#i guess it particularly hurts bcs it feels like i'm falling behind

[cupcakesandtv]

Daxton + 1!!!

Also, do you think we could get a moment between them in which they are almost dating but devi is like "wait I have trauma and I am an emotional mess and I dont want to put him through that" so she tells paxton that she won't be with him and breaks things off between them and paxton is ofc upset because "don't you think I should decide what I can handle and what not?? I like you and want to get to know every part of you, not just the fun part" (or smth that would express how he wants her for who she really is) and she's like "oh damn, he actually cares about me" or smth like that?? Idk I just had an idea in my head and I like reading what you've got to say about daxton so yeah!

I know you handled the topic of devi thinking paxton will dump her bc of her handling her grief but this is like before they date so it's a bit different I guess......I'm sorry if it's the same!

Okay so...I tweaked the exact lines a little. I hope that’s okay! 

The morning was dragging. Paxton was sitting in English lit, a class he didn’t usually hate, but could not keep his attention on the teacher. Sure, he never was perfectly attentive, but lit wasn’t that bad. Mrs. Polk was an older lady with big coke bottle glasses and a hefty collection of scarves but she never called on him when he wasn’t paying attention to embarrass him in front of the class and she even told him that his papers had a “conversational feel” that she enjoyed so it wasn’t the worst class. If he had favorite classes, it might be up there. 

They were covering The Scarlet Letter and he’d watched Easy A enough times to get the point so Paxton checked out and was mentally in that warm spot reliving that time last fall when he actually got to kiss Devi Vishwakumar. It’s not like it was on constant repeat in his mind, he tried to save it for particularly boring moments. But in the last month or so it came up a lot because she was always around. Or he was always close to her. 

They did another group project together in history and then she convinced him to go to Fabiola’s underground robot fight club (it was a short lived event because it turned out nerds were deeply attached to their robots and cried when other robots hurt theirs but it was fun) and he’d started sitting with her at lunch more often using the robot thing and his questions for Fab as an excuse. But sitting next to Devi, putting his leg close enough that her’s touched his, that was a really good thing. He liked it. It was nice. And Devi told funny stories about wild stuff that happened in class and how she got herself into these ridiculous situations and then how she got out of them. He loved listening to her tell stories. 

She kept ending up in his space a lot more at school. Or he kept ending up in hers. He didn’t really know who was doing what but he was very into it and he was hoping that eventually their hangouts might end in more kissing because he really liked her. 

Mrs. Polk went on about Hester Prynne and Paxton looked at the clock as he rubbed his thumb across his pointer, thinking about how he held Devi’s chin when he kissed her and how her skin was smooth. She smelled like chlorine from the pool she’d fallen in and that was definitely a thing that was stuck in his brain now whenever he was in the pool...which was bad because he was a swimmer. He was in the pool a lot. 

He stretched his arms above his head and sighed, looking over his shoulder just for something to do, when he saw a flash of Devi through the glass on the back door of the classroom. He looked at the clock again, still 20 minutes of class left, so he raised his hand, asked to go to the bathroom, discreetly picked up his bag so he wouldn’t have to come back, and slipped out the back door. 

Devi was standing at her locker, hiding almost, behind the metal locker door, and that didn’t seem right. By the time he made it to where she was, he could see her eyes were puffy and instantly, he was on guard. “What’s going on?” he asked, gently as he could, when he really wanted to ask if he should be shoving someone in a locker on her behalf. He’d love an excuse to shove Ben Gross into a locker.  

Devi swiped furiously at her cheeks and gave him a fake smile. “I’m fine, no big, uh, allergies.” 

Paxton looked around, they still had plenty of time before the bell would ring and the halls would fill so it seemed reasonable to press her a little. He reached into the side pocket of his backpack and handed her a travel tissue pouch his mom was always putting in his bag. She looked at him sort of skittish (now he was really concerned) and took the tissue to wipe her eyes. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, leaning against the locker. 

She hesitated and bit her lip, not that he was looking at her lips. Okay, he was. They were very soft and he had just been thinking about kissing her minutes ago, he was only human. “I, uh, I had to miss fourth for a doctor’s appointment,” Devi said cautiously, “Well, not a doctor’s appointment, a therapy appointment. I usually have them after school but there was a scheduling thing and it’s stupid anyways and half the time when I leave therapy now I’ve sobbed like a baby because it’s exhausting to talk about hard stuff and feel all those dumb feelings and…” she trailed off and looked away. 

“Are you embarrassed that you go to therapy?” he asked, moving his head to try and look her in the eyes. “Because therapy is normal. I went to therapy for like a year in the sixth grade and Trent had this kickass therapist that helped him through his parents’ divorce. Therapy is chill. I mean, it’s not chill. You’re right, it's exhausting, but it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And your dad straight up died. Therapy seems like a good call.” 

Devi let out a little laugh, but it sounded like she might cry again, she smiled anyway and sniffed. Then took another tissue from the pack and looked in her locker mirror, running the tissue under her eyes to clear the smudge of mascara that the tears caused. 

“I just…,” she took a deep breath and turned back to him. “Are you just being nice? Do you really mean that?”

“No, I mean it,” Paxton said quickly, but then he took a second to process what she’d said. “I wouldn’t say something just to be nice, well, okay yeah, maybe I would. But that’s because I want to be nice to you. I like you. Like last week you said something about Doja Cat and I said she was cool even though that one song is entirely overplayed but what difference does it make? What’s wrong with me wanting to be nice to you?” 

Devi tilted her head a little confused, but she smiled so he’d take it. 

“I don’t think we should hang out anymore,” she said, her smile fell and he couldn’t breathe like the time he took a soccer ball to the gut and had the wind knocked out of him. 

“What?” He stood up straight. A minute ago he thought he might take her hand to make her feel better and now this? “Did I do something wrong?”

She closed her eyes and he saw a few more tears fall and he couldn’t help it, even confused, he reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek gently. She leaned into his hand and he really didn’t understand what was happening. Devi was saying one thing and then acting like that. It was weird. She opened her eyes and sniffed again, brushing at the tears on her face. 

“Shit, no, like not at all. Ever. Except maybe that Doja Cat thing you just admitted to.” She gave him a watery laugh and then looked down, defeated. 

“Can I get a little context as to why you don’t want to be my friend anymore then?” Paxton asked, desperate for something he could fix to make this not be a thing. The last thing he wanted was to not be Devi’s friend. And he thought they were working towards more than friends so what was this about?

“I’m too much.” She looked up at him briefly and then looked away again. 

“Too much?” Paxton couldn’t imagine what she meant because he wanted all the Devi he could get. 

“You’ve already had to rescue me a bunch of times and I come with all this baggage and I cry about my dad way more than when I was just pretending it wasn’t real,” Devi took a breath and opened her mouth like she’d keep going but he couldn’t let her. 

“Who told you that? Because I’ve never actually been in a fight but I’d like to punch anyone who said that to you.” 

Her face was all scrunched up but it looked like she’d stopped crying at least, and she looked at him, searching his face. 

“Nobody said that to me, except me, I guess. I’m too much.” Devi frowned and Paxton shook his head. “The Devi at lunch or at school, that’s a big part of me, right? But there’s all these other parts of me. The funky feeling in my stomach when an ambulance goes by and the way my mom pinches my legs, terrified they’re gonna stop working again when I’m stressed. Who would want to be friends with that Devi?” 

Paxton raised his arm in the air, hand up. “What are you doing?” she asked, confused. 

“Oh, sorry, I was answering your question. I was raising my hand. I want to be friends with that Devi.” Paxton said confidently, hoping that would convince her. “I’d like to be more than friends with that Devi. The whole Devi. All the parts.” Devi smiled, sort of pitiful, but she smiled so he put his hand down. “You’re not too much,” he lowered his voice, and took her hand. He ran his thumb across the back of it while she looked up at him through her lashes, eyes unsure. “Here’s me telling you that you’re not too much. If somebody thinks you’re too much, maybe they’re just not enough?”

“That’s cheesy as hell,” she said, but there wasn’t any sting in her words. She reached for his cheek with her free hand, her thumb brushed across his lips and Paxton tried not to get carried away. He wanted to kiss her but she was having a moment and he would follow her lead. “It doesn’t bother you? That I’m too much? That I’m like this?” 

“Why don’t you let me decide what I can and can’t handle,” he answered. “I like you. If I can’t convince you otherwise, then fuck, I guess I like you being too much.” 

A smile bloomed on her face, it started on her left side, that’s where her smiles always started, yes, he knew that, no, he didn’t have time to be embarrassed by it because she was leaning in. She pressed her lips to his and he sighed like he was finally where he was supposed to be. Every other girl he’d ever kissed? Didn’t hold a candle to Devi. He thought maybe he’d just convinced himself of that after it happened the first time, he thought in his crush addled brain he’d imagined it, but no, she was still the best kiss he’d ever had. Her lips were softer, her skin was smoother, she made this little whimpering noise when he moved his tongue against hers. This was the only person he wanted to kiss. Right here. 

The bell rang and people started to pour into the halls, but Devi didn’t let go of his face and he didn’t open his eyes. She kept her lips on his until people started to hoot and holler around them and some poor kid needed to get to the locker next to hers. When she finally pulled away, she hid in the curve of his neck and giggled. He felt her breath against the skin there and he liked it. 

Paxton liked all of her. 

[apathbacktoyou]

Okay since I didn't even know you were doing this and now that I know I'm gonna spam you with them. (sorry,notsorry). - Also feel free to not do any of them ofc xd. All of these are Bellamort cause I'm a sucker for them. 1 - the one where soulmates are reincarnated and keep finding each other throughout their different lives. 2 - the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you hear them say your name (imagine Bella only calling Voldy 'Tom' at the final Battle and only then - oh, my heart)

hello new fave person in the universe, pls spam me with bellamort, it’s both my main reason for living and 89% of my personality at this point

doing 2 first bc what is order or logic

The first time he speaks to her, she’s newly wed, and still forgets to react half the time someone adresses her as Madame Lestrange. She ends up looking behind herself for Rod’s mother rather more often than she’d admit if anyone pointed it out to her.

But there is something in his eyes that she can’t quite put a name to that always reminds her he’s speaking to her, no matter how unused she is to the new name. She almost likes it from his mouth.

She remains Madame Lestrange for a while, until she’s inducted into the Inner Circle, and is from then on called by her surname, like everyone else.

She still thinks the same name sounds different, somehow, when he’s speaking to her, and not her husband or brother-in-law.

Or maybe she just imagines it does because she wants it to. It’s more likely, if she’s honest with herself, since Roddy and Rabastan both turn aswell when he says their surname behind them.

The Dark Lord looks exasperated for a moment, then clarifies,”Bellatrix.“

She’s two steps towards him already when she stops dead in her tracks. Rod throws her an irritated look but then takes up conversation with his brother again. The Dark Lord wears a similar facial expression.”Is there a problem, Bellatrix?“

There it is again. And the feeling hasn’t gone away. She has no words for what it is. A sense of recognition, perhaps. The feeling of returning home. She opens her mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. She swallows hard, trying to keep her voice and hands from shaking.

“You’ve never called me that before,“she finally forces out; it sounds almost neutral. Her mind is reeling. She’d never thought - she hadn’t even truly believed - she takes another few steps towards him, tries not to let any sign of her inner turmoil show outside.

“I suppose I haven’t,“he says slowly, eyeing her with something close to suspicion.

She thinks he must know. She’s long gone from Bellatrix to Bella, and neither of them have ever brought up that first time he called her by her name. But she’s sure he must know.

She never bothers closing her mind to him. And even if he hasn’t seen it in her mind, he must feel it, surely.

She doesn’t dare ask. Doesn’t think she could bear the wrong answer. Yet sometimes she considers just blurting out his name, just so she’ll have to wonder no longer. Just so she isn’t the only one who knows. But she always bites her lip to keep the urge at bay.

Because he looks at her as if he has guessed, and says nothing, so neither does she.

“Bella?“he says softly, almost not audible over the storm raging outside. She’s half asleep already, just slightly turning her face towards him. She can’t see more than his vague outline in the light of the near-extinct fireplace.”My lord?“

There’s a long pause after that.”You don’t always have to call me that. You do realise that, yes?“

“What should I call you, then?“ It never even had occured to her not to. She’s too tired to wonder why he suddenly cares.

“Voldemort,“he says, and suddenly she’s wide awake.”You could call me Voldemort.“

There is a question in his voice. Her mouth is uncomfortably dry all of a sudden. She can’t bring herself to do it. She’s convinced herself she’ll be alright with never knowing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,“she says instead, and he doesn’t push the matter.

When she finally does end up using his name, it’s not something she planned or even decided to do.

They’re in battle when she’s that split second too slow and the curse hits her. She’d just deflected it enough to only be caught in the leg, but her bones shatter, and she goes down.

He catches her before she hits the ground. The moment of distraction costs him dearly. The pain is so blinding that for a second that stretches into eternity, she doesn’t understand. Doesn’t think of what it means that he slowly sinks to his knees, that his fingers are digging into her side so hard it hurts; she absurdly thinks the drops falling on her face are rain. But they’re too warm for that, and far too red.

He’s gotten his shield charm up again, somehow. She manages to apparate them both away, somehow.

“Help!“she screams into what she hopes is not an empty manor.”Help! Please, we need help!“

She can’t go for help herself. One leg barely more than a battered bit of meat, the other trapped under his body. She’s no good at healing charms. Why the fuck is she no good at healing charms?

His blood is soaking through both their robes, making her hands slick and even more useless when she hopelessly presses them to the cuts across his chest, trying to somehow stem the bleed.

“You can’t die,“she says, not remembering the truth to that in her panicked state.”Please, you can’t die, you can’t. Please.“

His heartbeat is growing fainter under her fingers, and when he opens his mouth to reply, blood drips down his chin.”Calm down, Bella. It’ll be fi-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit,“she snaps, one shaking hand moving to cup his face, leaving bloody fingerprints on his pale skin.”Don’t give me that shit when you’re only hurt because you were helping me.“

The house elves have found them now, and their magic is good enough, inferior little creatures though they are. She doesn’t turn her attention away from him.”I don’t want to live in a world without you, Voldemort.“

“You said my name,“he says, somewhere between surprise and disappointment.

“I did,“she confirms.

As he slips into unconsciousness, she closes her eyes and wills back the tears.

She keeps calling him Voldemort anyway. She may not be his soulmate, yet he is hers, and allows her this intimacy. That’s something, that’s close to enough.

“Well, that was horribly anti-climatic,“he says as his followers turn to leave the forest, and Bellatrix laughs, a teasing glint in her eyes.”As teenage nemeses are wont to be. You brought it onto yourself when you messed up killing a toddler.“

From anyone else, this would be reason to end them on the spot. Bella can always get away with such impertinence. And she isn’t entirely wrong, either. Still, he puts on a stern face.“Careful, dear, you’ll get yourself into trouble if you keep on like that.“

“Oh, I do hope I will,“she quips in a sultry voice.

He can’t keep the small smile from creeping onto his face.”Well, aren’t you in a particularly giddy mood.“

“Maybe it’s being back on school grounds.“ She shrugs.”Strange, isn’t it? Kind of brings out the kid you used to be.“

“Not for me,“he says, deciding to humour her.”Although I’d wager I wasn’t all that childish even as a child, so it is hard to tell.’“

She rolls her eyes.“Of course not. Little Tom was too busy building himself his following, was he?“

The joke dies on her lips at the look on his face; he is utterly stunned. They’ve never discussed it but she figured he knew she knew. Hell, everyone knows. Purebloods can recite bloodlines backwards in their sleep; you can’t reveal yourself as Slytherin’s heir without them knowing you are that Gaunt girl’s messy little secret.

The kind of secret everyone just politely ignored, granted, much the way no one said anything about her spending more nights in the Dark Lord’s chambers than in her husband’s house.

“Too far?“she asks. He comes out of his stupor at that, though his smile is still gone.”I’ll let that slide for now. Now go win me that castle.“

He watches her go. His mind is reeling. He’d never truly thought - he hadn’t even believed - he shakes the thought away and follows his army toward the castle.

He’ll tell her after the battle.

[adampage]

Face the Facts | Sami Zayn

Pairing: Sami Zayn x Reader

I’m going to type the anon’s request at the bottom of the story because it gives away too much and I just want you guys to read it.

Word Count: 3,690 I GOT CARRIED AWAY BUT FOR GOOD REASON OK

Author’s Note: I’m taking requests!!!!  THIS REQUEST IS WAS SO CUTE AND SO HEAVENLY AND JUST. JUST READ IT. PLEASE. Please leave comments I love y’all <3 (And for the love of god i need to make a legit tag list so please send me an ask if you’d like to be in it, even if i already tag you bc i just tag whoever comes to mind at this point)

Tagging: @llowkeys / @unabashedwwesmut / @hardcorewwetrash / @roman-reigns-princess / @the-geekgoddes / @xxmaddhatter39xx / @reigns420 / @xstylesxclashx / @crowleysqueenofhell / @wrasslin-x / @wrestlewriting / @sjwrites22 / @wwefluffandstuff / @wrestlingbabe / @helluvawriter / @helluvaclash / @squirrel666 / 

It had started out very innocently. One evening, she sat at a table in the catering room, nibbling on her dinner. There was no one around, which was just the way she liked it. She held the book upright, just shy of her plate, as her other hand fed her forkfuls of spaghetti. It was a particularly harrowing situation, given that [Y/N] disliked getting food stains in her books, but it was a hazard of her addiction. Fact books were her life.

So as she cursed herself for splattering just a teensy bit of tomato sauce on page sixty five, All About Mosquitos, dabbing failingly at the spot, who should catch her in her own personal bubble of embarrassment but Sami Zayn? "Hey, [Y/N], mind if I sit?" She nodded in response, motioning to the chair in front of her with her fork, wincing when another stain hit the page. She gave the spot one last swipe before replacing the bookmark and swatting the book shut, settling it down on the chair to her right. His animated ginger brows expressed a flicker of mild amusement before his body settled in his seat. He was having the chicken salad. Of course he is, she thought. That would've been the better choice, given her own circumstances. Also, it was healthier. "What were you reading just now?" He asked amicably, the crunch of his salad hitting her ears as he took a bite. "Oh, um, that? Just a book." "I can see that," he said, smiling, "but about what?" "Uh..." [Y/N] mumbled. It wasn't something she liked to talk about. The few times she ever mentioned her fascination for the useless, guys and gals everywhere were immediately turned off. She could hear their voices change, the intonation in their mhm's differing slightly, monosyllables becoming more frequent replies. Their eyes would glaze over, no longer entertained by the conversation. And she never recognized it, until one day an old boyfriend broke up with her, his excuse being, "you just never shut up about that dumb, useless shit." So she never spoke of it aloud to anyone ever again. "It's nothing. Just dumb stuff." She could feel her body drawing back into itself, and she wondered just how much more of her spaghetti she would have to eat in front of him before she could make the excuse that she was full and leave. Sami gave her a wide smile. "Well, whatever it is, I bet it's interesting. When you're done with it, you mind if I borrow it? Most of the others don't really bring books along with them on the road, and I've been craving some new reading material." He took another bite of his salad. "You know, there was a study recently that said people who read are two and a half times less likely to get Alzheimer's?" It was like [Y/N] snapped back into reality after aeons of living inside her own mind. "W-what did you say?" "Yeah," Sami continued, "they said that even though reading doesn't outright prevent you from getting the disease, they proved that reading and Alzheimer's had a kind of correlation. Pretty useless, in the end," he chuckled. "But interesting to know all the same. I'm not going to take my chances." Suddenly, [Y/N]'s mouth went dry. The anticipation was killing her. "Do you know any other useless information? Anything else, ya know," she gestured with her hands, "interesting?" Chewing on his leaves, Sami thought long and hard. After about a minute, he remembered something. "Julius Caesar was kidnapped by pirates when he was in his twenties and held for ransom. When he heard the price, he told the pirates that it was an insult to his value and demanded they raise it. Once the ransom was paid and he was free, he tracked them down and executed them." [Y/N] giggled in response, hand reaching to cover her mouth. "Oh my God. That's amazing." "I wouldn't say amazing so much as arrogant, though," he argued gently. "No, I know," she replied, "but it's amazing that you know that." And that was it. The start of a budding friendship. He looked at her for what seemed like a year, biting his lip in contemplation. "Do you want to hang out later? Grab a smoothie or something, after the show?" [Y/N] flashed him a brilliantly beautiful smile. "I'd love to."

Weeks passed, and [Y/N] and Sami became the best of friends. She still kept her book and her useless facts to herself, but she knew that if it ever came up again, she wouldn't be afraid to tell him about it. Something about the way they'd spoken that day in catering gave off this vibe, this instinct to trust him. For the most part, they talked about movies, shows, work, politics. She was glad to find out that they had similar lines of thinking with pretty much anything, and they remained pretty much inseparable. It must've been the politeness, the kindness with which he spoke to her, that sealed that deal. She had a gentle, quiet nature that seemed to mirror his own. They were two sides of the same coin, as it were. One night, after a particularly grueling match with Natalya, in which Natalya actually spat in her face to the reception of boo's from the crowd, [Y/N] was feeling exceptionally down. She knew it was coming. She had told Natalya to give it her all. And it was only a storyline. It really shouldn't have affected her as much as it had. As much as it did. Sami had been right behind the curtain throughout the whole ordeal. He handed [Y/N] a towel to wipe off her face. "Really put the spit in spit-take, huh?" She wiped herself off with the towel, and threw it back to him. "No one laughed." "Good. That means they love you as much as I do." Sami slung the towel around his neck, and an arm around her slumped shoulders. "Guess you can sleep easy tonight knowing the entire WWE universe is probably writing hate tweets to Nattie as we speak." She looked up at him as they walked towards the locker rooms, placed a hand on his scruff and scratched it adoringly, before giving him a light slap on the cheek. "That's not nice, Sami. I wish they'd send me love tweets instead of sending her hate tweets." "Now that is a very noble and sweet thing to say. But, the heel makes the face, so..." "Did you just quote Glow at me?" "Who? What? Me? That wasn't Glow, that was..." He snapped his fingers, the bullshit answer coming to him. "...Vince McMahon." "Sami Zayn, you dumb, lovable idiot." "I'll take that as a compliment."

She couldn't sleep. That nightmare couldn't have taken more than a couple minutes for her brain to concoct and perform, and yet it had kept her awake for hours. It was Nattie's face, and yet it wasn't her face at all. It was warped, like the mirrors in a funhouse. Actually, now that she thought about it, the nightmare might have been about Nattie chasing her through a never ending hallway of funhouse mirrors, but it was hard to tell at this point. It had freaked her out. She had woken up in a cold sweat, and now she couldn't fall back asleep. She checked the time. 1:27 am. Fuck me, she thought, biting her thumbnail. Everything in the hotel was probably locked up or closed by now. The gym, the pool, the bar where she might've been able to drink herself to sleep. She didn't want to do it, but...at this point, she had no choice. Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, swallowing down every thought she had to deny herself this small ease of her soul, she opened up her chat with Sami. It took her a solid, oh, fifteen minutes to decide on her factual opener. Did you know mosquitos are most attracted to the color blue? It was about another minute or two before she saw the tell-tale chat bubble appear on the screen, signaling that Sami was typing a response. I didn't, actually. Remind me never to wear blue when we visit the south in the summer.

She let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to ask, then. Why she was still up. Her respect for him grew with every passing moment. I will. Also, don't wear black in the summer. Or anything dark, for that matter. Dark colors absorb all colors of light rays, as well as heat. You sure know a lot about colors, don't you? She bit her lip, holding back a smile. Eh, well, you know. I dabble. Dabbling is good, haha. I enjoy dabbling, now and then. I am quite the dabbler. Really? Oh, yeah. I've dabbled in marine biology. For example, did you know that a whale's penis is, ahem, scientifically called a dork? The only dork here is you. No way that's its scientific name. Also, leave it to the man to start talking about penis in a little light hearted, dabbling conversation. Ouch, that hurts. You got me, I'm not sure if it's scientific. Did you know that a male giraffe's penis is approximately four feet in length? That's about the size of an emperor penguin, or about the average height of a seven year old child. Oh my god. Now who's talking about penises? (Penisi?) I hope Finn and his stuffed animal giraffes stay far away from me for the next few weeks. I won't be able to stop thinking about what you've just told me. I feel so emasculated. [Y/N] burst out laughing. She was glad she didn't have a roommate this week, or else they totally would've cussed her out by now. All that tossing and turning, and now she was giggling uncontrollably at her phone screen. Emasculated? Come on. I'm serious. I will never, in my life, have a penis that large. That's upsetting. It truly is. The common shrew's penis is only a fifth of an inch long, on average, but relative to its body size, they're well endowed. So don't feel too bad. I am absolutely in awe at how much more you know about penises than me. My hope is that you don't know any of this from experience. Christ, Sami, NO. Omg, ew. I have definitely NOT dabbled in bestiality, thank you very much. Hahahaha, okay. Just making sure. ...So is that all you got? 😉 [Y/N] stared at the bright screen. She'd already woken him up, and it was nearing two thirty in the morning already. They'd probably be awake in the next three hours, since the gym opened up at 5:30. At this point, sleep wasn't much of an issue. She looked up at the ceiling, then back at the clock. 2:25. ....Boy, I'm just getting started.

So you're telling me that a superstitious pope is to blame for the Black Death? Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you. So if this pope had just, left these cats alone, and not told people that they were the devil's brood, that the Black Death probably wouldn't have happened, because cats kill rats. The rats, of course, being the cause of the plague. Absolutely. And that he is the reason people, to this day, are so put off by cats. Which is stupid. Cats are amazing. I'm totally in agreement. Gucci is a fine example. Gucci is probably the best example, imho. She's the paragon of all feline kind, if you ask her. Oh, speaking of cats. Did you know that cats were highly revered in Egypt I had heard about that, yeah. Yeah, pharaohs would be buried with their pets, mainly cats and dogs, along with their families and concubines. The cats were supposed to help guide their spirits to the afterlife. Is that why people say that cats can see ghosts? Sometimes Gucci yowls at the wall. OMG, are you serious? 😂 Yes. I'm totally serious. You might need to have her checked out, tbqh. Absolutely not. My Gucci is perfect. Okay, then.... So I've got a useless fact for you. In the nineteenth century, there was a construction foreman named Phineas Gage who, after some miscommunication or malfunction with explosives, got a metal rod shot through his brain, and lived. He fucking LIVED? Yeah, he lived. For another twelve years. That's just...that's insane. Twelve years? Christ. Yeah, crazy isn't it? Extraordinary. Now, I'm going back to animals because animals are fun. By all means. Did you know that bloodhounds are the only animals whose evidence is admissible in court? Really? Must be why Sherlock Holmes had one. Yeah. Apparently their noses have forty times the amount of receptors that human noses do, so it's easy for them to connect blood at the scene of a murder with the suspect who may have committed the act. Commit murder, stay away from dogs. Duly noted. Sami. Sami, no. I'm kidding, lol. Do I look like the type of guy who could kill someone? [Y/N] dropped her phone on her lap, incredulous. She sat there, head leaning against the headboard for a good long while. Could she imagine him killing someone? The answer was only too obvious. Sami, you wrestle for a living. The only reason you haven't killed someone yet is because you and the other person know what they're doing, and it's professional. Imagine yourself fighting someone who has no training whatsoever; you get mad one night and fists start flying. To me, you don’t look like you could hurt anyone. But you could hurt someone if you wanted to.

Why would I be fighting them, though? I feel like if I killed someone, it would have to be a very good reason. Not that I'm saying murder is justifiable. But. You know. The conversation had taken quite a turn. It was morbid at best, revealing at worst. She typed a response. Let's say they hurt me. Badly. On purpose. Would you kill someone for that? His response was static. It was like she'd accidentally pressed "scan" on the radio and nothing came up but noise. She was glad of it, though. It meant he was taking his time to think about it. If he said yes too quickly, it meant he really, honestly, couldn't give a fuck about human life, which she knew was untrue. If he said no too quickly, it meant he really could give a fuck about her. It was a selfish, loaded question. But she had typed it out anyway. I'd probably beat them to near death, if I could get away with it. Make sure they never hurt you again, or at least that they got the picture. An exhale of breath. Phew. Best answer, in her mind. Why is that so....sweet? Lol. I do consider myself sweet, so I'm glad to hear you say that. She dropped her phone on her chest with a smile. It was getting brighter, all of a sudden. Only then did she realize that soft light was glowing through the window shades. She checked the clock on the nightstand. 5:59. Sami, it's six o'clock in the morning. The gym's been open for a half hour! I know, [Y/N]. She stared at his answer. Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't you say so? I was having too much fun texting you. There they were. The butterflies that came to assault her tummy once every thousand exchanges. Sure, they toed the line of flirtation more times than she could count in a day. But sometimes, she could tell there was something different about the way he said certain things. That's all fine and great but we gotta go! Let's go, Sami, get ready. Gym time! 🤗 All right, [Y/N]. Give me ten minutes, I'll be knocking at your door.  

Teal sports bra, black yoga shorts, teal Adidas on her feet. Hair in a high ponytail. She looked at herself in the mirror. Maybe some eyeliner? Nah, just mascara. She rubbed her hands together, shifted weight between her left leg and her right. "Ooh," she shivered. The AC was way too low. Might have been half the reason she couldn't sleep. She grabbed a towel out of her gym bag, and a water bottle out of the mini fridge. A knock. Her mouth widened into a smile as she turned to open the door. She opened it to find a just showered Sami Zayn, ginger curls at the top of his head dripping lightly with moisture. He looked up to meet her eyes, and her heart nearly stopped at the sight. Those lovely dark eyes could melt the most cold hearted bitch. He stood there for a moment, didn't say a word. She wondered what he was thinking. Then, "Good morning, [Y/N]." "Good morning, Sami. How'd you sleep?" She shut the door behind her, and they made their way towards the elevator. "Not well. Some girl kept me awake last night. Kept spewing a bunch of weird facts at me." "Really?" She grinned. "Why didn't you tell her to stop?" A button pressed. The ding of an elevator, doors swinging open. He placed an arm to hold the doors, motioning as if to say, "ladies first." She pressed the button for the second floor, above the lobby, where the gym was. "Well, I don't know. She was really opening my mind about a lot of things. I learned a lot. She's really intelligent." "Nah. I wouldn't say spewing useless information is a result of intelligence. Anyone can remember a couple bullshit facts." He poked her in the tummy. "Well, I think it's endearing." He shifted on his feet, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. "Did you know that most people who die in elevators are elevator technicians? Statistically, it's the safest form of travel." Sami chuckled silently to himself. "Unless you have an elevator technician degree I don't know about, I guess we're fine, then, huh?" The elevator jolted suddenly, scaring them both. She grabbed his hand instinctually, dropping it once the elevator continued its descent to the second floor. He looked at her, and they both laughed awkwardly. "Why were you awake all night?" Sami asked her, finally. "Um." It was getting cold, and she could feel herself beginning to shiver. "You can tell me. You know you can." It was hard to dismiss those puppy dog eyes of his. They bore into her soul, begging her to spill her secrets. "I had a, a nightmare." It sounded like a question. She placed her water bottle on the floor of the elevator, the condensation of the beverage freezing her fingers. "I couldn't go back to sleep, but. I didn't want to say anything." "You could've told me." "I know, it's just," she crossed her arms against her, trying to draw heat from her own body that wasn't there. "I didn't want to worry you." "Hey, [Y/N]." His voice was a mere whisper, hardly audible if they hadn't been standing in an elevator, two feet apart. Sami closed the distance between them. "Yeah?" She whispered back. He cupped her chin, lightly pressing at her jaw. Their eyes met, and the butterflies and her stomach began their fluttering song. His eyes ran over her, studying every line of her face. When they paused a bit too long at her lips, the doors swung open, the sharp "ding" of the elevator indicating they had finally made it to the second floor. [Y/N] looked away from him, towards the open doors, but as she made to move, Sami shifted his body, stopping her for just a moment before he pushed a button. The doors dinged closed, and she looked back at him, confused. "There's something I need to tell you, and I don't think I should tell you in the middle of the gym, where our friends can see us. In fact, we've been lucky so far that no one's stopped this elevator." He scanned her again, the look on his face full of love and adoration. "What is it, Sami? What's wrong?" "What's wrong?" He chuckled. "There's nothing wrong. Everything's absolutely perfect." He paused. Then he continued. "Fact. I'm in love with my best friend and I think she's in love with me, too." What? "You heard me. Fact. I'm in love with my best friend. And I think," he paused again, looking straight through to the dark recesses of her soul, "she's in love with me, too." This was un-freaking-believable. Her mind was spinning. It was like the whole world had been turned upside down. But why? Why was this so difficult to understand? Just moments ago her heart was fluttering. Moments ago, she was wishing this was true and now it was and it was the one fact in the world she couldn't believe. "Believe it, baby. That's one fact that'll never change. I'm in love with you." And then his mouth was on hers like it was meant to be there all along. His body leaned in, begging to be touched. Her fingers ran under his shirt, grazing the ginger hairs of his tummy and his chest, feeling the goosebumps rising from his skin. His tongue flicked over her lips, and she opened them, every one of her vulnerabilities drifting away as he kissed her more passionately with every fleeting second, his tongue searching for hers in longing, and she met him briefly, before pushing him back just an inch to catch her breath. Her eyes looked away, shifting everywhere but to his own. Their breaths slowed and deepened, each passing moment bathing her in serenity. At last, her eyes locked onto his. "Fact. I'm in love with you, too. Now and always." He granted her a smile that would not go away, a smile that felt like starlight and sunshine, all at once. And the butterflies never stopped fluttering.

"If you don't have too many requests, would you be able to do a Sami Zayn one where the reader stays up all night texting texting Sami facts he'll never need to know or use in life. When he asks her why she stayed up all night, she says it's because she had a nightmare but she was too afraid to tell him about it. If you want to do this, thanks!" - anon