#「 stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters 」 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

korpuskat · 1 year

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In a Different Light

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader Rating: Explicit WC: 9,256 Warnings: Super vanilla + size difference

He’d become fixated, completely focused on a group of soldiers hiding behind a line of armored vehicles. If he could just dislodge them, they’d have an uncontested avenue deeper into the city. He knows he can rush them, can get in close and punch straight through their cover. He peaks, HUD picking up each heat signature before him- more soldiers to the right than the left.

He doesn’t see the one four stories above them.

”Down!” He recognizes your voice, but doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. He can handle this, doesn’t need your tactical input-

And your arms close around his waist. What? He looks down, takes his optics off the enemy- and he feels your heel kick behind his knee. It’s not nearly enough to buckle him- but he allows himself to go down anyway, dropping into a heap back behind the barricade.

The bullet cuts through a ribbon cable.

You sink back into the seat, weight falling off your shoulders. Under the roar of the engines sliding from VTOL to forward propulsion, your sigh is completely inaudible, utterly silent to everyone. Everyone except Ramattra’s sensitive audials. You close your eyes and lean back, yet unaware of his gaze on you. He watches your pulse reading slow from its rabbit-fast battle-ready pace, lets his optics linger on the long line of your throat. The skin there is thin enough he could feel your heartbeat. His servos itch to reach out and try it.

He had let you pull him down. Why? A snap decision he hadn't even processed consciously. But why did he trust you that much? He scours his deeply-rooted runtimes, searching for what it was about you that had tipped that reaction in your favor. In his favor, given the cable that sparks brightly at the corner of his optics.

He'd nearly crushed you, only landing on his elbow at the last moment. You must've known how badly he could've hurt you; your eyes were wide, breath held in your chest as you looked up to him.

He was touching you. Your arms were still wrapped around his chassis, hands splayed near the sensitive column of his spine, legs aligned with his body, one hooked around his thigh. His hand at your hip. In the peaking lines between your armor, everywhere your skin touched his metal he could feel your heat, your heartbeat.

For a moment, all you could do is stare at each other. For a moment, he couldn't seem to focus on his objective.

You slowly unwound your hold, but don't quite take your hands off him. They end up holding the broad ribs of his armor. He's... glad. He liked the contact. He squeezed your hip, relished in the soft give of your skin and fat and muscle.

"Sniper," You had finally breathed- and the spell was broken. Back to work.

The rest of the squad cheers and chats jovially, an easy mission. He would agree, more or less. As far as he can tell, the only casualty was his own shattered cosmetic cabling- an effortless fix for another time, for now he simply disconnects the damaged cable. But you aren't celebrating with them. The entire flight, you've kept your head back and eyes closed, swaying softly with turbulence. He can tell you're not asleep. Even if his HUD wasn't keeping him painfully aware of your vitals, he watches your hands rub at the corners of your armor plating the entire time, watches the twinges of your expression.

Pain? Ramattra wonders. Had he hurt you after all?

His GPS pings an alert for their probable arrival a few minutes before the engines shift again. When they do, it jostles you up, leaving you grabbing the supports around you as the ship comes in to land. His gyros keep him steady, never having to look away from his study of you. Without fanfare, the cargo door opens and most of the troops pile out. You stand, grab your gear-

and you look back at him. A little smile, a slight nod. He cannot smile back, would not if he could, but he nods in turn at you. You leave, following the line of soldiers ahead of you.

Only when everyone else has left does Ramattra stand.

Your quarters are blessedly quiet, at least compared to the open bustle of the barracks. The insulation between walls is thin, built for structural support, not individual solitude. At least in the lower officers quarters. The higher-ups are probably given more leeway on creature comforts. You heard once that Doomfist has a hot tub in every base.

You’d kill for a hot tub right now.

Still, it's quiet and secluded enough for you to drop your gear and close the door behind you. The ceramic of your armor clicks against the metal door frame as you lean back. Even the slight shift of your weight off your feet brings relief- as does the cold metal that presses to the nape of your neck, the backs of your arms.

He was warmer. Still much too cool to be mistaken as anything organic, but still... warmer than you had expected. The buzzing of his CPUs must radiate enough heat to bring him just above the freezing metal you had expected. He had moved more, too- the spinning of his fans had made him vibrate softly under your fingertips, but more shocking than that, it was as though he was breathing, a rhythmic movement of his chest. Some kind of ventilation, you’d guess.

You close your eyes. The fall onto your back had knocked the wind out of you- but the weight of him had never landed. No, he had perched over you, balanced on one sturdy arm, the cables of his mane dangling- the matte black making the stark white of his faceplate almost glow. You're sure it's just lights from his LEDs, but in the black shadows you'd swear you saw the red of his HUD in his optics. And he was touching you- cool fingers had somehow wound up between the hard lines of your armor, slipped right up under your shirt. Five mechanical fingers that squeezed so gently, so unnecessarily.

His presence around Talon was... sporadic at best- and you'd never actually worked with him before. His disdain for humans was common knowledge, but so when you'd been assigned to his team you had no way to anticipate that outcome. And yet it wasn’t… unwelcome.

With a groan you stand up again- no use pondering it fully geared-up at least. Your forearm guards come off easily, with satisfying clicks. You toss the plating onto your bunk; you’ll have to inspect it later- given the fall you’d had, you might already need to replace some of it. Next, your boots- which clatter together as you kick them away.

You reach up over your shoulder to undo the chestplate- and hiss with pain. Your upper back lights up with sore muscles, not yet ready to be used again. Fuck, okay. You’ll get back to that one, you guess. Instead, you twist your arm behind your low back and undo the armor over your belly.

Your door clangs- loud enough for you to jump. What the fuck? Who would be bothering you now? You hastily drop that piece onto the same pile and turn the handle-

Oh.

He's out of place this deep in Talon's barracks. He seems to know this, adjusting his posture to stand tall before you- a defensive stance against the curious eyes of your fellow soldiers that pass by. At full height he just about touches the upper edge of the door frame, making you have to tip your head back just to look at him this close. Even though there's no malice in his stance, your skin prickles.

As much as you were captivated by your little shared moment in the street, Ramattra is still your boss, more or less- his alliances with Talon are much further up the food chain than you- and there's no good formal reason for him to be here. So, you treat him as though he's one of the council. Someone way, way above your pay grade with enough power to end you and never even see paperwork for it. You stand up straight and square your shoulders, lower your gaze with a perfectly canned "Yes, Sir?"

His optics drop before he can override it; somehow he did not expect you to be undressing. Even with your undershirt still on under the white Talon armor, his thoughts race, circuitry threatening to overclock. At your voice, however, Ramattra makes a noise of disgust, shifts his head as if scowling. "Enough of that, save it for Akande." You blink, lift your sight back to his faceplate as though it made any difference in reading him. He must've already cleaned up; there once was post-battle grime, but it's already been wiped away. You look to his cabled mane- and there, too, his damaged ribbon cable is gone. "I came to speak with you." Suspicion rises again in your chest, even as he clarifies, "Informally."

Informally in Talon usually meant some kind of internal politicking that you avoided as best you could. Somehow, that doesn't feel right here- why the fuck would he have use for you?- but you don't let down your guard just yet. The instinct to tack on sir to the end of the question is so strong it nearly slips out. "What about?"

"I came to apologize." What? You bristle; if he means to apologize for touching you, well, he certainly did not wrong you by any means. "And to thank you. May I?" He motions past you and despite how much you absolutely should not be inviting Null Sector's leader into your quarters, you do so anyway.

Your room is hardly larger than a supply closet; it's positively cramped with both you and an R-7000 standing in the meager floor space. It makes his movements awkward, aware of his large, sharply pointed feet; even if your armored boots were still on, having him step on your toes would be unpleasant. Without, much worse. So, Ramattra gives you an easy solution: "Please, sit."

It doesn't help your pained neck at all, nor the growing sense of unease. Still, you perch yourself on the edge of your mattress and watch as he adjusts his cowl. "What did you need to apologize for?"

"First, I wanted to thank you for assisting me. I should have seen the sniper, or at least considered the probability, given the terrain." His voice box makes a spit of noise, not unlike clearing his throat. "I came to apologize for... scaring you, when you pulled me from the sniper's view. It was unintentional."

Scared? You can't resist a barking laugh, "That's all? I knew I was risking dropping a big heap of omnic on me. I mean, I'm really glad you were quick enough to catch yourself and all, but really, there's nothing to apologize for, you didn't hurt me."

He waits a beat, considering his words carefully. "You seemed particularly stunned afterwards."

Ah. He noticed. Your cheeks burn. "I guess. You did too, though."

"I had just been shot at and had to trust that a human had my best interest in mind." He tips his head, "If you did not fear being injured, then why?"

"Um," You rub at your neck, chase your thoughts for any acceptable response. "I was- just surprised. You were... very close."

His response is quick as he leans in towards you. “And you were not afraid?”

What is that inflection in his voice? Did he want you to be? You stare at him, try desperately to read his immovable faceplate. You bite your lip- and unbeknownst to you, Ramattra's optics tick downwards to watch. "No, I wasn't."

You must've picked right, because his voice box hums a little noise of acknowledgement, a light nod following. "I see." He murmurs, then abruptly straightens up again. "Regardless, I came to give my gratitude and offer repayment." You would tell him that it's literally your job, that you'd hope he would've done the same for you, but once more Ramattra's head tips, then nods just off to your right. "Is your armor ill-fitting?"

You blink, then look- and find yourself rubbing at your neck once more. "Oh! I mean, kind of; all Talon armor is pre-made. Mostly I'm just a bit sore."

"May I?"

He steps forward without waiting for your answer, but doesn't actually touch you. Once again, you're very close to him. This time, he's standing, towering over you with his full height from where you sit. He's offering, your mind stumbles over it, replays his touch to your hip. "Um, s-sure."

He already knows where the release to your armor is; his large fingers pressing into the divot before you can even begin to direct him. "Oh," you slip out, then awkwardly shake off each half, shoving them off the edge of the bed. His hands move towards your shoulders- and hesitate. He'd been quick to step closer, to dig into the protective paneling, but the actual prospect of touching you, even through the thin material of your undershirt, must make him pause. It's short lived- and his hands are cold enough you can feel it through the cloth.

You suppress a jolt at his temperature- but then he squeezes and all rational thought is expelled from your mind. The aching muscles of your shoulders have no choice but to surrender to his unflinching, metal kneads. It takes everything, everything that you have to not moan- and still he manages to pull a stifled inhale from you.

At once his fingers freeze, “Do you need me to stop?”

”No.” It’s all whine, a desperate plea to chase that same mind-melting touch. So, he continues on. Cool, smooth fingers pressing into taut muscle, loosening up knots with surgical precision. And when he adjusts his angle, steps a little closer and digs in again, you do let yourself moan.

He doesn’t stop- but you feel the tremble in his hands and his fans kick up their speed, humming louder in the relative quiet of your room. He adjusts again, moves to the outer parts of your upper arms- and when he squeezes there the sharp, near painful relief shoots all the way down to your fingertips. Your eyes are all but rolling in their sockets, it's all too easy to let your lids drop, your whole body swaying with each movement of his hands.

He presses into your upper back, in the tight space between shoulder blade and spine- and you don't resist the urge to lean forward. You aren't sure where exactly your forehead lands, but his metal is pleasantly cool. The vibration from his ventilation hums directly into your skull. It's soothing white noise- and you want more. Slowly, enough to make sure he can see you moving, you raise each hand and place them on the outer edge of his thighs. There, the refreshing touch of his metal is covered by dark-colored canvas, but the cloth does little to mute the hum of his inner machinery.

It makes your hands tingle- and it makes his vents crank open another notch. Beneath your forehead, his surface chills even more as coolant rushes through his systems.

The question of why rolls over your head, though the clarity of thought comes and goes with Ramattra's touch. It could be just some kind of curiosity or ultimately innocent fascination with the physicality of human flesh- something you doubt he's had much chance to experience outside of combat- but if he were not an omnic, the implication of his tentative exploration feels... obvious.

On one hand, Null Sector's leader was rarely around your base, the shame and embarrassment of being wrong about his intentions would only occasionally be relevant, but on the other...

You swallow and roll the dice. Your hands trace higher on his legs, over the straps there until you reach metal again. He all but trembles, deeply unused to soft human caresses- even more so to the seldom-touched ridges of his hips' plating. "Do you..." Your confidence slips- but Ramattra stares down at you so attentively, you can't help but continue, just to know "Would you prefer… more?"

His hands twitch against you. "If you are willing," He says it so slowly, so intentionally, he's talking to himself as much as to you. "I will take anything you would give."

Your shuddering inhale must please him, because he nearly purrs as he trails the tips of his fingers across your shoulder blades. Fuck. It’s hardly a question of what you would give, of if you are willing. You let go of him just long enough to grab the hem of your shirt and peel it off.

For a moment, your world is entirely black- and when you can see him again, half-bared to him, you're already shivering.

It's unfair to call it staring when omnics don't typically blink, but Ramattra's faceplate tips downward and doesn't lift- even as you scoot back on your flimsy mattress until you reach the headboard. Only then does he meet your gaze again. You can't see his optics, shadowed entirely by his stark white faceplate, but there's a heat about him, all his focus settled on you- and your heart races. He sees this, too, on his HUD- the spike in your pulse, in your breathing.

Ramattra waits only a moment, shamefully double-saving this moment to his memory files, then follows. Immediately one of his heavy, metal knees makes the hinges of the frame creak in protest. His attention snaps to one corner- almost furious for having interrupted his pursuit. It would be your luck to have your bed broken by an omnic war machine before you could even fuck him. But Ramattra slowly eases his full weight onto the frame- and despite the pitiful whining of your cheap frame, it holds up.

Which is good, because Ramattra wastes no time to lean over you- the staggering height difference between you barely mitigated by his new position with his knees on either side of your legs. Your heart is racing, pulse thrumming all the way down to your fingertips- and he hasn't even really touched you- but he's eager to correct that.

He reaches for you- and there's a breath of hang time. An infinite little moment between his rubber-padded palm touching your neck, a perfect little bookend to all that was before. Because cool metal circles the base of your throat- thumb and forefinger rubbing over the ridges of your collarbones and sliding on- until his palm presses to the center of your chest- and it's unlike anything you expected.

His touch is exploratory, cautious, gentle as his hand slides up your neck, away from where you had really wanted him to touch. Instead, the rounded tips of his fingers trace parallel lines up each side of your throat. He stops just below your jaw, where your pulse beats hard against the skin. Somehow, there's no threat to it- a Ravager is holding your carotid, your jugular- and you don't even want to run. No, he's turned the tables on you- you want more.

It's difficult to be patient with his exploration, but his fascination here must be sated, because Ramattra's head tips- and his other hand presses to your chest. It's still painfully chaste; he's much too high, fingertips caressing your collarbone. He shifts, presses the heel of his palm into your pec- and, oh, you're melting into him again, because you didn't even realize that, too, was sore. As much as you wish he'd do what you're thinking about, his massaging touch is far from unacceptable.

Instead, you let your eyelids drift close, rest your chin upon the hand still at your throat.

Ramattra hums at this, one thumb stroking over your jaw in a motion so affectionate it makes your heart hurt. His fingers linger there, at the edges of your face- while his other hand finally begins to move. The rubber grip of his palm slides over the top of your breast, but his wrist turns, skirts along the side. He presses there a little, feels the weight of your chest in his palm. Already your skin is lighting up, goosebumps racing along your arms- and Ramattra shifts his hand again.

One breast entirely in his hand, his metal still shockingly cold to the underside- and yet somehow, your nipple stands free between his thumb and forefinger. He's avoided it entirely so far- but between the chill of him and the tension rushing in your veins, it's hardened into a little point. He squeezes your chest and you don't stifle your sigh.

He watches his own hand as he slowly sweeps his thumb across the stiff peak of your nipple- how it bends under his touch- and with a gasp, it pops back up. At your whimper he looks back up to your face and does the same motion again, just to soak in your reaction. The weight of his gaze is not lost on you- every sensor in his array is focused on your body, your face, the little hitches in your breath as he drags his thumb in a circle instead.

Your response must be fascinating enough, because the hand at your throat finally travels downwards, mirroring the other. Just having both hands on you makes your heart race, but now you're all but trembling when he hasn't even used the other yet. You expect more slow sweeps. You do not expect him to pinch- your sensitive flesh caught between cold metal plates- and then to tug on them.

You squeal, arch into his hands- half to alleviate the ache he's produced, and half because it felt good. He only half lets up. "Is that too much?" His voice box is so quiet you nearly don't hear him.

"No," You can only gasp- and with his confidence assured, you break off into a whimper as he tweaks your nipples. It's strange- his hands have no give, no softness to them, each motion is only relentless pressure and the hard edges of each joint. It makes every touch more acute, harsher even with his slow, cautious approach.

"They're softer than I expected," He says- and he sounds so cool, almost unaffected by how he's already making you unravel. "And more sensitive."

Oh. Something falls into place. It's not just you. "Have you ever... done this before?"

"Not with a human." Another sweep of his thumb has you shuddering. His grasp loosens, your skin tingling as blood returns to where he'd held it.

His curiosity here must've been satisfied, as his hands slide off to your sides. With only the tips of his fingers skating over your skin so lightly, you squirm under him- and grab his forearms. He stills, glances up to you- "Ticklish," You explain, then press on his hands until his whole palm meets your skin. "Firmer."

Ramattra hums, nods once in acknowledgement. He doesn't have to be corrected twice; his study of your body continues with more pressure. "And you?" Methodical presses over each notch of your ribs, tracing along the lines of each- pressing into the unprotected flesh below them, feeling over the soft pouch of your stomach. No longer feather-light, now it's almost clinical, and you wonder if he's comparing your body to schematics in his head. It isn't until he pauses, squeezes at your hip- a mimic of the same touch from earlier- for you to realize he'd spoken to you.

Have you done this before? The answer is, truthfully, not in a while, never with someone who made your skin feel so electric. You lick your lips and guardedly answer, "Not with an omnic."

He seems to accept this- and to keep him from questioning further, you move to unlatch your right greave. Your bed frame complains once more as he scoots back- and then begins working on your left leg. When you're once more down to your under armor, he stops, half sits back onto his heels. The glow of his optics is hidden, but you have no doubt he's watching you intently, waiting for something. If he expects you to wilt and change your mind, you hope instead he's pleasantly surprised that you hook your thumbs into the soft elastic around your waist and roll off both your pants and underwear.

You're suddenly aware you don't know where to put your legs- sliding them back under him would be counterproductive. So, you be just a little bold, and let them lay half-open across his canvas-covered thighs. Ramattra shudders. A visible quake up his spine, ends in little twitches of his fingers. Fingers that immediately press to your skin, two at first, just above your knees, then the whole width of his palm is smoothing up your thighs.

Higher and higher up your leg, his thumbs skating along the ridge of the muscle at the top of your thigh, never dipping in too close. Even as he approaches your waist, so tantalizingly close to your apex, his hands slide out, over the curve of your hips. You whimper, voicing your displeasure at his continued teasing. Ramattra answers only with a soft humming and those same thumbs pressing in to find the divots of your hip bones.

As attentive as his touch is, it's not helping the ache in your belly. Under him you squirm, press your thighs together to sate your growing need.

This, too, does not go unnoticed. "Patience," He chides and slides his palms from your hips back up to your sides. "We could not linger earlier; I intend to take my time now."

Oh. It doesn't stop you from squeezing your thighs again, but you do resign yourself to his pace. Again he passes over your navel before traveling down; this time there's no more cloth to impede his exploration. His thumbs follow the curve of your pubic bone, coming so very close- before returning to the safety following the long muscles of your quadriceps. With a cant of his head, he's particularly fascinated by this part of you, following the imprints of his fingers as he strokes down your legs.

Once he reaches your knees, Ramattra slyly slides his thumbs inwards, between your tightly pressed thighs. This alone has you shivering, aching to think of another round of his slow mapping of your body- but the soft press of his hands against your legs, urging them outward has every thought fleeing your mind. Shame drives you to press one hand over your face, but offers no resistance to him opening your legs once more. This time, his route from your knees to your hips is no longer exploratory- it's measured. His pace is slow, agonizing- barely inching along your skin, sweeping his thumbs, pressing in when you get too excited; it's an intentional lesson in patience that borders on torture.

And finally- finally- he doesn't turn his touch away. Ramattra's gaze is fixed between your legs, watched as he finally touches you. He traces the sensitive, thin crease of your thigh first- the last line between pretendably-chaste exploration and something else.

And he charges right past that line.

Without any warning, he drags one fingertip right down the center of your pussy. You gasp- and he's skating over your clit, parting your lips, almost dipping into you- before pulling back. With so much teasing, one stroke alone has your body thrumming, heat spreading from your belly. Above you, Ramattra hums- and spreads your lips with his free hand.

The embarrassment of his hawkish observation of your sex doesn't have long to set in, because once more his fingers return to you. Two this time, swirling at your entrance to coat his cool metal in your wetness, before sliding upwards. When he circles your aching clit, you don't even try to stop the moan that escapes from deep within.

Behind his white faceplate, his optics snap upwards and watch your reaction. He's used to seeing humans' heart rates spike when he touched them, but never with such a sound accompanying it. It's... different. Another stroke over the nub, another noise from your lips confirms what he'd already suspected: he likes it. He wants to hear more.

It's just like with your chest. He's all hard metal, no squishing softness of skin and muscle and fat- wherever his fingers move, your body has no choice but to follow, to fold under the hardness of his form. Each leisurely swirl pushes at you more than rubs, compresses and bends your most sensitive skin in incessant, cruel rounds and it's like nothing else you've ever felt. And it's too much, all too quickly you're squirming away from his hand, desperate for a break from the onslaught.

He notices. Ramattra can't not notice when your languid moans warp into sharp whines, when your hips that were grinding impatiently against his fingers, instead begin arching away from his touch. He pulls away, ceases the minuscule contact- and immediately your body relaxes, hips raising up towards him again. Was he being too rough? He recalibrates, actuators hardly moving at all when he meets the pulsing nub at the apex of your sex- and once more you're dancing backwards, face pinching. Yet as soon as he withdraws, another neglected, aching noise from your lips makes his frame shudder.

He almost scoffs; what a terribly human reaction- to flinch from his touch, then crave it as soon as he stops. He doesn’t understand why you’re doing this, but he can at least guess you’re not in any position to explain it to him.

Instead his touch wanders away, down along the creases of your body. A curiosity leads his fingers towards your opening and the wetness that has accumulated there. He traces the taut skin before him- and your heart hammers in your chest. He's so close, so close to being inside you. Your body burns under him, begs silently with every breath. With hardly any effort, his fingertips are coated in clear slickness once more- two shining strings between his digits as he examines them.

"Are most humans this... well-lubricated?"

"No," It comes out broken, your psyche unable to take any more of this- and your tone makes his faceplate lift. The slits of his optics are black, but you stare into them anyway and sob, "Please."

All five of his fingers dig into your thigh, a full-body shudder following your plea. Ah, now he understands. He leans forward, repositions himself over you, his massive frame entirely covering yours, but not quite touching. The heavy weight of his forearm lands next to your head as he murmurs- softer than you've ever heard his vocoder go- "Of course."

And he slides one finger into you.

You don't make a sound- your mouth falls open in mute relief- not even pleasure yet, just succor to your unrelenting need. Ramattra, however, stutters through a moan- the hand at your head curls into a fist, shaking with focus. Your body instinctively clenches around him, pulsing against the hard metal of his digit. As distracted as he is with your wet heat, he wastes no time in circulating the finger inside you- pressing against each wall, feeling the softness that surrounds every sensor, that ripples with each movement.

The first withdrawal is agonizing, the slow pull away, the half-second that you're nearly empty is unspeakable, an awful torment after finally knowing the shape of him. "I have you." He hushes before you can even whine. And he fulfills the promise, easing his finger back in. This time, you sigh- light and airy, lost under the sound of Ramattra's own ventilation.

Your body slowly releases its harsh grasp, relaxing into his slow, careful pace- sliding easily with every stroke, the soft noise of your slickness making your face burn. As the harsh peak of your need mellows into Ramattra's pleasurable touch, you're once more met with the impassive mask of his stark white faceplate. He's so close, you think you should be able to see his optics behind the faceplate- you want to see them- but he's blocking the only light in the room, casting his entire face in shadow, save for the mild, red lighting from the LEDs around his head.

He's gorgeous up close; all sleek lines and crisp enamel. Here and there are tiny nicks on his plating, like scars marking his body. Where you pant against him, his metal fogs- can he feel that? He's too far- and you wrap your arms around him to pull him closer.

You didn't realize how worked up he already was. Even to your fevered skin, Ramattra is warm, streams of hot air escaping past your forearms. He is actually enjoying this. The realization makes your pussy tighten around him once more- and in turn he curls the finger inside you.

You buck against him, the rush of pleasure driving any reservations from your mind as you thread one hand into the thick, black cables of his mane and lick at the pistons of his neck. The effect is immediate- his head drops down beside you entirely, bringing his shoulder even close to your mouth. Near your ear, Ramattra's voicebox rumbles, somewhere between a purr and a growl- the intent lost beneath a wave of static. And not to be outdone, he slips a second wide finger inside you.

The stretch pulls a moan from your lips, made louder by reverberating off Ramattra's shoulder plates. Two of his fingers already makes you feel pleasantly full, a respectable length and girth to them made even better with his attentive exploration of the hidden parts of your cunt- very aware of how every curl of his fingers makes your body sing for him.

And it does sing. Inside you, Ramattra gently spreads his fingers, urging your body to stretch even more, pressing ever harder into the soft flesh of your pussy- and you're helpless as you writhe beneath him. You don't even do it intentionally- raising one leg to press harder against his chassis. Perhaps, if his voice box was not right next to your ear, you'd have missed the spit of static that follows.

But you don't miss it. As lust-hazed as your mind is, all you can truly think about is how unfair it is that he's shown you so little. The hand not tangled into his wire-hair slides down his back, skirts around hot air vents, and dips between each silvery rib. The touch makes him shudder- a minute shaking of his rig that you wouldn't have even felt if he weren't fully pressed to your sternum. You linger at the thin hourglass of his waist, squeezing the thick, black cabling there appreciatively-- and first, Ramattra's hips faulter, a burst of erroneous data coming from the wiring you'd handled, then Ramattra groans, loud and almost droning as his stuttering hips meet the soft skin of your thigh. The shape of his lower plating means really only the top ridge is digging into you, but any discomfort is more than outweighed by his fans kicking up again.

You're ready for him- grabbing the last silver bar over his hip and guiding him closer. He doesn't resist at all. Without a single word, he follows, allows you to match the pace of his own fingers to have him rut against you in perfect time. He's almost fucking you; the proximity of him, the shape of his fingers- and suddenly you need it. To know what he looks like, feels like-- if he has one at all (though you hope he does, please, please-)

Ramattra pauses his thus far near perfect fingering- and you almost sigh with relief- he must have the same idea. Instead, he shifts his wrist- and the pad at the base of his thumb meets your clit. It's a pleasant shock- and when his fingers resume their thrusting, rhythmic pulling against you, you understand what he's done. Every tiny twitch of your hips makes your clit rub against his palm, and with his merciless knowledge of how to make you squirm, it's all he needs to make you gasp and clutch at him tighter.

All at once you're close, hardly more than a passenger to your own undoing. Each curl of his fingers is targeted, a planned attack on the sensitive innermost parts of your body- and with the uncommanded ruts of your hips, he's making you just as complicit in the rising fever of your need, using your own reactions against you- His plating meets your thigh again- and something like a moan spits from his voice box, a choked, half-buzzing noise that has you gasping, aching-

The noise you make is hardly human, barely recognizable as speech. "Wait," And yet the effect is immediate, before you can even croak out a clearer "Wait," he's already stopped, every joint locking up save for the turn of his head- and the lights on his faceplate burn bright, an unspoken question waiting there. He waits, silent, as you shiver and breathe, letting the hard edge of your desire die down before you can find any intelligible words, separated by harsh pants. "Can you?” Less intelligible than you had hoped. “Can you… fuck me?”

The lights on his forehead actually flicker, blinking asymmetrically as soon as the words leave your lips. His systems are in disarray, faulting, replaying your request until Ramattra has to halt the processes manually. It takes him much too long to croak out a barely understandable, static-fuzzed "Yes."

The withdrawal of his fingers from your pussy is agonizing, the last ring of muscle inside you desperately clenching against their retreat. The iron will it takes to keep your noises inside is physically painful, but somehow you think if you were to moan and plead that he let you cum now, he might actually short out. As it is, Ramattra is barely keeping it together. His hand is actually shaking as he releases the shiny plate over his groin, the soft hiss of pneumatics accompanying the distorted sigh from his vocoder. His dark paneling joins your armor on the floor and-

oh.

The first thing you notice is the lights. It's mostly thick, translucent purple silicone wrapped around a suspended mesh sensor array with red inlaid LEDs dotted under the surface that are nearly maroon through the pigment. The second thing is that it's massive. As big as his frame is, his cock is somehow bigger than you expect. It’s not quite the same shape as a human cock; the first rounded ridge is almost right, if only for the fact that it entirely circles the length. Behind it, two more ridges sit further down the shaft.

You can't help but reach for it. The groan that rumbles from his synth is just icing on the cake. "How...?" Fuck, you can't even close your hand around it, thumb and middle finger easily a full inch apart.

"I made it." He admits with a sigh. The tug of your skin on the dry silicone is awkward, but Ramattra shudders and rocks into your touch all the same. Until he seemingly remembers he was knuckle deep in you for several minutes- and shoos your hand aside just long enough to wipe your own fluids on himself. Purple with little red lights and glistening with your arousal- it's nearly enough to make you moan at the sight alone. It is enough when you stroke him again- and this time your hand glides over his smooth surface with ease. Ramattra feels the difference too, his head dropping forward as a plume of steam escapes from a hidden vent.

"Please," You can barely make yourself let go of him. He follows your hand as it falls between your legs, slips through your wetness in desperation to ease your need. "Ramattra..."

"It was," His voice box pops. A harsh little noise, then silence as it frantically reboots. When he speaks again, it's clearer- and there's something in his tone you don't recognize. "... not made for human dimensions."

"I don't care." You whine, grasping at his side once again. But he remains unmoved, his hands planted firmly on his knees, faceplate trained on you. His hesitance draws you out of your haze of lust, higher thinking forcing its way through your mind. Concern- it was concern in his voice. Ah. "If it's too much, I'll tell you. We can-" You swallow, and consider the possibilities that follow, "we can try something else."

And when this doesn't quite sway him, frustration takes control again. With a pitiful whine you present yourself to him again, a meager "Please, I need you." your final offering.

The actuators in his hands whine. A pressure warning pops into his HUD and is dismissed before he can even process it. "Yes." He rasps- it's agonizing how slowly he crawls over you, but the joy that he's moving at all is all you can really think about. "If you require me to stop, inform me immediately." You nod vigorously, almost missing how his voice drops, "I did not come here to harm you."

There's no time to consider the tenderness that laces his vocals, because he slides the head of his cock between your lips once, twice. The motion alone has your hands grabbing at him- and your breath all together stops as he begins to push.

He's big. Even with his mind-melting fingering, it stings as he slowly breeches you. His force is slow and even, but merciless. He does not pause at all as the widest part of his cock stretches you open, makes your face pinch together, thighs locking around Ramattra's thin waist. There's a high pitched little noise somewhere- and you can’t tell if it’s coming from you or Ramattra. As uncomfortable as it is for you, it must be heavenly for him. And yet he continues on- not a single stutter to his patient approach.

Relief washes over you when his hard hips meet yours- and above you Ramattra sighs. You're so full. All the way behind your navel- if pressed below your belly, you'd be able to feel him inside you-- if you could let go of him long enough to try. And it's tight- and truly you could redefine the word, with how harshly your walls cling to him, how you can feel every ridge, where every light is, just because it has slightly less give.

"You are..." He begins, vocalizer rumbling close to your ear. Simultaneously, you shift your hips, trying to ease the pressure that fills you up. Even such little motion cuts him off, makes him press his cool faceplate against your shoulder. His voice cuts through with another tone, like a radio station going out. "Sublime." One large hand lands at your hip, holds you close as he rocks against you. Fully buried as he is, all you can do is gasp and cling to him, digging your fingers into the gaps between his ribs. "It's like a current." He murmurs, almost in disbelief.

His comment is so strange, so stunned at your pussy, it pulls a delighted laugh from you despite how it makes you ache again. You move one hand from his back- and your knuckles hurt for how hard you'd been gripping him- to slide into the cables of his mane again. Ramattra purrs approvingly, a rumble that fills his entire body, permeates into you at every point of contact. He rocks with you again, and as much as you need him to stop moving, if he actually stilled you might just combust.

It hardly takes more than your hand moving to his hip and guiding him into a real stroke- even if you have to grit your teeth and hiss at his half withdrawal. The sound makes him lift his head, turn the dark slits of his optics towards you. He watches as you nod and urge him on with your calves on his thighs. He's slow, keeps that same agonizing pace- easing back into you with as much caution as the first time.

With the stretch already easing, the balance of discomfort to pleasure shifts- and you're closing your eyes, letting the ripple of electricity coast through you with each little motion he makes. Now, it's your turn to sigh, that fullness returning to you- pressed up against the deepest parts of you. When he lowers his head again, his faceplate is not buried into your shoulder this time. No, his LEDs are warm against your forehead, strange with the cool metal between each light. This close, you can hear the soft whirrs of his optics moving and re-focusing. Your breath fogs the white ceramic of his faceplate. If he minds, he doesn't say anything.

He keeps the rhythm on his own now, slow and even until he's sliding freely inside you without any hint of resistance, until you're needing. Words escape you as you clutch at him, press your forehead harder to his, whine with each glacial motion. He hums again, shifts his weight onto one arm- so careful to not break the intimate little connection he'd forged- to hold your hip with one hand. You can't see his optics through the narrow slits, but every sensor is centered on you as he so carefully moves quicker.

"Is this alright?" His voice hardly makes it out of his synth, so low and quiet- and so easily drowned out with your moaning. He’s still so gentle, even with his endeavor to please you in faster strokes, they’re each guarded, measured with careful calculations. There’s no force to them at all.

You can't seem to figure out where you want to hold him; both your hands bury into his cabled hair and stroke there, twist until a stunned little noise breaks free of his vocoder, then releases, fan down until you can hold at his shoulders, at the long pistons that would be collarbones. It isn't enough. Your hands skitter onward, over his arms, his sides, over and between the broad silver struts, in the black recesses between and back up. It takes everything to twist your hands into his cowl and beg. "More, please," Your lips brush his face, "Harder."

Ramattra's entire frame shudders, the hand at your hip pulling you ever closer, once more burying himself to the hilt. "Your…" He rasps, still shaking. "Penchant towards self-destruction is… astounding."

Where he had previously chided you with patience, it seems he has all but run out. The need is taking over him as well, because he doesn't even try to dissuade you at all as he completely moves himself. No longer laid nearly on top of you, his large form stretches over you like a breathing metal canopy, bracing himself with one hand on the wall. He keeps the other hand on your hips- and his next thrust brings stars to the backs of your eyelids. All metal, no give; his hips meet yours with a new vigor. But even more, his altered angle forces one light node up against your front wall. He doesn't even have time to ask if it's good before you're gabbing at his smooth forearm, twisting one hand into your sheets. His name slips from your mouth in a plea, but you can't even understand what you're asking for. "Ramattra,"

Above you Ramattra purrs, the pleased little hum from his vocalizer vibrating out into your room. Beneath you, your bed creaks pathetically- above you, the clasps at the end of his hair-cables clack together, announcing his pace to your neighbors- and you don't care. All you can focus on is the rhythm of his body against yours, the staticy noises that slip from his vocalizer unbidden, where the pad of his palm has caught your skin, holding you exactly where he wants you. And where he wants you has your toes curling, your eyes fighting to stay open. Heat coils in your belly, and it's still not enough.

"More, more," You pant- pulling at his hips with your calves. The sore reality of getting fucked hard by a Ravager is completely gone from your mind- tomorrow's pain has nothing on the haze of desire that leaves you with only harder, deeper, more.

Whatever reply Ramattra has is lost, the noise from his synth a harsh tone that sounds more like a modem than speech. He complies immediately, his next thrust pushing you further up the bed, pressing hard enough against your cervix to make you gasp. The sheets aren't enough, you need to feel more of him- so you grab at his hand again, at his chest, where he's become positively warm. "Fuck, fuck, Rama-ah- I-" Every word broken by a snap of his hips, by the little eek, eek, eek of your mattress frame. Each thrust has your eyes rolling, panting, keening little noises because you can't stop them- and the coil is so close, so tightly wound-

and somewhere, you hear a coin dink onto the floor, hear it spin on the floor. It's so odd you can't make sense of it- can’t give it more than half a thought because you’re so close all you can focus on is the boiling desire that’s taken over your blood- until Ramattra's hips meet yours again.

And for a half-moment you're in free fall, weightless. For one heartbeat, Ramattra is moving away from you- or, no, you’re somehow moving away from him.

You stare, wide-eyed at the dark slits of Ramattra's optics- until one metal hand slips under your shoulders, faster than you can think. He catches you, but not before you’re almost inverted.

A glance up tells you exactly what you expect: the front half of your frame has collapsed, the legs have fallen flat against the floor. Fuck. It doesn't matter; that need has not been sated in the least. You shift your hips against his, shake his hand off you, and brace one arm between your head and the wall. "Don't care."

If he's planning on hesitating, you don't give him a chance. With a grab at the hand still at your waist, you clench around his cock. A real, true moan rips from his vocalizer and all caution is thrown to the wind. He holds your ass up off the slanted mattress with one hand, keeps you so perfectly stabilized as he ruts into you. Any semblance of order or careful intent is lost; the instinctual chase of pleasure has taken both of you. All you can do is lock your legs behind his thin waist and ride out each thrust, rising to meet him where you can. So hard and quick you can barely keep up with his pace, leaving you squirming beneath him, twisting your fingers into your hair as the heat rises again.

Your mind narrows down to a point, "Please, please- don't stop, fuck- Ramattra-"

Another groan from his throat and he grabs your waist with both hands. No longer just thrusting- he's all but pulling you up off the floor, spearing you onto himself over and over. He uses you like an oversized toy, fucking into you with abandon. And you hadn't even realized just how large his hands were. His thumb reaches right across your thigh, parts your lips to press against your clit. He strokes in time with his hips- and you're gone.

With him supporting most of your weight, you arch into the air- and clench down on him hard. Something in his throat pops before a groan cuts in. He doesn't stop moving, even as your walls flutter around him, as your voice goes hoarse. One hand leaves your hips- and something flutters down across one shoulder. You fight against the waves of ecstasy- each crashing over you, drowning out your senses in liquid pleasure- just enough to crack your eyes open as he peaks.

His body freezes, joints twitching out of sync, fragments of uncommanded movements while his voice breaks, a harsh tone pouring out before it clicks off entirely. You squeeze around him again- launching another wave for yourself- and above you, Ramattra's lights flicker, twinkle like stars- and then turn off. Offlined. Good. You join him shortly, closing your eyes and surrendering to the pleasant warmth that surrounds you.

When you wake again, you're right-side up. It takes a series of barely-coordinated blinks to clear your vision. It's somehow more disorienting than having been nearly upside-down to begin with. More so, you're not in your bed. No, you're wrapped up in your sheets, but you're firmly in Ramattra's lap- who has ended up sitting cross-legged next to the remains of your bed frame. It's... surprisingly cozy. The sheets soften up the hardest angles of his body and keep you warm while his frame regulates itself back to its usual cool temperatures.

"My apologies," He says in lieu of greeting. "It seemed impertinent to leave you... there."

From the forty-five degree angle of your mattress and how it's squished up against the wall. A white dust has spilled over your pillows- and it takes you much too long to piece together the Ramattra-fist-sized hole in your drywall. A tentative touch to your hair confirms flecks of paint and plaster. Yeah. You could imagine you probably didn't look very comfortable.

"Thanks," is what you try to say, but it comes out a rough rasp. You swallow several times to ease the dryness in your throat, but Ramattra seems to hum in appreciation. In all fairness, you had been all but screaming his name. A noble way to lose your voice. "Thanks," and this time, it sounds human enough.

"And I am sorry for damaging your quarters." He modulated a noise not unlike clearing his throat. "I may have gotten carried away."

You can only grin and slur your words. "S'okay, it's all cheap 'n Talon maintenance is fast." Honestly, it’s a compliment. Maybe a little inconvenient, but hey. Who else can say they made the leader of Null Sector cum so hard he dug his fingers into your literal wall and shut down? You shift in his lap, lay your head more comfortably against his shoulder. When you settle, he holds you closer. "Benefits of no questions asked type of work." Once more his only reply is a quiet hum of acknowledgement. It's an easy silence- save for the quiet whirr of Ramattra's fans, which have returned to their normal pace. Only when you absolutely need to know do you risk asking, "Can you stay? For a bit longer?"

He pauses, considers the question. He shouldn’t, truthfully. This excursion has already gone well past what he had planned for. But there’s something nagging at his logic circuits, the same little impulse that had made him fall at your command. It had saved his life before- and gotten him here. When has he ever been able to deny himself his curiosities?

"Yes. I have time." He says and pulls you closer to him still, until he can feel every rise and fall of your chest, despite the blanket between your bodies. Internally, he sends a message that he'll be unavailable for a debrief with Akande.

This time, it's you that hums as you bury your face into the pistons of his neck and close your eyes.

-----

Sequel

#ramattra x reader #ramattra x you #ramattra #overwatch #overwatch x you #overwatch x reader

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bardsandchangelings · 2 months

Text

Tag dump (Emilia)

With darkness my tears collide // Sinking into the shrine of me // I’m ready to be set free! (Emilia)

v; Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters // Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger. - Clan

v; Rage // Seems to fill her heart with fire as she sings a flame // That burns her prison gates! - grief

v; mistakes that you’ve made will stay in the past // redemption is yours if you follow that path! - redemption

#v; mistakes that you’ve made will stay in the past // redemption is yours if you follow that path!#v; Rage // Seems to fill her heart with fire as she sings a flame // That burns her prison gates!#v; Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters // Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger.#With darkness my tears collide // Sinking into the shrine of me // I’m ready to be set free! (Emilia)

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adoregojo · 4 months

Text

✘ unrequited love

summary: loves echoes through the darkness, yet there's no light to erase it.

↝ they like you, you don't seem to share the bits of it.

context: unrequited love, angst no comfort, !!gn reader!!, angst and also angst, mention of blood, character: isagi, bachira, nagi, rin.

Isagi.y

he felt his heart break a bit, didn't shatter. just a little crack that made him lose his breathing track for a second.

he has to take a step back from you, to 'comprehend’ it, and by that he means living his ordinary road, just with a new layer of wretchedness. He really tried going on his old ways, yet his attempts were futile. He wouldn't utter a tune on breakfast with his family, his friends would ask him why he stuck to the mud all of a sudden, he would woolgather like there was a castle in the sky, in class, in practice to the locker room.

he would walk back home, stare at the mirror, and surveyed his features. fingers crossed his face, did he perhaps not fit the standards? more importantly, your standards? he does realize that he wasn't that much of an eye candy, but he definitely wasn't an eyesore either. did he look too basic? he’ve always been told that by his teammates一yet you always told him that they're just jealous that they don't carry the most splendid, navy blue pairs of eyes around really一god, he really missed you.

he tried, he really did try to connect the puzzle, solve it to get the idea out of your mind. laying in bed with his hands behind his head, his ceiling seems to be the most interesting thing to ever exist. Was he not your ideal type? you always told him that as long as heart remains genial, it’d be good enough. did his heart come out as ruthless? well, it's not like his behavior on the field is helping.

it took him a good long days to get it, this was not a game he could fathom in a blink, this was you. he can't change what you think of him, he can't force you to see him as the almighty devotion defines that he sees you as, he can't make you love him, as much as he wishes and prays to. for once, this isn't something that his ego could grasp on, even for his sake.

he asks you to be friends again, if you were kind enough to agree, he'd be willing to get on his knees, thanking what you had left of sympathy for him. even if life never came back like it used to, as long as you're by his side, it's not the end of the world just yet.

isagi could just wish, you’d somehow discern a new corner in your heart that’ll behold as a sense of love for him, for what he had of selfishness clinging onto him, for what he had of undying love for you.

Bachira.m

he really, lived and witnessed the world ending through his eyes and mostly his heart.

to put it mildly, bachira have always been out of place. to other people, he didn't seem to reach out of his weird spot he somehow earned. you were nice though, the nicest person he had ever met, you were his special place, and the safest of all. his favorite flower and the references to cross his brush over the pearly white papers. and with all the cheesiest in the world一his universe.

it was an unyielding thing to not catch feelings for you, his ever first friend that didn't feel ashamed when hearing his name beside yours, till he found himself wanting more than just that title, for you to be his better half sounded like a paradise blessing pouring on him.

there would be dreams where he'd finally get to press his lips against yours, it's too good to be true, the warmth and the dizziness, the sweet flavor against his lips was making his mind melt to a pool, made him heat up like he was standing above a low steam stone, he wanted more, till he'd fell unconscious in your arms from the lack of air, never ever wanting it to come to an end, yet I'll eventually burn to ashes.

he never hated you, he could never. even when you uttered the words of rejection that came like a keen pain right up his chest. it hurts, more than any punch, kick or insult he'd receive. his wheel of life seemed to diminish, and his eyes began to water.

a part of him knew this was coming, even when you became something of him, there will always be a sound whispering how inadequate he'll remain, no matter how he tries.

but hey, it's bachira. the same guy that’ll always look at the brightest side. above all, it's still love, yeah? even if you didn't return it, he was grateful that he somehow got to experience it, to pick raw flowers from the backyard with the biggest, lovesick smile glued to his face. to wake up everyday just to see you again was enough reason to leap off the bed. he was glad to say he for once, had a crush, coating the fact that his feelings got smashed to a wall. he was glad to feel any sense of true love.

your existence alone in his world was the definition of bliss, maybe he was sad because he wasn't in yours.

after all, you loving him back was too good to be true. being your friend should be an honor itself, he’ll keep on telling that to himself, till he finds the right extinguisher for the fire you lit up his heart.

Nagi. S

“sei.. I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way.”

“oh.” it was light, a tune of realization. In an instant, his eyes are empty again, the world blends to a hue of gray he knows the most, and suddenly sinking into a dreamless slumber for a whole day sounded like a brilliant idea.

“okay.” that's it, that's all he had to say before he's.. him again. he was nagi again, not the seishirou that fell smitten and starstruck, the one you made with your bare hands, the better version一the happiest version of himself.

he doesn't get a grasp on why he felt nothing at that moment, but at the same time he felt everything一it almost felt like he had an organ failure, but also his heart rate draw at halt. it was hard to put it on words一but what he knew, he definitely never, ever wants to experience anything like that again.

for the longest time, nagi always lends to your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, it's been like this for the longest time. you and him, perhaps against the world一but really, it was more like you against the world while he immerse in your shadow.

he didn't mind. your light has always been overcasting. your smile was radiant, with your eyes aglow, he couldn't help but feel small. he was nothing against the brightest star to ablaze at him, and for the countless nights, he'd wondered一why him? nagi didn't exactly embrace the fact he was a slacker, he just tended to let it be this way, it was too much of a hassle to correct it一or maybe it was a truth that cannot be denied, who knows.

it was mostly his fault, for getting too used to you, for leaning on you like his own wheel of life. but he didn't want to let you go, it would be a pain一he was selfish after all.

nagi would slim down on your shoulder, he can feel your slightest tenseness. you were always comfortable, so comfortable that he could just be one with you.

“do you like me back yet?” he would ask, you say nothing. he’d inhale a soft sigh, snuggling onto you even more till his snowy locks kept on tickling the skin of your neck.

“that's okay, I'll stay here until you like me back.”

you again say nothing, but you’ll let him hold your hand, meshing your palms together. maybe he'll let go when his heart stops skipping a beat for you, or when the world comes to crumble, but they both end up with the same fate anyway, so it didn't really matter.

Rin.i

he knew he'll at some point regret this. wanting you of all people was a sin, a forbidden love.

despite his ears ringing, and his heart dropping to his core. he saw it coming, he would mutter that he'd be ready for it, just for it to sting like a sore thumb. it felt like he was collapsing on the ground with a pool of blood and tears, and all you’d do is watch with pity.

he felt bare, naked and exposed, he wanted to hide. he felt rejected and small. Suddenly he was fifteen again, pleading for his big brother to not leave him to rot in the cold, to not let the snow be the only source of comfort he had instead of a warm embrace.

for once, he had felt his heart swell with adoration一for a second, he didn't even have a name for that feeling, was was genuinely confident that you were making him somehow ill, there had to be a medical explanation for the mini heart attack he suffered from whenever he witnessed you at elation.

he allowed it to happen, he should've pushed you away more, he should've stood up his ground, he should've made more effort to strengthen his walls that you decayed with ease.

but what was there to wonder about the ‘what if's’ and the ‘maybe's’ yet again here he was, playing a secondary role in the ones he loved the most once again. digging his own grave stupidly.

for the first time in forever, he didn't feel like it was a challenge to love him, he didn't have to look at his reflection and grimace, he didn't have to be muddled by the name ‘itoshi sae’ this time, he was rin一your rin, was it bad that he wanted to live by that? it felt right to.

he knew he wasn't perfect, maybe even his flaws swamped over what he had of strengths. yet you seemed to admire him through it all, you looked at him like he was something一someone, he wanted to be that someone to you.

you managed to make everything look soft, feel warm. you stained his world with colors he thought he forgot the hues of it, he thinks he likes you a little too much.

for the longest time, rin was afraid he'll eat the life out of you, just like the maggots adore the flesh. seems like he was worried about nothing, because he’ll never be what he ought to be一yours.

you probably hate him, he did exclaimed hurtful things, he saw your eyes narrowing into a pained expression, it ached more than any rejection. he didn't know why, he was overwhelmed, angry and blinded by rage一and like the predictable itoshi he was. he revealed his cuspids and went for the throat.

he just wanted to hurt you back, that's what felt right at that moment. and yet as soon as he saw shedding tears running down your cheeks, satisfaction never came across, all he felt was a deep-seated regret. he felt ugly, sour and mean. and most of all, cruel.

and when rin sinks to his bed, he curls himself to a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. did his heart die already? or was he just too numb to feel anything at the moment? all he can sense is tiredness, so he closes his eyes to nothingness. where he dreams about you, with him in the summer breeze and cheap popsicles, and nothing bad happened to you and him.

sounds like a nice dream.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #isagi x reader #nagi x reader #rin x reader #bachira x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader

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silky-nereid · 7 months

Text

— running away is easy

links : Art Deco dividers, Art nouveau dividers, Orange dividers and continuation of bee’s knees & memory’s regret

Yandere!cheater (Gerald) x Married!reader/you x Yandere!firework owner (Ray)

a/n: hopefully this oneshot makes sense and I apologize if it doesn’t make sense.

tw : violence (someone gets punched.), dehumanizing terms ( it, this thing.)

You finished getting ready, wearing light clothes to try and battle the scorching heat that decided to finally come down. You walked down the empty opulent hallways, walls lined with extravagant paintings. You heard a familiar sound of a dial telephone ringing from the dark oak double doors, pushing open the door to see a room mirroring a library.

A chandelier hung off the ceiling that depicted the latest swirls and elegance, rows and rows of bookshelves. Your hand grazed yet you decided to grab the receiver, holding it against your ear and grabbing the stem and pressed your lips closer to the mouthpiece.

“Hello?” Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. “How were you able to get this line? I am not going back today.”

You paced in small circles around the library, you saw them gesturing to the phone. Your hands let go of the receiver to let them continue the conversation with him which you decided to take the time to disconnect and you opened a book to read but the pages weren’t cut; they must not read often. You faintly heard the subtle remarks that they gave to him but you knew that he would always find a crack and open it more while roughly putting back the receiver on the holder.

Their footsteps trailed closer to you as they poked their head in the row that you were in with a hand on their hip, then started adjusting their cufflinks.

“Let’s go for a drive?” They suggested. “A drive will do us some good.”

You agreed to go through with a drive with a boiling sun whose rays felt that it would melt your skin off your nervous bones. It was somewhat going well, they had asked multiple times if you wanted to go shopping since it seemed that they had time to spare but you had declined the offers.

You used a handkerchief to cover your nose, trying to not breathe in the rancid stench of the sewers that seemed to be amplified by the boiling sun. The drive that ended up in the beginning, your hometown. The entrance was somewhat well taken care of and it still reeked of the elegance that you hadn’t missed.

“What are we doing here?” You asked.

“I wanted to bring you back home to present myself to your parents.” Their eyes stared straight ahead, not even glancing at you. “For when we marry.”

“What?” You stopped fanning yourself with your hand to look at them. “Do you hear yourself, Ray? Can you drive us back?”

The sound of whistling wind was something that you had gotten used to in the forced drive back to their home, you saw their tightened grip on the steering wheel. Your eyes looked at the roundabout as it had been filled up with a familiar car that you knew too well. Ray helped you out of the car, your eyes noticed the crooked frames of the hallway and the remains of a cleanup from a shattered vase as the paintings seemed to be hanging off a thread.

“Stay here,” they said. “ I will be back to figure out what happened.”

You crossed your arms, waited till their footsteps became distant echoes down the long hallways and followed the remaining coverups of a destruction that led to a dark oak door which had a small opening, your eyes winced at the sudden brightness from the lightbulbs but noticed who sat on the pink striped cabriole.

“I told you to stay there, dear.” Ray’s footsteps hurried down the hallway, grabbing your shoulders to face them. “Why couldn’t you listen to me? You could have gotten hurt.”

A subtle cough escaped his lips which you pulled away from them, stepping into the lounge that seemed to be decorated with lesser tastes. The room seemed to desperately mimic the insides of a hotel room that hadn’t been cleaned in days or weeks but it had bits of elegance that couldn’t be hidden despite the filth. The ashtray held fresh butts of cigars which rolled your eyes since it seems that he would later ask for a light or for a cigarette from your golden case tucked in your pocket.

You sat in the floral settee, your trembling hand tightly gripped the cushions from the armrest that seemed to shatter in your mind. Your free hand held a small chunk of ice wrapped in a small towel and pressed it against your neck that was drenched in sweat. Ray stood behind the floral settee, their hands rested on the wooden frame while glimmering rings decorated their fingers.

“Why are you here?” Ray broke the silence and looked at him. “How did you get in here?”

“To get back what is mine,” he responded. “They’re married to me, remember not to you. A bootlegger. I was let in clearly but this tiny escapade will end now but how unsightly for you, Ray.”

“Bootlegger?” You looked at them with confusion then to Gerald. “They’re no bootlegger, they just own a couple of shops downtown I believe.”

”Don’t tell me that you believe those rancid lies and I thought you knew everything about them,” Gerald scoffed. “They’re a bootlegger. They’re the very thing that corrupts good people like you.”

Gerald smiled at you but the smile never reached his eyes, rolling up his sleeves and strolling towards the miniature bar. His hands meticulously grabbed the ingredients which was an old fashioned glass, remaining ice that hadn’t melted yet from the heat, bourbon. He poured himself a drink and planted himself down next to you, his free arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“They want to tell you something, Gerald.” Ray stepped towards you, pulling you up. “Say it, you’ve been practicing. It’s your moment, dear.”

Your eyes watered from the heat, legs shaking in unbridled fear.

“I—I want to leave you.” Your eyes looked up at Ray then to him. “I’m going to leave you.”

Gerald’s smile dropped, placing the glass on the nearby table. He dabbed away the sweat with a towel and discarded it on the floral settee.

“There I told him. Can we go now? It’s too hot.” Your trembling back touched the windowsill, tugging on Ray’s cuff. “Ray, please. Let’s just go.”

“You have filled up their brain with this nonsense.” Gerald stared at Ray and got up, standing a foot away from them. “With these putrid fantasies, why can’t you understand that they do not love you despite everything you have done for them. They love me, they married me, not you.“

“They don’t love you,” Ray replied. “Dear, say it. That you never loved him, you need to break from him and I will treat you better. I won’t be like him, I won’t bring women home, I’ll be loyal to you. Just say it once.”

“See,” he said,” they can’t say it because they love me. It was one time that I brought someone home but I didn’t do it again, did I? Did the gentleman who was found ashore in the papers also get this so-called loyalty?”

Your trembling hands pulled Ray’s fist that seemed to be made of steel away from Gerald, your nails scratched their forearm causing beads of blood to form while tears streamed down your face. He turned to see you sobbing with Ray looming over you, trying to calm you down but you didn’t want to be around Ray. Your voice cracked from shouting at Ray and how it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Are you sure this is what you wanted and not what this thing is saying?” Gerald held his bloodied nose with a towel that he discarded on the settee. “It’s blatantly obvious that it needs to control this temper then who knows what will happen to you and I will not be able to protect you. Are you sure this is what you are leaving me for?”

You untangled yourself from Ray’s web and standing between him and them, your back touched the floral printed wall. Your blurry vision darted from them to him, hearing the familiar noise of a heartbeat in your ears. Trembling legs that inched away from Ray despite them having their arms out and using their hands seemingly trying to push down on something nonexistent to get closer to you; was this supposed to be calming?

“Dear, this isn’t like you.” They urged you to come to them with each step. “Come to me and I’ll give you what you need.”

“You hardly know them.” Gerald looked at Ray with a burning glance. “Just because they took refuge in this cesspool that you call a home does not mean that they will go to you.”

Yandere! Cheater ending

You inched closer to him and Gerald slowly began to wave you over while he stepped back. Your hands squeezed his forearm, he wiped the remaining dried blood from his nose before tucking the discarded bloodied towel in his pocket.

“It seems that they made their decision.”Gerald kissed the side of your temple. “Let’s go to the car. A drive will do us good.”

Gerald’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His footsteps guided out the door and down the marble steps till a tug on your wrist snapped you back into the humid reality.

“You don’t have to go to him,” Ray said. “Look at me, please. You can still make this right.”

Gerald pulled your wrist out of their grasp and helped you inside the car. His free hand drew circles in space where thumb met the index finger, the smile finally reached his eyes through the drive home back to the small world across the dock.

Your eyes looked at the blue sky shifting and exposing the insides of oranges, pinks, and purples. The sky had been dyed pitch black with glimmering rhinestones stitched into the fabric, he helped you out. Your coat had been peeled off your shoulders and you expected to hear only your footsteps and the occasional servants but it was doubled with his.

“Why the change of heart, Gerald?” You asked. “Why have you decided to stay rather than going into her arms?”

“You seemed distracted more than ever,” he replied. “She can wait but it seems that I have neglected you for far too long, haven’t I?”

Gerald guided you once more to the bedroom, his hands carefully peeled away your clothes to be replaced with your comfortable nightwear and he sat you down on the cabriole.

“What did you do to me?” Your knees pressed up against your chest and eyes tracing the custom design on the cabriole. “I don’t know where I begin and where you end.”

Gerald’s eyes looked at you and his footsteps stopped at the side of the cabriole’s armrest. You looked up at him, a warm hand that held yours and slipping on your wedding ring. His hands held your face up and he seemed to try to understand the knots and tangles of your mind.

“We have stayed here too long, don’t you agree?” He asked. “Let’s go on a trip and this time you get to choose where we go. Would you like this?”

You agreed that he sat down next to you and wrapped his arm around you, your fingertips traced the circles on his knuckles; feeling the vein, warmth, and calloused palms.

Yandere! Firework owner ending

You held the wedding ring that made you tethered to him, it was a piece of melted metal that meant something special years ago but it meant nothing now. Gerald’s lips grew into a smile, taking back the ring and asking for a light and a cigarette.

“Someone will get your things.” He looked at you and them. “I won’t be there if this fails.”

Gerald’s footsteps echoed throughout the hallways till it became a distant memory in the halls.

Days had passed which Ray’s eyes seemed to remind you of a cat’s pupils that would grow bigger each time they saw you despite now living in the same house.

You were wearing comfortable loose clothes and sat on one of the lounge chairs, seeing the house that was once yours across the dock; how small and insignificant it looked. Ray’s hands held you delicately as if their body was molded specifically to hold you, their fingertips drew swirls on your spine that caused your hands to tighten on the back of their coat.

“Did I hurt you?” They stopped the swirls. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“It’s alright.” You smiled, holding their face that seemed to be the boiling sun in your hands. “Are you alright? Has your hand healed?”

“It’s just a scratch.” They showed their bandaged hand. “Nothing new, my love.”

Ray’s eyes admired your wonderful features, often asking if you secretly were a noble who bewitched them with your very presence.

Your grip tightened on their forearm with each step towards your old childhood home.

“Why are we here again?” You asked. “Can’t we do this another day?“

“To get your parents' blessing.” They looked at you. “Love, we must do this since we cannot push this back even further.”

You watched the familiar door open to be greeted by an older couple whose face molded into happier faces. Surely, they are looking for someone else.

The furniture was in the same exact place since you left, your knuckles knocked on the wooden door frame to get rid of remaining thoughts that decided to bury themselves in your brain. You disliked the suffocating taste of the home, standing on the steps and hearing the excited footsteps of Ray.

“I got the blessing, my love.” They smiled. “Are you alright?”

“Let’s just go to the car,” you replied.

Ray walked and helped you into the car, you could feel the boiling excitement from underneath their very skin.

“Do you think that we could go to the beach?” You smiled. “I haven’t been there in ages.”

#yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere prompt #tw yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere fic #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader x yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere male x you #totally might rewrite an ending

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kyleoreillylover · 9 months

Text

Loyalty- Chapter 1: The Beginning.

Series Summary/Masterlist

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius

Chapter Summary: The cracks in your sweet persona are showing. Jey wants to help you through them, and Roman wants to capitalize on them.

word count: 13,992 (ik it's long but bare with me!!! you'll get less chapters more content, trust me pls :)) warnings: manipulation, cheating, wrestling related violence.

WRESTLEMANIA BACKLASH 2020

Blue.

Blue used to be your favorite color. The serene hue that used to beckon memories of tranquility, now seemed tainted by the complexities of the present. Your once form fitted sparkling blue gear was now blood stained and glimmering with sweat, the championship it matched no longer in your grasp.

But now, the color made you want to throw up. The sight of you made you want to throw up.

You stared back at your reflection in your dressing room mirror, the dressing room mirror reflecting an image you hardly recognized. Your face was bruised and distorted, your eye swollen shut and lip cut and bleeding from the fight you were in just moments ago with Ronda Rousey.

And just a few minutes before that match, you were informed that you would be dropping your Smackdown Women's Championship to her, because they thought that was what was best for business. Because not telling you beforehand wasn't what was best for business.

Casting you- the nicknamed Princess of Pain of WWE because of your kind nature and killer attitude in the ring-one of the biggest babyfaces on the roster, one of the biggest merch sellers, one of the greatest on the mic and in the ring, and finally one of their champions after so many years of crawling to the top from the NXT food chain to your win against Sasha Banks in one of the most historic main events ever at Wrestlemania to hold your first main roster title- to the side after less than a month as a champion was best for business.

Making you finally have your moment on the grandest stage of them all only to have it shattered so soon at Ronda's request after she just came back from her months-long vacation was best for business.

Sami tried to console you, he knew from the look on your face as you left the meeting before your match and ran into him that something was horribly wrong.

But you brushed off his attempts at comforting you with a solemn smile and a 'I'm fine, don't worry about me, Sami.' and took off before he could inquire any more. If he pushed any more with those brown eyes that always seemed to know what you were thinking and those warm arms that he outstretched towards you, you knew you would fall into them and cry.

You decided instead of yelling at management, you tried to make the best of it and lead Ronda into a good match and push any animosity you had and be cordial- you could get another opportunity in the future. And maybe this would lead to one of your friends-like Liv or Rhea-taking the title off of her and getting their moment they absolutely deserved.

But all those thoughts left your brain when she stared back across the ring from you with that stupid smirk across her face and went off script and punched you square in the nose so hard that it broke and your face was trickled with blood before the bell even rang.

There would be no holding back, you thought. Even if I lose, I'ma make sure I come out the true fucking winner and make her work for it.

And work for it Ronda did. The two of you beat the holy hell out of each other. Under the bright lights, punches were not pulled, and bodies were broken.

The commentary table was destroyed when you pile-driven Ronda through it. Your face was covered in grim and blood from where Ronda attacked it, the blood getting into your eyes and making you wipe it every 5 seconds. and Ronda's shoulder was dislocated from where you rammed a chair into it, relishing in her cries of pain.

How's it feel going off script now, bitch?, you thought.

Sami knew you weren't okay though when Ronda finally got you into a sleeper hold and your eyes fluttered shut after hanging on for so long, and instead of tapping out as planned, deciding to pass out.

Ronda clearly didn't like what you were doing, since she tightened her grip on your neck and didn't let go for a full five minutes, only pushing herself off of you when Adam Pearce and medical/security staff finally convinced her to let go of you.

"I'm what's best for business!" She screamed into your face, waving your title around with a cocky smirk on her face as she watched you glare at her, pushing away the medical staff weakly and refuse to get on the stretcher, much to their chagrin. "Not some nice weak little bitch who peaked in NXT!"

Her words hurt more than the physical pain you were in, and you kept repeating them in your mind as you wiped your face, wincing with every wipe.

You went to medical, but there was only so much they could do. They put your nose back in place, (Sami barged into the room and forced you to let him stay, and his hand almost broke under your grip when the doctor was fixing your nose), disinfected your lip, gave you some pain meds, and told you that you'd be cleared to wrestle in a couple of weeks, and instructed you to put ice on your bruised body.

Sami was planning on getting your stuff from your locker room and bringing you to your hotel room so he could help you relax (much to your annoyance, all you wanted to do was be alone and wallow in your own self-pity), when you ran into a concerned looking Kevin in the hallway.

The scene he saw before him- Sami trying to wrap an arm around you to help you up and your stubborn ass refusing him, made him explode in anger and concern. But much like with everything Kevin says, it came out in the worst way possible.

"Just because Ronda knocked the marbles outta your head doesn't mean you get to act stupid. Let Sami help you, you dumbass!" he shouted, gesturing wildly in his frustration.

You glared at Kevin, not in the mood for him tonight. Why he thought he had any right to speak to you like that was beyond comprehension. He was no longer your best friend, so he shouldn't be acting like he even cared. He didn't care when he cost you how many championships when you were about to win them, did he? Of course now he wants to speak with you.

Despite the pain and the swirling emotions, you managed to push Sami away, moving closer to Kevin with a fiery gaze.

"Oh, so now you wanna care about me? Very funny." you spat, your voice dripping with disdain. "And last time I checked, Ronda came out that match with a broken shoulder, and if you don't get away from me in the next 5 seconds, I'll break yours too."

Kevin huffed as if he couldn't decide between continuing the argument or stepping back, but he saw Sami rubbing your back and trying to comfort you despite your resistance, and he couldn't hold back his sharp tongue or his jealousy.

"Does that only apply to everyone or is Sami the exception as always?" Kevin shot back, his frustration evident in his tone. "For fucks sake, your bleeding and all you can care about is the fact that I'm telling you the truth, and you can't handle it like always."

Your fists clenched at your sides as Kevin's words pierced through the haze of pain and anger. You wanted to scream at him, to make him understand the turmoil raging within you, but the searing pain in your body drowned out any coherent thoughts.

Before you could retort, Sami stepped between you and Kevin, cutting Kevin with a glare that could cut through steel. "Are you seriously jealous that I'm trying to take care of her? Maybe you would have that opportunity if you actually acted like you cared about her!" Sami mocked, his voice low and seething with frustration.

Kevin knew he should've focused on your physical and mental state instead of starting the argument, but the fire was lit and Sami only added to the gasoline. "Maybe I would've had that opportunity if she didn't constantly take your side and ignore her actual best friend!"

At Sami's incredulous look at his statement, Kevin scowled and glared at him. "Don't act like I'm not right. No matter what I do, it's always Sami this, Sami that. 'Oh Y/N, we hate Kevin, we can't trust Kevin.' Like I don't exist. Like he's the only one who gets to be there for you!"

Sami glowered at Kevin, shaking his head in disbelief. "I do get to be the only one there for her! Because you weren't there for us when we needed you."

This time it was Kevin shaking his head in disbelief, a wry smile on his face. "Oh my god, do you not hear yourself? We, we, we? You don't care about her, you just care about trying to avenge yourself for the past! You only want her to yourself because you know that your own actions pushed her away, so you are trying to blame yourself on me!"

Your head throbbed with pain as their argument escalated, each word feeling like a dagger in your already wounded heart. The realization that this altercation was about more than just your well-being dawned upon you. They were fighting for a place in your life, a place you were struggling to define for yourself amidst the chaos of tonight.

"Blame your actions on me! Blame your short comings in your careers on me! Blame Y/N's shitty title reign on me! Blame everything on me, because that's what you always do! Y/N can't see past your stupid sweet smile and fake friendship to realize that you're manipulating her emotions!" Kevin retorted, his voice rising in frustration.

"Enough!" Your voice shattered through the heated exchange, cutting their argument short. Breathing heavily, you felt the pain and exhaustion wash over you, but a surge of anger and hurt fueled your words. Both men turned to you, their angry expressions faltering at the angry expression on your bruised up face.

"This is not about you two!" You shouted, your voice a mixture of frustration and agony. "This is about me! About what happened out there!"

You gestured vaguely toward the arena, a reminder of the brutal match you just endured. "This is not about which one of you gets to be by my side or who's the better friend. This is about how I'm feeling right now, which is like absolute shit! I just got my ass handed to me in the ring, and all I want is to be left alone!"

Your voice cracked with emotion as tears welled up in your eyes, a combination of physical pain and the emotional turmoil caused by the situation. You turned to Kevin, who was taking a step forward, his expression now more concerned than combative.

"Kevin..." You struggled to maintain your composure, wiping away a stray tear. "You want me to stop blaming you? For everything? For all your mistakes? For my 'shitty title reign'?" Kevin winced as your words hit him hard. "Well, I'm sorry if I'm not in the mood to hear about how you're such a great friend and how you care about me after everything that's happened tonight."

Your voice cracked as you fought to keep your emotions in check. "But I'll stop blaming you forever. We are done. Forever. You want to feel no more guilt? You choked on your words, a mix of anguish and frustration bubbling up inside. "Here's your freedom from the burden of my friendship, Kevin. Congratulations."

"Y/N..."

"And you!" You turned to Sami, who had been until he just now piped up quietly standing by, his face twisted with concern and guilt. "Kevin is right. You seem to think you know what's best for me, but you don't! You both think you know what's best for me, but you don't!"

Your voice trembled with emotion as you struggled to articulate the storm of feelings raging within you. "I'm tired of this, Sami. I'm tired of feeling like I owe you everything because you've been there for me. I'm tired of you expecting me to be okay with everything when I'm not! I'm tired of being pushed and pulled in every direction, as if I'm some prize to be won!"

Sami's eyes widened in shock and hurt, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch your arm, but you flinched away from his touch. The pain, both physical and emotional, was overwhelming, and you couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take their expectations anymore.

"So I'm done with this. I'm done with the both of you." Your voice shook as tears streamed down your face, your body trembling from the sheer weight of the emotional turmoil. "I just want to be alone. Please, just leave me alone."

Without waiting for a response, you turned away from both of them and staggered down the hallway, pain pulsating through your body with every step. The sounds of their voices, their arguments, and the echoes of your own shattered feelings reverberated in your mind as you disappeared into the corridor, seeking solace in the solitude of your dressing room.

And now, there you sit, surrounded by the eerie silence of the empty dressing room. The chaos of emotions swirls within, echoing the bruises and wounds that adorn your body.

Eventually you showered and changed into a hoodie and shorts, but you sat right back in your seat, your mind a heavy fog you didn't know how to navigate. Not some nice weak little bitch who peaked in NXT! Not some nice weak little bitch who peaked in NXT!

You're not sure how long you've been sitting there, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. A knock on the door interrupts your solitary moment. Assuming it was Sami or Kevin, you rolled your eyes before realizing you didn't want to see either of them again tonight, or ever.

"I said I want to be alone! So go away!" you call out, your voice strained from the emotional outburst.

"If you're assuming it's those parasites you call best friends, you are mistaken, miss." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the voice, and you stood up to see who it was.

The door creaked open slowly, and in stepped a figure you didn't expect to see- Paul Heyman.

"Paul? What are you doing here?" you asked, wiping away tears and trying to compose yourself in the presence of the unexpected visitor.

"I came to see you. May I have a moment of your time, please?" Paul's tone was calm and measured, and there was something in his demeanor that seemed earnest.

Despite your reluctance to engage with anyone at that moment, there was an air of sincerity in Paul's request that piqued your curiosity. You nodded silently, gesturing for him to proceed.

"I watched your match tonight," Paul began, his gaze steady as he spoke. "What happened out there was unfortunate, to say the least. But I must admit, I was impressed by your resilience, your determination to give it your all despite the circumstances."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of where Paul was going with this. His presence felt unusual, especially considering the two of you never directly interacted much before.

"I know we're not directly associated, you and I being on different levels and divisions of the playing field, but I couldn't help but notice something remarkable about your performance," Paul continued, his expression thoughtful. "Your tenacity, your ability to hold your ground, even when faced with adversity, it's something that caught my attention."

You remained silent, studying Paul's demeanor. His words were unexpected, and you couldn't quite grasp his intentions behind this unexpected visit.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping any boundaries, but I believe there's potential in you that hasn't been fully realized yet," Paul remarked, his gaze unwavering. "You have something special, something that transcends mere championship reigns or victories," Paul emphasized, his expression earnest. "You have the ability to connect with the audience on a deeper level, to evoke emotions, to tell a story. That's a rare gift, one that can't be overshadowed by a single match or a title loss."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such words from Paul Heyman of all people. His assessment of your performance and his acknowledgement of your capabilities left you momentarily speechless. You'd never imagined receiving this level of acknowledgment from someone of his stature, especially not in the midst of your emotional turmoil.

"I... I don't know what to say," you stammered, your voice wavering slightly as you struggled to process Paul's unexpected praise.

"Take a moment, breathe," Paul offered, a reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I simply wanted to express my genuine admiration for what you showcased out there tonight. Despite the outcome, you displayed a raw emotion and resilience that's commendable. You have the fire, the determination, and a resilience that's quite admirable. But sometimes, in this business, one needs more than just talent and determination to succeed."

You frowned slightly, feeling a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "Excuse me, but what exactly are you trying to say, Paul?" you inquired, your voice tinged with a hint of caution.

Paul paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully.

"What I'm trying to convey is that sometimes, the most powerful narratives in this industry are born out of moments like this. Moments of struggle, of pain, of setbacks. Your journey resonates with the audience because it's real, it's relatable. You've faced challenges, setbacks, and yet you continue to fight, not just in the ring but against the odds stacked against you. And that's where true stories are born, in the depths of adversity."

You didn't know how to react to Paul's words. He was offering a perspective you hadn't considered amidst the chaos of emotions and conflicts you were dealing with, but why he was expressing this to you was still a mystery.

"I understand this might be a lot to take in, especially given the circumstances," Paul acknowledged, his tone empathetic. " But I believe that your journey doesn't end here, with this loss. It continues, it evolves, and it becomes something greater. It doesn't end with a loss, it starts with one."

You narrowed your eyes slightly, trying to discern Paul's true intentions behind his unexpected pep talk. His words were both encouraging and cryptic, leaving you with a sense of curiosity and intrigued.

"I appreciate your perspective, Paul," you said cautiously, your voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and skepticism. "But why are you telling me this?"

Paul smiled slightly, his eyes glinting with a sense of intrigue. "Because I want to help you start your journey." He pulled out something from his pocket and handed it to you - a business card with The Bloodline's contact information.

"I understand you are old friends with Roman Reigns," Paul explained. "The Head of the Table. He's been quite impressed with your work, always has been. But tonight he would like to offer you something more than just admiration. He wants to offer you an opportunity."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. The idea of being offered an opportunity by your old friend Roman tonight was unexpected, to say the least. You glanced down at the business card in your hand, then back up at Paul, waiting for further explanation.

"Roman sees potential in you, in what you bring to the table," Paul continued, his tone measured yet confident. "And he's not just saying it as a friend-he is saying it as the Head of the Table, as the leader of The Bloodline. And I understand that the two of you have history, a friendship that predates your WWE career. Upper management might not believe in you, but Roman does, trust me. And after tonight, he sees that they need to believe in you too."

Your mind raced with a flurry of emotions and thoughts. The unexpected turn of events, the offer from Roman, the belief that someone like Paul Heyman seemed to have in your potential - it was all overwhelming, especially in the midst of your emotional turmoil and the fallout with your friends.

"I am gonna be really honest and tell you that I am bruised, I am beaten and I don't have the mental capacity to absorb all of this right now." You admitted, your voice trembling slightly with exhaustion.

Paul chuckled, smiling wide at you. This was going well.

"I understand. I didn't expect you to have it all figured out in one moment," Paul reassured, his tone understanding. "Take your time. Rest, recover, and if you ever want to explore possibilities beyond what's currently being presented to you, if you want to tell a story that truly reflects your spirit and resilience, give me a call."

You stared at the business card in your hand, surprised at the turn of events. "Think about it," Paul said, noting your contemplative expression, before nodding at you and leaving the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sank back into the chair when you were once again enveloped by the silence of the empty dressing room. You didn't know what to think, what to do, how to act. All you knew was that you wanted to go to your hotel room and sleep this day off. You sat up, grabbing your phone and checking it.

outgoing text to Seth <;3: I need you tonight. come over to my room?

read.

You sighed, but your body was not surprised and too weak for you to be angry. You could deal with your brooding boyfriends self later. You didn't have the emotional capacity to baby him on why he should care about you right now.

You grabbed your stuff, heading out of the dressing room with a heavy heart and a weary body. Your uber ride was quick, and you finally arrived at your hotel room.

The exhaustion and emotional weight of the day settled in as you entered the room, the only solace being the relative quiet and isolation. You decided to take a quick shower, hoping that the warm water might provide a momentary escape from the chaos of the day. As the water cascaded down, you felt a bit of the tension ebbing away, though the emotional turmoil lingered.

After the shower, you slipped into comfortable pajamas, feeling the heaviness of the day sinking in. Your phone dinged with a text, and you picked it up, expecting it to be Seth or one of the girls asking if you were okay.

Instead, the message was from an unknown number, which struck you as odd. Curious, you opened it to read:

"Hey, it's Jey. Paul gave me your number. I know you was expecting Roman, but unfortunately, he's occupied right now. He wanted me to reach out to you instead. If you need anything or want to talk, I'm here. Take care."

You blinked in surprise at the unexpected message from Jey Uso. Why he might be reaching out on Roman's behalf was a bit puzzling. Why any of this was happening right now was puzzling. You didn't have the energy for this. So despite the curiosity gnawing at you, you didn't respond.

Turning your phone off, you snuggled into your bed, the warm covers offering you comfort from your pain. Your eyes fluttered shut, the exhaustion taking over, and soon, you were lost in the realm of sleep with only one thought on your mind.

You were going to get your comeuppance, no matter what.

liked by yaonlylivonce, sethrollins, beckylynch, uceyjucey and 500,000 others

Y/N: Vacation was just what I needed 🏖️

view all comments:

user: you deserved better!! ronda shouldn’t have taken ur title!!

user: so are u staying in the wwe or walking out?

user: wwe got u fucked up if they think we just gon' take that!!

livmorgan: mother!!!

sethrollins: my girl!

↳beckylynch: mhm.

↳user: huh?

↳user: nah becky rlly tweaking rn 😭

user: why didn't Seth go with you?

↳ user: and they don't even post each other like that no more 👀 but lemme not be messy 😭

"Why do we even need to think of adding a new person in the Bloodline? She ain't even talk to none of us anyways." Jey sighed as he shut off his phone from where he was checking your Instagram, in anger or disappointment he didn't know.

It had been almost 2 months since you were seen in the WWE, and you never responded to his text message. Or, according to rumors, to any of the higher ups either. Apparently you told them you'd come back when you were ready, and left it at that, leaving them just as much in the dark as the fans were.

Jey just assumed that you were feeling overwhelmed or needed some personal space to get better and that's why you ain't respond to him, but after the first week he concluded you were ignoring him deliberately.

"Roman, she ain't even trying to reach out or nothing," Jey continued, frustration evident in his voice. "Paul's been trying to push her into this whole thing, but she's just ghosted everyone. What's the point of bringing her into the mix if she don't even wanna be here?"

Roman glanced up from the papers on his desk, his expression unreadable. He had his suspicions about your absence, but he chose to keep them to himself.

"Give her time, Jey," he said calmly. "If she's not responding, it means she's not ready or willing to engage. We can't force her into something she's not comfortable with. Trust me, I know how she is. She's like you; she moves at her own pace and needs space, otherwise that fire she has will simmer down."

Jey let out a frustrated sigh, tossing his phone onto the table. He understood what Roman was saying, but for whatever reason it still frustrated him not to hear from you. He never even talked to you-you shared the same circle but never crossed paths-yet when he saw your Instagram pics he felt a connection that he couldn't explain.

"I just feel like we're all sitting here waiting for something that might never happen," Jey muttered, looking up at Roman with a mix of concern and frustration.

Roman checked his watch and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head, his gaze fixed on Jey. "Trust me, we won't be waiting any longer."

Jey raised an eyebrow, confusion written all over his face before a knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Roman gestured for Jey to open it.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing you , standing in the doorway. Your appearance was a stark contrast from the last time they saw you—determined, your gaze steady despite the tiredness in your eyes, your aura a mix of confidence and vulnerability. It was evident that the time away had changed you, but in ways they couldn't quite discern.

You glanced between Roman and Jey, a mixture of emotions playing across your face—resilience, uncertainty, and a hint of determination.

"Y/N?" Jey exclaimed in surprise, his eyes widening as he took in your presence. Roman remained composed, his gaze fixed on you as he gestured for you to come in.

You hesitated for a moment but Jey closing the door behind you prompted you to step forward into the room. You were wearing a low cut black tank top, your hair pulled back into a messy bun, and loose jeans, a far cry from the glitz and glam of your WWE persona. You hadn't expected to come back just yet, but something in you told you it was time, time to face what you had been avoiding.

"Sorry I'm late-" You tried to apologize but Roman interrupted, his voice calm and composed. "No need to apologize. You're right on time. Take a seat."

You pursed your lips, sitting down as indicated, feeling the weight of the atmosphere in the room. Roman's composed demeanor didn't fail to remind you of the authority he held, even in a casual setting like this.

"I know I've been MIA, and I haven't been responsive," you began, your voice tentative as you glanced between Roman and Jey. "There's no excuse for my absence or for not responding to your messages."

Jey opened his mouth to speak, but Roman held up a hand, indicating he should remain silent for now. "We understand," Roman said calmly, his gaze fixed on you. "We just wanted to ensure you were okay. We know you needed your time. Are you healing up okay?"

You nodded, the weight of their understanding and non-confrontational approach easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "Yeah, I'm getting better, but it's been a process." You admitted, lifting your shirt slightly to reveal a faint scar along your ribs that made both men wince. "As you can see."

"Damn, Ronda really fucked you up, huh?" At your glare, Jey winced and apologized, "I mean, sorry. Didn't mean to be rude. Just saying, it's good to see you back though. People here missed you."

Roman inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Indeed. Your absence has been felt, Y/N."

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Being back here, facing Roman, it was both daunting and strangely comforting. "I... I didn't plan on coming back just yet, but something made me reconsider."

Jey leaned forward, curiosity evident in his voice. "What made you change your mind?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much you wanted to disclose. You were close with Roman after all, not Jey. But something in his gaze told you that this conversation was one you could trust them with. Trust him with.

"I needed time away, time to think, to heal. But something in me told me it was time to face things, to come back and finish the journey."

Roman leaned back into his chair, his gaze still focused on you. "I'm glad that you're back, and I apologize that we haven't been in contact like we used to. Being the head of the ribal Chief comes with its own responsibilities, and sometimes that means we overlook things. But I assure you, you're still family to me. Which is why I sent Paul after you to make sure you were alright."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at Roman's words, the mention of Paul's involvement still puzzling you. "Yeah, about Paul?" you questioned, confusion evident in your voice. "He reached out to me a while back, but I didn't quite understand what he wanted. Something about an opportunity."

Roman nodded, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes. I told him to check up on you, see how you were doing. But most importantly, to ask you about an opprounity." He paused, leaning forward, his demeanor shifting to a more business-like tone. "And that is to be my right hand woman."

Your breath caught in your throat at Roman's statement, and you were sure that if you were drinking water that would have been the moment you'd have spat it out in surprise. "I-I'm sorry?"

Roman, to his credit, maintained his composed demeanor, his gaze steady yet filled with a hint of amusement at your reaction as he repeated himself. “I want you by my side, as a part of the Bloodline. To be the right hand woman I need. You've got the fire and resilience that I've been looking for. You might have been gone for a bit, but it doesn't change what you bring to the table. And I want to make you start your journey and realize you bring the whole damn universe to the table."

You were speechless, your mind reeling from this entire converstation. Being invited to be a part of the Bloodline, to serve as Roman's right hand, it was beyond anything you had imagined or anticipated.

"I... I don't know what to say," you stammered, your mind racing with a flurry of emotions. "But.. I'm not blood like the rest of you. I'm not a part of your family, Roman. I don't know if I fit in with the Bloodline."

Roman leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he observed your reaction. "That's why I said my right hand woman, not my right hand blood. Like with Paul, he's my wiseman and not my blood. You can be that, and so much more." Roman's words were deliberate, his tone holding a weight of certainty.

Roman's words were deliberate, his tone holding a weight of certainty. "You can be the greatest woman's champion the WWE has ever seen. You can be the greatest asset to the Bloodline, regardless of blood relations. You can be the greatest woman to hold this position, all the power, and you don't need to be blood to achieve that." He leaned closer to you, his eyes fixated on yours, his words laden with conviction. "All you have to do is acknowledge me."

You breathed heavily, were taken aback by Roman's sincerity and the offer itself. It was something you hadn't anticipated, especially after your absence and the confusion that surrounded your return. "But why do you want me?" You asked, your voice a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity. "I mean, I've been gone for so long. There are others who could be much better at this role, much more qualified than I am."

Roman leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips as he regarded you. "Even after all these years you are still as modest as ever," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"I want you because you bring something to the table that others might not possess. I realized that in this group of men that I lead, I need a woman that can calm our fires and amplify our strengths, yet ignite those same fires when necessary. I need a woman that can command respect without uttering a word, someone who carries their own weight, and someone who's unafraid to respectfully challenge me when needed because I trust your judgement after years of friendship. You possess a fire that's essential for what I envision. You might not see it, but I do."

You were stunned by Roman's words. His perception of you and the role he believed you could play within the Bloodline were far beyond what you had imagined. The weight of his trust and the responsibility he was offering left you feeling both honored and overwhelmed.

"I... I need some time to think about this," you finally replied, still processing the enormity of Roman's proposition. "It's a lot to take in, Roman. I appreciate the offer, but you must understand that I need a minute to-"

"I understand," Roman interrupted, his voice gentle yet firm. "Take all the time you need. I don't expect an answer right away. Just know that the offer stands, and whenever you're ready to give me your response, I'll be here." He leaned back, giving you a reassuring nod that you delivered back. "Jey, walk her out."

Jey, who had been observing the exchange in silence, leaned forward and stood up, nodding at Roman. "Sure thing, Uce." He turned to you, offering you a small smile as he was a gentlemen, but his expression was guarded. "C'mon, I'll walk you out."

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Standing up from your seat, you cast one last glance at Roman, who nodded in acknowledgment before you followed Jey out of the room.

As you walked alongside Jey, silence enveloped both of you. It was a strange feeling—being back here, facing the unexpected turn of events, facing your own emotions, and considering the proposition Roman had offered. Jey seemed contemplative, as if he had questions but chose not to voice them until you were almost at the exit.

"Why?'

You blinked at Jey's question, taking a moment to process his words. "Why what?" you asked, slightly puzzled by his sudden inquiry.

"Why you?" Jey clarified, glancing at you with a mix of curiosity and scrutiny. "I mean, I know ya'll are friends, but you've been gone for a while. You've been quiet, and suddenly, the Tribal Chief wants you back as his right hand. What's so special about you?"

You paused, considering your response. Jey had a point. Your sudden reappearance and Roman's offer might seem surprising to someone observing from the outside. Taking a breath, you decided to offer a glimpse of your perspective.

"I wish I could give you an answer, Jey." You replied, your voice measured as you walked alongside him. "But I honestly don't know. This all happened so fast. One minute I'm trying to cope with my loss, and the next, Roman's offering me a position within the Bloodline." You looked at him quizzically before continuing. "Why do you think Roman offered this to me?"

Jey furrowed his brows, contemplating your question. He wasn't expecting you to seek his input on the matter. Nobody really asked him for his opinion within the family, but there was something in your gaze that prompted him to consider your query seriously. Maybe it was because you actually desired his opinion in a time where no one else did that slightly warmed his heart, but he’d never admit it.

"I don't know," Jey replied honestly, shaking his head slightly. "But Roman sees something in you. Something that he thinks can be an asset to us. You might not see it, but he does."

He paused, glancing at you briefly before averting his gaze. "Maybe it's 'cause he trusts you. Or maybe there's something you bring that nobody else does. I ain't sure, but I know when Roman makes a move like this, he's got his reasons. He don't just do things without a reason."

You nodded thoughtfully, giving Jey a smile as you processed his words. "Well, whatever the reason, I hope it leads to me seeing you around more often,” you added with a light chuckle, trying to ease the tension slightly.

Jey offered a small smile in return, though his expression remained somewhat guarded even though he wanted to be friendly. A nice pretty girl wanted to be his friend and all he was doing was analyzing her for answers on Roman. “Yeah, we'll see about that," he replied cryptically before opening the door for you. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

You gave Jey a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating his gesture. "You too, Jey. Thanks for walking me out." With a last smile, Jey watched as you left the arena, your beautiful presence disappearing as you stepped out.

‘Damn,’ Jey thought to himself, there's something more to her than meets the eye.’ Maybe he had underestimated you. Maybe it's worth paying attention to.

And maybe he wouldn’t hate getting to know you more.

You winced slightly as you changed into your gym clothes in the locker room. It had been a few months now since you got hurt, and you were now cleared, but your body still hurt like a bitch.

It had also been a few months since Roman asked you to join the Bloodline, and you gave him your answer a few weeks later: A resounding yes.

You tried to acknowledge him in the confines of his office with the Jimmy, Jey and Paul with you, but Roman told you that he'd make you acknowledge when you passed his test and he would know for sure you were loyal to the Bloodline. Roman told you in the meantime thought to get acquainted with the rest of the members, and to start training with them until you were ready to be on TV again. Which led to you going to the Bloodline's own personal gym located in the arena and training and hanging out with the twins.

Jimmy was funny, cool, and always hyped up, and quickly took a liking to you because of your shared humor and your kind spirit; the two of you were always goofing around and letting loose. But Jey was- as you found out- a tough nut to crack.

It wasn't like he was rude- he never yelled at you or treated you poorly. In fact, he was quite respectful, but but he had a guarded demeanor around you. He was more reserved, observant, and often seemed lost in his thoughts. You found it a bit challenging to get him to open up or engage in conversations beyond the necessary exchanges during training sessions.

It was like there was an invisible barrier that kept you both at a distance. You couldn't quite pinpoint why, but there was an underlying tension whenever you were around him. You tried to engage in conversation, crack jokes, or even just ask about his day, but his responses were always short and guarded.

It was like he had his guard up around you all the time, but it didn't make things awkward or uncomfortable; rather, it made you more determined to break through that barrier.

But it wasn't your own doing that almost broke through that barrier though. It was Kevin. One day, after a particularly tough training session, you were sitting on the bench catching your breath while Jey was nearby, lost in his thoughts as usual. You glared when you saw Kevin coming over to you.

"This is a private gym, Kevin. I knew you were stupid, but I didnt think you were illiterate." You spat at him. Kevin wasn't fazed by your reaction, instead coming closer to you.

"You're right. This is a private gym for the Bloodline. So what are you doing here?" Kevin huffed at you. This had to be a mistake, there's no way you would join the faction that tried to take him out.

"I am here as part of the Bloodline. So you need to leave." You stood up, facing Kevin with determination in your eyes. The tension in the air was palpable, and it seemed like a confrontation was inevitable.

Jey, who had been nearby, observing the interaction, raised a cautious eyebrow at Kevin's approach and your response. He had seen you and Kevin exchange words before, and it was clear there was some animosity between you two. He and everyone knew you guys were ex-best friends, and Jey wasn't one to meddle in others' business, especially when it came to personal disputes, but something about this situation made him uneasy.

Kevin glanced between you and Jey, his expression morphing into one of disbelief. "You?" He scoffed, his tone laced with incredulity. "Part of the Bloodline? That's a joke, right?"

When you didn't respond, he chuckled sarcasatically, like he couldn't believe it. "Are you kidding me? Are you stupid? Damn, I was right when I said that Ronda knocked some marbles outta your head. You really think that joining them is a good idea? They are nothing but manipulative shitheads."

You rolled your eyes, unamused by Kevin's insults. Typical Kevin, never congratulating you on anything good you do or are a part of. "You don't know anything about what's going on, Kevin. So just leave."

But Kevin seemed undeterred, his voice rising slightly. "They're using you, Y/N. Can't you see that? You're better than this. Don't let them drag you down into their mess. They'll chew you up and spit you out like they do with everyone else."

You tried to ignore him and go back to lifting your weights, but Kevin snatched the dumbbell from your hand, causing you to stand up abruptly, a mix of frustration and anger evident on your face. "Give it back, Kevin," you demanded firmly, your tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on with you! Are you this demented that you can't see when you're being played?"

"Seems like the only demented person here is you!" You tried to grab he dumbbell back, but Kevin held onto it firmly, a stubborn look on his face. The tension in the gym escalated as your argument continued, both of you getting more heated with your words.

"They are just using you!"

"Of course you would know about using people, that's all you ever do!"

"God, you are so much like Sami! So fucking naive and stubborn!"

The mention of Sami seemed to strike a nerve with you. You clenched your jaw, your expression turning stony as you took a step closer to Kevin.

"I told you that I'm done with you and Sami," you seethed, your voice low and filled with a dangerous edge. "So give me back the dumbbell and get the fuck out of here, and the fuck out of my life."

"Im just trying to protect you, damn it!"

"She don't need your protecting no more, she got the Bloodline." The both of you turned at the sudden interruption, and you looked up at Jey who moved in front of you and was glaring at Kevin with an intense gaze, his tone firm and commanding.

"Excuse me? This doesn't concern you, so just leave us alone." Kevin glared at Jey, not appreciating his interference. To him, Jey was just another member of the faction that he despised and that was using you.

Jey narrowed his eyes slightly, his stance unwavering and his voice steady as he spoke. "She's a part of the Bloodline now, Kevin. It does concern me. Give her the dumbbell, and leave us alone."

Kevin stared back at Jey for a moment, his eyes flickering between Jey's imposing stance and your determined one, and you thought that a fight would break out between them, but eventually, he dropped the dumbbell with a scoff. "

Fine. But don't think that I'm letting them take you from me." With that threat, Kevin shot one last glare at both of you before storming out of the gym.

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of the confrontation easing off your shoulders. Turning to Jey, who was still standing in front of you, you were taken aback by the protective stance he had taken during the argument.

"Thank you, Jey," you said softly, grateful for his intervention. "I appreciate you stepping in."

Jey shrugged slightly, his guard still up but a hint of something softer in his expression. "Didn't seem right to let him get in your face like that," he muttered, his voice gruff but underlying concern evident in his tone.

You nodded in understanding, feeling a sense of camaraderie in the way Jey had backed you up. "Yeah, he's always been like that." You chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Always thinks he knows what's best for me."

Jey's lips twitched into a small smile, a glimmer of warmth breaking through his guarded demeanor. "Sounds familiar,"he replied cryptically, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

He shifted his weight slightly, glancing around the gym before his gaze settled back on you. "You good?"

You nodded, offering Jey a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks again." There was a brief moment of silence between the two of you, before Jey cleared his throat, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he spoke up. "Listen, I know I ain't been the most welcoming or talkative. Just... didn't feel like my place to get involved with your business. But.. I gotta ask you something."

You paused, curious about what Jey wanted to ask you. "Sure, what's up?" you replied, your tone inviting despite the underlying tension from the earlier confrontation with Kevin.

Jey hesitated for a moment, his guarded expression faltering slightly as he glanced away before meeting your gaze again. "Why you ain't text me back?"

You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "Why didn't I text you back?" You echoed, surprised by the sudden inquiry. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, unsure of how to respond to Jey's question. After a beat, you offered an honest answer, wanting to address his concern no matter how embarrassing it would be.

"It wasn't intentional, Jey," you began, your voice gentle as you met his gaze. "Everything happened so suddenly, and I needed time to myself. I didn't mean to ignore you or anyone else. And Seth... you know my boyfriend, right?" Jey nodded, and you continued, "He saw it and kind of got...don't laugh... jealous about you reaching out, so he asked me not to reply to anyone outside my close circle."

You chuckled nervously, feeling a bit embarrassed admitting it. A boyfriend shouldn't have an issue with you talking to whoever you wanted, but Seth wasn't a good boyfriend, as much as you didn't want to admit it. "I didn't want to make things worse by explaining, so I just... didn't respond to anyone. I'm sorry if I offended you."

Jey raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of understanding mixed with a hint of surprise. "Oh." Jey nodded slowly, processing your explanation, a small smile threatening to break out on his face. He aint even do anything yet your man was getting all jealous.

You spotted the smile and groaned, holding your hand in your face in embarrassment. "You said you wouldn't laugh!" you protested, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Jey chuckled lightly, the smile finally breaking through as he shook his head at the sight of you being bashful. " "I ain't laughin', I'm just... surprised. Seth really got jealous over that?" He shook his head in disbelief before looking back at you with a more serious expression.

You let go of your face and looked up at him, shrugging and Jey felt his heart hurt slightly when your smile was replaced with a frown at the memory of your relationship.

"It's okay, Y/N. You ain't gotta apologize. Don't worry about it. It's in the past." Jey reassured you, his tone gentle as he placed a hand on your shoulder briefly, a gesture of comfort. "I get it, you needed your space. I just wanted to know you were okay." Seth clearly wasn't a good guy if he was getting you all worked up like this, clearly not appreciating the literal goddess in his life that was you. Roman was right, Seth really was an idiot.

You offered Jey a grateful smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding. "Thanks, Jey. I appreciate that." Despite the earlier tension, you felt a certain warmth in this moment of connection with him.

Jey nodded, a small smile still playing on his lips before that guarded expression returned. "Anytime. Just... next time, let me know you're taking a break, yeah?" he said, a hint of playful teasing in his voice before his expression turned serious again. "I'll see you around."

With that, Jey nodded at you before walking away, leaving you to contemplate the unexpected exchange.

And now, you were getting ready to have another training session with him and hopefully break through his tough demeanor. As you were lacing up your sneakers, the door opened, and in popped in Becky Lynch. You smiled at the sight of one of your closest friends, who was also now the Raw Women's Champion- you couldn't be more proud of her.

But that smile dropped into a frown at the sight of her in near tears, and when her eyes locked onto yours, they seemed to fill with more emotion.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concerned as you stood up and walked over to her, opening up your arms to her for a hug.

Becky rushed into your arms, her body shaking slightly as she held onto you tightly, her voice muffled against your shoulder. "I-I can't tell you."

You furrowed your brow, concern deepening as you gently rubbed her back. "You can tell me anything, you know that." You brought the both of you to the couch and sat down, waiting for Becky to calm down enough to speak. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and looked at you with teary eyes.

"You're gonna hate me. God, you're so nice and understanding, and I'm about to ruin it." Becky wiped her tears, trying to steady her voice as she spoke.

"No, you're not." You tried to hug her again, offering reassurance. "Whatever it is, Becky, I won't hate you. Just tell me what's going on."

Becky pulled back slightly, her eyes locking onto yours, a mix of guilt and pain in her gaze. "Seth and I have been sneaking behind your back."

Your heart stopped and your mind went blank. You had a million thoughts rushing through your head, but you couldn't seem to process any of them. The silence lingered between you and Becky as the weight of her confession sank in.

"What?" Your voice turned cold but was barely above a whisper as you processed the words Becky had just confessed. It felt like the ground beneath you had crumbled, leaving you suspended in a state of disbelief.

Becky winced, her gaze filled with remorse and regret. "Yes, we've been seeing each other," Becky admitted, her voice wavering with guilt. "It started a while back. We didn't mean for it to happen, it just... did."

Your throat tightened, and you felt a surge of anger and hurt swirling within you. You had always supported Becky through anything and everything. When she needed someone, you were there for her, yet she betrayed your trust in the worst way possible. And she came in here and hugged you and tried to get your comfort when she was the one who caused you such pain.

It felt like a punch to the gut. You were used. You always gave too much and received betrayal in return. You pulled away from Becky, your expression a mix of shock, hurt, and anger.

"How long?" The question escaped your lips before you could stop it, your voice barely audible as you fought to maintain composure.

Becky sighed, her expression pained. "Please, don't make me hurt you even mo-"

"How. Long." Any traces of the kind, caring tone had vanished from your voice, replaced by an icy coldness that mirrored the betrayal and hurt you felt. Your eyes bore into Becky's, demanding an answer despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within you.

Becky sighed heavily, looking down as if unable to meet your gaze. "A few months. I'm so sorry, Y/N. We never meant to hurt you. It just... happened."

"You never meant to hurt me." you repeated, feeling a surge of disbelief and anger rising within you. "While I was dealing with everything, you and Seth... behind my back, and you never meant to hurt me!?" You shouted , your voice cracking with the weight of betrayal and hurt. The pain cut deep, and the sense of betrayal overwhelmed you.

Becky's eyes filled with more tears, her voice shaky as she tried to explain. "It was a mistake, Y/N. Please, I never wanted this to happen. I was just confused, and I know that's not an excuse, but I never wanted to hurt you."

You shook your head in disbelief, feeling anger and heartbreak intertwine within you. "You knew what I was going through. You knew how much I was struggling, and yet, you did this." Your voice wavered as you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the betrayal. "You came to me for comfort, you acted like nothing was wrong, and all the while... this was happening."

Becky reached out to you, her expression desperate and remorseful. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. Please, I never wanted to hurt you. You are so sweet and kind, I didn't want to tell you because I knew how much this would hurt you, so I thought keeping it to myself would solve that, but I couldn't live with the guilt." She waited for your answer, but when you didn't respond, Becky paused, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. "Please..."

You looked up at Becky, your vision clouded by a mixture of pain, anger, and betrayal. Her desperate plea for forgiveness echoed in your ears and fueled your anger. It was rare that you would get angry, because you couldn't control yourself when it happened, but this was an exception.

How dare she act sad when she 's the one who caused this pain? How could she deceive you like this?

You stood up from the couch, distancing yourself from Becky, your eyes red with anger. "You're right, I am sweet and kind." You got up and closed the door, making Becky's eyebrows furrow in concern.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

You ignored her and slowly made your way to her, and Becky could clearly see the anger in your usually sweet eyes. It was terrifying. She realized too late what you were about to do. "Maybe that should change. Right. Now."

Jey sucked his teeth in concern as he made his way down the hallway, checking his phone to see if you messaged him back. You were 20 minutes late, so naturally he got concerned and annoyed at the fact that you were late. Maybe you and Kevin got into another fight? The thought made him walk faster to your locker room.

As he approached the hallway it was in, he heard banging and raised voices and saw a crowd that was surrounding something. Immediately Jey realized it was your locker room and a knot formed in his stomach.

He quickly pushed through the crowd and saw you holding Becky by the hair and slamming her against the wall, anger etched deeply into your expression, and Seth trying and failing to separate the two of you.

"You're sorry, Becky!?" You screamed into her face, slamming her into the wall again, punching her over and over again, the anger clouding your judgement. Your nails digged into her skin, and tears streamed down Becky's face as she tried to shield herself from the blows.

Seth tried to intervene, but you grabbed him and slammed him onto the floor, hitting him low before going back to Becky. "The both of you mean nothing to me! Nothing!"

Jey's heart sank at the sight before him. He immediately rushed forward, trying to pry you away from Becky. The look on your face scared him. It was a side of you he had never seen before. "Y/N, stop! Stop it!"

You were consumed by rage, blinded by the betrayal and hurt that coursed through you. It took all of Jey's strength to pull you away from Becky, holding you back as you continued to struggle against his grip, your fists clenched, yearning to lash out again.

You tried to claw at Becky, grabbing her hair but Jey quickly grabbed your hands and restrained you, trying his best to calm you down and keep you from causing more harm. "Y/N, calm down! Please, calm down!"

Becky was visibly shaken, tears streaming down her face as she held her head, the impact against the wall still ringing in her ears. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Please, I never meant to hurt you."

Your adrenaline-fueled rage had consumed you, and you tried to fight off Jey, but he dragged the both of you away from the chaotic scene. He had to use all his strength to hold you back, your struggle showing no sign of ceasing. "Y/N, stop, it's enough! It's over!"

The commotion had attracted the attention of security, who swiftly arrived to help Jey calm the situation. They assisted in separating you from Becky and Seth, guiding each of you to different areas to diffuse the tension.

You were seething with anger and pain, your emotions swirling into a maelstrom that clouded your thoughts. Jey kept a firm grip on you, trying to talk you down. "Y/N, look at me. You need to breathe. You're not thinking straight."

You were too far gone to be responsive to Jey's words. All you could think of was Becky and Seth kissing each other, betraying your trust, and the way they had deceived you. The hurt was overwhelming, clouding any rational thought.

Jey continued to hold onto you, trying his best to calm your raging emotions. "Look at me."

You were shaking with anger and pain, your eyes blazing with an intensity that Jey had never seen before. He knew that trying to reason with you in this state would be futile, but he had to do something to snap you out of this anger-fueled haze.

He grabbed you and hauled you both into the nearest locker room and sat you down on the couch. You were shaking and tried to stand up to make a break for it, but Jey blocked the door, firmly keeping you inside. "Y/N, listen to me. You're not thinking clearly. You need to breathe and calm down."

You glared at Jey, your chest heaving with anger and hurt. "Let me go, Jey. I need to... I need to..."

"You need to calm down first," Jey interrupted, his voice firm but filled with concern. You tried to push past him, but he wouldn't budge.

Your hands trembled with rage, and you felt an overwhelming urge to lash out again, to confront Becky and Seth, to make them understand the pain they'd caused. But Jey's presence and his calming tone managed to break through the fog of your emotions, albeit slightly.

"You ain't going nowhere, Y/N. What you gon' do is sit ya pretty ass down and some deep breaths for me, drink some water, and try to calm yourself." Jey instructed, his voice commanding yet filled with genuine care.

"I can't calm down!" You shouted, the pain evident in your eyes as you tried to push him one last time, until he managed to gently restrain you, forcing you to sit back down on the couch.

Jey sat beside you, maintaining a firm yet comforting grip on your shoulders. "Yes, you can. Take deep breaths with me, okay? In... and out." He demonstrated the rhythm, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, encouraging you to follow suit.

"B-but they-"

Jey gently interrupted you with a reassuring tone. "They ain't worth your peace, Y/N. Right now, you need to focus on you. I know it hurts, but you can't let them see you break. They ain't worth it. You are worth more than that."

You took in a shaky breath, trying to emulate Jey's breathing pattern. Inhaling deeply, you closed your eyes and attempted to regain control over your emotions. Gradually, your breathing began to steady, the adrenaline slowly subsiding.

"That's it." Jey encouraged softly, noticing your attempts to calm down. "Keep breathing. You're doing great." Whenever the anger seemed to rise again, Jey would gently remind you to focus on your breath, guiding you through the calming exercise until your breathing regulated, and the storm of emotions began to ebb away, leaving behind a heavy, lingering ache.

As the initial shock and fury lessened, tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Jey sensed the shift in your emotions and pulled you into a comforting hug. "It's okay, Y/N. Let it out. You've been through a lot."

You clung to Jey, the dam finally breaking as you sobbed, the weight of betrayal and hurt cascading out of you. Jey held you close, providing a steady presence and a comforting embrace as you allowed the flood of emotions to pour out.

"T-They fucking went behind my back," you choked out between sobs, your voice raw with pain and betrayal. "I trusted them, Jey. I trusted them with everything."

Jey rubbed your back soothingly, offering silent support as you let out the pent-up emotions as he tried to not get angry himself. He would defiantly be beating Seth's ass after this. "I know, Y/N. I know," he murmured gently, his voice filled with empathy.

After what felt like an eternity, your tears eventually subsided into soft sniffles. Jey released you from the hug but kept a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You did good, calming down like that," he commended softly.

You nodded, feeling emotionally drained but slightly more composed. "Thank you, Jey," you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that." You had an embarrassed expression, feeling a mix of shame and gratitude for Jey's support. "Now you know why I usually try to not get angry, cause I'm scared of what it can make me do."

Jey gently shook his head, offering a comforting smile. "Nah, don't apologize. I get it. You honestly reacted better than I would have."

At your hearty chuckle, Jey smiled warmly. "Hey, I'm being serious. If that were me, I'd probably have caused more damage." He chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension. "But seriously, you did good by calming down. Shows strength."

"Yeah right," You retorted, grabbing the drink from Jey's hand and taking a long sip, grateful for the hydration after the emotional turmoil. "I felt like I was losing it back there."

"That's not a bad thing, y'know?" At your quizzical gaze, Jey continued. "Feeling your emotions, letting 'em out, that's normal. And I know you usually like to be the sweetest person in the room, but that's also letting people walk all over you."

Jey paused, choosing his words carefully. "Jimmy is the same way, y'know? He is the kindest soul, but sometimes folks take advantage of that. You gotta find the balance, Y/N. If you wanna be in the Bloodline, you can't let nobody mess with you. You gotta let your inner rage out, otherwise ain't nobody gonna respect you or see you as an equal."

You sighed, capping the water bottle and nodding slowly at Jey's words. "Yeah, I know. It's just... it's hard to find that balance sometimes. I don't want to hurt people, you know? I try to be understanding and kind, but then things like this happen." You glanced away, still processing the whirlwind of emotions.

"I know you don't," Jey reassured, patting your shoulder gently. "But sometimes, folks need to see that you ain't to be messed with. It's about respect, and right now, you need to focus on you."

You nodded, knowing he was right. You always tried to be the peacekeeper, but it was more of a weakness than a strength. "You're right, but when I get mad I tend to lose control. That's why I try to not get angry. I don't want to hurt anyone."

Jey gave you a sympathetic and understanding look. "I get it. But you gotta stop being this goody two-shoes all the time. It's eating you up inside. You gotta learn to stand up for yourself and let people know when they cross the line. That anger? You gotta embrace it cause it's a part of you.

You sighed, feeling torn between your innate nature and the advice Jey was offering. "I'll try, Jey. But it's hard. I don't want to become someone I'm not."

"You won't. I won't let you." You blinked at the kindness and conviction in Jey's tone. "I know I haven't been the most welcoming person, but that's cause I have trouble opening up to people. But I see you, Y/N. I see how much you care, how much you try. How you are loyal to the core." Jey paused, his expression softening. "And I know you'll be loyal to the Bloodline, right?"

You didn't hesitate to nod in response. "Of course, Jey. Always." Despite the whirlwind of emotions, your loyalty was unwavering. "I appreciate you opening up to me, and I can promise you that I won't betray that trust."

Jey smiled, satisfied with your response. "Good. I need you to be loyal, because... I really like having you around. But I can't have you 'round if you ain't loyal to the family. And I know you and K.O got some history..."

"That's in the past." You interjected, trying to dismiss any concerns Jey might have. "Kevin and I have our differences, but I am done with him and anyone else that is a problem for us. I promise you." You gently laid a hand on Jey's arm, reassuring him of your commitment.

Jey stayed silent for a moment, staring at you as if he could see inside your soul, seeing if your words held true. After a moment, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Okay. But it ain't up to me if that's true, it's up to the chief." You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before his phone dinged and he glanced at the notification.

"It's the Chief, he wants to see you." Jey pocketed his phone before holding out his hand to you, helping you stand up from the couch.

You nodded, accepting Jey's assistance as you stood up, feeling a little more composed than earlier.

"Thanks, Jey. Walk me to him?" You asked, feeling a bit more confident asking considering he told you he likes you now. Jey gave you an affirming nod. "Sure thing. Let's go."

As the two of you walked through the corridors, Jey kept a close eye on you, making sure you were holding up okay after the intense emotional outburst.

When you reached Roman's office, before you grabbed the door handle, Jey grabbed your hand and spoke in a hushed tone, his voice serious yet supportive. His hand felt soft and comforting as he gripped yours gently. "Y/N, I got your back. Just be honest with the Chief, alright? He can see through lies. Just tell him what happened."

You met Jey's gaze, appreciating the sincerity in his eyes. "I will, Jey. Thank you, really." With a deep breath, you nodded to signal that you were ready to face Roman. Jey gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it, standing back as you opened the door and entered Roman's office.

Roman glanced up from his desk, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern as he noticed your state. "Y/N, come in." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Care to tell me what happened?"

You internally winced at Roman's tone. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts before speaking. "It's Becky and Seth, Chief." Your voice wavered slightly as the flood of emotions threatened to resurface. "They've been... they've been sneaking around, behind my back. And I just exploded."

Roman's brow furrowed as he observed your demeanor, his expression turning serious. "Explain."

You recounted the events that had unfolded, detailing Becky's confession and the subsequent emotional turmoil you'd experienced. Roman listened attentively, his expression unreadable as he took in every word you spoke.

"And you lost control," Roman summarized, his tone stern yet controlled.

You nodded, feeling a sense of guilt for having lost your composure. "Yes, Chief. I'm sorry, I just... I couldn't handle it."

"No, you handled it perfectly." You furrowed your brow in confusion at Roman's unexpected response.

"Look, I am sorry for the emotional turmoil you are experiencing right now, make no mistake about it." Roman clarified, his tone softer now. "But this angry, out of control, fiery and real version of you is what I wanted out of you. What I am working to get out of you. Not the meek and docile version. That version isn't strong, it's weak. I want you to be strong. I need you to be strong."

Roman leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. "I told you that I wanted you to join the Bloodline because I needed someone to be loyal, strong, and willing to stand their ground. You proved that today. I didn't ask you to join for a moment. I didn't ask you to join because I thought you were just going to be another face in the group. I asked you to join because I saw something in you. And what I saw today? That's what I've been waiting for."

You were taken aback by Roman's words, his perspective catching you off guard. You expected reprimand, not validation for your display of raw emotion. "Though attacking without running it by me is not the usual protocol, I appreciate the fire in you, Y/N. Loyalty and strength are the cornerstones of the Bloodline. Today is an exception."

Roman leaned forward, his gaze intense as he met your eyes. "But you won't do that again without my permission, you understand me?"

You nodded quickly, Roman's tone making the gravity of the situation clear. Yes, Chief. I won't let it happen again without your say-so."

Roman leaned back, his expression shifting to a more contemplative one. "Now, as for Becky and Seth..." He paused, his gaze piercing through you. "They've made their bed. But that doesn't mean we let this slide."

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of trepidation and curiosity about what Roman might do next. "What do you want me to do?"

Roman leaned forward again, his tone low but firm. "Remember the test of loyalty, Y/N?" Roman's voice was a low rumble, filled with authority. "This is yours. I want you to observe them. Gain their trust. Make them believe everything is fine, that you've forgiven them."

Your eyes widened slightly at the magnitude of the task. It was a test of your loyalty and acting skills. "But Chief, I'm not sure I can do that. After what they did..."

Roman's gaze hardened, his voice brooking no argument. "This is a test, Y/N. You wanted to be part of the Bloodline, and this is what it entails. I need to know you're capable of playing the game when needed. You don't have to forgive them. You don't even have to mean a word of what you say to them. But you'll do it for the family. Understood?"

You nodded, albeit reluctantly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Yes, Chief. I'll do it."

Roman leaned forward again, his tone low but firm. "I want you to show them where their place is in the hierarchy of the Bloodline. They've disrespected you and the family. At Elimination Chamber, I need you to take that title from Becky. Make her think it's a non-personal rivalry, make her believe she's going up against just another challenger. But I want you to make it personal. Show her the consequence of betrayal. Show her what happens when you mess with us. Mess with you, my right hand woman."

You wanted to argue with him, but the taste of revenge was bittersweet on your tongue. However, you couldn't deny the commanding presence of Roman's orders. "I understand, Chief. I'll make sure to handle it."

"Good." Roman's tone softened slightly. "I want that title, Y/N. That title belongs with us, with the Bloodline. Show Becky why betraying the family has consequences. Make her feel it. And remember, this is only the beginning of your test."

You shot Roman a confused look. "What do you mean, Chief?"

Roman leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady as he regarded you. "Becky and Seth crossed a line, and their actions won't go unpunished. Jey will handle Seth at Elimination Chamber as well as the other competitors- Kevin, Sami, Daniel Bryan and Cesaro."

Roman gave you a knowing look when he mentioned your two former best friends. It seemed Roman had devised a plan, a grander scheme beyond just your personal feud. "But at the end of Elimination Chamber, you will understand what I mean. You will begin to see the bigger picture. This is your initiation into the family, and it starts with showing your loyalty and strength. Do you understand?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of Roman's words and the task he had assigned you. "Yes, Chief. I'll do what needs to be done."

Roman seemed satisfied with your response. "Good. I trust you'll handle this accordingly." He leaned back in his chair, signaling the end of your conversation. "I know you have a big heart. But trust me, this isn't about revenge. This is about power and control. This is about securing our dominance in this business. There are no good guys or bad guys, there are just humans who have been betrayed and those who betrayed. And sometimes you have to hurt before you get justice."

Roman's words echoed in your mind, leaving a sense of determination mingled with the weight of the task ahead. He was right. You need to be focused on what's best for you instead of what you think is right. Morals had no high ground here, only the will to survive and dominate. And you wanted to dominate.

"Thank you, Chief. I won't let you down," you replied, steeling yourself for the challenges that lay ahead.

Roman nodded in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable yet reassuring. "You're dismissed, Y/N. Focus on what you need to do. The family comes first."

With a nod, you rose from the chair, feeling a mix of determination and apprehension about the tasks ahead. You left Roman's office, the weight of his instructions heavy on your shoulders.

As you exited Roman's office, Jey caught your eye, and you shared a brief glance. He approached you, a serious yet supportive look in his eyes. "You good?"

You nodded, albeit with a hint of uncertainty. "Yeah, I'll manage."

Jey placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, offering you a reassuring smile. "You got this, Y/N. Just remember, do what you gotta do. Roman's got a plan. He's doing this for the family. The Bloodline. For you. You have to do whatever he asked of you. You have to obey, or you'll get hurt. I can't let you get hurt." It seemed like Jey didn't plan on saying the last sentence out, but he didn't waver. Instead he paused, gauging your reaction.

You nodded, acknowledging Jey's advice, and reciprocated with a grateful expression. "Thanks, Jey. I appreciate it, appreciate you." You thought of hugging him, but decided against it, not wanting to make Jey uncomfortable.

Instead, you gave Jey a thankful nod and a small smile.

Jey patted your shoulder once more before stepping back. You're welcome. Take care of yourself, alright? I'll see you tomorrow, we can grab some food. Lord knows you need it, I haven't seen you eat any snacks at the back." Jey joked lightly, trying to lift your spirits.

You chuckled softly, grateful for Jey's attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll try not to starve, Jey. Thanks for looking out for me."

He gave you a playful nod before stepping back, letting you proceed on your path. "Of course. See you tomorrow, girl."

As walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The weight of Roman's orders and the task at hand lay heavy on your mind. The idea of deceiving Becky and Seth, all the while planning your revenge, felt conflicting. But you knew what was at stake - your loyalty to the Bloodline and the need to assert your place within it. Could you really act like everything was fine when, in reality, you were seething with anger and hurt?

You spotted Becky about to leave, and decided you could.

"Hey, Becky!" She looked up at her name being called, and you approached her with a composed demeanor, despite the turmoil within you. She seemed scared when you came closer to her, as if expecting you to physically lash out again. However, you maintained your calm, albeit somewhat strained, composure.

"Hey, Y/N," Becky greeted cautiously, her voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a deep breath, trying to mask the storm of emotions brewing inside you. "I just wanted to say that I appreciate your honesty earlier. It took a lot of courage to confess." The words felt hollow leaving your lips, but you knew this was part of the task Roman had assigned.

Becky looked surprised by your response, her eyes darting with uncertainty. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. It's eating me up inside."

You gave her a small, forced smile. "I understand, Becky. I was angry earlier, but I took some time to calm down, and I realized that I appreciate you coming clean."

Your voice sounded composed, almost unnaturally so, as you forced yourself to maintain a calm façade. "Is Seth okay? I hit him when I was angry."

Becky seemed taken aback by your composed demeanor, but she nodded, trying to hide her surprise. "He's fine. Just a little shaken up, but he'll be okay." She paused, studying your face for any signs of the anger she had witnessed earlier. "Are you... okay, Y/N?"

You nodded, masking your true emotions behind a façade of calmness. "I'm fine, Becky. Just needed some time to cool off." The words felt like a lie, but you knew you had to play your part in this act.

"I am hurt, but you are one of my closest friends, and I don't want out friendship to end like this, Becks." You forced a smile, hoping it appeared genuine.

Becky's expression softened with a hint of relief. "I'm really sorry, Y/N. I hope we can work through this somehow. I hate that I hurt you."

You nodded, trying to maintain the charade of forgiveness. "I'm sure we'll figure something out. How about I ride with you to the next show tonight? We can talk more then, if you want."

Becky looked surprised at your offer, clearly not expecting this response. "Uh, yeah, sure. That would be great, actually."

You nodded, trying to hide the turmoil within you as you made plans to continue this act. "Alright then, lemme grab my stuff and we'll be on our way." You tried to keep your tone neutral, not wanting to reveal the depths of your true feelings.

Before you left, you walked closer to Becky and wrapped her in a tight but short hug, trying to appear as if everything was normal. "I'll see you outside in a bit, okay?"

Becky returned the hug tentatively, still wary after the earlier altercation. "Yeah, see you."

With that, you turned away, your façade slipping for a moment as you clenched your fists in frustration and pain. Unbeknownst to you, Paul was lurking in the shadows, reporting to Roman and making sure you weren't acting out of line.

"Everything's going to plan, my Tribal Chief."

Roman responded after a couple of seconds, smirking to himself as he laid back in his chair.

"Good. I knew she could do it. Becky and Seth are first, Sami is a non-variable, and mark my words, Kevin is next.

Do you think she can follow through with our plan at Elimination Chamber, my tribal chief? Becky is one thing, Kevin is another.

A flurry of bubbles appeared on Paul's phone for a moment before Roman replied, his message filled with unwavering confidence.

"She will. Don't doubt your Tribal Chief. Y/N might have a big heart, but she knows where her loyalty lies. And soon, everyone will understand what happens when you cross the Bloodline."

And soon they will.

352 notes · View notes

charliehoennam · 4 months

Text

beyond the badge pt. 1

a/n: request made by @harmonity-vibes. had been thinking about this specific plot for a long time and this lovely angel gave me the inspiration i needed. this will divided into three parts because it's simply too big lmao that's what she said. s/o to @strangergraphics-archive for the cute divider <3

pairing: david loki x f!reader

summary: his fianceé is abducted and a distraught david realizes some rules must be broken in order to save the one he loves.

warnings: 18+, dark themes such as language, violence, eventual smut, suicide, death, physical injuries, threats, abuse of power and blood.

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

two | three | four | five

What was once a home filled with love, laughter and passionate moans is now hollow and empty.

The haunting silence of the house only fuels his self-hatred. He can’t stop blaming himself because he knows, deep inside, that he could’ve avoided all this mess if he had only listened to you.

When a dead body showed up in the river by the old mill, David was quickly assigned the case. It might have taken him a couple of months, but he successfully found the man responsible for a such a horrendous crime.

The man was Frankie Donovan, a bus driver and self-made drug dealer. You would’ve never guessed by simply looking at the man, due to his scruffy appearance and uneducated demeanor, but he had successfully made around 500 thousand dollars from producing and selling meth.

It might not have been much to some people, but to a man who grew on the country skirts of Conyers, bouncing around from trailer park to trailer park and addict parents, that money was more precious to him than his own life.

No one would’ve believed that Donovan was capable of making so much money. Most people underestimated him either because of his job, his poor background or, what appeared to seem like, his friendly nature. He might have fooled many, but not David.

In the empty house that belongs to both of you, David stands in front of the foggy bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped his hip.

He stares at his stoic reflection and takes in the physical effects your absence has had on him. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Hollowed cheeks from the loss of appetite. The prickly 5 o’clock shadow growing out that he refuses to waste time shaving.

The lingering heat from his hot shower constricts the air around him. He leans down to splash some cold water on his face, hoping that it will provide just a little bit of relief. Although the water soothes him on the surface, it fails to subdue him within.

He runs a trembling hand over his face to try and keep his composure, but he’s losing it. His breath shortens as the room spins around him. What feels like rocks settle in his throat. His chest tightens with rage until he finally explodes and punches the mirror before him repeatedly.

“It’s your fucking fault!” he repeatedly shouts at himself.

Dangerous shards shatter into the sink and onto the counter. David doesn’t feel it just yet, but blood drips from his knuckles over the shards. He takes a look at his hand. His fit of fury let out a bit of the steam that he had pent up inside him, but it’s not enough to make him better.

Nothing will make him feel better until you’re home, safe and sound. He promised he would always keep you safe and he feels like he failed you. There's nothing that can silence that thought in his mind.

Once he’s poorly rinsed and wrapped his knuckles with gauze to stop the bleeding, he drags himself into the bedroom that lingers with the scent of you and haphazardly chooses a few items of clothing. He doesn’t bother with the usual button-up shirt. A simple black thermal, a pair of pants and usual boxers. He tries to get dressed as fast as he can.

David hates being in the house for too long, but he tries to avoid the bedroom as much as he can. Not only does everything there remind him of you, but it’s all still the same as you left it before you went to work that day and he wants to keep it that way.

The uncertainty of the future fucking terrifies him. He doesn’t know if you’re alive, he doesn’t know if you’re hurt. His colleagues are doing their best to find you, but the fear he secretly has of you not coming home is ever present. So, he keeps the bedroom the way you left it to create a false sensation that you’re somehow still there almost like a ghost. Like you're still coming home, even though he's not sure you will.

It’s been almost two days since you’ve been missing. The captain made it very clear to David that he could not, under any circumstances, take the case due to his close relationship to the victim. Being off your case drives him insane, but it’s not enough to make him stop looking for you.

He might not be able to professionally investigate, but it doesn't stop him from questioning the local thugs in the neighborhood about the recent kidnapping. After coming to a dead-end last night, he spent the rest of the night driving aimlessly, hoping he might find you somewhere.

He came home for a quick shower before resuming his illegal search for you. He’s tired beyond belief, but his mind can’t concentrate on anything else besides his missing fianceé.

Sat on the edge of the bed you used to share, he looks over at the engagement ring still sealed in a plastic baggie on your nightstand and reaches over to hold it in his hands. Letting his head hang low, he lifts his bloodied hand and holds his forehead in it. His head pounds as memories flood his thoughts.

When a call about an abduction came in from a co-worker of yours, David could feel his heart sink down to his stomach. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the thought that you could’ve been the one kidnapped scared him to death.

He is in another town, a more populated, small and neighboring town who’s courthouse Conyers was appointed to. David hadn’t been aware of the newly opened case until he made it back to his car and saw 3 missed calls from his captain.

When he arrives at your workplace’s parking lot, he climbs out of his car so quickly that he doesn’t even remember to close the door to take the keys out of the ignition. It all feels like a dream, like nothing is real, everything around his is far from touch and he’s floating through the air

“Tell me it’s not her,” he begs already fearing the worst as he marches towards the blockade of police officers preserving the scene.

“Loki, I’m sorry, but you can’t be here right now. I can’t let you through.”

O’Malley has to hold him up as David’s knees give in and sits him on the curb. Kneeling in front of him, he instructs David to breathe as the air thickens in his throat.

“I-I gotta find her, captain. I gotta-“

“What you gotta do is let us do our job, Loki. You can’t work on this case and you know why. Tell me what you know.”

The truth, at the time where he can barely remember his own name, is that he doesn’t know who could have taken you. He’d put away so many bad guys already and, just like the Keller-Birch case, kidnapping were becoming more and more often in the small town of Conyers.

David is in no condition to answer most of the questions that his boss needed to ask. At least, not right there.

“David, let’s go back to the station. We can talk better there.”

“No. I’m not fucking leave. I need to be here. I need to find her!” he insists, wide eyes locked on the scene as the forensic investigators search the area.

His watchful eye notices one of the investigators lift something up from the ground after taking pictures of the object. As the woman places the small item into a plastic bad to preserve for DNA or prints, he quickly stands on his feet. Despite the dizziness that strikes him suddenly, he pushes his way through the uniformed cops, but there are too many of them to hold him back from the scene.

“Get the fuck of- Let me go! That’s her ring! That’s my fianceé’s fucking ring!” he shouts at the investigator while being restrained.

She looks at O’Malley who nods and allows her to show David the evidence. Walking towards David, he finally calms down enough and complies in order to make sure it is yours. And, just as he fears, it is indeed yours.

His hands tremble as he looks at the plastic evidence baggie containing your engagement ring. He closes his eyes as dread floods his chest.

The ring is technically evidence and is actually supposed with the forensics team to process, but David stole it from the scene to bring it home with him.

Tears drip against the plastic. He just wants you to come home.

The buzzing cellphone he'd left on your nightstand snaps him back to the present. Quickly wiping his tired blue eyes, he looks over at the phone placed beside his gun and badge. The thought of taking his weapon to his head to end the agonizing pain and guilty flashes in his mind.

Before he finds the courage to reach for the firearm, his gaze drifts and lands on a book you had been reading when you were home and he recalls one specific conversation you had had one night.

“You got a strange call today on the landline.”

You’re sat on the bed with your back against the headboard and a book in hand.

“Yeah? What’d they say?” he asks lying tiredly on the bed beside you.

Lifting your arm to make way for him, he nestles himself into your side with his strong arms locked around your hips while his face nuzzles into your waist with closed tired eyes.

“I dunno. I mean, I do, but it was just strange,” you lower your book, combing the fingers of your free hand into his luscious brown hair. “The guy just said told you to call him back or you’d regret it.”

“Probably just a prank call, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about.”

“But they asked for you. They said your full name and they know you’re a detective. Isn’t that a bit too personal?”

“I’m a cop, babe. That information is public. Anyone can find that out if you know where to look.”

You nod and stay silent as you try to continue reading, but it’s unsettling.

“I’m just saying,” you start as David groans tiredly. “Why would someone call and threaten you? Not to mention you just recently closed the Donovan case.”

Rolling over onto his back, he looks up at you from his side of the bed.

“Babe, Donovan is a small-town meth head. He doesn’t have the balls to come after a cop.”

“It’s just a strong coincidence, David.”

A lightbulb goes in his mind. Finally, a lead he could work on. How the hell didn’t he think about this before?

He shoots up onto his feet to get dressed and, just after he slides his boxer briefs on, his phone buzzes again with another incoming text.

Due to his close relationship with you, O’Malley didn’t allow him to take the lead on the case. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but he knows the close relationship could impair David’s judgment. David’s already known for his temper and the last thing he needs is him risking the case because he didn’t follow procedure.

Instead, Chemelinski’s been assigned as the lead detective on the case. And, influenced by their close friendship, he’s ignored the direct and important order O’Malley had given him of keeping any new information from David.

The way he sees it, David’s a smart detective. If it hadn’t been for the close relationship, the case would’ve been his because he’s the only one that has solved and closed difficult disappearance cases like this.

“Evidence found at Penn Aire Motel, 46th and western. No vics”

“Didn’t hear this from me”

He wastes no time replying to his co-worker’s texts. His heart pounds with hope and adrenaline as his mind races with a thousand thoughts, wondering what kind of evidence they found. Even without a body or blood, assumptions can still be made based on the scene which is why he needs to be there.

Speeding in his car, his stomach churns contemplating what he might find once he’s there. He knows the procedure in case of dead victims. If you were dead, he would’ve already heard about it, so he’s hopeful it’s not the case.

As his car pulls up, O’Malley sighs already feeling the heavy headache setting in of having to deal with a distraught David.

“Who the hell told him?”

Chemelinski shrugs avoiding his accusing eyes, but mutters it wasn’t him as David quickly marches over to the captain, ducking under the yellow ‘do not cross’ tape with curious eyes scanning the scene to understand what’s going on.

“Loki, I told you-“

“I know, I’m off it. I know, I just wanna know what you found.”

David keeps a strong facade with hands up in surrender as O’Malley approaches him.

“You know I can’t share that information with you. You’re involved with the victim and it ca-“

“Yeah, I fucking know it can cloud my judgement! I know!” he shouts back.

O’Malley watches him take a deep breath to compose himself. He understands how stressful this is, especially for a detective.

“Captain, I-I’m losing my fucking mind. Please, j-just tell me something. I-I need something.”

He can’t ignore David’s pleading blue eyes or the crack in his voice. David’s a strong man who’s endured some of the most awful things life could throw at anyone. It takes a lot to scare him to this point.

He informs David that they’d tracked down the car from the location of your kidnapping. After identifying the vehicle with the help of local security surveillance footage, a dispatcher had ID’d it after receiving a call about an abandoned car in a rundown motel parking lot, just off the freeway.

No one saw you at the motel; the clerk working the desk that night said a man checked in alone, but a maid who had been getting off her shift mentioned she saw the man – who was staying in the room in question – putting something in the trunk of a different car before driving away in it alone.

The forensic investigation is still processing the scene, but the unit was able to find a small earring in the truck of the car, which was now in a small plastic bag labeled evidence in O’Malley’s hands.

O’Malley would’ve asked him if the earring was familiar, but the way David froze and stared down at the small accessory with swelling tears in his eyes is enough to confirm his belief.

He’d given you the beautiful jewel on your first anniversary. He remembers how happy you got when you opened the gift and saw the sparking, delicate pair in the small velvet box. His heart broke a little when you mentioned no one had ever given you jewelry before. You loved them so much that you wore them proudly every day to work.

He never thought he’d be the one having to identify a personal item of a victim.

“Y-yeah,” he sniffles blinking away his tears. “That’s hers.”

“We’re gonna find her, Loki. Loki!”

David can’t stand it anymore. The ring found at the site of the kidnapping and the newly discovered earring leads him to believe they weren’t left there on accident. He knows these are items you treasure more than anything and you would never take them off unless you were at home to avoid the risk of losing your precious accessories due to their sentimental value.

They’re breadcrumbs. They’re clues you’re leaving behind, calling out for him to save you. He needs to take matters into his hands.

#david loki #david loki x reader #david loki x you #david loki x y/n #detective david loki #david loki fic #david loki imagine #david loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #prisoners #prisoners fic #prisoners imagine #david loki prisoners #prisoners fanfiction

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defrosted69 · 12 days

Text

MY Laker Star 3.5 (Huh Yunjin)

Okay this was a request from @dav1233555 that took way, WAY too long so sorry about that lol. also, this preety much answers what had happened why our mc went from Lesserafim to New Jeans

heads up, Its angsty enjoy

Yunjin moved away from the window glass, watching the sight below her as her feet landed in the elevator. The elevator only kept her busy with her palm on the button because the stillness was so deafening. Her mind keeps replaying the memories till it deafens her. She repressed her tears, feeling the anger in her heart grow stronger. She had just watched her own happiness be chosen by someone else, and she didn't want to cry.

She was aware that all she was doing was convincing herself that your heart was with her. She wanted to think that there was love between you and her, therefore she disregarded the indicators that were in front of her face.

Perhaps there was once love between

Or was it just nostalgic love.

She hurried out of the elevator as soon as the door opened, not even caring that she was drawing stares. Her plate was already piled high with the issues facing both her own group and herself. Right now, all she needed was a safe haven where she could be herself without fear of judgment. However, there is a cost associated with celebrity.

She instinctively followed her legs to the women's restroom, where she noticed her own reflection. Her tears had dried up and formed their own consciousness, cascading down like waterfalls and making her wonder how much of her life she can still manage.

"Shit..."

The only term that could adequately characterize her current state of mind was a quiet growl. She got the impression that her life was being held back by her own transgressions, and that everything she had done up to that point had only made things worse. She was alone with herself, everything was going wrong, and it was suffocating.

Since everyone was against her, she had no one to turn to as her own barricade. There was that performance that everyone chose to pick apart and felt would shatter their self-esteem. Their defenses crumbled and their reputation was damaged. Even their own admirers doubt their ability to be idols. Everything went south after that, causing a ruckus throughout the Kpop business.

When they could not demonstrate why the Silver spoon should have been placed on an idol in the first place, people started to wonder what use it served. People started to wonder if the idols of this new generation had not experienced the same hardships as their predecessors in order to retain the motivation to keep improving and honing their profession. People started to wonder who created and who was merely handed the Silver spoons as more and more organizations appeared around..

As a performer herself, it was a major gut punch for her because, even though you are a performer, having your confidence in yourself undermined by being asked if you are truly one. It's exhausting to consider how many more people joined in to criticize you and how they nitpick all your mistakes.

While the fire was raging fiercely, they were placed on hold and forced into the basement to hide. Although their company made every effort to reduce the heat, the power of the media served as fuel to fan the flames. There are articles popping up everywhere, most of which have no connection whatsoever to the primary issue. And people change sides so quickly.

From loving them to turning against them.

From praising them to bad mouthing them.

From being loved, to being hated.

From their perspective, everything they do is flawed, and their words have lost significance. Nothing about them seems right to them.

When Yunjin looked in the mirror, she could no longer see the girl who had such a deep love for both her followers and herself. Standing in front of the mirror served as a depressing reminder of the frail girl she really was—a girl who tries her hardest to improve but is never successful.

She opened the faucet and used water to clean her face, giving her hands a slight shudder. She detested seeing the shattered and sad girl in her reflection as he rubbed water over her face.

"Why... Why.. Why..."

She repeatedly cleansed and massaged her face, but no matter how many times she does so, nothing will be able to erase the anguish that is written all over her face because all she can do is let the tears fall. She can't get that grimace off her face no matter what she does.

Making sure there would be no disturbance in this room, she wept quietly by herself in the restroom. She wanted to make sure that her personal issues didn't need to disturb others. Ultimately, this was her own issue to resolve.

She allowed her eyes to speak for a few minutes before covering her identity and the inner turmoil she was experiencing with a mask and baseball cap. She wanted to spend some alone time with herself, but as soon as she left the room, she observed that you and Haerin were holding hands and laughing joyously.

Yunjin could tell you were happy with her because of the contented and cheerful smile on her face. Upon witnessing the person who brought her joy turn into someone else's happiness, her heart broke into a million pieces.

She feels so hurt by your happiness since it seems like all of your shared memories have vanished from her life. She hurried out of the building, looking down while clutching her headgear. She walked aside, her eyes containing another flood of tears as all she could see was the harsh concrete. She continues to feel so unwelcome in this world with every step she takes.

She did not realize it, though, that she had arrived at the park. The trees were gently swaying in the breeze. People chatting, laughing, and taking in their surroundings. She was undoubtedly in the city park.

She takes a seat beneath a wooden bench and closes her eyes, allowing her heart's story to be revealed by her recollections of the past.

FLASHBACK: A FEW MONTHS AGO

"That's right Y/N. It's not just me who's in love with you..."

As Yunjin was speaking, Kazuha was informed of his direct messages. Yunjin was already aware that she and the other members of her band had grown fond of you. particularly Kazuha. She was the first to express admiration for you, after all.

She therefore didn't want to seem conceited and ignore her friend and bandmate. Even if Kazuha is already in love with you, she preferred for her to give you a chance. She was open to letting Kazuha have fun while she was with you.

Since everyone in her group outperformed her in every category, she was already coming to terms with the possibility that she would not even be chosen. Yunjin isn't as flexible or cute as Kazuha or Chaewon. Each of them has an incredible quality, such as her only being able to express her feelings for you in the past.

She called it a trader of nostalgia. Her only tool for winning you over is that, and even she admits that using such tactics was quite pitiful. However, all of her memories of you are in the past, and that's all she has to hold to.

To her surprise, though, you quickly pierced her heart with a lightning bolt as you closed your phone and gripped her hand. Her pulse was pounding and swaying to the same tune—love—that she was unable to control.

"Yunjin. I don't need anyone else but you."

Yunjin was the happiest woman alive after hearing those words alone. She was living out her daydream. She never would have imagined that the story would become true. She wishes she could stop waking up if she was asleep and dreaming right now.

Nothing but herself could sense the love and real delight in her eyes. She was a young woman who was madly in love. She ran to put an end to her feelings and rushed to put her arm around you.

"R-Really? You mean it?"

"Yes. I mean it."

She had enough to rejoice over the realization of her dream with just few words. You chose to step back and offer her a smile that said a thousand words when you were both singing songs of love. And you observed that there was still some time left before nightfall and that the sky hadn't yet grown really dark.

So you set up your official date, hoping to see her grin even more and maintain it throughout the day.

"Let's go on a date."

"Eh? But it's getting dark and-"

"Don't worry about it. I got this. After all, I want to see that smile of yours further Yunjin."

Your remarks made her even redder, if she wasn't already. She was surprised to learn that your flirtatious behavior wasn't all bluster. She gains even more points because the guy she previously thought of had a flirtatious side.

"Alright. Lead the way"

You seized her hand and hurried across the crowded Los Angeles streets without even waiting a second. Yujin could only look at you because it seemed like everyone was commenting on the two of you.

It's been stated that when you're with someone you love, everything stops. It's been stated that when you love someone, everything else fades away and your attention is solely focused on them.

That's what Yunjin was feeling right now.

One youngster in particular sticks out among the throng of people; he was the one holding her hand and grinning lovingly at her. Yunjin experienced a feeling of being pampered like a princess, and everything seemed like something out of a fairytale.

Their feet stopped at a place you were both familiar with, laughing filling their ears. When they both walked into the restaurant, Yunjin's smile never faded.

With you visible to the staff's eyes, they immediately all smiled as they know what they should know.

"You seem known here Y/N."

"It's my favorite go to restaurant. They make the best food around here in downtown LA."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The staff greeted you like you were one of their own employees, and you both laughed. She found that incident to be quite touching because it gave her the impression that you were loved and revered not only for your basketball prowess but also for your enormously compassionate heart.

She was happy that it was paying off since she knew you were always polite and that it was in your nature to be friends with everyone.

She was a little uncomfortable to be asked who she was because she didn't know what to say. She was getting ready to be referred to as just a friend in front of everyone because she was still a little surprised that she was already your girlfriend.

"She's my girlfriend."

Well throw that out the window and call her beloved because with your announcement just made her land into the clouds of nine. Your smile only topped up her dreams as she wished to melt right now at the spot.

And it continued further when the staff of the restaurant treated the place like their own world. They reserved a seat just for the two of them and even added candles to add to the romantic ambience.

"They didn't have to go all out."

"Trust me Jen, I didn't know it too."

Their hearts were so satisfied with each other that they laughed together. Yunjin thought that everything was too good to be true, and she didn't want the day to end. However, it was evident from her indicators that today was indeed a great day.

She was reminded of their earlier days of simply enjoying each other's company while eating and conversing about uninteresting topics by the meal that was given to them. She appreciates the small things about you, and she's happy that they haven't changed over time.

After dinner, there was just one more location to show her. You took her hand and led her to a spot overlooking the city without saying a word. a place you learned about while out on your own at night. There were innumerable evenings when you believed no one would ever understand you and you felt alone in the world.

Even though it was far from the city, the effort paid off because the view of the city was stunning and overwhelming once you two arrived. When Yunjin saw the splendor of the city at night, all she could do was softly gasp. The city felt livelier than it did when the sun was out, despite the time.

"Yunjin. I hope that our hearts will be stringed together forever."

She started crying because she was unable to hold back her happiness when you spoke to her in a sincere and caring manner. She responded by giving you a hug, but all you could hear were muffled cries. Nevertheless, she was still able to speak.

"I will. I promise to be with you.. Always... I love you"

Truly it was a great love story that broke down many romance narrative. But that was pointed towards the past and not into the future.

Because as time went on, our connection, which had previously blossomed, began to deteriorate every moment.

There wasn't even a hint of the smile you so desperately wanted to see on her face right now. It was like winning an award that was locked away.

Yunjin was likewise unable to locate the guy who gives her the feeling of freedom and love and keeps her up at night.

It was as though a knot in the thread had suddenly become loose, and when they attempted to loop it up once more, it broke.

When their love for one another began to fade in their lives, they were completely unaware of it. That once-strong kindling of fire has faded, turning everything into a miserable ash that is useless on a cold winter's night.

She found it painful to witness how everything went from being ideal to eventually becoming lost. Simply put, the gestures and spark had vanished. It hurt Yunjin especially since you weren't just a stranger standing in front of their sweetheart, who was simply a stranger they had formerly known.

You were her friend.

You were there all the time for her

You were her wall when she leaped into her destiny.

You were her once everything turned to nothing. That has completely broken her heart and undermined her self-esteem. And just when things weren't getting any worse, they did, for everyone in her group as well as for her.

That terrible performance was in no way a justification for how she feels about her intimate relationship. Her job as a performer was to take the stage and kill it. Rather, their supporters and detractors slaughtered them.

This was supposed to be the perfect time to have your shoulder, your voice and your heart for her but where were you?

You were nowhere to be seen.

She didn't want to get in touch with you because every game matters during the playoffs and you were in that stage. You still reach out to her even if she made the decision to keep her problems to herself. And once more her smile appeared.

But when the voice she was expecting didn't sound the same, it vanished. It had lost its loveliness. Rather, it was the concern-only voice of a friend. She realizes her partner is no longer with her.

She shouldn't have held onto it for so long considering how long ago it vanished. She was grasping only air, no longer a rope of their affection. She couldn't have imagined losing you, which is why it was so upsetting to her.

It's because of you that she thought love was genuine. She had never experienced pure love this close to him, and she had it with you.

Sadly, she also lost it to you.

Because you loved her before she did, did she truly love you? Or did she just tell herself lies to make it seem and feel genuine?

You no longer made the effort or attempt to ignite the spark. You personally witnessed it. That Yunjin you saw and fell in love with then was a different Yunjin. No matter how much you wanted it to, your heart didn't scream her name. It disapproved of the notion.

In an instant, all that has transpired between you and the memories you both shared vanish in the same manner. The affection vanished.

When Yunjin opened her eyes, she had no idea that the day was coming to a close and that the sky had turned orange. She shed a tear on her left, but didn't give it any attention because she had to go back to her room with her friends.

Her members was the one thing she could always count on, no matter what challenges she encountered.

In their worst moments, they supported one another. She wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for their support, which enabled her to overcome her personal struggles. In another universe, there's a good chance she lost it and vanished from this world.

However, because she felt the love and concern from her members, it didn't happen in this universe. For her, the fact that they remained together at this difficult time was sufficient to enable her to go on and lead a fulfilling life. Although that might not be the perfect story for her, you know what they say.

One door opens while another shuts. All you have to do is wait for them to show themselves.

Yunjin took a deep breath and turned to face whatever lay ahead of her. Why should she give up now that she has persevered this far? She moved backward into the arms of her members, whom she might joyfully refer to as..., a slight smile spreading across her face.

her home

#kpop fanfic #le sserafim #fanfiction #kpop #angst

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