#the way he talks about wrestling and his schedule and the people he works with

[likesummerrainn]

FN Immersed | Alex Shelley

[gallusrostromegalus]

I must ask how my Most Favorite Boys, Jushiro Ukitake and Shinji Hirako, are doing in AEIWAM?

When Shinji returns to his post as Captain of the 5th after his exile, he is DETERMINED to not repeat his past mistakes and actually get to know the shinigami serving under him. He needs... Some kind of event, something people will voluntarily attend, where they'll tell him about themselves, and with a bit of structure because he is an awkward sod, and social interactions need RULES, DAMMIT-

"Now hang on-" says Shinji after staring at the blank office wall in silence for the last thirty minutes. "-that's not a bad idea!"

"...Is he okay?" Lieutenant Momo asks quietly.

"Oh yeah, he's always a little freak. Talks to himself and gets a lot out of the conversation." Also Lieutenant Hiyori nods. "You don't need to worry until he breaks out the craft supplies."

"He just pulled out a bunch of markers and construction paper." Momo pointed to their captain as he scribbled furiously on the paperwork he was ignoring.

"Aw. Fuck." Groaned Hiyori. "Well this is gonna be cringe as hell."

***

A few nights later, most of the fifth division assembled in the auditorium, slightly confused, but they had been promised there would be no additional work from this meeting, and there was an open bar, so they were in figurative and literal high spirits.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Fifth Division, welcome to TONIGHT'S GAME!" A cheerful and showman-like voice called out over the speakers, and the stage curtain rose to reveal a brightly colored game show stage where there had not been one before.

"Tonight's lovely contestants are- all the way from payroll, it's Fifth Division Tenth Seat Tenya Danshin!" The voice called out as the familiar face of their payroll and scheduling manager trotted out onstage and took his place behind the first of three podiums. There was some scattered and genuine, if confused applause from the audience.

"He's Big, he's Bad, he's just a little Bizarre, he's Josuke Araki!" The voice continued as a notably tall and muscular member took his place behind the middle podium with a wave and broad grin. There was more clapping and a few cheers this time.

"Currently being dragged onstage by my lovely assistant, it's my second favorite Lieutenant, Hiyori Sarugaki!" The voice continued as Hiyori was wrestled onstage and behind the third podium by Momo. The audience whooped and snickered at the spectacle.

"FUCK YOU, YOU FREAK!" Hiyori roared, flipping off the audience and the figure behind the final podium on the other side of the stage.

"I'm your host, ME! I've been here the whole time!" Grinned Shinji, dressed in a rather snappy three piece suit and holding a microphone. "WELCOME, all my lovely division members and Hiyori, to Tonight's Game! Now, you all know how to play, right?"

"Um. No. Sorry sir." Muttered Tenya as Josuke shook his head.

"You didn't tell us shit!" Hiyori growled.

"That's RIGHT!" Shinji's Cheshire Cat smile shined under the spotlights.

"You see, I wanted to get to know everyone in the 5th a little better, and there is nothing quite like a game show to get people to reveal some truly startling sides of themselves, but playing the same game over and over would be boring! So, every night we play Tonight's Game, the game is a different game than last time, and the contestants will all start with blank slates!" He explained, entirely too pleased with himself. "So- the only way to win is by learning, the only way to learn is by playing, and the only way to begin is by beginning, so without further ado- Momo, will you please bring out THE LIE DETECTOR."

The small curtains at the back of the stage opened, and Momo rolled out a cart with a strange device covered in dials and switches with a long antenna and a large lightbulb on top.

"Thank you Momo! Now, the clever bastards in the 12th whipped this up for me so I have absolutely no idea how it actually works, but I am assured this is the latest cutting-edge in Veracity Technology. Let's turn it on and try it out! Tenya-!"

"Yes, sir!" Tenya snapped to attention. "No need to be formal, I'm only your host, not your captain right now." Shinji waved. "Tell me Tenya- Do you have any children?"

"I- Um, my wife and I have three children, two little boys and our infant daughter?" He stammered, confused.

DING! The Device charmed, light bulb lighting up bright green.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji grinned. "You get a point!"

There was another chime as the screen on the front of Tenya's Podium lit up and displayed a "1".

"Oh, I see!" Laughed Tenya.

"Josuke!" called Shinji.

"Capt- Host?" Josuke stopped mid-salute.

"Very good! Tell me Josuke, do you live in the barracks?" Shinji asked with genuine interest.

"Uh, no. I live with my Mom." Josuke shook his head.

DING! Said the device.

"That is Correct!" Shinji nodded approvingly. "You get a point as well!"

"Oh, so, every time we tell the truth, we get a point?" Asked Josuke.

"Very quick on the uptake my friend!" Shinji winked. "Of course, as the game goes on, the questions are going to get much harder to answer Truthfully..."

Oooooooh! Gasped the audience, invested now.

"What happens if we lie?" Wondered Tenya.

"Even if we did- how would he fucking know?" Hiyori rolled her eyes.

"You can try it and find out!" Shinji grinned with more than a hint of Menace. "Hiyori! It's your turn!"

"Ugh. What?" She groaned.

"Tell me, When is my birthday?" Asked Shinji.

"I don't know and I don't care." She smirked, sticking her tongue out at him.

BZZRK! The Device buzzed angrily, and the light flashed red. OHH! laughed the audience.

"What the FUCK?" Yelped Hiyori.

"Ooh!" Shinji winced, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I'm afraid that is INCORRECT! According to the screen back here, you spent the better part of THREE MONTHS tracking down a specific part to repair my sound system and traveled halfway across the planet to deliver it personally to me on my birthday. So not only do you know, you DO care, and for that I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock you two points."

Hiyori's screen lit up and displayed a "-2"

"WHAT THE HELL?" Hiyori wailed. "You didn't even see me when I gave you that Banana Plug or whatever-!"

"I did not!" Shinji grinned. "-but The Device knows, and is infallible!" "That's terrifying!" Tenya laughed nervously. "Alright contestants, the questions are going to get harder now, so consider your answers to them carefully." Shinji warned, a finger up to his lips. "Contestants- does any of your underwear have holes in it?"

"...Can we refuse to answer on the grounds it might get us in trouble?" asked Josuke.

"Yes! But you won't get any points for that round, and you may not win our Lovely Prize this week. Speaking of- Momo! Will you please show our contestants what they're playing for this week?"

Momo emerged from backstage with a large, blank sign, which she turned over and held over her head for all to see.

AN EXTRA WEEK OF PAID VACATION

OHHH! exclaimed the audience, with a few audible mutters of Damn, a whole week? and How do you get on this show?.

"ALL MY UNDERWEAR HAS GOT HOLES IN IT!" Shouted Josuke, now with heavily-motivated enthusiasm. Laughter exploded out of the audience, thoroughly entertained.

DING! chimed the device, and the score on Josuke's podium went up.

"Josuke taking an early and shameless lead!" Beamed Shinji, delighted that his plan was working. "Tenya?"

"I-ah, I don't think so?" Tenya blushed. "I bathe the kids and get them ready for bed while my wife does the laundry." He tried to explain.

BZZRK! The Device contested, red light flashing and the audience howled with laughter.

"Uh-oh, that's Not Correct!" Grinned Shinji. "According to the device, a significant amount of your clothes have holes in them, and you don't notice because you get dressed in the dark. You didn't outright lie though, so you will only not get a point instead of a deduction."

"WHAT?" Yelped Hiyori, outraged.

"Yeah, that's fair." Tenya winced. "Seriously though- where does this thing get it's information from?"

"...Hiyori?" Shinji leered playfully at his lieutenant.

"Yeah, it's all got holes. They come that way- Two for my legs and one for my torso." Hiyori snarled.

DING! agreed The Device.

"That is *technically* correct, which is the BEST kind of correct! You get a point!" Shinji cheered, and so did the audience.

"FINALLY!" She shouted, but her eyes narrowed with competitive enthusiasm.

---

The game continued for an hour, with a mix of group and solo questions, but equal chances to score points awarded to all contestants. Josuke was shameless but ill-informed, causing him to fail several rounds, Tenya was honest even as his face flushed red and he crumpled behind his Podium. Hiyori did her best to be only as honest as she had to be, and as the game continued, they came to a three-way tie.

"Before we begin the final round-" Shinji said, intoning a gentle sincerity. "Contestants, you've been so honest with me. Like. Alarmingly Honest with me. So I need to be honest with you- I do know how The Lie Detector works."

There was a scandalized gasp from all three contestants and the audience.

"Okay- I *sort of* know how The Device works." Shinji admitted. "I don't know what 'Wiffy' is-"

"YOU MEAN THE FUCKING WI-FI?" Howled Hiyori.

"Oh, like you know how it works!" Shinji glared.

"It's using a radio frequency to transmit Data instead of an electrical pulses like internet usually does." She scoffed. "-AND I KNOW HOW TO PRONOUNCE IT!"

Shinji glared. "...I should deduct a point from you for insubordination."

"You can't do that, you're the Host, not the Captain!" Said Josuke cheerfully.

"Yeah, unless Host is a Military rank, it's arguing, not insubordination."

DING! Agreed The Device.

"DON'T GANG UP ON ME!" Shinji wailed. "Fine, fine. Anyway, I might not know how Why-Figh works, but I *DO* know how the device knows if you're lying or not. Would my Lovely Assistants please come to the stage?"

Momo emerged from backstage, wearing a labcoat and holding another device with an antenna that matched the Lie Detector, followed by a middle aged woman holding a Baby, an older woman, and Mashiro Kuna.

"Akkiko?" Tenya yelped, and his wife laughed manically.

"MOM??" Wailed Josuke.

"MASHIRO??" Hiyori bellowed, jumping up onto her Podium. "YOU SOLD ME OUT?!"

"FOR A BAG OF CORN CHIPS!" Mashiro cackled.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN PAY HER?!" Hiyori howled at Shinji.

"She was gonna do it for free! I talked her UP to a bag of corn chips!" Shinji protested. "But YES! You've all been deceived! Hoodwinked!Bamboozled, even! Which brings us to our Final Question!"

The crowd roared with excitement.

"I started this game because I wanted to get to know everyone better- but I have to ask, how well do YOU know each other, and so I must ask you all if you know these people as well as they know you?"

There was a loud OOOH! of intrigue from the audience.

"Just to make it extra-exciting, all of these questions will be worth up to three points!" Shinji grinned, then slowly turned to the first Podium. "Tenya."

"Oh god." Tenya laughed nervously.

"Your lovely wife. You've been married for ten year now, so you theoretically know what she looks like, right?" Shinji teased. "So, for a potential three points and week of paid vacation- Do you know what color Akkiko's eyes are?"

Akkiko giggled, turning around as Tenya leaned as far forward on his Podium and squinted at her. With a deep sigh, he slumped over the podium in defeat.

"...I do not." He groaned and Akkiko cackled.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji cheered.

"I'm not good with colors." Tenya tried to explain. "-this morning I actually asked her what color MY eyes are."

"YES! That's what I was waiting to hear!" Shinji shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "All three points!"

The audience cheered loudly.

Shinji turned to the next contestant. "Josuke."

"Oh no." Josuke giggled.

"What is your mother's favorite food?" Shinji asked.

Josuke stared blankly.

"SURELY you are not living in your mother's house and NOT COOKING FOR HER, are you?" Shinji asked with no small amount of menace.

"You're never going to get married if you can't cook!" Tenya nodded in agreement.

"I COOK!" Josuke protested. "...sometimes." he added, cringing.

"-So. What do you make for your beloved mother, who works so hard taking care of her adult son?" Shinji teased.

"LOTSA STUFF THAT'S WHY I DON'T KNOW!" Josuke wailed. "I COOK KATSUDON, I COOK RAMEN, I COOK CURRY, I COOK OMURICE- I EVEN LEARNED HOW TO COOK WESTERN FOODS LIKE LASAGNA AND CHILLI CHEESE DOG-! DING! Went the device, Josuke's mother holding the radio.

"Was your favorite in there Mrs. Akari?"

"Yes! I like Chili Cheese Dog." She smiled. "I always eat seconds!"

"YOU ALWAYS EAT SECONDS OF EVERYTHING I COOK I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE YOU LIKE THE MOST!" Josuke wailed.

"That is also true! He is a very good cook! And single!" She nodded up at Shinji.

"-And he's single!" Shinji grinned at the audience, some of whom whistled back. "Three points, for your culinary skills! Which means we have a Tie!"

The audience tittered with speculation and excitement.

"...Hiyori." Shinji grinned.

"You're a dead man as soon as you sign off on my vacation time." She glared.

"I mean, I can end the game right now." Shinji wagged his finger at her. "-But I can't resist the opportunity to humliate you. Now, You and Mashiro have been living under the same roof for longer than Josuke and Tenya have been alive, so to be fair to them, I'll ask you about someone you've met more recently but should still know pretty well-"

Hiyori squinted at him.

"-What is Momo's Favorite Animal?"

"What?" Hiyori laughed. "-Everyone knows it's Penguins!"

"Really?" asked Josuke. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I didn't know that either and I've served under her for decades now!" Said Tenya.

"What? How do you guys NOT know that?" Demanded Hiyori. "Her phone background is a Rockhopper Penguin, she's got a Fairy penguin squeeze toy in her desk for really long phone calls and she's always talking about wanting to go to the Tokyo aquarium in the living world to see them in person! She's even got a HUGE collection of penguin plushies in her r-" DINGDINGDINGDINGSING!! rang the Machine as Momo furiously pressed the button, face red as a beet.

"Wow!" Shinji smiled. "I'm surprised! You seem to know Miss Hinamori really well!"

"Uh, duh? We're colleagues." Hiyori rolled her eyes.

Momo sighed with relief.

"Interesting! Follow-up question- What's Mashiro's surname?" Shinji asked.

Hiyori blinked. "...uhhhhhhhh..."

"You heard Kensei yell it at least six times a day for the last century you jackass!" Laughed Mashiro.

"UHHHHH..." Hiyori paled, and the audience roared with laughter.

"Hmm... I seem to remember you pretending you didn't care about my birthday, and yet, you do- For you to remember her favorite animal and in such detail, Momo must be VERY IMPORTANT to you!"

The audience giggled Momo turned scarlet again and slowly crumpled into a ball. Mashiro vibrated with excitement beside her.

"Yeah?" Hiyori glared at Shinji. "She's the smartest person in the whole damn division and does half your job for you? If I win, I'm giving the week off to her just to watch you flail around without her! No wait- I'll set up the webcam and we can split the week off, go to the aquarium AND watch Shinji squirm like a worm an a-! Uh? Momo? You okay there?" She asked, finally noticing Momo laying on the floor, borderline catatonic with embarrassment.

"This is FASCINATNG!" Shinji grinned. "You are apparently so immune to embarrassment that you have somehow made it bounce off you and target Momo!"

"What's to be embarrassed about? I like her okay?" Hiyori blinked. "She's great! I wanna work with her forever!"

Shinji leaned forward on his elbows, chin in his hands and stared at Hiyori, positively vibrating with excitement.

"What?" She glared.

"You are. SO CLOSE. To comprehending something." He said, wide-eyed and delighted. "It's fascinating to see someone on the precipice like this."

Hiyori stared blankly at him. clueless.

"So you like Momo. We've established that." Shinji said, attempting to throw her a bone. "H- how do you think Momo feels about you?" Hiyori slowly lowered her gaze to Momo. The entire audience watched in hushed fascination as Hiyori frowned at the situation, thinking hard-

"...Momo?" Hiyori's voice was suddenly nervous. "Do you- have I just been annoying you? Becuase I can stop-"

Momo Hinamori was abruptly on her feet, crouched atop the Podium, fists balled in the front of Hiyori's shushako, pulling the blonde's face up so it was mere inches from hers. "HIYORI SARUGAKI YOU ARE THE MOST INFURIATING WOMAN IN THE UNIVERSE!"

"Fuck!" Hiyori yelped. "I'm really sorry, I'll- I'll leave you alo-"

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO DO, MISSY!" Momo continued, grabbing Hiyori's face. "YOU'RE WINNING THIS GAME, YOU'RE SPLITTING THE WEEK OFF WITH ME, YOU ARE GETTING A HOTEL IN THE LIVING WORLD AND THEN *I* AM GOING TO-'

In the videotape of the game that mysteriously appeared in the ninth division later that week, the next forty-seven seconds of sound had been obscured by a single, loud, continuous "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" sound, but Mashiro was visibly looking up some of the terms being shouted on her phone, Josuke's mother sprinted up to cover her son's ears to no avail, Akkiko was pointing between herself and Tenya with excitement, and Shinji's jaw fell so far open it looked like it had become unhinged from his skull.

"-AND IF EITHER OF US CAN WALK IN THE MORNING, THEN WE'RE GONNA GO SEE SOME PENGUINS!" Momo finished, staring Hiyori down with a terrifying blend of romantic fury and bloodthirsty lust.

Hiyori stared up, wide-eyed and expressionless, face clearly offline as she underwent several psychological and spiritual awakenings before her she slowly broke into a slow, stupefied grin "Oh you like-like me!"

"...Yes." Momo sighed, deeply pained and affectionate at once as the audience howled. "You're okay with... all that?"

Hiyori saluted Momo with an enthusiastic "-Yes, SIR!"

"NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKIN' ABOUT!" Shinji whooped with joy, jumping up and down, the audience on their feet with applause. "POINTS AND VACATIONS ALL AROUND, AND FOR BEING THE *MOST* HONEST, THE WINNER OF TONIGHT'S GAME IS MOMO HINAMORI!"

The audience cheered wildly as Momo scooped Hiyori up like a princess and carried her backstage.

"THAT'S IT FOR TONIGHT'S GAME!" called Shinji over the din. "GOODNIGHT EVERYONE, AND GOOD FUCKING LUCK!"

---

As for Jushiro Ukitake, he appears on a special guest episode of Tonight's Game with fellow Captains Soi Fon, Byakuya Kuchiki and Retsu Unohana to play "Never Have I Ever" and *that* episode is widely considered to be one of the most scandalous and unhinged of all the games on Tonight's Game.

[loganwritesprobably]

Drowning

Tags/Warnings: Ace/GN!Reader, modern AU, surfing instructor Ace, civilian!Reader, Ace saves a kid from drowning

It had taken a lot to get all your friends together, days off and holiday days taken to align your schedules, but it was all worth it to be able to sit together on the beach in the hot sun. The beach was littered with families and groups of young people enjoying the weather and playing games. It was a nice, summery atmosphere.

People watching was a hobby you enjoyed, making guesses about the people around you that you'd never have proven true or false. Your book sat beside you, bookmarked with a seashell since you'd managed to forget your usual bookmark, and a drink in your hand. You sipped slowly as you just watched the horizon, seeing the children and adults alike playing in the waves.

You'd noticed a short while ago that there was a surfer on the beach, a relatively young man - you'd assume close to yourself in age - and he was quite handsome. Your friends had noticed you looking and made a few light hearted jokes, but all had moved on now. Or you'd thought. "Still looking?" One of them joked, gently elbowing you as they shuffled closer, tugging their towel closer to yours to sit in more comfort. "Can you blame me? Running around looking like that." You replied with a laugh, though you looked away having been caught. If something was going to happen then it would.

After spending a few hours just relaxing, a few of your friends convinced you to come take a dip in the water with them, and you quickly found yourself just floating along the water's surface while your friends play wrestled, though some had already retreated back to the safety of your towels under the umbrella.

The peace was disturbed as a woman shrieked from the beach. You looked up, startled by the sound, and spotted a young boy thrashing and struggling a ways away from you. Most people stood watching, stunned into stillness rather than rushing to his aid. Except one man. The surfer you'd been observing earlier dove from his board without hesitation, disappearing under the surface of the water with no sign for a long moment. Then, both he and the boy were gasping for air, surfacing properly, the boy on the surfer's shoulders.

Your friend appeared beside you and nudged you again, while another closed your open jaw with two fingers on your chin.

The surfer carried the boy back to the shore where his mother stood, and you watched as she profusely thanked the man. You looked around and noticed his board still drifting, so ignoring the laughter and taunts of your friends, you swam for it.

You dragged his board to the beach, waiting for the woman to disappear with her son, and pulled it to him. "Pretty heroic thing you did there." You said, smiling at him as he startled, then turned toward you. "Oh, anyone would've." He replied with a shrug, taking his board from you with ease. "I mean, you were the only one that even moved. It was pretty awesome." You were a little awkward, but you were trying and surely that was what mattered. "I guess it was." He replied with a laugh and a small smirk that made you want to kiss him. What a hell of an impulsive thought. "You surf?" You asked, gesturing to the board. Alone it was kind of a stupid question, but you were hoping he'd use it as a chance to talk about it more extensively. "Sure do, I'm an instructor too. The kid is one I've worked with before. He just got caught in some seaweed, he's usually a pretty strong swimmer. Guess that's why I acted so fast." He explained, and you nodded along. "So you're a surfer, a hero, and good with kids? Hot." It didn't hurt to be a little bold, right? "Yeah?" He asked, a cheeky smile taking over his face. You struggled not to fold at the sight of it, instead forcing yourself to stay strong. "Yeah. Could I interest you in sharing a cold drink, and maybe an ice cream at that café on the boardwalk?" "I think you could."

[mystwrites]

Hiiii! For the event, 9, 14, or 16 for ler! Rengoku and lee!giyuu. He needs to smile. Ty!!!!

A/N: Hello, I’m sorry this took a while, but I’ve gotten to this!! I decided to go with 9! This will be the last sentence starters fic due to some…irl things happening but I have other things from different fandoms scheduled!

CW: Tickling (don’t like, don’t read)

Giyuu sat alone once more, away from the others enjoying the picnic. As much as he wanted to join the others his age laughing while drinking sake and the younger ones splashing water at one another in the small creek, he didn’t want to be a burden to the group. Perhaps they would have more fun without him. Sitting with Kanzaburo in his lap was probably better anyways. At least he could feel at ease knowing the crow genuinely liked him.

“Tomioka!”

Giyuu all but squeaked, jumping a little as Rengoku’s loud voice startled him from his racing thoughts. Kanzaburo startled and flew away with a squawk.

“Oh…gosh…” he sighed, relieved. “Don’t just shout like that, Rengoku…”

“Sorry, I really do apologize but you’re missing out on all the fun!” Rengoku exclaimed, gesturing to the group. “Why don’t you come and join us?”

“Mmm…nah. Not in the mood…actually according to Shinazugawa, Iguro and Uzui, I’ll ruin it with my “unflashy” and “depressing” aura.” Giyuu replied, looking away. “Also, you scared my crow away. Thanks for that.”

Rengoku knew Giyuu was more introverted than the rest and in all honesty, felt rather bad that he just assumed the group hated him. While Sanemi and Obanai were vocal about their dislike for Giyuu, it was all misunderstandings. Rengoku knew Giyuu wasn’t cocky and sensed that he kept a distance to make sure he didn’t get attached but he hated the thought of Giyuu believing he was hated.

While Rengoku could never get a good read on what was going on through his comrade’s head, he knew Giyuu was sad for some reason. Surely if being hated on daily was getting to him, they should talk about it as a group with Gyomei mediating the exchange.

“I don’t think they think that.” Rengoku started, opening his mouth to continue before Giyuu cut him off.

“Oh yeah? Ask them yourself.” he snorted. “I’m sure they’ll tell you all the reasons why I shouldn’t have even came to this picnic to begin with. In fact, I think I’ll go home.”

Now frowning, Rengoku realized that Giyuu distanced himself specifically because of what the others thought of him. Instead of trying to argue back, Rengoku sat next to his peer before he could leave and stared at the leaves rustling above them.

Wanting to make Giyuu smile, Rengoku searched his brain for ways to make people laugh. He knew jokes wouldn’t work on Giyuu and neither would slapstick humor. Giyuu was different from Tanjiro and his friends and vastly different from Senjuro, but there was one universal trick that could work if executed correctly. He just had to hope it would work.

“Tomioka…” Rengoku said, smiling at Giyuu just as he rose from his place on the grass.

“I don’t like that look on your face, Rengoku…you’re up to something…”

“I know a way to make you smile!~”

Taking one look at Rengoku’s smiling face sent Giyuu running as fast as he could. However, much to his shock, he wasn’t fast enough. Before he realized it, Rengoku held him tightly and gave his already messy hair a noogie.

“Aaggh!! Rengoku!!” Giyuu growled, trying to fight the playful man off.

“Don’t fight it, Tomioka! I’ll make you smile!!” Rengoku grunted, managing to wrestle Giyuu down to the grass.

“I will fight it!!!” Giyuu huffed, trying to put Rengoku in a chokehold. “Get off!!!”

“No! Let me make you smile!!”

“I don’t want to!!!”

“Don’t fight it, Tomioka!!! Just submit!! Smiling is a lot of fun!!”

The sudden wrestling match caught the attention of the other Hashira, the group all watching to see what would happen to Giyuu should Rengoku cause him to tap out. Gyomei, Mitsuri, Muichiro and Shinobu looked on with interest while Tengen, Obanai and Sanemi watched the scene and continued with their argument about who knows what.

“Nooo!! C’mon man!!” Giyuu growled, shoving at Rengoku’s face. “Get off of me-EEEEEEHEEEYYYY!!!”

As soon as Giyuu let out a shriek upon feeling Rengoku press into his sides, the Flame Hashira wrestled the Water Hashira down with ease, tickling his flanks. Instant laughter burst from the normally Giyuu and filled the air. Seeing Giyuu smile made Rengoku smile and looking up at the others. Everyone turned to look at Giyuu who was flat on his back, legs and arms flailing as Rengoku tickled him silly.

“Told you I could make you smile, Tomioka!~” Rengoku purred, causing Giyuu to push at him with more force.

“Yohohou said s-smihihile not l-lahahaugh!” Giyuu whined, shrieking as Rengoku found that oh so terrible spot under his ribs. “GEHEHET OFF OHIHOF MEEEHEHEHEE!!!”

“Mmm…maybe I wanted you to laugh too!” Rengoku shrugged, laughing along as Giyuu fought to escape from his tickly embrace. “Don’t try to escape, Tomioka! I wanna make sure that smile stays on your face!”

As much as Giyuu didn’t want to smile, he couldn’t help but smile and laugh as Rengoku continued to dig into his sides. Much to Giyuu’s shock, Rengoku tickled every ticklish spot one could have, deciding that he enjoyed the reactions Giyuu gave of his sides, armpits and thighs were tickled.

“IHIHIT HURTS!!” Giyuu complained, kicking out frantically. “MY CHEHEHEEKS HUHUHURT!! LEHEHET ME GO!!!!”

The rest of the group snickered as Giyuu let out a shrill scream, kicking and flailing about as Rengoku sat on his thighs and dug his fingertips into his stomach. Hands batted weakly at Rengoku, desperate for the tickling to stop but too weak to put an end to the activity. Gyomei finally decided to stand up and put an end to the chaos realizing that Giyuu was slapping the ground constantly and struggling to catch his breathe.

“Alright, alright. Let him go, Rengoku.” Gyomei chuckled, patting his head. “I think Tomioka’s cheered up enough.”

Taking one more good long look at Giyuu, Rengoku nodded and released Giyuu from his grasp. Extending a hand, he helped Giyuu to his feet and chuckled.

“You okay?” he asked, once again ruffling Giyuu’s messy hair.

“Sure. Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Giyuu replied, his face going back to its normal appearance.

“Hey, can you at least smile a little?” Rengoku asked, pulling Giyuu’s lips up into a forced smile.

“If you stop touching my lips and forcing me to smile, maybe I will.” Giyuu replied, making Rengoku laugh and pull away.

“Good, now come join us.”

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies–materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…” 

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says. 

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

[wrestlingisfake]

A brief history of CM Punk-AEW drama

Saw someone ask for a full recap of the Punk/AEW drama. So I spent an hour writing a decent summary, and by the time I finished they deleted the post I was trying to reblog. That's okay, I get it. But since I put in the work I'm just gonna make my own post, in case anyone else has questions.

I have tried to keep this as unbiased as possible, with a summary of the discourse at the end. If anybody needs more clarification on anything you can send me an ask.

CM Punk signed with AEW in 2021. Right away a big issue that came up was his ex-friend Colt Cabana. (Long story.) By early 2022, rumors began to swirl among the wrestlers that Punk was using his star power to get Cabana pushed out of the company. Cabana's friends in the company assumed the rumors were true and resented Punk. This came to a head in May 2022, when Adam Page referenced the rumors on live TV, in a segment with Punk. By this point Punk's relationship with Page and the Young Bucks was damaged beyond repair.

On September 4, 2022, during the post-show scrum for All Out, Punk aired his grievances with the Young Bucks (always referring to them as "the EVPs") and Adam Page. Punk clearly believed the Bucks manufactured the "Punk is trying to force Cabana out" story and leaked it to wrestling news sites to turn the locker room against Punk. Punk closed by saying that if anybody had a problem with him, he had an "open door" policy, and he'd be in his dressing room. The Bucks and fellow EVP Kenny Omega went to see him. A fight broke out. Everyone involved--even people who just tried to break it up--was suspended for a while (except Punk, who was going to be sidelined for months for a torn triceps either way).

We don't have much solid information about the September 2022 fight. Most reports I read suggest Punk and his friend Ace Steel made it physical, with Punk punching one of the Bucks (maybe both, I can't remember) and Steel throwing a chair and biting Omega. One account said the Bucks kicked the door open, unwittingly hitting Punk's dog in the face and knocking several teeth loose, which would have provoked Punk's side. It's also been suggested that since Steel's wife was in the room and in no condition to flee a potential three-on-two ambush, this could have made Steel and Punk feel they had to come out swinging. There is no footage of the fight, but there were neutral parties who witnessed it (notably including AEW's chief legal officer, Megha Parekh). Everyone involved signed NDAs and can't/won't talk about it on the record.

For the next nine months, it wasn't clear if Punk wanted to come back to AEW, or if AEW wanted to bring him back. Lots of people suggested that Punk and the three EVPs could talk it out and then make a lot of money turning it into a fake wrestling feud. But Omega and the Bucks showed no interest in talking to Punk or working with him. Ultimately Punk returned in June 2023 on a new show, Collision. The idea was that the EVPs (and anyone else who couldn't co-exist with Punk) would stay on Dynamite, and Punk would have carte blanche on Collision.

Within a couple of months, reports emerged about backstage issues involving Punk. The main one that blew up involved Jack Perry, who was always tight with the Bucks, and was typically on Dynamite, and not on Collision. Perry had vacation time scheduled and wanted to shoot an angle to explain his absence, in which HOOK would throw him into a car windshield. For some reason it didn't get done on a Dynamite taping, so arrangements were made to shoot it at a Collision taping. Everybody who thought the windshield spot with real glass was a bad idea asked Punk to talk Perry out of it. It's not clear whether Tony Khan approved the spot for Dynamite, or rescheduling it for Collision, or allowing Punk to have the last word. Ultimately the windshield spot was canceled.

On August 31, 2023, Perry wrestled Hook at All In, and they finally did the windshield spot that Punk previously nixed. Perry went out of his way to reference the earlier story, saying "You know what this is? Real glass! Go cry me a river," as if daring Punk to do something about it. After the match, Perry went behind the curtain just as Punk and Samoa Joe were getting ready for their match. By all accounts, Punk complained to Perry, Perry was like "what are you going to do about it?" and Punk decided that justified starting a fight. It was broken up very quickly, and then Punk got all hostile with Tony Khan, saying "this place is a joke and you're a clown." Punk was asked to leave, and within a week he had been terminated with cause.

The "CM Punk did nothing wrong" position, generally speaking, is that AEW is severely mismanaged, with Tony Khan allowing the Young Bucks and their friends to do a lot of dumb bullshit, leaving Punk no choice but to take matters into his own hands. Punk's enemies within AEW conspired to turn the locker room against him, and used wrestling news outlets to spread anti-Punk stories to turn the fandom against him. In any case, Punk is the biggest star AEW has ever signed (if not the biggest star AEW will ever sign), and it was bad for business to let him get so discouraged.

The "Punk screwed Punk" position, generally speaking, is that his grievances with AEW management stopped mattering whenever he resorted to physical force. His Bruiser Brody approach to throwing his weight around is backward and outdated in the 2020s (and didn't even end well for Brody in the 1980s). His assumption that the Bucks planted anti-Punk stories in the media is unfounded, and rather paranoid. He resents the EVPs for lawyering up instead of burying the hatchet, even though he feels totally justified taking the same approach with Colt Cabana. Basically, Punk thinks he can do what he likes, and anyone else who does the same against Punk's wishes is a snake, a clown, or soft.

Splitting the difference between these takes: Everybody should have talked this out by early 2022, before it got out of hand. Tony Khan should have gotten out in front of the the "Punk is trying to get rid of Cabana" rumors before they got online. Punk and Cabana should have come to terms on how they would co-exist as soon as Punk joined the company. Adam Page should not have bottled up his grievances until he was on live TV, and Punk should not have bottled up his resentment about that until a media scrum. Once it got past that point, and the first fight happened, Khan needed to take charge and settle it, immediately. He needed to choose, in September 2022, between keeping Punk aboard at all costs, or showing Punk who's boss at all costs. Instead, he tried to have it both ways for a year, until Punk made that impossible.

[queerstake]

As a queer drawn to the faith and trying to deal with the messiness of entering into everything, I've been trying hard to read more of the Book of Mormon because I only have a very vague understanding of it's Whole Deal, but executive dysfunction, ADHD, and honestly, a million other excuses are making it very difficult. Are there any good resources for walking through the fundamentals? Childish but I feel like I'm disappointing the Lord if I'm not more on top of this.

Hi anon! I totally get it and yes, I can think of a few ideas!

If you're looking for ways to understand the BoM (or even just general doctrine) from more of a bird's eye view:

I hope you don't find this silly, but when I was a kid, the church published an illustrated children's version of the BoM that's obviously way quicker to flip through. It might be harder for you to find those exact editions I read as a kid if you don't have ready access to a church library, BUT I found this!! It's (almost) the ENTIRE BoM illustrated and summarized and it's online!

Looks like they put out videos too that summarize the BoM beginning to end. Here's a link to the video series. I haven't seen these, so I can't vouch for them, but they might be helpful! Similarly, there's a BoM in 60 seconds video you might find helpful.

If you'd benefit from a schedule, the church is currently studying the BoM in sunday school! The past few years, we've been using a study guide called Come Follow Me with weekly assigned reading chapters. I've actually been working on posts about CFM as they relate to queer mormon theology, but I haven't had much posted yet since I've been having a rocky start to 2024. As things improve, I'll be able to hopefully even establish a schedule on this blog!

I'm not sure if missionary lessons is something you're interested in at this point, and it's definitely not something you ever need to do, but the missionary lessons themselves are a pretty good doctrine intro if you're looking for just Mormonism 101 in a digestible way. The missionaries teach out a book called Preach My Gospel, which is available right here. You'll be interested in the lessons, which are found in Chapter 3. If you just scroll down, you'll see some of the links are labeled Lesson instead of Chapter--just click on those bad boys. And if you have any doctrinal questions, I'm always MORE than happy to talk about the church! You'll probably get a faster answer DMing me personally at @logans-mormon-blog, but I'll always answer asks here as soon as time permits.

If you're looking for easier ways to finish the BoM from beginning to end:

The BoM on tape. The church has an audiobook version available on the Gospel Library app and other audio apps like Spotify.

The Reader's Edition. If you can get your hand on a reader's edition, a lot of people find this is an easier way to plow through the BoM. What's special about this one is that it's formatted not like scripture but like prose, and it really does change the reading experience!

I don't know if this helps any, but I struggle with some of the same issues as you and I'm always bitterly disappointed when I'm not able to move mountains. If I had my way, I'd be the most well-read scriptorian of all time and this blog would be updated constantly. But life often doesn't shake out that way. I spend way more time than I want to with my brain entirely burned out of my head. So you're not alone, if that's any comfort. I think God gets it--he made our brains, after all, and knows how hard it is to wrestle with. It's easier said than done, but don't beat yourself up. God loves the both of us and he's the most perfectly patient person who's ever lived. He's not frustrated or disappointed with our efforts. Religion exists, in my opinion, to help improve and enrich our lives, not make them more challenging OR even to make them perfect if we only could just run fast enough. I too wish I could be more diligent and on it, but shit happens, right? And we're not on earth to be perfect, we're here to be happy and to learn. When Joseph Smith was translating the BoM, God told him "Do not run faster or labor more than you have strength and means provided to enable you to translate; but be diligent unto the end." D&C 10:4. We're doing our damndest, and that's all God even wants from us.

If anyone else has more resource ideas, please let us know!

-Logan

[jawneepie]

₍ᵔ·͈༝·͈ᵔ₎ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒏 𝑯𝑪𝒔 ♡̸ ꒷꒦˓

𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒕 ˖ ࣪ . ִֶָ𓂅

⠀⠀⊹ . : 𖥔˖࣪   ˖ ࣪ . ִֶָ𓂅 *  ˖ 𓏲࣪⊹ . : 𖥔˖࣪   ˖ ࣪ . ִֶָ𓂅 *  ˖ 𓏲࣪

headcanons for the shawn girlies (me. I'm shawn girlies). apparently, through info from my friend, shawns actually admitted that he was shy to approach women alone. and that's cute af. so i put this new information to my lil headcanons for my pure self indulgence. bless

→ You met Shawn at work. Being in the wrestling business, it didn't take long for you two to cross paths. You were new to the wwf costume crew, stuck with sewing duty. While people backstage were bustling past each other, determined to make sure the show went off without a hitch, you were in a corner, sewing sequins to patterned fabric. You went unnoticed for the most part— just the way you like it.

→ It was one night when Shawn Michaels approached you with wrestlingt tights in hand, a large rip ran down the back of it. He asked if you could fix it for him and you did. Wrestlers would usually leave you to your work but Shawn wasn't one of them. He pulled one of many folded steel chair towards him, unfolded it, and sat beside you. You two hit it off, albeit slowly. Unlike his wrestling persona, Shawn was quiet with a certain shyness to his eyes. You were used to how he would preen like a peacock on TV and how he would showboat around thinking he was God's gift to women. It was jarring to have the heart break kid avoiding eye contact and giving small smiles. You two talked until you finished mending his tights.

→ Every once in a while, Shawn would walk up to you with rips on his chaps, missing sequins on his hat, and the occasional lopsided belt buckle. You could see his friend, Diesel, peeking out the corner of the hallway, shooting Shawn encouraging looks. You never failed to fix whatever Shawn gave you and he never failed to talk your ear off. It became a routine. He would go to you, talk, then leave. You liked it.

→ You finished mending his gear and he walked away with a spring to his step. You weren't an idiot and Shawn wasn't as slick as he thought he was. The rip on his tights wasn't from an accident, the seams were too clean for it to be. You suspected Shawn ruined his own gear with a pair of scissors to have an excuse to talk to you. And your suspicions were correct.

→ He soon approached you just to be with you, no sewing favors needed. Shawn would watch you while you worked like a child, piping up when need be ("Y'know, Hunter told me he liked glitter on his gear" "Really?" "Cross my heart, he told me")

→ It was after a house show in Utah when Shawn first asked you out. He was still tired from his match. With sweat-soaked hair and a busted lip, he invited you to dinner the moment he got backstage.

→ Shawn would share his gear ideas with you. They were outlandish. Zebra patterned chaps? Golden tights? Mirrors??? He was passionate about it and you found it oddly endearing. You try your best to sew whatever he was talking about. To test out his gear's durability, he does his little jig, jumping around. He purposely exaggerates his 'dancing' to make you laugh.

→ He often steals some of your jewelry to wear to the ring. Especially the dangling earrings you hardly ever wore. You ended up giving them to him anyway, it didn't seem like he was going to return them anytime soon.

→ When he doesn't have a match scheduled, you two would spend time together backstage in your little sewing corner. He tried to sew his own gear but it didn't come out like he wanted it to. He ends up cutting fabric for you instead. You two judge wrestler gear on the down low.

→ Shawn immediately looks for you after his matches, no matter how tired he is. He loves it when you praise him for his work. His eyes would light up and a stupid smile would spread on his lips. In return, he compliments your sewing skills, both your cheeks tinted pink

[homoeroticgrappling]

Forgive me if this is self indulgent and sappy, but I just wanted to share some serious personal appreciation for RJ City, more under the cut. I got into wrestling by being invited by a close friend to watch AEW with them, and one of the first major reactions I had after thinking I could get heavily invested in it was to see RJ City and yell "GILDAR??" at an alarming volume.

At the All In welcome event in London, I chatted with people in the queue about how I wasn't allowed to watch wrestling when I was younger but I loved Splatalot and how excited I was to find out my favourite defender was the dashing host with the most for AEW. So many people in the wrestling community have fond memories of growing up watching the Hardys, Punk, Sting etc. For me I didn't have that but I did make sure I was sat in front of the TV for every episode of Splatalot and being around 13/14 it was one of the very last things I felt able to enjoy wholeheartedly in the way you love things before you're told you're "too old" to be so openly enthusiastic. At one point at a friend's house we tried to dress up as our favourite defenders, I may not have had the rippling muscles or quick wit but I had long dark hair and access to eyeliner so that was good enough for me to get my Gildar on, we threw tennis balls around her living room until we were forced to stop (sorry to Katie's mum and her Galileo thermometer, a casualty of our enthusiasm). Although it probably wasn't considered very cool to be doing that as a teenager, I remember laughing until we had stitches and talking about the previous day's episode on the hour long walk to school, I was thrilled to see a familiar face when I started my journey into being a wrestling fan. It was like showing up alone to a party where you expected not to know anyone and being terrified about if you'd fit in, then being pleasantly surprised and relieved to see an old acquaintance standing by the punch bowl.

Nostalgia goggles can make for disappointment when you revisit things through the eyes of an adult but watching RJ's work with AEW, he was even funnier and more engaging than I remembered, his hair more lustrous, and he had a magical ability to play off literally anyone you put him with. Watching Hey! EW became my favourite way to learn about the people on the roster as a new fan, and it became routine to tune in to RJ Makes Coffee In His Underwear. As I branched out further I found his work with Olde Wrestling was delightful, and if you haven't seen RJ City: Wrestling Raconteur I highly recommend it. The recently uploaded David Arquette Got Me A Talk Show is also a blast and well worth a watch! He's been a huge part of one of the most engaging storylines in AEW right now with Toni Storm and his increasingly frequent appearances on TV have been delighting me to no end.

I've had friends say to me that if RJ City was a real place, I'd own a vacation home there and I'm only half sure they were joking. When All In at Wembley was announced and discussion started about who'd be on the card, the first thing I said to a friend was "RJ better be there" and when I got to the All In welcome event I was more excited to see RJ on stage than anyone else at the event, I have the messages to friends to prove it:

When he mentioned Splatalot on stage at the welcome event I popped HARD and after getting back from All In, I decided to shoot my shot (not really expecting much because y'know maybe he doesn't want to be associated with a show he did years ago when he's got so many more current and impressive career things going on? He's currently crushing it with Hey! EW and Timeless Toni so maybe he doesn't want people messaging him about his stint as a handsome viking)

Not only was he willing to help, he really went above and beyond despite a (presumably) very busy schedule and was a total sweetheart about the whole thing and even threw in some stickers! I now have to get a frame to display this in a suitably prominent place on my wall

So thank you RJ City, for being even cooler than 14 year old Rowan thought you were (also I was right about you being the best defender, Gildar > Thorne my sister can go suck eggs)

[f1-disaster-bi]

For the send me a ship and i’ll tell you thingy could you do norrix please? Thank you 🩷

I hope this makes sense!

Who hogs the duvet:

Lando hogs the blankets because he's always cold and Martin wrestles them back every time he wakes up cold because of the stolen blankets.

Who texts/rings to check how their day is going:

Both of them do this, especially during race weeks and when touring. They know they don't have a lot of time when things overlap, so texting is there way of keeping in touch and making sure the other is okay

Who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts:

Again both of them are creative about gifts in different ways. Martin might put together a playlist of songs that remind him of Lando, or design a hoodie specifically for Lando. Lando would get some braclets or rings specifically designed for the other.

Who gets up first in the morning:

Lando generally gets up earlier than Martin but that's just because he has to for training and staying on schedule. During the break, they both generally sleep in and get up around the same time

Who suggests new things in bed:

Martin suggests things a little more than Lando, but during sex, Lando isn't as worried about suggesting new things and often brings up something he wants to try

Who cries at movies:

Neither of them really cry at movies. They both have on occasion, and normally they cry at the same scenes and end up (gently) bullying each other over it while cuddling

Who gives unprompted massages:

Lando at the start, but after Martin learns about Lando's back issues, he starts to give massages more because he wants to take care of Lando.

Who fusses over the other when they’re sick:

Martin fussses over Lando because he's heard from Max and Jon that Lando's favourite phrase is "I'm fine" even when he's running a temperature

Who gets jealous easiest:

They don't really do jealousy. Both of them know they only want each other, and tease each other over other people flirting with them

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music:

Martin claims it's Lando and when Lado argues, he points out that he's the muscian among them so what he says goes. He's mostly teasing Lando, but there are a few songs Lando loves that Martin thinks are cringe

Who collects something unusual:

Martin collects headphones. He likes having various ones with different features and different designs, and knows what each of them does and will explain them at great lenght

Who takes the longest to get ready:

Lando takes longer to get ready because of his curls. Martin sometimes helps him style it after learning about Lando's routine from Lando, and Lando loves it

Who is the most tidy and organised:

Martin is the tidier out of the two which surprises no one. Lando has to be reminded to hang up towels instead of leaving them on the floor

Who gets most excited about the holidays:

Lando does because the holidays normally mean a break from racing where he can actually spend time with Martin without having to jet off after a few hours, and he can relax and indulge in a few cheat meals

Who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Martin is the big spoon and Lando is the little spoon. Lando always claims to want to be the big spoon but never actually tries to do it.

Who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports:

Lando is more competitive. Martin kinda suspected he would be, but he never expected just how competitive and serious Lando will take something as soon as Martin says its a competition

Who starts the most arguments:

Neither of them really start arguments? They bicker about things, but it's normally over things like Lando leaving socks around or Martin not hearing Lando talking to him cause he's working on stuff with headphones on

Who suggests that they buy a pet:

Martin brings it up a little while after they move in together. He brings up the idea of getting a dog which Lando would love but Lando worries about them being away a lot

What couple traditions they have:

Texting each other memes at least once a day. Sweet nicknames. Forehead and cheek kisses. Linking pinkies instead of holding hands. Making each other playlists.

What tv shows they watch together:

When they get time, they watch a lot of movies together even though Lando nodds off during some of them. Lando also gets him to watch some youtube channels he likes with him.

What other couple they hang out with:

They hang out with a mix of Martin's friend and their partners, and the likes of Max, Daniel, George and Alex.

How they spend time together as a couple:

They go on dates when they can even if it's just going shopping for clothes. Lots of cuddles. They go to clubs and parties together (and make out in bathrooms and cloak rooms). They have silly little debates. Lots of videocalls when seperated.

Who made the first move:

Martin made the first move after realising Lando was never going to make it despite clearly liking Martin back.

Who brings flowers home:

Neither of them are really into flowers, but Martin has brought them home once or twice as little joke between the two of them

Who is the best cook:

Martin is the better cook. Lando tries, and he fails. Martin learns quickly not to leave Lando cook unsupervised.

[nakanotamu]

Rossy got fired from stardom??????????

LMAOOOO I was just about to post "lmao Rossy got fired" and then I saw this yeah apparently he got fired after the show last night. I never got around to writing that post about the management issues so I guess I'l try and summarize some relevant points before people panic

Okay so Rossy was off of booking since some time last year. We don't know for sure but my guess is that All Star Grand Queendom was his last show as booker, based on the belt going to Tam apparently being his decision and the timing of when stuff started to fall apart very shortly after that.

He was highly critical of the last president (who had been booking) once that guy got fired - and the issues with him were more than just booking. This was the stuff Giulia talked about. Like the schedule he booked was way too grueling on the wrestlers with non-stop big matches & shows back to back to back, and he would book matches just out of the blue without paying any attention to the stories the wrestlers were trying to tell, where Rossy's style was to just let the wrestlers throw out story threads themselves and then book what he thought would sell out of what they wanted to do. He also just was an idiot and didn't seem to think particularly highly of wrestling in the first place, pushing tons and tons of product tie-ins and advertising shit and the fucking NFT shit and. Yeah he sucked

However despite being highly critical of the last guy once he was gone, Rossy also said he didn't comment on the decisions he was making. He also may have been the one who decided who won or lost in the period before the new president came in, but from what's been made public at least, as soon as he came in he took over, so Stardom since whenever that was like the start of December has been the new president in charge.

So what I'm trying to say is, at least creatively, this probably isn't actually a huge change for Stardom compared to the past roughly a year of the product. People freaking out that the booker is just suddenly gone, he apparently hasn't been the booker for a while already now anyway. If you didn't notice a change in booking twice last year you probably won't notice this either.

So, yeah, Rossy did get fired. Bye bitch, it would be nice if this meant Sonny is on the way out too. Rossy is absolutely fucking not the guy who saved joshi wrestling or whatever the fuck narrative he & a lot of western wrestling media have been trying to present him as for years now. This probably isn't going to lead to a massive shift in Stardom's booking compared to what it's already been for months, and just as a fan we have no way of knowing what else this is going to impact, because it's hard to tell how much influence he even had for the past year, which was admittedly bad but more recently imo showing signs of turning around.

I think it's worth pointing out that one of the things that drove me off of both Reddit and Twitter wrestling fandom is that whenever shit like this happens everybody's gotta be a fucking insider or whatever and we don't. Know. Anything. But further than that it's not our fucking problem. We don't work for Bushiroad and we don't know anybody involved. We don't NEED to worry about what this means for The Business or whatever the fuck because that doesn't matter to us. I care about the roster being treated well and the product being one I am enjoying, and Rossy already couldn't prevent both of those things from not happening last year, so obviously he's not gonna be the difference maker.

My concern if I have one though is mostly the roster. If people are loyal enough to him to start jumping ship that would really suck. If the rumours that are already going around that he was poaching people for a potential NXT Japan pan out in any way that would REALLY suck. Even if the entire roster went I'm not going to watch a WWE product or even a show that isn't women in every match. So I guess as ever all we can do is wait and see.

[lunarwritesthings]

We'll Meet Again

Paring: Jeff Hardy × Oc

Fandom: Wwe

Request: Yes, by anon

Summary: Two wrestlers in a relationship. What happens? That's simple, right person, wrong time.

Note: Jeff has never been with Beth in this. nothing against Beth I just thought it would better, this also takes place around the early 2000s

Warning: mention of addiction

Everyone knows the saying "right person, wrong time". Of course, not everyone believes that. Sometimes you don't really how true that can be until you're in that situation.

Jeff Hardy, the famous high flyer and daredevil was one of the people that didn't believe in the saying. He didn't understand how you could meet the right person at the wrong time. Now it wasn't like Jeff was single, it was quite the opposite actually. Jeff was dating the wonderful Raven better known as Sabien.

Raven a fellow high flyer and daredevil. One that could even rival that of Jeff hardy was someone that believed in the saying "right person wrong time". Raven believes this because they knew Jeff was the one for them. He was the person they saw forever with. They didn't see themselves with anyone else, after all, Raven and Jeff have been dating for a few years.

Raven and Jeff were in a mostly perfect relationship. The one problem they never really had time with each other due to their job. Raven didn't like how little time they and Jeff got together but they would never say anything as they understood why it was like this.

Jeff was affected by the lack of time he got with his partner but he couldn't do much. He'd gain a ton of popularity, so wwe wanted to use him more than before leaving him with not much free time. This however had worn him out. Jeff knew it was affecting the reliability and he felt horrible about it. There was one solution that lived in the back of his mind that he didn't want to go to unless it was absolutely the last choice.

Jeff knew what would happen if this kept up. Of course, he cared about Raven and loved them therefore it'd be unfair to them if Jeff kept them in a relationship that was becoming distant because of how busy he was. There were two very difficult work schedules between the two.

One day it happens. Jeff had gotten even busier and barely responded to messages from Raven. He felt horrible. It was wrong to keep them in a relationship that was basically dead. He cared about Raven too much to do that to them. At this moment, this break-up was about to change a lot for both of them.

Raven had put all of their energy and focus into training and wrestling. Their friends had an idea of what happened. It was hard not to since they stopped talking about Jeff like they used to instead opting to avoid the topic of Jeff altogether. Raven wasn't doing well but that was no surprise. They used to gush about how amazing Jeff was, how much they love him, and how much they saw a future with him. The break-up had hit Raven hard.

How was Jeff handling the break-up? He hadn't even gotten time to process it. He'd been so busy until now. Jeff was worn out and had fallen down a bad spiral, due to this wwe had no choice but to let him go. He'd violated the wellness policy. Having a lot of time for himself, Jeff realized that he made quite a few mistakes. Jeff knew what he needed to do and he was going to achieve those things regardless of what got in the way.

Raven had heard about what happened, they wanted to be there to support Jeff but also knew he needed space to think, so they choose to support him from the shadows. How did they do that? by sending small gifts as encouragement, every gift had a small note with it. Raven was unsure if they wanted Jeff to know it was from them or not. Of course, Raven knew how Jeff was doing. How? Simply, you can't be friends with only one Hardy, especially when you were dating one for a long period of time.

Matt wasn't oblivious to the break-up between Raven and Jeff. Jeff had explained everything to Matt. After that conversation, Matt texted Raven as quickly as he could. He knew how much Jeff meant to them. Matt hadn't seen anyone look at Jeff like Raven did. They always look at Jeff like he was perfect and to Raven he was. If Matt is being honest with himself he saw Raven as a younger sibling and fully thought that one day Jeff and Raven would have gotten married. Honestly, Matt was surprised they weren't already married with how they looked and felt about each other.

Jeff had caused the world to worry when he disappeared for a full year. He didn't wrestle; he didn't post on social media. Why? He was busy getting him and his life together, well partly. He was clean. He was in amazing shape. There was one that had changed over that year and confirmed to him that he was missing one thing.

Jeff Nero Hardy has come to believe in the saying "right person, wrong time". The year of nothing having Raven by his side physically was dreadful. Of course, he knew the random little gifts were from Raven. It always brought a smile to his face to know they were supporting him even if it was from a distance. Yet it had been in this time he realized the mistake in the relationship he'd made and he made sure to fix those things about himself.

How did Raven and the rest of the world find out Jeff was doing amazing? By his music playing and him walking to the ring with a purpose of course. Can there be a Jeff return if it wasn't at least a little shocking and crazy?

Raven was in their locker room watching the show and drawing new wrestling gear when they heard it. His music. Raven's attention snaps to the tv to see a very happy and healthy Jeff Hardy standing on the ramp. They saw the look in his eyes. They knew whatever he was about to say or due had a purpose that was special to him and it was a purpose that only appeared in certain situations, like when he'd talk about his art, music, wrestling, and Raven. Raven paid attention to what Jeff was doing and saying.

Jeff being the very caring person he is explained exactly what happened to the fans, but everyone including Raven and Matt were curious what the one thing he realized he was missing. Raven had a feel it might have to do with them but they were unsure until Jeff answered everyone's curiosity. It was Raven that he was missing in his life. Once again he explained exactly what happened. Jeff refused to leave until he had his best friend and partner by his side again. He know the only way for that to happen was for him to be completely honest and vulnerable so that's exactly what he was.

What Jeff didn't expect was for Raven to come out. Everyone could tell by the shocked look that was mixed with a look of love. Raven had gotten in the ring and stood in front of Jeff. Jeff had just spilled everything he'd been holding back over the year out and for once he had absolutely no clue how Raven would react. Raven hugged Jeff. They didn't say anything until the mic was far enough away so it wouldn't pick anything up. The fans were unsure how to react to what was going on. That was until everyone saw Raven and Jeff looking at each other while smiling and having a look of pure love on their faces.

Jeff was the one to explain the situation in one sentence. "The Hardy boys and Sabien are back together." The fans started going crazy and cheering like crazy. The friends of the two daredevils were extremely happy to finally see the two back together.

Jeff said he refused to leave until he had his best friend and partner by his side again. Now he was perfectly fine with leaving. He had his best friend and love by his side and life felt fucking amazingly perfect.

Jeff and Raven would go on to get married a few years later. Matt walked Raven down the aisle. It was a perfect day. A few years ago their wedding the two would end up with two amazing daughters.

Jeff and Raven continue to have long, happy wrestling careers. Jeff would later be inducted into the hall of fame by his brother and his partner. That same night Raven was inducted by their brother-in-law and their husband.

A perfect ending to their crazy love story that made two strong believers in "right person, wrong time." For Jeff and Raven had gotten their version of a happy ending.

[saucy-sassy-sparkly]

Pursuit of Happiness

1: Meet the Littlemans

Pairing: Chris Evans x Kat Littleman (OFC)

Summary: New England political daughter Kat Littleman is constantly showing up for her mother’s campaigns, playing the part of the perfect daughter in the perfect, American family. When her paths cross with Chris Evans while he canvases DC to build out ASP, she’s forced to face some truths about herself, her family, and her future.

Word Count: ~7k

Warnings: Chris is a bit of a horndog. Lots of swearing, alcohol, sex talk, politically charged topics, chaotic families

Note: Despite spending a lot of my formative years in and around DC, I know absolutely nothing about politics or how things work on The Hill. This also runs the risk of dipping into some political topics (hopefully not heavily, but certainly some commentary and references). If that could trigger you, please avoid this.

Series Masterlist

1: Meet the Littlemans

“It’s navy blue with a hot pink luggage strap around it.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the agent’s voice was distant as she sorted through the lost luggage around her, “it isn’t here. I’ll add you to our list. Can I get a name and phone number?” She didn’t even bother to force a smile at Kat as she returned to her computer and started to click buttons, presumably opening up the never-ending list of people whose luggage had been lost by United Airlines.

Kat rattled off her name and number, muttered a quick “thanks” to the agent who had already turned to the next customer, and wrestled with her tote bag over her puffy winter jacket. She shuffled through the hubbub of Dulles baggage claim and made her way to the sliding doors and the waiting arrivals pick-up.

The doors wooshed open and the blustery November air hit her straight in the face, sending her hair flying around her and sticking in her chapstick. Kat stopped abruptly to rummage through her bag and find her beanie, yanking it firmly on her head, and returning to scanning the waiting cars for her father’s huge SUV.

After pacing the sidewalk to the end of the waiting cars, Kat finally reached for her phone in the back of her jeans pocket and groaned when she realized she hadn’t even powered it back on. Being the rule-follower she was, if the flight crew asked that you turn off devices, she dutifully turned all of her devices off and sowed them for the flight. In the chaos at baggage claim, she’d forgotten to turn it back on.

As the screen lit up in her hands, she saw the missed calls and then texts from her father. Or rather… her father’s assistant, Ted. Why a former NFL tight end turned garden fanatic even had an assistant was unfathomable to Kat, but nonetheless she put the phone to her ear and listened to Ted’s voicemail.

“Hi Kathrine, it’s Ted. Ted Brown, Tim’s–err– your father’s assistant that is. I’m calling to let you know that your father tried to pick you up when your flight was scheduled to arrive, but once he learned it was delayed, he came back to the townhouse. He sends his apologies and looks forward to seeing you tomorrow at the gala.”

Clicking over to the texts and finding herself unsurprised to have four texts from Ted, all with the same general message and one with a link to the Uber app (thanks, Ted), and even one from her father that read: Sorry KitKat, Giants/Cowboys game was kicking off!

“For fuck sake, Dad…” she muttered before shoving her phone back in her pocket; Kat then turned to the taxi stand and was grateful there were several waiting. She poured herself into one, gave the driver her hotel address, and sank back into the seat to start doing the math:

It was currently 8:37p. By the time she got to the hotel, checked in, and to her room, it would be at least 9:15p– after a 12-hour travel day that should’ve only been 4 thanks to snow just about everywhere she was exhausted and would likely pass out after shoveling in a granola bar and water bottle from the mini bar. She had to be at a brunch with her mother at 10a Ambar, then was expected to pop over to the townhouse and visit with her father before going back to the hotel to get ready for the gala at 7p. That left her about four hours to find a black tie gown– not to mention something to wear to brunch, clean underwear, and makeup– to replace the one that was lost in the bowels of Dulles International Airport.

She fired off a quick “finally made it, talk tomorrow” text and watched the snowflakes hit the window of the cab and the lights of downtown rush by as the car took the slick streets way too quickly. But, Kat was too tired to care. She’d arrived at the airport with plenty of time for her preflight ritual: a cup of overpriced coffee and 40 minutes to read a smutty novel. She’d watched the big red “delayed” letters flash up on the departure screen once, then twice. After the fourth time, the gate agents stopped giving excuses over the intercom and just started to apologize.

Her flight finally boarded only to sit taxing for another 45 minutes before taking off for the less than two-hour flight. The 7:15p landing had then become an extra hour between waiting for the luggage carousel, discovering her bag was not coming and then hunting down the missing luggage desk.

Tim deciding to bail on pick-up and have his assistant call for him– that was the most consistent part of her day. Tim Littleman was, first of all, the opposite of his name. He was 6’4 but claimed to be 6’6, and had filled out since his professional days when Kat was a kid, but he was still fit and trim for a man in his late 50s. Tim also loved his kids but he loved football just a little bit more, even after being out of the game for years, it wasn’t a surprise– although always a disappointment– when he picked a football game over a drive to the airport with his youngest child.

Kat paid and tipped the driver and tumbled out of the car and into the infamous Watergate Hotel– her mother’s favorite spot to put Kat up for the night when she visited. Mallory always insisted it was to make life easier for Kat; as a 31-year-old, she’d obviously want her privacy from her parents when she was visiting! Over the years, Kat had stopped rolling her eyes or even bickering with her mother and had instead accepted a free stay in a balcony suite overlooking the Potomac River.

As expected, she passed out almost immediately and woke up with a start to her alarm sounding at 7:45a. The morning passed in a blur, sprinting to the nearest Zara for a quick brunch outfit to meet with Mallory and several of Mallory’s WASPy DC friends, then back to the hotel to shower and change, then back out again for brunch where her mother barely interacted with her and then headed back to her office while Kat went to the townhouse for coffee with Tim to discuss the prospects in his greenhouse garden back in Connecticut, and then back out shopping again. With only an hour to spare, she’d found a dress and pumps for the black-tie gala– an event to raise money for some important cause her mother only vaguely mentioned in her email requesting Kat’s attendance.

She was actually quite pleased with the last-minute find feeling confident when she’d examined herself in the mirror, and it fit all of Mallory’s qualifications which were: black tie appropriate, black or navy, and tasteful.

Kat used the polished metal reflection of the elevator doors to check herself one more time, smoothing down the black fabric and tossing her hair over her shoulder. The sound of the event met her ears before the doors slid open: laughter, clinking glasses, and quiet music. When she stepped out onto the plush carpet, she saw several familiar faces immediately and offered small waves and smiles while she studied the sea of people for one of her parents.

“Kathrine,” a perfectly manicured claw wrapped around Kat’s bicep signaled Mallory before she pulled her daughter around and closer to the nearest wall, “what are you wearing?”

“Hi, Mom, you look nice,” Kat deadpanned, bracing herself for impact as she took in her mother. Mallory was dressed in a perfectly tailored champagne number that was likely her typical Ralph Lauren. Her hair was pulled back in a tight French twist and she looked every bit the upper-crust Connecticut woman she was.

“This is highly inappropriate,” Mallory reached up and started to play with Kat’s hair, pulling it over her shoulders.

“I have no idea how to respond to that,” Kat bit back her urge to tell her mother that her dress looked like a wedding gown.

“Kathrine, this is just… it is far too sexy for this event.”

“This is the best I could do on short notice.”

“Short notice! You’ve known for months,” Mallory hissed at her daughter, dropping her voice so the women standing near them wouldn’t hear.

“Mom,” Kat huffed, “I told you at brunch that United lost my bag. I had to go out and get this today.”

“Right, right,” she waved at her daughter, still reaching out to maneuver her hair. “Well there is nothing we can do now,” she sighed and finally gave up before pushing her shoulders back.

Behind her was a ballroom full of political powerhouses– senators, congresspersons, aids, donors, and all the other powerful DC folks who liked to gather in rooms together and remind each other how important they are. Mallory had been working her way up the political world for years, starting on the Board of Education in Kat’s hometown (not that Mallory Littleman would’ve ever sent her children to public school, even in their wealthy town) and now just after her second election as a state senator. Hence, Kat’s summons to attend as part of the senator’s loving family. Kat hated these events… but showed up anyway.

Mallory huffed and dropped her hands to her hips, squaring her jaw at her daughter. “Don’t bring up your job.” This was a common command; never ever talk about work. Kat nodded dutifully.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t mention your… that you… the…”

Kat cut her off and failed to contain her eye roll this time, “I won’t let anyone know that we’re not the perfect family.”

“Thank you,” she said curtly, still eyeing her daughter’s dress.

“Did that hurt,” Kat laughed, looking at the tight expression on her mother’s face after displaying gratitude for her daughter.

“Do not sass me, Kathrine. Tonight is a big deal. I need it to go well.”

Kat sighed, “yes ma’am,” and neglected to bring up the fact that Mallory said that for every political event to which she dragged her daughter.

Mallory ignored her, “you know who I need you to talk to?”

Kat nodded, “I was briefed by your aids. Which, by the way, I would’ve preferred to do with you than your 19-year-old college interns.”

“I mean they are hired to take things off my plate.”

“Where’s dad, Senator Littleman?”

“Kathrine,” Mallory’s tone was warning as she turned back to Kat, “please behave.”

“Promise, Senator, now I’m going to find Dad,” Kat pushed past her mother and started to move through the room, listening for her father’s loud laughter. Despite his faults, he was the far easier parent to be around. He was easy to talk to and could entertain a crowd: the perfect way to disappear in one of these large functions was to stand near Tim and let him relive his glory days to people who just oohed and ahhed appropriately in hopes that he would end up writing them some kind of donation check.

She spotted him across the room regaling a group of men. As she passed by familiar faces, she greeted them politely, engaging in small talk when necessary, and pushing her way closer and closer to Tim. When he caught a glimpse of her, his face split into a grin and he threw his arms wide, stepping between the men surrounding him, “There’s my KitKat!” He wrapped her in a hug, smothering her in his heavily applied Polo Blue. When he kissed her cheek and draped his arm over her shoulder, he turned back to the group, “Gents, this is my beautiful daughter Kathrine.”

Kat reached out her hand to shake with the shortest of the group, who introduced himself as Mark, “Kat is fine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Exchanging quick greetings with the other two, Joe and Chris, Tim quickly charged back in control of the conversation before she could say more, “Sweetheart, these boys are trying to get me to spend some money on them.”

Mark, or maybe it was Joe, jumped in with a laugh, immediately changing the narrative to describe the new political platform they were developing, but Kat had essentially stopped listening. She was too busy batting her eyelashes at Chris. He stood almost a head taller than her, his shoulders filling out his navy tuxedo in the most delicious way. His perfectly styled hair, his relaxed stance with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a beer– how refreshing; no one in DC admitted to liking something as lowly as beer, much less a Sam Adams.

He’d had been the last to introduce himself and their hands had lingered while Chris’s blue eyes blatantly trailed slowly down her body. She’d felt a blush rising in her cheeks when his eyes met hers again and a very brief but very smug smirk crossed his features.

Slowly he returned his focus to his colleagues and let them continue to explain their new venture, glancing at Kat now and then, who got caught staring back almost every time. She had to force herself to stare at Joe and Mark while they spoke, feeling Chris’s eyes trail over her skin.

As soon as she’d approached, Chris’s eyes had been immediately drawn to the skin of Kat’s thigh exposed in her dress. Most of the room was filled with an older crowd, the younger women in the room choosing much more conservative dresses for this event. Kat’s choice, with her shoulders, a hint of cleavage, and all that leg made Chris practically salivate. He’d been back and forth to DC for the last several months as he, Joe, and Mark tried to build a following and convince the political world to work with them; each time he was surrounded by women in pantsuits or blazers. The young aides usually wore their outfits slightly tighter, but it was still the same variations of cream, navy, and red work dresses… not that it had stopped him from spending some time getting to know a few of those women.

When the three men had entered the ballroom this evening, he’d been prepared with their usual speech, ready to network and subtly beg for support. He hadn’t been prepared to be adjusting his pants at the sight of this woman’s tight ass when she turned to hug her father. Chris didn’t even bother to scold himself; they’d been working all weekend, and more importantly, Kat’s eyes were drawn to him too.

Kat recognized Chris, albeit not immediately, but after several minutes of making eyes at each other while the people around them talked, it clicked into place that she’d seen some movies that featured his washboard abs and perfectly cut pecs. She watched his reaction when she tossed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her skin (and bumping her father’s hand, which briefly ruined her moment before regaining composure); his eyes moved across her collarbone and up her neck, settling a steady gaze back on her.

No one was paying attention to them anyway. Joe and Mark were chatting away and Tim was listening the best his ADHD and slightly narcissistic brain allowed him.

“Well boys,” Tim finally said, both literally and figuratively jolting his daughter back to reality with a shake of her shoulder, “that is a truly terrific pitch, but I’m the wrong one to give it to. Just didn’t have the heart to stop you. My wife, Mallory, is the politician in the family.”

As if summoned, Mallory’s voice called over Kat’s shoulder, “there you two are,” in a huff and appeared at her daughter’s side, putting more distance between Kat and Chris. Tim remade the introductions of the group and Kat didn’t miss the way Chris’s eyes stayed on her, not Mallory, when the three of them once again began to explain their idea.

This time, Chris did most of the talking, Joe and Mark only offering occasional additions, but he continued to flicker his eyes to Kat. Kat found herself more impressed; she’d assumed he was the Hollywood buy-in to get politicians' attention, not part of the actual brain power. She listened to him, adding her own questions as her mother did the same, and watched him get more and more animated as he rattled off what seemed to be a heartfelt passion project.

He finally paused when Joe took over explaining the technical side to Mallory and Kat allowed herself to look back at his stupidly handsome face; he lifted his beer towards her and raised his eyebrow, silently asking if she wanted a drink.

Kat started to nod when a well-dressed staff member approached and invited them to find their seats, dinner was being served. Chris spoke up before the group separated, “I’m going to grab another drink before I go to the table, can I get anyone anything?” He looked pointedly at Kat who started to speak when her mother spoke for her.

“What a lovely offer, but Kathrine and I don’t drink. Tim?” She turned to her husband, letting him give Chris his drink order, before wrapping her hand around Kat’s arm and pulling her away from the group towards the clusters of tables without a goodbye.

“Kathrine, don’t even think about it,” she hissed, staring at the place cards on a long table and searching for theirs. She reached across Kat, snatched all three off the table, pulled Kat towards table 4, and continued, “I knew this dress was too much for tonight.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?”

“I saw the look on your face and that boy's. Don’t you dare.”

They’d reached the table and Mallory immediately dropped Kat’s arm, circling to say hello to their companions. Kat tucked herself into the nearest chair and immediately moved for the bread basket, perking up when she discovered the rolls were still warm. Mallory perched on the chair next to Kat, still in conversation with another one of DC's most powerful people whose name Kat could never remember… nor ever tried to.

Tim joined them shortly, sliding into the chair on Mallory’s other side and calling a loud, “see you boys later,” and toasted them as Joe, Mark, and Chris walked away. Kat’s eyes flickered up to catch Chris’s, offering a coy smile to his nod.

“That is what I’m talking about,” Mallory was back in her ear, using her butter knife to gesture at Chris’s broad, retreating back.

“Mother, relax, I just smiled at him.”

“You think I was born yesterday? That was not just a smile.”

“You do realize I’m 31 years old, right? And it is perfectly acceptable to smile at a man or even, god forbid, flirt with him.” Kat’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she spread her napkin on her lap.

“I don’t care how old you are, you reflect my campaign and my values every time you’re seen with me. If there are pictures of you kissing Captain fucking America, it is a direct reflection of me.”

“Literally no one cares who your adult daughter kisses.”

“You don’t think it comes up every election? You don’t think that you and your brother and… Do you know how much of my staff it takes to be sure that our family doesn’t get our business blasted across headlines?”

“I wish you realized how much America did not care about my sex life or Ben’s,” Kat reached for her ice water and sipped slowly, wishing it was a vodka tonic, and glanced at her mother’s furrowed brow, “Careful, Mom, your Botox doesn’t like when you frown.”

Mallory huffed and leaned away to start speaking to Tim, whispering frantically at him and casting sidelong glances at Kat. Kat, however, leaned back in her chair and allowed the woman next to her– a Congressman from Minnesota’s wife– to share all of the details of the grandchild her daughter was expecting. Kat had to bite her tongue while she listened to the several-minute monologue about how silly she found it that some people wouldn’t want to buy gender-specific baby clothes anymore. She let the woman talk, as she did most of these people, and let her mind wander, only staying focused enough to offer the occasional, “you don’t say” or “wow, that’s incredible.”

She truly loathed these events. She’d lost track over the years of how many she’d shown up to, how often her mother trotted her out like a prized pony to amplify her mother’s strong family value platform before being sent back home to her normal life. Each time it came with an all-expenses paid plane ticket and hotel, several– usually public to avoid real conversation– visits with her mother, at least one major political fundraiser/gala/rally/etc., and then a quick and once again public goodbye from Mallory before the whole ordeal was over.

Kat knew she could stop coming, stop being hassled by her mother and used as a pawn, she knew that she could and certainly should stop saying yes and start saying no. Ben always reminded her that no was a complete sentence.

Ben.

Ben had stopped coming to these the second he moved out of the house, right about the same time that Mallory and Tim–mostly Mallory– had refused to acknowledge that Ben might not actually be the preppy, lacrosse-playing womanizer he was bred to be and was instead questioning all parts of his identity. He’d moved to Vancouver for a job, and met a wonderful man, Kevin, who Kat adored and had never looked back.

Kat missed him terribly, even after almost 10 years of living several time zones apart, and looked forward to their annual September trip together. They’d meet somewhere each year to celebrate their birthdays… four days and four years apart… together, often surrounded by other people they loved but never ever with their parents.

Kat couldn’t actually remember the last time the four of them shared the same air. It had to have been a holiday while Kat was still in high school and Ben was home from college for a break. She knew that he occasionally emailed Tim or exchanged a quick phone call, but that Ben hadn’t spoken to their mother since the day he’d graduated from college. At their celebration dinner, he’d handed her a check and said, “I won’t owe you anything ever again,” and flown to Canada the next morning. Kat had been devastated but she knew what it was like for Ben to grow in their house. She knew the best thing for him was to put the Canadian Border Patrol between him and Mallory.

Ben was her rock, one of her favorite humans, and her constant reminder that she was a pawn in Mallory’s system and needed to get out before people started to think she actually supported their mother’s platforms. That thought pulled her back into the conversation with the Congresswoman’s wife just in time to force a cheerful, “hurry back!” when she’d told Kat she needed to use the ‘little girl’s room’ and scurried off.

Kat took the moment to enjoy the silence and scanned the room. The sea of tables was tastefully if subtly decorated in muted tones and low centerpieces on each table to allow for conversation. There had to be at least 50 tables, each holding anywhere from 10-12 guests, all various members of wealthy DC society. The majority were politicians and their donor friends; a perk of donating thousands of dollars to a cause was getting to attend other functions for free as a ‘thank you for your support’… only to be expected to write a check at the end for whichever cause the evening endorsed.

Five tables away, she found Chris’s gelled hair and sharp jawline in profile while he laughed at something the woman next to him said. She allowed herself the moment to admire the imperfect slope of his nose, the way his smile showed all his teeth, and the way his biceps were visibly flexing even under his jacket as he lifted his fork to his mouth.

“He is very handsome, I’ll give you that,” Mallory leaned closer to her daughter, who had been actively ignoring her mother trying to catch her eye, “but do not embarrass me tonight, Kathrine.”

“And what would be embarrassing for you, Mom?” Kat sighed and looked at her mom.

Mallory paused, glancing at her husband who was deep in conversation, and back at Kat, “if you did something inappropriate with him.”

Kat grinned slyly, knowing how much her mother hated these kinds of conversations, “what do you consider inappropriate?”

“You know what I mean,” she huffed.

“I’m not sure that I do. Could you explain it to me?”

Mallory sighed heavily and waggled her finger, “do not go home with that boy.”

“He seems to be all man,” Kat countered, her eyes traveling back to Chris just to spite her frustrated, demanding mother. He was rising from the table and gesturing to his tablemates, seemingly taking drink orders.

“Kathrine Marissa Littleman,” Mallory’s voice dropped low and Kat knew she’d hit a nerve, “I do not need any gossip because of you, there has already been enough talk about everything else in our family.”

“There hasn’t been anything to talk about for years, Mom, please give me a break. I’m a grown-up.”

Mallory shot her one last look and stood from her seat, moving around behind Kat and towards an empty seat at the other side of the table to start working the room now that she’d finished her meal– it didn’t matter to her that no one else had.

Kat reached into her clutch and rifled around for a pen, finding one at the bottom, and slid her place card towards her. She folded open the thick cardstock and write inside it, closing it back up and slipping the pen back in her purse before whispering, “back in a bit,” to Tim, who waved his acknowledgment, and she moved through the room to the bar.

Chris leaned on the bar in front of her, chatting with the bartender as he gathered the drinks for Chris’s table. She took a deep breath and stepped beside him and ordered a vodka tonic from the other barkeep; her voice caught Chris’s attention, who leaned on one arm.

“Kathrine,” her name in his deep timbre sent a chill down her spine and a warmth filling her belly.

“Christopher,” she countered, throwing a smile over her shoulder at him.

“I see that ‘we don’t drink’ thing was bullshit,” he nodded to the drink she now took a deep swallow from.

“Just another politician making things up.”

He gathered the drinks from the bartender– another beer for him, a wine for one of his tablemates, and a scotch for Joe, and turned to her– “Gimme a second. Don’t move.”

Kat nodded and watched him strut away; she toyed with the place card in her hand. She flipped it open, looking at her handwriting on the inside, and looked back up at Chris, who was just arriving at the table. Throwing her shoulders back, she followed after him, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought you were waiting for me,” he said quietly, dipping his head low to talk to her.

“I changed my mind,” she smiled and slid her hand down from his shoulder, briefly across his bicep, and to grip his large hand. She squeezed, pushing the cardstock into his hands, and turned gracefully on her heels. She moved slowly, knowing he was watching her, and swung her hips ever so slightly as she made her way across the room to the exit closest to the elevator.

She entered it alone, letting the doors slide shut and giving her a chance to take a deep breath, and another gulp of her drink before the doors were opening again on her floor.

In her room, she finished off her drink and mixed a new one from the minibar, and then moved across the suite to stand at the sliding glass doors. Her heart was pounding in her chest with both anticipation and anxiety, knowing she could be stood up, but hoping she’d read him right. Several long minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. Kat took her time to cross the room, finishing off her second drink on the way, and pulling the door open to Chris standing, both hands in his pockets, on the threshold.

“Hey you,” his crooked grin melted any nerves she had and she reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the room; she shut the door after dropping the “do not disturb” sign on the handle and turning to face him.

“Drink?” She started to move around him towards the mini bar but he used their still connected hand to pull her to him.

“Maybe after,” his boyish grin was gone and replaced with a sexy smirk; he held their hands to his chest while his other hand reached up to her shoulder, pushing a few strands of hair off her neck. His fingertips trailed along her clavicle before coming to rest at the back of her neck and leaning towards her.

He slotted his lips over Kat’s, the kiss hovering for a moment in sweetness before his tongue swiped at her bottom lip and the movement shifted. Kat stepped closer to him, allowing his tongue to swipe against hers and pushing her chest into his while his hands covered all the planes of her body, squeezing her hips and her ass, trailing gentle touches up her arms and into her hair to hold her to him and continue the needy kiss. She slid her hands up his body and tugged at his bow tie, feeling grateful for making out with Miles Sharpton at cotillion who taught her how to untie a butterfly knot. Once it fell around his neck, she slid her arms under his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Chris let it hit the floor and stepped away from it to push Kat– one hand on her hips, the other still grasping her neck— towards the dresser.

The backs of her thighs bumped the large wooden piece and she let herself lean against it while he pressed into her, his mouth now trailing her neck and his hands grasping at the back of her dress, pawing for the zipper. Kat pushed his chest away from him, his lips pulling from hers with an audible suction noise, and she panted to catch her breath while her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt. Each one she popped open exposed more of his chest, undershirt, and, to her surprise, a smattering of dark ink that made her mouth water.

She leaned forward and kissed the exposed skin, while she continued her journey down to his belt. Kat tugged his shirt free from his pants and glanced up at him through hooded eyes to find him watching her. Chris’s hands were rubbing her shoulders, raising goosebumps on her skin and sending a fire straight to her core.

Her hands hovered on his belt buckle, slowing the momentum of the last several minutes but giving neither of them pause. Chris watched her, licking his lips and trying to decide which way he wanted her to come first. “Don’t stop now, baby,” his voice had dropped dangerously low and he cupped her chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip, “or I’m going to take over.”

Kat blushed deeply but held his gaze; she felt her panties dampen even more with those few words and she finished unclasping his belt, whipping it out of the loops dramatically and winking at him when he chuckled. Slowly, agonizingly slowly for Chris, she popped the button of his trousers and then slid the zipper down, holding his eyes and watching his Adam’s apple subtly bob.

Keeping her eyes glued to Chris’s, she slid her hands under the waistband of his pants, still over his boxer briefs, and rubbed slowly down his length, then back up, then back down again, reaching all the way through to briefly caress all of him before dropping her eyes to see the hard bulge that seemed to just keep growing under her hand. When Kat looked away, he took the opportunity to close his and open his jaw, letting out a low groan when she squeezed him back and forth, teasing him, knowing that he wanted her lips on his cock but she wouldn’t give it to him just yet.

She continued her work, flicking her eyes back up at him and taking in the way his chest heaved and his eyes fluttered when she stroked him in just the right away. All this response and everyone still had their clothes on…

After more minutes of this agonizingly slow tease, Chris groaned and dropped his head to press his forehead into Kat’s and growled, yanking her upright and twirling her around. “It’s my turn to tease, Kitty Kat.” The impulsive nickname made Kat’s heart skip a beat but she shoved down that feeling and leaned back into his strong chest. He held her in his arms, one wrapped around her stomach, the other reaching towards her zipper, dragging it down slowly and his hand on her stomach pulled the fabric of the gown down just enough to expose her breasts. Both of his hands slowly slithered up her body to cup them in his palms, rolling her peaked nipples between his thumb and forefingers while he kissed her neck.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded between open-mouth kisses; one of his hands dropped her breast and used it to push her hair off her neck and expose her other shoulder, licking a stripe from the nape of her neck to her earlobe and planting a kiss behind her ear. Kat’s eyes flew open, surprised to find that he’d positioned them in front of the dresser mirror where his eyes were watching her reflection.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her breasts exposed and being palmed by his large hands, Chris’s face kissing all across any exposed skin he could reach, all while never breaking eye contact. He leaned his weight into her and she felt his hard cock against her ass; she pressed her hips back into him, grinding against him and letting out a moan before closing her eyes again to enjoy all the sensations.

“Open,” he said again, his tone leaving no room for question. He pulled his lips away from hers and he stood to his full height behind her– even in her heels she was still inches shorter than him, “I want you to watch yourself.”

Kat nodded, not knowing what else to do and allowing herself to melt entirely into his embrace and his command.

His right hand left her breast and moved tantalizingly across her sternum, her stomach, and to the thigh-high slit in her dress. Chris bent forward slightly to pull the fabric up and allow him access to her lacy thong. He bunched the dress up the best he could, pushing as much fabric out of the way to expose her in the mirror and trace a finger along the top hem of her panties. His left hand still played with her breast and now, she grasped his right forearm, bracing herself against him and using her left hand to reach behind her and hold onto his hip.

Chris traced the edge of her thong again, dipping his finger under the elastic and then back out multiple times before finally sliding his hand all the way down to cup her core. He groaned into her ear as his pointer finger swiped through the wetness between her legs, “all this for me, Kitten?”

“Please,” she whimpered, bucking her hips against him in anticipation.

He hummed in agreement, nuzzling into her hair and pressing his finger into her entrance, slowly pumping in and out at a painfully slow pace. Kat dropped her head back on his shoulder, obediently keeping her eyes open to watch his hand move in the mirror. His thumb found her clit and pressed against it, moving just as slowly. She rolled her hips, trying to find more friction, more pressure, more anything, but he stilled his movements and tutted, “not yet, Kathrine.”

She whined and pushed her weight against his chest, nudging her nose against his neck and pressing messy kisses to his jaw. Her reward was a second finger pressed inside of her, slowly making a come hither motion while his thumb started to increase the pressure and pace on her clit. After more minutes of playing with her, he leaned in to kiss her lips muttering against her, “you ready, baby? You going to come now, sweetheart?” as he continued to increase the intensity and Kat’s hips moved to meet him. He pulled away from her lips, removing his hand from her breast to gently but firmly grasp her chin and turn her to face the mirror again, “watch, baby, c’mon,” he grunted, his hips now joining the fray, “c’mon, Kat, come for me, baby.”

Kat let out a strangled, semi-pornographic moan when her orgasm hit her hard, her ears ringing and her whole body shaking in Chris’s arms. He slowed his rhythm, working her over the edge and through the intensity, giving her a moment of reprieve while he kissed her shoulders, her neck, her cheek, and pulled her lips to his to give her a long, wet kiss.

“Do you have a condom,” she muttered against him, ready to feel him inside of her the moment his fingers slid out. He released her with a quick kiss, stumbling in his pants that were still undone and sagging toward his tuxedo jacket. He fished in for his wallet while Kat studied herself, still trying to catch her breath.

Chris appeared in the mirror behind her again, his hands falling to her hips and pulling the fabric of her dress up quickly. She helped him, letting the dress bunch at her hips, her breasts still exposed and now her ass as well. He stepped back from her and she watched him in the mirror.

He was palming himself in his shorts, one hand still on the curve of her hip and she arched her back slightly, giving him a more full view of her. Chris glanced up in the mirror to find her smirking; he stopped palming himself to tuck both thumbs in the waistband of her thong and drag it down her legs, helping her step out of it and tossing it somewhere in the dim room.

Still, on his knees behind her, his hands traced up her calves, the back of her knees, her thighs, as he rose to stand and smacked her ass, watching her flesh bounce. Feeling impatient, she wiggled at him, arching her back even deeper. He chuckled, “you’re ready for me, pretty girl?”

He met her eyes in the mirror and she bit her lip, nodding and watching him drop his boxer briefs. From her place in front of him, she didn’t have a good view but she listened to him snap on the condom and then mewed when he rubbed the tip of his cock through her arousal.

With one hand on her hip and the other pushing her neck to lean her closer to the dresser, he pushed into her without warning, causing Kat to cry out at the stretch. He stilled, kissed her shoulder, and waited for her to nod before he started a steady, deep rhythm, hitting the soft, spongy parts she so desperately craved. The salacious sounds of his hips meeting her ass, his grunts, and Kat’s sighs and moans filled the room quickly while he pounded into her, the pace ever increasing. Kat fumbled with her dress, trying to get to her clit. Chris moved his hand from her waist, still keeping one on her neck to hold her steady, and licked his fingers before reaching around her hips and quickly building another steady rhythm on her clit. Over and over again he thrust into her, circling her clit and groaning into her neck.

“C’mon, Kat, come for me again, let go, Kitten,” he growled while her velvet walls squeezed him tight, “I can’t hold on, come, baby,” he babbled, rocking his hips while her hips pushed back against him, chasing her release. It hit her quickly, making her legs shake and then wobble, struggling to support her weight. Chris finished with a moan drilling inside of her and draping his body over hers that was slumped against the dresser. He planted kisses on her shoulder, her neck, and then down the top of her spine before gently helping her come upright. Kat turned in his arms and slid into the dresser, letting her back lean against the mirror and lazily tugging her gown to cover her breasts just enough.

Chris snagged a few tissues from the nightstand and handed her some while he cleaned up and disposed of the condom in the trash can by the desk. He tucked himself back into his briefs and came to stand between Kat’s useless legs. He leaned forward and planted his palms on the dresser beside her legs to kiss her lazily, their tongues swiping at each other and showing no urgency.

Finally, Kat pulled back and reached up to push his hair back in place the best she could. “Your business partners will wonder where you went,” she whispered, giving him an out.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “what about that drink?”

“Next time,” she shrugged, sliding off the dresser knowing there would be no ‘next time’ and moving towards her shopping bags for the zip-up and leggings she’d bought today. Once they were in her arms, she turned back to Chris still standing there, pants around his ankles, and looking confused. “I’m going to take a shower,” she pressed up on her toes and kissed his lips once more before crossing in front of him and stepping into the large bathroom.

[midwestmade29]

Unexpected 🩵 (Part 2)

I’m having a lot of fun with this one! Part 2 is fluff and covers the moment you tell Eddie your big news! 🥰

Word count: 1,101 Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Due to the mature themes throughout, minors do not interact. if you’re under the age of 18, please KEEP SCROLLING.

Part 2 disclaimers: Cursing, sickness, mention of pregnancy tests, pregnancy. An obstetrician is a doctor who cares for people who are pregnant and delivers babies. Read at your own discretion.

Be sure to read [Part 1] first 🙂

The GIF I used hit me right in the feels 🥺

Is Eddie’s reaction to your pregnancy announcement everything you hoped it would be?

Today was the day that you were going to tell Eddie the big news. He’s going to be a daddy! You had kept the “little secret” quiet for over a week while you waited on 2 special packages to arrive. You had to play it cool when he grew concerned about you still not feeling well. “Maybe you should go to the doctor? See what’s up and get some answers. I hate seeing my girl feel so shitty. Come on, it’ll make both of us feel better if you give them a call.” He pleaded. “If I don’t feel better by tomorrow, I promise I’ll schedule an appointment. Deal?” When Eddie was satisfied with your answer, you changed the subject. “So, when did you say you’ll be home later?” “I don’t know for sure. Depends on what the boys are trying to get into today. You need me for something? I can bring you food if you want. There’s gotta be something in this city you can keep down.” He noticed your mind was in a different place when you didn’t answer him right away. “You good? You seem off. I can call the boys and reschedule if you need me here. They know my girl comes first!” “No, no! I’m fine, really. You go and enjoy your time with them, and I’ll see you when you get back.” It took a little more convincing, but eventually Eddie followed through with his afternoon plans. Once you were sure he was gone, you checked outside for any packages and sure enough, the ones you had been waiting on had been delivered! You shrieked with excitement when you pulled the custom onesie out of its box, marveling at how tiny and cute it was! You immediately grabbed the 2nd box and pulled out what had to be the world’s smallest New York Yankees hat that you knew Eddie would go crazy for. You held both little items against your chest as you fought back tears, complete joy overtaking you. Thoughts of Eddie and his tall frame holding a tiny baby- your tiny baby you created together tugged at your heartstrings, images of a blue-eyed toddler bouncing on his shoulders as he walked with them through an arena, and Eddie and your child staying up late watching old wrestling matches together while they talk about them and watch in awe. You could get lost in these thoughts forever! In a few short months, your thoughts would become your reality.

Time seemed to go by fast as you found ways to keep yourself busy. Eddie’s surprises were nestled inside the gift box you neatly wrapped along with a positive pregnancy test you took earlier just for the occasion. Now you were lounging on the couch, googling everything baby related in between dozing off and fighting off waves of nausea. At the top of your list of things you needed to find was a good obstetrician! Any friends you had with kids lived states away, so they wouldn’t be able to help. After opening one too many tabs on you phone, you heard keys jingle in the front door making your heart leap into your throat. You were nervous about telling Eddie, even though you knew you really didn’t have anything to worry about. He was going to be the best daddy and the rest of the details would work themselves out. Eddie greeted you with a big hug and kiss and asked you how you were feeling. “A little better after laying down for a while. What’d you bring home? It actually smells good!” your head nodded towards the bag of food that sat on the kitchen counter. “I was near your favorite Chinese food place and thought I’d pick some up on the off chance you’d be up for it. If it smells good to you, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?” You smiled at his sweetness, and he returned the sentiment. Eddie unloaded the bag while you got napkins, drinks, and your present for him. “What’s this love? Did I forget a holiday or some shit?” he asked puzzled, causing you to laugh at his expression. “No, you didn’t forget anything silly. I got you a little something just because. Go ahead and open it!” your heart hammered against your chest when he tore into the wrapping paper. “You know you didn’t need to get me anything. I’m just happy that-“Eddie stopped in the middle of his sentence when he pulled the lid off the box and examined the contents inside. For once in his life, Eddie was speechless! You started to squirm in your seat as he sat across from you unmoving, just staring into the box with his mouth open. “Aren’t you going to take the stuff out and see what it is?” Still in his trance, he pulled the tiny Yankees hat out first and sat it on the table. Next was the pregnancy test that caused his eyes to widen when he saw the two pink lines. He sat it down next to the hat, still not saying a word or making a sound.

When he got to the onesie, he pulled it out and held it in the air as he read what it said. His eyes immediately welled with tears when they scanned over the words “Baby Kingston is All Elite.” You interrupted the silence as you explained a small detail on the onesie, “I had them add the little crown hanging on the K in Kingston since their daddy is the Mad King. I would’ve told you sooner, but I wanted to make it special. The hat and the onesie were delivered today.” “So, this is the reason why you haven’t been feeling well lately? You…you’re…pregnant?” he mumbled. You were hesitant to respond since you couldn’t gage what he was feeling, but you nodded your head yes and spoke the words that nearly brought Eddie to his knees, “You’re going to be a daddy!” He stood abruptly, pulling you in his arms and spinning you around in the air. Laughter and cheers filled the kitchen, happy tears staining yours and Eddie’s cheeks! “So, you’re not upset? I know we didn’t plan on having a kid right now, and it changes a lot of things-“Eddie stopped you before you could ramble on, “Upset? Hell no baby! I’m far from it! Yeah, sure we weren’t expecting for this to happen right now, but we’ll figure it out together. There’s a little piece of me and a little piece of you in there now, and that’s just amazing.”

[kylefletchersgf]

⋆°.⋆❀°『River of Luck』⋆°.⋆❀°

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.

-ˋˏ [Word Count] ˎˊ : 970

-ˋˏ [Genre] ˎˊ : Fluff

-ˋˏ [TW] ˎˊ : mistakes I might have, bxb

-ˋˏ [Taglist] ˎˊ : @stacksifino @nev-danielgarciawife

[Let me know if you want to be on the taglist]

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.

You started wrestling around the time the lads did and around the time The Acclaimed started, you made some friends while working there but your dating life wasn’t so great they either couldn’t work with your traveling schedule or they was just tired of you being on the road all the time. The longer you worked there the more fond of Bowens you became but didn’t tell anyone, every time Bowens was around you he got too shy and became quiet because he was too nervous to be around or talk to you. If he did it was a quick ‘hi’ then walking away before you can see him blush.

You became friends with the lads and somewhat close to Bowens that’s when his crush on you started to develop; everyone of the lads knew except for you, Bowens would kill them if they told you before he was ready for you to know. When you hung out with the lads Bowens would always be around you but when y’all sat down he made Darius sit in between you guys to keep himself calm and hide the fact that he likes you.

When you hung out with the lads you was an ‘honorary member’ but you was a real member because of how Bowens felt about you and all the lads liked you, when you was alone with Bowens it was kind of awkward because of how you both felt without each other knowing but you still enjoyed it. It was your favorite thing about hanging out with the lads; getting alone time with Bowens. He hated it because he’s just too nervous to talk to you but you just loved being around Bowens in general, the lads could tell and you loved it.

The next week you was at work signing posters in the catering area that aew was going to sell and Bowens finally decided that he wanted you to know how he felt about you, he stood with the lads like he always did trying to think of how to tell you. “Just tell him Bono” Dante says looking at Anthony nudging him forward, Anthony froze looking at Dante “you do it for me please” he asked but Dante shook his head no

Anthony looked over at Darius and he nodded, Darius walked over to you telling the people that he needed to talk to you alone. Once they left Darius started to talk to you but it was inaudible to everyone else and it made your heart smile that Anthony felt the same way and that you finally knew. When Darius went back to the group you looked over at Bowens and smiled genuinely but made him blush, when you got done signing the posters you walked over to Anthony and the lads left to give you two privacy.

You sat on a crate that Bowens was standing next to smiling at him you asked how he felt about you, even though you already knew you wanted to hear it from him personally. “I like you I do y/n, I don’t know what it is about you but you make me nervous and happy at the same time. I was just too scared to tell you because I had a fear that you didn’t like me back which I now know is false, Darius told me you felt the same way” Anthony told you as he blushed.

You smiled at him while he blushed which made you chuckle, you looked over at him “I fight Dante tonight but after you want to go on a date with me we can meet up here and leave together?” You asked as Anthony’s face turned a bright red. “I’d love to” Bowens said finally able to control himself to answer you, you smiled kissing his cheek then walking to the stairs waiting for your turn to go out to the ring and fight.

After your match that you lost to Dante you got your stuff and left with Bowens, you guys got a shower and changed then met up again for the date. You guys walked a few blocks to go mini golfing together for a date, you paid for you guys and y’all grabbed a club and went to a course where no one else was. Even though other people was here you still wanted to be alone with him, you let him go first as you watched you guys talked more to get to know each other better.

“What made you want to start wrestling?” You asked him as he took his shot and got a hole in one, he smiled and looked over at you “I honestly just fell in love with wrestling when I was younger, if I wasn’t watching baseball I was watching wrestling.” You smile stepping up to take your shot “I can say the same” you smile again as you also got a hole in one. You guys played a couple more rounds before heading back to the hotel for the night, you ‘lost’ but it was worth it seeing the smile on Anthony’s face.

After your date you and Bowens started hanging out more alone without the lads and it kind of made them jealous but if Bowens was happy they were happy, they’re happy for Bowens but also kind of felt like the lost Bowens even though y’all still hangout with the lads; you and Bowens were mostly either alone or walking ahead of the group together.

One day in June you and Bowens made it official at the start of pride month, you posted a pic of you guys together all coupled up so you could say this is your ‘coming out’ post. Out of all your past relationships the one you currently have with Bowens is your happiest.

[stackslip]

Love hearing you speak on Roman so much like you get him!!

The man is leaking with paranoia and abandonment issues barely holding himself together with the title in his hand. Underneath the facade he shows, the manipulation, the gaslighting and the overall abuse he has been perpetuating he's just a man who's been rejected time and time again. From his peers,his family and the audience. He's gotten what so many have coveted but its empty and hollow. I'm interested in seeing how his character will progress after wrestlemania. Will people question his tribal chief title? Will he break down? How will the dynamics with his family members change? Honestly I'm waiting for Seth-Roman confrontation because it will be so ough

Side note but it's also really funny that he always gets betrayed by similar people like Seth,Sami and Jey. My little headcanon is that he lets his guard down with more light hearted people like Jey & Sami as a result of his Shield days. Roman to me is just in his own wrestling time loop lmao.

Feel free to ignore my gushing but your posts have been making me think of him more :]

YES HAHA YES the reason i talk about him so much outside of like, special interest, IS because there's like three, four people on tumblr max speaking of his character and the storyline and actually exploring the meat of it instead of like............. hoping Big Samoan Daddy Wins Again so they can write self inserts or whatever. like i see so many people talk about punk with such passion and it's great and i'm also like look i know he's the big face of wwe and you don't care to see much of him but that's a shame bc what he and the rest of the bloodline have been doing is incredible, bar some missteps and longer lulls in the story. i agree that so much of his current character stems from a deep fear of rejection and a history of abandonment/betrayal from both other wrestlers and the audience itself, it's what makes him so tragic to watch and also so fascinating. like roman. buddy! by setting up such a horrifically abusive dynamic you're literally setting yourself up for people to leave you kicking and screaming, triggering the abandonment issues even more!

i know people have been complaining about his schedule in recent months (which imo stem more from like wwe management + irl stuff we're not privy too--it's important to remember that joe anoa'i's cancer isn't gone and it never will be, it's under constant management and he's mentioned having to switch treatments and their negative effects before) and tbh it has its issues, but i've enjoyed how...... pathetic he's been since jey left him. people have bitched about how diminished he feels, but i think it's 200% on purpose? after he wins matches now he doesn't walk around smugly like a final boss, he clings to his belt and goes to paul almost like a child seeking praise and reassurance. he cant win without solo and jimmy anymore but he doesn't like or trust them nor does he rely on them. he's terrified of solo and despises jimmy. currently the bloodline is in tatters, a shadow of its former self, and that's why it works!

the rock's inclusion, as much as i think it was a pivot, could be a real interesting way to mix things up after mania. for one i think that the only good decision rn is for roman to lose that damn title. he's been playing it this way for months now--the title feels like something he's clinging to, he has no control except for this! but it's interesting that during the press conference, the bloodline family tree named the rock as "high chief" which implies he's above roman in the hierarchy. and like. this is a toxic, shitty hierarchy! the twins were literally given to roman to do as he pleased bc he pulled rank on them, and this is unambiguously presented as something deeply abusive and a terrible state of affairs. the rock could do the same with roman!

so there are two things i'm hoping from roman post-mania, hopefully one or other other, or one after the other. this is assuming that he not only loses the titles, but that solo and rock tried to interfere only for roman's army of exes (now all cody's boyfriends) to get in there and stop that from happening.

the first thing i'd be interested in is roman sinking to whole new pathetic depths, to be stripped of what's left of his mystique until he's just a wounded mad king who cannot get over his kingdom being ash and dust. attacking others savagely (or pathetically failing to do so and being beaten the shit out of), others taking revenge after years of him dominating wwe in the same way the guys on raw tried to go after jey, and *especially* a potential feud with seth where the two are really at each other's throats, with seth confronting the monster he created and roman blaming him as the architect of his misfortunes, an easy target, something he can lash onto. i need him to lose that HARD and tragically. i need him to break and shatter to the point where the audience feels uncomfortable and even somewhat sad for him, same for seth.

the second thing i want to see is the rock pulling rank as high chief and roman, unconsciously or not, being relegated to the role jey used to be. rock proved in that conference he could do lowkey intimidating and more subtle acting that's not steeped in attitude era dramatics or flashiness, and wwe is playing on the idea that he and triple h are fighting for control behind the scenes in kayfabe. rock pushing roman out of the head of the table and roman slowly realizing what's happening as rock begins scolding and mocking him for not living up to what the family expect of him, progressively realizing he's going through what he put jey through (especially the manipulation and physical/mental abuse)--this would be a great way to eventually turn him face and build sympathy from the audience. it's gonna be HARD getting that sympathy, in part bc roman was such a charismatic heel and seeing him sink so low--it will def be harder to pull this off with him than with sami, the eternal underdog. but i think if they play it right they can have roman gradually realize the dynamics of the family are themselves hell, how much he contributed to it, and maybe others can reach out to him and try to tell him to get out. maybe even seth himself, or cody if he's still face, or sami. jey i'm hesitating on--i think it would work but only if he's yelling at roman to wake the fuck up and realize what this is at all. they would REALLY have to work for this, and it would take months if not a full year for it to actually be able to build to a face turn where roman would be *actually cheered*. i think it could work against the rock himself, now the authority over wwe, with roman having to make active amends with old enemies and gain forgiveness from people like jey and sami through active work. and it could inevitably lead to the roman/rock match they wanted so so bad. but i'd love a war games where roman isn't at the center, but has to learn to be part of an actual team and is struggling to not be at the center of the universe anymore. again this would be assuming wwe doesn't fuck it up and there aren't unplanned injuries or other plans. but to me it would be the most satisfying way to complete roman's arc--make him turn face *naturally*, and have him finally FINALLY receive the crowd's cheers and love after a lot of deserved work.