could be fun, yeah. Do you remember the name of it?”

Lois shook her head as she piled all the apple splices onto a plate with some cheese slices. “Not off the top of my head, but I can pull it up at work tomorrow and text you to it, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Kon said and stole a slice of cheese. “We wouldn’t do anything before Friday anyways, bit chem test coming up.”

“Ugh, chem, please tell me you don’t need any help with that one.”

“Nope, that I did get downloaded into my brain,” Kon said with a grin.

“Well, about time Lex did something useful,” Lois joked as she headed off to find Jon with the snack plate. “Other than making you I mean, honey!”

Kon ducked his head an rubbed at his cheek. Under his breath he mumbled, “…thanks, Mom.”

[azzibuckets]

letters from dallas part 1

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: in which i neglect all the other series and fics im supposed to be writing to send more angst ur way <3

lfd masterlist | main masterlist

May 1, 2025

Dear Azzi,

It fucking sucks here.

I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this opportunity. And I am, I swear. My teammates are nice. Arike’s been showing me around downtown. Nai and Lyss are funny. They’ve adopted me, called me their child. They remind me of us.

My therapist said it’s good to write down my feelings. Not sure how she’d say if it was letters, letters to you, but hey, something is better than nothing.

I saw a trailer for Frozen 3 last week and I thought of you. I hope you’re doing well. I called KK the other day. She was so excited - I felt bad. I haven’t been as good as I wanted to be with talking to our team - well, your team now - but it hurts too much knowing that they get to spend every day with you and I can’t. I asked her about you. She seemed hesitant to tell me. But I kept nagging her and she told me you’re good, spending a lot of time reading and stuff. Said they finally got you off Colleen Hoover. She wants me to move on, I can tell. It’s killing both of us, how I can’t let you go. But I guess writing these letters and stuffing them in my closet are how I’m trying to get my closure and deal with my feelings, so maybe this will help.

You’re on my fucking mind all the time, and I wish you weren’t. I miss you so bad sometimes it hurts to exist. If you saw the amount of melatonin I take every every night just to avoid you in my dreams, you’d probably yell at me.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 7, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Have I mentioned that Drew hasn’t been talking to me? He blames me for our breakup, and he misses you like hell. I do too.

I played like shit in the game yesterday. I can’t believe we lost to the Sparks. It was nice seeing Cam again though. I don’t know if you remember, but it’s our anniversary. I saw that you were at the soccer game with the girls. You looked really good, really happy. I guess it doesn’t affect you like it affects me. And I know that should make me like, mad, or jealous. But I’m glad at least one of us is healing?

Honestly? it sucks having to see your face all over social media. It sucks even more whenever I go on my Instagram page and you’re all over it too. I could be salty and delete all of it, but that would start too much drama. Besides, that would mean deleting like half my posts

I wonder how Jose and Jon are doing. Jon unfollowed me the other day. That one hurt pretty bad. I miss my little brothers, and I miss your parents.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 28, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Yesterday was a fucking shit show. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to even show up when I heard you guys were coming. It was weird, seeing you in the audience. It was everything I’d always imagined, you coming to my games, but it also made me feel sick, knowing this is what could’ve been. What should’ve been. I was nervous the last quarter thinking about what to say to you after the game, but god, Azzi, you couldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to you after the group pic but you disappeared.

Maybe it’s a good time to tell you that Katie and Tim were at my game last week, against the Mystics. I’m gonna be honest, when I saw they were there, I avoided them, and I’m not proud of it. I ran to my car straight after the presser but somehow they found where I parked and were waiting next to it?? If this was a different circumstance I would’ve laughed.

All they told me was great game before I started crying. I don’t even know what came over me. But your mom hugged me and that made me cry even harder. They told me I was their daughter no matter what, and they loved me. I wrote it down as soon as I left because I didn’t ever wanna forget.

Azzi, we didn’t even marry each other like we promised, and I still feel like we left a broken family. I didn’t mean for this many people to get hurt, for this many relationships to shatter because ours did.

It makes forgetting you so much harder, and that’s what pisses me off. That I’ve injured my knee and gone through months of rehab and moved across the country to a brand new city, yet this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 2nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I was calling KK again and I didn’t ask about you this time. I think I’m making some progress.

Arike keeps trying to get me with some of her friends, but it still doesn’t feel right. I think I need a little bit more time.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 20, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I turn 24 today. Damn I feel old. I’ve spent a third of my life now loving you.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 22nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I just got your present in the mail. You didn’t have to. I love it. Thank you.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 11, 2025

Happy birthday big head. I think you probably received my gift by now. I debated on writing a card, but you didn’t write me one, and I’ve decided to leave the cards (haha) in your hand. So I’m just following your lead. I hope you enjoy 23.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 7, 2025

Azzi,

Hell of a game yesterday. Proud of you. National player of the year performance

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 5, 2026

Az,

LET’S FUCKING GOOOO. Shit, man. Two peat natty champs??? Unbelievable. My hands are tweaking out, I can’t even read my own handwriting. I knew you could do it, Az. Thank you for not forcing me to wear irish merch..I never look good in green like you do

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 13, 2026

Azzi,

Drafted to the Sky????

See you so fucking soon

Nice fit at the draft btw

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 16, 2026

Dear Azzi,

Fuck, the way you smiled at me after that game. Maybe I’ll have the courage to finally text you. I know it’s probably not the best idea but…I still regret everything. It’s been a little bit more than a year and it still hurts as bad as it did the first day. Is this normal?

Love,

Paige

[myeagleexpert]

Yan!Batfamily x Singer!YN (neglected)

Inspired by @@gotham-daydreams's fic, your work is wonderful and makes me think about many things…. One of the things I think about is if they found Reader from her music…. Reader here is heavily inspired by Naomi Jon, she is an independent singer from Germany, she regularly makes videos on youtube about makeup, shopping on websites, tiktok foods, things like that. She is a very fun person to watch and I highly recommend you watch it, all her videos are in English. (one detail is that she doesn’t talk much about her family, and lives with her friend Vincent and boyyy every time I read about Reader from Not [ ] fics I remember her. If you disagree, that’s okay, I still like the idea of ​​YN’s glow up <3) “Have you seen, come and read my diary Then you will see, that you don’t mean shit to me” – MANTRA- Naomi Jon

I imagine that while shopping at a store, Steph liked the store’s playlist and went to look for who was singing it.

Imagine her face when she finds out that the person she was listening to… was the YN everyone was looking for. She immediately discovers her YouTube channel, social media… and everyone immediately starts binge-watching and stalking all of her videos

Dick would be the type of person who would learn the choreography for your music videos, just to dance with you. He swears he can be the fun older brother you need, he can be in your videos too! And cook! I don't think he wears makeup, but he would watch all your makeup videos because he likes your reviews, and when you make a joke or mix up the language in the video he finds it so funny that he can't help but laugh. He wants to test out the latest skincare products with you and wants to travel together! You look so different now, with bold eyeliner and colorful hair, Dick wonders if you've always been like this and he was just blind because he didn't see it. Come on, he didn't know you had this fun and easygoing side, let's spend more time together, okay?

“This dress deserves… THE BUSINESS WALK!”

Jason sees how you've grown, and how much better you are away from Gotham. Like a flower that blooms only when it's in a clean and suitable environment, you've brilliantly transformed into who you are. But a part of him, the biggest part, thinks you'd be much safer around your family, where they can protect you. You sing and post so many videos on the internet, what if someone comes after you? Let your brother stay close, okay? And who is this friend who lives with you anyway? He is not trustworthy - no. It doesn't matter if you've known him since you were kids and have lived together for a long time. Another thing I bet he would do is join you on the days when you dye your hair in the craziest ways possible, he has some experience with dye, you know?

“C’mon FriendReader, this is the plan for this hair dyeing technique. Yes, all seven colors are here!”

For those who neglected Reader and pretended you didn't exist, he is your #01 Fan now. Tim definitely listens to ALL your music, and is 100% connected to your social networks. He watches and rewatches all your videos, they are so interactive and relaxed that he has the illusion that he is living it all with you. He's the type of person who eats while watching your videos, and watches them before bed, and when he's having a particularly stressful situation he'll lock himself in his room and watch one of your vlogs, because your voice has such a calming effect of normality that for him, it's like at any moment you'll open his door asking to try a 2-ingredient recipe you saw on TikTok.

“Timothyyy~ try this recipe I saw on tik tok!”

Damian is an interesting case… because he discovered that his precious blood brother has a side to him that he never saw. When he walked into your room and looked at all your memories, all your pictures of your achievements, all your music sketches he KNEW you were talented, but when he saw you in action in your videos and shows it was like a cartoon character came to life. YOU came to life! Definitely buy all your merch, and talk about you all the time to John. Do you still have two cats?? Enough, the kidnapping is you and them two.

“My next show will be…”

Bruce goes back and rereads your journal drafts and realizes how much your music has really changed, your focus now being only on your fans and not your family. Like everyone else in the family, he watches your videos daily and keeps thinking “I could give her a bigger box of surprises so she can record a video” “Did she think that dress was pretty? I could buy her a better one, shinier and pinker, just like she wanted.” When you post a video of the backstage of a show and all your lively preparations, he can’t help but feel guilty for the thousandth time that day. He should be by your side right now, a father should be behind the scenes giving you comfort and strength to go on the show. He should be in the front row cheering when you realized your dream of going on stage for the first time. The whole family should… You’re trying so hard, your dedication is palpable in your videos and shows. The little girl grew up and became a dreamy woman, but who do you run to when you need to cry? Let him be your comforting shoulder now, let him come into your life again.

“I made this song especially for you, my fans!”

When Alfred put that video of YN’s childhood on TV, where she performed in a school play, to remind everyone of her absence, he couldn’t be more proud of his work when weeks later he hears her voice coming from one of the boys’ rooms. It's you singing one of the songs, the batboy repeating it for the tenth time. Your voice has changed, from a childish and angelic voice to a woman's, your looks have gradually gained confidence and personality, but your “presence” in the mansion is ghostly. He feels so happy for you, you are externalizing to the world what he has always seen: that you are incredible. Alfred doesn't need to marathon your videos to feel closer to you, he already has affectionate memories, he already has albums from when you were a baby and tested recipes with him, he already has videos of you training to sing when you were little… But he still watches your videos because unfortunately, even with him you lost contact. He watches the videos like a grandfather watches his grandson's stories “Oh? Are you in Tokyo now? How wonderful, dear, remember the coat.” “Oh dear YN, I don't think this recipe will be good for you…” “Yn, be careful with the scams on these strange websites!”

“Guys, I know what you’re thinking… BUT maybe combining onion and chocolate CAN work.”

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

"All I ever wanted was to love you, none of that other shit matters."

This is #3 out of 10 of my Phrase Series, hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Thank you @paigereeder for the phrase!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Author's Note: I am soooo sorry for the long wait! I couldn't come up with a way to end this one... hope you all enjoy! ❤️ sorry if it sucks 😬

*JEY USO'S NEW GIRLFRIEND*

Reply 1: can i just start this off by saying.... she's not ugly... just not what I was expecting for Jey.. 😬

Reply 2: omg THIS! I thought it was just me who thought this!

Reply 3: nah, she ugly as hell 😭. He can do so much better.

Reply 4: she funny looking. Like her face is off to me.

Reply 5: Have y'all noticed that Trinity and Almia don't follow her, but she follows them 😬

Reply 6: tryna get in wit the fam and they don't even like you 🤣🫵🏽

Reply 7: ew 🤢

Reply 8: can we talk about her username too? official.savannah??! bitch don't nobody know you 😭

“Bae?” Savannah jumped and hurriedly closed her laptop as Josh entered their home. She tried to force a smile on her face as he came into the living room. She set her laptop down on the couch next to her and stood up to greet her boyfriend of 10 months. She wasn’t his new anything.  “I missed you.” He said as he pulled her into a tight hug. 

“Missed you too.” She muttered back, just as he pressed his lips against hers in a sweet and soft kiss. As Josh pulled away, his gaze softened as he studied her face.

“Are you okay?” He asked his voice soft as he cupped her face in his hands. She nodded, but the knot in her stomach tightened. They don’t see me like you do. They don’t know what it’s like. The trolls, the fans, all the judgment she couldn’t escape—every comment, every whispered opinion weighed heavy on her. She wasn’t used to feeling small, but lately, it seemed like every time she logged onto her social media, she saw something that made her question whether she belonged in his world.

“I’m fine,” She said before clearing her throat. “Just tired.” 

“You wanna stay in tonight? I can call Twin and tell him we can all go out another day.”  

Savannah wanted to stay in so bad. She just wanted to snuggle on the couch with her man and watch shitty horror movies all night, but she knew he was looking forward to hanging out with his twin brother and sister-in-law. Since Josh was on RAW and Jon and Trinity were on SmackDown, they barely got to see each other. 

“No. It’s fine. I know you were looking forward to spending time with your brother. I’m fine.” 

Josh stared at her before nodding. “Aight cool. Imma go shower… you wanna join?” He smirked, pulled her towards him, and placed his head in the crook of her neck.  Savannah let out a sigh of pleasure and tilted her head to the side to give him more access. When he pulled back, she bit her lip and nodded her head, she let out a loud laugh when he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, all but running up the steps towards their bathroom. 

official.savannah_

liked by uceyjucey and 800 others

official.savannah: 💫💙

view all comments

user: girl! I need to get in your chair ASAP!

jeyusofan2: not... what I expected lmao.

yeet_2025: I mean.. if you squint she's cute.

user: this girl pretty as hell! fuk yall talking about!!!

Savannah tried to have a good night out with her man and his family. But whenever she caught herself genuinely having fun, she remembered the comments she read earlier. While she knew nobody on that chat forum or her Instagram comments knew her or her relationship with Josh, she just couldn’t get past how some of what they said felt true. Almia and Trinity did not follow her on any social media platforms, and while it was not that big of a deal, Savannah couldn’t help but wonder why. 

“You good?” Josh’s voice whispering in her ear brought her out of her thoughts. She turned her head towards him and forced a smile on her face. 

“Never better, " she said, and Josh furrowed his eyebrows. But before he could say anything, Trinity spoke up. 

“Sis, how’s work? I've been trying to get in to get my hair done, but you be booked and busy chile.”  

For the first time that night, a genuine smile came over Savannah’s features. “Booked ain’t the word.” They both laugh. “But you know I got you. Just give me a heads up and I can squeeze you in.” 

Josh noticed Savannah’s empty cup so he got up and went over to the bar to get her and himself another drink, Jon followed suit. Trinity and Savannah sat there, the awkward silence slicing through the air. Clearing her throat, Savannah pulled her phone out of her clutch and opened Instagram. She was about to post a picture of herself on her story but a new story from Trinity piqued her interest. 

Savannah clicked on the story and felt her heart drop into her stomach. It was a picture the four of them took earlier. Trinity was tucked up in Jon’s arm, a big smile on her face as he gazed down at her. Josh was standing next to Jon, a smile on his face and that was it. Where she was supposed to be, next to Josh holding his hand. She wasn’t in the picture. She had been cropped out. 

“Girl you okay?”  

Savannah nodded, her gaze still on her phone. They were right. That voice in her head shouted. His family hates you, you’re not good enough for him. You should just k- Savannah abruptly stood from her seat, startling Trinity. 

“I’m - I need some fresh air.” She muttered, not giving Trinity a second glance as she rushed out of the restaurant. She could hear Josh call out her name but she ignored him. Savannah’s heart pounded in her chest as she hurried through the doors of the restaurant, the cool night air hitting her like a slap in the face. 

She didn't care that she was running away from everything, from him, from the life she thought she was building. She couldn’t handle it anymore. The suffocating weight of her insecurities was too much—his family, the comments, the picture she had seen earlier. It was all too much. Her mind kept spiraling, those dark thoughts clawing at the edges of her sanity. They hate you. You’re not good enough for him. Why are you even here?

Savannah gasped as she leaned against a wall in the alleyway. Her hand coming up to her chest as she tried to catch her breath. 

“V!?” She heard Josh call out, “Savannah?!”  Josh’s voice was closer now, frantic, as he rounded the corner into the alley. His eyes locked onto her immediately, and there was no hiding the worry on his face.

“Baby? What happened? Did Trin say something, cause I’ll-” 

“No.” She cut him off with a shake of her head. “Trinity didn’t say anything.” She looked up and him with tears pouring out her eyes. “I - I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough.” 

Josh’s eyes widened, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Whatchu’ talkin’ bout? What happened?” 

“I’m not… I’m not the woman for you, you need someone prettier, someone who your family loves, someone who -” 

“Someone like you.” Josh cut her off. “You are who I want. There is no-one prettier than you Savannah and my family loves you. You’re the first person my mom asks about when we’re on the phone.”  Josh cupped her face in his hands. “Where is all this coming from? 

Savannah sighed. She unlocked her phone and pulled up the webpage she knew by memory. She took one more look at the comments before passing Josh the phone. He took it with a confused look on his face. But that look quickly morphed into anger. 

“Man, what the fuck is this?” Josh asked, still scrolling. “Why they talkin’ about you like this?” 

Savannah shrugged. “They’re your fans.” Josh scoffed. “Someone sent me the link in my DM a couple weeks ago…” 

‘Hey, look at me.” Josh put her phone in his pocket and cupped her jaw in his hands,focring her head up so she was looking at him. “This does not matter to me. None of this shit matters to me Savannah. The only thing that matters is you. These people don’t know you. They don’t know us. I know you. And I know what I feel for you. It doesn’t change based on what some random assholes on the net gotta’ say.” 

“Josh -” 

“No.” Josh cut her off. “All I ever wanted was to love you, none of this other shit matters.” 

“But what about your family? Seems like they don’t want me around.” 

Josh scoffed and reared his head back. “Did you not hear what I said about my momma earlier? Trinity kept texting me this whole week to make sure you were still coming out with us. My family loves you Savannah. Whatever they saying on the net…” Josh trailed off with a sigh. “You can’t believe that shit. I know first hand. If I listened to what they had to say I would be a certified jobber right now.” 

Savannah let out a shaky breath, feeling a knot in her stomach loosen slightly at Josh's words. “Okay, but what about this?” She asked, reaching into his pocket and grabbing her phone. Josh watched as she pulled up the photo Trinity had posted on her Instagram. “Why would she crop me if she wanted me around?” 

“Because I asked her too.” 

Savannah’s eyes widened in shock. “You what -” 

“Lemme explain baby. I shit- I know my fans hardcore as fuck. Shit, wrestling fans push it. They wanna know all about my personal life and I wanted to keep you far from that.” Josh sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Looks like I failed tho.” 

Savannah stared into his eyes. Her heart swelling as she saw nothing but love and adoration in them. “You were just trying to protect me. I can’t say I understand all of it, but I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.” She paused, her thumb gently tracing the back of his hand. “But I need to be in this with you, Josh. I can’t just be something you keep in the background. I need to feel like I belong... like I’m a part of your world. Not just a secret that you keep hidden.”

“You could never be a secret to me baby. You’re my world.” 

Savannah felt another wave of tears coming, but not of sadness this time. She was filled with pure joy and happiness. She loved Josh. And in that moment, as he held her close, all the doubts, the insecurities, and the fears she had been carrying began to fade away.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Josh’s grip on her tightened slightly, his smile soft and genuine. “I love you too, Savannah. More than you’ll ever know.”

uceyjucey

liked by official.savannah, trinity_fatu and 800,000 others.

uceyjucey: if u aint rocking w/ her then u ain't rocking wit me. I luv y'all fr but I love her more. We both see that shit yall be posting on the net and dat shit not cool.

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trinity_fatu: talk your shit brother!

jeyusofan2: but we can see she not good for u!

↳ uceyjucey: @jeyusofan2: how u kno if she good 4 me or not? yall gotta stop fr.

official.savannah: love you baby

↳ uceyjucey: @ official.savannah: luv u more ❤️

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[ellswritings]

In My Corner

(Part 1), Part 2, (Part 3), (Part 4)

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: Angst, flirty tension, Josh being a good bestie, Colby being overly protective, emotional damage frfr, flashback to 2008.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling @scream4mami (Lmk if you wanna be tagged)

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

“Girl, you better slow down,” Trinity warns Y/N as she slides into the chair next to her on her and Jon’s hotel room balcony. Y/N has downed at least three bottles of beer within the past hour and a half. Now, everyone in the room is drinking as the party down in the lobby from Survivor Series is still in full swing, but no one is as emotionally charged as Y/N. And that plus some alcohol spells disaster for everyone. “You still gotta be able to get up in the morning to drive over to the next town.”

“I’m fine, Trin…” Y/N waves her off, finally setting her now fourth halfway empty bottle of beer. “I just need to take the edge off.”

“Hun, he’s not even here,” Bianca soothes her as she joins her two friends outside. “He’s probably downstairs with the rest of ‘em. It’s only us up here.”

“It still doesn’t change the fact he’s back,” she grumbles. “I’ve gone ten years without speaking to the man and he just waltzes back in here with that stupid look on his face and it’s like I’m twenty-six all over again.” She once again grabs the neck of the bottle before taking another swig. “He didn’t even say anything to me and it’s like I got the wind knocked out of my lungs. The moment we made eye contact I forgot how to breathe.”

“That’s normal,” Trinity reached over to grab her hand. “You guys were close for a real long time and then he just left. It’s normal to feel that kinda hurt. And I know you blame yourself sayin’ you coulda defended him, but he also should have supported you.”

“She’s right, babe,” Bianca nods. “You guys were best friends. He should’ve been okay with your decision. You shouldn’t feel like you’re in the wrong around him.”

“And I know there’s plenty of people in here that’ll back us up on that,” Trinity adds with raised eyebrows as she subtly nods back into the room.

Joe, Jon, Josh, Colby, Montez, and a few of the others they invited over are laughing just a few feet away. The conversation flowed freely between all of them. Y/N watches with a faint smile as Colby tilts his head back, his cackle booming throughout the small space. He has the most infectious smile. When his head returns to its regular position, he feels her eyes on him from across the room. He glances out to the patio, his own soft grin taking over his face as he notices her stare. He raises his hand slightly, waving at her in a playful manner which only makes her giggle in response.

“You have that man wrapped around your finger,” Trinity laughs as she watches the exchange. “I don’t even remember the last time Jon looked at me like that.”

“Girl, I know you ain’t talkin’ shit bout me,” Jon waltzes up to the three women, a wide smile on his face as he greets his wife. Josh follows his twin in tow along with Montez who goes to kiss his own wife on the head. “All I do is love yo ass.”

“Oh hush,” Trin playfully slaps her man’s chest. “I’m just sayin’ that Y/N and Colby have a cute friendship, that’s all.”

“Really?” Josh chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Friendship’s really how we gon’ label that?” He points between Y/N and Colby who is still sneaking glances at her from inside despite being deep in a conversation with Joe.

“That’s exactly what I’d call it,” Y/N fires back with a pointed look, still a playful smile on her face.

Jon kisses the back of Trinity’s head, “It just pisses me off that he walks back in here like nothing happened,” he mumbles against her hair. “And he really just looked right at you? Didn’t say nothing?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just looked and then we left. Joe insists he was gonna walk up to me, but I don’t think so.” She glances down at her feet, “Phil’s never been the type to converse with someone he’s been hurt by… unless it’s to confront them.”

“Yeah, well, good luck wit that shit,” Josh chuckles. “We got yo back mama, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Y/N smiles at them softly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Jon nods confidently. “You part of the family. If he thinks he can mess with you, he’s in fo an ass kickin’.”

“Guys…” Bianca calls out with a sheepish look on her face. “I hate to break this up,” she sends Y/N a sympathetic glance, “But Tez and I wanted to see if it’d be alright if we head back downstairs?” She keeps eye contact with Y/N, “We won’t leave if you don’t want us to. I know tonight was hard for you.”

Y/N shakes her head, laughing. “B, you can do whatever you want.” She smiles fondly at her close friend, “I’m not here to hold anyone hostage. If you guys wanna go downstairs, you should go. I don’t wanna ruin yall’s night.”

“Then why don’t you come down with us?” Trinity suggests.

Y/N’s face contorts into one of hesitancy as she takes another sip of her beer. The thought of going downstairs where she knows he is suddenly sobers her up. “‘Cause I’ll just be anxious the whole damn time. I don’t want to be like that.”

“Babygirl, we already said we gotchu,” Josh insists. “One of us will be wit you at all times,” he assures. “And I’m sure your lapdog would be happy to cling to you for the rest of the night,” he jokes, nodding over to Seth.

Y/N mulls it over as they stare at her expectantly. She certainly wouldn’t mind being able to party with her friends on a night where she got the winning pin. She also doesn’t want to be that person that keeps everyone else from having fun. She briefly glances towards Colby, knowing he won’t leave her side. And frankly, neither will Joe.

“C’mon,” Trin grabs her hand, squeezing it softly. “You look way too pretty tonight to be lettin’ him of all people get you. You said you don’t wanna ruin our night, then don’t let him ruin yours.”

Y/N sees the pleading look in all their eyes and finally feels her resolve cracking. She sighs, tilting her head back with a defeated grin on her face. She’s never felt more loved in her life, “Fine…” she drawls. “I guess I can suck it up.”

“Yes!” Bianca exclaims in celebration as she and Tez high five each other.

Everyone else smiles, Josh getting out of his seat to help Y/N out of hers. “Thas what I’m talkin’ about.” He pulls her up gently, “Let’s get yo fine ass outta here.”

Y/N allows him to guide her back inside the room, the rest of the group following after them. Colby furrows his eyebrows as he watches everyone come in. “Woah,” his eyes fall on Y/N, “Where’s the fire?” He asks playfully.

“On the dance floor,” Trinity backs it up onto Bianca as they laugh loudly. Y/N snickers along with them when she notices the confused look on both Colby and Joe’s faces.

“They convinced me to go downstairs,” she explains, trying to muster up her most nonchalant shrug.

Both of them grow increasingly more concerned. Joe takes a step forward, “Are you sure you wanna do that?” He asks her gently.

“Yeah, Y/N/N…” Colby trails off. “Will you be comfortable doing that?”

Y/N placed her hands on each of their arms, giving them an affirming squeeze. “I’ll be fine… as long as you guys come with?” She looks between them hopefully.

It takes them a moment, both of them looking at each other as if silently communicating. There’s a moment of silence before Joe turns back to Y/N, wrapping his arm around her. “Of course we’ll go with you,” he confirms, kissing the top of her head like a brother would his sister.

“If you’re sure,” Colby checks in one last time, still not fully convinced.

Y/N’s expression softens, not able to tear her eyes away from his as she nods in confirmation. “I’m sure.”

He looks for any sign of hesitation, but when he finds none, he ultimately gives in. He exhales softly before throwing his hands up, “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get outta here!”

Everyone walked out of the room in celebration. It was probably best for her to go downstairs and be with all her friends anyway. It’ll be good for the company and good for her image. She still has the women’s undisputed championship so she should at least make an appearance.

Once they make it downstairs, everything is still in full swing. Lights are flashing everywhere, the music is pumping, hyping everyone up for the late night ahead. Y/N smiles as she watches Pam run up to her with a large smile on her face. She pulls the woman into a hug, “You made it!”

Y/N giggles, nodding her head. “Figured I’d bless everyone with my presence.”

“Well, then let’s get this party started!” She exclaims before pulling her towards the center of the room where a majority of the superstars and some guests are dancing. Pamela yells for Bianca and Trinity to follow, the two women leaving their husbands to join their friends on the floor.

Y/N shoots Colby an apologetic look as she’s torn away from him. He smiles, mouthing for her to just have fun. No one was expecting her to actually make it out of the room, not with Phil lurking around. But it was nice seeing her be so brave, standing up to that part of her life that she’s tried to block out for so long.

The bass throbbed in Y/N’s chest as she was pulled deeper into the sea of dancing bodies. The lights spun above her, casting flashes of electric blue and crimson across the faces of the crowd. She felt the beat surge through her veins, buzzing in her ears as the music consumed her.

Pamela twirled dramatically, pulling Y/N into a full spin that made her laugh, already starting to loosen up. Trinity and Bianca joined seconds later, each of them moving in sync, hips swaying in a rhythm they didn’t need to practice. It was like muscle memory—these girls had been her sisters in arms for years now. They knew how to command a dance floor just as well as they did a ring.

Y/N threw her head back, the laughter bubbling out of her lips. Her body moved instinctively—hips rolling, hands sliding into her hair, back arching to the rhythm. Her sequined top shimmered under the lights as she twisted in time with the music, every movement fluid, confident, electric.

She had almost forgotten why she hesitated to come down here in the first place.

Almost.

From across the room, Colby was frozen in place.

He had just been mid-sentence with Joe when his eyes caught on her. Everything else vanished. Her body moved like the music had been made for her alone—like every beat was chasing the rhythm of her hips. His jaw clenched unconsciously, head tilting slightly to the side. She was radiant, glowing, alive.

“Damn…” he muttered under his breath, drawing a knowing glance from Joe.

“You could at least pretend you’re not staring,” Joe teased, nudging him with his shoulder.

Colby didn’t even flinch. “Yeah, I’m not capable of that.”

Back on the dance floor, Y/N felt the shift in atmosphere. Eyes were on them now—but not in a judgmental way. It was admiration. She and the girls had a presence, a magnetic force that pulled attention like gravity.

Her body moved like she was born for the rhythm—every roll of her hips sharp, deliberate, confident. The dress clung to her curves and shimmered like liquid under the lights, drawing attention whether she meant to or not. Her heels clicked as she dropped it low, smooth and fluid, before arching back up with a sway that made several heads turn—including Joshua Fatu’s.

“Daaaamn, shawty,” he let out with a low whistle, adjusting his snapback and sliding through the crowd toward her like a shark in water. “You tryna make somebody fall in love tonight or what?”

Y/N turned her head just enough to smirk over her shoulder, not stopping her rhythm. “Just tryin’ to dance, baby. You can hang or you can watch.”

Joshua grinned wide, tongue flicking across his bottom lip. “Say less.”

He slid in behind her, hands hovering respectfully near her waist but not touching. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrists, placing them where she wanted them—right on her hips.

“Boy, don’t play shy now.”

That was all he needed. He moved with her, matching her sway, letting the beat take them both. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, hips grinding slow and heavy, teasing but familiar. It wasn’t romantic. It was just that good old-fashioned, talk-your-shit-and-dance kind of vibe they always had.

“You still dance mean as hell,” Joshua murmured with a grin, low in her ear.

Y/N popped her hips in response, throwing it back just a little harder. “And you still flirt like you mean it.”

“Who said I don’t?” he fired back with a chuckle. “You fine as fuck tonight, girl.” He leaned in, his voice a low drawl against the music. “You know, if I wasn’t already emotionally committed to food and naps, I’d be proposing right now.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed. “You flirt with me like you’re not scared of Colby seeing.”

Josh spun her, then caught her again with a grin. “That man don’t scare me.” He looked over her shoulder, clearly aware of Colby’s eyes boring holes through his back. “Well… maybe just a little.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said with a warm smile, resting her hand gently on his chest.

“But I’m your idiot,” he winks, dipping her smoothly as his hand squeezes her hip playfully. “I gotta say mama, you’re nothin’ but trouble. Might just let you ruin my life if you keep movin’ the way you do.”

“You always lay it on this thick with everyone,” Y/N teases, placing her hand delicately on his chest. The music slows, allowing her to move with him as the intensity increases.

“Yeah, but not like this,” Josh replied with an earnest tone that lingered in the air.

Before she could respond, a firm hand tapped Josh’s shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Colby’s voice was casual, but the fire behind his eyes wasn’t. He didn’t wait for an answer.

Josh glanced at Y/N, eyebrows raised in exaggerated mockery. “Whatcha think, princess? Want me or Prince Charming?”

Y/N smiled, biting her lip. “I think I can spare a dance.”

Josh threw up his hands in surrender. “She’s all yours, Lopez. Just remember though, I laid the groundwork.”

Colby stepped in, his hands settling carefully on her waist. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, the tension between them suddenly thick and electric. They moved slower than the beat, like the world around them had melted away. Colby leaned in just slightly, his breath brushing against her ear.

“You were really out there showing off, huh?” His voice was low, rough.

Y/N smiled against his shoulder. “Just dancing.”

“You know what you’re doing,” he murmured. “And it’s driving me insane.”

The comment sent a chill up her spine. Her body moved closer on instinct, their hips falling into sync. Around them, people started whistling and shouting. A small circle had formed, watching the way she dropped and moved up slowly, her body grazing his like they were two magnets finally locking into place.

Colby’s hands slid down just a little lower, holding her like he never wanted to let go. “You always dance like this?” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her skin.

“Only when I’m trying to get someone’s attention,” she answered without thinking.

He chuckled, eyes gleaming. “You’ve got it. Trust me.”

Her stomach flipped as his hand drifted to her hip, guiding her into a rhythm that matched the music. The tension between them was electric—an unspoken challenge, a push and pull of something they weren’t quite naming yet.

All around them, whistles and cheers started to erupt. Their friends were hyping them up, chanting playful jabs, but neither of them looked away.

“You know they’re watching,” she murmured, close to his ear.

“I know,” Colby replied, his voice low. “I don’t care.”

She smirked, leaning into him just slightly, letting herself go with the music. Her hips brushed his just enough to keep things teasing, and she felt his hand tighten briefly in response.

The air between them crackled like live wire, and they stayed locked like that—bodies close, breaths mingling, until the music shifted into a slower, more intimate tempo.

That’s when the DJ announced the last call. People started heading out, gathering coats and finishing drinks. The party was winding down. Soft music still played in the background, but it wouldn’t for long. Y/N felt herself growing tired. It had to have been about an hour and a half, maybe longer since coming down. She felt her social battery draining more and more, not that she minded dancing with Colby. In fact, she would stay with him all night if she was just a tad more drunk. But a part of her brain is still conscious enough not to put anything in jeopardy, or to start any rumors.

“I should head back to my room,” Y/N said, a little breathless as they finally stepped apart.

“Want me to walk you up?” Colby asked, voice softer now.

She smiled, touched by the offer. She runs her fingers up and down his chest, looking in his eyes with nothing but genuine admiration. “I’ll be okay. You stay and hang with everyone a little longer.”

He watched her carefully, then nodded. “Alright. But text me when you’re safe, yeah?”

She gave him a thumbs-up over her shoulder as she slipped out of the party. She pulls her phone out, checking the time. Her eyes widened when she realized how late it truly is. She was planning on going to the gym in the morning, but maybe the afternoon would be a bit better after her long night.

Suddenly Y/N’s phone buzzes. She pulls it out and smiles softly when Colby’s name pops up. It’s a photo of him and Joe with fake pouty faces, the words ‘miss you already’ written underneath. Their silly behavior never fails to make her grin. Her fingers fly over the keys rapidly, teasing him for being so clingy as she rounds the corner to enter the elevator hallway.

And that’s when she saw him.

Phil was standing alone, hands in the pockets of his jacket, head slightly bowed until he heard her heels click against the floor. He looked up, and their eyes locked.

The air thickened. Y/N froze in place, expression unreadable. She didn’t know what to do. Her brain short circuits, not able to come up with a solution to this predicament. Half of her wanted to scream at him for all the pain he had caused her these past ten years, but the other part of her wants to rip that tight-fitting, black t-shirt off of him like old times.

Phil didn’t move either. He just stared at her, his mind running a million miles a minute. His eyes rake over her form, despite him warning himself not to fall into the trap that is her beauty again.

She looked… different. Stronger. That dress hugged her like it was made for her, and he’d watched her dance with Colby like he hadn’t existed in her world. Like he never existed. Or maybe like they never met. Like they weren’t partners for a majority of their young career. But the worst part? He couldn’t even be mad. Because he left. And now he was standing here, unable to speak, because the sight of her laughing and glowing and being everything he remembered—without him—was killing him slowly.

She was dancing like no time had passed. Like Colby had always been the one she smiles at like that. But Phil knew better. He knew every version of that smile that was plastered on her face. And that one? That used to be his.

He didn’t come back expecting… anything. He just wanted peace. He wanted a chance to work in the company he dreamed of being. Maybe he even wanted closure, to get rid of that anger he harboured for years. But watching Y/N tonight, watching him with her…

He felt his jaw clench and it didn’t go unnoticed by the woman in front of him.

It felt like a punishment. Like this was her way of getting back at him. But she was never vindictive enough for that. He was always the one in their friendship that stooped low enough for petty revenge.

He thought about stepping forward. About saying her name. But his legs didn’t move.

And then she did.

With a sharp exhale, Y/N turned and pressed the elevator button. She couldn’t face him. Not yet. Not like this.

He watched her step inside, watched the doors begin to close. His fingers twitched, like he might call out.

But he didn’t.

He just stood there, wondering how something he once held so tightly had slipped so far out of reach.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Time moved too fast. Not enough of it was given to those who needed it. The year 2008 felt so long ago. It was a time of fun and excitement for Phil and Y/N. They were young, still rather fresh in the business. They were constantly together, sharing rooms, driving, always stuck with each other. It took a while for Phil to adjust to having her around, but once he did, nights like this became his favorite.

The TV murmured low in the background, but neither of them was watching it. Another night on the road. Another cheap hotel with thin walls and a broken ice machine.

Phil sat propped up against the headboard, glasses on, book open in one hand. He hadn’t turned the page in over ten minutes.

Y/N was lying sideways at the foot of the bed, head dangling over the edge, her hair grazing the carpet. She had one leg thrown lazily over his ankle, like she’d claimed him by default. Not that he was complaining. Not that he ever did.

“You’re being weirdly quiet tonight,” she mused, stretching her arms above her head. “That usually means you're either brooding or plotting.”

Phil didn't look up. “Or maybe I’m just enjoying the peace.”

She snorted. “You calling me peaceful?”

“I said the night is peaceful.” He finally glanced down, mouth twitching. “You? You’re like a raccoon with a caffeine addiction.”

“Wow.” She lifted her head just enough to squint at him. “I give you my best years, and this is the thanks I get?”

“You haven’t even hit your peak yet, sweetheart.” He said it too casually, like it didn’t mean anything. Like the warmth in his voice hadn’t just snuck up on him too.

Y/N paused. For a second, it felt like the air changed.

“I’m bored,” She drops her head back down again. “Tell me a secret.”

Phil’s eyebrows ticked upward. “Why?”

“Because I asked nicely?”

He turned a page he wasn’t reading. “You never ask nicely.”

“Fair. But seriously—come on. You’ve gotta have some deep, brooding Chicago trauma or closet obsession with romantic comedies you haven’t confessed yet.”

Phil didn’t answer.

She rolled over onto her stomach now, chin resting on her arms as she studied him. “C’mon, tell me something good,” she begs with that sweet smile that would make an iceberg melt faster than global warming ever could. “We’ve been partners for almost a year now and I feel like I barely know anything about you besides your name and that you have an affinity for a good pastry.”

“That’s all there is to know,” he shrugs.

“Don’t be like that, Punker,” Y/N exhales dramatically. “Seriously, why won’t you tell me anything personal?”

He shut the book with one hand, finally setting it aside on the nightstand. “That’s because I don’t trust you not to blackmail me with it later.”

Y/N smirks. “I would never.”

“You literally threatened to sell my old promo photos to Cena if I didn’t split my fries with you last week.”

She pointed a finger. “You did look like a vampire in them. I was doing you a favor.”

Phil sighed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re deflecting.” She nudged him with her foot. “Come on. One secret. I promise I won’t sell it for a t-shirt design.”

He looked at her for a long moment. That unreadable stare of his—the one that usually came before he shut the world out. But with her, it always softened just a little.

“I have nightmares,” he said eventually.

The smile slipped from her face.

“Real ones,” he added, quieter. “Not the dumb stress dreams everyone jokes about. Like… bad shit. Stuff from when I was a kid. Stuff that never really goes away.”

Y/N blinked, stunned by the honesty. “You never told me that before.”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “That was kinda the point. It’s a secret.”

Her voice gentled. “Do you still have them?”

“Sometimes.” He hesitated, then added, “Less when you’re here.”

Silence stretched between them, warm this time. A heartbeat. Two.

Then she sat up, suddenly unsure what to do with the weight of it.

“I, uh… guess I owe you one now.”

Phil leaned back against the pillows again, eyes on her. “Yeah. What dirt are you giving me?”

Y/N chewed her lip. “Alright… I used to pretend we were married for the first few months when we traveled together.”

He blinked. “What?”

She laughed, cheeks burning. “Not in a weird way! Just like—booking the hotel, renting a car—sometimes it was easier to say, ‘My husband’s running late’ or whatever. People treated me nicer. Plus it made the logistics easier.”

Phil looked way too smug now. “So, you fantasized about being Mrs. Brooks.”

Y/N grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the face. “No. Shut up. It was practical.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay, your turn again.”

He groaned. “That’s not how this works. I’m not playing thirty questions with you.”

“Well, now you are.” She leaned in a little closer, like daring him to keep pushing. “Or are you afraid I’ll one-up you again?”

He was already looking at her. That quiet intensity he always got when he wasn’t performing for anyone—not the crowd, not the camera, not even her.

“I think about kissing you,” he said.

The air stilled. Y/N’s heart stumbled somewhere behind her ribs.

Phil’s voice was calm. Deliberate. “More than I should. Especially after matches. You get that look—like you’ve been through hell but would do it again—and it just…”

He trailed off, letting the sentence go unfinished.

Y/N swallowed. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“Why didn’t you?” She asks him, her voice filled with curiosity and a bit of something else that neither of them knew what to do with.

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” Phil answers honestly. “Besides, you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

Y/N tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “You really believe that?” She confronts him.

Punk pauses, licking his bottom lip which causes his lip ring to pulse forward slightly. He stares into her eyes, finding her subtle challenge rather adorable. But the more he looks at her, the more that urge arises. So instead he allows his eyes to flicker before clearing his throat.

“I don’t know.”

They stared at each other. The silence said everything else.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The punching bag didn’t stand a chance.

Y/N’s taped fists hit it again and again, dull thuds echoing through the mostly empty gym. Sweat dripped from her brow, her ponytail swaying with every strike. Her knuckles were sore, muscles burning—but she didn’t stop. Not yet.

Not until she could stop hearing his voice in her head.

“I think about kissing you.”

Stop.

Her next hit was harder, the bag swinging wide enough to creak on its chain. She followed it, landed a knee, pivoted, struck again. This wasn’t about technique right now. It was about silence. About control. About not losing her goddamn mind over someone who hadn’t texted her in years but now haunted her like a ghost she didn’t invite.

She was supposed to be over this.

“You know they make therapy for whatever you’re beating out of that thing,” a voice called from behind her.

She turned, wiping her forehead with her forearm, only half-surprised to see Josh leaning against the squat rack, holding a water bottle and grinning like an idiot.

He tossed it to her. She caught it.

“Didn’t know you’d be here today,” she said between breaths, twisting the cap off.

“Didn’t know you were tryna to kill a bag,” he replied, crossing over. “Bad day?”

She shrugged. “Just loud in my head.”

Josh gave her a look that was both understanding and teasing. “So, same as usual.”

She huffed out a tired laugh, then glanced toward the weight benches. “You lifting today?”

“Eventually. Was gonna do legs, but watching you commit first-degree assault on that Everlast makes me think I need to stick around in case you collapse.”

“Wow,” she deadpanned. “Your confidence in me is inspiring.”

He smirked and leaned in slightly. “You usually inspire something in me.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m charming.”

“You’re persistent.”

“Same thing.”

There was an ease between them—something natural. Something good. Josh was the kind of guy who showed up with post-match smoothies and sarcastic commentary, who knew when to push and when to just exist beside her. It was uncomplicated.

But it wasn’t him.

Y/N took another sip of water and turned back toward the bag.

“Seriously,” Josh said, walking around to lean against the padded post, arms folded. “What’s going on?”

She hesitated.

Just say it. Just admit it. Just say he was there. That Phil’s voice in her ear still sounded like a sin she never confessed. That seeing him again cracked something in her ribcage wide open, and now she couldn’t breathe right.

But she just said, “Party hangover.”

Josh raised a brow but didn’t press. “Well, if that’s the case, you’re doin’ it wrong. You should be face down in a breakfast burrito, not sparring wit yo past.”

Her lips twitched at that. He always had a way of cutting through things without slicing her open.

They trained together for a while—light sparring, easy back-and-forths. Nothing intense. Just movement. Just something to quiet her mind.

Later, when she was packing up her bag and slipping on her hoodie, he leaned against the locker next to hers.

“You coming out again tonight? Colby mentioned a few of us might hit that Giodarno’s pizza place.”

She paused, fiddling with her zipper. “Maybe.”

Josh grinned. “That’s a yes.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.”

They walked out together, the Chicago wind nipping at their skin, the lack of sun casting long shadows across the parking lot. They head out to the parking garage together, but Y/N slows as her eyes fall on the same man she’s seen twice in less than twenty-four hours. Two times too many if anyone were to ask her.

She barely blinked when she saw him. Phil stood by the edge of the parking lot, arms still tucked in his jacket pockets, shadowed by the glow of the overhead streetlight. She had half a second to steel herself, to keep the way her heart jerked in check, and then she walked forward like he wasn’t there.

But Phil’s eyes followed her like a spotlight.

Y/N kept her face neutral, jaw tight. She could feel him watching her, weighing something behind that stare. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking back. Not today. Not yet.

“C’mon,” Josh said under his breath, and as they passed Phil, he subtly reached out and pulled her toward him, his arm sliding around her shoulders like it belonged there. Not romantic, not overdone—but deliberate. Protective.

Y/N didn’t fight it.

Her fingers curled around the strap of her gym bag tighter, her throat dry. She didn’t look at Phil, but she felt the heat of his stare like a spotlight. And Josh? He didn’t glance over either. He just walked her to the car like she mattered. Like whatever history haunted her could be kept at bay, even for just one more hour.

When they got to her car, she didn’t say anything at first. Just unlocked the door and tossed her bag inside.

“You good?” Josh asked, his voice low, more serious now.

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N.”

She exhaled through her nose, bracing her hands on the car door, head dipping for just a second.

“I’m fine,” she repeated—quieter, wearier. “Just... not in the mood to start a fight right now. If I look at him one more time I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from saying something I don’t mean.”

“Then don’t.” He stepped beside her, bumping her hip gently with his. “Let me buy you waffles instead.”

She blinked. “Waffles?”

“Yeah. Waffle House. No ghosts there. Just mediocre coffee, greasy food, and old country songs that make me question my life choices.”

She gave a soft laugh despite herself.

“You’re serious?”

Josh smirked. “When have I not been serious about breakfast food?”

She shook her head but slid into the driver’s seat. “You’re paying.”

“Always do.”

It took them about twenty minutes to get to the nearest Waffle House. Y/N smiles as Josh escorts her inside, his hand resting comfortably on her lower back. They were surprised to find the place was practically empty except for a pair of shift workers in a booth and a guy at the counter who looked like he hadn’t slept since Halloween.

Y/N and Josh sat in a booth near the window, the kind with cracked vinyl seats and a sticky tabletop. A waitress named Carla had already dropped off their waters and left them to look at menus they both knew by heart.

Y/N sat curled into the corner, hoodie sleeves tugged down over her hands, her eyes scanning the laminated menu like it held the answers to the universe.

Josh was watching her, chin propped in his palm, elbow on the table.

“You always get the same thing,” he said.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t pretend to explore my options.”

“You gonna order a waffle, extra crispy, bacon, scrambled eggs, no toast.”

She looked up at him. “You memorized my order?”

“I’ve memorized your post-match rants, your pre-workout routine, and how you get annoyed when people say ‘your guys’ instead of ‘your team.’ So yeah, the order was easy.”

Y/N smirked. “You’re such a simp.”

“Girl you best watch yo mouth,” he chuckles. “I’m just a very cool and emotionally intelligent best friend who happens to know how you like yo bacon.”

That earned him a soft laugh. She looked down again, twirling her straw.

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” she said, almost absentmindedly.

“I know,” he replied. “Doesn’t mean I’m gon stop.”

Her eyes flicked up, meeting his. And for a second, it wasn’t quite playful—it was just quiet. Warm. Like the inside of a hoodie on a winter morning. Safe.

Josh leaned back as Carla came over to take their orders, his usual banter sliding easily back into place.

But Y/N felt it linger—the reminder that someone still saw her. Even in her silence. Even in her mess.

And maybe that was enough to make the memory of Phil sting just a little bit less.

[luuvprincess]

✰࿎6࿎✰

Omniscient

A day had passed since Sierra and Jey's little argument. She was finally home after her flight being delayed then cancelled and delayed again. She walked into her apartment. She was serious when she said she booked her flight back home. Joshua was blowing up her phone with texts messages asking where she was, he even had trinity and Jon texting her. She texted them back letting them know she was fine to tell Joshua to stop blowing up her phone.

"Uhh hey girl what are you doing home early?" Imani asked as she walked out her bedroom after getting a notification on her phone that someone entered the house. "Girl I got tea but let me take shower first." "Oh okay I'll wait."

Sierra walked into her room putting her suit case and bags in the corner for now, she put her phone on the charger and hopped in the shower.

Meanwhile...

Joshua was beyond pissed off, with everything at work plus everything that just happened with him Sierra, everything he had planned was ruined him and Jon had both took a a couple days off and decided to surprise the girls with a little 3 days vacation to the Bahamas.

As soon as he got home he tried calling Sierra again, she just wouldn't answer. So he took a quick shower changed his clothes and got in his car and drove to her house. 15 mins later he arrived at her apartment.

little mama 😻

Joshua💋 : come outside mama

Little mama 😻:?

Little mama 😻: wym come outside?

Joshua💋: come downstairs so we can talk

Read @7:23pm

Sierra shows Imani her phone so she could see what was happening she told her everything that happened that day. "Girl go downstairs and talk to your man." She say. "I don't want too." Sierra complained.

"Your only avoiding him because that bitch boy Jashawn so but things are different Sierra, I can tell Jey makes you happy girl you be glowing." Imani said.

"I don't know mani honestly I'm just scared I don't wanna fall to deep and boom it's another shit ass relationship. Don't me wrong you are right he does make me happy but sometimes I have my doubts." Sierra expressed.

"So tell him that don't hold back because your gonna fuck it up for yourself." Imani says. Sierra let out a sigh just as another message came through.

Joshua💋: You got 2 mins to bring ya ass down here or imma come up there myself

"Go Cece before that man come up here." Imani said. Sierra got up walking towards the door putting her Yeezy slides on. "I'll be back." "See you to tomorrow." Imani said Sierra flipped her off walking out the apartment.

Joshua was sitting in his car parked facing the door waiting for Sierra to walk out. He had the AC on low. Sierra walked out her apartment building she looking around for Jey's car. Spotting his black 2025 cadillac CT4-V black wings she walked up to the car and got in.

"Really you gonna get up in my car with that attitude?" Jey asked as he got a good look at her face. She had a nasty mug on her face her arms folded. "Your being a brat Cece." He said.

"What are we talking about?" She asked. "This right here. This attitude Sierra you booked your flight Monday night and left remember? I told you to go back to room but what you do? You left the city, I should really fire your ass." He says.

"I did you a way better favor but go ahead and fire me." She says as she continues to mumbling under her breath.

"No you just added more shit on my plate." He tells her. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Why'd you start that shit Cece? She ain't say nothing to you." He says.

"First of all I did not start nothing, she started it and Why are you arguing for her? Where was all this energy at when you let that bitch talk to me crazy." She asked him.

"I'm not arguing for nobody, I'm just tryna figure out a why your so mad that you left the city instead of going to the hotel like I ask you to." Jey says

"Is there history I should about that yall have?" She asked him. "This ain't about me right now Sierra it's about you."  He says.

"It is about you it's about us so what the hell are you talking about nigga?" She asked. "So imma ask you again and if you don't answer I'm leaving, Is there or is there not history between yall that I should know about?" She asked again.

They looked at each, the eye contact was strong. Sierra shook her head laughing to herself as she began to open the door. "Aye hell nah Sierra stay ass right here." As he reached over to close the door. She rolled her eyes causing him to suck his teeth. "Stop that shit Sierra, is this what you use to do with him?" He asked.

"Boy please fuck him and fuck you too honestly you really wasted your time coming all the way over here." She said as started getting out the car again , Jey grabbed her arm pulling her back in and shutting door locking it on child lock.

"Stop Sierra I said wanted to talk to you about it not fucking argue cuz that's not what we finna do in this relationship you mad about something tell me don't go running off with a attitude cuz I'm not going nowhere baby girl." He tells her holding her arms on her sides so she wouldn't try to leave to car.

"Let me go Joshua. She said. "Not till you calm down." "I am calm let me go." He shook his head as he looked at her face she was far from calm she so pissed off.

"Joshua you got 2.5 seconds to get ya hands off me." She said. "Whatchu gonna do pretty girl? Huh?" He asked.

"Y'all nigga everything a joke." She tells him. "Who's y'all?" He asked.

"You and every other nigga in this world all yall some goofy ass little boys that take everything as a joke." She said.

"Watch your mouth."

She rolled her eyes again letting out a deep sigh. "Are we done? I got shit to do." She asked.

"We far from done. You still got this ugly nasty attitude, and you acting like a fucking brat and you wanna call me a little boy and you throwing tantrums over nothing." He said.

"Over nothing? Let me go I needa get the fuck out this car like right now before I crash the fuck out."

Josh chuckled to himself. Her neck snapped in his direction as she also began to laugh to herself.

"Actually Mr. fatu I quit and Joshua we're done you don't wanna take this shit serious then I'm cool off you. Find you a new assistant and find you a new toy to play with matter fact ask that bitch from training room whatever the fuck her name was."

"Sierra ion wanna hear that shit you ain't going nowhere. You making yourself mad asking questions you already know the answer to. Yes me and Jaida have history but it after my divorce but I told you this before." He says. "That's exactly why your ass needa calm down cuz you just saying shit and you ain't think straight, you gonna crash out go ahead." He adds letting her go.

"Fuck you." She mumbled. "You could be if you stop acting like this."

"Is that all you think about is fucking?" She asked.

"Only around you." He answered she rolled her eyes once again for the third time probably even more. They sat in silence for about 2 minutes. "You cool now?" He asked as he slowly released his hold on her arms.

"Im not finna force you into something you don't want so if you leave this car I leave you alone I'll find me a new assistant and we can act like we ain't never met."

Deep down Sierra knew her ass wasn't going nowhere. She was just saying all that for literally no reason she was just saying the first thing that came to her mind because she had a lot on her mind she didn't know what to say.

She knew that she needed this Job for one and two Imani was right She had been nothing but happy since her and Joshua actually started this relationship.

He's treated her way better then Jashawn has ever. If this was her and Jashawn they would have never gotten anywhere.

She really wanted cry and eventually tears started running down her cheeks. "It scares me Jey." She murmured. "What scares you Cece? Talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong so I could do better next time."

"I'm scared that if I let myself fall in love again I'm only gonna hurt again and I don't want be hurt all over again, and the shit like this is what my ex would do." She said.

"I'm not gonna hurt Again Sierra."  He says.

"When you dismissed me it felt like you didn't care about my feelings felt like your were tryna say fuck how I feel it's all about how you feel and how she felt." She said as she wiped her tears.

"Well baby that wasn't my intentions. I would never dismiss your feelings you know I wanna know how you feeling and I'm sorry that's how it came off. I was mad you were mad there was just lot going on all at once and I want you to know that I don't give a fuck about nobody else but you." He said.

"Did you get in trouble at work?" She asked after breaking the silence that fell between them. He looked at her confused then laughed out loud.

"Nah I ain't get in trouble."

"Okay good, can I have my job back?" She asked. He laughed again. "Yeah baby you can have your job back." He said.

Next part

Tag list 🏷️💗: @uceyliyahh @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @isabella-2025 @dstark-0706 @4milly @zillasvilla @charmed-dreamssss @sheaabuttaababyy @levissslutt

A/n: heyyy yall. I hope yall enjoyed chapter 6 bc I hate writing drama as yall can see I don’t know how to end it for shit. I only did it for yall to keep you guys in entertained nice to know yall actually like so I'll being doing it again don't know when mostly like just got be at a random time.

[dipperscavern]

Lord dippy!! Congrats on 1k they're soooo well deserved <3 you're ensuring the safety and well-being of your people (stark men's wives) and keeping us warm and well-fed (writing tons of amazing stuff), without you we'd never manage to survive trough the unforgiving long winter (the lack of good fanfics & blurbs)...anyways :3 may I humbly ask for an angst/comfort blurb with Jon?? In my mind he never left Winterfell and was forever happy with his alive siblings and he never had to feel like a bastard outsider. he didn't deserve all dat

hi baby!! this was so sweet omg thank you so much :( i hope you enjoy <3 (spoiler alert i got carried away) (as per usual)

jon snow x gn!reader

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

jon winces, a small noise emitting from his throat as pain seeps up his torso.

his cuts run deep; they’ll scar, melisandre says, but stannis’ closest thing to a maester insists on jon using a paste and bandages to allow them to heal. the paste certainly helps, but it still aggravates the skin when applied — no matter how soothing it was crafted to be.

the process is dreadful. it took minutes of him staring at the marks where he knows his blood left him, hesitation clawing up his throat before he worked up the ability to even begin. the open wounds have scabbed over, allowing the paste to coat them, but to jon, it doesn’t make the sight any prettier. he thinks the marred flesh a grisly spectacle.

memory of his fathers words echo in the back of his mind. lord eddard stark always appreciated scars on a man, saying it not only told a story, but spoke of how they survived it. a sick part of jon wishes there was no story of survival to tell.

a sharp intake of air passes through his lips as his hands shake, making his movements sloppy — accidentally pressing on the sensitive area more than he wished. he remembers when arrows pierced his skin, having a similar maintenance process as this; only these daggers wound unseen layers.

a knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts. it’s soft, tentative. he knows who it is before your honeyed voice rings from behind it. “Jon?”

he hums in question. “Can I come in?”

a second passes, a brief thought of covering himself enters his mind — a flash of insecurity pooling in his gut. it’s you, he reasons. but a different voice raises the question, would you reject the ugly parts of him?

his eyes flicker to his abdomen, another part of him now unworthy.

against his own better judgement, he hums in approval. he doesn’t turn to face you as the door opens; that small, aching part of him always wins one way or another.

he hears you turn the lock after you come in. he pretends not to know it’s because you realize he’s compromised, and you’re the only person he’d let see him like this. if he acknowledges it in full, he doubts his ability to keep his breathing steady — and these days his hands shake enough already.

another thumb-smooth of paste over a gash, another sharp ache. he grits his teeth in effort to conceal any noises that threaten to escape him. not in your company, not now. the atmosphere since his prominent death and return is tense as is.

unfortunately for him, you’re far too attentive to let it go unnoticed. a small turn of his head, and he sees your look of worry; the way your fingers grasp one another, no doubt in attempt to keep your qualms to yourself. it doesn’t work, it never has. not when it comes to jon, anyway.

“Jon, please let me help you.” a plea, a whisper of comfort you wish to offer him in the form of your saccharine hands. even as children, you insisted on bandaging his small cuts. putting cream on his bruises, dutifully checking on them until healed.

he stills. his voice a low, quiet rasp. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” your voice comes closer, and he feels you enter his space. what he wouldn’t give to make sure you never leave. “I want to. Can I?”

your hand wraps around his bicep, thumb moving slowly across his skin. a small, soothing touch that sends a warm feeling crawling up his spine. he’s lucky you don’t face him now, as you’d see the way his lashes have fluttered shut. such a seemingly simple thing you give him, and it makes his breath hitch all the same.

it doesn’t take much lately to set his emotions in disarray, and your touch is the only thing that helps. you seem to know this too, for your hands seek him now more than ever — and he would be a liar if he said he doesn’t cling to the respite you bring him like a lifeline.

his agreeance is nearly unheard, a small murmur accompanied by an even smaller nod. jon’s always had a hard time accepting help, especially it in the form of gentle touches and kind words; the kind he thinks himself undeserving of.

but you know jon. you know what he needs, even if he can’t bring himself to ask for it.

you press a small kiss to his bare shoulder, moving to stand in front of him. goosebumps trail his body at the feeling of your lips, and he bites back the want to close his eyes. he wants to savor the feeling, but he cherishes the moments gets to admire you even more.

your brows pinch ever so lightly when you see his abdomen, even with some of the severed skin already covered in paste. though you take the bowl harboring the medicine, a pang of embarrassment courses through him at your disdain. when your fingers reach to make contact, he expects pain, but none ever comes.

you touch him with a gentleness thats featherlight, and he subconsciously relaxes under your fingertips. he feels like his senses are on overdrive, feeling every touch, every breath. every unspoken word communicated through your treatment of him.

the silence is comforting, even as you frown. all of jon’s attention is on you, so much so that he doesn’t even feel the usual dull ache of torn skin healing itself. even so, you can’t seem to help yourself.

you whisper an apology, a hesitant confession. one that jon is caught off guard by. he almost doesn’t know what you mean, until he tears his gaze away from your expression enough to notice yours is trapped on the place where four daggers took his life. something clicks into place for him.

he stops your hand, his own wrapping around your wrist. not harshly, jon never is. “Hey,” he says. your eyes meet his. “You didn’t do this.”

though not directly said aloud, you know his true meaning. he doesn’t like when you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. even in his current state, he’s ever quick to reassure. “Y’ hear me?”

you nod, and while it’s not enough to remove the pity from your gaze, you don’t have that guilty look in your eye — like you did something wrong. jon knows you carry his death on your shoulders, even when the weight isn’t yours to bear.

he brings your wrist to his lips, kissing it before allowing you to continue. he can see the ghost of a smile grace your lips, and that’s enough for him.

minutes pass like that; you, tending to his wounds with the touch of embodied delicacy, and him, soaking up every piece of you he can. jons content to spend a lifetime in this very moment.

his wish isn’t granted, and soon, he’s reaching for fresh bandages. deja-vu of the arrows shot by a red archer lingers in the back of his mind, but the back is where it stays, as you’re forefront. always.

when he’s finished wrapping the white material, he turns to face you. “You don’t have to do that. Again.”

“Do you not want me to?” you’re sincere in your asking, and he knows you wouldn’t if he asked you not to — but he doesn’t, and his silence is telling.

you can’t help the small smile at his lack of words, and when you smile, jon can’t help but follow suit. mere days from being released from the strangers clutches, and you have him smiling. you’re a godsend. angelic. he’d tell you so if he could ever find the words.

but you’ve never relied on things only spoken. you step forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wrapping your arms around him; careful to avoid your torso touching his. jon’s appreciative of your effort, but he’s less hesitant, pulling you flush to him regardless. his head finds the crook of your shoulder, and he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon — unless there’s another knock on the door.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

[prettyoddfever]

the "Ryho" mindset is still happening

I didn’t like how part of the fandom treated Ryan during the pre-split years. This might end up being a lengthy explanation but bear with me because it’s relevant to the modern fandom.

So it was a well-known fact in 2006 that Ryan was straightedge/sober (Spencer was too, but he got less attention from the media). Being straightedge kind of became part of Ryan’s image (here’s a random example) and a lot of fans really connected with that. Then Ryan got drunk for the first time at the end of 2006, and we started seeing pictures of him partying with friends in early 2007 before the band even went to the cabin. 

By summer 2007 Ryan was like a completely different person. I get that the drugs & alcohol probably helped him become more outgoing, but I also think he was just becoming way more confident & comfortable as he grew up. And SO many fans seriously hated the change. Fans still randomly criticized the other 3 guys, but that stuff seemed more like the regular small complaints that happen just for the sake of complaining when people are bored (ex: Jon’s beard existing or vanishing). The stuff about Ryan was very different in tone and there were some consistent themes throughout the last half of 2007: Ryan was too in love with Keltie, he dressed like a hippie now, and he partied a lot. Basically, he was changing. He was no longer the same person that he was during the Fever era.

It honestly seemed like many fans were angry at this new version of Ryan for taking the old version away from them, as though they had some sort of ownership. There was tons of drama over the fact that we were seeing lots of pictures of Ryan partying with various friends (some of whom posted detailed stories about their nights or how drunk everyone was). Some fans said Ryan was a hypocrite or a liar and tried to make him out to be an alcoholic, as though he’d personally betrayed them by destroying who he was "supposed" to be.

However, I think most of the complaints were actually rooted in something bigger: Ryan looked happy.

I felt like a lot of the younger fans had latched onto the idea of a shy, wounded guitarist who needed to be saved or *understood* or whatever… you know the cliche I mean??  That was the vibe that the media sometimes tried to give him during the Fever era, so even they knew it would sell! But now Ryan was partying a lot with a wide range of friends, was dating Keltie, had completely abandoned his Fever-era aesthetic, and seemed to be closest with Jon in 2007 instead of Brendon. He was “destroying” the static image of Ryan that fangirls had taped onto their bedroom walls.

I remember a decent amount of fans actually admitting that they wished Ryan would go back to being depressed. Like they literally wanted him to be unhappy & unsure of himself because they liked him better that way. Others accepted that Ryan was changing and were happy for him, but still thought his bitter lyrics were better. And then even if other people wouldn’t admit that they were clinging onto an old version of Ryan, their main criticism still seemed to revolve around the fact that Ryan was living his life, having fun, and being different than he was the previous year.

I saved one fan’s post because it summed up some of the complaints this year:

The nickname “Ryho” really took off in late 2007.

Obviously a ton of fans loved Ryan (and the kids who were bashing him still claimed to love him too). The petty criticism just became annoying to me. People slammed his new clothes, his new hairstyles, the way he carried himself or talked, his weight/body, his “creepy” fingers, and the “girly” things he told Kerrang he liked (pumpkin spice candles, vanilla milkshakes, his puppy, and Titanic). Even the kids who used to love Ryan’s mild arrogance were now holding it against him. A lot of the fans who were criticizing Ryan in the last half of 2007 jumped right back to being his “fans” once the Pretty. Odd. era got going and things were interesting again, but I guess it shouldn’t have been surprising that so many fans were able to easily switch to bashing Ryan once again in spring 2009 when he was changing yet again. It’s like they were so focused on what Ryan wasn’t doing that spring (ex: recording the third Panic album) that they couldn’t see or accept what he was doing: building a whole new life for himself in a completely different music scene with the new crew of friends he’d been hanging out with for a while (Alex Greenwald’s scene).

One of the things that stuck out to me in late spring & summer 2009 was how many fans felt rejected by Ryan (and Jon). Those fans had basically idolized prior versions of Ryan and were hurt to slowly watch him destroy all of that as they realized he didn’t want to be part of the machine of the music scene that the fandom still loved. That hurt translated to them lashing out in anger.

So you know how I mentioned that in 2006 part of the fandom liked the idea of a shy, wounded guitarist who wrote bitter lyrics and needed to be *understood * and saved? And they resented Ryan for destroying that concept in 2007 and taking away the Ryan that they loved? They wanted to view him as a static character and couldn’t accept that he’s a constantly-evolving human. This is still happening today. Some fans are still upset that the version of Ryan that they want was taken away (ex: Ryan left the Fever era behind, left Panic behind). Except now instead of resenting Ryan for the choices that he made, some modern fans have rewritten the past to blame external forces like Brendon instead. I've been trying so hard to wrap my mind around this for a while, so here's my take on it... keep in mind that this is just my own observation/guess. Ryan isn't very visible now, so people are free to project a lot onto him. I think that by blaming Brendon (who is the visible one left), people can still happily view Ryan as a helpless victim who needs saving, and never feel rejected or betrayed by his choices... then it's like Ryan didn’t actually want to leave them, and could still be the person that they need him to be. Idk I'm still trying to comprehend what happened to the recent fandom tbh.

I'm absolutely not saying that all of Ryan's current fans are like this!! It's just that some little bits I've seen are concerning because they essentially take away Ryan’s agency & erase him. Even on a smaller scale, I've still noticed how some modern fans focus heavily on stories that dramatize Ryan's pain & portray him as a passive victim, regardless of whether those stories conflict with reality. Like why exactly is that angle a priority? Some examples:

Camisado is for dancing

the "funeral picture" isn't real

Lollapalooza was a fun show

June and July are different months

Ryan participated in the stage gay

some of the Ryden stuff could probably qualify too

Keep in mind that I'm saying this as a fan of Ryan. I am genuinely happy to see that he has so many newer fans! But sometimes I'm a little concerned that patterns might be repeating and maybe some people are more focused on their own creation of a character/image than an actual musician who has had many many phases.

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 4)

Original prompt + parts 1-3

Masterpost

-----

It's not the most awkward dinner Lois has ever had, but only because she's dined with literal supervillains before.  

Danny is poking at his Mongolian beef with his fork more than he's actually eating it.  Lois can hardly blame him; it’s been a difficult few days for her and she’s not the one who just landed in a different dimension from the one she grew up in.  But Danny certainly isn’t up to keeping conversation going.

Jon is making a valiant effort, but he seems distracted.  He keeps shooting looks at Lois and Clark when he thinks they’re not looking, and while he recounts everything he and Damian got up to (not too much trouble, thankfully, although that wasn’t saying much), he’s less enthusiastic than he would normally be.  

Clark keeps shooting Jon worried looks when he thinks Jon isn’t looking.  Lois will have to ask him how that conversation went; it seems like it was rough on both of them. 

Eventually, even Jon runs out of things to say, and the four of them sit around the table, eating their Chinese takeout in silence.  

“So, Danny,” Lois finally says.  “I don’t know how the dimension you grew up in differs from this one, but if you have any questions about anything, please ask one of us.”

“It’s not that different,” Danny says.  “I mean, it is in some ways, but it’s still Earth, you know?”

Lois isn’t entirely certain she does, but this doesn’t seem to be the time to ask.  Maybe when things are less fresh.

Jon has no such compunctions.  “What’s the biggest difference?” 

Danny looks thoughtful.  “You guys have a lot of superheroes here,” he finally says.

“What kind of superheroes did your other world have?” Jon asks eagerly.  

“We mostly didn’t,” Danny says.  “I mean, I guess Phantom kind of counts.  But that’s it.”

“That’s it?” Jon is clearly flabbergasted by this.  Lois fights a smile, and she can see Clark doing the same thing.  Jon has never known a world without the Justice League, but she and Clark can both remember when superheroes were much, much rarer.

“Most people probably wouldn’t even count Phantom,” Danny says.  “The kids mostly did, but a lot of adults didn’t trust him because he was… because he wasn’t exactly human.”

Combined with what Danny said before about that interdimensional portal, this is painting a picture Lois really doesn’t like.

“There are folks like that everywhere, unfortunately,” Clark says.  “And you can’t always change their minds. But I believe most people are better than that."

Judging by Danny's expression, he wasn't entirely convinced of that. Lois couldn't blame him; she has enough trouble seeing the good in people the way Clark did, and the other dimension sounds worse than hers in this regard.  

Danny doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it any further.  Silence lingers for just a beat too long before he speaks.  “Oh, the sun’s yellow here.  That’s different, too.”

-----

The front door slams, shaking the house, and Jon scrambles into the kitchen.  

“Where’s Ma and Pa?” he demands.

Kon mentally says goodbye to his tentative plans for the day.  Not that he minds hanging out with Jon, but he’s clearly upset about something.  Kon’s good at a lot of things, but emotional conversations is not one of them.

“They’re in town for the day,” Kon says.  “You’re lucky they didn’t hear you slam the door like that.”

“Did you know about Danny?” Jon demands.

“Who?”

“Dan-El.”

Clark texted a couple of days ago, telling Kon to call when he had time.  Kon has been putting it off, knowing that Clark has better ways of getting in touch with him if there’s a real emergency.  That’s starting to seem like a mistake.

He doesn’t answer Jon right away, which Jon seems to take as its own answer.  

“Did everyone know but me?” Jon demands.

The thing is, Kon is pretty sure he's not supposed to know about Dan-El. Lois and Clark have never breathed a word about him in Kon's hearing.

He only knows because he spent an afternoon helping Ma go through some old boxes up in the attic and found a box of photos-- mostly of Clark as a kid, but some of Ma and Pa when they were younger.

"Oh goodness," Ma had said, when she'd notices what Kon was looking at. "I keep telling myself I'm going to organize those and put them in an album, but I never get around to it."

She'd sat down next to Kon and looked through the pictures with him, pointing out her favorites and telling stories to accompany them. ("And that one was from just after Clark's tenth birthday-- we had to get a new door because his strength was just coming in and he broke the old one.")

Then Kon had pulled out a photo of a toddler, sitting on the front porch with Pa. He'd thought it was a picture of Clark at first, but Pa's hair was considerably more gray than it was in the pictures from Clark's childhood, and Ma had just told him that the porch had been rebuilt and expanded after Clark broke the old one in tenth grade.

"Oh, that's Daniel," Ma said. She'd gently taken the photo from Kon's hand and ran a finger over not-Clark's face. "He was our first grandson-- Lois and Clark's oldest." She'd gone on to tell him the whole sad story.

There's a small headstone for Daniel Kent in the Smallville cemetery, right next to Pa's parents. Kon thinks it must have been Ma or Pa's idea; there was no body to bury and as far as he knows, Lois and Clark never visit it.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Kon says.  “I think it’s just not something they talk about.”  Jon doesn’t look convinced, so he adds, “They told you now, right?”

“Only after he showed up!” 

“Wait, what?”  Kon is starting to think he really should have replied to that message from Clark.

-----

Not for the first time, Clark wishes there was a handbook for this sort of thing.  But oddly enough, parenting manuals generally don’t cover how to talk to your long-lost son about his alien heritage.  He’s put this off long enough already; Danny had spent most of the previous day out with Lois, picking up all the necessities he didn’t have.

“So…” Danny says, kicking his feet a little.  He’s sitting next to Clark on this skyscraper, his feet dangling over the edge.  It makes Clark a little nervous, seeing how Danny can’t fly yet, but he also knows he’s fast enough to catch Danny if he were to fall.

"Lois said you're an alien?" The words are softened by the blatant curiosity in Danny's tone, and Clark remembers Lois recounting how excited Danny was to meet J'onn and to see space from the Watchtower. 

It's a sentiment Clark can understand. He's traveled through space and met aliens both hostile and friendly. He regularly meets with his colleagues on an orbiting space station. And yet, seeing his adopted planet from space still fills him with awe.

"When I was born, my parents— my birth parents— already knew our planet, Krypton, was dying," Clark begins. It's not an easy story to tell, but the grief is old. Not gone, but distant. It's a place and a people he will never know except through stories and the archives in the Fortress— but those, at least, he can share. He tells Danny this, too, and promises to take him to the Fortress soon. It would be easier if Danny could fly, but he'll make it work. 

"You should talk to Kara, too," Clark adds. 

"Who's Kara?"

"My cousin. Right now she's in space, on a Justice League mission, but you'll meet her when she gets back. She was a teenager when Krypton was destroyed; she has firsthand memories."  He’ll save explaining the part where she got caught in suspended animation for later; he’s dumped a lot of information on Danny already.

“You said something the other night about yellow sun radiation?” Danny asks.

“It’s what gives Kryptonians our power, here on Earth,” Clark says.  

“And what powers are those, exactly?” Danny seems more hesitant than Clark would usually expect of a teenager finding out he’s going to develop superpowers— but then, they already know Danny grew up in a world where that sort of thing was feared and looked down upon.  

“Enhanced sense, enhanced strength and speed, flight, invulnerability— there are others, but those are the main ones to expect.”

Danny nods thoughtfully.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

re: being unable to predict twow and maybe being upset it doesn't do what fandom wants it to, were there any things in adwd you remember being surprised by and that went against common fandom interpretation at the time? :3

I'm not quite sure what was common fandom interpretation at the time, since after I finished AFFC in 2005 I tried the westeros.org forums and was extremely repelled by them and their hate for my favorite characters - and indeed, most female characters - and avoided them thereafter. (And somehow I never thought to check the Livejournal communities at the time, alas, which would've been more up my alley.) I did devour worg's Citadel (their pre-wiki, including the So Spake Martin archive) and fanart collection though lol.

But of course I was still surprised by things in ADWD. Like, I had no expectation whatsoever that Bloodraven was still alive, let alone that he was the three-eyed crow. Or heck, that the children of the forest definitely exist and appear on page as actual characters! I did not expect a Varamyr prologue POV in the slightest, or his warg/skinchanger lore reveals. And I did not expect the Aegon reveal at all, though checking the SSMs afterwards (as well as this ancient pre-AFFC FAQ) showed me that some people had been wondering from day 1 if he had survived. And for that matter, Jon Connington's survival was surprising (at least my memory is very good, so the griffin thing and Tyrion's suspicions of him being a Westeros lord had me leaping back to Jaime's conversation with Ronnet), as well as Jon's POV (including his sexual orientation) and the greyscale thing. Oh man, the whole stone men scene was all new fascinating worldbuilding.

As for existing POVs and known plots, I certainly never expected Theon's state as Reek (tortured, yes, but not reduced to that, though I probably should have), or that he would be a POV again, or that I would find his narrative so heartwrenching or that he would become a favorite character. (From reading a bunch of pre-ADWD fanfics, I don't think the fandom expected Ramsay to be so abusive of Jeyne either, but for that I have no idea why.) I was surprised by Cersei's walk of shame, though I probably should have expected some sort of religion-based sexual humiliation. (Actually, I don't think most people expected the returning AFFC POVs because of the book split, though I'm glad GRRM chose to update us on some of its cliffhangers - like, at least Brienne is no longer hanging from a tree!) I did not expect Tyrion's POV and mental state to be so dark, but again, I probably should have. I also didn't expect him to link up with Jorah (I don't recall what I imagined Jorah to do in his exile but not that - maybe lurk around the fringes of Meereen?) or the slavery plot at all.

I think the fandom in general expected more... plot-advancement, I guess, more battles involving KL again, more movement of Dany towards Westeros, though they always have, lol. (There are ACOK-era theories that she'd come to Westeros right away, marry Robb and destroy the Lannisters together, etc.) I'm sure some expected Stannis conquering Winterfell and getting the Boltons out, though at least there they were mostly right, as the battle of ice (as well as the battle of fire) got cut from ADWD last minute. As for plot advancement expectations from me, I personally hoped that Marwyn would reach Dany in ADWD, though considering he leaves at the end of the last chapter of AFFC and the distances involved, I really should have known better. But I did expect to hear at least a little about Rickon, and Davos learning he's on Skagos (and getting sent to retrieve him) was a pleasant semi-resolution there.

Anyway, hope that helps! If/when we get TWOW, despite the fandom doing like 15 years of speculation and theories (not to mention the show), I'm sure there will be plenty of surprises, both positive ones and disappointments, as well as completely unexpected things.

[freeuselandonorris]

iyaaaa please may i suggest 22 + lando/older man of your choice in case that sparks anything? <3

fanks lima that did spark something and it was lando/andrea and the MTC bathroom gloryhole 😌

Nobody tells Lando about it directly. He’s doing resistance band stretches in the back of the garage with Jon while the engineers are fiddling about with the rear wing assembly, and they’re talking about it. Pretty loudly, pretty shamelessly. About how there’s a certain bathroom on floor three of MTC, the small one just off the Composites department that only has two stalls in it. About the hole someone’s drilled into the dividing wall at waist height, the perfect height and width for —

“Oi,” Jon says, snapping his fingers in front of Lando’s face. “You’re meant to be stretching, not earwigging.”

”Yeah, alright,” Lando grouses, trying to switch his attention back to the chest stretches he’s been half-assing for the last five minutes. “Maybe you should be more interesting if you don’t want me to get bored of you, ever thought of that?”

“Noted, boss,” Jon says, cheerful, and spins him round to start on his shoulder stretches.

Andrea’s standing behind them, leaning against the central console with his big earphones hooked around his neck. Listening to the same conversation, one eyebrow minutely raised.

He meets Lando’s gaze as he turns, just for a second. Lando feels himself flush and looks away.

It takes about a week for Lando’s curiosity to get the better of him.

He knows it’s a stupid idea, but then surely as long as he’s quiet, discreet, there’s no real risk. Nobody would imagine it’s him. Or even better — they might want to think it’s him, but how could they prove it?

It’s tempting. Too tempting.

The factory is quiet by the time Lando’s finished for the day. Quiet, but not empty.

Lando excuses himself from the last few stragglers in the meeting room, waving his goodbyes and heading off in the direction of the lifts.

Glancing over his shoulder to check he’s not being followed, he pulls his hood up and cuts back to the stairs, climbing to level three. The bathrooms they’d been talking about are at the far end of the same corridor, tucked away. Hardly anyone uses them; hardly anyone knows they’re there. Lando can’t remember ever going in there before, which is probably why he’s never noticed the hole. But once he lets himself into the right-hand stall and latches the door behind himself, there it is. A couple of feet off the ground, a few inches wide, carefully and neatly drilled.

Beneath it, in black marker pen, someone has helpfully added instructions. Suck here.

*

He’s sat there for ages before anyone comes in. Perched on the toilet with the lid down, elbows on his knees, scrolling TikTok with the volume off. When fifteen minutes have ticked past, he wonders if he should just give up.

On the verge of standing, he hears the bathroom door creak open and freezes in place.

Fuck, maybe it’s just someone coming in for a piss. Or worse. Someone who doesn’t know about the reputation this place has, or knows about it but has decided to ignore it, thinks it’s weird or silly or gross.

Lando breathes as quietly as possible, sliding his phone back into his jeans pocket and pressing his sweaty palms against his thighs.

Footsteps cross the floor. The door of the stall next to him shuts gently; the click of the latch echoes off the tiles. There’s some shuffling, the whirr of a zip.

Then silence. Waiting.

Lando swallows, digs his fingers into his knees. Fuck, he should’ve googled this beforehand or something. Checked the etiquette. Is the other guy meant to just stick his cock through and hope for the best?

On the other side of the partition, the man clears his throat. It’s probably as close as Lando’s going to get to a come-on.

He exhales and taps the wall with a knuckle, just beside the waiting hole, hoping he’s telegraphing his meaning. I’m here, if you want it.

Nothing happens for a few seconds. Nausea rises in Lando’s belly. He’s fucked it. He’s creeped out someone from the Composites team who just wanted to use the fucking toilet. Oh Jesus, he’s going to get reported to HR.

A scuffle close to his head makes him jump. Whoever’s on the other side, they’re standing very close to the wall. Lando darts a glance downwards; the tips of two McLaren-branded trainers, the same ones they all wear, are just visible beneath the partition.

Lando looks up. The tip of a cock is poking through the hole in the wall, pink and flushed and slightly ridiculous.

He slides to his knees, shuffles closer, parts his lips and sticks out his tongue. Before he can chicken out, he licks the tip of the cock. Just a quick swipe, like he’s licking the swirl of an ice cream.

The man on the other side inhales sharply. There’s something faintly familiar; something tickling at the edges of Lando’s memory. He chooses not to think about it. Licks again.

Another shuddering breath. A soft word spoken under the breath in a language Lando can’t quite get a handle on, except he knows it’s not English. Well, at least he knows it’s not Oscar. Or Zak.

He parts his lips, closing them around the tip of the cock. His nose is pressed up against the wall, there’s no room to move. He taps the wall again, and as if by magic, the cock pushes further into his mouth, a pleasant wait on his tongue.

It’s still a pretty shit angle, and he can’t do much more than suckle on it; whoever it is, they’re not massively hung. There’s a slight upward curve to his cock, grazing the roof of Lando’s mouth as he thrusts through the hole as best he can.

Whatever the shortcomings of Lando’s blowjob, they don’t seem to be much of an issue. It only takes a few minutes of gentle sucking, teasing the slit with his tongue, before he can taste precum leaking. He can hear the man breathing hard, the fastenings of his trousers scraping against the wall where he’s humping against it. There’s something obscene about it, the way he’s making this man fall apart in a bathroom that smells of antiseptic spray and air freshener, the way he exists only as a mouth to fuck. It’s making him hard too, aching in his jeans. He undoes them with trembling hands, trying not to let the rhythm of his mouth and tongue falter as he gets a hand on himself.

The man grunts, and recognition stabs at the back of Lando’s mind again. He ignores it, hollows his cheek and sucks hard, tongue rubbing eager circles just below the head where he knows it’s good. A sharp, bitten-off moan, and salt spreads across his tongue. Lando’s swallowed it down before he realises he could have spat it into the toilet next to him.

He sinks to his haunches, jacking himself off frantically. The cock withdraws from the hole and Lando whimpers, involuntary. He’s vaguely aware that he should be ashamed about this, on his knees in a public toilet with the taste of anonymous spunk coating his mouth, bundling toilet roll into one hand so he doesn’t get come all over his jeans. But if there’s nobody to see it, why should he feel shame?

The stall door next to him unlatches. Lando listens to the tap running, the splash of the man washing his hands. He comes as the man dries his hands beneath the air dryer, muffling his moans beneath the noise.

*

Afterwards, he has to splash his face with cold water. He’s pink across the cheeks, eyes reddened where they’d watered with the effort. His mouth looks soft and swollen. He tries to fix his hair, smooth his clothes back into place.

Before he leaves, he peers into the adjoining stall. On the other side of the hole, written in the same black marker, a different set of instructions. Fuck here.

He closes the door behind himself as quietly as possible as he leaves, trying not to draw attention to anyone who might be walking past, and walks towards the lift as quickly as he can.

Someone holds the doors for him as he turns the corner to the foyer. Lando steps inside the lift.

“Lando,” Andrea greets him, inclining his head.

Lando nods, swallowing hard and digging his phone out of his pocket so he has something to look at in the hope Andrea won’t notice his freshly fucked face.

As he looks down, something snags his attention. The zip to Andrea’s trousers is undone.

His eyes jerk up to Andrea’s face. Andrea’s staring right back at him, at his swollen mouth, his mussed-up hair.

He swallows. His brain feels awfully blank; he can’t remember a single normal thing they might have a conversation about.

Before his panic can spiral, the lift pings to signal the ground floor.

As the door opens, Andrea reaches out. Touches his arm, a gesture that could easily be read as friendly. “It is good to see you working late, Lando,” he says, and meets Lando’s eyes. “I think I will be here in the evening all week, too.”

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 12

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jon comes home to find you crying and in a moment of weakness, you make a mistake.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, pregnancy scare, post panic attack?, angst, comfort, body worship?, deep throating, fingering, vaginal sex, breeding, disgusting fluff

Words | 4.3k

Notes | I recommend grabbing a barf bag before proceeding because the fluff in this is absolutely nauseating. (Also I’m reusing gifs now I guess😭)

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 11

The front door opened softly, then shut just as quiet, and you held your breath as you listened for his footsteps. He called your name, presumably walking around the apartment to find you. Then the handle on the bathroom door jiggled, but it wouldn’t open. 

“Don’t come in.” You croaked, even though it was locked anyway. 

“Are you crying? What happened?” He sounded significantly more worried now, which only made you feel worse. 

“Nothing, I- I’m just.. going to the bathroom.” You muttered weakly, hugging your legs tighter to your chest. 

“Please let me in, little one.” You let out a quiet sob and buried your face in your knees. After a moment, you heard the door crack open and you lifted your head as he walked in, pocketing his keys. You cursed at yourself for not remembering that these kinds of door handle locks can be turned from the outside. 

“What happened?” He kneeled next to you and brushed your hair away from your face to see you better as his other hand gently wiped the tears off your cheeks. 

“I- I threw up.” You said through a sob, feeling your chest start to tighten and your breathing start to come in short pants again. 

“That’s why you’re crying?” You knew he didn’t understand it yet. 

“Jon, I threw up.” You gave him a knowing look as you bit your trembling lip, waiting for him to figure it out. His lips parted and his eyes just barely widened, so you gave him a pained smile before looking at your knees again. 

“Do you still feel sick?” 

“Not because of that.” You muttered, mostly sure that you were nauseous from anxiety and fear now, rather than actual morning sickness. He helped you to your feet and brought you over to the sink, instructing you to just rinse your mouth out a little so you didn’t have to keep tasting it. When you finished, he led you to the bed and pulled you onto it, letting you lay over him as he wrapped his arms around your torso. 

“You can take a test, then we’ll go from there, okay?” He said softly, placing a kiss on your hair. 

“What about after that? It’s not like I can exactly just walk into a clinic now.” 

“I know a doctor who owes me a favor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, Jon.” The exhaustion was clear in your voice, especially now that you were laying down, in his arms. 

“Regardless, I’m still sorry you had to go through that alone. I won’t leave your side until we have it figured out.” 

“You don’t have to do that… I overreacted.” 

“I’d hardly call having a panic attack over a very valid fear overreacting.” He scoffed teasingly, making the corners of your lips turn up a little. 

“Still, if I would’ve just thought it through for a moment I wouldn’t have spiraled.”

“They’re called irrational fears for a reason, darling.”

“You keep doing that.” You muttered, cheeks burning. 

“Doing what?”

“Calling me new names.” 

“You like them.” He said simply, as if that explained the total switch from reluctantly calling you one name, to now using multiple, voluntarily. 

“But you don’t…” The way you said it made it sound like a question, but he didn’t answer. You did, however, hear his heart rate increase slightly. “Do you?” You asked skeptically, practically able to feel the way he probably rolled his eyes. 

“It’s tolerable.” He muttered and you lifted your head to look at him, finding the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. 

“God- you’re such a softie.” You mumbled, laying back down, biting back a grin. He scoffed in response. 

“Once you’re feeling better, we’ll see if you still think I’m a softie.” The seductive tone made your stomach flutter. 

“Sex doesn’t count. That’s pretend.” After a moment of silence, he seemed to realize you won this round because the only response you got was a huff. 

You laid there silently, listening to his heart beating and trying to feel the warmth of his chest beneath his suit. His hand moved up to lightly play with your hair and scratch your head, making your eyes flutter shut as you smiled. 

“Feels good.” You mumbled against him, eyes growing incredibly heavy all of a sudden. 

“Are you tired?” He asked quietly and you hummed in agreement. “Go to sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He placed another kiss on top of your head, making your heart flutter. 

“Thanks. Love you.” You mumbled, words slurring together. His hand froze and he stiffened beneath you, but it barely registered in your exhausted brain. He placed another kiss on your head, this one longer and gentler, then continued petting your hair, his heart pounding much louder in his chest now. 

Despite getting a few hours of sleep, you still felt tired and drained when you woke up, more than likely because of your extremely long and intense crying session. The second you realized that all you felt were the sheets, you opened your eyes and reached out on the bed, feeling for him. 

“Jon?” You mumbled, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light. 

“I’m here.” You turned over and found him sitting on the bed next to you, now in sweatpants and a shirt, with some papers on his lap. 

“God- I feel like shit.” You groaned, letting your head drop into the pillow. 

“I left water for you on the nightstand. Do you want anything else?” Fuck— water sounds amazing right now. Keeping your head buried in the pillow, you blindly reached for the nightstand and moved your hand around until you met the bottle sitting there. You barely lifted your head enough to chug the drink. 

“I hate crying, I always feel so gross and tired after.” You grumbled, setting the bottle back on the nightstand. 

“You seem to be in a better mood despite that.” He noted. You laid back down on the pillow and placed a hand on his bicep, wanting to touch him, but still trying to let him work. 

“I trust you and I know you’re going to help me figure it out.” You let your eyes fall shut, listening to his pen gliding across the paper. 

“Are you okay with a normal test? Or would you prefer to get tested at the doctor's office.” 

“Um…” You bit your lip, feeling embarrassed about your answer. False negatives on drugstore tests are not uncommon. Plus you just trust an ‘official’ test more. He seemed to pick up on what you were thinking though. 

“I’ll take you.” 

“Thanks.” Your heart suddenly dropped when you got hit with deja vu. “Thanks. Love you.” Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck. 

Clearing your throat, you tried to organize your thoughts and not panic. Maybe he didn’t hear it? He doesn’t seem upset so maybe he did hear it but he doesn’t care? Because he didn’t say it back… Is that why he’s not laying with you anymore and laying beside you instead?

He shushed you softly and placed his hand over yours on his arm. 

“I didn’t say anything…” 

“Not aloud, no.” Sometimes it’s a little unnerving how easily he can read you. Should you apologize? Take it back? He would’ve said it back by now if he felt the same way though… You tried not to tear up at the thought, but it made your chest ache and you couldn’t help it. 

“I- I didn’t mean… I said that by accident. I didn’t mean to.” You said weakly. The pen on the paper suddenly stopped and you held your breath, waiting to be yelled at or left alone. 

“You didn’t mean to say it or you didn’t mean it?” He asked quietly. You bit your lip and angled your face more toward the pillow because you could practically feel his eyes on your head. 

“Um…” You did mean it. And you’re pretty sure he knows that. This felt like one of those moments that would change the way everything goes from here. If you tell him the truth, he either feels the same way, or he doesn’t. If you lie, he’ll either be relieved or disappointed. You’re not sure which option is more worth the risk. 

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it.” What the fuck does that mean?

“Did you want me to mean it?” He just paused, then sighed quietly at your response. He was silent for so long that you could practically hear your heart breaking. “Let’s just- forget about it. Pretend it never happened… I’m sorry for saying it in the first place, I shouldn’t have.” Taking in a shaky breath, you realized that your eyes were completely blurry with tears that were on the verge of falling any second now. You quickly sat up and started moving toward the edge of the bed to get up and go to the bathroom, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. 

“Where are you going?” 

“…The bathroom?” Your voice trembled embarrassingly, making you feel worse about all of this. When you tried pulling away, his grip tightened, but not enough to actually hurt you. 

“Yes.” He said, voice strained. 

“What?” 

“I… I want you to have meant it.”  

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,”

“I’m not.” He said firmly, cutting you off. “I- I… feel the same.” You turned back around and he looked down once he met your gaze. You’ve never heard him stumble over his words like this. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Your tone was harsher now, a warning. If he was lying or making fun of you… you’re not afraid to go find your wristband with his toxin and use it on him. 

“Do you really think I would do that?” He scoffed in what might’ve been amusement.

“Answer me.”

“No, I’m not.” He sighed. “I just— Don’t expect me to be able to say it. I haven’t since I was a child.” The thought made you frown. He probably didn’t say it to his family as a child based on what he told you, but he’s never had anyone in his adult life that he felt that way about?

“You’ve never had any girlfriends or anything?” You asked, trying to get rid of your frown so he didn’t take it the wrong way. 

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t very popular with women. I’m still not.” Even though part of you can believe that, another part is just completely surprised that he hasn’t had one girlfriend. 

“How?? You’re smart and kinky and funny and kind and pretty and you have fluffy hair. How has no one been interested?” His cheeks turned pink and he looked away from you again. 

“Most people don’t agree with my… line of work.” 

“I see… Well that’s their loss.” You shrugged, making the corners of his lips turn up. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He suddenly asked, making you smile. 

“I think you’re very pretty.” You crawled toward him and moved the papers away so you could sit on his lap, his hands lightly holding your hips. “Your lips are so pink and soft,” You said quietly, cupping his cheek and trailing your thumb over them, “and I don’t even know how it’s possible to have bone structure like this.” You softly trailed your fingers over his cheekbones, staring at them in awe and feeling how warm his cheeks were getting. “And you have freckles. They’re really faint, but I like them a lot.” You brushed your fingers across his nose and cheeks, following the path of freckles. 

“Your eyes are pretty too.” You gently removed his glasses and set them on top of the papers. “Mesmerizing.” You muttered, absentmindedly, as your gaze shifted between his eyes. He looked away from you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. 

“Why do you think I had such a big crush on you after we first met?” You chuckled, making him look at you again. 

“You did?”

“Yes, you dork. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing. You made me so nervous.” Now it was your turn to blush a little. 

“I thought you were just nervous because of the.. usual topic of our discussions.” 

“It was a bit of both.” There was a lull in the conversation, so you decided to change the subject. “You know what else I think is pretty?” He didn’t give you a verbal response, trying to seem nonchalant about it. Placing your hands on his chest, you snaked them down his stomach to his pants, teasing the waistband. “Your cock.” You smirked, carefully studying his reaction. Which was worth it because for half a second, he was flustered and surprised before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression. 

“How on earth can that be pretty?” He scoffed, cheeks glowing red now. 

“You tell me, doctor.” You said teasingly. His hands started dragging down your thighs, then back up to your hips. “How about I compliment it properly, hm?” You moved down to sit over his thighs and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, waiting for him to stop you, but he never did. So you kept going, only pulling them down to his mid thigh. 

It didn’t take long for you to stroke him to full hardness as you laid on your stomach between his legs. When you kissed the tip of his cock and licked up the bead of precum, he let out a shaky breath and placed a gentle hand on the back of your head. 

“You get so pink,” you said quietly, mouthing at the head of his cock, “and there’s this vein down here,” you licked a long stripe up the bottom of his cock, over the vein, “it’s so fucking hot.” You whispered. Glancing up at him, you noticed that his cheeks were even more red now as he stared down at you in almost awe. 

Wanting to tease him, you kissed down his cock until you reached his balls and started licking and kissing them gently. Your hand was still holding his cock, but it was unmoving. When his hips bucked, you couldn’t help but smirk against him. 

“Be patient, Jon.” You reprimanded softly. 

“Stop being a tease.” He said through a breath, making you pull away with a pout. 

“Jonny, please just let me take my time. Haven’t had you in my mouth in so long.” You whined, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He cursed under his breath and let his head fall back until it hit the headboard quietly. 

“Stop calling me that.” The weak demand was the only protest you got, so you leaned back down to continue. 

“But I like calling you Jonny. Makes your face so red.” You giggled quietly, barely pulling away to speak. As you mouthed at his balls, he threaded his fingers through your hair and lightly grabbed it, not moving you at all though. 

“Red from annoyance maybe.” He grumbled, making you smile. When you sucked one of his balls in your mouth, his breath caught in his throat and his grip tightened just the slightest amount. You released his cock, letting it rest on his stomach, and he huffed as the barest amount of stimulation went to no stimulation. You pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Are you sure, Jonny?” You asked innocently, but your grin turned outright devious when his cock twitched on his stomach. He rolled his eyes with a scoff. 

“That means nothing.” He muttered, gently pushing your head back down. You decided to give him a break from the teasing and focus on the task at hand. Sucking the other one in your mouth, you picked up his cock and stroked slowly, forcing a shaky breath out of him as he ran his fingers through your hair, letting you have full control. If he keeps acting like this, you’re going to get on a total power trip— especially after the last time you had sex. Maybe not a dominant power trip, but a power trip nonetheless. 

You continued licking and kissing and sucking, all while slowly stroking him and savoring his soft sounds. After another moment, you decided to kiss back up his cock until you reached the tip. When you licked the bead of precum, he cursed under his breath and you smiled to yourself, licking the head of his cock again just to tease him. 

“C’mon.” He urged quietly, not yet forcing you though. When you held the base of his cock and mouthed at the tip, he all but whined as he squirmed under you. “Please, little one.” You barely heard it, but you knew you didn’t hallucinate it. 

“You’re being so patient, Jonny.” You said proudly, making his cock jump in your hand. “I promise I’ll start soon, I just wanna enjoy this first.” He let out a quiet sigh when you continued licking and sucking on the tip, never going any lower. 

“Baby, please.” He whined, making you moan around him. Something about that pet name is just different than the others and you couldn’t help but give in. 

“Okay, Jonny.” You gave him a small smile before leaning back down and wrapping your lips around him, immediately taking him half way. Your hand stayed at the base as you bobbed up and down. 

“Fuck… Good girl.” He said through a breath. His fingers threaded through your hair again, but he didn’t take control yet. When your hand slipped down to cup his balls and you took him deeper in your mouth, he let out a choked moan as his hips flinched up, making you gag. He didn’t verbally apologize, he just brought his other hand up to gently pet your head as you continued. 

You took him deeper and deeper each time until his cock was hitting the back of your mouth. When you reached up and put your hand on top of the one he had in your hair, pushing down on it, he cursed under his breath, but complied eagerly. His cock breached your throat barrier and you choked as he let out a low groan. 

“So fucking good.” He groaned and if you were able to make any sounds, you would’ve whined at the praise. He pulled you off and let you catch your breath. While you panted, you stroked his cock, looking up at him and he cursed under his breath at the sight of you, then moved you back onto his cock. 

He fucked your throat slowly, but pushed you all the way down everytime, making you gag as saliva and tears started building up. When he pushed you down and held you there, you tried to control your gag reflex so you could stay like this, but you weren’t successful. You couldn’t pull off so you placed your hands on his thighs and tried harder, but he just grabbed your hand in his free one and held it, letting you squeeze to ground yourself. 

He removed the pressure and you shot up with a gasp, trying to calm down quickly so you could keep going. His thumb was rubbing back and forth on your hand, soothing you while simultaneously making your stomach flutter. 

“Come up here, little one.” He said softly, making you frown. 

“But ‘m not done.” You pouted, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile. 

“I know, darling, but I don’t want to come in your mouth.” His tone was far too sweet for the words that left his mouth. You glanced at his cock with a blush, then looked back up at him and nodded. 

“Okay.” You got up on your knees and started pushing his shirt up, making him stiffen a little. When you reached his chest, you told him to take it off and he obeyed. Instead of settling on his lap, you stayed between his legs and snaked your hands back down his torso. The scars littering his body made you frown, especially now that you knew where most of them were from. When you leaned down to kiss one, his body went completely stiff under you, making you pause. 

“What are you doing?” His tone was guarded and a little harsh, and you faltered. 

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t have to.” You said quietly, pulling away more to look up at him. He stared down at you with apprehension, looking like he was having an internal battle in his mind about what he wanted. Even after he relaxed a little, you still waited, only moving when he gave you a small nod. 

You just barely pressed your lips to the raised skin, still worried you were making him uncomfortable. When he didn’t go stiff or push you away, you continued. You kissed most of the scars on his stomach, going up to his chest. You reached the highest one, just below his collar bone, and finally straddled his legs. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned down to kiss him and his hands settled on your hips. 

One of his hands snaked over your stomach and down until he reached your underwear. He slipped his hand inside and cursed under his breath at your obvious arousal. When he started rubbing slow circles on your clit, you whined into the kiss and squirmed on his lap. 

“Fuck me.” You whispered, making his grip tighten on your hip. 

“You’re not ready yet.” He replied, just as quietly, then started trailing kisses over your jaw and down to your neck to darken the fading bruises. 

“Please, Jonny… s’too empty.” You whimpered, grinding against his hand. 

“Soon, little one.” You huffed and he bit down on your skin, making you wince, but grind harder against him. He slipped your shirt over your head, then leaned forward, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking gently. 

“Please— ‘m ready…” You whined. All he did was switch to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. When he finally pulled back and removed his hand, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly. He suddenly grabbed your panties with both hands and ripped them clean off your body, making you gasp out a moan. 

“I liked those…” You whined, pouting. 

“I’ll buy you more.” He didn’t actually roll his eyes, but his tone made it seem like he was about to. When he lined his cock up with your entrance, your breath caught in your throat and you waited anxiously. “Relax.” He whispered, pulling you down to kiss you again. Your body obeyed and as soon as he felt your muscles loosen up, he pulled you down onto him, making you both moan into the kiss. It was still a little tight, and there was a faint burning sensation, but it satisfied every part of you that was needing to feel full. 

He started pulling your hips forward and back, rocking you against him slowly until you picked up the pace on your own. When he pulled away from the kiss, you whined, but he ignored you and just brushed your hair out of your face, then cupped your cheek. 

“Say it again.” He said through a breath, making you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Say it. Please.” His eyes bored into yours with an almost desperate look that you weren’t used to, that’s when it finally clicked. You stared down at him, trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you and focus on getting the words out, but it was hard. Even though you’re the more vulnerable one in this relationship, you’re still not used to it. 

“I—” You choked out, unable to finish. 

“Please, little one.” He whispered, squeezing your hip a little harder. So you took a deep breath and tried again. 

“I love you,” The words were still foreign on your tongue. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you back down into a kiss, making you moan at the suddenness. 

“Again.” He mumbled against your lips. 

“I love you.” Your movements were growing more eager and he moved his hand down to rub your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. “I love you, Jon.” He had to separate from the kiss as he panted, but he kept his forehead pressed to yours. 

“I—” He started, making your heart skip a beat. But his breathing quickly grew more labored and you could tell it was out of anxiety rather than arousal. 

“I know. You don’t have to say it yet.” You whispered, even though your entire being was craving the opposite. He didn’t seem convinced that that was enough, so you added, “I love you too.” 

Too. 

Because he loves you. 

He loves you and you love him too. 

Your orgasm hit you suddenly and you moaned and whined as you writhed in his lap. His eyes fluttered shut and his grip got even tighter on your hip as his release crashed over him. Through the almost intense orgasm, you could feel hot come painting your walls, adding to your already overwhelming pleasure. When it finally passed and you were both panting, he pushed your hair that had fallen forward out of your face and cupped your cheek again, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Do you really mean it?” He asked quietly, looking up at you nervously. You moved your hands from his hair to the sides of his head and held him there gently, not letting him look away. 

“Yes. More than anything.” You whispered, watching his eyes flutter as he swallowed thickly. “Do you really mean it?” 

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate this time. 

Part 13

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @bluujaiwrites @ohmysatansstuff @halleysc6met @d1lf-loverthinqs @baekhyunstruly

[synergysilhouette]

Hot takes/unpopular opinions with DC and Marvel Comics (Part 3)

I'm back with another "hot take" post on the aforementioned publishers and their properties. Hope you enjoy!

"Grayson" should've been a Tim Drake series--While I'm not a fan of "Grayson" from the perspective of it feeling like a downgrade for a hero in the main universe to become a spy, I think it would've benefited Tim Drake, given the fact that he needed something new, and it would've been a good way to highlight his reputation as the smartest Robin (which has since been kinda undermined). I also think it could've worked for Damian, but seeing how underrated Tim is, he has my vote.

2. Ric Grayson could've been brought about with the memory crystal--I know hindsight is 20/20, but I do think that Dick Grayson becoming Ric Grayson could've easily been done with the mind control crystal Joker used on him rather than going the cliche amnesia route. At least it would've made Ric's arc a little more likeable. OR we could've had Dick Grayson as a villain while he had amnesia instead of using the memory crystal. Either way, it works.

3. DC really puts the bio kids of SuperBat first--While Nightwing is still popular, I do feel like he's kinda become underrated over the years (not least because of the objectification he's faced in comics and other media), while Red Hood and Tim Drake's Robin definitely feel even moreso. Damian is definitely the face of the Robins now, making it feel like DC prefers Batman with his biological son. A similar thing happened with Superman, with his clone/son Kon-El being kinda forgotten (though I did enjoy him being part of the Titans in "Titans United") and his biological son Jon taking up the Suberboy mantle and getting more space.

4. Damian should've been bi instead of Tim--While stuff like this is gonna get negative attention no matter how you slice and dice it, Damian's youth (both as a person and as a character) would've been less controversial than Tim being bi, especially since DC, definitely showing favoritism to Damian over Tim, would've made sure that Damian's sexuality wasn't all he was, unlike Tim, who only seems to get major attention when it's time for DC Pride. Like, is that all Tim is now? Not the smart Robin, not the heartfelt Robin, but the Robin who's attracted to guys as well as girls? Definitely think Damian would've been treated better--plus IMAGINE if he and Jon started dating. I'm sure that'd make some headlines (plus all of the next-gen Trinity would be bi).

5. Starfire needs another series--Given the success of the "Teen Titans" tv show, I would've thought she'd be a lot more relevant in DC, but she's mostly tied to the Titans now rather than any other property. And even when she gets the spotlight, a lot of it is tied to the tragedy of her homeworld rather than expanding on her culture and Tamaranean history. I don't even remember what Tamaran's current status is, but it'd be nice to explore it in present-day, as well as seeing more of Starfire's family (ie her parents, sister, brother, and cousin), and perhaps retconning Ph'yzzon's death so he can be a love interest to her--even though I do love her with Dick and Roy. Plus I kinda want more diversity in terms of phenotypes; most of them all have the red hair, orange skin, and green eyes going on except for people like Ph'yzzon (perhaps they're different races on Tamaran; IDK, but I'd still want a bit more differentiation within the same race).

6. The O5's return should've been an AU--I stand by this, mainly because they were sent back in time with memories erased later, and their contributions and relationships are short-lived (RIP Storm/Cyclops, Iceman/Romeo, and Angel/X-23). It could've also allowed for more creative storytelling rather than the whole "culture shock" thing with going forward half a century and having to deal with everyone having different feelings about them thanks to their present-day selves. Maybe it's also my desire for a spiritual successor to "X-Men: Evolution."

7. Loki/Scarlet Witch was done dirty--I remember being so frustrated on this. I've only been into comics for half a decade and don't keep track of all of them, but from what I understand, Loki's been making growth from a villain to an antihero. However, Scarlet Witch's comic not only teased us with the possibility with a romance (something I never knew I wanted), but said a romance between them was impossible because Loki wasn't honest with himself and wouldn't change. I feel like that was such a weird slap in the face, telling us that a couple would exist if a character's growth meant anything to the current writers. (Oh, and I'm not making this another bullet point on it's own, but Loki is NOT rocking the black lipstick. Maybe it's just the artists I've seen so far?)

8. Trying to retire Cyclops was stupid--Chris Claremont's desire to retire Cyclops was always weird to me when I found out about it. I know the X-Men face a variety of threats, but at the end of the day, they're superpowered humans who are the next step in evolution, and was made as an allegory to racism. As such, you don't really retire from being the victim of racism; even if Cyclops kept his head down and avoided showing his gift, it felt like going against everything he stood for. Maybe someone can explain Claremont's thought process more for me to understand, but I found it ridiciulous to simply write him as getting married, starting a family, and essentially "forgetting" about the X-Men. It'd be different if he was a mutant with no prior experience in heroism. Plus if we never tried to go that route, maybe Madelyne and Nathan would've gotten better treatment (or maybe they'd never exist at all).

9. Cyclops and Professor X's modern characterization is awful--Okay, my experience as a new(ish) comic reader is definitely showing, as is my exposure to X-Men media. I'm not a fan of hardened Cyclops, and I kinda miss his boy scout personality, as well as a time when Professor X wasn't self-righteous. What are the odds of a soft reboot of them back to their personalities? How easily could they fit that back into the modern Marvel narrative, and how would fans feel about it?

10. Animated theatrical universes should be considered--The DC Universe Animated Original Movies reigned for a long time, but the films were direct-to-video and pretty underrated and had several universes that they took place in. It'd be interesting if a major animation company worked on it--though probably not a big-name, since a cinematic universe would block the development of other films.

[ellswritings]

In My Corner

(Part 1), (Part 2), Part 3, (Part 4)

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: As always, angst. Phil being messy. Jon and Joseph being protective brothers. LA Knight being a flirt. Another flashback. (No Dolph’s were hurt in the making of this chapter).

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling, @scream4mami

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

It had been two weeks since Survivor Series. Two weeks since the return of CM Punk. Y/N taped her wrists carefully as she heard the crowd cheer loudly for Bobby Lashley as he just defeated Karrion Kross. She wasn’t scheduled to fight that night, so she remained in a sports-bra like top and a pair of comfortable sweats. Her only appearance tonight would be to interfere with Jimmy and Solo’s match against Randy and LA Knight. She would show up near the end, providing an assist to her Bloodline brothers so they could try to get the upper hand, but it ends up not working. It’s brilliant planning and foreshadowing on the writers' parts to have Jimmy and Solo lose this match, especially since Jimmy had already left the faction and came back all in the same year.

Joe isn’t there tonight, and since Colby is contracted to Raw, he doesn’t appear on SmackDown unless it’s a special occasion. She’s just happy that she has Jimmy and Solo there. If she didn’t, she doesn’t know if she’d be able to handle seeing Phil tonight.

Y/N finishes wrapping her hands, using the tape as an anchor to keep her mind from drifting along the river of thoughts that seems everflowing. She usually wraps her hands even if she doesn’t fight. It’s almost like a protective shield for her, showing that she’s always ready for a fight.

It had been a habit since she could remember. Something she always did no matter what the circumstances. And then when she met Phil, someone who did the same thing for the same reasons, even incorporating it as a part of his gear, it made her feel less crazy.

Y/N shakes her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not now. She needs to pay attention to the screen. As the show gets closer to the end, she can’t miss her cue.

“Hey you.”

The pensive woman looks up, noticing a smiling Cody Rhodes standing over her, his suit perfectly tailored to him. She’s always admired the way he looks so put together no matter the chaos ensuing around him. Right now they’re showing videos of the veterans and Troops they’ve had the pleasure of visiting in the past, so it gives her a moment to breathe.

“Hey,” she greets, scooting over on the bench she’s occupying to make room for the man.

He takes the silent offer, sliding down next to her, bumping her shoulder playfully with his. “You doing okay? You’ve been unusually quiet tonight.”

Y/N sends him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yeah, I’m good. Guess it just feels weird not having a match.”

“You’ve defended the championship pretty much every week since getting it,” he says with a light chuckle. “I think it’s okay for you to take a break.” There’s a stretch of silence that falls between th, Cody tilting his head as he reads her like a book. “But you don’t have to lie to me, you know that right?”

Y/N furrows her brows, fiddling with the bracelet a fan made her. “What do you mean?”

“I know that’s not why you haven’t been yourself tonight,” he clarifies. Y/N opens her mouth to protest, but Cody stops her. He places a caring hand on her knee, one that she appreciates more than words could ever express. “I’ve known you for a long time, Y/N. Hell, we’ve been friends for most of it. So I can tell when you’re lying. Talk to me. I don’t have another segment for at least forty-five minutes so I got time.” He smiles gently.

Y/N exhales, allowing the tension to slip from her shoulders. Cody has always had that magic presence to make everything feel less heavy than it actually is. He’s right, they’ve been friends since forever. He knows her better than she realizes sometimes. But then flashbacks of when they had to fake a relationship for the camera back during his Stardust days makes her nose crinkle with joy and embarrassment. It was fun doing it, going out and getting a reaction from the crowd. But now that they’ve grown, matured, some of the dialogue and very… tense moments they shared makes them laugh.

“I guess it just feels weird… seeing him back, y’know?” She swallows thickly. “I was kinda hoping he’d already be signed to Raw so I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him here, but,” she shrugs, “c’est la vie.”

“Ah, French,” Cody says teasingly. “This must really be gettin’ to you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, slapping his bicep, “Shut up. That just summed up my thoughts the best.”

“You shouldn’t be letting his comeback drag you down, Y/N/N,” Cody tells her meaningfully. “Just don’t think about him, okay?” He rubs her shoulder tenderly. “You’re both talented, you both belong here, and thankfully, this company happens to be big enough for the both of you.”

Y/N knew he was right. His logic always managed to put everything in perspective. Cody’s been friends with both her and Phil for a long time, so if anyone would give her an unbiased opinion, it would be him.

Cody’s hand lingered on her shoulder just long enough to be steadying without overstepping. He leaned back against the bench beside her, casting a quick glance at the monitor before looking back down at her with that quiet steadiness she’d come to rely on.

“Look, I say this as your friend and as somebody who’s watched you claw your way to the top from day one,” he started, voice soft but certain. “You’re the Undisputed Women’s Champion. Not by accident. Not because someone handed it to you. Because you earned it. Every match, every bump, every sleepless night you spent studying tapes and fighting through pain—you did that.”

Y/N looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers against the tape around them. She didn’t say anything.

“So don’t let any man—past or present—make you feel small about that,” Cody added, more firmly now.

Her throat tightened, but she managed a small nod. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” he agreed, letting out a breath. “But just because it’s complicated doesn’t mean you forget who the hell you are.”

That pulled a soft laugh from her. “You’re really on a roll with the motivational speeches tonight.”

“Hey, I save my best stuff for the people I care about.” He gave her a sideways smile. “And you know I mean that. I mean, Liberty calls you Auntie. That makes you family.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up despite the weight in her chest. “How is she?”

“Oh, she’s good. Obsessed with Frozen again. The other day she told Brandi she wants to grow up to be a wrestler and a snow queen. I told her to talk to you for pointers on both.”

Y/N chuckled, finally leaning into the comfort of the moment. “I’ve got a sparkly robe somewhere in my gear bag. She can borrow it.”

“She’s gonna lose her mind,” Cody grinned. “She already asked if you’re coming to her tea party next weekend.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Y/N said, her voice finally lighter. “Tell her I’m bringing tiaras.”

“Good. You’re her favorite, you know.”

“Only because I let her do my makeup.”

Cody gave a small shake of his head, smile lingering. “You’ve always been that person. The one people feel safe with. That’s rare in this business.”

There was a beat of silence as Y/N let that sink in.

But then a loud static fills the room making Y/N freeze up on the spot.

“LOOK IN MY EYES, WHAT DO YOU SEE…”

The speakers on the monitor flared to life, and Phil Brooks stepped onto the stage on the screen in front of them.

Y/N suddenly forgets Cody’s sitting next to her, her attention being fully drawn to the man that just appeared on the monitor.

Cody’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back to her. He didn’t say anything right away—just shifted slightly, like he might try to shield her from it if he could.

Y/N’s arms wrapped loosely around herself. She stared at the screen, jaw clenched, watching as Phil soaked in the roar of the crowd like he belonged there.

He always did, she thought bitterly. No matter how long he was gone, he always walked in like he owned it.

“You okay?” Cody asked gently, his voice lower now.

Y/N nodded slowly, even if it was a lie. “I will be.”

She reached for the tape again—something to keep her hands busy, to ground her in the moment.

Then, softer: “Tell Liberty I’m bringing glitter too.”

Cody smiled, just a little. “She’ll love that.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off her.

And she didn’t take her eyes off the screen.

It feels like everything around her fades as she watches him climb into the ring with ease. His upper half is adorned with his new merch shirt, the words “Hell Froze Over” covering the front in bold letters. His hair is cropped much shorter than in the early days. He even went through a bald phase after losing to Rey Mysterio, but he’s never had it like this. It looks good. He looks good. And Y/N hates that she can even admit that.

But she would be lying to herself if she said otherwise. His biceps flex out of the sleeves in an effortless way, his smile lights up the whole damn arena more than the fixtures above him ever could. He looks happy, like he found his purpose again. The pop from the crowd is insane as they all sing his song to him, some chanting his name instead. It brings her back to a time when they’d come out together and it would feel just like that. Like they were on top of the world.

A surge of pain pangs through her heart as she forces herself to swallow the memories. She feels Cody lace his hand through hers in an attempt to comfort her, but it’s no use. She’s already stuck watching and anyone could see that it’s a losing battle to try and get her to stop.

His smirk is the same she remembered, but with an even larger amount of confidence and his lip ring missing. He runs a lap around the squared circle before grabbing a mic from one of the stagehands in the far right corner.

“Ladies and gentleman, I have some good news!” He announces excitedly, that contagious grin never leaving his lips. “It’s the top of the nine o’clock hour, and that means I’m not the end of the show, I’m not gonna get my time cut.” He points to the audience, his voice booming throughout the arena. “You wanna chant, you go ahead and chant!”

The crowd erupts once more, his name the only mantra on their tongues. He soaks in the attention like he always did, his head tilted back like their simple words healed any and every affliction he’s ever had. Her eyes rake over his tattoos, the ones she traced over and over again a million times. She knew him like she knew the lines to her favorite movie, and no matter how hard she tried to forget his features, she never could.

“You guys do understand that Adam Pearce is trying to sign me to Monday Night Raw, right?” He asks with a teasing tone, trying to elicit more cheers from the audience. He was always good at getting the people riled up. The room fills with boos and pleads for him to stay right here on SmackDown. “I think they were a little bit louder on Raw, don’t you?” The crowd screams no, booing even louder than before which makes Phil stop and laugh. He’s elated, eyes bright at the reception he’s been receiving. And no one could blame him. Everyone loves CM Punk.

Y/N felt her stomach twist watching him laugh that way. She missed that laugh for years, the one that he only reserved for when he was truly happy. Which way back when was extremely rare. But right now, he seems laidback, different from the prickly man she remembered. It’s as if he cut every cancer out of his life and was left with nothing but the euphoric feeling of freedom.

She didn’t see that smile often when they were partners, but she got to see it more than others. Part of her wonders that maybe she could’ve been the reason it was hard for him to feel this way. Happy, at home. An inexplicable sadness floods her veins at the thought that maybe, just maybe leaving not only the company, but her was the best decision for him.

“That’s the question of the hour I’m getting: CM Punk, now that you’re back in the WWE, where are you gonna sign? And I feel fortunate that I get to take this journey with y’all, because I’m partly gonna leave it up to you,” he gestures out to the audience who cheers loudly. “So do you want me to sign and be a Monday Night Superstar?” More boos ensue which causes him to laugh once more, sticking his tongue out and raising his eyebrows like he had just pulled the prank of the century.

“I– I legit I– I can’t hear you,” he mockingly raises a hand to his ear to try and make the audience louder. “Did you want me sign to be Friday Night SmackDown exclusive?”

The screams are deafening even through the monitor. People stand up out of their seats, exclaiming just how badly they want him on Friday Nights. Y/N can hear her own heart thumping in her chest. If he really does leave this decision partly up to the audience, there might be a larger possibility of him sticking around.

“Do you want me to throw twenty-nine other superstars over the top rope? And then climb this turnbuckle and point at a sign and main event WrestleMania?!” He gets closer to the camera, his eyes challenging every single person on the roster.

Y/N knew this wasn’t scripted. Creative must have given him free reign for his return speech. He’s always been good with words, so why wouldn’t they? If anyone knows how important main eventing the biggest function in the wrestling industry is to him, it’s her. They talked about it for years. Many late nights of them staying up, her listening to him vent out his frustrations every time he was passed over. He had come close so many times, but no one ever gave him the chance. She remembers telling him on multiple occasions that one day he would. He would live out his dream of being the main event.

Little did they know, she would do it before he ever could.

The crowd continues to scream and cheer wildly. His name is the hottest chant of the night. She swears she can even hear some of the superstars outside of the locker room backstage chanting along quietly as well.

“An old friend of mine that welcomes me back home with open arms, famously likes to come out here and say…” He leans closer to the microphone, eyes scanning across the crowd playfully. “What do you guys wanna talk about?”

Everyone yells happily at the reference to the American Nightmare. Y/N feels Cody tense next to her, nervous of how she might react to the mention of him being friendly to Phil. She simply moves one of her hands up to her shoulder where his is and laces their fingers together. He visibly relaxes, taking her touch as a gentle affirmation. She might not have stopped looking at the screen, but at least she’s aware of her surroundings.

“And I’m famous for talking. It’s kind of what I do. But I also have been listening, and I hear there’s a few people that are a little bit upset. They don’t like the happy, go-lucky CM Punk. They don’t like the CM Punk that says, ‘Hey, I love you guys.’”

Y/N shifts uncomfortably on the bench. He wouldn’t know about how she was feeling. He couldn’t know. She’s only vocalized it to the people she’s close to. And it’s not the fact she doesn’t like seeing this version of him, it’s just that truthfully, she doesn’t want to see him at all.

He continues to soak in the crowd's reaction before continuing on. “I’m home, and I'm glad to be home. So I listen and hear, and I understand that. So allow me to turn this up to eleven. Allow me to be that spicy CM Punk you all know and love.” The pop grows even louder at the thought of hearing him speak his mind. Y/N’s leg starts bouncing up and down nervously. She doesn’t know what to expect. “Allow me to get comfortable at home. This is me putting my feet up on the couch and my feet got a lot of mud all over ‘em, ladies and gentlemen.” He wipes his feet on the mat below as if scraping off the gunk on his shoes.

“So, it’s not what do y’all wanna talk about? It’s… who do you want me to talk about?”

He sticks his arms out to the side, waiting to hear a coherent answer from the audience. He cups his hand around his ear as a way to get them to yell louder. Y/N feels her heart pounding in her stomach at this point. It’s like waiting for a huge bomb to drop and there’s nothing she can do about it. She can’t run, she can’t hide, she can’t stop it, she just has to sit there and watch. She’s frozen.

“Do you want me to talk about Cody Rhodes? I could tell you some stories.” Punk laughs heartily, the audience joining him at the thought of hearing some embarrassing moments about the quarterback of the company. “Or do you want me to talk about someone who’s not here?” The crowd grows louder, knowing exactly who they’re referencing.

The Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns.

Or as Y/N knows him, one of her best friends.

Her free hand clenches, nails digging into the taped skin of her palm. Thankfully the tape is there or she would have punctured the soft tissue on impact. “By the sounds of it, someone who’s never here.” Punk stares directly into the camera, showing just how unafraid he is. “Roman Reigns.”

Ones shoot up in the air as an acknowledgment to their Chief. Y/N smiles softly at the loyalty of the fans. No matter who tries to tear down Roman, they still have the support of their fan base, and that’s all that matters.

“Tribal Chief, I acknowledge you. Congratulations on all your success.” There’s a short pause, “Don’t forget who the OG Paul Heyman guy is.” The audience goes absolutely wild at that statement. The storyline he set up with just that one line is more powerful than anything else he could have done. He paces across the ring, jaw clenched. “Don’t forget that he was my Wise Man first.”

He cups his jaw, only just getting started on his list of names. “Now, Roman may not be here… But his cousins are.” A mix of boos and cheers echo throughout the arena. “Solo, a big tough son of a gun that I don’t know, but I’m familiar with his brother Jimmy Uso.” He jumps from one twin to the other, “By the way, shout out to Main Event Jey Uso, who’s over on Monday Night Raw.” Yeet is yelled out across the building along with loud cheers. “I see you, Uce. These are the things that I have to wrestle with. Do I want to go to Monday Night Raw and hang out with Jey Uso?” There’s another mix of boos and cheers. “Or do I want to stay here on SmackDown and scrap with Jimmy Uso?”

Only cheers are heard from that one. Due to it being a SmackDown audience, it’s not surprising this is where they want him to sign. Y/N would love to see him try and get involved with the Bloodline. There’s a reason they’re one of the most dominant factions in history.

“But if I scrap with Jimmy Uso. Holy gosh, he’s got a lot of cousins.” He smirks at his own joke, the audience roaring at his sense of humor. “I’m talking like endless Samoans, right? So if I’m going to scrap with him, I’m going to need backup. And they’re in tag team action tonight. Can I trust a guy who I have history with? Who hears voices in his head?” He points his finger to his temple, getting directly in front of the camera as he lets the audience cheer for Randy. “Can I tag with Randy Orton? I don’t know, are we gonna get alone? Are we not gonna get along? It’ll probably be entertaining either way, right?”

“One guy I’m pretty positive that would tag with me is Randy’s partner tonight. And his name is,” he points out to the audience the same way Shaun does, the audience responding with “L…A… Knight. YEAH!” as if it was really the man himself doing it. “Yeah,” Phil nods in confirmation. “Who else?” He looks back out to the audience before suddenly remembering something. “Oh. Someone said Kevin Owens.” They all scream in unison. “Kevin Owens. That’d be interesting, right? Can I tag with Kevin Owens? Maybe I can fight Kevin Owens.”

He puts his hand up, pausing the conversation. “Let’s pump the brakes on that one just for a second. Kevin’s a little bit prickly. And I mean to say, is that him and I are probably too much alike, and I don’t know who would feel comfortable working with somebody who randomly just punches people in the face backstage.” He shakes his head, adjusting the neckline of his shirt. “I mean, it’s 2023, ladies and gentlemen. You just can’t be doing stuff like that. That’s insane.” He chuckles almost as if he doesn’t even believe his own words. Like he’s saying it just to entice a reaction.

The crowd suddenly starts chanting his name once more which only makes his smile grow wider. “Everybody is happy to see CM Punk, even JBL,” he points over to the announce table teasingly. “Everybody’s welcomed me back with open arms.” His face scrunches up, two fingers shooting out as he reconsiders his words. “Except for these two people.” He smiles into the camera. “There’s always those few bad apples that spoil the bunch, am I right? But I’m not gonna put any stock in anything they need to say. And it’s not just because one of them has a whiny voice, and the other just goes along with whatever he says.”

He paused, pacing the ring with deliberate slowness, gaze sweeping the audience like he was handpicking someone to shoot down next. The smirk sharpened.

“It’s because one of them still has to ask permission to speak. Man walks around here like he’s top dog, but every time he opens his mouth, you can practically hear someone else’s hand up his back, pulling the strings. He wants to be the architect, but he’s never built anything that didn’t collapse the second someone else stopped holding it up.”

The crowd reacted in waves — gasps, laughter, a few savage claps. They even start to sing Seth’s entrance theme. He nods along, “That’s about all he’s got is that song, keep it up.” He allows them to finish their singing, orchestrating along in an almost mocking way.

Phil’s eyes narrow just slightly. His tone softens, not in kindness, but in control — the way a man wields a weapon with precision. “And the other—” he pauses and taps his chest twice, “—used to be closer to me than anyone else in this business. She knows who she is.” He lifts the mic from his lips for just a second, letting the suspense breathe.

Y/N’s throat tightens. She doesn’t blink. Her fingers tighten around Cody’s, but her eyes never leave the screen.

Her name is suddenly the only thing people are screaming. Phil doesn’t smirk though the way he did with Seth. In fact, his eyes storm in a way she hadn’t seen for the entire segment.

“She didn’t shake my hand when I walked back through the curtain,” Phil continues. “Didn’t text. Didn’t look at me backstage. Just turned her head and walked the other direction.” His jaw flexes. “You’d think after all the years we spent side-by-side — fighting the same fights, standing up for the same things — maybe she’d be happy I’m still breathing. Guess not.”

The crowd grows quieter, sensing this part isn’t for them. It’s personal. Intimate. Sharp-edged.

Y/N’s vision blurs slightly, and she has to blink to make sure she isn’t crying. She's not. But she feels like she could be.

Cody shifts beside her. “You okay?” he whispers.

She doesn't answer. She can’t. Her eyes are locked on the screen, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Phil walks to the ropes, leaning on them with one forearm, his voice lowering even more. “You know, I used to think you were the realest person I’d ever met.”

She felt it before he even said it. That quiet twisting in her stomach — the part of her that already knew he was about to go there.

“But real people don’t cry on rooftops at 2 a.m., telling someone how terrified they are that they’re unlovable… and then punish them the second someone actually dares to love them.”

The reaction to that wasn’t loud either. No pop. No laughs. No gasps. Just a hush — that awful, collective pause where everyone wasn’t sure if it had gone too far, or if they just didn’t understand the weight of it.

But she understood.

Every syllable dug in like broken glass under skin. Not because it was untrue — but because it was. And because nobody else knew what it meant, but they could feel how much it mattered.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

And just like that, she was back on the rooftop. Wind whipping her hair across her face. Knees hugged to her chest. Phil beside her, not saying anything. Just listening. Just being there — when she’d needed him the most.

Before everything fell apart.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

It was nearly two in the morning when Phil knocked on her hotel room door for the third time.

No answer.

He shifted from one foot to the other, jaw tight, a gnawing unease rising in his chest. She’d texted him earlier — a halfhearted reply to a joke he’d sent, which was already weird. Y/N never gave him half anything.

He banged on the door again. “Y/N, c’mon. I brought pizza,” he said, trying for humor. “It’s cold now, and I’m pretty sure the delivery guy spit in it, but I thought of you. I’m such a sweetheart, right?”

Still nothing.

Phil ran a hand through his hair and stepped back, scanning the hallway. It was late. Most of the roster was out drinking or already passed out. He glanced at the elevator — no clue what possessed him to bypass it — and took the stairs.

Then he heard it.

Soft, broken sobs echoing up the narrow concrete stairwell like a haunted melody. He froze, every muscle going rigid.

He knew that sound.

It was her.

He took the steps two at a time, heart hammering in his chest. As he rounded the next landing, he saw her — curled up in the corner of the stairwell, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, hair messy, cheeks red and blotchy, eyes glassy with tears she was trying and failing to hold back.

“Jesus…” he breathed.

She didn’t notice him at first, too lost in whatever hell she was drowning in.

“Y/N.” His voice cracked a little more than he liked. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Her head stayed buried between her legs, her voice coming out muffled. “Go away.”

He didn’t.

Phil crouched beside her, unsure of what to say, how to be. This wasn’t his thing — tears, breakdowns, emotional spirals. He barely knew how to manage his own, let alone someone else’s. But this was her.

And seeing her like this — Y/N, his loud-mouthed, unbreakable, ride-or-die best friend — looking like she’d been shattered into glass — it did something to him. Hurt something in him.

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said, voice low. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head, still not looking up. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He sat fully beside her, ignoring how uncomfortable the concrete felt against his back. “C’mon. Is it your ankle? Did someone say something? Did Vince finally find the video of you flipping him off behind the Titantron?”

A breath hitched in her throat that almost sounded like a laugh. But it was strangled, short-lived. She finally lifted head just enough to meet his eyes, it knocked the air out of him.

Her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, filled with panic and something far worse: shame.

Phil had taken chair shots to the head that hurt less than the look she was giving him right now.

“What happened, Y/N/N?” he asked, and his hand twitched—wanting to touch her but not knowing how. “You’re scaring the hell outta me.”

“I—I can’t breathe.” Her voice cracked. “I feel like—I don’t know how to—” she gasped, trying to swallow her own shaking. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

That was enough. Screw awkwardness.

Phil finally leaned over with surprising gentleness, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She tensed immediately—like a live wire. But when he didn’t move, didn’t push, didn’t speak, just stayed—something cracked.

A sound escaped her, half-sob, half-sigh. Then she reached for him. Not just lightly—desperately.

She grabbed the collar of his hoodie with both hands, yanking him close, and buried her face in his chest like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her above water.

Phil’s throat tightened. He wrapped his arms around her fully then, shielding her from everything—the cold concrete, the silence, the fucking world.

They stayed like that for a long time.

His voice finally broke the stillness. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

She shook her head against him.

“You don’t have to be tough with me, Y/N. I know you. I know when you’re pretending. And right now you’re barely holding it together.”

Her grip on his hoodie tightened.

“I trusted him,” she whispered, voice ragged. “I really thought…”

Phil went still.

“Dolph?”

Y/N gave the faintest nod. “I caught him. With someone from the ring crew. Said it didn’t mean anything.”

Phil pulled back just enough to see her face. “He what?”

She looked away, wiping at her eyes quickly. “Don’t—don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Too late,” he growled. “I’m gonna beat his peroxide-blonde ass into the ground.”

“No, Phil—” she grabbed his wrist.

“He’s a grown-ass man, Y/N. He doesn’t get to treat you like a side piece. Like—like you’re disposable.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, voice breaking. “You think I don’t feel stupid already?”

Phil’s mouth opened, but she wasn’t done.

“I don’t think I’m loveable.”

Phil’s stomach dropped.

“What?” he asked, stunned.

She looked away. “I don’t think I’m the kind of person people stay for. I’m too much. Too intense. Too fucking angry all the time. I say the wrong thing, I push people away, I’m exhausting, I—”

“Stop.” He grabbed her shoulders gently but firmly. “Don’t you ever say that shit to me again.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, silent and hot.

“You are the most loveable person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raw now. “You just don’t see it. You don’t see what I see.”

She blinked.

“You are so loveable, and he didn’t do what he did because you aren’t. He did it because he wouldn’t know a good thing if it knocked his fucking teeth out,” he continued, anger sparking off every word. “You walk into a room and it’s like—everything makes more sense. Even the chaos. And yeah, you’re stubborn and you’re sarcastic and half the time you look like you wanna bite someone’s head off, but you care. You care so deeply, and no one ever sees that but me.”

He paused, jaw flexing.

“I see it. I always have.”

Y/N stared at him like she couldn’t breathe.

Silence stretched between them, thick with heat and heartbreak. His hand rose slowly to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. And then—he leaned in. Just slightly. Their faces were so close now. Too close.

Her breath hitched. Her hand was still gripping his hoodie.

But just as his nose brushed hers—just as he almost closed the distance—

She froze.

And so did he.

Because that was the moment the weight of everything came crashing back.

Neither of them said her name. They didn’t have to. She was the elephant in the room. The one waiting in a hotel bed a few floors up, wondering why Phil hadn’t come back yet.

He exhaled shakily and pulled back, just an inch.

Y/N let go of his collar like it burned her.

And the space between them filled with every unspoken thing neither of them were ready to say.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Cody felt the shift in her. He sighs, trying his best to get her to face him and look away from the screen. Y/N’s limp form goes along with the movement, still lost in the memory from long ago. The American Nightmare lifts her head up, forcing her eyes to meet his, and that’s when he sees it. The tears she’s barely keeping at bay. He doesn’t know the depth of what Punk said, but it clearly cut deep.

The silence between them was louder than any crowd pop Y/N had ever heard. She sat on the bench, elbows resting on her knees, trembling hands pressed together like she was trying to hold herself together. But the damage had already been done.

Phil’s words were still echoing in her head, louder than the speakers that had blasted them across the arena minutes ago. He knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. But using that? Using that moment against her, on a live mic, in front of thousands?

It wasn’t just a low blow. It was betrayal.

Cody watches her with careful eyes. He’s seen people unravel in this business, he knows what it looks like. This wasn’t that, but it was close enough.

He didn’t know what to say to make it better, to make it go away. The silence stretched on for about a minute or so before she finally broke it. Her voice is low and flat, a way of hiding her true emotions from plain sighs.

“I should’ve known…” she lets out a biting laugh. “I should’ve known he’d pull some stupid shit like that.”

“Y/N, no one expected him to do that,” Cody tries to bring her down. “Sure, maybe a small insult here and there, but nothing like that.”

She shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek. “You know better than anyone. Phil knows exactly where to hit to get the reaction he wants. He doesn’t throw punches that don’t land. He never has.”

The blonde man next to her sighs, running a hand over his face. He wasn’t expecting this amount of drama so soon. He figured something was coming, just not now. “I just didn’t think you’d be the one he threw the punch at.”

“Phil’s never been the forgiving type,” Y/N mutters. “I knew it would be me.” She stands up with a grunt, wiping the make believe sweat on her pants. “Just goes to show I place my trust in the wrong people.” She opens and closes her fist, anger starting to slowly seep from her. “I didn’t tell anyone about what happened that night. Not even my own family. Just him. And he used it as some sort of punchline.”

Cody watches her from his spot on the bench, quiet for a brief beat. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But I want you to know… what he said doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you look broken. It makes him look like a damn coward.”

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, letting a shaky breath out of her nose. She was doing everything she could not to feel anything. It made no sense how the man she used to trust more than anyone managed to hurt her the most.

But she couldn’t deny… she had hurt him first.

“Don’t,” she shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to patch this up. He’s your friend too. You don’t need to insult him to boost my ego.”

“I’m not,” Cody denies. “I’m just telling the truth. He may be my friend, but that was a dick move.”

Y/N opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She truly didn’t know what to say. That’s when she glanced up at the clock on the wall. She starts fidgeting with her taped hands again, barely able to look at Cody. “You have another segment with him in like fifteen. You should go.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m not gonna be the reason you’re late, Cody,” she cuts him off. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Her voice had a different edge to it now– commanding, clipped. The kind she wore like a suit of armor to guard her from anything emotional that could hurt her.

Cody finally stands, his lips parted slightly, hands open in front of him. His right arm moves up slightly like he’s going to reach out and comfort her, but he stopped himself. She didn’t want nor need him right now. Just remember who you are, alright? You’re one of the toughest people in this building. Don’t let him rewrite your story.”

She didn’t answer. Just grabbed her jacket off the hook and yanked the door open. The hallway was buzzing with quiet tension, people pretending to scroll on their phones, pretending not to be watching her. But they were. Everyone was.

Everyone knew.

She was trying to walk off the fury in her bones, but every step only made it worse. Her eyes burned. Her throat ached. And the image of him, standing out there with that smug half-smile and venom on his tongue, played on a loop in her head. Over and over again.

Then she heard it.

“Yo, Y/N!”

She looked up, and there they were, rounding the corner like sentinels.

Jonathan and Joseph Fatu — her brothers in every way that mattered.

Jon’s gold chains clinked as he stomped toward her, shoulders squared, eyes dark. He didn’t wait for her to speak. Just stopped in front of her, looking her up and down like he was checking for wounds.

“You good?” he asked. But it wasn’t a casual question. It was a loaded one. A don’t lie to me right now, not you kind of question.

Y/N didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Joseph stepped in beside him, arms crossed over his chest, jaw locked so tight it looked like he could grind diamonds. “We heard what that piece of shit said.”

Jon’s voice cut in, sharp and cold. “You want me to handle it? I will. I swear to God, I’ll go down to that locker room and make sure that man never says another word with a full set of teeth.”

“Jon—” she started.

“I’m serious, sis.” His chest was rising and falling too fast now, like just saying it out loud made his blood boil all over again. “He came for you. Not your character, not your spot, not some storyline. You. And he doesn’t get to do that. Not while I’m walkin’ this earth.”

Joseph’s arms dropped to his sides, fists clenched now. Quiet rage radiated off him like heat. “Say the word,” he muttered. “And I’ll make sure he regrets ever stepping foot back in this company.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Not from fear. From the overwhelming weight of being loved like this.

She stepped forward, placing a hand on Jon’s chest and another on Joseph’s arm. “No. You can’t. You’ve got a match tonight. That’s where your focus needs to be.”

“You think I give a damn about the match right now?” Jon snapped.

“I do,” she shot back, her voice cracking under the strain. “Because I know what it cost us to get here. What it cost you. Don’t let him take your moment, too.”

There was silence. Heavy and charged.

Jon dragged a hand over his face, breathing hard, then looked down at her. Really looked. “I’m gonna be honest with you… I ain’t felt rage like that in a long time. And I’ve felt some rage, Y/N.”

“I know,” she whispered, voice softening. “Believe me, I know. I want to put my fist through his smug-ass face too.”

Joseph finally spoke, his voice quiet but solid as stone. “We’d burn the world for you, y’know that right?”

Y/N’s throat tightened so fast it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I know,” she smiles softly, looking between them, heart pounding. “You two are my whole heart. You know that, right?”

“We know,” Jon said, nodding.

Joseph gave a small grunt of agreement and pulled her into a one-armed hug — tight, grounding, unshakable. Jon stepped in on the other side and wrapped her in his arms, both of them holding her in the middle like a fortress.

No cameras. No audience. Just them.

They were warriors, all three of them — bruised, hardened, and born to fight. But in that second, they were just family. Just love.

Jon pulled back slightly, thumb brushing the side of her cheek. “We got you, sis. Always. No matter how far he digs, no matter what he says. You’re untouchable to us.”

Y/N managed a small, tearful laugh. “Remind me to never piss you two off.”

Joseph’s lip twitched into the closest thing he had to a smile. “Too late.”

They all chuckled softly, and for a second, the world felt manageable again.

Jon gave her one last squeeze. “We love you. Remember that. Now go do what you do best. Prove that motherfucker wrong just by walking out there.”

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard, eyes burning again — but this time for a different reason. “I love you both.”

“We know,” Joseph said again, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

And then they let her go.

Not because they wanted to.

But because they trusted her to handle it.

She watched them walk off toward gorilla, her brothers. Her soldiers. Her heart. And she stood there for another moment, pressing her hand to her chest as if trying to hold herself together with sheer will.

Phil may have tried to humiliate her. But she wasn’t alone. She had a family that filled the gap in her life he created.

With a deep breath, Y/N continues on backstage. The show moves on, and thankfully she doesn’t see Phil for the remainder of it. Before she even realizes it, it’s almost time for her to interfere in Jimmy and Solo’s match. The boys have already made their entrance, LA Knight going down now. Y/N finds herself waiting in gorilla, cracking her neck as she waits for her cue.

The small area buzzed with activity— producers speaking into headsets, agents double-checking cues, a stagehand calling out times. Y/N stood off to the side, arms crossed, head low as she got into character. She forced any thoughts that weren’t about her entrance to the back of her mind. The audience deserved her one hundred percent effort and she can’t give it to them if she’s distracted.

Then suddenly she felt a presence behind her. Calm. Steady.

Randy.

She didn’t look up at first. Just stared ahead, heart beating like a war drum in her chest.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stood next to her, his usual relaxed posture somehow even more grounded tonight. As if he was anchoring her to the floor.

“Hey,” he said finally. Low. Even.

She glanced up, surprised by the softness in his tone.

He looked at her — really looked — and then nodded slowly. “You good?”

Y/N gave him a weak half-smile. “Depends on your definition of good.”

Randy gave a small chuckle. “Fair enough.”

There was another beat of silence before he continued, voice steady and sure.

“Listen. I’ve seen a lot of shit in this business. People talk. People twist knives. But you…” He looked at her, his eyes clearer than usual. “You’re still standing. Still swinging. That makes you a badass in my book.”

Her breath caught slightly.

Randy wasn’t the type to hand out compliments like candy. When he said something like that, he meant it.

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice even further. “What Phil did? That wasn't cool. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t crumble. You’re still here.”

Y/N tried to laugh, but it came out half-sigh, half-snort. “I feel like crumbling.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “feelings are bullshit.”

She smiled then — a real one — and he saw it. His smirk grew just a little.

“I’m serious,” he added, gently nudging her shoulder with his own. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And I’ve been in this company longer than half the damn furniture.”

Y/N gave a soft laugh. “You’re not that old, Orton.”

“I’m ancient,” he deadpanned. “Practically fossilized.”

She shook her head, but the knot in her chest loosened just a little. That was Randy’s gift — he didn’t coddle, didn’t sugarcoat, but he knew how to show up when it mattered.

“You know,” he said, glancing toward the curtain as his music cue got closer, “Phil thinks he got the upper hand tonight. Thinks he exposed something.”

He turned back to her, gaze sharp now — not angry, but protective. Fierce.

“But all he did was show the world that even at your lowest, you’re still more real than he’ll ever be.”

Y/N’s throat tightened again.

“I mean it,” he said. “You're a fighter. You're family. And tonight? You’ve already won.”

She blinked fast, not trusting herself to speak. So instead, she reached out and squeezed his forearm — a silent thank you.

Randy held her gaze for another long second, then nodded once.

That was all he needed.

Then he turned and walked through the curtain, the first beats of his theme hitting the arena like thunder.

Y/N stood there, pulse still racing, but her chest lighter than it had been all night.

“Voices” was still echoing through the arena as Randy Orton sauntered to the ring, arms stretched wide like he owned every inch of it.

And he did — the crowd erupted like a bomb, chanting his name, stomping feet in rhythm with the music. He didn’t acknowledge them much. Just that signature smirk as he rolled his shoulders and locked eyes with his opponents across the ring.

Solo Sikoa stood like a brick wall in his corner, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Jimmy Uso bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, rolling his neck, eyes narrowed at Orton. Beside them, LA Knight leaned back against the ropes in his usual cocky posture, smirking like he’d already won.

The ref checked all four men before calling for the bell.

DING DING DING

Solo launched forward first, locking up with LA Knight in a violent grapple that took them stumbling into the ropes. Knight tried to use speed to his advantage, ducking out and landing a few sharp jabs, but Solo caught him mid-move and tossed him across the ring with brutal force.

“Damn!” one of the commentators yelled. “Solo Sikoa treating LA Knight like a sack of potatoes!”

Knight scrambled to tag out, slapping Randy’s chest harder than necessary. Orton stepped through the ropes slowly — deliberately — and rolled his neck like a predator sizing up prey.

Y/N watched all of it from the curtain. Heart pounding. Breathing shallow. She hated being backstage like this — watching people she loved fight it out while she just stood still. Waiting.

She gripped the edge of a road case nearby, trying to breathe through the tension in her chest.

Please don’t get hurt. Please don’t get hurt.

Orton and Jimmy now circled each other. The crowd was split — dueling chants rising up from every corner of the arena.

“LET’S GO ORTON!”

“US-O! US-O!”

Jimmy struck first — fast superkick attempt that Orton narrowly dodged. He caught Jimmy with a textbook powerslam that rattled the ring, and immediately tried to go for the cover.

One—Kick out.

It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Orton was grinning now, stalking Jimmy like a wolf, muttering trash talk low enough that the cameras barely caught it. Jimmy spat blood and gave a wobbly grin back. “That all you got, old man?”

And then he struck — sudden, sharp enziguri that caught Randy flush in the jaw. The crowd roared as Jimmy crawled over, slapping Solo’s arm for the hot tag.

Solo exploded into the ring like a storm. Clothesline to Randy. Spinning heel kick to Knight. Samoan drop on Orton — and the ring shook again.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Come on, boys. Just keep going. You're killing it.

But then she saw it — the shift.

Randy tagged in LA Knight. And Solo turned his back just a second too long.

Knight chop-blocked his knee. Solo buckled. Knight was on him instantly, hammering fists, dragging him to the corner. Randy joined in from the apron, elbowing Solo’s chest while the ref tried to get control.

That’s her cue. One of the stagehands nods over at her, letting her know it’s her time. Y/N grabs the fabric in her hands before rushing out to the ramp, running as fast as she can down towards the ring. The arena pops the moment her music hits, the screams deafening. Y/N has to fight off her smile, remembering to stay in character for Kayfabe.

She sprinted down the ramp like a bullet, eyes locked on the chaos in the ring. Jimmy had gotten past the ref and was trying to pry Randy off Solo. Knight had slid out, talking trash and backing up like the coward he was.

Y/N didn’t slow. She slid under the bottom rope and tackled Knight straight into the barricade with a pop that sounded vicious.

The crowd lost it.

Knight stumbled, yelling out as she grabbed his collar and slammed him face-first into the edge of the announce table.

“Y/S/N’s had enough!” Corey Graves shouted. “She is unleashing hell out here!”

Orton spun around inside the ring, distracted by the chaos. Jimmy caught him with a huge kick — down went Orton.

For one glorious second, it looked like it was going to work. That was the goal, make everyone think her interference would benefit them. Y/S/N shifts on her feet, getting ready to be stopped. Then Knight surged back up from behind her — faster than expected.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her backward, dragging her away from the ring.

“No! No—let me go!” she screamed, thrashing.

Knight locked his grip tighter and spun her around, slamming her against the barricade. Not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to keep her still.

He discreetly leans down to whisper, “You okay sweetheart?”

Y/N tries not to smile at the genuine concern in his voice. She continues to thrash around but manages to mumble back, “I’m good.”

“‘M not hurting you, am I?”

“No Shaun, you’re good,” Y/N tells him, managing to squeeze his bicep as she continues to fight against him.

Back in the ring, Randy crawled toward Jimmy. Solo tried to pull himself upright on the ropes.

And then it happened.

Randy lunged.

RKO. Outta nowhere.

The crowd erupted.

One. Two. Three.

DING DING DING

LA Knight let her go instantly, raising his arms like he’d done the whole damn thing himself. Orton rolled out of the ring, dazed but victorious. Solo pounded the mat in frustration. Jimmy lay flat on his back, chest rising and falling like a drumbeat.

Y/N just stood there. Frozen.

The crowd was still cheering. Still chanting her name. And for a moment things finally felt normal again. They felt good. This is where she belongs, in the ring with her friends. Suddenly what Punk said didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. As long as she still has this, what he thinks shouldn’t bother her.

But that small voice in the back of her head is still there to remind her. No matter how much time has passed, or how long they’ve been apart, Y/N will always care about what Phil Brooks thinks. Simply because that’s what loving someone means to her. Caring. And there’s no one she loved more than him.

They all head back up the ramp, appearing broken over losing the match as Randy and Knight soak in the applause. They move the curtain aside, Joseph guiding Y/N from behind, Jon from the front. As soon as they’re out of sight, all three of them start laughing and shouting excitedly at how well everything went out there.

“Hell of a match!” Angelo Dawkins shouted as Jimmy clapped Solo on the back, both of them grinning through the sweat and adrenaline.

Stagehands, crew, and talent alike met them with high-fives and claps on the shoulder. There was a distinct buzz in the air — one born not just from a great main event, but from the moment.

The moment she had made that entrance. The moment the crowd lost their minds.

“Yo, Y/N,” a road agent called, shaking his head with a grin, “that pop was insane. You blew the roof off this place.”

She cracked a half-smile, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t bad, huh?”

Jimmy laughed, nudging her with an elbow as they walked through the halls. “Not bad? Ma, they screamed for you like you cured cancer and kicked someone in the teeth at the same time.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “You’re so dramatic.”

Solo stayed quiet, but his hand came to rest gently on her back — a subtle comfort. That was his way. Reserved, steady, loyal to the bone. He didn’t need to say much. She felt it in the way he walked beside her, shielding her from the crowd of bodies.

They were still high on adrenaline when Jimmy threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

“You good, sis?”

She nodded. “Yeah… I’m good. I think I needed that.”

“Damn right you did.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “You a freakin’ rockstar.”

Before she could answer, someone came barreling down the hallway toward them — tall, cocky grin, sweat-soaked hair.

“Whoooo! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” LA Knight’s voice rang out like a shot. He didn’t stop running — just reached her in one clean motion and scooped her off the ground, spinning her in a tight circle as she let out a surprised yelp, laughing uncontrollably.

“Put me down, you lunatic!” she laughed, half-heartedly smacking his shoulder.

He did, but not before flashing that signature grin. “Couldn’t help it. You lit it up out there, sweetheart. Crowd started screamin’ so hard I thought the roof was gonna cave in.”

She chuckled, out of breath, cheeks flushed from the spin. “You always this complimentary after a match?”

“Nah,” he said, with a wink. “Just around women who could kick my ass.”

Y/N’s eyes soften as she feels his hands travel down to her waist. If only Colby was here to see this, he’d be livid. “Well, then maybe you and I will have to mix tag team eventually. Y’know, when you get outta this whole ‘I hate the Bloodline’ thing.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted darlin’,” Shaun smirks. “I hate your pseudo brothers, not the pretty woman Roman keeps by his side at all times. I wouldn’t mind gettin’ to know her.”

Jimmy and Solo were still smirking in the background, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, but not saying anything — at least, not yet.

She and Shaun stood there for a moment, still buzzing, still laughing — two people who had just pulled off a show-stealing moment and were riding the high of it. Easy conversation. Genuine smiles. For a brief second, she looked lighter. Almost…free.

And Phil saw all of it.

From across the hallway — where the crowd of praise and laughter faded into an ugly, bitter blur — he stood with one hand gripping the strap of his bag, the other clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying. He didn’t need to.

He could see it.

That smile. That goddamn laugh.

He’d told himself it didn’t matter. That he’d burned that bridge and salted the earth, and that tonight — everything he’d said in the ring — was a choice. A declaration.

“There's always those few bad apples…” A throwaway dig. He could live with that.

“… someone else’s hand up his back, pulling the strings.”

Low blow? Sure. But he’d said worse.

But then he’d looked her way. And he’d felt it again.

He’d dragged a buried memory out into the open, weaponized a moment that used to mean something — everything — just to prove he could. Just to kill the thing in his chest still clawing for air.

But it didn’t die.

If anything, watching her now — with them — it pulsed even harder, more furious than ever.

The memory of her broken and raw in that stairwell still haunted him. It had become a part of his bones. The way she grabbed his collar. The way she said she wasn’t loveable.

He remembered the smell of her shampoo. The heat of her fingers trembling against his ribs. The way it nearly killed him not to kiss her that night.

And he remembered how, even when he was with April for those few years after he left, he would still look for Y/N everywhere. In the stands at the hockey games he went to since she was his usual watch buddy. In his brief stint in UFC, he had hoped to see her somewhere, even in the crowd during his time in AEW. Every damn time he’d hoped to see her, but he never did.

Tonight, he’d said what he said to erase it. To salt the wound. To move the fuck on.

But now?

Watching her with Jimmy and Solo… watching her laugh into LA Knight’s chest like nothing had ever happened between them…

It didn’t erase a damn thing.

It only made it worse.

Because that version of her — the light, the ease, the wildness in her smile — he’d seen it before. He’d earned it after years of tearing down her walls. He gave her a part of himself that he didn’t give to anyone either. And now?

Anyone who smiles her way, she just lets loose, that past tension she used to carry, completely gone. Now she gave that free-spirited side to everyone else with ease.

Everyone but him.