#hope this Monday is swell for everyone!

[themissingmango]

“Because I was inverted.”

[joelsdagger]

let it flow | frankie morales x f!reader

read on ao3

pairing: sub!frankie x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 4.4k (i think something possessed me bc this was originally 1k lmao) summary: you start a new form of birth control which has many side effects but frankie takes advantage of one side effect in particular. warnings: canon divergent, established relationship (reader and frankie are married), sub!frankie, soft dom!reader, body worship, pet names, nipple play, mommy kink, lactation kink, mutual masturbation , praise kink, pre-ejaculation, overstimulation, cumplay, cum eating, fluff.  No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader. um i think that’s it? *scratches neck* disclaimer: this is literally for shits and giggles bc a friend and i were talking about sub!frankie having a lactation kink, but we weren’t feeling the whole pregnancy trope so i found a loophole hehe. after extensive research, i found that certain types of birth control that include progestin *can* increase lactation as well as breast enlargement and tenderness, so i tweaked this specifically for the purpose of this fic. i don’t study medicine so some of this isn’t 100% accurate so if anything is wrong just remember this is just for horny fun and i changed some things to fit what i was going for. if this piece is not for you, that’s cool, obviously not everyone is gonna be into the same stuff but please just move along and let everyone else enjoy the fun.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my first fic i was so incredibly nervous about it but yall have been so so kind. technically, i told myself i would post this friday for frankie friday, but the longer shit stays in my drafts the more i start to hate it and the urge to scrape everything grows too strong lol. this one is for kat and lyss who gave me this idea and then we screamed about it til 1am. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo and @papurgaatika for beta’ing and literally always saving me bc i can never read my fics from start to finish so they always come thru during the editing process. and shout out to my pinterest QUEEN, @aurasjournal, for helping me with the visuals. thanks for reading i hope you like it <3 super cute divider by @saradika

You’re staring back at yourself in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, assessing your breasts, they’re full, heavy and they ache. This is the fourth day in a row of feeling the consequences of your new birth control and the pain has only gotten worse. “The shit we do….fuckin’ birth control,” you mumble under your breath. 

You had switched to a different form of birth control earlier in the week, the IUD route wasn’t working out so well for you. For starters, the pain of getting the IUD implanted was unbelievably excruciating and on top of that, you had ParaGard (the copper IUD) implanted which didn’t have hormones so you were still getting your period. Your periods were heavy and painful and you have been seeking an alternative solution to stop them completely. At your last visit with your gynecologist, you both agreed to switch you over to taking birth control pills. 

Your physician had informed you that the pill form was a progestin-only contraceptive that would decrease the bleeding during your menstrual cycle or possibly get rid of it completely if you skipped the placebo pills on the last week of your pack. There was one not-so-tiny problem, you were not told that being on the pill would make your tits swell and you sure as hell didn’t know the damn pill would make you lactate. 

Earlier today you practically sobbed to your doctor on the phone. 

“Doc, sorry to be blunt but my tits fucking hurt,” you cry, tears welling up in your eyes. At this point, the pain had become unbearable.

“That’s pretty normal hun, it’s a common side effect for some women. As I told you on Monday, the use of a hormonal birth control that contains progestin can increase the likelihood of producing breast milk even if you aren’t pregnant. It’s your hormones adjusting to the pill and it’s going to take your body three to four months to adjust,” your doctor explained.

‘Wait three to four months,” you shout, "Doc, you didn’t mention anything about that. What the hell am I supposed to do?” you ask rashly.

Your doctor hesitates, “Well, we could go back to the copper IUD but then-”

“Then, I’d get my period yeah absolutely not,” you frantically cut her off.

“We could book you to come back in and try another route but I’m booked until the end of the month,” she suggests. 

“Of course you are, you’re like the only nice physician in the office, everyone wants to see you,” you laugh bitterly.

“There is something else that may help until we can see you in the office...many women have said that it helps,” she says.

You cross an arm around your chest, wincing slightly as your arm presses tightly against your chest, before dropping your arm back down at your side, “Okay…what is it?”

“You could massage them or have your husband stimulate your nipples,” she says nonchalantly. 

“Stimulate my nipples?” you hesitate, your eyes widening at her suggestion. 

“Yes, have him use his fingers or-”

“You’re not serious?”

Your doctor chuckles at your curiosity, “Yes, nipple stimulation and other sensual activities, can trigger and release the hormone, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the love hormone. Once oxytocin is triggered, your hormone levels are boosted and then it increases arousal and stress relief. Once it's released into the bloodstream, it helps alleviate breast tenderness and breast pain as well assisting with the flow of breast milk so yes, it’ll help.” she says pointedly.

You stare ahead, wide eyed and mouth agape. What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

“Look honey, many women have come in and told me directly that it helps, believe it or not, it even helps induce labor, but that’s beside the point, many women have been in your position and they have reported that it works. So at least try this out, and see how it makes you feel, just until we can get you an appointment and have you come in and then we can try something else. Alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah alright, thanks again Doc,” you huff, your hand rubs at your temple before dragging it down your face. 

“No problem hun, keep me updated through the portal,” she says. 

“Will do,” you hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch. 

That was six hours ago and now you’re standing in your bathroom as you wait for the bathtub to fill up. You read online that heat therapy could reduce some of the pain. While your husband was at work, you sprawled yourself out across the couch with a heating pad on your chest. It managed to ease the pain for a bit until the set timer turned the heating pad off and the second you stood up, the pain worsened again. 

To be honest, you’re a little embarrassed to bring it up to Frankie. It's not like Frankie won’t want to do it, he’d be very interested but what the hell are you supposed to say to him. Hey honey, my tits hurt and they’re leaking breast milk. Can you play with them a little so they feel better? He loves to engage in a little titty appreciation but this is a whole different ball game. You really aren’t in the mood to have this conversation with Frankie tonight, unsure of how he would react and possibly causing a bigger issue. 

You can hear the TV through the bathroom door, Frankie is watching some game. But when he hears you croak out in pain when you remove your bra, hands clutching at your swollen breasts, he moves lightning fast towards the bathroom door. 

“Querida, are you alright in there?” he asks through the door, his hand wrapped around the door handle.

You bite down on your lip, sighing before you finally bite the bullet and admit what’s going on. You crack open the door just enough so he can hear you better. 

“It’s-,” You let out another exhausted sigh as you rub your temple, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Remember, a few days ago, I went to my gynecologist and we decided to switch birth control methods?” He nods, eyes full of concern. 

“The pills are making my hormones go crazy and they’re making my tits swell and well…” you pull the door open to gesture towards your breasts. “I’m like a fucking pregnant woman but without the damn pregnancy,” you grumble. 

You immediately clock the worry on his face but Frankie can’t help the fact that he is practically salivating when he looks down at your tits. You notice his jaw slacken, his lips part as he takes in the curve of your breasts, they have grown a noticeable difference in size. You hear him inhale sharply when his stare drops to your nipples, dark and swollen. 

Suddenly feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, you bring a hand up to cover your breasts, he inhales once again before speaking, yet you speak before he does, “It’s fine, apparently a bath will help, and I’ve got the water running. I’ll be out in a few minutes babe,” you press, a tight smile on your face. 

You see it all over his face, he wants to help but he doesn’t know how. His big, deep brown eyes filled with worry. “Okay baby, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he says quietly, eyebrows still raised. You can sense the uneasiness in his body language but he doesn’t press the subject. 

You thank him and shut the door, hearing him step back towards the bed. You slip off your panties and toss them into the hamper, then step into the hot water, sighing as you dip beneath the water.

After a few short minutes, you slowly bring your hands up to cup your breasts, experimentally kneading them. You press your hands more firmly and you bite down on your lip as you try to muffle a quiet moan. Huh. It does help. You continue toying with them until the water is no longer warm and your fingers become pruny. 

Dragging yourself out of the water and stepping out of the tub, you pull the plug out, the water spinning through the drain. Leisurely, you dry yourself off, pull a thin white tank top over your head, and drag a clean pair of blue lace panties over your legs. 

As you open the door to let the steam out of the bathroom, you grab your fuzzy robe from the hook behind the door, wrap it around your damp body, and head into the bedroom to catch the rest of the game with your husband. 

Yet, to your surprise, you find the TV off and instead see Frankie sitting up in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other holding his phone as he squints at the screen. 

You chuckle as you walk over to your nightstand. “Thought you were supposed to be wearing your glasses?” You tease, your lips forming into a smile.  

“I look dorky with ‘em, ‘sides I don’t need them right now,” he mimics your tone and turns his head to watch as you pump some of your cocoa butter body lotion into your hand and work it into your skin.  

“So, I did some googling,” he starts, a sly smirk creeping up onto his face as he continues, “It said…messaging them and sucking on them would help.” His eyes are still on the bare parts of your damp skin, completely enamored by how your skin looks in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You tense, hands freezing, streaks of lotion yet to be fully rubbed into your skin, “Baby, that’s ridiculous,” you laugh him off. 

“No, I’m serious look,” Frankie sits up and moves across the bed, holding out his phone for you to read the article he was studying beforehand.

“I don’t know about this Frankie,” you shake your head, frowning while you avert your eyes from his. 

“Come here,” smirking devilishly as he brings his hands up to your arms, pulling you towards the bed. 

“Frankie–” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

He tilts his head up to look up at you with those big brown eyes that you often find difficult turning down. “Trust me,” his hands rubbing up and down your arms soothingly.  

“You know I do, Frankie, the hell did I marry you for,” you tease, you sneak your hands behind his neck and interlock your fingers as you lean down and press a soft kiss to his head.   

“Then c’mere, let me help,” he whispers and it sounds more like a plea. He’s pulling you down onto the bed, guiding you to sit up against the pillows. His hands find your robe, untying the knot in the soft belt across your waist. You lean forward slightly while he pulls your robe off slowly,  his eyes watching your face, searching for any indication to stop but he doesn’t find any. 

He tosses the robe behind him on the bed as he leans down over you, nudging your legs open as he settles himself between your legs. He brings his hands back up to the thin material of your tank top, cupping your tender breasts in his large hands. 

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, fuck–, so pretty baby,” he babbles lowly, goosebumps erupt on your skin, even after years of being married to him he still knows exactly what to say to make you feel so desirable. 

He gently squeezes your breasts, his thumb sweeps over your nipple back and forth, you whine softly as your hands find his hair, burying your fingers in his curls. It hurts but it’s pleasurable, the pressure he’s using feels better than what you were doing earlier in the bath. 

Frankie pinches your covered nipples between his rough fingers, hardening under his touch, you hiss when he tweaks them tightly, Frankie pauses, his eyes meet yours for a moment, “it’s okay–feels good, keep going,” you whisper to him. 

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples and sucks it through the material with his other hand still fondling your other nipple. “Fuck– that feels good Frankie,” you moan, he whimpers lowly and feels his cock twitch in his boxers. Your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth falls open and he hollows his cheeks, sucking harder around your nipple. 

His mouth lets go of your breast, you look down to see the wet patch that formed over your peaked-covered nipple before he hastily pulls the tank top over your head, tossing it onto the floor, Frankie lets out a shameless groan when his eyes hungrily lock on your bare chest like a missile to a target. 

He leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your breast. You feel the warmth of his breath over your breast, a tingling sensation sneaks down your body. His hot mouth closes around your pebbled nipple. 

“Shit, Frankie,” you arch further into his mouth, and he moans and his tongue flicks up against your peaked nipple, and then he bites down softly, his eyes open, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Frankie feels a slight warm gush fill his mouth, his eyes slip closed, whimpering around the bud. 

You tug on Frankie’s hair, pulling his mouth away from you, your stomach twisting at his reaction when he feels the gush of liquid filling his mouth. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen-”

“Baby, hey, it’s okay. I was just surprised-” 

“No I know, it’s just gross,” you frown, feeling the pang of embarrassment in your belly.

“It’s not–it’s not gross. I–I liked it,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“Really?” you ask softly. 

He laughs lightly and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth then another just below your jaw. His beard scraping along your skin as he places wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, all the way down past your collarbones until he reaches the valley of your breasts once again.

“Relax baby, I got ya,” he whispers against your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your head falls back against the headboard, and your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, petting at his long brown curls. He ducks down to bring his mouth to your nipple, he parts his lips around the bud, his tongue circling around the bud a few times, licking at your nipple, he closes his lips and sucks softly before tugging it between his teeth, he hums around it, making you grasp at the sheets beneath you, a low ache building in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it baby boy,” you say softly, petting his hair. You open your eyes when you feel him press his cock against your leg, his cock stirring in his boxers at your praise. 

He’s loving this, loves the taste of you and loves how good he’s making you feel. 

His hand palms your other breast, squeezing and kneading the meat of your tit, beads of milk collecting at the peak. He takes your nipple in between his calloused fingers and pinches it harder between his index and middle finger, the milk pours out from the bud down his hand and onto his forearm. 

Frankie feels the warm liquid on his arm, his mouth letting go of your breast, his pupils full of lust never leaving your face as he lifts his left hand up and licks a long slow, thick stripe from his forearm up his hand. Your mouth falls open and your chest heaves at the sight. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he groans, his eyes closing at the taste of you. His cock twitches against your leg, now painfully hard in his boxers. 

He dips his head back down and licks up the milk leaking down your torso up to your nipple. He moans once his hot mouth latches around the stiff peak and his tongue swirls around it. He laps up the warm white liquid he’s sucking out of your breast. “There you go baby, just like that,” you sigh, closing your eyes and your head falls back against the headboard. 

One of his knees perches onto your leg, he grinds his cock against the meat of your thigh, he moans deeply, his fingers digging into the flesh of your breasts. “So, needy for me huh, baby boy,” you tut, gripping firmly onto his soft curls. 

He whines quietly, and unbeknownst to Frankie, he starts rutting his hard length against your leg in slow, shallow thrusts, you feel a rumble of a moan in his throat around your nipple. At the sudden movement, your head snaps up to see your husband getting himself off against your body, his teeth sinking into your breast. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, he’s insatiable and relentless and it makes your pussy pulse and clench around nothing. 

“Ohhh that’s it– good boy Frankie,” you moan breathlessly, feeling him suck harder on your breast with a deep groan.

You grab at Frankie’s hair again, your hand combs his hair back while tugging at his hair, gently pulling his head back and he whines loudly when you pull his mouth away from your breast. You catch a glistening sheen on his lips when you direct his head to your other breast. 

Your eyes meet his dark, blown out pupils as your thumb rubs his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. You thumb the bottom of his plump, soft lip, wiping the milk off of his mouth. Your thumb slips between his lips and you whisper, “Who’s my good boy?” 

He shivers beneath your touch, “I am,” he murmurs softly, his head resting down on your chest once again. Your hand cradles his head and you move your hand down along his head to cup his face.

You watch your husband’s eyes shut as he closes his mouth around your nipple and continues suckling from your breast, “Fuck– Frankie, keep going,” you pant into his hair, your hands still toying with his curls, eliciting another whine from him. 

He shifts and begins fucking himself into the mattress once again, seeking any type of friction possible. 

Watching your husband getting himself off to your body sends a sharp, hot spark of arousal down your spine straight to your core, your pussy throbbing and your panties now wet and sticky with your slick. 

You smirk and bring your lips down to his ear, whispering the word that you know lights a fire within him.  “You’re making mommy feel so good baby,” and Frankie whimpers, his mouth swallowing your breast whole, his hips grinding down faster into the mattress. 

“That’s it, baby, atta boy, such a good boy for mommy,” you coo into his ear. Frankie lets out a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttering and groaning when he feels himself spilling out all over the inside of his boxers. Your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at him, realizing he just came simply from putting his mouth on you. 

His hips shudder, occasionally jerking erratically, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he hisses from overstimulation, you continue whispering praises into his ears. 

While his mouth works on relieving your breast you take matters into your own hands, bringing your fingers down to your neglected cunt. You press your fingers into your covered slit, feeling the wetness of your pussy through the material before pushing your panties to the side. You move your fingers to your throbbing clit, circling eagerly while his tongue swirls over your nipple. 

He bites down on the bud a little more harshly, feeling another gush of warm liquid in his mouth, “tastes so good mi corozòn,” he whimpers against your breast, closing his eyes while his teeth nip at the wet bud. 

Feeling a cooling wetness from his eyes seeping onto your breast, you briefly look down to find tears stinging his eyes from the pleasure, the teeth marks on your nipples, your skin all wet and red from his mouth. 

He continues sucking at your breast, licking up the sweet taste of you into his mouth and moaning around your nipple, savoring the taste. 

You slip your fingers into your wet heat with a moan. “So good, Frankie, ohhh– you’re doing so well for mommy,” you gasp out while grinding your hips up into your own hand.  He whimpers, his cock twitches, throbbing lightly against the mattress, he’s getting hard just from hearing that word once again. 

Your other hand roughly tugs on Frankie’s soft locks, pushing his head further into you, swallowing more of your breast into his mouth. 

Frankie was too far gone to notice, but you realize he’s grinding himself into the bed once again, still moaning and whimpering into your tender flesh. You thrust your fingers into your pussy, timing them to Frankie’s thrusts into the bed, the wet squelch from your fingers thrusting in and out obscenely echoes in your bedroom. 

“That’s perfect, Frankie— don– don’t stop…shit. I’m so close–” You curl your fingers inside yourself, petting at the spongy spot deep inside while his teeth nip and lick and suck at your tit. 

You shout Frankie’s name as your back arches off the bed, legs shaking around Frankie’s body when your orgasm finally sweeps over you. 

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, moving fast to sit up and back on his knees, his hands making quick work of pulling off his underwear. His cock bobs up against the soft swell of his stomach. He hisses when he wraps a large hand around the girth and he thumbs the wide blunt of his tip smearing the beads of pearly white dribbling out from the slit. 

Your tongue pokes out, licking your bottom lip before biting down on the flesh. Your hands massage your breasts, your fingers pinching your erect, sensitive nipples under Frankie’s fucked out gaze. 

Desperately, he fists his cock over your figure. “Come, baby. Be a good boy and come for mommy,” you order him while staring into his eyes, dark and dilated, his mouth hanging open as he strokes his cock. 

Your low voice and your words are all he needs to bring him over the edge. The thrusting of his hips gets more erratic as he jacks his cock tighter in his hand and increases the pace, the wet, lewd slap from his strokes gets louder, his whimpers and pants filling the otherwise quiet room. 

“There you go, atta boy, give it to me Frankie, let it out," you encourage him softly. 

Your eyes watch the muscles in his soft belly tighten and his thighs tensing up, his moans growing louder and louder and louder, his eyes roll back into his head, “Fuck– mami,” a long drawn out, agonizing groan slipping past his lips, you watch as his cock twitches in his hand, his hips stammer as long, thick, warm ropes of cum paint your stomach. 

“That’s it baby, just like that, you did so good. So good Frankie,” you murmur. He opens his eyes and looks back down at you, still catching his breath while he watches the last of his cum spill onto your swollen breasts, he groans seeing the marks he’s left on your skin. Your tits are covered in splotches of red and teeth marks from his mouth, his come and the milk from your breasts leaking down your chest and onto your stomach. 

His hair is a mess, his pupils are blown out, he looks completely in a haze, utterly fucked out. You smirk up at him and click your tongue, “You made such a mess on mommy, Frankie.” 

His cheeks warm, the redness creeping down his neck and chest, he’s embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he mumbles, his hand scratching the back of his neck.  

You move your fingers down your stomach, gathering his cum onto your fingers, “Don’t get shy on me now, come here my love,” your other hand reaches for him.

He crawls up towards your side, you slip a coated finger into your mouth and you close your eyes and hum. Frankie curses quietly to himself, seeing your pearly-covered finger slipping into your mouth and back out devoid of sheen. 

You bring a finger up to his mouth, your fingertip pressing against his lips, “open,” you order. You take advantage of his jaw slackening, sticking your glossy finger into his mouth and his lips close around your digit. You feel his tongue flatten underneath your finger then swirls it around your finger as he sucks it clean, he closes his eyes, his brows furrow, and he moans at the salty taste. 

“See, I keep telling you, you taste good, sweetheart,” you smile down at him, tucking a single brown lock behind his ear. 

“You did so good for me baby, made me feel so good,” you tell him while holding his patchy-bearded face. He chuckles timidly before pressing his lips to yours, licking behind your teeth, tasting himself in your mouth and mumbles a faint I love you against your lips.  

Frankie pecks your lips again before sitting up and walking over to the bathroom. You hear him flick the light on and the tap turning on and off while your eyes drift shut. You feel the warm wet rag dragging across your tummy and your tits, and then down between your folds as he cleans you up with tenderness. 

You open your eyes again when you hear him pad off towards the bathroom once more, watching him toss the washcloth back in the bathroom before he tucks himself into your side and nuzzles his face into the valley of your breasts, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling your skin.  

Frankie’s low voice breaks the comfortable silence, “Next time it hurts, you tell me cariño, ‘m more than happy to do that again,” he says shyly, feeling the smile on his face against your chest.

You fail to suppress your giggle, “Yeah, you enjoyed yourself didn’t you, sweet boy?” Your fingers run through his long soft brown curls, your fingertips grazing down his neck, a hint of sweat at the end of his hair along the back of his neck. 

“Mhm,” he hums, and you grin into his hair, pressing your lips to his messy curls, your eyelids heavy with sleep. He feels your fingers still, Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, “Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re not done mi vida, I still need to make you come again.”

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Twins

Visiting a military plane demonstration, you wait in line to see inside the planes parked on the runway. You get jostled hard by a rude man and almost fall down from the steps. A nearby military officer in a black balaclava catches you. He is clearly irritated to be here, but you try to flirt a little anyway, asking him if he saves many damsels in distress.

Before he can respond, you hear a scream, then quickly following the sound, more screams. You see a handful of people start attacking bystanders. Springing into action, you help usher many to safety, yelling commands at them to get them moving toward a nearby gate. You don't notice the masked man doing the same thing until you see a woman running past you with a knife in her hand, aiming at him. Acting on pure instinct, you tackle her, knocking it out of her hands. Suddenly, you are in a fierce fight to keep her from grabbing it again. She strikes at you where she can, hitting you fiercely as her desire to continue her attack takes priority over all else. She carves deep gouges in your face with her fingernails, making you panic slightly. You grab her ear and yank, tearing part of it free, releasing a gout of blood. She stops attacking momentarily, and the masked man is there helping you. He zip ties her hands behind her back and tells you to sit on her while grumbling about civilians getting involved. You jokingly tell him you couldn't stand owing a favor and wink up at him before waving him off to go help others.

As you sit, she screams and curses and fights, trying to get free. Finally, irritated beyond belief by her antics, you threaten to Vincent Van Gogh her ear and cut it the rest of the way off. It takes some time, but things finally calm down, and medics make the rounds, triaging and helping everyone who was injured in the attack. A medic and a few military personnel take charge of the woman before your turn for a medic finally comes. He takes one look at you, and he immediately sends you to the line to wait for the hospital. You are a lower priority than most despite needing stitches for your still bleeding wounds, so you wait quietly. A man with a mohawk wanders over with the masked man, asking for your statement. He introduces himself as Soap and the masked man as Ghost, who remains silent. You tell Soap what you saw and did, then joke quietly, "I couldn't seize the day, so I seized an ear." He chuckles, and you glance at Ghost. "I hope to see you around," you say with a bloody smile, but you can't manage a wink past the swelling of your face as they load you into an ambulance. At the hospital, you are treated for a broken clavicle, two broken fingers, and the gouges on your face, which need stitches.

On Monday, you report to your new commanding officer. It takes extra time to get on base because the gate guards are on high alert and very suspicious of your bandaged face. When you finally get to his office, Captain Price is surprised at the injuries you are sporting. You explain what happened, and he smirks at your mention of Ghost but doesn't say anything. He gives you a quick tour, showing you the med bay, mess hall, and your quarters before continuing on with the rest of his day.

You slowly carry your things from your vehicle to your quarters, having packed everything in small boxes so they aren't too heavy, determined not to need help. You are on the last load when Soap nearly runs into you in the hall. He recognizes you despite your bandages and quickly takes the box out of your hands despite your protests, carrying it to your room for you.

"So, what are ye movin in here for, lass? Fall in love with someone at the airshow," he asks, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You laugh, "No, just the new doctor for the team."

He looks dubiously at your injuries, and you roll your eyes, "Can't a girl save a man without it coming back to bite her?"

He laughs and takes his leave late for a meeting. When you go to lunch, he waves you over to sit, knowing how much it sucks to be the new guy. Ghost sits across from you without looking and strikes up a conversation with Soap about some upcoming training. When you laugh at a joke that Soap makes, he finally looks up and does a double-take.

"Damsel, what are you doing here?"

"New doc," Soap choruses.

"Doc, we need to get you trained in grappling," Ghost grumbles, looking over your injuries.

"Sure, in about 3 months when I can lose the sling," you quip.

"I'll reserve the room," he says flatly, undeterred by your current state.

"That's an estimate, not a guarantee, Ghost."

"Yes, that is why you will bulk up on protein and heal faster." He picks up his tray and shoves the meat off it and onto yours.

You stare at him for a long moment before saying, "No thanks... I'll just eat MY food." His glare leaves no room for argument, so you turn away, but you can still feel his eyes on you. You grumble as you eat a bite, and he smirks before turning back to his own tray. The moment he looks away, you shove the meat back on his plate and stand to leave. His "Oi!" calling after you makes you want to grin, though the stitches prevent it as you hurry off.

At the end of the week, you are glad to be able to remove the stitches. You wait until after hours, setting yourself in front of a mirror, snipping, and pulling them out. A boot scuff tells you that you're not alone. "Clinic is closed. If it's an emergency, I can treat you, but otherwise, you'll have to wait until tomorrow." There is no answer, and you look around seeing no one. But you know what you heard. You go back to pulling stitches, but shift your position a bit, protecting the arm in a sling in case someone decides to attack you again.

"You know you can have someone else pull those, right?" Ghost's voice floats to you.

"Damn place is haunted. I'm hearing ghosts talk to me," you say, chuckling to yourself.

He huffs and walks out of the darkness to stand behind you. "I'm just saying you don't have anything to prove."

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm just working to minimize the scarring." You say it flippantly, but he can see the slight frown on your face as you look at the injuries.

"All I see is a hero, but I do understand. You could always mask up like me." He says it jokingly, but you consider it.

"Not the worst idea. But a bally isn't my style. Wouldn't want to copy your thing." You finish pulling stitches after a few more minutes of silence and turn to face him, but he has disappeared into the shadows again. "See if I invite you over for tea, then." You hear a chuckle fading off in the distance and smile despite yourself.

The next day, you have a grimace on your face the entire day, seeing others stare at your now stitch-less but still injured face. Ghost conspicuously doesn't look, and Soap tries to joke about others being jealous, but it falls flat. You've never been a vain person. You can't help being self-conscious, though. Your frustration peaks when a nurse stares slack jawed at you for nearly ten straight minutes, prompting you to put on a surgical mask. It helps slightly, but the gouges are still visible on the rest of your face. You think about it all day and come up with a solution.

That night, you furiously stitch a flower printed bamboo t-shirt into a mask, carefully cutting and sewing it to drape across your face. You make a square block for your eyes, making sure it is smooth and not going to irritate your healing skin. Donning it, you make a few adjustments, stitching the arms shut except for a slit near your ears to fit a surgical mask as needed, and you stitch the neck of the shirt closed. The end result is a cute, breathable mask that hides all of the scarring except a line near your eyes. It's perfect even if it covers almost your entire face.

The stares you get the next week are still nerve-wracking, but they lessen as the time goes on. Ghost simply throws a smirk your way while Soap laments the loss of another friend with a wink at you, not able to stop himself from teasing. You shut down your staff when they try to bring it up. Captain Price shoots you a sad look and a nod. He would clearly prefer you didn't hide, but he understands. Your work maintains its same level of quality, so he simply marks the preference to hide your face in your file and moves on. The first person to complain about your supposed lack of professionalism to him is told to "fuck off right to hell, you daft prick," professionally... in those exact words.

A few months in, your sling is finally off, and you spend several hours a week grappling with Soap and Ghost as promised. Ghost even trains you in using a knife in combat, quipping that you can switch to your scalpel when the lessons are finished. The scars on your face are growing darker, becoming more and more apparent as time goes on. The mask will stay. When the Captain tries to discuss it gently, you lift the bottom, showing him the edges of the scars. The dark purple and red lines against your pale skin couldn't be anymore obvious. He nods with a quiet, "Understood, Major."

After Ghost shows you many techniques and hones your skills, he brings you into the recruit class one day a week. The goal is to help you maintain those skills and learn against different opponents who are less skilled than him. The first time you begin to win a fight, the recruit yanks off your mask despite specific instructions not to do so, hoping to stun you. Instead, you get angry and knock him over onto his stomach, one arm pinned under him and the other under your left foot with your right knee on his back. Calmly, you pull your mask from his hand and work to drape it back over your face. Glancing up, you see that Ghost is standing over you, blocking the other recruits from staring and absolutely furious on your behalf. You climb off the recruit, and the young man gets the tongue lashing of a lifetime and is then smoked in front of the rest of the recruits. The dirty trick doesn't happen again.

It's nine months after you first started working on base when a new man joins the team. You meet him at lunch, looking up and giggling when you realize you have very similar masks on. Soap makes a joke about the two of you being twins, but Ghost just stares at both of you.

König, as he is called, is immediately infatuated with you. He begins wooing you immediately, his eyes never straying to anyone else. He wants to see you wear his mask, watch your eyes roll up in your mask as you cum on him. He wants to see the face beneath the mask fall apart. It doesn't take long for every fantasy of his to come true... and a few of your own. You never feel self-conscious of your scarring around him. He worships you and your scars every chance he gets. But you still wear the mask every day for the rest of your life and sometimes his if you want to rile him up.

[tinysocks0]

hellooooo um so i saw your requests are open and i was wondering if you’d write some fluffy madness where reader tries their best to comfort rhea after she had to vacate the women’s championship title?

you can take the concept and do what you want with it but im just begging for rhea fluff bc theres an agonizingly low amount of rhea fics as it is 🥺🙏🏼

On Top Again

Angst, fluff, fluff ending, No use of Y/N, gender neutral reader. That’s pretty much it I think

(Sorry if it’s a little short!! But I tried my best, I hope you like it!! <3)

That week, Rhea was very to herself, which was unlike her and you had no clue why. You tried cheering her up with little surprises and affection, and while it put a smile on her face it never lasted long.

You figured she needed space; Rhea wasn’t the strongest communicator when it came to her feelings. You were aware of that. You knew if something was bothering her terribly, she’d come to you.

Now you knew what kept her spirts down that week when you watched Monday Night Raw, you stared at the screen with a sad, pitiful look. That championship was proof of her commitment, hard work, and her literal blood, sweat, and tears. It was her whole life encased in a shiny golden belt she wore with pride; and that night it was almost as if it was stripped from her over an injury. You could only imagine her pain in that moment.

When she got home the next day around noon, she seemed almost defeated. You knew she put up a strong front for work, but now she didn’t seem too sure of her abilities.

You slowly walked towards her while she was crouched, giving Barry and Luna some much needed affection. She wore a baggy band shirt paired with her signature sweatpants, suitcase still at the door.

“Hey, love. I seen what happened last night..do you feel like talking about it?..”

Rhea sighed, getting up and giving you a deep hug which you returned immediately. She finally spoke up after a few moments in your embrace.

“..I’m sorry I’ve been distant..and not talking to you as much as I should. I just got the news before Raw..I felt like I needed to process it on my own before going up on stage and announcing it in front of everyone. I knew you were worried about me, and I’m sorry..”

You looked up at Rhea, cupping her face in your hands before speaking gently.

“I know you process emotions differently Rhea, and that’s okay. I understand…and I’m sorry you lost your championship. It meant a lot to you.”

Rhea gives you a pity half-smile, looking to the side.

“It did..it still does. I worked my ass off for that championship only for it to get stripped away from me. I don’t even know what I’m going to have to do to get it back.”

You heard the frustration in her voice, quickly replying to try and ease her nerves.

“Hey, hey..baby, I know you’ll get it back. If anyone is worthy of that title it’s you. It took an injury to take your title away from you, not anyone else’s willpower. That sounds pretty badass if you ask me.”

Rhea cracked a small smile, looking at you with a glimpse of hope in her eyes as you continued speaking.

“I know that championship meant the world to you. I’m sorry.” You gave Rhea a sympathetic look, putting a strand of hair that was in her face behind her ear.

“It was my whole life, but you are too. You’re my number one motivator and I’m so glad that you believe in me.”

You smiled at Rhea, tears in your eyes from the swell of emotions you felt from what she just told you.

“It’s going to take a lot more than one little injury to stop thee Rhea Ripley. Even if I also advise you stay home, you most likely wouldn’t have listened.” Rhea chuckled a little bit, showing you a genuine smile for the first time in a while.

You gave Rhea a kiss on the cheek as she kept on giggling; she draped her arms around your waist in return.

“You’re going to be on top again, Rhea, I know you will. You always are.”

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part two)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter two: do you feel it, too?

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: you fight hard to keep old habits at bay. joel falls into his head first.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> semi-public dry humping, kissing, mentions/fantasies of p in v sex, possessive thoughts, no one is drunk but everyone blames the wine, joel miller loves his kid!

word count: 5.3k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: i'm in shambles over the response to the first chapter, this series is my baby and it means so much that you guys liked it. thank you a million times for reading!

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“The wait begins as soon as I wake up. There is never any “after”. Life stops from the moment he rings the doorbell and enters.”

Annie Ernaux - Getting Lost

───────

Joel hasn’t touched the plastic tube since he brought it home last week. 

It’s become something he has to hide from, a nagging thought that pulls at his pant-leg like a child, clawing for his attention—open me, open me. Over and over he hears it, while in the office or cooking dinner or folding the wash, a whisper that begs him to reach in and claim his prize. When he’s really tired, brain damp from the days he has to work, the voice pours into something smoother, and suddenly it's that pretty girl—the one who’d made the thing—asking for the same; to be peeled back and stretched wide for him, cunt and heart and all. 

He finds himself losing a lot of very real time in the fantasy, chunks of his life spooned out to make room. 

The compulsion isn’t unfamiliar; it’s one that Joel thinks has something to do with his protective nature—or maybe that he’s seen enough living through the filters of hurt and mistrust—that makes him cling to the things he finds precious.

It traces back as far as the girls in grade school, when they would bring him little home-made valentines and wave him kisses first stamped onto open palms. He grew enamored with them, picking them flowers and scribbling symbols of promise in their note-books—the very beginnings of his acts of service. His heart would swell with it, a cartoonish thing, growing and pumping until he could keel over to one side from the size. He chased it in those early years, back somewhere between the brothering and fathering, moving through many someones he could fawn over, easing his need to possess. 

He can feel the need rising now, for the first time in too long, his body hurtling itself towards the ledge of something scarier, and he welcomes it. His hands itch for it, for the kind of love with teeth, that bites and tears into the edges of a substance much meatier, providing a place for the points to pierce and hold. He won’t call it what it really is, prefering to stomp out the whisper that warns him of its arrival—obsession. He likes to use less severe terms: thoughtful, involved, fascinated.

Knowing better in his age, he tries at least to be realistic during waking hours, and around Ellie, reminding himself that he has a hard time stepping down when he builds his hope high enough. He moves instead to just dreaming about you—in little tidbits and at guest-star capacity—to tide himself over until the week rolls back around.

Now, on a new Monday, he lets his daughter head off to class before he allows himself the privilege of unwrapping his reward.

He fishes around in the back of the hallway closet where he hid the case, retreating to his room to finally have his time alone with the creature he’d made of the object, letting it free from its cage.

He pops off the cardboard top of the roll, pulling the drawing out with the very tips of his fingers to not smudge something on accident. The sound of it sliding out sets his skin alight—this gift is one he asked for, but it feels like it was given to him all the same. Sharing a piece of you with him so freely, he feels special. 

He’s gotten used to seeing himself around the house, Ellie’s ever-growing library of renditions of him are fixed to the fridge by mis-matched magnets and framed in little glass panels in her room. It leans on the side of betrayal to have someone else’s version of him up, but he just wants to see it—if it’s as intense as he remembers it. As different.

His knuckle follows the curl of the paper to flatten the image, tacking it up to the wall with painter’s tape to avoid damaging the surface, like his daughter taught him. Joel sits on the corner of his bed and feels a hot wave of emotion fill his chest. 

He looks hopeful. It’s a garment he’s never seen himself wear. He’s soft and shy and child-like, face penciled in with detail that reads like a well-worn novel, bending and twisting to the curve of his expression. It’s a finely crafted summary. It’s guide-lines. It’s instructions, the very important parts of him spelled out in bold, black charcoal, with the gray shades of his complexion filling in the gaps. 

Was he that easy to pick apart? 

He’d seen some of the other drawings, the way everyone else had chosen to capture solely his pose, perfectly articulating the crook of his elbow or the network of muscle under the skin of his calf. 

But you’d chosen to show him. 

Something about it looks so familiar, enough to bring forward a memory of the conversation that had him feeling the briefest pass of deja vu—of you glancing down at the ground, quieted maybe by his proximity or his compliments; bashful. 

He walks out into the living room where Ellie keeps her sketchbook, the one with all the references. He thumbs through it—she’s given him permission to see this one—and flips to the page he remembers watching her use last week. And when he sees it, he feels like he’s going to faint. 

It was you. 

That was your face his daughter had been so beautifully replicating. Upon examining the fragmented portrait, he sees a striking resemblance to the one you’d made of him. They’re the same. Not the likeness, of course, but the visage. You knew what he felt like—had felt it yourself.

He already knew you, before you’d even spoken a word to each other. He admits that Ellie was only capable of piecing together so much of you, and even with the extra bits he’d caught in your brief meeting, he feels like he’s missing out. He wants to see the whole picture. You, in totality. 

When he arrives at the school building, he’s overtaken with a wash of what he thinks might be stage-fright. It makes him feel sick, stomach rolling with an embarrassment that scorches like youth—fight low and flight high—and his body starts to feel sore with the effort it takes to keep himself from fidgeting. 

Ellie’s teacher meets him in the hallway and passes him his slip, and he hums his way down to the bathroom to undress, admittedly working up the courage to confront you. 

As he enters the classroom, his excitement bottoms out. You’re not there. He keeps sweeping the room with his eyes, hoping you somehow had been hidden amongst the other bodies. He tries to sell himself the idea that you’re just in the bathroom, or on a break or late, but the wooden bench you’d sat in last week is obviously untouched. 

He clambers onto the stool, trying to replicate his pose from the previous lesson, much more uncomfortable now that he has nothing to distract him. The two hours are painful, and he finds himself counting seconds to fill the minutes in increments of ten until he can leave. 

His back hurts when he stands. 

On his way out, the blonde woman hands him a little flier, two pieces of neon copy paper glued together to make a double-sided image, advertising the group show this coming Friday. Ellie has already reminded him more times than he can count, but he takes it from the woman with the best smile he can muster, slipping out the door in a stride he’s hoping doesn’t come across as wounded. 

───────

The on-campus gallery is what someone a lot kinder than Joel would call cozy—a tight, short chamber with no windows and a single entrance, like a trap. 

He’s too keyed-up to be kind. He feels like nitpicking.

The metal door at the head must have been an afterthought, kicking back into the frame loudly every time someone walks through, nothing implemented to catch it. A continuous beam of fluorescent lighting wraps around the room in an all-encompassing spotlight, cooking the smell of fresh paint off the wall. It reminds him of picture day, or apartment hunting or something else equally unpleasant. 

He was always going to come to this, because he can’t imagine a version of himself who wouldn’t support his daughter, but he’s not happy about it, and he’s starting to feel dizzy from the too-fast swirl of anxiety in his stomach. 

Ellie had removed herself from his side the moment they made it into the building in search of her friends, with just a squeeze of his forearm and an ‘I’ll introduce you later’ left in her wake. He’s clung tightly to the wall ever since, making his way around the room to look at all the drawings, again and again and again until he feels like he’s on a track. 

Discomfort is a factor, but most of his indignation has to do with not seeing you in class—pointed at himself for the absurdity of his expectations—the voice in his head taking a bitter turn. Were you avoiding him? Would you not attend this, either? Did he do something wrong? His mind rambles on as he fiddles with his imitation cocktail glass, the shiny slip of plastic sticking to his fingers. There’s still a generous portion of what has to be five-dollar wine pooled at the bottom, bitter and opaque enough to stain. The woman who poured it for him did so nearly to the top, maybe sympathetically, disregarding that there was money obviously trying to be saved—deeming his cause a worthy one. He doesn’t even want it, really, nauseous at the idea of actually finishing it, but not having something in his hand was winding him even tighter. So he nurses it—even as it goes warm between his grasp, more unappetizing now than it had been twenty minutes ago—sip after sip to try and appear engaged. 

Eventually Joel grows tired of waiting, for Ellie to come back or for you to come at all or for this night to just be over, and picks a drawing to pause in front of. It’s a portrait of someone he’ll never meet, another graceful stranger coming together in an amalgamation of grays. He can hear people walking behind him, talking quietly and occasionally stopping to look over his shoulder at it in passing. 

“Hm. Quite the fan of my work, are you?” He almost ignores the comment, thinking it's for someone else, as it usually is, until there’s a figure taking up too much of his periphery. 

He’s a little dazed when he looks over, the hot, sour wine settled now in the pit of his belly, buzzing with a flare of something not-missed. He’s prepared to see more than one person beside him, perhaps a couple that had been talking near him rather than to him, but when he swivels his neck, it’s you. You’re just as pretty as he remembers, the face that he looks for in his sleep, but this time you’re not as shy, staring at him straight on—maybe similarly loosened by the pale yellow liquid in your own cup. 

Heat gathers at the rim of his jaw—his neck is red by now, he’s sure of it. Already exposed and driven by the faint whisper in his mind, he opens his mouth to speak without thinking, “You weren’t there this week.” 

You make quick quotes with just your pointers half-heartedly, “‘Sick,'” and breathe a laugh, “Had a few academic duties to fulfill. Gotta keep the scholarship intact.” 

There’s a thick moment of silence, but he can’t look away, eyes weighty and cheeks stinging. It’s awkward but he finds comfort in it, embracing the adjustment like it's a step towards better connection. 

Someone brushes his arm as they walk by and Joel uses it to his advantage, “Do you want to step outside? It’s a little hot in here.” 

There’s a flash of something like surprise across your eyes, but you shrug, “Sure.”

He crowds behind you as you walk step-in-step out the unarmed emergency exit, just to feel the closeness of your body, much better than the distance he’d felt in your absence on Monday. 

The night is worse than cold but it feels good against the heat in Joel’s chest. He can smell your perfume wafting back as he follows your movements, and it makes him pant. He’s ill, has to be—that or the wine was stronger than he thought, because the weird tie he feels is one he can’t explain as being healthy or normal or not fucking scary. But when you turn on your heel to face him, taking a seat on a hip-high planter in a secluded outer corner of the building, it feels right. Natural. 

He shuffles so that he’s far enough for you to be safe from his touch, and he shoves a hand in his pocket for good measure, “Thank you again for the drawing. It’s really beautiful.”

“Yeah, of course. Thank you for saying that.”

He wants to say something more, like you’ve captured me in a way that makes me hopeful about myself, but settles instead for, “My daughter liked it a lot, too.” It’s a bold-faced lie, but he thinks that keeping your gift a secret would look less appealing. 

“Is she here?”

“Somewhere, yeah. Ran off the second we got in. I’m not a comfort anymore, I guess.”

“Is she yours? Comfort, I mean.” You pick at the crown of the cup, rolling it gently in your hands like its real glass, and you both watch the fuzzy pattern of light that catches on its uniform surface. Joel wonders if you have a comfort of your own—if you need one.

“Is it bad if I say yes? It feels cheesy but the kid is my rock. Dunno what I’m gonna do when she grows up.” He shoves at the concrete under the toe of his boot. It didn’t taste as bad coming out as he thought it might. He hasn’t said that out loud to anyone other than himself, but you look at him like you know exactly what he means. The delicate beginnings of a smile crest on your face, cheek pinched, void of all the uncomfortable sympathy he's gotten from Tommy and Maria at the few things he made the mistake of revealing. He can’t find it in himself to stop now with your gesture, feeling relief in having a place to voice his heartbreak, “Honestly I’m scared, but not just for me, y’know? I worry about what she’s gonna find in the world. I just want to keep her safe.” 

“She knows it, I’m sure. I know what it feels like to have no one to root for you—I would’ve killed for that. The only thing you can do for her is be there when she comes home,” You’re looking down again, and he doesn’t like whatever’s made you want to pull back from him—be shy, “Spend time with other people you care about and that care about her. Make that network for her to lean on.”

“All I got is my brother. His wife too, sometimes. My nephews. A few years ago it was just me and him. Ellie—that’s her name. She, uh, isn’t ‘mine’,” he makes the bunny-eared quotes with the hand holding his drink, “Not by blood, anyway. But she popped up out of nowhere and I don’t know how to go back to being on my own.” 

“It’d be good to have a network of your own, too—if you’re up to it. It’s hard to do, trust me, but I don’t think I could do a lot without my friends.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore. I can’t conjure up much of anything worth listening to these days. Forgot how.” 

“Don’t do that. You have a lot to say—you’re plenty. Just start with one person. There’s always time to make more.” He knows you’re talking to him, but it feels like you’re also talking to that little boy inside of him, small and unloved and still bleeding.

“Do you need any more? Friends.”

You look up from your lap, pushing a piece of your hair back from your face like you need to get a better look, searching for a way you could be misinterpreting him, “I might have room. You have a recommendation for me?”

He reaches out, grabbing the empty cup from your grasp, stacking it with his own and depositing them by your side. He doesn’t miss the way you watch him, how you widen the spread of your legs on instinct, enough to suggest his entrance. He wades out on one leg to bring himself in, testing the water.

Your lips are parted, and when he looks into the opening between them he imagines he’s seeing to the center of you, and everything else keys out. Cars pass by on the strip of street behind him, driven by ghosts, providing nothing but a low song for your bodies to dance to together, his chest swaying closer to yours with every breath. You move with him, and it feels rehearsed, like all of the steps you've taken to get to this moment were purposeful, done in perfectly orchestrated succession for the hundredth time. 

“Do you feel that, too?” He asks, wanting to know if he’s reading too much into it, feeling that sweet edge of thoughtful-involved-fascinated scrape his skin like a sharp knife, “Do you? Like you know me?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, and it’s all the permission he’s ever needed. 

He leans in, lips skating yours, the warm cave of your mouth begging to be explored. He tries so hard to take his time, soft brushes tethering you to each other with the weight of everything he’ hasn’t had the time to say. His whole body is pins and needles—a fierce heat that floats so high it feels like ice. You sigh into him, the start of a moan, and his composure snaps. Service, he reminds himself, act on it—it feels almost divine when he thinks about all the ways he could pledge his loyalty, ready to bend at your altar every day of his life if it meant you’d sing for him again.

Joel brings a hand to the side of your neck, thumb digging into the pulse point at the corner of your jaw to bring you forward, licking into your mouth in search of more noise. He groans when you relax into his hold, so pretty and willing, and works you until you’re just as fervent, daring to suck his bottom lip between your teeth—going for blood. 

The voice in his head is yours again—open me, eat me, unhinge your jaw and swallow. 

He slots his other hand around the bone of your hip, pulling you nearer to the ledge of the planter, pressing his cock into your inner thigh as it swells to life. You gather his shirt in your hand, a tight fist, shifting yourself against him so you can grind into it instead. No one else exists, no one else could ever exist in this moment, or any moment you attend, for the rest of forever. He wants to fuck you, to see how far the attachment could go, how far he could reach down before he finds a warm, bed-shaped slot for him to rest in. He wants to live inside the body of someone who sees him so clearly. He wants to know every thought in your head before it comes to fruition. 

The wine tastes better coming from off your tongue, and he’s gleaning the flavor from every corner of your mouth like he can achieve a second-hand high. His full weight is rocking into you with enough force now that he has to plant a heel in the ground to keep you both from tumbling. He risks a thumb in your waistband in the flurry, tugging at it in the hope of another invitation. 

Before you have a chance to decide, the loud press of the swing-door at the front of the building opens, and Joel staggers back, remembering where he is and why. 

You look winded to say the least, hair bent from the imprint of his hand, mouth in a perpetual ‘o’, and he’s scared to see the state of his own face, not to mention the visible strain of his cock in his pants. He kicks an ankle out to try to adjust, heaving through an open maw at the thought that you might be affected in that way as well, picturing the slick wet in between your legs—a beautiful sheen from just his mouth on the top half of your body. 

You shimmy off the edge, straightening your shirt and he immediately steps back in for more, draping the full breadth of his hand against your collarbone, curling the tips around the top of your shoulder.

“Joel. I— I need to go inside.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?” 

You lay a hand over his with a squeeze and he retracts it, “Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting… I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

He can feel his breath restricting, heart plummeting down so far it feels like it’s landed in the ball of his foot; the second time this week you’ve pulled away. He thinks back to the face you made at him in the gallery, back before he fucked this up. Maybe you never meant for this to happen at all.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice strained, “I just need a little time. Just some time, I’m sorry.”

“No, no I understand. Don’t be sorry. Will you take my number? Just in case?” He wants to make sure you’re okay after this, if you want that, and selfishly he wants to give you a way to have him, knowing this might be the last time he runs into you. He’s too afraid to leave it up to chance.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” You pass him your phone with shaky fingers. 

“Only if you want to, honey,” He’s disheartened by the whole thing, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he’s careful to double-check, even if it’s a blow to his hope, “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I’m just—the wine, sorry. I think it was bad.” You huff out a strained laugh, “I want it. Your number, I mean. Promise.” You practically shove the thing at him and he takes it this time, entering the contact with as little squinting as possible to save himself from any further humiliation. 

───────

You all but run into the bathroom in the back of the building, needing a moment alone to consider what the fuck it is that’s going on right now—what’s been going on since he walked into your class two weeks ago and overstayed his welcome. 

You stumble in, bracing yourself against the porcelain basin, switching on the faucet to drown out some of the pounding in your head. You’d been lying when you said the wine was catching up to you—very much sober—but now, in this suffocating, gray room, you feel like it must have at least accelerated the churning in your gut. 

You let water gather in your hands, bending to dip your face in the too-cold pool between them. 

Every day has been mostly encouraging if not indifferent but this feels like the start of a bad dream you won’t be able to wake up from, dragging you right back to that dark box you’d been existing in. He came in from nowhere, kicking down your reserve, for what? For a fuck? To enjoy you in passing? Or worse, to stay? You’re unsure which would be harder to receive.

And it’s unfair—for him to show up right at the point of being fully on your own, as soon as you’ve chosen to avoid getting caught up in that part of your life. You’re past the point of surrendering your time—know better than to want to be bogged down by a crush or the preconceived idea of the perfect stranger. 

You don’t know him, and you don’t need to. 

But you want him so bad it hurts; so bad you had to fake a cold to skip class because you couldn't face the idea of seeing him for the last time. You debated skipping the grade for the exhibition too, but you used any excuse to convince yourself he might not show. You weren’t sure who his daughter was, or how enthusiastic she was about the program, so you figured it was a fair shot. You outwardly willed him not to come, at yourself in the mirror and in the shower and out loud the car, all while secretly praying he’d be in attendance, right up to the moment you saw him.

When you stand up, staring at your rigid body in the plastic mirror above the sink, you’re pained at the sight. You look tired, shoulders tense and eyes bleary. Stray beads of the cool water stick to your skin, refusing to dry in the lingering humidity, balling up together to drip into the open lip of your shirt. You can barely feel it falling over your chest before being soaked up by the material. You feel outside yourself.

Someone starts to knock at the door, a quick and invasive interruption to the moment of absolute panic you’d been enjoying. You managed to twist the lock shut on the door at least, so you click your heel against the tile in a wordless someone’s in here, but the knocking persists. 

“Occupied.” You try, wet hands slipping against the edge of the sink. This shit isn’t normal. None of that even comes close to normal. 

Still, the heavy thrum against the hollow metal continues, and you take a deep breath before practically ripping it out from the socket of its frame. When you have it open, Ian’s posed between the V of the slot, face bewildered. 

“Really, truly, I love you, but what the fuck was that?” 

───────

Four days from the start of spring break, you’re out at some stranger’s place off Maple, invited by both Ian and your roommate—making it a little harder to get out of—in a joint, well-intentioned attempt to make you leave the safety of your room. A party will be nice, they’d explained, nothing serious, and a week off’s supposed to be fun, right? 

The house is pretty, but whoever owns it has demanded everyone remain out on the cobblestone patio, uneven flooring making for a jagged line of bodies packed too tight to fit. 

A fire burns in the middle of the yard, billowing out puffs of smoke you know will linger in your clothes for at least two washes. You swipe at some soot that's gathered in the bowl of your jacket sleeve absentmindedly. There’s no music tonight, maybe because there’s real school tomorrow—the elementary school down the street not quite on the same schedule—and you start to think going out on weeknights is quickly becoming more your speed. There's just the soft blanket of everyone murmuring, trying to stay warm in the chill of the wind. 

Ian’s prepping some guy across the fire to meet you; you can tell by the look on his face, like he’s planning something elaborate. You smile at him, at least amused by his effort to help you forget the weekend. He’s right, it is spring break, and Joel is nothing but a consequence of your stress-induced impulsivity. 

Still, despite your efforts, you’re thinking about him again, even if to punish him. You can still feel the line of his cock against your thigh, pressed hot and heavy into your body like an offering. You rub your thighs together, cursing him for giving you enough material to fantasize about for weeks—your punishment in return.

Ian crosses the circle with your new prospect, and you tilt your cup in mock cheers. Behind him he mouths hot and nice, tell me what you think. You nod, and the guy steps forward to block the flame. He’s handsome, airbrushed face and sweet cologne and long, thin fingers, nothing like how someone else’s had felt at the junction of your hips. 

You swallow, hard.

You honestly don’t hear a word that comes out of his mouth from the second it opens, not even to catch his name. Instead, you think about how nice it’d be if you could pay attention, how much easier it would be to fuck someone you thought was nice and safe and not at the forefront of every free moment you’d been afforded in the last two-and-a-half weeks. About what a relief it would be for him to mount and rut into you without consequence—no emotional burden, just boring and lukewarm like the last bite of something you can’t find a place to throw away. It’s always been easier when you didn’t want more. Yet now you want every night, hold out a hand in your dreams and let him into the part of you that has already carved out a hole in his shape. 

This guy couldn’t pull your mind off of Joel even if he was fucking you. 

When he offers to grab you a drink, you agree and then head into the house, like you’re not supposed to, as soon as his back is turned. There’s a few locked doors, and then one at the end of a hallway that opens up into a bathroom. You slip in, not bothering to switch on the light in an attempt to hide out from being found.

Here you are searching for reason in a dirty mirror above another sink, with nothing but the weak glow of a plug-in air freshener to guide you, too soon after the last time. 

You’re angry, suddenly, at how far he’s burrowed himself into your head, with so little to go on. He’s doing nothing but showing you yourself, a tired tactic to get you to fall in love with him while you do all the work. He was just pretending, right? He couldn’t actually want to love you. You groan, when the fuck was love even part of this equation?

You dig your phone out of your purse. The lock screen is bright—bold lettering reminding you it’s nearly midnight—but you click into your contacts anyway, because it’s not like you’re going to call him or anything. His page is still open, the Texas area code populating under Joel - Ellie’s dad—typed out with caps and all like that’s his only meaningful identifier. You scroll to see where he’d punched in ‘just in case‘ in the notes section of his info-card, and that decimates the cliff of restraint you'd barely managed, sinking in on itself under you.  

Your hands are wet with unease, held hostage by the way he’d read your thoughts out loud. You did feel it too, that searing weight of knowing—of being acquainted with him despite only meeting once before. He had to have been honest in at least that confession. You ask yourself for permission—‘was he going through this as well? what exactly was he feeling? would he explain if you asked?’—until it turns into selling yourself justification—‘you could just fuck him, right? that’s all this has to be, right?’.

Yes, you decide. Just another test of will—you can do it. You can pass. 

Your finger hovers over the number, closing the screen and opening it again and again and again until you just bite the bullet and fucking press it, the screen going black as you shove it against the side of your ear, covered again in darkness. 

He picks up within two rings. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi. Joel,” You offer him your name like a secret, “It’s me. Did I wake you up?”

“No, sweetheart. Are you okay?” 

“Can I come see you?”

[kyleoreillylover]

Chapter 5- Cracks

Series Summary/Masterlist

warnings: wrestling related violence, manipulation, mentions of cheating (kinda??), allusions to smut

word count: 15,700

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01

Chapter Summary: Jey finds out what Sami did… and things go about as well as you’d expect. Tensions are rising, arguments are spreading, and everyone can see that unity in is crumbling and the cracks are starting to show in the Bloodline. After a blow up- Roman puts the responsibility on your shoulders as his right-hand woman to take care of it by sending you, Jey and Sami to Monday Night Raw and gives you two tasks- make Jey and Sami become cordial with one another, and show everyone the Bloodline is not weak, or else he will punish you. But that’s easier said than done.

a/n: one of the hardest chapters I ever wrote, cause I love samijey and I hate making them argue. Hope ya’ll enjoy this!!

You woke up to loud knocking on your hotel room door. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, the events of the previous night rushing back to you. The knocking continued, more urgent this time.

"Y/N, open up!" Your brain slowly registered it as Jey’s voice. “Baby!”

You groaned, half-asleep, and stumbled towards the door. As you opened it, you saw a very concerned Jey, who was holding an assortment of breakfast foods. Your eyes softened at the sight, but he was gonna have to do more than bring breakfast to make you forgive him.

“Baby…” Jey drawled as he took in your appearance. Though tired, you still looked bea utiful to him. His gaze softened as he reached out to cup your cheek, but you moved back out of his reach. The unresolved tension from the previous night lingered between you two.

“Solo told you where my room was, I’m guessing.” You let Jey in the room, where he placed the tray on the table, watching as you went to the bathroom to freshen up. The silence in the room was palpable.

When you came back, your suitcases were neatly packed next to your bed, with Jey zipping them up. Your heart swelled at the gesture, and swelled again when he sat up and looked at you with sincerity.

"Y/N, I know I messed up. I shouldn't have left you without a room, and I definitely shouldn't have made you feel like you not part of the family” Jey hesitantly hovered his hands over your shoulders before gripping them gently, silently celebrating the fact you let him touch you.

"I'm sorry," Jey continued, sincerity in his eyes. "I should've handled things differently. I was just mad at Sami and… I let that cloud my judgment."

You sighed, torn between your frustration and the genuine remorse in Jey's eyes. The breakfast tray served as a peace offering, and you knew he was genuinely sorry. You softly grabbed his hands that were on your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of his apology.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have agreed to stay in Sami's room, and I shouldn't have ran away from our conversation. I'm sorry for worrying you." You looked up into his eyes and saw a hint of anger at Sami's name, that washed away with mixture of relief and gratitude as he stared at you.

"So I guess we both made mistakes, huh?" Jey joked, a genuine warmth returning to his eyes.

You nodded, the tension slowly dissipating. "Yeah, we did. But we can learn from them and do better, right?"

Jey nodded back at you with a smile, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How about next time we get an argument, we kiss until we forget what we were arguing about?" Jey suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, "Is that your solution to everything?"

"It might work," Jey replied with a playful smirk.

"How about we try it right now?" You asked with a grin, and Jey smiled back, closing the distance between you two.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as Jey's lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The unspoken tension that lingered from the events of the previous night began to fade, replaced by a renewed connection.

After the kiss, Jey held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a comforting embrace. "I love you, Y/N. I don't want anything to come between us."

"I love you too, Jey. Let's just focus on us and move forward," you replied, feeling a sense of relief that the air had cleared between you two.

You were debating on telling him about what happened last night, but he looked so happy, and you didn't want to ruin the moment, didn't want to argue in the morning when you just woke up, and didn't want the hotel calling the cops if Jey barged into Sami's room and beat the living daylights out of him. You decided to wait for the right moment, choosing to enjoy the peace between you and Jey for now.

"You okay, baby?" Jey noticed you looking thoughtful, concern evident in his eyes.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I'm okay. Let's just enjoy this breakfast you brought and the morning together."

Jey grinned, his playful spirit returning. "That's the plan, baby."

Yeah, you could tell him later, you thought to yourself. For now, you decided to savor the moment of reconciliation. What could go wrong?

You walked around the Monday Night Raw arena with an annoyed look on your face, Jey's leather jacket slung over your shoulder. His cologne was the only thing that was calming you down at the moment.

You tried to tell Jey what had happened between you and Sami multiple times today, but it was like every time you tried, something or someone interrupted the conversation. It seemed like the universe was conspiring to keep this secret locked away.

First, it was Jimmy that interrupted your coversation, needing Jey's help with something backstage. Then, you were approached by a WWE staff member with some last-minute changes to Jey's match. And now, as you finally found a quiet moment backstage, someone else appeared.

"Y/N!" Kayla Braxton's voice cut through the backstage chatter, causing you to turn towards her. The annoyance on your face was evident, but Kayla seemed oblivious to it.

"Hey, quick interview before Jey's match?" Kayla held a microphone, a cheerful smile on her face.

You sighed, glancing at the jacket in your hands. "Fine. Make it quick."

Kayla smiled and nodded, moving closer to start the interview. "As the ref for this match, do you think whoever wins will blame you for the outcome-"

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N." Slow claps echoed through the hallway, and you turned to see Charlotte Flair approaching, a smug smirk on her face. You gritted your teeth, not in the mood for her antics.

"Kayla, sweetie, I know you're doing your job, but we have more important matters to attend to." She gave you a condescending glance. "Like, don't you have to go fetch Jey's water or something?"

Your patience wore thin, but you maintained a composed exterior. "Oh I'm sorry, says the person that wasn't even booked for tonight." You shot back, the tension escalating. "The real queen is talking, so how about you go back to catering where you belong."

Charlotte chuckled at your response, seemingly amused by the exchange. "Cute. You have fun with getting in your boys business instead of being a fighting champion. Let me know how that works out for you."

You scoffed at Charlotte's remark. "Excuse me?"

Charlotte smirked at your annoyance. "You heard me. You've been so busy with the Bloodline that you forgot about being a champion. But don't worry, I'll swoop in while you're distracted and take all that extra weight off of you at Survivor Series."

You licked your lips in contemplation, suppressing the urge to escalate the confrontation. "Well, Charlotte, I don't need any advice from someone who constantly jumps from brand to brand. Maybe focus on building a legacy without your daddy instead of looking for shortcuts."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting such a response, but before she could swing back, Sami pushed his way into the conversation out of nowhere, interrupting the escalating tension between you and Charlotte.

"Excuse me Charlotte, but as the Honorary Uce, gotta say, I don't appreciate you interrupting the right hand women's interview. Unless you want not just the wrath of her but of the entire Bloodline, I suggest you find another time to talk trash." Sami's tone was filled with a hint of warning, and he stood in front of you to block your view of Charlotte so you didn't beat her nto next week.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Honorary Uce? What's that even mean? You know, associating yourself with the Bloodline and the errand girl of the Bloodline won't make you a champion, Sami."

Sami chuckled, his confidence unwavering. "Charlotte, let me break it down for you. Being a part of the Bloodline means family, loyalty, and respect. Something you clearly lack. And as for Y/N being the 'errand girl,' she's a champion who knows how to handle her business, unlike some people who just coast on their family name."

You couldn't help but smirk at Sami's retort, appreciating his support. Charlotte, however, looked livid. She moved closer to you, trying to assert dominance.

"Have fun being busy with your boys, and I'll have fun taking that title from you at Survivor Series," Charlotte snarled before storming away, clearly not in the mood for waisting her time with the likes of you and Sami. As she walked away, you couldn't help but roll your eyes, unimpressed by her attempt to rile you up.

Kayla cleared her throat to get your attention, and tried to continue the interview, but you held up a hand to stop her. Your focus shifted to Sami, who had a smirk on his face that dropped when you glared at him.

"If you are trying to get brownie points before your match, then you're doing a terrible job of it." You shot Sami a stern look, annoyed at the way he had barged into your confrontation with Charlotte, and just annoyed at him in general.

Sami's face dropped and he held up his hands defensively. "I wasn't trying to interrupt anything, I was just standing up for you. You're the one who's always talking about handling business, and Charlotte needed a reality check."

You huffed, glancing back at the leather jacket still draped over your shoulder. "Well, next time, don't. I can handle my own business, Sami. Go get ready for your match." With that, you turned away from Sami, Kayla, and the whole situation. You marched down the hallway, frustration bubbling within you. The interference during your attempts to talk to Jey, the unexpected encounter with Charlotte, and now Sami butting in – it was all too much, and you took your anger out on Sami.

As you walked away, you heard Sami call after you, "Y/N, wait!" but you didn't stop. You walked to the Bloodline's locker room to change into your ref outfit. You smiled at Solo, who was the only one in the room, but he could see right through your frustration. Solo raised an eyebrow, curious about what had happened, gesturing for you to sit next to him.

You sighed and dropped Jey's leather jacket onto a nearby chair. Solo looked at you with a searing gaze, silently urging you to share what was bothering you.

You looked around to make sure that no one else was in earshot before finally opening up to Solo. "Sami kissed me."

Solo's eyes widened in surprise, and he sat up straight, fully engaged in the conversation. "When?" A man of few words, he raised an eyebrow, prompting you to continue.

"Last night." You replied, frustration evident in your voice. "In his room. We were talking about the past, and he kissed me! I told him I just wanna stay friends, and I don't want things to get complicated. But today, he acted like nothing happened, and every time I tried to talk to Jey about it, something or someone interrupted us. It's like the universe doesn't want this secret to come out."

Solo sighed, shaking his head. "Tell Jey." He said simply.

You sighed, appreciating Solo's straightforward advice. "But I don't want to cost him the match. You know how he get's when he is mad. Then this entire thing won't end. I just want him and Sami to get along." You groaned and put your head into your hands.

Unbeknownst to the 2 of you, Jey was standing in front of the locker room, the door slightly creaked open allowing him to hear your conversation. He didn't plan on eavesdropping, he went to find you, but then he heard you speak Sami's name and he couldn't help himself.

He gritted his teeth as he listened to the revelation about Sami kissing you and your frustration with the situation. He fucking knew it! Knew Sami was tryna make a move on you.

The anger boiled within him, not just at Sami but also at the situation. He considered barging in, confronting both of you, but something held him back – a desire to hear the whole story, to understand your perspective before letting his emotions take over. He needed to hear one last thing before he made his decision.

"Did you kiss him back?" He heard Solo ask.

Jey held his breath as he waited for you to respond. "No, Solo! I pushed him away!"

Jey made his decision. He walked away from the door and made his way to the ramp, where he convicnelty ran into Sami.

"Sami!!" Sami popped his head out at his name being called, looking a bit surprised to see Jey.

His face dropped at the look on Jey's, but he had no time to defend himself before Jey's fist was flying towards him. Sami sprawled to the ground, and fists were flying as the two men engaged in a heated brawl.

The backstage area erupted into chaos as personnel rushed to separate the two superstars. Jey's eyes were ablaze with anger, fueled by a mix of betrayal and frustration.

"I told you not to push up on my girl!" Jey shouted as he threw another punch at Sami, his emotions getting the better of him.

Sami, on the defensive, tried to reason with Jey amid the chaos. "Jey, listen! It's not what you think! I'm sorry! It was a mistake" Sami pleaded, attempting to deflect some of the punches.

"A mistake that you'll pay for!" Jey roared, his anger unabated. The chaotic brawl continued, with both men exchanging blows, oblivious to the attempts of the personnel trying to break up the fight that went all the way from the ramp to the ring, both of them rolling into the ring, still locked in a fierce struggle. The audience, initially bewildered, erupted into a mix of shock and excitement as they witnessed the unexpected brawl.

You overheard the commotion and rushed to the scene. As you reached the ring, you saw Jey and Sami still entangled in their brawl. Solo followed closely behind you, concern etched on his face.

"Ring the fucking bell!" You shouted to the crew member that was standing near the ring. The bell rang, and you moved inside the ring, and as ref tried to separate the men that were brawling in the corner, but it was like trying to part two wild animals in the midst of a territorial dispute.

"Get out of the fucking corner!" You tried to pull Sami off of Jey, and finally managed to push him off. Jey was heaving with anger, and when his eyes locked on yours, he was a storm of conflicting emotions. You could see hurt, betrayal, and a simmering anger, and knew he knew that Sami kissed you.

"I told you that fucking fool would try something!" Jey seethed, pushing you aside as he charged back at Sami. The chaos ensued, with both men trying to beat the hell out of each other.

You let it play out unless they went to the corner or out of the ring. They needed to let out their pent up anger, but you were also worried about Roman. He said they need to solve their differences after this match, but anyone with half a brain can tell that wouldn't happen.

Punches were thrown. Bodies were slammed into the mat. Kicks were delivered with intensity. They avoided hitting you, whenever they went close to you they both stopped to avoid hurting you, then the other person would take advantage of the momentary stoppage, then the cycle would repeat again, and the other person would take advantage this time.

Solo stood at ringside, watching the brawl with a stern expression. He knew the depth of the situation, and it pained him to see the chaos that had erupted. The Bloodline was not supposed to turn on each other like this.

Things really picked up when Sami tossed Jey out of the ring and went for a suicide dive. Jey, however, managed to counter, catching Sami in mid-air and slamming him onto the ringside floor. The impact resonated through the arena, and the audience was in a frenzy.

You, still in your referee role, desperately tried to regain control of the situation.

"Get back in the ring, both of you!" you yelled, but neither Jey nor Sami paid any attention. Fed up, you slipped out of the ring and approached them, and Jey was slamming the steel steps onto Sami. You stepped in front of the chaos, getting between Jey and Sami.

"Enough, or I will disqualify both of you!" You shouted, trying to appeal to their sense of reason. Jey, breathing heavily, turned to you and eyed you with a mix of anger and frustration.

"Move, Y/N," he growled, not wanting you to get hurt, and you slightly stumbled back at his tone, giving him enough room to continue his assault. The chaos continued, and you could feel the tension escalating with each passing moment.

Sami tried to get inside the ring to escape Jey's assault, and Jey followed him, but he ended up pushing you onto the floor in the process because of how fast they were both moving. You groaned as you hit the floor, momentarily stunned by the impact. Both men froze for a moment before Sami tried to check on you. "Y/N, I'm sorry, let me help y-"

A slam rang through the arena as Jey, with a burst of rage, grabbed Sami by the hair and tossed him into the ring. The anger was bursting even more now at the sight of you on the floor. Jey didn't care about the match, the consequences, or anything else in that moment. He was fueled by a combination of betrayal and a burning desire to protect you.

"See what you fucking did?" Jey roared, looking at Sami with a fire in his eyes.

"You're the one who pushed Y/N," Sami retorted, staggering to his feet and dodging a punch from Jey. The match had turned into an all-out brawl, and any semblance of a structured contest was lost in the chaos.

Solo helped you up, and you slipped back into the ring, trying to assert some control over the situation. The Bloodline was falling apart right before everyone's eyes, and you were at the center of it.

You could barely watch as they put each other in submission holds and made the other yell in pain. Sami had Jey in a crossface, and the tension in the arena was palpable. Solo stood at ringside, watching the chaos unfold with a grim expression. The once-unified Bloodline was tearing itself apart.

"I'm sorry, Jey!" Sami gasped out, his voice strained. "I'm fucking sorry, okay? I didn't mean to do this, any of this!"

Jey, caught in the hold, grimaced in pain, but his expression softened just a fraction at Sami's apology. But that expression hardened again when he glanced at you, who could barely stand to see the turmoil in front of you.

Before Jey could do anything, you grabbed Sami's leg and forcefully pulled him off of Jey, breaking the submission hold. The chaos continued, and both men were now visibly exhausted, their bodies battered and bruised from the intense brawl.

Sami slowly stood up and looked at you in disbelief as you pulled him off, giving him an angry look. This entire night was getting on your fucking nerves.

"I was about to end this entire thing, Y/N! For Roman!" Sami softly pleaded, still trying to make sense of the chaos. You shot him a glare that could cut through steel, not interested in his justifications at the moment.

"I am so fucking sick of this drama, Sami," you snapped, the frustration evident in your voice. "Both of you need to get your act together, or Roman's going to tear us all apart. We had one job – to prove that the Bloodline could stick together. Look at what's happening!"

Sami tried to reach out to you, his eyes pleading for understanding, but you pushed him away. He pleaded his case to you. "Y/N, please. I need to finish this for Roman. Don't get involved. I don’t want you getting hurt."

The two of you continued arguing, not noticing Jey standing up and making his way towards the both of you until his foot was readying for a super kick to Sami.

In a split second, you knew that if Jey hit Sami with it and got the pin on him, it would lead to nothing. A winner would lead to nothing, it would only escalate the chaos and deepen the divide within the Bloodline.

So with a surge of adrenaline, you quickly pushed Sami out of the way, taking the full impact of Jey's super kick yourself. The crowd gasped as you crumpled to the mat, the pain radiating through your body.

Jey's eyes widened in shock and horror as he realized what he had just done. He dropped to his knees beside you, panic etched across his face.

"Y/N, I… I didn't mean to…" He turned to Sami, who was making his way to you, the same concern on his face, and that anger came back full force. "This is your fault," Jey growled at Sami, the tension between them reaching a boiling point.

All you could hear were muffled sounds, the bell ringing, and the chaos around you. Pain throbbed in your head, and you didn't know how long you were down.

It felt like you were flying, and you slowly opened your eyes and realized Solo was carrying you on your shoulders. You gently squeezed his shoulders, which made him speak up.

"Relax, Y/N." He calmly told you. You tried to listen to him but you looked up and saw Jey and Sami still fighting, Jimmy trying to break up the chaos. Roman, who had just arrived, was visibly furious.

The Bloodline was falling apart, and everyone knew it, and would try to take advantage of their weaknesses. Solo carried you backstage, trying to get you away from the escalating situation.

Things were defiently not going to end well.

"I give you all one job." You held the ice to your head and breathed out nervously as Roman circled the locker room, his eyes focused on each member of the Bloodline.

The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the aftermath of the chaotic match still lingered.

You gently caressed Jey's back, and internally sighed when he let out a sigh and leaned into your touch. Solo stood nearby, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"One job, I gave you all. To prove to everyone that the Bloodline could stick together, that we were a united front," Roman continued, his voice low and seething with frustration. "But what do I get instead? Chaos, brawls, and a complete breakdown in the ring. Is this how we represent the Bloodline?"

No one dared to speak. The tension in the room was palpable, and all eyes were on Roman. You could feel Jey's muscles tensing beneath your touch, and Solo's stoic expression didn't waver.

Roman's gaze finally landed on you, and you felt a chill run down your spine. "I told you to handle this, Y/N. I told you to make sure they stay in line. Instead, I get a fucking circus in the ring. And you…" he pointed at Jey, "you Superkicked your own ref? What the hell were you thinking?"

Jey opened his mouth to speak, but Roman cut him off with a stern look. "I don't want to hear it right now."

Roman then turned to Sami, who nervously darted his eyes back and forth between Roman and Jey. "I told you to end his stupid rivalry with Jey. Did you think this was the solution? I told you guys to have a match, not to turn my ring into a battleground."

Sami stammered, trying to find the right words, but Roman wasn't in the mood for excuses. "You both failed me tonight," Roman continued, his disappointment evident in his voice. "Didn't they, Paul?"

Paul, who had been standing in the corner, stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern, pity, and calculation. "Indeed, Roman. Tonight's events were… unforeseen, to say the least. But I believe we can address the issues at hand and ensure this doesn't happen again."

Roman nodded, his gaze returning to the three of you. "You're damn right we will. I told you there would be consequences if you couldn't handle this. I'm not gonna let my empire crumble because you all can't get your shit together."

Roman started laughing , but it was a humorless, cold laugh that sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in the room seemed to grow, and even Jey, who usually stood his ground, looked uneasy.

Roman's laughter subsided, and he fixed his gaze on each of you in turn. "Here's what's going to happen. We settle this within the family."

He turned to you, a stern expression on his face. "You will be going to Monday Night Raw to sort out this Charlotte, and I want these two,"

He turned to Jey and Sami, who were nervously shifting their weight, "To accompany you. The three of you will head to Raw and represent the Bloodline as a unified force, and you will get along. Y/N, as my right hand women, I expect you to ensure that they fall in line. I won't tolerate any more disruptions or embarrassments. This is your chance to prove that the Bloodline is a force to be reckoned with, not a group that crumbles under pressure. This is your responsibility."

Roman stared at Jey and Sami with a piercing gaze, making it clear that there was no room for failure. "Since ya'll wanna fight over her, if you guys can't handle a simple task together, then you'll have something to fight about for real. Cause if you mess up, it's not on you two. It's on Y/N, and I know neither of you want that on your conscience."

Roman didn't want to use you as bait, but he needed to if Jey and Sami were to listen to him. The weight of responsibility settled on your shoulders as Roman's words echoed in the room. You felt the eyes of both Jey and Sami on you, burning through the thick air. You took a deep breath, meeting Roman's gaze with determination.

"I understand, Roman. I'll make sure things go smoothly on Monday Night Raw. We'll represent the Bloodline as a united front," you affirmed, your voice steady despite the unease in the room.

Roman nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Good. You know what's at stake, Y/N. Don't let me down. Solo, Jimmy, let's go clean up their mess."

Jimmy shot you a sympathetic look, and Solo nodded in agreement, his eyes briefly meeting yours. As Roman led them out of the locker room, you turned to Jey and Sami, both still guiltily avoiding eye contact.

"Guys." Both men looked up at your voice, their eyes meeting yours with a mix of guilt, frustration, and uncertainty. "Let's go. Jey, we're gonna talk at the hotel. Grab your stuff, and meet me outside in ten minutes, I need to talk to someone. Sami, get ready too, I'll get the valet for you."

You didn't think it was smart to have both of them in the same car after everything that just happened. They gazed at each other, silently glaring at each other before turning back and nodding at you. "Don't kill each other while I'm gone." With that, you left the locker room, the weight of the task ahead settling heavily on your shoulders.

Jey and Sami watched as you disappeared from the locker room, leaving them alone with their thoughts. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken tension and the weight of Roman's expectations. Jey sighed, running a hand through his hair, while Sami shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"So, we're supposed to go to Raw together and act like a happy family?" Jey muttered, breaking the silence. Sami shot him a sideways glance, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Look, I am sorry for kissing Y/N." Sami started, regret evident in his voice and expression on his face.

"Oh really?" Jey sarcastically raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with skepticism. "You wasn't sorry when you was tryna lock lips with her."

"Yeah, I was! As soon as I realized what I did, I felt like crap. It wasn't intentional, Jey. You have to believe me-"

"I ain't believing shit! The only reason I ain't knock your teeth out right now is cause Roman told us not to mess this up any further. But make no mistake, Sami, I don't trust you an inch."

Sami sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation and knew he had to make it right. "Jey, I was jealous."

Jey blinked at him, the anger giving away to surprise at the admission. "Jealous? Of what?"

Sami hesitated for a moment before answering, "Of what you have with her. I see the way she looks at you, and I wanted that. We used to be close, and I saw you with her, and I just wanted that connection back. And you hated my guts, so I thought that if I could get close to her, maybe I could bridge the gap between us, and you would realize I just wanted to be accepted into the family, but I screwed up big time by letting my emotions get the best of me. I wasn't trying to get her, I promise you. That was never my intention when I first tried to join.

But that night, it felt like everything was falling apart, and I let my emotions cloud my judgment and make me cross a line." Sami stood up, grabbing his stuff, not daring to look at Jey's face. "I know what it's like to get cheated on, trust me. And I know how it hurts, and I know it must be hurting you right now, and I never wanted to make you feel like that. I genuinely am sorry, Jey."

Jey remained silent for a moment, processing Sami's words. The tension in the room seemed to lessen slightly, but it was far from resolved. Jey didn't respond, and Sami didn't know if he was gearing up for a fight or was processing what he heard. Sami sighed and zipped up his suitcase.

"Y/N is an amazing woman, wrestler, and friend. But most importantly, she's your girl. And I respect that. I know you still hate my guts, but I'm willing to make things right, not just for Roman but for the sake of the Bloodline. And you won't be besties with me, but at least pretend to be cordial for Y/N. We don't want her to get hurt for what we did."

Sami's words hung in the air as Jey continued to stare at him, a mixture of anger, distrust, and contemplation in his eyes.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, Jey spoke, his tone stern. "You right. We gotta do this for her. But don't think for a second that we friends, Sami. We're gonna do this for Y/N and for the Bloodline, and if you wanna try anything funny, I won't hesitate to handle it my way."

Sami nodded, accepting Jey's terms without protest. "Fair enough, Jey. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right. For the Bloodline and for you."

Jey furrowed his brows at the last sentence but didn't press further. Did Sami actually mean what he said, or was it just another attempt to smooth things over? The air in the room remained tense as both men prepared to leave for Raw, uncertain of what the future held for their uneasy alliance.

They left the room, heading towards the exit, both of them looking uneasy at being next to the other. They quickly spotted you on the phone, your bag slung over your shoulder, talking to someone in hushed whispers.

You saw them coming and said your goodbyes and shut off your phone, turning your attention to Jey and Sami. The tension in the air was palpable as you motioned for them to follow you outside.

As you walked through the corridors, you could feel the eyes of other wrestlers on you, curious about the aftermath of the chaotic match and Roman's stern words. The three of you stepped outside, the cool night air offering a brief respite from the intensity of the arena.

"On Monday, we need to show the world that the Bloodline stands strong," you began, your voice firm. "We might not be perfect, but we have each other's backs. You take out all tag teams that pose a threat, and I'll deal with Charlotte. Roman is counting on us, and we can't afford to let him down."

Jey and Sami exchanged glances before nodding in eluctant agreement, their eyes avoiding each other. The weight of Roman's expectations hung heavy over all of you, and you sighed as you felt the responsibility of holding the Bloodline together. You took a moment to lock eyes with both Jey and Sami, a silent understanding passing between you.

"Whatever happened tonight, we leave it behind us. We focus on Monday Night Raw and showing everyone that the Bloodline is unbreakable," you emphasized, your tone unwavering.

Jey didn't respond, and Sami nodded, seemingly committed to putting aside their differences for the sake of the family. You nodded, and Sami's valet pulled up.

No words were needed to understand the tension between you guys. Sami understood that, and simply waved goodbye at you as he headed towards his car. You and Jey were left alone in the parking lot, surrounded by the dim glow of overhead lights.

Jey sighed, running a hand through his hair, and turned to you as you walked to your car. You didn't say anything, simply opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. Jey would talk when he wanted to, and not a moment sooner.

Jey hesitated for a moment before getting into the passenger seat, and the car engine roared to life. The drive to the hotel was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sighs and the distant sounds of the city outside.

As you pulled into the hotel parking lot, the weight of the night seemed to settle even heavier on your shoulders. You parked the car, and Jey remained silent, lost in his thoughts. The atmosphere inside the vehicle felt tense, and the air was thick with unresolved issues.

You turned off the engine, and the two of you went inside the hotel, the only sounds between you eing the distant hum of the lobby's air conditioning and the muffled conversations of hotel staff. The tension seemed to follow you both as you approached the front desk to check in.

The hotel room keys were handed over, and you silently made your way to your room. Jey didn't talk as you both went inside the room, the door closing behind you. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast shadows across the walls, adding to the uneasy atmosphere.

Jey went to the bathroom, not sparing you a glance, and you sighed as you heard running water a few minutes later. You needed to apologize to him, stewing in anger wouldn't help the situation. Taking a deep breath, you decided to go inside the bathroom.

The heat hit your face as you walked inside, seeing Jey's shadow through the shower curtains. You stripped yourself of your clothes, leaving just your thoughts and vulnerability.

The steam from the shower enveloped you as you went inside the shower, the water hitting your skin like a cascade of relief. Jey turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You could see the tension in his shoulders, and his eyes met yours in the misty enclosure.

"Jey," you began, the water cascading over both of you, "I'm sorry." Jey didnt respond, and you grabbed the soap and lathered it onto his back, his back, a gentle touch to break through the walls he had built.

Your fingers traced the tension in his muscles as you continued, "I'm sorry for not telling you Sami kissed me. I promise you, I was but then every time I tried to something interrupted us. But that is no excuse. He kissed me, I pulled away, and told him that it was wrong. I didn't want to hide it from you, and I should've found a way to tell you before it all escalated."

Jey remained silent, his gaze fixed on the shower tiles. The water continued to cascade over both of you, the tension in the air still palpable.

"I know you must be hurting, and I don't blame you for being angry," you continued, your voice gentle. "I just want you to understand that I never wanted to betray you. Sami made a mistake, and I made a mistake in not telling you sooner. I was scared of hurting you, of costing you the match if you got angry. But I realize now that keeping it from you only made things worse."

You gently rubbed Jey's shoulders, trying to soothe the tension in his muscles. "I promise you, I pushed him off of me, and I made it clear that it wasn't something I wanted or welcomed. I'm committed to you, Jey. You're the one I care about, and I don't want anything to come between us."

Jey finally turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours. The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, and you could see a mixture of hurt, anger, and vulnerability in his eyes. The silence lingered, the sound of the water providing a backdrop to the unspoken exchange between the two of you.

"I should've told you, and I'm sorry for that," you continued, your voice sincere. "I understand if you need time, if you're angry. But please, Jey, don't leave me hanging on Raw. I know I act like an independent woman, but I need you by my side. I can't handle things without you. I love you." You grabbed the shower head and washed off the soap from your bodies, your eyes never leaving Jey's.

Jey sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release some of the tension in the air. He reached for the shampoo and started to wash his hair, still silent. The water continued to fall around you, creating a cocoon of intimacy within the small space of the shower.

"I am with you right now. You're the one showering with me, not Sami. You're the one that has my heart, not Sami. You're the one that I came to when I needed someone to talk to, not Sami." You reassured Jey, your words sinking into the mist-filled enclosure.

Jey processed your words, letting you wash off the remants of the soap from his body. You couldn't read his face like you usually could, and held your breath as you waited for his response.

After a moment of silence, Jey finally spoke, his voice low and measured. "Turn around."

You complied, and let your muscles relax as he rubbed your back with the soap, his touch gentle yet firm. The warmth of the water and Jey's presence created a sense of intimacy that started to melt away the tension between you. The atmosphere shifted, becoming more tender and understanding.

"I ain't saying I'm not pissed," Jey admitted, his voice a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "I am. You shoulda been come to me when this happened."

He softly massaged the soap into your skin, his touch a silent acknowledgment of the apology. "But I ain't gonna let this mess up what we got. I trust you when you said you ain't trying to play games with Sami. I know when you lying, and you ain't lying now."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, relieved that Jey seemed willing to work through the situation.

The water continued to pour over both of you, a soothing rhythm that matched the softening of the atmosphere as he washed the soap off of you. "But we gotta communicate better. I aint want no secrets between us. No more hiding stuff, Y/N. We gotta be honest with each other, even if it's hard, and even if it hurts."

He turned you around, and his eyes met yours, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze that struck your heart. "I love you, and I don't want anything to jeopardize that," Jey concluded, his words a mix of sincerity and a lingering frustration.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. Jey was spilling his heart out to you, and you appreciated his honesty, knowing how hard it was for him to open up.

You gently cupped Jey's face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. "I love you too, Jey. And you're right. No more secrets, no more hiding. We face everything together. I promise you, I'm here for you, and I'm not going anywhere."

For the first time all night, Jey cracked a smile, a genuine, heartfelt smile that melted away the remaining tension in the room. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, reassuring kiss.

The warmth of the shower, the sound of water, and the intimacy between the two of you created a moment of connection that spoke louder than words.

As you pulled away, Jey rested his forehead against yours, his eyes locked with yours. "Promise me you won't keep things from me again," he murmured, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at your heart.

"I promise, Jey. No more secrets. We are honest with each other, no matter how much it hurts," you affirmed, sealing the promise with a gentle kiss. The weight of the night slowly lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of unity and understanding.

With the tension eased and the promise made, you both continued to share the shower, not just washing away the physical remnants of the chaotic night but also cleansing the emotional residue that lingered between you.

When Jey went to turn off the water, you stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. "Let me," you whispered, taking over the task. As you turned off the water, the room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound remaining the soft drip of water from your bodies until you lowered yourself to your knees, making Jey raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and curiosity.

You looked up at him with a mischievous smile. "I think I need to properly ap ologize to you for everything that happened tonight," you replied, your eyes meeting his with a playful glint.

Jey chuckled, his tension further dissipating as he realized what you were doing. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

You steadied yourself with your hands on Jey's legs, looking up at him through hooded eyes, waiting for his consent. "Well, Mr. Uso, actions speak louder than words."

Jey's expression shifted from surprise to a sly grin. "I like the sound of that," he replied, his eyes filled with a playful glint.

You leaned in, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his thighs, gradually making your way up. The steam from the shower enveloped both of you, creating an intimate atmosphere. Jey's hands found their way into your hair, his fingers gently intertwining as he let out a low sigh.

"You ready for your apology, Mr. Uso?" you teased, your voice a soft whisper against his skin.

Jey smirked, his eyes locked onto yours. "Apology accepted in advance," he replied, a playful tone in his voice.

Let's just say, he accepted your apology multiple times that night.

THE BLOODLINE INVADES MONDAY NIGHT RAW

The engine shut off as the cheauffer took the key's out of the sleek black SUV you, Jey. and Sami were escorted in on your way to the arena Raw was behind held.

The atmosphere inside the car was still thick with tension between Jey and Sami, who you were sitting between. You could feel the awkwardness radiating from both men as they avoided making direct eye contact.

The drive to the arena had been silent, but their tension wasn't. It was like every little thing that Sami did made Jey more irritated, and vice versa. If Sami even breathed too loudly, you could sense Jey's annoyance. If Jey even shifted in his seat, you could feel Sami's discomfort. The air in the car seemed to echo with the unspoken words, and you knew that the real challenge lay ahead when you stepped into the arena.

As the car came to a stop, the tension heightened. The driver opened the door, and the three of you stepped out onto the bustling Raw backstage area.

The familiar sounds of conversations, equipment being moved, and the distant roar of the crowd filled the air. You hid yourselves with hoodies that bore the Bloodline emblem, attempting to shield your presence from prying eyes.

Jey's hand was on your lower back as the three of you made your way towards the locker rooms, the intensity of the situation growing with every step.

"Charlotte is expecting me to attack her, " You whispered to Jey and Sami as you walked through the corridors. "So I'll wait until she get's comfortable, then I'll strike. You two need to take out anyone that poses a threat in the tag team division."

You stopped when you reached the locker room door, turning to face Jey and Sami. Their faces were a mix of determination and lingering unease. You took a deep breath before continuing, your face serious.

"Look, I'm not stupid. I know you guys hate each other. But we can't afford any distractions or mistakes tonight. We're here to show the world that the Bloodline is a force to be reckoned with. So, for the next few hours, put your differences aside and focus on the task at hand, and if you don't want to do if for Roman, at least do it for me?"

At your last words, both Jey and Sami glanced at each other before reluctantly nodding in agreement. The weight of Roman's expectations, combined with the desire to prove themselves and, perhaps, a subtle sense of responsibility towards you, pushed them to at least try to temporarily set aside their differences.

"Y'know I got your back, pretty girl. Even if it's with him." Jey reassured you, his tone a mixture of reassurance and determination.

Sami hesitated for a moment before nodding. "For you, I'll do my part. Are you sure about this plan, though? Waiting for Charlotte might give her an advantage."

You nodded, appreciating Sami's concern. "I've faced her before. I know her patterns, and I know how to play to our advantage. Trust me, it'll work." You opened the door and entered the Bloodline's private locker room, and Jey and Sami followed you inside, the room now filled with the familiar atmosphere of preparation and focus. "I called someone and they agreed to help me."

Sami raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "Who?"

You grinned, enjoying the opportunity to surprise them. "You'll see. In the meantime, you two go to the men's locker room and raise hell there. And NO FIGHTING."

You gave them a glare at your last instruction. Jey sighed but nodded in agreement, and Sami reluctantly agreed as well. The uneasy alliance between Jey and Sami was put to the test as they headed towards the men's locker room, leaving you alone to finalize your plan.

You watched on the TV as Charlotte came out to the ring, mic in hand and cockiness etched on her face. The crowd erupted in cheers and boos as she began to taunt the audience and brag about her dominance in the women's division. You smirked, knowing that the trap was set.

"I know that our little queen Y/N is watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike," Charlotte boasted, her eyes scanning the arena. "But she won't catch me off guard. I'm always one step ahead. And when I take that title from her, she'll finally realize that I AM the true queen of the WWE."

As Charlotte continued her monologue, you slipped out of the Bloodline's locker room, making your way towards the entrance ramp. The plan was in motion, and you were ready to make a statement on behalf of the Bloodline.

You raced to the gorilla, and when she finally put the mic down, her back turned and her guard slightly down, you ran to the ring, the crowds cheers echoing in your ear as you knocked Charlotte down from behind with a fierce clothesline.

The arena erupted in a mix of shock and excitement as you made your way to the ring, the hood of your Bloodline hoodie pulled over your head. The element of surprise was on your side, and the audience roared in approval.

Charlotte, visibly stunned, tried to regain her composure as you beat her down into the corner, punching her over and over, smirking as she tried to fight back.

"Always one step ahead, Charlotte, huh?" You taunted, ducking a wild swing from her. You both ended up slipping out of the ring, hair pulling and brawling on the outside.

You wavered slightly as Charlotte pushed you into the barricade, slowly inching your way into the gorilla. Charlotte smirked as she followed you to the back, unaware of the danger that lurked there.

"Aww, where you going princess?" Charlotte smirked as you turned the corner, leading her into the gorilla position. The production crew and staff scattered as they witnessed the unexpected brawl between you and Charlotte.

As you reached the gorilla position, you suddenly stopped, and Charlotte crashed into you, not expecting the abrupt halt. She tried to steady herself, but a punch from behind made her stumble forward.

As Charlotte turned around, she was met with the sight of none other than Judgement's Day Rhea Ripley, who had agreed to help you in this ambush.

"What's the matter, Charlotte? Surprised to see me?" Rhea smirked, cracking her knuckles. The anticipation in the air was palpable as the two of you circled Charlotte.

Your fist connected with Charlotte's face, and Rhea followed up with a devastating kick to her midsection. The three of you brawled all the way to the women's locker room, the other women trying to clear out of the way as they witnessed the chaotic scene.

Anyone who got in your way was destroyed.

Raquel tried to tug you off of Charlotte, but you slammed her into a nearby equipment crate, leaving her incapacitated for the moment.

Shotzi tried to intervene, but Rhea swiftly intercepted her, locking her in a fierce submission hold and forcing her to tap out.

You laughed as Bianca grabbed you by the waist and tried to pull you away, but a well-timed knee to her gut made her release her grip.

This was your plan all along. Take out Charlotte and anyone else that wanted your title.

You grabbed Bianca and threw her into the locker, and it dented at the impact. The chaos in the women's locker room escalated, with the other Superstars scrambling to get out of the way. Rhea continued her relentless assault on Charlotte, not giving her a moment to breathe.

As the brawl intensified, you grabbed a steel chair from the corner of the locker room, the familiar clang echoing through the chaos.

Adam Pearce, who sat in his office, jumped at the knocking on his door. He opened it to find one of his interns, a nervous expression on his face.

"What?" Adam asked to them, focused on paperwork.

The intern stammered, "Um, sir, there's… there's a situation. Y/N and Rhea Ripley are fighting Charlotte and causing chaos in the women's locker room. It's, uh, it's getting pretty intense."

Adam stood up, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?! Get the security, get everyone down there. I need to handle this immediately. This is not how Raw is supposed to go down." The intern nodded frantically and rushed off to carry out Adam's orders.

Adam tried to rush to the scene, but another intern stopped him, making him groan and say, "What now?"

"Sir, there's a video message from Roman Reigns. He wants you to see it urgently," the intern informed, handing over a tablet. Adam sighed but took the tablet and pressed play. The image of Roman Reigns appeared on the screen, his expression stern.

"Adam, I hope you're handling things on your end because we're taking control on ours. Y/N is doing what needs to be done. This is the Bloodline making a statement, and we won't tolerate anyone trying to interfere with our business. Make sure the show goes on smoothly, and if anyone tries to stop Y/N, they'll have to deal with the consequences. This is our territory, and we're not letting anyone disrupt it. Handle it, Adam."

The message ended, leaving Adam in a mix of frustration and uncertainty. He had to get the situation under control, he was not scared of Roman! Before he could comment on the video, another intern interrupted him. "S-Sir…"

"What now?!" Adam demanded harshly at the intern, irritation evident in his tone.

"Sir, the men's locker room is in chaos too. Jey Uso and Sami Zayn are going at it with other wrestlers, and security is having a hard time containing the situation," the intern explained nervously.

Adam sighed, rubbing his temples. The night was spiraling out of control, and he needed to regain command. "Get all available security to both the men's and women's locker rooms. I want this situation under control immediately, and someone get me a direct line to Roman Reigns."

The live feed faded and turned to Jey and Sami, and the chaos in the men's locker room mirrored the scene in the women's locker room. Jey and Sami, fueled by their personal animosity, unleashed their aggression on anyone who dared to intervene. Bodies crashed into walls, equipment shattered, and the sound of punches echoed through the air.

As Adam scrambled to handle the escalating chaos, you, Rhea, Jey, and Sami continued the onslaught. The chaos spread like wildfire, with the security struggling to contain the situation. Superstars were caught in the crossfire, either trying to break up the fight or getting out of harm's way.

The plan was going perfectly, and the chaos you orchestrated was sending a clear message to everyone on Raw. The Bloodline was not to be underestimated, and anyone who dared to challenge their dominance would face the consequences.

You laughed as security finally pulled you and Rhea off of Charlotte and the rest of the women, and the one's who weren't injured were brawling amongst themselves. The chaos had reached its peak, and the message was loud and clear – the Bloodline was here, and they were to be feared.

As security restrained you and Rhea, you exchanged satisfied glances. Jey and Sami were similarly pulled away from the men's locker room, their faces still filled with animosity. The chaos had subsided, but the tension lingered in the air.

Rhea gave you a knowing look as security was about to lead you to Adam Pearce's office. "You called, I answered. I am a woman of my word, and I expect you to be as well. You owe me, Y/N. See you later."

You smirked at Rhea's comment, recognizing the debt owed after her assistance in executing the chaotic plan. You knew her help would come with a price, but you didn't know if you would regret agreeing to it later.

"You get your title shot whenever you want, Rhea. I promised, and I always keep my word. But cross me, and I guarantee you'll regret it more than you've ever regretted anything before." You winked at her as security guided you down the backstage corridor.

"Let me go, I'm here now!" You pushed the security guard that was guiding you, signaling that you were ready to face whatever consequences awaited you in Adam Pearce's office.

You heard Jey and Sami talking inside, Sami's babbling replaced by Jey's more composed words. As the door swung open, you entered with a defiant swagger.

"And I just really feel like the other guys were the cause of the fight, I mean look at us! Of course they are jealous of us and by now, everyone knows why they should be- Y/N!"

Sami's babbling stopped abruptly as he noticed your entrance and smiled at you, puppy dog eyes and all. Adam Pearce, sitting behind his desk, looked exasperated. Jey, standing beside Sami, looked thankful that you stopped Sami's rambling.

Adam Pearce sighed, rubbing his temples. "What in the hell just happened out there? Chaos erupted on live television, and we've got injured Superstars, a disrupted show, and the entire roster in disarray."

You leaned against the door, maintaining your confident demeanor. "What happened was everyone decided to start disrespecting the Bloodline, and we simply decided to remind them of their place. We're not to be underestimated, and anyone who challenges us will face the consequences. It's as simple as that."

Adam looked like he was on the verge of losing his patience and snapping, and Jey glared at him, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, Adam, you need to get things in order around here. We can't have people thinking they can just cross the Bloodline without repercussions. It ain't our fault if this place needs a wake-up call."

Adam rubbed his temples again, clearly frustrated with the situation. "Wake-up call?"

Sami nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, a wake-up call! I knew you would understand, Pearce. Look, we didn't like disrupting the show, but we needed to. We needed to make a statement, and I'd say it was pretty successful if I do say so myself."

Sami saw this as an opportunity to redirect the blame onto others, and he continued, "We were provoked, Adam. The disrespect was too much, and we had to do something about it. The Bloodline can't just let things slide, you know?"

Adam Pearce leaned back in his chair, glaring at the trio in front of him. "Let things slide?" Pearce darkly chuckled. "You didn't like disrupting the show? I'll give you something you don't like." Pearce stood up, walked around his desk, and faced you, Jey, and Sami.

"Oh, please, Pearce. We both know Roman has your number, and he won't be happy if you make a move against us," you taunted, smirking as you pushed off the door and approached Pearce. Jey and Sami exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that their perceived protection might not be as solid as they thought.

Pearce raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by your attempt at intimidation. "Everyone is telling me how scared I am of Roman Reigns and his so-called Bloodline. But let me make one thing clear: I don't answer to Roman Reigns. I answer to WWE management, and I'm responsible for maintaining order on this show."

Jey stepped forward, not liking how Pearce was talking to you. "You better watch your tone, Pearce. You don't want to find yourself on the wrong side of this."

Adam Pearce chuckled again, seemingly unfazed by the threat. "Oh really?" He mocked your taunts. "I've been dealing with rebellious Superstars for a long time, and none of them scare me. If Roman Reigns thinks he can control this show, he's sorely mistaken."

You, Jey, and Sami exchanged glances, realizing that Adam Pearce wasn't backing down. Sami, trying to salvage the situation, chimed in, "Look, Adam, we get it. You're in a tough spot, and you need to maintain order. But do you really want to risk going against the Bloodline? We're the top dogs here, and it's in your best interest to keep us happy."

Pearce leaned in, his face inches from Sami's. "Well here's my latest decision. You and Jey are going to defend those tag team championships against the team of Kevin Owens and Seth Rollins tonight, since they are the only people YOU DIDN'T INJURE!"

Your smirk turned into a glare at Pearce's announcement. The confident facade that had dominated your demeanor wavered for a moment.

Not Kevin. Fuck, now you wished you had helped Jey and Sami in order to stop the words coming out of Pearce's mouth. Jey and Sami exchanged alarmed glances, realizing that their attempt at intimidation had backfired.

"Wait a minute, Pearce. You can't just—"

Pearce cut off Sami's protest with a stern look. "I can, and I just did. You three wanted chaos, right? Well, now you'll deal with the consequences. The tag team titles will be on the line tonight, and if you're the dominant force you claim to be, prove it in the ring."

You crossed your arms, trying to regain control of the situation. "But Jey and Jimmy are the tag champions, not Sami and Jey. And lucky us, Jimmy isn't here to defend the titles."

Adam Pearce smirked, clearly enjoying the shift in the power dynamic. "Well, I guess you'll have to figure that out. Tonight's match is happening, and if you can't sort out your internal issues, you might find yourselves without those tag team championships."

Jey stepped forward angrily, frustration evident in his face. "You make that shit official and I'ma shove my boot up your white a-"

"Say one more word and I'll have security remove all three of you from the premises," Pearce interrupted with a smirk, his patience clearly worn thin. "I don't care about your threats, and I certainly don't care about the internal dynamics of the Bloodline. If you want chaos, deal with it in the ring tonight. That's my decision, and it's final."

Pearce smirked as Jey tried to attack him, only to be pulled back by you and Sami. Jey glared at Sami when he touched him, but he leaned into your hold, showing restraint for now. Sami, while clearly frustrated, also held back.

You glared at Pearce, seething with anger at the unexpected turn of events. "You can't just make someone who isn't a champ defend the titles. This is ridiculous, Pearce."

Pearce leaned back, crossing his arms. "I just did. You wanted chaos, and chaos you'll get. Either you defend the titles as a unit, or you risk losing them. It's your problem now."

Sami, trying to salvage the situation again, attempted to reason with Pearce. "Look, Adam, we're all professionals here. We can sort this out without putting the titles on the line tonight."

Pearce chuckled, shaking his head. "No, you made your point out there. Now it's time to back it up in the ring. Consider this a lesson in consequences. Now get ready for your match. And I suggest you find a way to work together if you want to remain champions."

You huffed, and in one split second, tried to launch yourself at Pearce, but Jey and Sami held you back. Pearce smirked at the display of frustration. "Save that energy for your boys' match. You might need it."

As security escorted you, Jey, and Sami out of Pearce's office, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Pearce called out for you before you left, "One more thing, Y/N. Since you wanted to start this whole attack by blindsiding Charlotte, I'm making you defend your title against her at Survivor Series. Good luck, you'll need it."

You gritted your teeth at Pearce's parting words, realizing that the chaos you had orchestrated had come back to haunt you.

As you were escorted down the hallway, Jey and Sami exchanged uneasy glances, the angry tension between making you realize the night was gonna be far from easy. The arguments would start soon. 1, 2, 3….

"I fucking knew some shit would happen with yo big mouth Sami!" Jey shouted out, slamming his fist against the wall.

"My mouth?!" Sami gaped at Jey, "You're the one who couldn't control himself out there! If you hadn't tried to attack Pearce, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Me? You're the one who was going off on him. 'We the top dawgs, and it's in your best interest to keep us happy.' Now look at us." Jey rolled his eyes in anger.

Sami glared at Jey. "Oh, please! I was just trying to salvage the situation. You're the one who threatened Pearce first."

"Cause he was talking down to Y/N! I had to step in," Jey retorted, his frustration evident.

"By trying to jump him? That's real smart," Sami scoffed. The tension between the two of them escalated, and it seemed like a powder keg ready to explode.

"Guys." You tried to interject, but your voice barely cut through the escalating argument between Jey and Sami. The heated exchange continued, each blaming the other for the predicament you now found yourselves in.

Jey took a step towards Sami, pointing a finger accusingly. "If you hadn't been running your mouth about being the top dog, we wouldn't have had to deal with this nonsense. Now we've got a match we weren't prepared for."

Sami crossed his arms defensively. "Oh, please. If you hadn't tried to attack Pearce, we could have negotiated our way out of this. But no, you had to go and make things worse."

As their argument reached a boiling point, you felt the frustration building up inside you. This wasn't how you envisioned the aftermath of the chaos you had orchestrated. The unity within the Bloodline was cracking, and you needed to find a way to mend it before things got completely out of hand.

"Enough!" you finally shouted, your voice cutting through the tension. Jey and Sami both turned to look at you, their expressions a mix of anger and frustration. "Arguing won't solve anything. We're in this together, whether we like it or not. Now, we need to figure out how to handle tonight's match and make sure we don't lose those titles."

Jey scoffed, still glaring at Sami. "Easy for you to say, baby. You're not the one who has to defend the tag titles with this loudmouth."

Sami shot back, "Maybe if you could control your temper, we wouldn't be in this mess. But no, you had to play tough guy."

"Says the person that got us into this mess with his constant babbling," Jey retorted, his frustration evident.

"At least I tried to reason with Pearce instead of resorting to violence," Sami argued. "You just did what you do best, which is causing chaos without thinking about the consequences."

"Excuse me? You're the one who couldn't keep your mouth shut during the chaos. We had a plan, and you had to go off script," Jey retorted, the frustration evident in his voice.

Sami rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Like I could've predicted Pearce's reaction. He's on a power trip, and we just happened to be in his way."

You stepped between them, trying to diffuse the tension. "Enough, both of you. We're not helping ourselves by pointing fingers. We need to focus on the match tonight. Jey, Sami, whether you like it or not, you're a team tonight, and we can't afford to lose those titles. So, figure out a way to work together, or you and Jimmy lose those titles, Jey."

Jey and Sami exchanged a begrudging look at your words. Jey didn't want to lose the titles, and Sami didn't want to face the consequences of their impulsive actions or mess up your plan. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on both of them.

"You guys aren't the only ones affected by this. I've got a title defense against Charlotte at Survivor Series now, thanks to Pearce," you added, frustration evident in your tone. "So, we all need to get on the same page, focus on tonight, and then we can deal with the fallout from Pearce's decisions later."

Jey sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Fine, but don't think you the champ, Sami. You just helping me out for now."

Sami rolled his eyes but nodded in reluctant agreement. "I don't need your approval, Uce. Let's just get through tonight, and we can settle our issues later."

Jey stared daggers into Sami's head, but when you grabbed his shoulder and gave him a stern look, he reluctantly backed down. The tension in the air lingered, but there was a temporary ceasefire as you, Jey, and Sami begrudgingly agreed to focus on the immediate challenge ahead.

"Good," you said, a hint of authority in your voice. "Let's go to the locker room, come up with a game plan, and make sure we're on the same page for the match tonight. We can't afford any more slip-ups."

"Of course." Sami nodded, then something struck him, and he stopped and turned to you with a worried look on his face.

"Wait, did he say Kevin?" There was an underlying fear in his voice, and even though you felt it, you didn't show it.

Jey, however, whipped his head at Sami's tone and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, he did. What, you scared your best friend is gonna beat some sense into you?" Jey taunted. "You gon' cost us these titles cause you're scared of facing Owens in the ring?"

Sami scoffed, trying to maintain his composure. "Please, I've beaten Owens before. I'm not scared of him."

Jey got into Sami's face, their faces inches apart. "You better not be. If I lose these titles tonight cause yo ass is scared, we're gonna have a real problem."

Sami pushed Jey away, a defiant look on his face. "I won't be the reason we lose, Uce. You just focus on not losing your cool, and we might get through this."

You intervened again before the tension could escalate further. "Enough, both of you. Save that energy for the match. We'll deal with whatever comes our way. Now let's go to the locker room, strategize, and make sure we're ready for Kevin and Seth tonight."

Jey and Sami sighed but followed you towards the locker room. You knew if they lost tonight, Roman would not only kill them but you as well. As the three of you walked down the hallway, the weight of the upcoming match and the consequences of your actions hung in the air.

"Look, I don't care about your personal issues right now. We need to focus on the match. We're defending the tag titles, and we can't afford any mistakes," you emphasized, looking at both of them sternly.

Jey nodded, a mix of frustration and determination on his face. "I ain't losing these titles because you scared of Kevin. Y/N was best friends with him, but she ain't afraid to face him. You shouldn't be afraid of Owens."

Sami huffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not afraid of Owens. I just didn't expect to face him tonight. But I'll handle it, and we'll retain these titles. Just make sure you keep your temper in check, Jey."

Jey shot Sami a glare but didn't respond. The tension remained palpable as you reached the locker room. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, creating a temporary haven away from prying eyes.

"If you fuck up tonight, Sami, I swear—" Jey started, but you cut him off.

"You guys need to stop fighting and start working together. We don't have the luxury of personal issues right now. Our focus is on defending those tag titles. We can sort out our problems later, but for now, we need to be a cohesive unit in that ring."

Jey and Sami exchanged a reluctant nod, acknowledging the truth in your words. The stakes were high, and the unity within the Bloodline was being put to the test. You took a deep breath, trying to push aside the frustration and tension.

Your phone rang, and you quickly pulled it out of your pocket. The caller ID showed Roman Reigns.

You looked at Jey and Sami, who were now giving you curious glances. "Start strategizing. I'll be back. It's Roman." You left them with that, and slipped out of the room, heading to a quieter area to answer the call from Roman.

"Roman," you greeted as you answered the phone.

"Y/N, why am I hearing that Jey and Sami are defending the tag titles tonight? And that you are defending your title against Charlotte?" Roman's voice was calm, but you could sense an undercurrent of displeasure.

"It's a long story, but things got out of hand, and Adam Pearce made the decision. We're dealing with the aftermath of the chaos we caused," you explained, choosing your words carefully.

"Chaos?" Roman's tone turned slightly more intense. "I told you to make a statement, not puts our titles at risk. What happened?"

You recounted the events that led to the chaos on Raw, the confrontation with Adam Pearce, and the subsequent decision to defend the tag titles. Roman listened in silence, his disapproval palpable even through the phone.

"I'll deal with Pearce, but at no costs can we have those titles lost tonight. Y/N, you need to make sure Jey and Sami get their act together. We can't afford any more missteps."

"I understand, Roman. I'm working on it. We'll do whatever it takes to retain the titles tonight," you assured him.

"You better," Roman replied sternly. "I don't want any weaknesses in the Bloodline. Handle this, and we'll discuss the fallout later."

The call ended, and you took a deep breath, realizing the weight of the responsibility on your shoulders. You couldn't afford to let the Bloodline down, and you needed to ensure that Jey and Sami worked together effectively in the upcoming match.

"Looks like you're having a rough night." You glared at the familiar voice, and turned to see your former best friend Kevin, the man you betrayed to join the Bloodline, standing a few feet away, a smile on his face. His presence only added to the mounting pressure and tension of the situation.

"Nope." You tried to push past him to get back to the locker room, but Kevin stepped in your way. "What do you want, Owens?" you snapped, not in the mood for his smug attitude.

"Just checking in on an old friend," Kevin replied, his tone casual. "And I couldn't help but overhear your conversation about defending the tag titles tonight. Interesting turn of events, isn't it?"

"Yeah, the most interesting thing you've done since I broke your arm. You're welcome, by the way." You snapped at Kevin, the bitterness from your past betrayal still lingering in your words.

Kevin chuckled, seemingly unfazed by your hostility. "Ah, memories. Good times, right? But let's focus on the present. Defending the tag titles with Jey and Sami tonight, huh? How's that going for you?"

You shot him a glare, unamused by his taunts. "You should be thanking me for taking you out of obscurity and giving you TV time. Now, if you'll excuse me." You tried to move past Kevin again, but he stepped in your way once more, his smirk widening.

"Still trying to avoid me after 2 years, huh?" " Kevin asked with a sarcastic tone. "The guilt of betrayal still eating at you, Y/N?"

You clenched your fists, suppressing the anger that threatened to boil over. "I don't have time for your mind games, Kevin. I've got a match to focus on, and unlike you, I don't dwell on the past."

Kevin chuckled, enjoying getting under your skin. "Well, good luck with that match. But we both know Sami is gonna be a liability. He won't hurt me like you want him to. And deep down, I know you don't want him to. You're scared of facing the consequences of your choices."

You shot him a venomous look, your patience wearing thin. "I'm not scared of anything, especially not you. Now, move out of my way."

Kevin stepped aside, still wearing that infuriating smirk." We'll see how brave you are in the ring tonight. Don't disappoint the Bloodline too much, Y/N. I told you, Roman only cares about you when you're an asset. Once you start becoming a liability, well, you've seen how he deals with that."

As Kevin walked away, you couldn't shake off the lingering frustration. The upcoming match was challenging enough without the added tension from your past with Kevin. He was right, as much as you hated to admit it. Your choices had consequences, and tonight's match was a testament to that.

You could only hope that Jey and Sami could put their differences aside long enough to successfully defend the tag titles. If they lost, the blame would be on you, and Kevin was right, if you became a liability, Roman wouldn't take too kind to that.

All of this rests on your shoulders, and yet it was on Jey and Sami to deliver in the ring. As you returned to the locker room, the atmosphere was tense, and the air felt heavy with the weight of the impending match. Jey and Sami were still exchanging heated glances, but they fell silent as you entered.

"Everything okay?" Jey asked, noticing the frustration on your face.

"Kevin being his usual annoying self," you replied dismissively, not wanting to dwell on the encounter.

Sami raised an eyebrow, curious but hesitant to ask more. Instead, he focused on the matter at hand. "We need a game plan for tonight. What are we doing?"

You took a deep breath, pushing aside the lingering frustration from the encounter with Kevin. "We're putting our differences aside, focusing on the match, and ensuring that we walk out of there with the tag titles still around our waists. We can't afford any mistakes, and we can't let personal issues get in the way."

Jey nodded, his expression determined. "I'm not losing these titles tonight. Sami, you better have my back."

Sami sighed, relenting for the sake of the match. "I'll do what it takes to win. Just make sure you control that temper of yours, Uce."

You chimed in, "And I'll be at ringside, making sure everything goes smoothly. We're the Bloodline, and we don't let anything or anyone stand in our way. Let's focus on the task at hand and make sure we prove our dominance in that ring."

If only that were as simple as it sounded.

You took a deep breath as you, Jey and Sami walked out to the ring, the crowd's roar echoing through the arena. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, and you could feel the weight of the tag team titles on your shoulders. The chaotic events that unfolded earlier backstage seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the singular focus of successfully defending the titles.

You avoided looking at Kevin's eyes as you stepped into the ring with Jey and Sami, you stepped into the ring, trying to maintain your composure. The referee signaled for the match to start, and Jey and Sami reluctantly began the defense of the tag team titles.

"They don't care about you!" Kevin yelled at Sami as he circled the ring. He couldn't let you and Sami fall into Roman's trap.

Sami shot back, "They care about me more than you ever did! Focus on the match, or are you just here to run your mouth?"

The bell rang, and the match officially began. Jey and Sami had to put aside their differences and work as a team to retain the titles. The crowd was buzzing with excitement, sensing the tension within the Bloodline.

The match started with Jey and Kevin in the ring. They locked up, each trying to assert dominance. Jey, fueled by the frustration from earlier, unleashed a flurry of strikes on Kevin, aiming to prove a point. Sami, on the apron, looked on with a mix of concern and eagerness.

You were at ringside, waiting for the moment to interject if needed. The intensity in the ring was palpable, and the match could easily tip in any direction.

Jey and Kevin continued their exchange of blows, neither giving an inch. Jey's aggression was on full display as he took control of the match, delivering punishing kicks and strikes. Sami, still on the apron, seemed torn between supporting his partner and letting his personal issues distract him.

You grabbed Kevins leg to try and distract him, pulling him out of the ring. The referee's attention shifted towards the commotion outside, allowing Jey to capitalize on the distraction and gain the upper hand against Kevin, sending him sprawling to the outside.

"Sami!" You yelled at him to come quick as Jey had Kevin in a vulnerable position. Sami hesitated for a moment, torn between helping and staying focused on the match. The internal conflict was evident on his face, but he eventually slid out of the ring and joined you.

"Hit him!" Jey bellowed out to Sami, urging him to take advantage of the situation. Sami, though still conflicted, nodded and delivered a swift kick to Kevin's midsection before rolling him back into the ring.

With the match back inside the squared circle, Jey continued to target, showcasing the Uso's ruthless side. Sami, despite his earlier reservations, seamlessly joined the attack, working with Jey to wear down Kevin. The teamwork, however reluctant, seemed effective.

Seth tried to interfere, rushing down the ramp, but you intercepted him, engaging in a brief brawl at ringside by hitting him low. The distraction allowed Jey and Sami to maintain control in the ring, isolating Kevin Owens and preventing him from making the tag to Seth.

But that's where the mistakes started. Miscommunication that was inadvertently Jey's fault made Jey angry and he shoved Sami away, frustrated by the lack of cohesion.

"What are you doing?!" He screamed at Sami, but Sami fired back, "I'm doing my part, Uce! Maybe if you weren't so hot-headed, we could actually work as a team!"

You ran your hands over your face, silently praying that the Bloodline could somehow get through this match without completely self-destructing. The tension within the team was escalating, and it was starting to affect their performance in the ring.

Despite the internal strife, Jey and Sami managed to keep Kevin grounded, preventing him from reaching Seth for the tag. The crowd was divided, some cheering for the Bloodline's dominance, while others hoped for Kevin to turn the tide.

Jey, still visibly frustrated, tagged Sami back into the match. The two attempted a double-team move, but the lack of coordination led to a momentary hesitation, giving Kevin the opening he needed. Kevin fought back, delivering a series of strikes to both Sami and Jey, turning the tables in his favor.

The chaotic situation in the ring mirrored the chaos that had unfolded earlier backstage. You could feel the control slipping away, and the consequences of the discord within the Bloodline were becoming evident.

As Kevin gained momentum, the frustration between Jey and Sami boiled over. A heated argument erupted, and you had to slide into the ring to stop a full-blown confrontation. The referee tried to intervene, but the tension was too high. Your attempts to separate Jey and Sami were met with resistance, each blaming the other for the escalating situation.

"Your anger is costing us the match!" Sami yelled at Jey, pushing him away.

"Oh, I'm the problem? Maybe if you weren't so focused on running your mouth, we could actually win this!" Jey shot back, his frustration reaching a breaking point.

You stepped between them, trying to mediate. "Enough! We can't afford this right now. Focus on the match!"

But the damage was done. Kevin took advantage of the internal strife within the Bloodline, delivering a devastating superkick to Jey, followed by a Popup Powerbomb. The crowd erupted as Kevin made the cover.

1, 2, -"

You grabbed the ref's arm before he could count to three. You couldn't let the titles slip away like this. The referee looked at you with confusion, but you pointed to Sami, signaling for him to break up the pin.

Sami, realizing the urgency, shoved Jey into Kevin, breaking the pin just in time. The match continued, but the disarray within the Bloodline was evident.

Kevin laughed and shook his head at your actions. He knew you would go to great lengths to protect the Bloodline's interests.

"Why do you keep protecting them!?" Kevin asked, or more like shouted, at you as you stared at him, trying to move away from him, not knowing if he would leave you alone or stun you.

You were like a sister to him, so he never shied away from stunning some brain cells into you when needed. "He only cares about you when you're useful. If you lost your title tonight, Roman would kick you to the curb. You can't keep protecting them forever. I won't let you!"

You ignored Kevin's words, the internal conflict weighing heavily on your shoulders. The match continued, but the unity within the Bloodline was shattered. Jey and Sami struggled to work together, their frustration and resentment evident in every move.

Seth, on the outside, watched the chaos unfold with a smirk on his face. The disarray within the Bloodline was playing right into the hands of their opponents. The tag team titles, once a symbol of dominance, were now on the brink of slipping away.

Seth finally got tagged in, and him and Jey started exchanging blows in the center of the ring. Despite the internal conflict, Jey showcased his resilience, fighting back against Seth. Sami, still recovering on the apron, watched with a mix of concern and frustration.

"Tag me in!" Sami pleaded to Jey, who was hesitant to cooperate. Seth was also reaching out to tag Kevin. The tension between them had reached its peak, and you were begging that somehow they could pull it together. "For fucks sake Jey, act like you don't hate me for once and tag me in!!"

Jey, who finally put his pride away and realized the urgency, finally tagged Sami in. Sami entered the ring, facing off against Kevin, who was now the legal man for the opposing team. The match had reached a critical point, and the outcome hung in the balance.

Sami hesitated as him and Kevin stood off in the middle of the ring. The history between them, both as friends and rivals, one that you shared with them, added an extra layer of intensity to the match. You were internally screaming at Sami. Do not hesitate, Sami. DO NOT HESITATE!

It seemed like Sami was about to extend his hand for a shake, a momentary truce in the midst of the chaos. However, as Kevin reached out, Sami's hesitation turned into a sudden change of heart. He pulled his hand back and delivered a swift kick to Kevin's midsection.

"YESS!" You screamed out to encourage Sami's aggression. "BEAT HIS ASS, SAMI!"

Sami, fueled by a combination of frustration, rivalry, and the desire to prove his loyalty to the Bloodline, relentlessly attacked Kevin. It hurt you to see, but you knew Roman would hurt you more if you lost.

The match continued with a back-and-forth exchange between Sami and Kevin. Sami, fueled by a mix of frustration and determination, unleashed a barrage of strikes on Kevin, each blow carrying the weight of the internal conflict within the Bloodline.

Sami, driven by his internal conflict and the external pressure from you and the looming consequences with Roman Reigns, continued to dominate Kevin in the ring. The referee tried to maintain order, but the animosity between the two wrestlers seemed to overshadow any attempts at sportsmanship.

Jey was watching the intense exchange between Sami and Kevin. He nodded approvingly at Sami's aggressive display, knowing that their allegiance to the Bloodline had to be unwavering.

Seth, sensing that the end was near, ran into the ring and tried to pull Sami off of Kevin as he had Kevin in the corner, but Jey intercepted Ezekiel with a super kick, sending him sprawling outside the ring.

You held your breath as you watched Kevin try to gather his bearings, and as the ref tried to separate Seth and Jey, you knew you had to do something to secure the win, or Jey distracting the ref will cost all of you.

You slipped inside the ring to the corner, avoided looking Kevin in the eyes, and hit Kevin with your title, making him slump in the corner.

"Come on, Sami! Finish him!" you shouted, rallying behind your guys.

Sami, momentarily surprised by your interference, quickly recovered and seized the opportunity. He delivered a devastating Helluva Kick to Kevin, who crumpled to the mat. The referee, having missed your interference, turned around just in time to see Sami covering Kevin for the pin.

The referee counted: "One! Two! Three!"

The bell rang, signaling the victory for your team. Sami quickly stood up, a mix of exhaustion and triumph on his face. You screamed in joy, sliding into the ring, out of instinct jumping into Sami's arms to celebrate the hard-fought victory. The arena erupted with a mix of cheers and boos, but for you and your team, it was a moment of glory.

Sami, not expecting you to hug him so aggressively, slightly stumbled, but he quickly caught his balance and reciprocated the hug. The adrenaline was still pumping through both of you, and the taste of victory was sweet. You slid out of Sami's arms and yelled for Jey to join you guys.

"JEYY!!" You yelled out for your boyfriend, waving him over. Jey, seeing the tag titles in your hands, grinned and entered the ring, and you hugged him in glee. "We fucking did it!!" The three of you stood there, victorious, with the championship titles gleaming in the arena lights.

Despite the tension earlier, Sami held out a hand to Jey after you finished hugging him. Jey's face turned into a mix of anger and uncertainty as Sami extended his hand for a shake after the three of you went up the ramp. The history between them was complex, and it seemed like this moment could go either way. "Jey, please. Roman wants unity, I want unity, and I know you want it too."

Sami said earnestly, the exhaustion from the match evident in his voice.

Jey hesitated, eyeing Sami's hand for a moment. The crowd was still buzzing with the aftermath of the match, and the tension in the ring was palpable. After a brief pause, Jey sighed, and it actually looked like he was thinking about shaking Sami's hand, but then, Kevin's voice was heard over a mic. "No, No, NOO!"

You turned to the ring, where you saw Kevin, ,still recovering from the match, grabbed a microphone and struggled to his feet inside the ring.

The moment of potential unity shattered as Sami and Jey turned their attention to Kevin, their expressions a mix of annoyance and frustration.

He pointed at Sami, Jey, and you with a determined glare. "I let you guys take Y/N, a-and turn her into this clone of Roman! But I won't let you destroy Sami too!"

You pursed your lips as you listened to Kevin's passionate outburst. The atmosphere in the ring shifted, and the celebration came to an abrupt halt. "Kevin, just cause you are mad that you lost-"

"It's not even about the loss!" Kevin interrupted, his voice filled with frustration and anger. "I let you run your mouth and act like a lunatic for 2 years, I let Roman drag my best friend into this mess and turn her into something she's not! But I won't let you ruin Sami's life too. I won't let you and Roman manipulate him like you did to Y/N!"

Sami still catching his breath, stepped forward. "Kevin, I made my choice. I'm not being manipulated. I chose this path, and I won't let anyone question my decisions."

Kevin chuckled bitterly. "You're blinded, Sami. You both are naive as always, and I won't let you guys ruin your lives." He paused for a moment, looking at each of you in the ring. "I told you to stay on Smackdown, and we’d be fine. That if you came to Raw, there would be consequences. Well, here they are."

Kevin took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing with determination. "I'M COMING FOR ROMAN AT SURVIVOR SERIES, AND I'M SHOWING EVERYONE THAT TRIBAL CHIEF IS NOTHING THAN AN ASSHOLE BY CHALLENGING HIM TO WARGAMES!”

The crowd erupted into cheers at Kevin's bold declaration. You exchanged worried glances with Jey and Sami.

No no no, this was not supposed to happen!

You were supposed to come to Raw to secure unity, not ignite a war. But it was clear that Kevin had other plans. The tension in the air escalated, and the consequences of your actions were unfolding right before your eyes.

You were speechless and afraid, Sami looked conflicted, torn between the unity Roman desired and the loyalty to his best friend, Kevin, and Jey looked mad as hell.

Before any of you could speak, Kevin stared directly into the camera, addressing Roman Reigns, "Roman, you took Y/N from me, twisted her into something she’s not. I won’t let you do the same to Sami. At Survivor Series, I’m gonna take your dignity, my best friends back, and then I’m gonna take YOUR TITLE!”

The intensity in Kevin's words hung heavy in the air, creating a storm of emotions and uncertainty. The path to unity seemed to have taken an unexpected turn towards a brewing conflict. But even though things were uncertain, you knew one thing.

Roman was gonna kill you after this.

[svngiem-remade]

WHOLE ONCE MORE | scb

🧸 pairing. boyfriend!seo changbin + gn!reader

synopsis. just a short drabble in which you and your boyfriend decide to spend his birthday at his beach house after weeks apart from eachother.

🌙 wc. 1k | au. established relationship, fluff.

Between promotions, music shows, interviews, dance and vocal practices, producing and writing music, and recording most of the songs for their next album, Changbin rarely got the chance to see you these past weeks—let alone spend some nice, relaxing quality time together.

So, when on a random Monday night he barged into your apartment unannounced, and quite literally pounced on your half asleep figure on the couch with the biggest smile you’d seen him sport in a while as he told you that, as soon as his birthday live was over, he could take the rest of the day and the next one off of work, you squealed in excitement, hugging him tighter while suggesting date ideas, one after the other. 

He chuckled at your enthusiasm, heart swelling in absolute adoration when he noticed the spark of joy in your eyes as you spoke—and all he hoped for was for it to only grow bigger and brighter once you heard his proposition. Changbin cleared his throat just as you finished speaking, his fingers lacing with yours before starting to stroke the back of your hand with his thumb. Then, he looked up at you, “They all sound great, but… how about we spend those days at my beach house? You know, just you and me? We could grill some meat and veggies, drink something tasty and go for a dip whenever we feel like it.”

And needless to say, you’d never agreed to something that quickly before.

𔓘

Everyone could tell just how elated Changbin was to finally have a few days of rest—with you, nonetheless—so none of the staff were surprised when he curtly bid everyone goodbye after ending his birthday live, doing the same in the SKZ group chat, before running to the underground parking of his agency and hopping into your car. 

 “Hi.” you smiled widely, turning to squish his cheeks to press a long peck on his pink lips—oh, how you missed the sweet smell of his cologne, how you missed the way he always smiled into your kisses, how you missed how soft his lips felt against yours. The past three weeks without him hanging around your apartment, meeting up for lunch dates, or even for a brief coffee felt like an agonizing eternity for the both of you, so the giddines you felt when you finally saw his smiley face approaching your car, his heavenly voice whispering your name with such gentleness as soon as your lips met was so great you could swear your heart was on the brink of bursting. “Happy Birthday~” you sang, placing a butterfly kiss on his nose.

He giggled as a faint blush dusted his cheeks. “Thanks.” he mumbled, shily hiding his face in the crook of your neck, making you bite your bottom lip at how utterly adorable he was. You truly couldn’t wait to spend time with him, in your own little bubble, for two days straight—and neither could he.

So hours later, there you were—all of your things settled into the small beach house right by the ocean, lounging on the two person lounge chair with Changbin glued to your side, swimsuits on and drinks on the side table. Still sleepy from the nap the both of you took as soon as you arrived, a comfortable silence filled the air as the sun slowly rose—with you reading the final page of your favorite book, and your boyfriend with his head on your chest, his arm draped on your middle as light snores reverberated on your torso, finally enjoying some well-deserved sleep. (You also secretly took some pictures of him—he looked way too adorable for you not to.)

“S’ comfy.” Changbin groaned as soon as you tried moving from your spot to place your finished book on the nearby sidetable, his hand squeezing your side and forcefully keeping you from moving even an inch—he even took it to the next level by throwing a leg over your hip.

You let out an annoyed whine, the hand playing with his soft curls lightly tugging at his scalp, “I just wanted to put my book away and get my drink though—” 

Without a word, but with a loud huff, he took the book from your hands and stretched his arm to place it on the table, exchanging it for the bubbly and colorful drink he’d made earlier as you got changed into your swimwear. However, as he handed it to you, your thirst for that drink was long forgotten, since all your mind could think about was how his tensed forearm and big bicep were right in front of your eyes a few seconds ago. Your pupils moved back down to watch as he got back into his previous position, his buff, defined arm once more around your waist.

“Like what you see?” he tiredly whispered, tilting his head back to admire your reaction as he now purposely flexed his muscles. Your face heated up when you realized you’d been caught, but still, your eyes couldn’t seem to be able to leave the little show he’d put on for your eyes only.

He grinned when you lightly slapped his arm in fake annoyance. “Tch— Showoff.” 

“Why? Don’t you like it when I do this?” he teased with a fake pout, sitting up to do his usual flexing poses, tiredness now completely out of his system, to which you just rolled your eyes, pulled down your shades and sipped on the fruity cocktail, trying to stifle a laugh at how corny he was being. Not that you minded; it was one of his many charms after all.

But as your usual back and forth, held back laughs and lingering touches happened, the last thing you expected Changbin to do was to suddenly get up from the lounge chair, steal your glass from your hands to put it on the table and pull you up in a sitting position, only for him to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. All you could do was gasp.

“Oh my— Bin! Put me down!” you protested as you held onto his back, shrieking when his hand gave your buttcheek a sharp slap to shut you up. 

“Let’s enjoy the ocean now, shall we?” he said, right before running towards the immense body of water with a giggling you on his shoulder.

please reblog, comment and like, feedback is very much appreciated, plus, I love reading your thoughts!

→ masterlist.

taglist: @strayingawayy | @shinsosmatcha | @zoe8stay | @sensitiveandhungry | @baby-photos0325 | @tinkerbell460 | @mingitheskzstan

— pink = unable to tag!

© SVNGIEM, 2023.

[callsignthirsty]

Stuck at the Navy Ball

So… I decided I wasn’t done playin’ with the boys.

As this is a continuation of the original Stuck in the Middle fic, I highly recommend that you read through that before diving into this. Could you dive headfirst into this? Yes. There might be a little confusion, though.

Inspired by a comment someone left on SitM over on AO3.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: You, Ice, and Sli haven’t lost that loving feeling. So when the flyboys are reunited at the 1986 Navy Ball, it's only natural that they bring a bit of chaos with them. Word Count: 4200 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, under-negotiated situations (but everyone involved is fine), fingering Chapter: 1/4 Minors DNI

gif originally posted by neuromancer1888

Chapter 1: Under the Table

The invitation arrives early in September, printed on thick cardstock and addressed to your brother. But if Viper’s words are to be believed—and you’ve yet to hear of a situation in which they aren’t—Pete’s attendance isn’t exactly optional. So the summons finds its way from the trash onto the fridge, rough edges taped back together.

Please Join Us For the 211th Navy Ball. Monday, October 13th Washington D.C.

Cocktail Hour 1700 | Ceremony Begins 1800 Live Music. Food. Dancing.

The same invitation has Carole positively giddy. Born and raised in Virginia, she’s been looking for an excuse to fly east to visit her parents. And for a party? Isn’t that swell! Arrangements are made for Bradley to sleep at his grandparents on the night of the ball before Goose—whose PT-mandated wheelchair has landed him desk duty—is home from work.

Which is how, roughly one month later, you find yourself in Goose’s room at the Hyatt Regency on Capitol Hill, sharing precious mirror space with Carole. Breathing in Aqua Net while putting the finishing touches on your looks.

The hotel calls the four of you a taxi, Goose’s wheelchair is stuffed into the trunk, and then you’re off to meet your date.

Singular.

There hadn’t been a question of if you’d attend or whose arm you’d decorate once Pete’s invite arrived. Officially, you’re at the ball with Ice. After Layton, Ice had made it a point to be seen with you while he was off-duty. Your relationship, which you’d tried to keep on the down-low, was worth showing off publicly after he and your brother had dropped their rivalry in favor of mutual respect. Friendship. 

But the other half of your relationship was still very much under wraps. 

That fact hadn’t stopped you from nodding eagerly when Ice pulled you close to ask you to attend the Navy Ball with him. Ice wants to climb the ladder, and earning stars is more than clambering into the cockpit every morning or disappearing on a carrier for the better part of a year at a time. It’s politics. It’s achieving perceived milestones on or ahead of schedule. And in October, for Lieutenant Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, naval aviator and promotion hopeful, it’s attending the Navy Ball with a woman on his arm.

Pete wrestles the wheelchair out of the trunk while Goose pays the cab driver. As you step into the crisp October evening, you marvel at the palatial, white-stone building that is to be the backdrop of your night. A steady flow of servicemen and women crossing beneath grand archways with their dates for the promise of a good night.

You aren’t left alone to gawk for long before you catch sight of them chatting with someone or another: decked in their whites, Slider leaning against the wrought iron rail and Ice to his side. Ice’s gaze flicks to you instantaneously, as if he’d felt your eyes land on him. The natural pout of his lips morphs into a grin as he excuses himself from the conversation and moves toward you against the flow of the crowd. Slider follows close behind, ultimately making his way to Goose, Carole, and your brother. But you catch the hesitation in his step. The course-correct.

Events like these will be challenging for the three of you—that had been a foregone conclusion—but this knowledge doesn’t make it any easier. It feels all sorts of wrong to have Slider keep himself at such a purposeful distance when you’re used to his proximity. Even at the O Club, he manages to stand close. Doesn’t shy away.

Before your mood can be irreparably embittered, Ice takes your hand in his and coaxes you into a slow spin. “You’re beautiful,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, and a delicate smile lights your lips. 

The dress had been a surprise. Something you’d insisted on buying yourself despite Ice and Slider offering to pool their money for something truly extravagant. But after years spent in the foster system, even the thought of spending money on something so frivolous left a bad taste in your mouth. Instead, you’d taken Carole, your more comfortable budget, and found an old gala dress at a thrift shop. The sleek, black velvet gown up to your collarbones with the slightest sparkle as the fabric shifted beneath the store’s old lights ticked all your self-imposed boxes. A dress fit for an aspirational young officer’s date, even after Carole added a slit up the left side to show a little leg and “bring the dress into this decade.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, squeezing Ice’s arm as it’s offered to you. Typically, the change of season calls for blues, but the Navy Ball is an exception to the rule. You wonder whose wife you have to thank for that because although your boys look damn fine in both, you have a not-so-hidden preference. “And Kerner didn’t clean up so bad, either,” you shoot in Slider’s direction with a playful grin.

“Surprised?” Slider asks, brow raised. You shrug because, no, you’re not surprised, but you aren’t sure what to say that will fly under the radar. And that’s the name of the night’s game. That doesn’t stop Pete from rolling his eyes as he passes you with Goose and Carole on their way to the building’s ramp.

The closest you ever got to a ball before tonight was prom—not yours; you’d been on staff at the venue. Frankly, you’d half expected you and Pete to have been blacklisted, given your father’s ill-gotten reputation, but they let you in without issue. You wonder if Pete’s face appearing on the front page of every magazine in the English-speaking world has anything to do with it, but you keep that to yourself while Ice, ever the gentleman, escorts you further into the event. 

If the outside of the building is beautiful, then the inside is magnificent: all barrel vaulted ceilings decorated with Romanesque gold leafing and warm mahogany. A vast hall that steadily fills as guests arrive for cocktail hour and to mingle before the evening officially kicks off.

Slider spots Carole’s shock of blonde hair by a table with easy access for Goose and herds Ice in her direction. They aren’t alone at the table. “Merlin,” Slider barks, bounding over to shake his fellow RIO’s hand. “I thought you were stationed over the Atlantic. What’re you doing here?”

“Turned out to be an exercise. Over and back in sixty-two days.”

“And just in time for the party,” the woman at his side chips in, and Merlin wraps an arm around her to pull her close.

“Oh! Tom Kazansky, Ron Kerner, my wife, Laura.” Ice takes the opportunity to introduce you in turn. The conversation is easy-going, Ice and Slider filling Merlin in on their time instructing at Miramar.

Slider gets in several quips about Ice having a list of officers whose asses he needs to kiss to speed up a promotion when Ice spies one of said officers. He gently tugs you in the right direction so you can play the part of the doting girlfriend. The officer—a captain—quickly introduces you to his wife before he and Ice talk shop.

You manage to pluck a champagne flute from a waiter’s tray, sipping daintily and nodding along with the captain’s wife. Considering most of your knowledge concerning the Navy revolves around the planes your brother flies and the stunts he’s pulled in them, the conversation goes in one ear and out the other.

Not that it matters. Your role tonight—thankfully—is just to follow Ice around and look pretty.

The captain’s wife finishes her champagne in record time, and though you’re hesitant at first, you aren’t too far behind her. It is at this point, glass empty, that Slider appears like your guardian angel. “Captain,” he nods. “Ice.”

“Captain Reid, have you met my RIO?” Ice asks, knowing full well that Slider has no interest in schmoozing. Much like your brother, Slider is there because it is expected of him. Unlike Pete, Ice doesn’t need his friend’s emotional support or commiseration to make it through such events, mandatory or otherwise. Every opportunity like this is one Ice can use to his advantage. 

Slider offers the captain a firm handshake. “Lieutenant Ron Kerner, sir.”

“Your RIO? I thought you were stationed at Miramar?”

“The perks of winning the trophy, sir,” pride leaks through as Slider says it. He and Ice worked damn hard to finish at the top of their class. “We’ve been together since flight school. When Ice took a teaching position at TOPGUN, I followed.”

“And how does a man of your stature fit in the cockpit, lieutenant?” the captain’s wife asks from beneath heavily painted lashes.

The grin Slider offers her is loose. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but no complaints so far.” The minute narrowing of Ice’s eyes says behave. You nearly avoid snorting, hiding the unladylike compulsion behind the rim of your empty flute, a reflection off the crystal drawing Slider’s eye.

“Actually,” Slider says, hand twitching as if he’s had to stop himself from resting it against your back, “I noticed your glass is empty.” Sli nods toward the bar, an invitation to refill your glass. You look up at him with a grin—a genuine one, not the soft smile that’s grown stale throughout Ice’s conversation—acceptance on your lips when–

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ice’s brow wrinkles, noticing for the first time that you’ve finished your drink.

”I didn’t want to interrupt,” is your bashful answer.

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Ice says. “I’ll come with you.”

”You don’t have to leave.” Slider will take care of me, you don’t say.

Ice picks up on the silent part but blatantly ignores it. His eyes take on that warm, charmed look, tongue peeking out before his lips curl into that honeyed smile you love so much. “You’re too good for me,” he says as if it’s a secret meant only for you. There’s no doubt he means it, but something about the way he’s playing the sentiment up for the brass makes it feel different in a way you’re not entirely comfortable with. No mistakes. “If you’ll excuse us, sir. Ma’am.”

Captain Reid is already turning to walk the room with his wife when Ice’s eyes narrow into what can only be described as a glare at Slider, his arm cementing itself around your waist in a way that probably looks far more relaxed than it feels.

”What?” Slider asks, shooting for casual, but now you’re not sure you’re buying it, either. “I’m just trying to do my part so you can talk to everyone on your list.” The subconscious flex of Ice’s jaw, as if he wishes he could chew out his frustration on the butt of a cig or some gum, doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does go unheeded. “Admiral Benjamin is on your list, right?” You perk up. As in Penny Benjamin? “I think I saw him by the corner with wife number three and Commander Johnson.”

“You know,” Ice says, his grin glacial, “it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you rubbed elbows at an event like this.”

Slider scoffs, though it’s affectionate. “Why bother? We both know my military career ends when you take a desk job. Besides, I think my time is much better spent keeping your date’s cup full.” You’ve all agreed to go to the bar, but no one is moving. The tension between Ice and Slider is palpable.

”Okay,” you interrupt. There’s something off about their banter tonight. You’ve seen Ice stare down many a handful of people since landing in Miramar, but never Slider. It’s enough to raise a sculpted brow. “What am I missing?”

Slider senses blood in the water. Sees the smoke in the air. The grin he gives you is far tighter than the one he gave the captain’s wife. He opens his mouth, but Ice beats him to the punch. “You said something about grabbing my date a drink.”

Slider’s jaw clicks shut, but his grin isn’t so easily wiped away. “More champagne?” When you nod, Slider picks his way toward the bar while Ice escorts you to the side of the room where there’s more room to breathe and a lesser likelihood that someone will overhear when he presses close. “Sli’s upset that you’re with me tonight.”

That’s it? You hadn’t thought the arrangement would bother Slider so much. The three of you had discussed it and mutually concluded that you should go with Ice. That you had to go with Ice. Was Slider having second thoughts?

“Well, not upset,” Ice concedes at the concern that drags your lips down. “But he was talking a big game.”

Color you curious. “What’d he say?”

“Well,” Ice pulls you closer so his breath tickles your ear and you can smell the mint on his breath, “he thinks he can get you off before we leave the building. Steal you away while you’re being my pretty little girlfriend for the brass.” You gulp. Where is Slider with that drink?

”Oh.”

Ice chuckles. “Yeah. Oh. But I’m not worried.” Two fingers find their way under your chin and lift until your eyes meet Ice’s. “I know you’ll be good for me.”

“What’s the winner get?”

”Bragging rights.”

”And?”

It’s impossible to miss the way Ice’s eyes flit to your lips and linger there because he can. Those are the perks of being your date out in the light of day. “Can’t that be it?”

“Could be,” you breathe and slowly wet your bottom lip with your tongue, delighting in the way gray-blue eyes track the movement, “but it isn’t.”

Ice double-checks that no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. “You remember what got delivered the other day?” Your breath hitches. Yeah. You remember the catalog order you’d put in for a remote-controlled toy. The excitement and disappointment that had come with unfortunate delivery schedules. “Single-night, exclusive access once we’re all home.”

”That’s quite a lot on the line.”

”It would be,” Ice concedes, one large hand spanning the small of your back, warming you and holding you close enough you can breathe in his cologne, “but you can be good for me, right, baby? I’ll make it worth your while.” You nod, a little dumb as you inhale teakwood, sage, and sea salt.

It’s sure to be a profoundly satisfying night as long as you can stick to the script.

“I’m not going to make it easy on you,” Slider promises, appearing by Ice’s shoulder.

”Wouldn’t be fun if you did.” Ice’s smirk is all cocky confidence, cracking only when he notices Slider has only fetched two flutes of champagne.

”Only got two hands, Tommy,” Slider says with a toothy grin, “but I’ll keep her company while you grab yourself a glass.” The crystal buzzes with the steady fizz of bubbles, your fingers brushing Sli’s ever so slightly before Ice pulls you back into the throng.

The room becomes more difficult to navigate with each new attendee, but Ice only seems more in his element as cocktail hour drags on. He introduces you to a flurry of officers and their wives whose jewel-tone dresses all start to blend together, brushing shoulders with the men who ultimately control his upward trajectory. 

On his arm, you smile and nod, interjecting where appropriate because, despite the smattering of female officers present, the Navy remains very much a boy’s club.

Still, it’s nice to be shown off so publicly. To delight in the knowledge that Ice’s attention never strays far from you despite his planned schmoozing. You preen each time he introduces you to someone new with a tender look—there are many things tonight that may be manufactured, but that look isn’t one of them. 

An ache blooms in the ball of your foot as Ice delivers on the same script over and over to increasingly dismal company. The throbbing is nothing compared to the pinpricks in your cheeks, though. Beauty pageant smiles are their own form of torture. But this is important.

It’s all for a good cause.

Tonight is important to Ice, so it’s important to you.

You’d do anything for your boys: ignore every sour expression at your last name, force a pleasant laugh along with each rear admiral’s wife, stifle a relieved sigh when everyone is invited to find their seats for dinner.

The flyboys have claimed three closely clustered tables during your absence, forcing others to walk around them as they spill into the spaces between each table, leaning close to make up for the distance forced by post-graduation reassignments. Viper is curiously absent, or perhaps Jester had pulled the short straw and been stuck with babysitting duties.

But there’s someone you don’t recognize at your table, sat between Merlin and Slider, a stranger in your midst. A smile splits Ice’s face when he spots him. “Cougar?” The man stands and pulls Ice into a quick embrace, Ice’s hand on the man’s—Cougar’s—shoulder. Ice makes quick work of introducing you to Bill Cortell and his wife, Maria. “Cougar and I were like brothers in flight school,” Ice beams. “We were supposed to meet up at TOPGUN, but–”

”It turned out for the best,” Cougar cuts Ice off goodnaturedly with a quick nod toward Pete. “Besides, desk life isn’t so bad.” Ice raises a brow at the assertion while Goose lets out a ‘bullshit!’ “Okay,” he cedes, “it’s pretty bad, but I wouldn’t give up being at home with Maria and the kids for the world.” Maria, who is heavily pregnant, rests her hand over her bundle of joy.

The lights choose that moment to dim, commanding stragglers to find their seats, but neither man moves. Slider stands up. “Here,” he offers Ice his seat on Cougar’s left because the two clearly have some catching up to do. Ice takes the seat while you slide over to stay seated next to him, and Slider takes your spot as the lights come up on the stage for the opening ceremony.

By the time everyone is seated and some speaker makes his way to center stage, Ice is only half paying attention to the night’s program. He and Cougar have a lot to catch up on in appropriately hushed whispers. You’re about to zone out when you’re yanked back to the present by a hand on your knee.

Above the table, for prying eyes, Slider doesn’t give anything away. Attention seemingly focused on the stage. Below the table’s skirt, however, you press your thighs together as Slider’s hand massages the skin exposed by the modified slit in your dress. Familiar callouses drawing senseless patterns above your knee. His hand stays there, occasionally giving you a comforting squeeze, like he knows you crave reassurance through gentle touches after being dragged so far out of your comfort zone. It’s nice. Before long, between the buzz of quiet conversation and each soothing caress, you relax back into your chair.

Polite applause fills the room as the admiral gives the podium to the next presenter. Pete and Carole chuckle at something Goose murmurs. Wolfman yawns. Someone coughs. A waiter comes around to top off champagne.

You wrap your fingers around the delicate stem of your flute, raising it to your lips in the same instant that Slider’s palm shifts so it’s wedged between your thighs. Your sharp breath is lost in the crowd as nimble fingers creep higher, never once pausing their massage.

The corner of Slider’s lip tugs the slightest bit up. Smug bastard. When you’re sure no one is paying attention, you give his wrist a tug, but instead of retreating, Slider brushes a finger against the flimsy fabric of your panties.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you become hyper-aware of how loud your breathing is, and your brain kicks into overdrive. Can anyone hear you over the clink of glasses? Your nails dig into the meat of Slider’s wrist in surprise, but you’re fairly confident that the rest of you looks normal—suddenly, you’re not sure what that means.

Is this the way a normal person’s mouth rests? The way a normal person sits in their chair? You need to leave, but you can’t. Being good for Ice, among other things, means not causing a scene. Not fleeing the room in the middle of a presentation. Not letting anyone know that while your boyfriend dutifully splits his time between the podium and his colleague, his RIO is pushing your underwear to the side for better access to your cunt. How you’re responding to his touch.

“Hey.” Pete’s giving you a strange look from across the table. “You okay?” From the way he’s pulled a face, you missed the bar for normal, and now Goose and Carole are also looking your way.

“I’m fine,” you hiss. “I-” need a distraction. You mentally stumble as Slider continues to stroke up and down your slit, his fingers spreading the wetness until they glide effortlessly through your lips.

The universe grants your wish when the crowd bursts into polite applause and the mic is turned over to the next speaker. “Isn’t that Admiral Benjamin?”

“As in Penny Benjamin?” Carole perks up, sitting tall in an attempt to get a better look at the stage while Pete bangs his head onto the table. Probably. You’re admittedly not paying attention.

Pleasure zings up your spine as thick fingers nudge your clit. A reward for redirecting the eyes on you. It’s everything you can do not to press your hips into the pressure or let your head loll back with a gasp. And with Penny’s father keeping attention off of you, Slider hooks an ankle around yours to encourage your legs further apart.

You shouldn’t, but Slider has always been convincing.

Ice won’t be particularly pleased with how promptly you gave into Slider’s suggestions, how readily your legs fall open, but that’s barely a blip on your radar as firm circles rub into your clit. The devil on your shoulder whispers that if Ice had really wanted to win, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so easily distracted. 

None of that matters nearly as much as it should when your heart pulses between your legs.

A hand lands on your velvet-covered thigh. Ice. “Sweetheart.” You whip your head around too quickly for the move to be anything but suspicious. Like you’ve been caught with your hand—or someone else’s—in the cookie jar. You try to focus on the cool, grounding pressure of his touch. It’s working, you think, but your leg is still trembling from the effort it takes to keep still. Keen eyes move from your face to your leg, trembling under his touch, to your lap, and then to Slider, where they narrow almost imperceptibly. “You alright?”

With a nod, you reach past your champagne for water to wet your dry throat. “Just taking it all in.”

A poor choice of words. Ever the opportunist, Slider presses a finger into your hole, the stretch delicious and unexpected enough that you almost choke. If anyone catches the color on your cheeks, you hope they’ll blame your earlier drinks.

“I was just saying I didn’t know Maverick had a sister,” Cougar says, this time loud enough for the table to hear him.

“He doesn’t talk about me much.”

“Yeah,” Pete scoffs, “because when people find out about you, this–” he gestures between you and Ice “–happens.”

“You got any other sisters, Mav?” Chipper’s question from the next table over prompts Pete to load a pomegranate seed onto this salad fork. He’s ready to launch, but a disapproving look from Jester dissuades him. Goose flips Chipper the bird in a show of solidarity.

“So when did this happen?” Cougar asks, eyes flitting from you to the blonde on your right.

Slider chuckles and leans into the conversation at the same time as he crooks his fingers. You bite the inside of your cheek. The circles Ice is rubbing into your knee aren’t as distracting as either of you wants them to be. “He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of her since we made it to Miramar.”

Hypocrite. You clear your throat. “About five months?”

“Aw,” Maria sighs in that way so many in long-term relationships do. You try and fail to focus on that as a second finger prods at your opening before pushing in slowly. “You’re still in the honeymoon phase.” Thankfully, Ice steps in with a reply because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears when Slider rubs his fingers against your sweet spot, thumb applying steady pressure to your clit. Your nails dig crescent moons into Ice’s wrist in a last-ditch attempt to ground yourself because if Slider keeps this up, it’s going to take a miracle to keep you from causing a scene.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Viper’s unapologetic quip appears from seemingly nowhere. Your own personal savior. “I need to borrow Iceman and Slider, Maverick and Merlin, Hollywood and Wolfman.”

You shiver at the abrupt emptiness. Slider wipes his fingers, dripping with arousal, off on the tablecloth, eyes locked on Ice.

Next Chapter

[crow-raven-crow]

Can you write a Larissa Weems OS where Reader was looking after a bunch of kids and when she wanted to talk to a misbehaving child they run away so she grabs them and sets them on a table to taln to the kid eye to eye the kud kicks against the bench before the table and it falls on the readers foot. Larissa comes in with the mom of the kids, because the mom is Larissa's friend Reader offered to watch the kids, to see Reader holding back tears and a quickly swelling foot takes her to the doctor and they find out the toe is broken and Larissa comforts the Reader (that is an actual thing that happened to me on monday and I'm craving some comfort from Larissa) but write it only if it's ok for you

𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧ Larissa Weems x f!reader words: ~2.4k

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: description of pain, broken bones, crying, emotional tightness (holding it in), rapid thoughts, FLUFF

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see ask above

masterlist

AO3 link in title

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: Hey Crimson! Ty for the ask - i think this is actually a really cute idea.

HOWEVER

I’m so sorry that happened to you! That seems crazy, and I hope that your recovery goes smoothly!

I had to ask my friends and one of them thats in the med program here about breaking bones - what it feels like, what you’d get afterwards, etc - because I’ve actually never broken a bone before (HEAVILY knocking on wood rn). I tried to do this justice - i did change it sliggghhhtttlllyyy BUT I hope you enjoy!

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

The rapid sounds of small, running footsteps and loud, excited screams filled your ears the closer you got to the little playground that was adjacent to the prestigious academy for outcasts. You had been a professor there for quite some time. Working with unique species and developing teenage brains every day surely gave you more tosses and turns than you expected to face when you had applied for the job some years ago, but you loved it regardless.

You pushed yourself to be someone for the students to feel comfortable reaching out towards and, in the process, created a home for yourself here with the help of the amazing principal (and now wife) Larissa Weems. You realized you fell hard for the woman after just a few months of working here - her captivating personality and kindness towards everyone made your heart swell after being enticed with the professional that could gain a rooms attention just by being present. Lucky, your company had given her butterflies as much as hers gave to you. You constantly helped each other get through the issues the growing minds threw at the both of you.. though, there was a part of you that always enjoyed the little ones.

In your spare time, you often found yourself at the daycare for outcasts that was right next to the school to give a helping hand. It was something that Larissa added when the population of outcasts grew larger. Being able to provide for this community was something you both held close to your heart, and there was a big part of you that was excited to have a child of your own. Seeing the little ones grow into their abilities was something you always found fascinating, but you always made sure to give them the most reassurance you could muster - the smaller ones often being confused and scared of something they didn’t understand quite yet.

You were lucky to find them at their playtime break outside. During this time of year, you always let out a soft chuckle when you saw the children wrapped in their winter coats and bundled up in their beanies and scarves their parents provided them - the puff of the fabrics making the children take up three times the space than they normally would. Seeing the little frosts or yeti children always concerned you at first glance in the winter - not needing such things due to their nature - but you soon got used to the sight the more you came here.

The main daycare teacher was standing next to the light post that lit the playground in a golden glow under the overcast sky. Her name was Olivia, and you’d grown closer to the younger woman the more you offered your help. She often stated how you were like an older sister to her - a thought that warmed your heart every time. She hugged her body close, the chill of the outside world going through her coat, and you couldn’t help but give a weak smile.

“Hey, Liv,” You said while wrapping your coat around the woman. “Is there anything I can help with today?”

“Y/N! Hi, thank you..” She tugged the thick coat closer to her body as she let out a shuddering breath. “We’re just staying warm, for now.. If you wanted, could you prepare some hot chocolate for when it’s time to head inside? I’m sure a lot of them will like the drink to warm up..”

You nodded and went to head into the building that stood behind her, but something caught your eye. A little lycan boy, who you immediately recognized as little Connor, was kicking and throwing wood chips in areas where other kids played. A small tsk left your mouth as you walked in his direction.

“Connnnoooorrrr?” You said with a playful lift in your voice. At the sound, he shot his gaze to you and screamed excitedly before bolting in a different direction. You decided it best to run after him, he was on a little mischievous streak after all.

“I got you, little one!” You boomed in a light tone. You didn’t want the kids to ever hold guilt for a situation but for them to understand what they were doing wrong, so you were always playful then serious when explaining, ensuring that they learned from their mistakes.

“Watch me make hot chocolate while we talk about why we don’t throw wood chips, hmm?” You picked him up as he agreed and wildly giggled, though a trouble maker, he was one of your favorites.

After helping him out of his coat, you settled him on the front table so you could look at each other at the same height. You didn’t want to intimidate him and wanted him to be honest with how he felt - it was the best move bringing him to your level.

You walked over to a cabinet to get some cups and chocolate mix. He watched your every move in genuine curiosity, your movements swift but not fast enough to disturb him. You walked back towards him, waiting for the liquid to warm before stopping in front of him.

“Now.. what do you think caused me to bring you in here, little wolf?” You watched him fidget slightly, refusing to answer for a moment. You took the moment to walk off and make him a cup of hot chocolate to warm up. While handing it to him, you spoke again.

“If I recall..” you started, offering him the small cup which he gladly accepted. “This is an issue we’ve had before, yes?”

“Yes, Ms.Weems,” he replied softly into his cup, his eyes moving to yours before his focus moved back to the drink.

“And what did we say the solution was, hmm?”

“If I want to do that with the wood chips then I should go off to the side where it won’t hit anyone..”

“That’s good, Connor. I’m glad you remembered that because we don’t want to have a repeat of-“

“But it wasn’t hitting anyone this time!! This time no one got hurt!!! Why can’t I keep doing it there!?!” The big outburst of energy from the small child caused a few things in close proximity to knock over with his quick feet and rapid moving arms. Some markers and a few plastic cups fell to the floor. The worst of it all was how his feet sent a chair down to the ground with a few large bangs that echoed throughout the room - the end of your foot breaking most of the fall…

The chair bounced off your foot and brought another wave of pain as it landed there again. At the first initial fall, a loud yelp left your lips as your eyes squeezed shut from the first wave of pain. You moved to catch yourself on a nearby desk as the chair settled itself on the floor. You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes before you could even process the severity of the situation.

Oh.. this certainly didn’t feel right.. You couldn’t bare to move your foot as an overwhelming warmth spread throughout your body - starting at the tip of your toes and quickly moving up to your head. Small waves of pain started there and made it hard to focus on anything else, making your body shudder as each one ran its course.

The sound of heels echoing down the hall registered in your mind, though the pain was so overwhelming that you didn’t give it your undivided attention or curiosity.

“It’s always so good to see you, Serenity. It’s lovely catching up with you. Let’s go ahead and grab little Connor, hmm? Right in here and- oh, y/n! Y/N?!” The beautiful accent filled your ears and eased the pain for what felt like seconds. Next thing you knew, the lovely woman was by your side softly rubbing your back. “My love, what happened?”

“Connor.. he-” you were cut off as another wave of pain vibrated through your body. She helped settle you on top of a desk and tried her best to get you to explain through the pain - every touch she gave was gentle and comforting, the love she held for you being transferred through her fingertips. Your throat burned as you attempted to get more words out, your breath running shorter by the second. “I-I don’t blame him- There.. was a little outburst but I understand why-”

Tears were now slipping from your eyes as the adrenaline slowly wore off - handing you the pain in tenfold as you held Larissa’s sleeves in a vice grip in attempt to ground yourself. Her eyes rapidly examined your face as she processed each of your words.

“Somethings broken..” You weakly managed to say, in between breaths.

Larissa, being the goddess she is, was able to handle the situation with a professional face - even if her insides were screaming at her to move and quickly get you to the hospital. She got the pair home and was able to update Olivia on the situation before helping you to the car. Her comfort never left you - a hand tracing patterns along your thigh and her angelic voice reminding you to breathe whenever your mind was too focused on the pain.

The trip to the hospital was a quick one - your wife becoming sick with worry after seeing you in so much pain caused her to make moves she wouldn’t normally make with a level head. By the time they had run all their tests and fully taken care of you, the sun had left the sky, causing the overcast atmosphere to run completely black.

Larissa walked into your room with an empathetic frown on her face. The sight of you in the hospital bed asleep with your foot elevated in a cast brought a spike of pain to her heart as she settled herself next to you. She brought your hand to her lips and kissed each of your knuckles.

“You really are something, Y/n..” She whispered, a small chuckle leaving her mouth.

You awoke a few moments later to a nice tingling feeling dancing patterns along your arm. As your eyes opened and took in the environment around you, your heart swelled as your eyes met captivating sapphire ones - you wife absentmindedly scratching along your forearm softly.

“Riss..?” You croaked out, your throat slightly dry form being out for so long. You attempted to sit up more, only to be met with a firm hand pushing you back down. You allowed the bed under you to capture your full weight as you watched your lovely wife grab a water bottle from beside her. She lifted it to your lips gently, waiting for you to drink, with her hand held out underneath to catch any water that would happen to slip from you.

“The doctor said we could go home whenever you woke, but I don’t want to leave here until you’re fully awake and ready, okay? One of your toes ended up breaking, so you’re going to have a cast for about four weeks, my love..” She brought the water down, after it seemed you had enough, as she answered all your unasked questions. “A crutch was given to you to refrain from putting too much weight on it.. and it’s advised to keep your foot elevated as much as you can..”

You threw your head back and let out a frustrated groan as the reality of the situation fully processed itself in your brain. “Can I go back to teaching though?” You asked, your voice laced with a bit of sadness because you didn’t want to set aside your passion for too long.

This caused the tall blonde to let out a loud laugh, you following in suit because you could never deny the bubbly feeling that rumbled in your chest every time you were able to make the sound come from your lover. She brought a hand up to stroke your cheek softly, your body naturally leaning into her touch.

“As your wife.. I’d appreciate if you took at least a few days off. As your boss, though.. I am making you take a few days off.” She said, laughing at her own comment. This was a little game she liked to play every so often and it never failed to make a smile grace your features. You loved how much she cared for you, and this little move was something you did to each other much more at the beginning of your relationship but said every now and then still.

After a while, you were ready to go home, ultimately just wanting to cuddle up with the sapphire beauty under some blankets and relish in each others company. Adjusting to the crutch was definately something that you would have to get used to, something your wife tried to hide her laugh at. The bruises from catching yourself so hard were making themselves known, after a while - something Larissa couldn’t help but notice.

Your determination brought you out of the room and far down the hall before you had to stop and allow your body to catch up. Just as you were about to start again, you felt two strong hands at your waist move to your upper back and your knees. Letting out a small yelp as you were lifted into the air, you looked back only to be met with your wife’s confident smirk being thrown back at you.

“Having some trouble?” She asked, the mirth laced in her tone caused you to let out a laugh.

“You know I had it.. but thank you, love..” You replied, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck. With every breath you took, you inhaled more of her scent - the vanilla and rose making a warmth settle in your chest and a small blush sit on your cheeks. You truly would never grow tired of this.

“We can practice more as the weekend comes..” She said as you felt her strong strides make their way towards the outside of the hospital.

“I don’t know..” You said with a playful tone. “I could get used to this~ You could be my crutch,” you added with a giggle. The small comment made the blonde chuckle and look down at you. There was nothing but love and adoration in her eyes, and it never failed to give you butterflies.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek and kissed along her jaw to place an ending one on her lips, appreciating the light lipstick stains they left in their tracks. You settled back into the crook of her neck as exhaustion from the day was finally catching up to you.

“I love you, Riss.” You said as your eyes fluttered shut softly.

“I love you too, my darling girl.. Now, lets get you home.”

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𝐚/𝐧: hi everyone :)

I haven't been on my socials as much because I just finished my first week back at college (YAY FOUR DAY WEEKEND - i have no friday classes cuz my schedule worked out) so I'm still slightly adjusting

BUT!

I spend some of my free time trying to write so when I saw this ask I was ONE honored !! like guys this is my first ask this was so cute ! I hope you guys liked it ! and TWO i started on it right when I saw it. It's nice to get a little break form my other writing to get some more creativity flowing

I'll be on here and my other socials more on weekends since I don't have classes, but since this is a passion it won't be strictly weekends lmao. ill be floating arounnnnnndddd

I hope you enjoyed this one! I'll be changing my page around a bit after I post this so it's on my pinned :)

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@eveymay

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

[themissingmango]

[candylace18]

Happy Monday everyone! Hope your all having a swell night 🌙 😊

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

MxN Week Day 1: Strength

@senshixshitennouweeks

“Fifty-Nine… Sixty!”

Makoto let herself hang from the chin-up bar, sending a challenging look towards her work-out buddy.

“What’s my time,” she asked.

Brown eyes met her gaze and she tried to write off those butterflies in her stomach as just post-work out jitters.

“A minute better than last time,” Nat said, “wanna try for a run?”

A quick drought from her sports bottle and Makoto follows him to the indoor track.

She really shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts.

She doesn’t even know his name. But she’d memorized every part of him by now. Ever curve and swell of the muscles his workout gear showed off, ever strand of long, wavy hair that he usually keeps tucked into a bun during their sparring sessions or reps.

Really, she’s a 29-year-old woman. Should she really be panting after someone like she’s only fourteen again?

Especially when that someone’s tight ass is in front of her, God, and everyone else in dark red shorts that make her blood pressure jump.

She needs to get a hold of herself. Nat was her trainer. She needed to repeat that over and over in this head

“Hey.”

His voice breaks her out of her illicit thoughts. Makoto jogged up beside the object of her affections.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I was just thinking…” he said, “well, you know…”

“Yes…”

Wait, could this be it? Was he asking what she thought he was asking?

“When we’re done with the run, do you think…”

“Yes…?”

Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Do you want to do strength training, maybe?”

She should have realized. In spite of the disappointment pooling in her chest, Makoto tries to smile.

“Sure. Strength training. That sounds good.”

“So, you failed again?”

Nat threw his gym bag into the hall closet of the apartment he shared with three other people.

“Shut up,” he said.

From his office, Zane rolled into the room on a swivel chair.

“Why is Nat telling you to shut up again?” he asked.

“He chickened out asking that one girl from the gym on a date,” Jude said, before returning to the book he was reading.

“I’ll ask her when I’m good and ready,” Nat said.

“Which could be never,” Jude said.

Nat scoffed and let the bathroom door slam shut behind him. They haven’t seen her. Makoto was…

How could he even describe her?

The moment she’d walked into the gym, he’d nearly dropped a dumbbell on his foot. She was just under six feet tall at least, definitely muscled and (God forbid he say it) stacked like pancakes.

The moment she’d asked for a spotter, he’d volunteered and spent the next hour watching as she broke records on the ropes and dominated the ring.

Dominate.

He grumbled to himself as he climbed into the shower as visions of Makoto standing on his chest, confidence brimming off of her, flooded his mind.

The gym didn’t need a damn lawsuit.

Nat turned the cold water on all the way to the left and let the shocking chill hit his skin, hopefully easing his frustrations.

But as much as he hated to admit it, Jude was right. If he kept putting it off like this, he’d never ask Makoto out and someone else would probably…

He couldn’t finish the thought.

Nat grabbed the shampoo and aggressively began to lather his hair.

Monday. He would ask her out on Monday come hell or high water. He’d ask her out to that little café on main street first thing when she walked through the doors and make sure to accept it if she turned him down. And if she said yes, make sure she had the best date ever. Yeah, he thought, no more strength training excuses. Next time, he’d ask “Makoto, do you want to go on a date with me?"

[thotsforvillainrights]

Hiii I hope your pregnancy is going oh so smooth!! (I am curious have you had any weird cravings or anything? If so what’s your favorite one?)

And Can dad twice and jun return? (Imagine if the reader dyed juns hair half grey and half black like twices mask)

(Anon, I'm putting the baby info at the end below a line so it doesn't junk up the ask for you! So anyone wanting info on the pregnancy so far, hit read more line!)

(AND HELL YEAH! DAD TWICE MAKES A RETURN!)

~Mini Makeover~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-The first dad!Jin content was done about a year or two ago so let's touch back down on that in case anyone has forgotten! Again, Jin is the best dad ever on top of being the best spouse. Ever since Jun was born (or adopted), she'd had him in his corner at all times. Should she ever need anything in the world, he'll be there without question for her. She is in fact the center of his entire world...or dare I say his universe!

-On top of everything else, she's very spoiled but lacks a nasty attitude you'd expect to come along with it thankfully. He's been trying to take it down a notch for a very long time, and is just now managing to learn how to say no to her. Of course it crushes every bit of him to do so, but he knows it's important to be done occasionally. One of the things he's been wrestling with is her altering her appearance at such a young age.

-Jun has budded from a silly and curious 2 year old to an independent 4 year old with a big voice. She speaks her little mind and doesn't lack any confidence no matter the situation at hand. So that's why when she came home from school in a gloomy mood, you were admittedly both worried sick about her. With some careful prying you were able to get a good handle on what happened. There was a new little girl in her class today and supposedly the kid was very popular with the others. Her defining trait you ask? The rainbow colored dye hair.

-So with a kids this young it's understandable everyone would be excited to see hair like that. It was a long night after you'd put Jun to bed. You were the one that tried to convince Jin to let her go through with it and man was he stubborn as hell with you for the first time since dating. He was concerned about the chemicals or the dangers of doing it. On top of that, he didn't want he to lose confidence in her natural features at such a young age or become obsessed with having to change herself for the approval of others. "She doesn't need tom change her hair. It's already two toned." He referred to her natural singular blonde streak she possessed.

-After pulling out every single tactic you had to use against him (yes...that too) you were finally able to convince him to let you dye her hair. The very next day was a Saturday and the weekend. You and Jun had went to the store to find some non-toxic and kid friendly hair dye along with a few cute accessories and some new shoes too. You'd returned home and kissed Jin on the cheek as a thank you for letting you do it. He had to admit it made his heart flutter when he watched his daughter rush past him into the bathroom to eagerly go through with the process.

-When she'd emerged she seemed even more confident than ever before. He sighed a bit of relief to notice it didn't seem all that bad either. She'd chosen a half black half grey dye job because apparently it reminded her of 'daddy's mask' (which obviously made his heart swell with warmth all over again for his little girl. You'd decided Monday to let him pick her up from school so he could get whatever details on her day she would give him. It seemed to be the right choice since he'd come home smiling more widely than her. There wasn't a thing in the world that could bring him down when he knows his child is happy.

*TW for me talking too much about personal stuff*

(Oh anon things are a little rough but this ask was sent in a while back so it's when we didn't know. But in case anyone else was wondering, the baby has been diagnosed with like 3 different heart deformities and will need surgery as soon as he's born. Like within the first week of birth, and has to be put on a special medication. Meanwhile, my husband and I have essentially been scheduled a crap ton of doctor appointments both in town AND and hour/and half away from home as well. I'll have to give birth in my state's main hospital instead of the one home so that means I won't be close to family. The baby will have to heal in the ICU for a month straight so I lost my opportunity at a happy pregnancy, the newborn phase, and any hope for skin to skin contact after birth. Whew what a mouthful! Anyway, I'm taking it one day at a time, and I appreciate you and anyone that checks in on me here and there!)

[slutforstabbings-archive]

Clean Again

Chapter 4: PREY read on AO3| previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras!

Corey and Reader's paths cross... and cross and cross.

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - stalking

4,139 words

@rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity@multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm @ethanhoewke dm me or reply to this post to be added to the tag list 💕

Things have been quiet for a while. You heard through the grapevine that Hurley finally did go to LA. The scene restructures in his absence, old bands break up, new bands form. The new year brings a new semester at the college in town, causing an influx of fresh faces. Everyone moves on. 

Your little mending business suffered some from the incident, but you get the idea to offer gift cards for the winter holiday season, which packs the beginning of the year with projects. Your faithful sewing machine has been making some unfortunate noises, and on a Saturday afternoon in February it finally gives up with an angry grinding sound. Well, shit.

Monday after work you swing by the library. A sewing machine can’t be that hard to fix. I’ll just get a couple of books on the subject and be fine, you think to yourself as you search the computer catalog. You find a few prospects and scribble the call numbers on a scrap piece of paper. When you enter the aisle there’s a man at the other end. You ignore him, lost in thought about being set back on your sewing tasks. But as you scan the bookshelf you feel him staring at you intently. You look up at him just as he looks away.

To your surprise, he’s… beautiful. There’s no other word for it. You feel warmth swell in your chest as you look at the curly chestnut locks hanging over his forehead, the mismatched golden stubble along his jaw. The slope of his nose. The clean nails on his freckled fingers as he pulls a book down from the shelf. You look away quickly, not to let him be the one to feel you staring. 

Why am I here again? You ask yourself, mildly intoxicated. You look down at the scrap of paper in your hand. The books you’re looking for are further in the direction of the man, whose eyes you can feel returning to you. You shuffle down the aisle, trying not to look like you want to stand closer to him. The books you’re looking for really are over there, but you feel so stunned by his appearance that you’re suddenly self conscious. You edge closer, making a show of comparing book call numbers to your scrap of paper, hoping to really sell that you’re just trying to find what you came for. 

Again, you look at him right as he looks away. You’ve closed the gap considerably now and you think it shouldn’t be possible, but in the still air of the library, you can smell him. He smells so good. A woody, aftershave-y smell, a tobacco smell, and another scent you think you recognize. Motor oil, maybe? You feel feverish. You don’t believe in love at first sight. You never have. Yet something is happening to you as you look at this stranger. Lust or infatuation or… something. It’s oddly powerful, like falling under a spell. 

You only look away for a second this time, and when you look back you catch him. Your eyes lock instantly and you feel your breath falter. For a split second you feel terror, like a rabbit in a trap. You almost bolt away from him, straight out the door of the library, to jump in your car and peel out of the parking lot too fast to put your seatbelt on. The fear is gripping, but fleeting. Then the warmth immediately returns. Without warning your face splits open, a dazzlingly genuine smile bursting forth. And the man smiles back. For one, two, almost three beats he smiles back at you, resplendent in the glow of the fluorescent lights above. Then he jams his books under his arm looking mortified, and hurries away. Leaving you flustered and alone in the aisle. You stand there, floored, for a second. Then you pull out your phone with shaky hands and type a note. Monday at 3:57 pm.

You check out three sewing machine repair manuals. Some evenings after work you attempt to sit down with them and figure them out. But the diagrams are complicated and whenever you take time with them, your thoughts turn to the beautiful man. You replay the interaction over and over again. You see his smile in your head, the way his eyes crinkled and his lips curled. 

Monday comes and you almost go to the library. You drive past on your way home from work but you tell yourself to wait. You have to wait so it doesn’t look like you’re bumping into him on purpose. You agonize for another week. You wander the hygiene aisles at the grocery store, telling yourself you aren’t smelling the various bottles and jars looking for his scent. This is crazy, you think over and over. I’ve gone crazy. Until finally it’s Monday again.

You walk through the doors at 3:50. While you find it extremely tempting to just go stand in the row of hobby books and hope he’s there, you resist the urge. This is crazy. You chant it like an affirmation in your head. Feeling so strongly about a smile from a stranger is crazy. Trying to bump into him again is crazy. You’d thought about his face so often in the last two weeks, but you aren’t sure you’ll even recognize it. You smelled so many potions at the drugstore, but will you even recognize his scent? What if you do see him again? What then? Do you really want to risk your peace so soon?

You move through the stacks slowly, trying to actually think about books, willing an interesting cover to catch your eye.

3:55

You wander through memoirs and graphic novels. You stand in front of the massive collection of Stephen King books. You reach out and put a finger on the copy of Carrie you renewed over and over, then you move on. You thumb through DVDs in the visual media section.

4:01

Why did you even assume he would be at the library on the same day of the week, at the same time?

You think you feel someone staring at you, but when you look around the library it looks deserted. And it’s so quiet, weirdly quiet, like they closed for the night and left you here alone. You glance behind you again, holding your breath, feeling uneasy. Then you hear the beeping of the scanner at the checkout. The door to a reading room gets closed a little too hard. Someone wearing heels clicks across the tile floors and there’s laughter from the teen section, followed by frantic shushing. Maybe you really are going crazy.

You pull out your phone as you walk towards the door, thinking of texting Veronica, or doing anything more normal than lurking around the library hoping to get a glimpse of a stranger.

Then you smell it. The scent you couldn't find. You look up as you round a corner and collide with him, hard. Your vision goes white for a split second. His chin bounces off the crown of your head and he takes a few reeling steps backwards. Your phone clatters to the floor and slides away from you.

“I’m so sorry!” You half whisper, half shout. “Are you okay?”

He rubs his chin with one hand, but he nods. He doesn’t say anything. He just squats down to reach your phone, then holds it out to you. His eyes are like warm, rich caramel, but his gaze is impenetrable. 

“Hey, while you have it, why don’t you put your number in there?” You say, trying to stay cool. “Since we have adjacent hobbies.” You gesture towards the aisle you first saw him on, two weeks ago. 

His composure breaks. Color rises in his cheeks and he casts his eyes downward. 

“Oh, I, uh…” he stutters, trying to press the phone back into your hand. As soon as you get a grip on it, he’s turned away from you and towards the exit. He covers the distance in wide strides. You stand there, mouth agape, watching him go.

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

Out in the parking lot Corey sucks on the inside of his lip. When your head hit his chin it made him bite down, and now he’s bleeding. He straddles his motorcycle and savors the taste of blood. It’s been a long time since he tasted blood. Violent thoughts start to bubble inside him, rushing up his throat like vomit. Then he thinks of your face and the dark thoughts dissipate. A second time. He can’t believe he saw you a second time. It’s not that unrealistic in a town this size, but he didn’t dare dream that he would. The way you smiled at him the first time. It felt like being flayed open. It felt like being tucked into bed. It felt like being kicked in the ribs by steel toed boots. It felt like coming home.

Since Corey started his new life he’s done his best not to look at women, not even old lady Joanna. He glances at them when necessary. What if they look like Allyson? What if they look like his mother? What if they catch him looking and sense the evil inside of him, their fear making them a problem at work or the grocery store? What if they think he’s interested in them and make an advance? What if he is interested in them?

A woman could threaten everything. He works hard for his stupid little existence, trying to be inconspicuous and clench his jaw around his pain, pretending the first 24 years of his life happened to someone else. A woman would ask questions. A woman would want him to go places, and if he starts going places he might be recognized. He still fears being recognized, like a rescue dog, now in a loving home, still fears the broom. No one had shown him any inkling they knew who he was since he left the hospital. But a woman might google him.

Staring at you that first day was a mistake. He shouldn’t have even cast his eyes in your direction, but he had, and for the first time his resolve not to look had been tested. He couldn’t articulate why. There was just something about you that he needed to see. You were beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. And there was the way you smiled at him. A soothing balm on his chapped life. He wished he was worthy of someone looking at him that way. Then seeing you again today. Touching you, accidentally, violently. He can’t believe you asked for his number. 

Corey swallows hard and revs his motorcycle. He flies out of the parking lot and zips down the road. He takes a hard left turn, then another, then another, circling back towards the library. He slows and pulls into the parking lot of the shopping center across the street. Backing into a parking spot with a good vantage point, he drops the visor of his helmet, hoping against hope that he hasn’t missed you coming out of the building. He just wants to see your car and memorize your license plate. Inside his helmet he laps at the gouge left by his teeth. No longer actively bleeding but still tasting salty and metallic. The dark thoughts suppressed by his focus on watching for you.

He doesn’t have to wait long. By some miracle the timing is perfect. Here you come. Looking down at your phone as you walk across the parking lot. Pay attention to where you’re walking. Observe your surroundings. Someone might be watching you. Someone is watching you. Watching as you climb into a crusty early 2000’s Dodge Neon. He can’t believe his luck that the car is facing away from him, license plate clearly visible. And he can’t believe that you sit there for several minutes before starting the car, giving him plenty of time to study the details. The oblong dent in your right rear bumper. The patches of flaking paint. The residue on the window from your semi-failed attempt at removing an old parking decal. A car he will now be able to recognize anywhere. 

Eventually you crank the engine. Corey can hear faint strains of your music coming to him as you drive away. 

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

When you get home you’re all aflutter. This is crazy!, you remind yourself. It's only been a couple months since you finally got rid of your last mistake. You desperately need to slow your roll. But the beautiful man has bewitched you. You have to get to know him now. You try not to imagine what he’s like, not to project anything onto him, so you’re less likely to be disappointed. You’re already obsessing, the last thing you need is to build a fantasy version of him in your head.

You commit to trying to spend the rest of your night not thinking about him. The sewing machine is still jammed and the repair manuals are still incomprehensible, so you set yourself up in the living room to do some hand sewing. You put on Who the (Bleep) Did I Marry? Something mindless and low quality to provide you with noise while you go blind and cover your fingers in tiny pin pricks mending. Your clients are getting impatient with how long the repairs are taking, but they don’t understand how expensive taking it to a repair shop would be, especially without the money you’d be making if your machine wasn’t broken. You’ve had to turn a few people away. 

An idea strikes you. The man from the library was looking at books near the machine repair manuals. Maybe he knows something about that kind of thing. Maybe, just maybe, if you see him again, you can ask him to help you. Is that weird? It might be weird. But if he doesn’t think it’s weird, it would be the perfect excuse to spend some time with him. You can’t pay him in cash, but maybe you can barter with him or something.

You relax into your mending, knowing you have a plan. Maybe you’ll actually be able to go the rest of the night without thinking about him now. 

Several hours later, you wake suddenly. For a second you’re not sure where you are, then the living room comes into focus. It’s gloomy in your apartment. The only light comes from the TV, stuck on the screen asking if you want to keep watching. A pair of jeans rests in your lap, the half-mended hole in the leg trapped inside an embroidery hoop. You hear the low rumble of an engine outside. You toss the jeans into the armchair and stumble to the kitchen. You pull a glass from the dish drainer and fill it with tap water. The water in this town has always tasted terrible, but you gulp it down ravenously, spilling all over yourself in the process, soaking your shirt in big, dark streaks.

By the time you chug a second glass, you realize the engine sound is still outside. You cross the apartment to the window that faces the street and peer out. In the dark you think you can see the outline of a person sitting on a motorcycle with the lights off, but you can’t be certain. The street lamps are spaced far apart in this neighborhood, and the motorcycle, if there is one, is parked in the gap between their amber pools of light. Reasoning that you’re just sleepy, you withdraw from the window, turn the tv off, and trudge to bed. 

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

Corey sits on his motorcycle, letting it idle even though he knows the noise is suspicious. He had thought about following you home but denied himself. He needs to be smart about you. Careful about you. If he frightens you and you call the cops, everything will be over. And if he falls too deeply into an obsession with you, that could turn out even worse. 

The idea of you brings up so many tortured emotions he can hardly stand it. He had been prepared to die if he couldn’t have Allyson. He tried to die. But fate or God or sheer bad luck kept him alive. How can he ever allow someone that close to him again?

No, he didn’t let himself follow you. But somehow, on an aimless midnight ride to try to clear his head, he rode past the car he had memorized earlier. He didn’t believe his eyes and drove a wide circle back around. There it was. Your car. Your dented bumper. Your license plate. Is this where you live? He pulls the motorcycle into the shadows and kills the lights. He observes your apartment building, trying to glean any additional information about you. 

When Corey detects movement in a window on the first floor, he freezes. He strains his eyes, trying to see the person who is trying to see him. In your window you are illuminated by sickly blue light. Your shirt appears wet with something dark. For a split second you look like you’re covered in blood. It reminds Corey of how you’ve already made him bleed, and he sucks on the wound in his bottom lip. You disappear from the window. He counts to 10 to make sure you won’t be back. Then he speeds away into the night.

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

At work on Monday you’re practically vibrating. You’re so nervous to attempt your plan. This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy. He is just a man,  you tell yourself. But your nerves aren’t calmed by that. Veronica notices and traipses over to you, joining you in your task.

“What’s got you in a tizzy?” She asks.

“I’m not in a tizzy!” You say, sounding more defensive than you meant to. “No one has been in a tizzy since the 1950’s, at least .”

Veronica laughs. “No one until today.”

A customer at the listening station drops the needle on song two of Death Cab’s Narrow Stairs. You and Veronica stand there, sorting records in  a practiced, almost robotic way. You consider if you should tell her. You haven’t mentioned your little obsession to anyone. Despite consuming a large portion of your thoughts for going on three weeks now, there’s really nothing to tell. Nothing that isn't completely mortifying. You can't lay bare how much time you've spent thinking about him, can't tell her about your little grocery store ritual. A guy would be lucky for Veronica to think about him once he left her line of sight. She makes you feel like a creep by comparison. 

“It’s so stupid,” you start, setting your pile of records down. Veronica raises her eyebrows. “I keep bumping into this guy at the library. Like, I literally, physically bumped into him last week. But that wasn’t the first time I saw him. And he’s really good looking.”

“Okay…” Veronica says. She motions with her hand for you to keep going. 

“The reason it’s stupid is that like, that’s kind of all that’s happened. We’ve just seen each other. But…” Trailing off, you consider if you should tell her you asked for his number and he ran away. You don’t want to admit that he’s already kind of rejected you. It doesn't even really seem like it counts, but you decide to leave that part out. “But something about him seems special. Hard to put my finger on. I just like his vibe, I guess. I’m going to the library after work. If he’s there again, I wanna ask him to hang out.”

“His vibe.” Veronica repeats, nodding. She seems to be thinking something, but she just asks “What’s his vibe like?”

“Like… Really masculine but in a soft way? He seems like he thinks a lot but doesn’t say much.”

“You get that just from seeing each other at the library?”

You shrug. A customer approaches the register and Veronica goes to help them, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your sorting. You can tell she has more to say, but she’s too busy the rest of your shift to talk much.

As you leave for the day she shouts to you, “Good luck with Mr. Library!” You hurry out the door. 

In the library parking lot, you squeeze your steering wheel rhythmically. You curl your toes up tightly in your shoes, then relax them. You flip open the cover for the mirror in your visor and look yourself in the eyes. You make a silent deal with yourself. If he’s not here, or if he says no, I’m not thinking about him ever again. I’m going to the other branch of the library for a while. And I’ll tell Veronica it turns out he was boring. 

Then you go into the library before you can change your mind. 

Inside, you retrace your steps from last week. Memoirs. Graphic novels. Fiction. DVDs. No sign of him. You look over the tops of the shelves to the clock on the wall. 3:58. You’re right on time. 

You feel vibrations in your pocket. You don’t have to look to know it’s Veronica.

You roll your eyes but laugh a little to yourself.

Still smiling, you look up. There he is, at the end of the aisle. Your smile broadens. You raise your hand and give him a little wave. He hesitates, then waves back.

You start towards him, but before you can even take two steps, he’s gone. You make it to the end of the aisle and see no trace of him. You turn the direction you saw him go in, come to the end of another aisle, and see him off to your right, turning a corner. He’s so fast! But it seems like he’s going towards the section where you first saw him, so rather than follow him, you turn around and take a different path.

You’re half-sprinting through the shelves. You realize that this is embarrassing, that this is crazy, even more embarrassing and crazy than all the shampoo sniffing you did after you first saw him. But it’s kind of exhilarating, like playing tag for the first time in 15 years. You emerge from the media stacks and slow down to a power walk as you pass the reference desk. The librarian stationed there ignores you, but you still wait until you’re out of their sight to break back into a trot. You see the sign at the end labeling the aisle you're looking for and plunge into it. 

He isn’t there. But before you can wonder if you misjudged his route, he rounds the corner. A look of real surprise flashes over his face.

“Hi,” you say to him, slightly breathless. “Do you know anything about sewing machines?”

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

Corey lays in bed, looking up at the water stained ceiling in the dark. In his mind he sees the image of you, already in the hobby aisle before him. A mischievous glint in your eye. Your chest heaving slightly. He replays the dawning realization that you hadn’t just chased him. You’d set a trap, and it worked. The feeling of being bested by a better hunter. The arousal of being caught. He’d hoped to give you the slip, get his books, then follow you wherever you went when you left. Instead, you got the better of him. And then you smiled at him, the way you’d smiled at him every time. Totally unreserved, completely genuine. Blistering, like standing too close to a bonfire. Against his better judgement, he’d agreed to come to your house on Wednesday evening. 

He does something now he hasn’t done in a long time. He talks to Allyson. He conjures her up in his mind, glowing with golden light. That’s what angels are supposed to look like, right?

I met someone, he tells her. I’m fascinated by her. Before I met you, I wanted to be invisible. When I knew I couldn’t have you, I tried to erase myself completely. I’d always wanted to kill myself but I thought I was such a fuck up, I’d find a way to fuck that up too. I was right. But it did make me invisible. People look at me, but they don't see me. No one has seen me in over a year. Except for her.

Allyson, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault you’re dead. I swore I’d never let anything happen to you, but I broke my promise. I didn’t deserve your kindness or trust. And I don’t deserve someone new either, but I can’t stay away from her. Please protect her. Don’t let what happened to you happen to her. Help me keep the wicked, vile, evil pieces of me small enough to be forgotten.

[theadventurek9]

On Monday I went out for a hike with Aayla and some dogs I was watching.

One that hike I was walking and reached out to feed one of the dogs I was sitting and Aayla, having only dog syndrome, ran to try and get it across my body.

I tripped over her stepping on her pastern. She yelped but seemed fine when I checked her over and ran around the rest of the day. That evening she got up from a nap and was limping. Examination had some heat around her elbow and down to her pastern.

Well shit.

Did some anti-inflammatories for 36 hours with rest and she seemed to get better and better each day until she was no longer limping by Wednesday and without medication.

So we decided to take a short hike on Thursday because everyone was restless. Sure enough that night she was limping again with some heat, but no swelling.

How is it that I decided to skip an ASCA agility trial for fear she might twist something or get hurt before nationals and instead I trip over her and hurt her. 😭

So now we are going to do another 36 hours of anti-inflammatories and she is going to have leashed walks that are under 30 minutes up until we leave for Texas on Tuesday.

She isn't supposed to compete until Saturday so we have over a week to see how she feels. I'll scratch whatever classes I need to if she is still in any pain. Overall I just hope that she can be okay for obedience finals on the 31st. Which if she isn't I will be scheduling a vet visit. That's about 11 days away.

[vivaamor]

the relationship agreement

warnings: swearing, king steve, high school au

relationships: steve harrington/ female reader

summary: steve proposes a fake relationship

word count: 3.9k

note: this is a series. i should have two chapter uploaded each week at least, let me know what you think. this will be a slow burn as steve and y/n open up to each other, eventual smut, and small mentions of violence.

chapter one

science always fascinated you. you liked that almost everything had an answer, yet there was so much that still needed answered. science was a never-ending field, one that would never die. chemistry, specifically interested you. it was a hands-on class, one in which you got do labs and experiments. you enjoyed the process of making observations and then making a hypothesis from there. although it was the one class you didn't know anyone in, besides jonathan byers, you didn't mind working by yourself.

everything in your life seemed so loud, so chaotic. it was nice to have one hour of total solidarity. one hour of curing your curiosity. that was until one month before prom, two months before graduation.

instead of intently listening to mr. hanson while he gave a lecture about chemical properties, you were begging for the bell to ring. having stayed up late reading catcher in the rye for your english class, you were exhausted and couldn't wait to go home. "next class we will be doing the first of a series of labs and you'll write a report on each one with your partner. i hope you do well because your grade on the labs will count towards your grade for the final. find a partner and let me know who it is." mr. hanson glances down at the clock on his watch. he fake-coughs at you, wanting your attention. you didn't even realize you were staring holes in the back of jonathan's head.

you'd known jonathan since the fifth grade. he was a swell guy and back when you were making macaroni art, the two of you were best friends. the majority of your childhood was spent in the byers' living room. you'd grown apart in middle school but you always admired him, always thought he was cute. you loved how involved he was in his family, the love he had for his mom and brother. he was your idea of a dream boyfriend. "well, that's all i have for today. so, hang out until the bell rings and i'll see you all on monday." he smiled, returning to behind his desk.

you tap your fingers against the lab table you were sat at, waiting for the bell to ring in three minutes when there's some movement next to you and the chair besides you is pulled out, squeaking underneath someone's weight. you look to your right and it's steve harrington. king steve, as your peers called him. you didn't really call him anything, you didn't know him. stevehad quite the reputation at hawkins high. known for his attitude, spot on the basketball team and the line of girls willing to jump him at any given second, you thought he was kind of a douchebag. he doesn't say anything to you at first, just looking down at a copy of the same book you binge-read last night, catcher in the rye. he was in your english class as well.

"can i help you?" you ask, confused. you were a nice girl, everyone knew you for being nice. you hated how that was the main thing that stuck out about you. it made you a background character, maybe comedic relief in a romantic comedy. he looks you up and down, looking at what you're wearing. today, you'd gone with a jean skirt and a white top, layering with a grey cardigan and converse. your clothing matched you- nothing special.

he puts the book down on the lab table, folding in the corner of the page he left off on. "lab partners?"

you giggle to yourself, freezing when he quirks an eyebrow. he's not joking. "oh, you're serious?"

"of course i'm serious. what kind of a lame joke would that be? kind of mean, too." he gives you a look, putting his hand out. "steve harrington."

you decide to humor him, shaking his hand. "y/n." you look behind yourself, two skinny blondes burning holes in the back of your head. "i'm surprised you aren't partnering with your fan club."

"no, they'll partner up together, i'm sure." he shrugs, waving to the girls. they drop the death stare and smile enthusiastically at him. "so, what do you say? lab partners?"

"oh, right. sure." you reply, figuring, why not? it did peg you as kind of odd that out of everyone in the class, he wanted to be your partner. you gather your things and stand to your feet, making a bee line for the door in hopes of going home and taking a nap.

"see you, y/n!" he calls after you and you only offer him a small, awkward smile in return.

-

"you're telling me that steve harrington basically cornered you into working with him?" your best friend, nancy raises an eyebrow at you, elbowing your other friend, gwen. "i call bull shit." nancy was what you would call popular as well. but not in the skeezy, douchey was steve was. she was feisty, but kind. all of her facial features along with her closet screamed perfect.

"no, he did." you reply, walking out the front doors of the school with her. "i'm telling you, nance, it was weird. and everyone was staring at us, i didn't wanna embarrass him and tell him no. i've never even talked to him before today."

nancy shrugs, "steve harrington is full of mystery. you never know what his next move will be." you hum, stopping at the end of the sidewalk, where you part ways. "i'm just saying be careful."

"i always am."

she sighs, "you want a ride?"

you shake your head no, "no, it's nice out. i'm gonna walk. thanks, though." you wave goodbye to nancy and walk to the end of the sidewalk, crossing through the grass through the football field since you and your uncle lived behind the school about two blocks. you pull out your walkman and put the headphones over your ears, pressing play and humming along to the music.

music was a safe place to you. it allowed you to drown out all the other noise and purely focus on the beat and the rhythms, drown yourself in the lyrics. and it's because of those lyrics that you don't see the large boy running toward you until he's only about a foot way. "jesus!" you gasp, eyes blown wide, your take the headphones off, letting the rest around your neck.

"shit, sorry. didn't mean to scare you." steve chuckles, putting his hands up in surrender. he'd been changed into red basketball shorts, along with a grey tee that read hawkins high basketball league. "whatcha listening to?"

what the hell is going on with the universe today? "uh, the talking heads," you look around, not seeing anyone else on the football field. "are you following me?"

"what? no." he points behind you and you turn around, looking at the outdoor basketball court next to the football field. "me and some of the guys on the team wanted to get some practice in before tonight, and i saw you walking alone. figured you'd want some company."

you purse your lips, crossing your arms over your chest. "that's really sweet, but i'm okay. thanks, though." you wave to him, walking past him in the direction of your house. but when you look to your side, there he is, walking along with you. "jesus!" he laughs to himself, shaking his head at your jumpiness. "maybe start announcing yourself when you're around?"

"got it." he smirks, "y/n, wait." he pulls at your arm and you freeze, facing him. "i sort of have a proposal for you and i'm really hoping you'll say yes."

"a proposal?" you ask, taking out your water bottle.

he nods, "i need you to fake go out with me." you nearly choke on your water. "i've been on and off with stacey, right?" you shrug. "everyone's always in my business, it's okay. i know everyone knows we broke up again. but it's for good now."

"okay..."

"my parents have always hated stacey." imagine that. "my car- it's a piece of utter crap and my parents are loaded." that was also another obvious one. steve and his friends, they always had the nicest shoes, new clothes, and cars as soon as they hit the age of sixteen. "it keeps breaking down and i need a new one. parents said that if i bring home a nice girl and bring my grades up, they'll get me a new one that i can bring to college."

chewing on your lip, you ask if not the most obvious question. "why don't you just tell them you're not dating anyone?"

"they know better than that. i've always had a girlfriend since like the eighth grade." you give him a look. "i move on fast, alright? just meet my parents and act like we're dating."

"that's it? just come to a family dinner?" you ask, a hint of suspicion in your tone.

he chuckles nervously. "well, not exactly." you raise an eyebrow with him, about done with the conversation. "the school, our peers, they, uh... i kind of have a reputation." you shrug, acting as if you're not aware. "come on, be honest. what do you and your friends think of me? what does nancy think of me?" he asks, knowing fully well that your best friend doesn't like steve very much. steve had hooked up or dated almost all of her friends before she started hanging out with you and gwen.

you stagger, fumbling with your hands. "i don't know. you never really come up." he stares you down, wanting an honest answer. "okay, fine. she thinks you're a slut."

"and she's not the only one. my friends are constantly making jokes and even all my teachers think i'm a complete dick. i don't want that kind of reputation. i haven't had a relationship that lasted longer than a couple weeks."

"so?"

he grins, "so, i need you act like we're dating to my parents and the whole school." oh, fuck. "just until graduation, and then we go our separate ways."

"even nancy?"

"she couldn't keep a secret if she tried."

you hold your hand up to him. "first of all, the nancy slander will not be tolerated. she's my best friend, respect that." he nods, putting his hands up in a surrender once again. "secondly, what do i get out of this?"

"a date to the prom, i promise i'll make it worth your while." you stare him down, you weren't even planning on going. "and i think it's obvious to everyone besides jonathan that you have the hots for him. pretend to be my girlfriend, and i swear he'll get jealous. and not that i need to add this, but you won't be hot girl nancy wheeler's loner best friend anymore."

you scoff, "you seriously think insulting me will get me to agree to this? 'cause it won't."

"okay, okay, sorry! just... please? i'm desperate. look, you're every parent's wet dream." he freezes, chuckling at himself. "i mean, you're what any parent would want their son to be with. you're really nice, insanely smart, respectable."

there's a long pause while you think. "if i do this... you're not going to hook up with some random girl and embarrass me?" he shakes his head. "fine."

"holy shit, for real? oh my god, thank you!" he beams, the biggest smile on his face. "write your phone number down for me, yeah?"

you grab a sharpie out of your bag and not being able to find any paper, you take his wrist in your hand, writing down the ten digits on his arm. "see ya." you turn your back to him again, walking away.

"bye, baby!"

-

as soon as you get home, your uncle is already sat at the kitchen table, newspaper in hand. "hi, sweetie." he greets, looking up at you through his glasses. "how was school?"

"good!" you smile, shrugging off your bag onto the table, sitting across from him. "here," you hold out your hand for the newspaper and he raises an eyebrow at you. "we both know you're only reading the comics, barney. come on."

he chuckles, nodding his head and handing you the local news section when the phone rings. "must be your aunt saying she'll be late." he says, getting up and reaching for the phone on the wall. "hello? barney here." he smiles, a look of confusion overtaking his features. "oh, alright. yes, she's here." he motions for you to come here. you stay sat, he couldn't have meant you. you never get phone calls, unless it's nancy wanting to come over and she was going to the basketball game tonight. he holds the phone his chest. "y/n, it's for you."

"oh. okay." you walk over to him, taking the phone. "hello?" you weren't expecting any calls.

"y/n? it's your boyfriend." you frown, you gave him your phone number only twenty minutes ago. "who was that answering? don't you have a phone in your room?"

"uh, no, just the one in the kitchen." you chuckle. phones are expensive, how would you afford to have your own? "that was my uncle. how can i help you?"

you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "what are you doing tonight?"

"homework?"

"no, no. sundays are for homework. today is friday and fridays are for sports. we have our last basketball game tonight and as y supportive, loving girlfriend, you need to be there." you groan, you'd been to two basketball games in your life. one was in sixth grade when jonathan was in the middle school league and the other was when nancy had just starting dating andrew federo. "y/n?"

"alright, yeah, i'll be there." you curse at yourself for being such a pushover. your uncle perks up, staring at you over the top of his newspaper. "yes, steve, i'll be there early."

"meet me in the locker rom at six forty-five and i know you've never been late a day in your life, so let's not break that streak today." he bids you a goodbye, hanging up the phone.

uncle barney sets down the newspaper on the table. "where ya goin'?" he asks, all smiles. he loved that you had plans, you never did. "and who's steve?"

"basketball game at the high school," you replied, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your cardigan. "oh, steve is just-" you think back to earlier, he's your boyfriend for the time being. "he's my boyfriend."

barney's face lights up, standing up and reaching for the phone. "boyfriend, huh? i gotta tell you aunt." he's grinning from ear to ear, different to how he usually smiled at you. and you realized-- for the first time in years, it wasn't one of sympathy.

-

you look yourself up and down in the womens room at the high school. you hadn't felt like you needed to change-- you were in the same clothing you'd worn to school earlier that day-- with the exception of blue jeans instead of the skirt. your hair was down in layers, tousled from being in a high ponytail all day. you glance at the clock on the wall, six forty-two. steve was right, you'd rather die an unruly death than be late. you sighed, thinking to yourself, i can't believe i'm doing this.

walking into the gymnasium, it was already nearly full, students and families filling the bleachers. you look around for nancy, who is waving at you and motioning you to come sit with her, a look of confusion filling her pretty features. you head for where she's sat, turning around when the crown begins cheering. and there's steve, running across the basketball court in your direction, already dressed in green basketball shorts and a basketball jersey, number twelve. "y/n!" he calls out once he's close enough, taking your hand in his and leading you out into the hallway. "you came."

"i did. you called, remember?" you smiled softly, looking around awkwardly as his eyes scanned over what you were wearing. he shakes his head, pulling you into the boys lockerroom. "steve!" you hiss, knowing full well you weren't supposed to be in there, obvious by the way there were boys still changing. you shielded your eyes with your hand, blindly following him further into the room.

he stops, coming to a halt in front of his locker. "you wear that to your boyfriend's basketball game?" you shrug, what were you supposed to wear? "uh, dammit," he opens his locker, rummaging through it until finding what he was looking for. "gimme," he takes your cardigan from you and tosses you an extra jersey. "wear this." you pull the jersey over your head and steve grinned. it was big on you, stopping at your mid thighs, and surprisingly, only smelled slightly of sweat. "there you go." you can feel the multiple stares of teenage boys, suddenly feeling insecure. "i'll see you out there." he winks, watching as you walk out of the locker room and back into the gymnasium.

nancy waves at you, her eyes blown wide when she sees what you're wearing. you make your way to her through the crowd, and sit next to her, where she's sitting on the first row of bleachers. "what in the hell are you wearing?"

"steve's jersey,"

she scoffs, "yeah, i got that. what i meant was why?"

"um..." you remember what steve said, she couldn't keep a secret if she tried. "we're kind of dating now." nancy mouth is open so wide, you would be surprised if her chin hadn't gotten dusty from the gymnasium floor.

"i'm sorry, what?" she shakes her head, praying that this is some fucked up dream. "what the hell happened? four hours ago, he was some creep stalking you."

you chuckled, you'd totally forgotten you told her about that. "he asked me to be his girlfriend after school today." nancy holds her chin in her hand, thinking. you felt like she was analyzing you, as if you were the lab she would take notes on in chemistry. "he's actually really sweet once you get to know him." you lie straight through your teeth, feeling insanely guilty. you and nancy never lied to each other, you always told her everything.

the game goes fine, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't bored. nancy loved going to games; she always sat with the other popular kids-- mainly friends and girlfriends/ boyfriends of the players-- but you? you'd rather be doing anything else. the game finally ends and while nancy is explaining to you how hawkins won, steve is jogging toward you. you don't see him until he's right in front of you, his hands surrounding your cheeks and bringing you closer until he can kiss you. you're shocked, frozen until you can process what the hell is going on and then your smaller hands find his forearms and you lean in, kissing him back. he lets go of you with a pop, smirking at you as everyone in the bleachers goes ballistic. he leans in, his lips close to your ear. "now that's what i call a good show." he winks, running off toward the locker rooms. your finger moves to your bottom lip, feeling over where he ad just kissed you. you're so focused on what just happened, you don't even hear nancy muttering what the fuck?

"they played so well," nancy notes to the group of girls you both were sitting with, walking down the court to the nearest exit. you smile, your mind too busy to focus on what they're even talking about until a hand falls on your lower back. you jump, turning around until you can see the intruder.

steve. "hi, baby." you immediately get into character and kiss his cheek, his hand finding yours and your eyes landing on the two people in front of you. "y/n, these are my parents-- mom, dad, this is y/n, my girlfriend."

his mom is absolutely beautiful, a big head of hair and pristine teeth on display when she smiles at you. his dad almost looks stuck up, his lips formed into a straight line. you can see how steve is a mix of the two adults standing before you. "oh, hi," you smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you offer your free hand to shake their hands. "nice to meet you, mrs. and mr. harrington." you offered your best polite smile, trying to make the best of the sudden interaction.

"oh, please, diane. this is frank," she gestures to her husband to introduce himself, but it seems he's dazed off-- thinking about something important. "frank." she warns, elbowing her husband like it's a warning.

"hm?" he looks up, and smiles a little. "oh, yes, y/n. nice to meet you." he looks to steve. "good game, son." and then back at you. "if you'll excuse us, we need to get going. i have a work call in an hour." he takes diane by her hand and leads them out.

steve scratches the back of his neck, waving goodbye to his parents with his free hand. "a man of few words." you stand next to him, watching his parents walk out of the gymnasium. "your mom's nice." he nods in response, his hands on his hips. "you're more chatty like your mom, though."

"i am not chatty."

you laugh, "yeah, sure. hey, didn't you get a detention for talking during class last week?"

"oh, shut it." you giggle again, looking up at him, not recognizing the expression on his face. his eyebrows are furrowed, hands on his hips, lips together in a straight-- he looked angry or maybe disappointed. and within a second, its replaced with normal king steve. "what're you looking at me for? want a picture?"

yup, there he is. "goodnight, steve." you walk away, joining nancy and her friends, leaving steve to stand there watching you walk away from him, too.

-

by monday, everyone and their mother has their eyes on you and steve. he'd driven you to school in his bmw, opening the door for you once he'd parked in the parking lot and walking inside alongside you. you were the shy, nice girl somehow friends with popular nancy wheeler, holding hands with king steve, the boy who ruled hawkins high. walking alongside steve gave you a whole different feeling that by yourself. with steve, you were confident, you felt respected because of whose hand enveloped yours.

"hey, y/n," jonathan smiled timidly when the two of you strolled into science together. steve nodded at jonathan, giving your hand a quick squeeze as if to say, it's working.

you squeezed back, lifting your head to meet jonathan's gaze. "hi, jonathan." you waved, taking a seat next to steve at your usual lab table.

"i'm gonna run to the bathroom real quick," he tells you, getting permission from the teacher and walking off. your attention is torn away from the book you'r reading when two girls stand in front of where you're sat.

confused, you flash them a friendly smile. "oh, hey tara, hi jane." they smile sarcastically back, waving at you with their manicured fingernails. "what's up?"

"we just wanted to say how brave we think it is for you to go out with steve." tara starts and you give her a confused look. "you know, since he's king steve, and you're..." she looks to jane, who proudly finishes her thought.

"and you're... well, you." jane smiles at you again, waving goodbye and walking away, the two girls snickering to each other. what the hell did that mean? what is wrong with you? and why did tara and jane feel the need to say something to you? you'd never even talked to them before.

steve jogs back in the room, taking his seat. "what'd i miss?" you shake your head.

"nothing."

a/n: let me know what you think and if i should continue :)