#Shawn drabble

[ovaryacted]

baby girl looking for pope (and reader) out in the crowd during some school event where she's on stage. she's searching so hard and almost starts crying until she finally sees pope being held back by reader because he saw the tears in his baby's eyes and needs to make sure she's okay.

then he turns back around to see her smiling and waving and so freaking happy that he's there. and yeah :)

─ Girl Dad! Pope Cody x fem! reader || WC: 735

CW: FLUFF. Pope being an emotional & dedicated dad. Daughter is graduating kindergarten & 5 years old. Daughter is unnamed. Daughter has Pope's hair, freckles, & eyes (carbon copy). Reader & Pope are married.

Aww, this is such a cute idea, please. Thank you for the little message Simone bae, thinking about Pope who's a little older now being such a dedicated dad makes me super emotional. I hope you like this little blurb. <3

The little girl is nervous, dark auburn curls pinned in a half-up half down hairstyle per her request. Her lavender dress flows down her small body, cutting off right at her knees in lace trim, a pair of fluffy socks and mary janes adorn on her feet. She remembers when she went on a shopping trip with her mom last week for this particular outfit, beaming the minute she grabbed it off the rack and threw it in the cart with dignified confidence.

It was the youngest Cody's kindergarten graduation, lined up on stage with several other kids for an award she doesn't fully understand she got. Her head turns over the crowd of people in the audience, trying her absolute hardest to find her parents amongst the sea of unfamiliar moving faces. Her brain works overtime to track down the head that shares the same hair as her, to see the familiar scowl that nobody other than her father wears.

She tries so hard, even squints as she tirelessly looks and looks and looks. To no avail, she hasn't seen the faces of her parents, of the people who came to this event with her, the people that would bring the moon and stars closer to Earth just so she could see them better. Before she realizes it, the corner of her eyes begin to sting as tears threaten to pour down her cheeks. She wrings her hands together, the anxiety bubbling in her body making her knees tremble as she swallows a cry, fully convinced her caregivers had disappeared into thin air and forgotten all about her.

She was close to wailing until she heard a familiar voice, the voice of her mother, warm and welcoming as it always was from the second she was born. The 5 year old's wet eyes gravitate towards the noise, finally spotting the face of her father who wore furrowed eyebrows and was halfway from rising from his seat.

"Andrew, you can't." You had one hand on his broad chest in a feeble attempt to calm him down. He only huffed a shaky breath, a growl settling in the back of his throat.

"She's crying up there. She can't see us." Pope mutters sharply, looking at you with worry in his eyes.

"She'll find us. She's a smart girl, she knows Andy. Trust her, okay?"

Andrew eases back down in his seat, focusing on trying to get his daughter's attention. He'd want nothing more than to bring his little miracle into his strong arms where she belongs, to wipe her tears away from her freckled face and tell her everything was going to be alright, that her father was here and had no plans of leaving her behind. But he knew the last thing he needed to do was lash out on such a special occasion.

He bounces his leg a few times, his knuckles turning white from gripping the armrest of his seat too tight, close to splitting the wood when his gaze is mirrored with his twin up on the stage, hazel meeting hazel.

In an instant, the little girl calms down, her frown flipping into a bright smile. Her round cheeks perk up at the sight of her parents at her first graduation, bringing her hand to swipe the remaining tears that ran down her face. She waves at her father then, and he waves back, the corner of his lips flexing upwards and nodding towards her, the love in his eyes consuming the remaining space in that room.

You reach down to squeeze Andrew's hand in reassurance, giving the calloused flesh an affectionate squeeze. His thumb runs over your wedding band, aimlessly playing with the gold as you both watch your baby girl walk the stage once her name was called, bursting in light shouts of claps of acknowledgement that got her attention and widened her toothy smile.

Andrew's eyes refuse to leave his daughter's face until she's sitting down with the rest of her classmates, exhaling in relief, antsy to hear his baby's voice again and hold her once more after all of this was done. But for now, he’ll sit and patiently wait until she’s running up to him, holding her certificate in her hands to show him. And he’ll shower her with all the praise she needs to remind her he’s here to stay, and his heart belongs to her.

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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[flofaiiry]

show me ; pope cody x reader

warnings: fem!reader, reader touches herself and pope watches (and talks her through it), use of vibrator, swearing

wc: 1.3k ... i got a little ahead of myself.

note: this idea has been floating around in my head for a while, and ever since i saw @erwinsvow 's blurb that was sort of along these lines last night... i just had to get this written down. + this is my second time ever writing smut so pls be nice!!! feedback is always appreciated :D

"what's this?" pope asks, holding a small vibrator in his hand like it's a foreign object. you quickly cross the room to him to grab it, your face heating up. he smirks & takes a step back "no, no..." he lowers his hand, "what is it?"

he knows damn well what it is. but he wants to hear you say it.

"it's a..." your voice trails off. "oh shut up, you know what it is." pope's smirk only grows, "nah, i don't think i do," he says, voice oozing with sarcasm. you huff, "it's a vibrator, andrew." you're currently cursing yourself for forgetting to get rid of it before he got back- in hopes of avoiding an exchange just like this one.

"and what would you do with this vibrator?" he asks, still sarcastic. he is loving this; you on the other hand... not quite. "what do you think i did with it? i used it to get off," you say plainly. "three years with no sex is not an easy feat, i'll have you know."

"so what would you do with it?" he says again. you scoff, "what, do you want me to show you?" you say, full sarcasm. you're hoping pope will pick up on that but he just stares at you. your scoff turns into a laugh somewhere along the way, "you cannot be serious." he doesn't say anything just raises his hand holding the toy and presents it to you.

"show me." he says, voice low.

you don't take it at first, your eyes locked with his. "andrew, i'm not going to-" you start.

"show. me." he says slowly, definitive this time.

your eyebrows shoot up. "seriously?" you say, voice embarrassingly high pitched. "you want me to, like, touch myself? and you just watch?" he nods slow. "i want you to show me how you'd get yourself off when i was gone." he tosses the small toy behind you onto the bed and moves his hands to the waistband of your pants, starting to undo them.

"but the whole point of you being here now is that i don't have to do that anymore." he doesn't answer, just works off your pants until they're in a pile at your ankles. "andrew," you start, but are cut off when he looks back up at you. those pretty hazel eyes practically boring into yours.

"please?" he asks, and suddenly you forgot how to argue. who are you to deny a man who says please so nicely?

you break your eyes away from his intense gaze to look down at the floor and sigh. you cant believe you're actually about to do this, but when andrew cody asks, you oblige.

"fine." you look up at him, "but after this- i'm getting rid of it." pope smirks, "we'll see about that." you shake your head through a laugh and turn to go sit down on the bed, searching for the toy among the sheets. you find it and hold it up. "you're sure you want me to do this?" you ask, while sitting back into the pillows and shuffling forward to lie down a bit.

he nods, "oh i'm sure." pope moves to sit at the foot of the bed, allowing him a perfect view of your body. you feel that warmth in your face again as his eyes rake over your body, greedily taking you in. you take a deep breath before hooking your fingers under the waist of your panties and pulling them down to sit at your knees. pope wordlessly leans forward and grabs them, pulling them the rest of the way off. he tosses them somewhere in the room before turning his attention back to you.

"so do you want me to like... i don't know, narrate? or just..." your voice trails off, "just start?" he shrugs. "do whatever you would do when i wasn't here." you take a deep breath, "okay then." you start slow. spreading your legs and tracing your hands down your body. one hand stops at your breasts to squeeze one through your shirt and the other trails down between your legs.

you find your clit quickly and start making slow circles around it. the sensation is familiar, but it doesn't stop the small gasp that escapes your lips. your other hand wanders its way under your shirt, rolling the now stiff nipple between your fingers. as the pleasure you're giving yourself grows, your hands only get faster, more reckless.

the circles on your clit are no longer lazy and slow, but fast and concentrated directly over the sensitive area. the pinch of your nipple is teetering right on the pleasure/pain threshold, but hasn't quite crossed that line yet.

your eyes have fallen shut in the midst of all this. you crack them open just enough to see andrew. he hasn't moved. not an even an inch. his eyes shamelessly dividing their attention on your fingers between your legs, and the hand snaked under your shirt palming your breast.

you've yet to make any noise, safe from your heavy breathing, and pope has noticed.

your eyes fall shut again, then you feel his hand. rough against your leg. "come on, baby. wanna hear you." he squeezes at your thigh, gently massaging the flesh there.

you open your eyes again, giving him a smile before the hand under your shirt moves to search for the vibrator on the bed. you find it, and close your hand around it, bringing it between your legs. you click the small button until you find the setting you like, and move to press it onto your clit. your back arches off the bed at the new sensation, a proper moan leaving your lips this time.

"there we go, good girl." pope praises as the sinful noises falling from your lips continue. your other hand travels down your body from your chest to join the other between your legs, toying near your entrance and feeling the slick that's quite literally dripping out of you at this point.

you slide one finger inside yourself and your eyes cinch shut at the sensation, head rolling back into the pillows. "fuck," you breathe, your finger now fully inside, curling to try and knock against the spot that feels extra good.

(you never hit it as well as pope does though, no matter how hard you try.)

you press the vibrator harder against your clit and slide another finger inside, moaning loud at the exponential increase in pleasure. "thaaat's it, keep going for me baby, make yourself feel good," pope says, voice low. with both hands working you towards orgasm and pope talking you through it, you're tumbling closer to the edge by the second.

"i'm close," you breathe, "so fucking close, andrew, please." you're practically squirming now, fingers pumping in and out of yourself while the vibrator is unrelenting against your clit.

"come on baby, cum for me," andrew encourages, "show me how good you can make yourself feel"

and with that, you're coming undone. back arching further, eyes closing tighter, fingers curling deeper as you barrel towards your climax. "fuck," you catch yourself with a gasp, "oh my god, oh. my. god." your hands don't stop as you ride out the high, breaths heavy and laboured as you slowly bring your movements to a stop.

you open your eyes to andrew smirking down at you. "feel good?" he asks, cocky.

you nod. "not as good as you though." you smile, moving to sit up.

"where do you think you're going?" pope says, scooting over closer to you on the bed, pressing you by your shoulder back down into the mattress. you smile, "i was going to go to the bathroom... but i have a feeling that's not going to happen."

he shakes his head, smirk growing on his face. he tucks your hair behind your ear before he moves to position his head between your legs.

"now's my turn. show you how good i can make you feel." his voice is low as he presses your legs apart.

it's going to be a very long night.

i hope you enjoyed!!! as always send me any thoughts / ideas / requests you may have :P

[greengoblinswifey]

Older Wrestlers Do It Better—Shawn Michaels x Fem!Reader

summary— After winning your first Women’s Championship, you finally meet your childhood crush, Shawn Michaels. Nervously flirting with him leads to an unforgettable night where he makes your win ever better.

warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, shawn is in his 50s), flirting, cunnilingus, praise kink, possessive!shawn, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

a/n— My first Shawn Michaels fic, hope you guys enjoy <3 Literally have had a crush on him for so long🤭

Winning the Women’s Championship was the most surreal moment of your life. Years of grinding in other promotions, building your name, perfecting your craft, it had all led to this. The cheers of the crowd, the weight of the gold on your shoulder, the rush of emotions hitting you all at once as you stepped backstage.

The second you crossed the curtain, a wave of congratulations hit you. Superstars, crew members, even higher ups, everyone was there, giving you pats on the back, words of praise. You tried to take it all in, your heart still hammering from the adrenaline, when you heard it.

A deep, gruff voice behind you.

“Congratulations, champ. I’m proud of you.”

You froze. That voice. That unmistakable, slightly raspy voice. Slowly, almost in disbelief, you turned around and your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

Shawn Michaels.

Your brain short circuited. For years, you’d admired him. Hell, if you were being honest, you’d been in love with him. Growing up, watching him on your TV screen, mesmerized by his presence, his talent, his everything. And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, looking at you like he actually knew who you were.

“Wow,” you blurted out, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathless. “Thank you.”

Shawn smirked at your obvious nerves, his arms crossing over his chest. “You earned it,” he said. “I’ve been watching you for a while now. I made sure they knew you were the real deal. You’re gonna carry this division better than anyone.”

Your heart nearly exploded. Shawn Michaels had been watching you? Shawn Michaels had put in a word for you?

“I—” You struggled to form words, your cheeks burning. “That means everything. I admire you so much, I love your work, I—” You cut yourself off before you started sounding like a crazy fangirl, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from rambling.

His smirk deepened, and before you could react, he pulled you into a hug.

Holy. Fuck.

Your face pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you, the scent of his cologne completely overwhelming your senses. Your brain refused to function, your hands awkwardly gripping onto the back of his shirt as your cheeks burned hotter than ever.

After a few moments, he pulled back, his hand squeezing your shoulder before dropping to his side. “Didn’t wanna take up too much of your time,” he said. “Enjoy your night, champ.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there like an absolute fool.

Later, after the chaos of the night settled, you were lounging with Rhea, Tiffany, and Liv in the locker room, all of them still hyped over your win.

“You killed it out there,” Rhea said, nudging you with a proud grin.

Tiffany nodded, flipping her hair. “And let’s be real, your skin looks so good with gold.”

“Thanks, guys. But guess who congratulated me? And—” You leaned in dramatically. “Was apparently partially responsible for my win?”

The girls exchanged curious looks. “Who?” Liv asked.

You took a breath for dramatic effect. “Shawn. Fucking. Michaels.”

The reaction was instant. Rhea’s eyes widened, Tiffany gasped, and Liv practically shrieked.

“Your crush?” Rhea said.

“The man you said you wanted to marry?” Tiffany added.

“Exactly,” you confirmed, still trying to process it yourself.

“And?” Liv pressed. “Did you keep your cool, or did you embarrass yourself?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Oh, I embarrassed myself. I was all nervous, blushing like an idiot, barely forming words. But he hugged me. I swear I almost passed out.”

“Okay, but what does this mean? Do you think he was flirting?” Tiffany laughed.

“God, I hope so,” you muttered before sighing dramatically. “I just want him so bad. He’s so fine. And you know I love older men. Like, I would give anything for him to fuck me hard. With eye contact, might I add. Older men just do it better—”

The sudden silence from the girls made your stomach drop.

You saw their eyes widen, their mouths slightly open, and the moment Rhea subtly nodded toward something behind you, you knew.

Slowly, dreading what you were about to see, you turned around.

And there he was.

Shawn Michaels.

Standing right behind you.

Smirking.

Your heart fell straight to the floor. You were so done. Absolutely finished. WWE was going to strip you of your title, fire you, and blacklist you from the industry.

Shawn crossed his arms, looking far too amused for your liking. “Whenever you’re free and ready to leave,” he said smoothly, “meet me in my dressing room.”

You nodded, entirely incapable of forming words.

He winked before walking off, leaving you frozen in place, your entire soul leaving your body.

The second he was out of earshot, the girls erupted into laughter, squealing and shaking you like you’d just won the lottery.

“You are so lucky,” Tiffany gasped, fanning herself.

Liv was practically in tears. “Oh my god, I thought you were gonna die on the spot.”

Rhea smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Well, champ, looks like your childhood crush just became your reality.”

Your brain was still catching up. Shawn Michaels had heard you. Shawn Michaels wanted you to meet him.

Holy. Shit. You were in for one hell of a night.

Shawn was waiting when you stepped into his dressing room, leaning back on the couch with that signature smirk.

“You took your time,” he teased.

Your heart pounded as you shut the door. “Trying to recover from the fact that you heard all of that.”

“Oh, I heard every word, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

You groaned, covering your face. “God, that was so embarrassing.”

He pried your hands away. “Nah, I liked what I heard.” His smirk deepened. “Older men do it better, huh?”

Your face burned. “Are you gonna keep bringing that up?”

“Maybe,” he said, tilting his head. “But I think I’d rather show you instead.”

Your breath hitched, and he leaned in, voice lower now. “Where you staying tonight?”

You told him your hotel, and he hummed in approval. “Same one. I’ll drive you.”

You texted the girls telling them you’d be with him. There would be a lot to talk about in the morning.

The car ride made you nervous. You stole glances at him, watching the way his muscles flexed as he gripped the wheel. He was even hotter in person. He looked just as good, hell, even better than he did on TV. The years had only added to his appeal, roughening his edges in the best way.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he said without taking his eyes off the road, “I might just have to pull over.”

You bit your lip. "Can’t help it. You’re kinda unreal."

His smirk grew. “Come to my room tonight. I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been craving.”

Your stomach flipped.

90s Shawn Michaels had been your first love. But Shawn now? Oh, you’d let him do anything to you.

When you arrived at the hotel, people stopped to congratulate you. You took pictures, smiling through the anticipation burning inside you.

The moment the elevator doors shut, his fingers brushed your wrist. “Last chance to back out.”

“Not a chance,” you murmured.

His hotel room door had barely shut before he turned you, pressing you against it. His hands beside your head, eyes dark as they met yours.

“This what you wanted?”

Your breath caught. “I’ve dreamt about this.”

His lips crashed onto yours, stealing any response you had left. His hands gripped under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as you wrapped around him. He carried you to the bed, sinking onto it with you in his lap.

You could feel him beneath you, hard and eager, as you rocked against him. His hands roamed, mapping every inch of you, his lips never leaving yours.

“Been wanting this for years, haven’t you?” he murmured against your lips, hands roaming your body.

You nodded breathlessly, gripping onto his shoulders for balance.

His smirk returned as he cupped your face. “You’re just as sweet as I imagined.”

His lips trailed down your cheek, to your neck, pressing soft kisses that left you shivering. He moved slowly, savoring, before laying you back against the bed, hovering over you. His eyes searched yours, expression softening slightly.

“This okay?” he asked, voice quieter now.

“I want this. I want you,” you nodded, already breathless.

He exhaled slowly, his thumb tracing your cheek. “Then let me take care of you.”

His hands found the hem of your blouse, fingers toying with the fabric as he waited for your permission. When you gave it, he lifted it over your head, his gaze roaming over you with something akin to awe.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your heart pounding as he leaned down again, pressing another kiss to your lips. He slipped you out of the rest of your clothes then pulled back, his eyes once again taking over you.

“Look at you, naked in front of me. Fucking perfect,” he said.

He knelt, making you gasp, trailing kisses until he reached your clit, spreading your legs and kissing further and further.

“You're soaked, sweetheart, so wet for me,” he murmured, using his tongue to collect your wetness and spitting it back onto your pussy.

A soft moan escaped your lips, you couldn't believe Shawn fucking Michaels was about to eat you out.

“I love those moans. Let me hear you.”

He dived in, flicking his tongue on your clit before bringing it down to your leaking hole and licking back up. His grip was firm but gentle on your thighs, spreading them wide as he continued. You couldn't believe the utter pleasure you were feeling, he was so skilled with his tongue having you squirm underneath him and moan so loudly, you feared the other wrestlers on the floor would hear.

“Oh, Shawn,” you cried, back arching off the bed.

Cocky Shawn hadn’t been lost due to the years. You could feel the smirk between your legs. “That’s it, sweetheart. Scream my name. I’m the one making you feel good.”

His tongue worked you over sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body as his blue eyes stared into yours. As his movements grew, the coil in your abdomen grew tighter, ready to burst.

“Cum on my tongue beautiful.” A loud moan left your lips and your body lifted from the bed, as he practically took your soul and you squirted onto his face, soaking him. He slurped you up like you were his last meal and you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“You're so beautiful when you cum. You taste amazing,” he panted.

You pulled him up into a kiss, his mouth soaked in your juices. His head moved down to your breasts, suckling and moaning as your fingers clawed his back.

Shawn’s eyes never left yours as he undressed, revealing his toned chest and arms. You smiled, your heart racing as you reached out to gently touch his chest, tracing the lines of muscle with your fingertips. “You’re so so hot,” you whispered.

He let out a soft laugh. “You’re the one who’s hot, sweetheart,” he said, his hands in through your curls, tugging you closer to him.

Your lips met his again, tender and slow, savoring the moment. You pressed yourself against him, feeling his hard cock, the heat of his body matching the desire building between you. His hands were gentle but firm as he guided you to the bed, settling you back gently.

Your gaze wandered and your eyes caught his very hard cock. He was so thick, the full package. Shawn always radiated big dick energy but to see it up close and personal—veins prominent, slight curve, long—it was no wonder he acted the way he did in the 90s. He had all reason to be that cocky bastard. He was perfect.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight and you took ahold of it, hand barely able to go around and angled it towards your mouth but he stopped you.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Tonight’s about you, about making sure you feel good.”

You nodded, heart fluttering as he hovered above you, his hands resting on either side of your head. His expression was soft, his eyes filled with nothing but admiration as he looked down at you.

He used the tip of his cock, dragging it along your wet folds as the sound of squelching filled the room. He teased you a bit more, until he slowly pushed inside, your mouth falling open as he thrusted into you. You moaned at the intrusion and looked down, only to see he was just half way in.

“Y-you’re so big,” you gasped.

“I know, but you can take it. This tight little pussy was made for my cock,” he whispered, leaning down to bite your ear lobe.

It felt like all the wind had been knocked from your lungs as he slid the rest of his length inside you. Tiny whimpers left your lips when he stilled, savoring how your walls began to welcome him in.

“See, you can take it baby, it’s okay.” He began rutting into you steadily, each time, you could feel the head of his cock brush against an area no man had ever come close to hitting before. He was so deep.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, rolling his hips to meet yours.

All you could do was moan, the overwhelming pleasure taking your ability to form coherent words.

“God, I love hearing your pretty moans,” he said, pushing your hair back.

You could barely hang on and “Shawn, cum,” was all you managed to say as you felt the pressure build up like a dam ready to burst.

“I can feel your pussy just sucking me in and gripping me. Go ahead sweetheart, cum for me, s’okay,” he cooed.

You cried out, wrapping your arms around him as he picked up his pace, the dam inside you bursting and your orgasm overtaking you. Your entire body shook and he pressed kisses on your damp forehead, slowly moving inside you to draw every last drop of cum from you.

Shawn had awaken that demon deep inside that you weren’t even aware was there. You needed more.

“I need more,” you moaned, voice shaky.

With that invitation, he increased the pace, thrusting harder and deeper. The headboard slapped against the wall under the pressure, the whole floor probably heard, your nails dug into his back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “That’s it sweetheart, scratch my back,” his gruff voice said.

You were lost in the rhythm, your breath quickening, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

He was pounding you hard and relentless, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. He pulled back slightly, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His voice was a low growl as he murmured against your mouth, “You’re all mine. Mine to fuck and use now.”

A shiver of excitement raced through you, and he continued, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m all yours, Shawn,” you moaned, the words flowing from your lips as if they were the only truth that mattered.

“Such a good girl.” With a gasp, your body responded to his words, pleasure washing over you in waves as you squirted, soaking him completely. Shawn groaned in response, his grip on you tightening as he felt the warmth of your release.

“That’s so hot baby, that turned you on huh,” he said, now chasing his own orgasm as your body lay shaking underneath him.

You were too fucked out to answer, each deep thrust making your pussy throb around him.

He smirked, that infamous cocky smirk, clearly proud of how he had you at his mercy. He switched his pace, slow and deep, driving you both wild. It was as though he was proving a point to you. Showing you exactly who was fucking you and how good it felt.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly for a moment, pulling him closer before releasing them, spreading wider to accommodate him. The shift allowed him to plunge deeper, each stroke igniting a raw, primal desire within you. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and you met his movements with your own, grinding against him as he filled you.

“Just like that,” you urged, your voice thick with passion. “Please cum inside me.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. You words sent him over the edge and with a deep, guttural moan, he bucked his hips inside you, his hot cum filling you to the brim. You moaned in satisfaction, his cock throbbing and practically breeding you from how much he came—triggered your own orgasm.

Your body jolted beneath him, shaking from the pure intensity as you both were on cloud nine together.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, fuck, I can’t get enough of this pussy. I’ve got you,” he groaned.

Your body was still buzzing, your mind hazy as you lay against the soft sheets. Shawn pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands tracing slow, soothing patterns along your bare skin.

“You were incredible,” he murmured, voice deep. “So perfect for me.”

“I think that title belongs to you,” you teased, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “I mean, I just won the Women’s Championship and spent the night with you, I’m lucky.”

Shawn chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, sweetheart, I’m the lucky one.” He kissed your forehead before slipping out of bed. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You watched him disappear into the bathroom, and moments later, he returned with a warm cloth, carefully tending to you with the kind of gentleness that made your heart swell.

“Didn’t have to do that,” you smiled.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply.

Once he was done, he climbed back into bed, pulling you close against his chest. His arms wrapped around you securely, his body warm and solid against yours.

“You’re everything I thought you’d be,” you admitted softly, tucking your head under his chin. “And somehow even better.”

He sighed contentedly, his fingers tracing over your back. “And you’re even more perfect than I imagined,” he whispered. “Strong, talented, and so damn beautiful. I knew you were special the second I saw you wrestle.”

You smiled tiredly as you nestled further into him. The day had been surreal, from standing champion in the ring to this—wrapped up in the arms of the man who had been your childhood crush, your inspiration, and now, something more.

As your eyes grew heavier, Shawn pressed a final kiss to your hair, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

“Sweet dreams, champ.”

And with that, you let sleep take you, still wrapped in the warmth of the best night of your life.

[riverbends]

https://www.tumblr.com/andrewcodymybeloved/781526766708719616/fuckin-wrong-baz-i-will-have-his-babies

omg ok hear me out…

Imagine overhearing this convo or having pope sadly tell you about it. Imagine having to try to cheer him up and convince him that you would have his children.

Like I would let my man breed me on the spot… but that’s just me

YES. it terrifies him to think that baz might be right—that andrew cody can only harm, never nurture.

he probably wouldn’t tell you about it though. too scared you might agree with baz. you’d have to be eavesdropping nearby and you’d bring it up later in your own home, maybe sitting down somewhere. i reckon the couch, late at night. he’s got some NatGeo documentary on and you watch quietly with him. you’ve got your feet in his lap, your ankles locked under his hands.

maybe you ask him if you can have his baby. you say it like you’re trying to borrow his shirt.

(nsfw-ish stuff below the cut)

he just turns his head and looks at you with that signature frown of his. the question makes his throat go dry so when he says “what?”, you can barely hear him.

“baby or no baby?”

still staring at you, mouth a little parted. he’s utterly perplexed while you wait for him to answer.

“i don’t understand,” he whispers. then blinks. you shrug and lightly nudge a foot into his thigh before his hands tighten over your ankles. he wants to know what the fuck you’re talking about.

“i want a baby,” you say, so simply. “whenever it suits you, of course.”

you watch him breathe. the light from the tv licks at his face. he lets eyes his fall to your childless stomach, and then to the floor. and then his attention is back on the documentary without a word. but you smile to yourself because you know his brain is probably trying to compute the possibility now and he has to figure out if you knew what baz said to him earlier. and how. and why on earth you would want such a thing from himself of all people.

when you’re in bed, he still doesn’t address it. he just summarises something he’s supposed to do with the boys tomorrow. asks you what time you’re finishing work so he can pick you up after collecting lena from school.

in the dark, he rests on his back while you nestle into his side. his heartbeat thumps steadily under your open palm.

“what did you mean?” he murmurs into your hair and you lift your head.

“jesus, you know what i meant,” you laugh.

when he doesn’t say anything, you’re getting up and straddling him. he lets you, of course. he always will. you just have to adjust your clothes before you can take him to the hilt. pleasure swallows him as you ride your way up. his hands are iron on your thighs.

you lean down, rolling your pelvis against his while he’s still inside, and you just tell him to keep going until it takes. he nods like he’s obeying an order. and then he’s got you on your back. he’s going for a home run. he does exactly as he was told and keeps going until he knows it takes.

…….guys you have to put me down like an animal or i fear i will never stop WTF

[criminalamnesia]

part 3 of this!!

also sorry guys please don’t hate me (im planning on writing an alternate version where reader lives!!)

it seems like things are finally starting to slow down. it’s been 10 minutes since the last red came in, and jack has been able to focus on the pinks and yellows.

it’s really starting to catch up to him now, as things de-escalate. the pain from his prosthesis, the dizziness from the blood drawing, and the confusion on where you were.

you had missed the whole thing. he wished you had been there— not because he wanted you to witness what happens in the wake of a mass tragedy, but because you were a comfort. a light in his darkness, a calming breeze on a summer morning.

but he’s relieved that your absence most likely means that you slept through the whole thing, which is a blessing in itself. the two of you were alike in that way— struggling with sleep.

jack would get home from a twelve hour night shift, adrenaline still coursing through his veins from close calls, his mind digging its claws into memories he wished he would forget. blood. battles. the dead. the ones he lost, the ones he couldn’t save— both on and off the battlefield.

he gave up on sleep a long time ago. he bought a police scanner, for christ’s sake. anything to keep his mind racing a mile a minute so he wouldn’t have to stop and really think.

you were different. you didn’t have memories of blown-off limbs or screaming men, but sleep still evaded you. you hadn’t told him why yet— this thing between the two of you was still so new. you fully hadn’t let your guard down yet, and he hadn’t either. and he didn’t push.

he wanted you to be sure about him. he didn’t think he could go through the heartbreak of losing a partner again. he especially didn’t think he could endure the pain of losing you.

“brother, you got a minute?” it’s robby breaking him from his stupor.

jack looks up from the patient he’s examined and nods, a frown tilting the corners of his lips down when he sees robby’s face.

jack knew he had his own demons— just like he did, just like you did. but god, he had never seen the man look so defeated.

“what’s up?” jack asks, following robby as he leads him toward the viewing room.

robby doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at until he closes the door to the viewing room behind them, and even then, it takes him a moment to lift his gaze from the floor.

“brother, what happened?” jack is asking, brows furrowed. “is it jake? is he alright?”

“kid’s fine,” robby replies, his arms crossing over his chest. jack doesn’t miss how his knuckles grow white as he digs his fingers into his forearms. “his girlfriend is, too. they’ll both make it.”

jack nods. “that’s good— glad to hear it.”

the room falls silent. tension emanates from robby, coming off of him in waves. jack shifts his weight onto his good foot, masking a wince at the pain.

“you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we just gonna stand here? you’re weirding me out, man,” jack says, trying to lighten the mood, but robby’s expression doesn’t falter.

he takes a breath, lets it out, and meets jack’s eyes.

“it’s about y/n.”

“what about her?” jack is quick to ask. did you slip in during the chaos, and he just didn’t see you? did you call dana back?

“she…” robby starts, but falters, and jack loves him like a brother but so help him he wants to strangle the man right now.

“she’s dead.”

the words don’t register at first. it takes a minute for them to sink in, and even then, jack doesn’t understand.

“what?” he says, subconsciously shaking his head, as if disagreeing with robby’s prognosis. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“she was at the festival,” robby tells him, his words full of unspoken emotion. “she…she got shot. came in as a red.”

the room falls silent again. jack is still shaking his head. he takes a step forward, a hand waving in front of him as he speaks. “what the fuck do you mean? she never said anything— she was going home. she said she was going home.”

“I don’t know,” robby says. “I just— she came in. ellis brought her in. I—”

“ellis?”

it dawns on him then. ellis had called out for robby, obviously distressed. robby had gone over there, and that was the patient he’d tried so hard to save.

the one that jack had given him grief for.

“way past trauma protocol over there, brother.”

his words ring back to him.

“we use blood on the ones we can save.”

the army of nurses and doctors surrounding that patient. the gasps. the sobs. samira crying, dana leading her away.

it all makes sense, but it shouldn’t.

“brother,” robby is saying, and he’s breaking down. his voice cracks, tears are in his eyes, and he moves like he’s reaching for jack but thinks better of it at the last second. “I am so, so fucking sorry.”

jack doesn’t react for a moment. and then he’s suddenly surging forward, a finger in robby’s chest as he pushes his friend a step back.

“that was her? that fucking red?!” he’s starting to yell. robby doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“you fucking—” jacks reaches out and shoves him, sending the other attending stumbling back a few paces. “you fucking knew it was her! and you didn’t—”

“I didn’t have a choice!” robby interrupts, and jack gives a mirthless laugh.

“bullshit! that’s bullshit, robby! why didn’t you— why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped her— could’ve saved her!”

robby is the one shaking his head now. “no, brother, you couldn’t have.”

“I could’ve tried!”

he’s breathing heavy, his mind racing. memories of you, flashing before his eyes. his last conversation with you, just this fucking morning, as he had stolen a kiss from you before saying goodbye.

“I could’ve fucking tried, man!” and he’s breaking down now, his anger bleeding into defeat. into sadness and regret. “I could’ve tried! I could’ve— could’ve said something! Done something— I don’t know!”

robby’s cheeks glisten as the fluorescents catch his fallen tears. he’s still gripping his forearms, his gaze back on the ground when he speaks again.

“she didn’t want me to tell you.” his voice is barely a whisper.

“what?”

“she didn’t want me to tell you.” he repeats a little louder this time, and jack scoffs.

“she said we needed you,” robby pauses. “and she was right. we could not have saved as many people tonight without you, jack.”

jack’s eyes roll up to the ceiling, staring into the bright lights above as everything sinks in. his hands come up to run through his unruly curls, and he finds them shaking. he doesn’t understand. how could this happen— how could this be true? you were fine. you had gone home. you told him you’d see him tomorrow.

(later, he would come to realize that you were right. you had done the honorable thing, the selfless thing, and prioritized a hundred other lives over your own. he would have done the same thing— had tried to during his service.)

“but she…” he trails off. he looks back at robby. “is she with the others?”

robby nods. jack takes a deep breath. “I need to see her.”

he doesn’t say anything else. just turns around, opens the door, and walks out. no one tries to speak to him as he makes his way through the department. in his peripheral, he can see others staring at him. see others holding each other. hear muffled sobs and hushed condolences.

he stops in front of the door to the peds room, looking in through the window. multiple gurneys fill the room, all holding the body someone’s loved one. sheets are pulled over each one, most with blood staining them. he doesn’t know which one is yours. he doesn’t know if that makes this worse.

he steps inside, letting the door click shut behind him. it is just him and the dead, like so many times before. it never gets easier, and he was never naive enough to think it would.

but he had been naive enough to forget that you were human, too.

he approaches the gurney closest to the door, his hands slightly shaking as he reaches for the edge of the sheet. he pulls it back enough to see the face. it’s not you.

the next one isn’t you, either. or the next, or the next. out of the six gurneys in the room, yours is the one furthest from the door. perhaps robby had put you there on purpose— trying to further shield you from prying eyes. trying to hide you away in the back corner (even though a blanket obscured your body) incase jack happened to glance through the window during the madness.

he pulls the sheet back and instantly deflates. there is no denying that this is you. cold, pale, lifeless. no grin or smirk adorning your lips. no playful or serious glint in your eyes.

dead. you are dead. you are gone, and you are not coming back.

he lets out a shaky breath, his hands resting on either side of your head, holding him up as he sags over the bed. his head hangs low, his eyes squeezed shut. he wishes this was not reality. he wishes this was some fucked up dream.

it is not. when he opens his eyes, you will still be dead, and he will still be angry and lost and sad.

angry with himself for waiting so long to start something with you.

lost because you had helped pull him out of his darkness.

sad because he would never get to know you deeper, never get to explore things with you. never tell you he loves you and have you say it back. never hold your hand over dinner, or invite you to move in with him.

so many nevers.

he straightens up and sighs, hands reaching up to wipe away stray tears. he looks down at you and frowns. you had so much left to do. you would’ve been the best damn doctor this hospital had ever seen. definitely would’ve given him a run for his money.

“im sorry, beautiful,” he murmurs. he bends down, brushing his lips against the cold skin of your forehead.

“should’ve said this sooner, but…”

he lifts the sheet back over your head.

“I love you.”

he takes a week of leave, only because gloria mandates it.

he finds himself on the roof of the hospital for each of those seven nights, looking out over the city as he has so many times before. it’s different now.

your loss weighs heavy over him. he does not know how to cope with this— how to deal with losing something he never really had.

his therapist helps a little. keeping busy does, too. but the ache of your loss still lingers, and he doubts it will ever fully go away.

it’s something he’ll learn to live with, just like the loss of his first wife, and just like the loss of so many friends during his service. he will make room for you. he will remember you. he will mourn you and what could’ve been.

and he will keep going, because if he stops, he will join you.

“feels like you get a little closer to the edge every time I find you up here.”

robby. jack hears the crunch of gravel under the other man’s shoes, but he doesn’t turn around. it’s night six of his seven day leave— and he’s itching to be back in the ED.

“still haven’t jumped, though.”

“always a bright side.”

the words are intended to lighten the mood, but they do not.

jack feels, rather than sees, robby slip under the guard railing and sidle up beside him. the two don’t speak for a moment. sirens blare below. lights flash in the distance. the sun will rise soon.

“you sure you don’t need more time off?” robby asks, his voice rough as if dragged through the dirt. he doesn’t look much better off, with dark circles under his eyes and cuts in the crescent shapes of fingernails lining his forearms.

“give me more time off and next time you find me up here, I’ll be jumping.”

robby huffs a laugh, but there’s no real humor behind it. “as long as it’s not on my shift.”

a beat of silence. “seriously, man. whatever you need. im here for you.”

jack nods. he knows. the pair haven’t spoken much since the day of pitt fest, and truthfully, jack doesn’t know how to look him right now. he doesn’t hate him, but there’s a part of him that hates what he did. that he kept your arrival a secret, that he failed to save you.

but it isn’t robby’s fault. he tried. jack knows that.

but sadness and anger are devious, and sometimes he doesn’t quite trust himself to know what’s right.

“just need to get back to work. I can’t— I can’t sit still. can’t sleep, can’t think. it’s too much.”

robby doesn’t respond. jack takes a breath before starting again.

“my therapist says i should take some more time, but i can’t. I need to do something. need to be useful to someone. she says it’s deflecting— I know it is. I know.”

another breath.

“but it’s what I need. if I spend one more day in my apartment, im going to go fucking crazy.”

“thank god you’ll be back tomorrow night,” robby says. jack nods.

“can’t have you going crazy. we need you, brother.” robby places a hand on jack’s shoulder. the words hurt.

everything hurts. everything always hurts. the pain dulls, but never dissipates.

but the people here— they make it better. they help him through. the patients. the nurses. the residents. the doctors.

robby.

jack nods. he doesn’t know what to say, but he hopes that robby knows that he isn’t angry at him. that he doesn’t blame him for what happened to you.

he just hopes that robby isn’t angry at himself.

“better get going before gloria finds out im on hospital grounds,” jack grumbles, and robby nods, his hand sliding from the other man’s shoulder.

the pair slip back under the railing, falling into step as they make their way to the stairs.

“see you tonight, brother,” robby says as the pair reach the ED. jack nods.

“see you tonight.”

and as he walks toward the waiting room, he sees that a plaque has been added to the “frontline heroes” wall. he stops, and his eyes meet yours as he stares at the photo of you.

his lips quirk up in a half-hearted smile, and now he knows why he still comes back to this place. why he’ll keep coming back.

for you.

[16ferrari]

I want you to touch me there

jack abbot x fem!reader

Summary: in which you’re very horny for jack.

Warnings: oral (fem! receiving), marking, breast play. Petnames. Maybe some unedited errors.

A/n I’ve looked at this for so long and can’t decide if i hate or love it?

A trail of steam followed you as you opened the shower door. lifting a leg to step over the paddle of water, you grabbed your pink silk robe, hugging it around your body. you blew onto your hand before lifting it to wipe the fog away from the mirror. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw a desperate and needy face, desperate and needy for jack.

You turned away from the mirror and stepped out the bathroom, Your body grew chills as you stepped into yours and jacks shared bedroom. You wandered over to your dresser and pulled out a matching pair of lingerie along with one of jack’s basic t-shirt.

You hummed a tone as you walked around the room to distract your mind from the previous growing thoughts you were having of jack in the shower. Your feet dancing softly to the tone. You dropped your robe and put on the matching panties and bra, next you walked over to your shelf where you kept your lotions and perfumes, you grabbed your favorites. Filing the palm of your hand with the lotion just enough to rub all over all your body.

Once you were fully lotiond and perfumed up. You threw jacks t-shirt over your head, and pulled the shirt down to were it met your knees. You grabbed the neckline to the shirt and took a deep inhale, it smelt just like jack. You let down your damp hair, fluffing it up, before finally moving your way down the stairs.

The old wood the house was made out of creaked beneath you as you made your way downstairs. You took a peek into the living room and saw that Jack wasn’t in there, you pouted your lips, tilting your head confused as he was usually in there, feet up on the coffee table, a beer in hand while a tv show played on the screen that you knew he wasn’t paying attention to, but he just put on to distract his mind.

You heard a noise from the kitchen followed by a groan. You smiled, feet skipping over to the kitchen. There he stood, taller than the counter making him lean down to finish cutting up the vegetables he was chopping.

“Oh, hey honey” jack smiled softly at the sight of you making your way into the kitchen, hands held behind your back as you inspected what he was doing.

You walked over to him, wrapped your arms behind him and tugged him towards you. You placed kisses to his back, biting gently on the skin hidden behind his white tee. “Hi” you simply said, hands disappearing from around his waist to underneath his shirt, your hands ran all over his hardened abs that he kept a secret and only exposed them to you.

“Huh, What’s this now?” Jack dropped the knife and turned around so he could face you. He place a gentle hand on your face, while the other one held onto your waist thumb drawing invisible circles.

You shrugged, a cheeky smirk gleaming on your face. “Don’t know, just missed you’’ you leaned more into him, hands grabbing the counter behind him. He leaned forward and connected your lips together, it was just meant to be a brush of the lips, so he tried to pull away. But you were fast and grabbed the back of his head pulling him more into the kiss, you craved and wanted something deeper than just that.

And immediately Jack understood that.

You moaned into the kiss feeling his hand glide up your thigh, tugging up your (his) shirt to wrap around your waist. His fingertips danced around the seams of your panties. “Was planning on surprising you with dinner, sweetheart. What’s gotten into you” he placed kisses on your cheek down to your neck, his teeth nipping at the cleaned skin. Your head fell backwards, making him catch it with his hand.

“Was thinking about you in the shower” you admitted boldly, “was thinking about, hmm” his free hand came up to palm your breast through your shirt. “Thinking about your cock and hands” he stopped everything and grabbed onto your chin to make you meet his eyes.

“My hands, huh?, my naughty girl” he lightly tapped your cheek with his thumb, before turning around to push the cutting board and knifes to the side, he then picked you up and laid you down on the hard surface. He said no words, as he opened up your legs and tugged your panties down to the floor. He got on his knees and started licking at your cunt, his tongue leaped at your hole burying himself deeper into your wet cunt.

“Hmm, fuck jack” you grabbed at his gray curly locks, “like that please” your back arched off the counter, making him place his arm around your waist to hold you down. A porngraphic moan like left your lips as he pushed two fingers into your hole while his tongue locked up around your clit, sucking and pulling at the bub.

He stayed like that for a while, dinner long forgotten and instead his mouth was filled with the wetness that your cunt formed and dripped down his beard. “Taste incredible” he muttered, titled his head at a different angle to really soak up your cunt. “Always thinking about me” his fingers made a V as he spread open your pussy lips to push his tongue deeper into your cunt.

your legs shook around his head, stomach tightening up so badly it almost hurt you. “Jack, fuck, I’m close, please” he continued fingering your cunt bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Yeah” the vibrations from his voice sent you to the edge, you came hard with a loud moan and an arching back. “That’s ittt, honey” his fingers didn’t leave your cunt, instead he continued fucking you through your orgasm. His free hand came up to lift your shirt up to reveal your black bra which he pushed down to pull your breast free.

Without his fingers leaving the inside of you, his tall frame hovered above you, mouthing at your exposed chest, sucking and biting everything around your breasts, before his teeth finally latched on to the nipple area. He bit and pulled hard at the breast, a hmm sound leaving his lips, enjoying the taste of your vanilla lotion on his tongue.

your hips backed up into him, another orgasm approaching hard and fast. “Jack, am close please” your vision went white as you came again, a silence scream falling from your lips. Jack pulled his fingers from your cunt, licking them up, swallowing the taste of you. ]

“Fuck that’s hot” you muttered under your breath, cunt pulsating at the sight of him doing that.

Jack chuckled, “want me to fulfill more of your little dream you had of me in the shower” he said, in his head he already knew the answer, which is why he waited for no answer and just unzipped his pants, pulling his hardened cock out.

Immediately you opened your legs wider apart and pulled him in closer, his cock laid atop of your cunt hand stroking and rubbing the head against your already wet cunt. “Is that a yes?” He pushed the head of his cock in slowly, in a teasing matter.

Your feet wrapped around his back to pull him forward. “Jack, just fuck me please’’

“Alright, naughty girl”

[halfway-happyyy]

a concept:

being the designated driver for your friends, and the night is (mostly) going great until one of them takes a nasty spill off of a curb and opens a one-inch gash on their knee. there's a lot of commotion about what to do, with the victim being vehemently against going to the hospital. but really - you're not exactly a wizard with a needle and thread, so your options are limited. in the end, you end up heading to PTMC because it's the closest.

your arrival is followed by a couple of uneventful hours in the waiting room - (non-life threatening wounds don't exactly make top priority) and when you're eventually taken back to be seen, it's just gone two o'clock in the morning.

hospitals are unfamiliar territory to you, so when a doctor appears to check on your friend, you're not expecting him to be so... sexy. its the only word you can think of to describe him. you're not sure if it's the scrubs, or the salt and pepper in his hair, or the delicate creases next to his eyes that speak novels about how much time he spends smiling - but there's something about him that makes your breath hitch.

"good morning, you two. I'm doctor jack abbot. how are we faring so far this morning?"

dear lord, he is hot.

"god, he's hot."

your friend leans in to whisper it to you, but in their drunken haze, it comes out at full volume and all you can do is laugh because they're certainly not wrong, and soon the doctor is laughing right along with you.

"do you think he's single?"

a flush takes to your cheeks as you lean in to shush them, which only makes the doctor laugh harder.

"had one too many wobbly pops?" he murmurs before leaning forward to inspect the sutchered wound.

"yeah," you sigh. "how can you tell?"

"lucky guess," he grins. "i take it you were the lucky designated driver tonight?"

his eye contact feels genuine and intense - and did the hospital just get a couple of degrees warmer, or was it just you?

you shrug. "someone's gotta do it, right?"

he smiles softly at that, and your heart skips a beat.

"alright, kid," he sighs and stands from his position. "you're all fixed up. take good care of it, keep it clean, and come back in about a week, and we'll take the stitches out for ya."

just when you think the worst of it is over, your friend leans over and asks in a very loud whisper if they can have his phone number.

jack drops his head and gives it a small shake, and when he glances back up at them, his hazel eyes are glittering brightly under the harsh hospital fluorescents.

"i'll tell ya what," he pulls out a pad of paper and a pen and scribbles something down before ripping it and passing it to you. "here's my number. i'm going to give it to your friend so that she can keep it safe, and then she can pass it on to you when you're feeling a bit better. how does that sound?"

your friend grins and offers him a double thumbs-up, which makes him laugh.

"thank you for everything, doctor abbot."

"someone's gotta do it, right?" he shrugs, his words echoing yours from before, and the silence that settles between you feels anything but uncomfortable. he moves to leave, but then turns back as if remembering something.

"was nice meeting you this morning."

he's gone before you can say anything back, and the small piece of paper he passed you feels as though it's searing a whole in the palm of your hand.

[museaux]

Solace - Andrew "Pope" Cody x Reader

wc: 841

warnings: (family) trauma, feelings of worthlessness

banner: cafekitsune

an: i’m at the end of s3 and can’t stop thinking about him lol. also, this is my first time writing for pope + a non anime fandom in quite a while so pls read with an open mind LMAO

Constantly playing second fiddle in every aspect of your life will make a weary soul out of anyone. Andrew, one of these second fiddles, was a deeply troubled soul who quietly longed to be first—even for just a moment. Though he longed for it, he felt undeserving of being a priority. His standing as a second thought, family muscle or the occasional nuisance served as a reminder of all his missteps—his punishment for existing under the thumb of the pain and legacy that came with the Cody name.

Unlike his brothers, and contrary to his cousin’s assumed position from the outside, Andrew saw himself as little more than a glorified errand boy. And whenever Smurf was involved directly, he was a lapdog, ready to follow her every command. That’s why, after he sat up in bed waiting for his alarm clock to chime at 6 a.m., he took a moment for himself; built a quiet ritual that placed him in the coffee shop not too far from his home every morning. He liked to sit in the corner of the shop, where for just 10 minutes, he was the only customer. Not a Cody. Not Pope. He didn’t have to worry about any familial hierarchy or job. In those moments, he was just a man with no responsibilities or identity beyond his coffee order. Every Tuesday and Thursday, these quiet mornings were especially cherished as there was one beautifully kind barista who would greet him with a warm smile and sometimes, a pastry on the house.

Six months ago, that woman wrote her number on the plastic container that encased a breakfast croissant. Since then, the two have been seeing each other. He didn’t really know how it started, only that he found himself back at the shop one Friday night at the end of her closing shift, listening intently as she told him the story behind her first tattoo. Sitting under the dim light with her that night felt different. Made him feel normal, like someone actually wanted to know and be known by him. Like he wasn’t scaring anyone away by simply existing in proximity to them.

What he felt in her presence that night kept bringing him back to the shop every other Friday at closing time as he listened to her talk about her life, offering up bits and pieces of himself as well every now and again. Tonight, he had found himself at her apartment, lost in her scent with his head on her chest as she stroked his arm and massaged his scalp. Under his cheek, her mocha-colored skin was as soft as a cloud, and though delicate, able to hold him in her bosom with ease. The sensation of her acrylics tracing up and down his arm was just enough sensation to keep him grounded in the moment (and not in his head).

“You know, you’ve never brought up your family. In all the time we’ve known each other, you’ve heard all about mine. What’s yours like?” Her smooth voice gently broke the silence between them. Listening to her was like hot fudge melting over a cold, perfectly formed scoop of ice cream—it was addictive. Sweet. He was quiet for a moment before answering. “There’s not much to tell. They’re…dysfunctional at best. I love them but… I—well. It doesn’t matter.” By this time, his eyes had closed. He was allowing himself to sink into the still unfamiliar sensation of safety and relaxation her closeness inspired. In her arms, he wasn’t a Cody or Pope, or anything else. Just Andrew. He wanted to hold onto this version of himself as long as he could, uninterrupted.

“It absolutely matters, Andrew,” she said softly. “Have you told them about me?” Her question hung in the air for a moment as he took a deep breath. “No,” he frowned. “Th-they tend to... ruin nice things. What we have is just for us. I’d rather not taint it with my family. You’re good, and for some reason, you chose me. They wouldn’t rest until they took that from me.” A single tear fell from Andrew’s eye and onto her chest as he spoke.“I’m sorry, Andrew,” she whispered. “We don’t have to talk about them.”

He lifted his head to meet her gaze. “You don’t have to apologize, y/n. They’re a lot to deal with. But when I’m with you, I don’t think about them. That’s a good thing…” he paused. “They don’t exist when I’m with you.” his eyes glossed over as he took in her expression. “Even when we’re just sitting in silence, it feels like I’m existing without expectation—for the first time ever.” A soft smile spread across y/n’s full lips as she leaned in to kiss his trembling lips. “Then let’s just sit,” she said. At her kiss and her words, Andrew found himself smiling—really smiling. His head returned to her chest, where he gave a soft kiss as they listened to the rhythm of each other’s breath for the rest of the night.

[problemduetest4life]

Jean Moreau/Shawn Anderson One-shot

I was bored so here's less than a 1,000 words for these goofballs I wrote for a warmup, set in @kevinsdsy 's Trojan's social media AU

“No, it’s crazy that they would think this is a date,” Shawn said, playing the straw of his drink. “Like us? Going on a date? Wild assumption.”

“Yes,” Jean agreed. “That would not be my first thought.”

“That’s what I’m saying! But if Derek and Jeremy are thinking that we’re going out then they must be thinking about us in that way, right?”

“In what way?” Jean asked, confused.

“In a romantic way, like we’re people who could potentially go out on dates.”

“But this isn’t a date,” Jean clarified. “We’re not people who go out on dates, then. They are wrong.”

“Damn.” Shawn rested his foreword on the table. “Way to crush my hopes and dreams.”

Jean hummed in response, taking a sip of his coffee. He was well used to Shawn dramatics by now.

“But it could be a date,” Shawn said suddenly, a flicker in his eyes.

“What?” Jean asked.

“Jean Moreau, would you like to go out with me?” Shawn asked theatrically, jumping to his feet and holding out his hand. Jean was utterly lost though somewhat amused. That was why he liked hanging out with Shawn after all.

“Very funny, Shawn,” he said, not moving from his seat. Shawn took both Jean’s hands in his.

“Do you want me to get down on one knee? I’ll propose. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.”

Jean raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Why do you want to anyways? Just to prove you’re ‘dateable’?”

“No!” Shawn said in false offense. He plopped back into his seat. “It wouldn’t matter anyways. No one’s asking me out.”

“Fine,” Jean said. “I will go on one date with you.”

“Yes! Everyone’s been saying we should get together. It’s just meant to be!”

“Everyone?” Jean asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Well, no. Mainly just Jeremy but...”

Jeremy, Jean thought. There was slightly cinching in the muscles of his chest but he brushed it off.

Somehow, they ended back in the apartment watching some silly movie Shawn had picked out. It wasn’t unlike everything other time they had hung out, but Jean could see Shawn tweeting something that was likely going to get at least one of them in trouble.

They were crowded together on the couch. With of their heights and builds it was always a tight fit, a jumble of long limbs and rearranged pillows. Shawn’s hair kept ticking Jean’s nose as the other man lay back against his chest. Jean pulled up his hood to cover it.

“What’re you doing,” Shawn murmured sleepily.

“Fixing your hair. It’s going to make me sneeze,” Jean complained.

“What?” Shawn twisted around to look up at him. Jean was about to repeat himself along with another snarky comment when he saw Shawn’s eyes widen. Their faces were inches apart and Jean was suddenly very aware of how close their bodies were. It usual for them to be physically close with one another and this was mock date after all, right? He swallowed sharply. Shawn blinked slowly, his eyes lashes were blonde and so Jean hadn’t noticed how long they were until now.

Just as he was about to pull away Shawn asked, “are we doing this?”

Jean nodded and met him halfway for a kiss. Shawn’s lips were chapped but they were warm and inviting, nonetheless. He sunk lower into the couch, parting his legs further so Shawn could comfortably lay between them. It felt oddly familiar, Shawn’s callused hands slipping under his shirt to clutch at his torso, pulling him deeper into the kisses. Jean felt safe between the quilt covered couch and his friend above him. He slipped his tongue into Shawn’s mouth.

“So that’s why it’s called French kissing,” Shawn laughed.

“Shut up,” Jean said, “and don’t you dare tweet that later.” He looped a finger in the collar of his shirt and pulling him into another kiss.

They stayed like that for a while. The only sounds were of the creaking couch and their breathing, caught up in one another’s movements. Jean pushed off Shawn’s hood to run his hands through his hair, giving it the slightest of tugs. Shawn made a hitching noise, muffled by Jean’s mouth.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash from the action on the TV, startling them both. Their teeth clicked slightly, and Shawn pulled back, hoisting himself up with one hand on Jean’s chest.

“Jean,” Shawn breathed. Jean sat up, sensing the moment was over. “I’m down bad for Derek.”

Shawn looked at Jean expectantly. Jean shrugged. “That’s good. According to his tweets, I would say he feels the same.”

“Well, sure,” Shawn. “But you don’t have anything to admit? About Jeremy?”

Jean looked away. Shawn sighed and settled back down against his chest. “We’re hopeless romantics the two of us.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I’m going to post that the rumors are true and you punched me in the face,” Shawn grumbled. “Also, that you’ve recruited the freshmen into satanic rituals.”

“Those are lies. I can just tell the truth that you’re secretly a chronic overthinker,” Jean said before squinting at the TV screen. “And you have a kink for making out during Cars 2.

“I don’t know if I should be proud of my influence or disturbed that you’re using it against me,” Shawn said before yawning. He fell asleep shortly after, his phone left unlocked beside him. Jean picked it up, considering what chaos he could bring with full access to Shawn’s twitter account.

[1nhal3r]

"Can I kiss you?" Vincent whispers, and Shawn's eyes glance down to his lips and then back up to Vincent's eyes. He gnaws on his bottom lip, not quite meeting Vincent's gaze when he shrugs. Vincent grins, his body thrumming with electricity, feeling like a live wire. "Thank you," he says quietly, leaning down to gently press his lips on Shawn's. Already, Vincent thinks hazily, it's over for him.

[ovaryacted]

wanna sit in his lap and run my fingers through his hair while he peers up at me and asks for a kiss... and then give him a kiss and a whole lot moreee

─ Jack Abbot x fem reader || WC: 1.0k

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Established relationship. Age gap implied. References to previous smut. Kisses. Jack's graying hair & old man features. Jack calling himself an old man. (If there’s typos I’m sorry my laptop is being stupid.)

Oh god me too. Honestly, I need it now more than ever. Just imagine it:

Your legs bracket Jack’s as you sit in his lap, laying on top of him and pressing your body into his. It was a slow day for the both of you, consisting of rolling around in bed and catching up on the new episodes of that show you liked so much. He’ll never admit to enjoying trashy reality tv as much as he does, but you can tell Jack likes turning his brain off to watch people take jabs on others for the hell of it.

You both moved to the couch later in the day after a late breakfast, straddling him while Jack kept his hands on your lower spine, enjoying the feel of your body weight against him while he played with the edge of your shorts that rose higher up your thighs with the slight arch of your back. With one hand, you busied yourself with caressing up and down his chest, touching his shoulders over the black t-shirt he wore, messing with the collar of his shirt to count the freckles dotting his skin.

Jack kept his eyes over your shoulder watching the TV screen, happy to just keep you in close proximity while you mapped up all of his noticeable features. He could feel the way you lightly stroked over every small piece of him that caught your eye, letting you follow the lines that streaked on the corner of his eyes and the ones on his neck, doing everything in his power not to jerk or twitch away when you hit a ticklish spot. His attention on the TV falters when your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching his scalp in a way that had his eyes closing and rolling into the back of his head.

You haven’t bothered to tell him to get a haircut, and he didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon, not with the way you always touched the graying strands when he was near you, or how you yanked on the curls when you were overwhelmed with the pleasure he’d give you.

You coil a digit around your favorite curl, the one closest to his forehead that has the slightest hint of copper when the color has long disappeared from the rest of his head. Jack watches you wind the strand around your finger, releasing it a couple of seconds later as it recoils on itself and springs back in place, lips curling up at the action.

His gaze softens when you finally look at him, the sides of his face crinkling with the lopsided grin he gives you, mellow and familiar as he’s always been.

“Having fun?” he asks with a squeeze of your hips.

“Using your hair like a slinky has always been fun for me,” you replied, curling another strand as you spoke. “If you ever cut your hair, we will have a very serious problem. You hear me?” The playful threat doesn’t land, but Jack’s smile widens. You’ve already seen the pictures of his buzzcut when he was in the military years ago, and your reaction was sign enough to never get that hairstyle again.

“Yes ma'am,” he dryly chuckles at the roll of your eyes, staring at the side of your face before glancing at your lips. You felt another squeeze on your waist, peeking at him once more.

“Give me a kiss,” he says without shame, to which you tease him in response.

“Why? So you can ask me for more? You’re getting greedy, Dr. Abbot.” A fingernail scrapes over the stubble on his cheek, thumbing over his chin and the edge of his bottom lip.

“Can you blame me?” He shrugs nonchalantly, big hands reaching down to cup your ass, kneading one cheek in his palm. “Thought you got used to my obsession with you.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is? Thought you loved me or something.”

“That too, smartass.” His eyes glimmer with mischief, running a hand up your back to coax you closer. “C’mon baby. Put me out of my misery and give your old man a kiss.”

You did just that, slotting your lips over his and bestowing the kiss he so desperately craved. Keeping his head at an angle, you slip your tongue into his mouth, curling around his as you scratch the nape of his neck. A rumble groaned in his chest, gripping you harder through the material of your sleep shorts. Your hips had a mind of their own, gyrating over his pelvis and shifting over his thighs, huffing out a breath from the added friction.

Pulling away sooner than he liked, he pouts at the sudden distance, jutting his chin to teasingly bite at your bottom lip.

“Something tells me you’re not going to be satisfied with just one kiss.”

His chuckle darkens with his eyes, the hazel dimming to a low simmer, the heat grows in his body as desire boiled below his fingertips.

“One is never enough, sweetheart, you know that.” His touch teases along the end of your t-shirt, sneaking underneath to skim your lower stomach and drift to your side. “You mind giving me a little more?”

Now it was your turn to smirk, letting Jack lift the shirt above your head, revealing your bare frame to his hungry eyes, breasts on full display and all his for the taking.

“Only if you kiss these first,” you suggest, pointing at your chest. You quickly swallowed a gasp when Jack planted the lightest of kisses on your left breast, right where your heart began to pound in your ribcage; his stubble rasps over your skin, sending a shiver rolling down your spine. 

“Gladly.”

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[flofaiiry]

why him? ; pope cody x reader

warnings: swearing, probably ooc pope & j

wc: ~580

i am so so sorry if this is extremely ooc for pope or j, i'm basing them off of the two episodes i've watched and a bunch of pope fanfic i've read! i'm imagining this taking place right at the beginning of the show (seeing as that's all ive watched!!)

"i dont want this to come across as like..." josh trails off, searching for the words so as to not offend you, "like, rude or whatever?" he squints, trying not to cringe at how awkward he's being. you smile, "spit it out, kid, i won't be offended."

he takes a beat, slowly nodding before he continues. "why are you..." he glances back to andrew standing inside the house, before turning back to you. "why are you with him?" you raise your eyebrows, "him? you mean andrew?" josh nods, "pope, yeah- andrew i guess."

you cant help but laugh. the sound mostly leaving as forced exhales through your nose. "yeah i guess we're not really alike at all, huh." josh shakes his head, "no, you're definitely not." a small smile coming on his face, now knowing you didn't take his question the wrong way.

you take a sec, honestly thinking about the answer. why were you: college educated, career woman, from a good family, with andrew pope cody of all people. you understood how the question could come up.

you shrug.

"why is anyone with anyone," you smirk. trying to sound philosophical, while also dodging the question. josh just stares at you, not quite getting the sarcasm. you sigh. "to be honest, j? i couldn't tell you why." you admit. "i don't know that there's a reason... i just-," another sigh, collecting your thoughts now.

"i know he's not everyone's cup of tea," you start. "i know he's a lot for some people, i know people don't really get him, i know he can be scary at first..." you're practically rambling now. "i know he's got a staring habit," you tease, earning a laugh from josh, "yeah he definitely does. that shit is unsettling as hell," he admits and you laugh, nodding. "it one hundred percent is but- you'll get used to it i swear."

"really though, j, why is anyone with anyone," you circle back to your earlier point, once filled with sarcasm, now an actual question. "why are you with your girlfriend?" you counter, not trying to deflect, just... curious.

he shrugs. "makes me happy." he says matter-of-factly, "i don't know, she just... gets me." you smile. "exactly."

"is andrew a little... weird? absolutely he is. he's probably the strangest, most complicated person i've ever met but... when i'm with him? when it's just us? god, it's..." you try to find the words to describe how being with andrew makes you feel, but decide to use josh's own.

"he gets me," you say simply, "and i get him."

josh nods slowly, "i guess that's all you need, right? someone that gets you." you smile, "yeah it really is."

"what's all you need?" andrew asks as he emerges from the house, walking over to where you and josh sit on a couch by the pool.

"someone that gets you." you repeat, smiling at your boyfriend while he sits down beside you and drapes his arm across your shoulder. "kid was asking for relationship advice. told him all you need is someone that gets you. the rest will just... fall into place." you fill him in. it's not entirely a lie, but it's enough for andrew not to ask anymore questions.

"uh huh," andrew hums, "got my someone right here." he pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile.

for the first time, in this moment, josh thinks he might be understanding why you two are together.

[greengoblinswifey]

I want to cockwarm Shawn Michaels in his office and deepthroat him

a/n— oh baby, me too, but while people are in the room🥳

Shawn's lips pressed against yours, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world but he didn’t. In just a few minutes, he’d be having a meeting. You moaned into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck as your tongue massaged his.

“Mm—isn’t your meeting soon?” you asked, between kisses.

“Don’t worry about that sweetheart, just sit on my dick and look pretty,” his gruff voice retorted.

Your eyes widened. He quickly unbuckled his belt, easing his hard cock from his boxers making your breath hitch. His hands skimmed down your back, settling at your hips before lifting you with ease, guiding you onto him.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with amusement.

You barely had time to respond before there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Shawn called, completely unfazed, while you tensed on his cock. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily around your waist as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

A few NXT talents stepped in, greeting Shawn with respect, eyes flickering curiously to you. You kept your expression composed, but underneath the table, your fingers dug into his arm as you shifted slightly, the hardness of him impossible to ignore. You could feel every inch, every vein, you felt so full and it took everything out of you not to jump off him.

Shawn, the professional he was, didn’t falter. His free hand casually rubbed slow, absentminded circles against your clothed clit, an infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he continued speaking.

“You okay, sweetie?” he whispered under his breath, low enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed hard, keeping your voice steady. “Mhm. J-just fine.”

He chuckled softly, the sound almost smug. “Good girl. Sit tight on that dick, won’t be long.”

And so, you did—trying your best to keep still, even as he made it impossible.

Shawn sat back in his chair, his grip firm on your waist as the meeting carried on like all was well. But beneath the table, where no one else could see, his hips bucked up, thrusting harshly into your pussy. The movement sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening on his arm as you forced yourself to stay composed.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low. “Be a good girl and be still. Wouldn’t want everyone to know how much of a slut you are, would we?”

Heat crawled up your spine, your breath catching as his hand smoothed over your hip, grounding and tormenting you at the same time. You bit your lip, forcing down the whimper threatening to escape, eyes fixed on the conversation in front of you while your body betrayed you completely.

Minutes stretched on like hours, each slight movement of his hips sending another wave of frustration and pleasure through you. You knew he was enjoying this—knew it from the way his fingers flexed against your waist, from the low chuckle he let slip when you squirmed a little too much.

Finally, Shawn clapped his hands together, signaling the end of the meeting. The NXT talent murmured their thanks, filing out one by one until the door clicked shut behind them.

As soon as you were alone, Shawn turned you in his lap, his hands framing your face as he pulled you into a teasing kiss.

“See how easy that was?” he murmured against your lips.

You exhaled shakily, narrowing your eyes at him. “Easy for you.”

His grin widened, fingers brushing along your jaw as he leaned in again. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m not done with you yet.”

He put you on your knees with ease and leaned back in his chair, his fingers tilting your chin up as he looked down at you with a smirk. His thumb traced along your jaw before he tapped it lightly.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured, his cock hard, covered in your juices and right at your mouth.

You obeyed without hesitation, taking him into your throat as his eyes darkened. His fingers ran through your braids as he murmured quiet praises.

“That’s my good girl,” he hummed. “Suck that cock.”

The knock at the door made you freeze, your breath catching as you instinctively moved to rise, but Shawn’s grip tightened just slightly. His voice remained calm, steady, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” he muttered. “Keep sucking.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could take his cock out of your mouth and protest, he called out, “Come in.”

The door swung open, and you pushed yourself to take him deeper, every nerve in your body buzzing. The person greeted Shawn, then hesitated.

“Where’s Y/N? Thought she was here.”

Shawn didn’t even flinch. “Oh, she left a little while ago.”

A pause. “Huh. Didn’t see her leave.”

Shawn merely shrugged, smoothly steering the conversation elsewhere as he spoke like nothing was unusual. But you could feel the tension in his cock, the way it twitched, the way his fingers flexed slightly, as if testing his own restraint. You stayed quiet, bobbing your head slowly as you listened to the conversation above you, knowing exactly what you were getting away with.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally shut again, signaling that you were alone. Shawn let out a slow breath, his head tilting down to meet your gaze.

“That,” he murmured, “was perfect. You were perfect.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the praise. It willed you on and you took him even deeper, the sound of gagging filling the room. You worked him over as he moaned, lips then your tongue trailing along his shaft and your hands massaging his balls.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart. You want my cum so bad, don’t you?” he groaned.

You hummed around him, deep throating his cock with your watery gaze locked on his.

“Swallow my cum then. Swallow every drop, baby.”

With a deep, ragged moan that went straight to your pussy, Shawn’s warm cum shot down your throat. You guided him through his orgasm, sucking as you swallowed every drop. You didn’t stop until you felt him soften in your mouth, then you took him out with a pop, a trail of spit connecting you to him.

He leaned down slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips and tasting the remnants of his cum. His smirk was evident even as he whispered against your mouth—

“Such a good girl for me.”

[riverbends]

something something pope cody spots broke single mom reader in a grocery store and he can’t help but watch from around the corner of an aisle as you regrettably tell your kid that you can’t afford to get whatever they’re asking for because you’ve already stocked up on necessities that have reached your budget. for pope, the pout on your kid’s face is only secondary to the anguish that’s written all over yours. the urge to aid, to assuage, is a driving force within him - one that he only recognises when he sees you frown in defeat. the way you comb your fingers through your baby’s hair, trying to comfort them, kinda has him feeling weak and gut-punched. is anybody taking care of you? someone has to. he’s already taken note of the prized item that you don’t have enough to pay for and he’s gone before you can even notice he was watching in the first place.

but then you’re in the parking lot with your kid who’s sighing and pouting as you’re loading the groceries into the trunk of your ancient, half-dead sedan when a strange man rocks up next to you with his own bag of groceries. looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life. doesn’t introduce himself, doesn’t really say anything at all, but he’s handing your kid whatever they were begging you for in the store and they beam up at him like he just gifted them the fucking world. you, on the other hand, are a little sceptical because how did he notice? where on earth did he come from? why is he so eerily quiet? you can only resort to smiling at him and, to your surprise (and your delight), the corner of his mouth just barely quirks up. a little crooked. it warms you. “what do you say to the nice man?” you ask your kid, and they promptly drag out a well-rehearsed ‘thaaaank youuu’. the man nods once. and then he’s on his way, disappearing from view. weeks later, you’ve only just recently caught onto the recurring appearance of a bulky black pickup with tinted windows parked opposite your neighbour’s house. hm. that’s odd.

(update: i decided to continue this here)

[boltlightning]

psych: shawn & gus and holding hands?

35. holding hands

“It’s in all the park guides, Shawn—take my hand. If your ass gets left behind when I bolt out of here, I’m not coming back for you, count on it.” Midnight is dark and deep in this creepy forest, which is too bad, as Gus can’t see Shawn’s eyes roll by the light of the flashlight alone. “Dude, you’re just scared, and your hands get so clammy when you’re scared, and I am not dealing with your secretions when there’s a murderer loose—” A branch snaps somewhere deeper in the night, and Shawn backpedals with a yelp, seizing at Gus’ hand; they squeeze so tight it is a wonder they do not break bones.

send me a prompt, get a 5-sentence drabble! ✨

[juliets-roller-derby-awesomeness]

quick little drabble based on @famkoe's prompt: the chief has reluctantly approved an undercover mission starring lassiter. Lassiter is determend to show how great he is at this. Shawn is Just confused about why lassie Just walked into his favourite gay bar.(shassie)

Sean was two drinks in on the dance floor. His shirt had mysteriously unbuttoned itself and the DJ was halfway through [music]. And the edges of his world were starting to get fuzzy just the way he likes them.

gus had refused to come tonight on account of "there are never any girls at that place"to which Sean pointed out

"Gus, don't be a limp piece of confetti in the morning after a birthday party. that's the point buddy. no girls just men. And some boys. A fair few lads as well. Come on. We see girls all the time. "

unfortunately, Sean had lost that argument, and so it was forced to face the gay club alone. :(. he was working to rectify that situation, settling up to a taller man With an umbrella in his cup, when something caught Sean's eye.

He tilted his head and squinted – inwardly smiling at what Gus's reaction would've been – and focused on the shoes he could just make out from behind a throng of people across the bar.

he recognized those dark brown men's casual loafers from somewhere. Flipping for his memory, he realized they were the same shoes Lassie have been wearing that day at the police station.

Sean abruptly left the conversation he had been half paying attention to holding up a finger in the direction of tight pants. he hurried over to the crowd of people and yes. It was detective Carlton Lassiter.

well, Carlton Lassiter yes. Detective? Sean had never seen a detective wearing nothing but a tight green mesh top and Jean shorts with a bandanna in both back pockets. Lassie's back was pressed up against a bar, overwhelmed by the five men all crowding around him, trying to buy him drinks. Sean grabbed his elbow and said loudly "come on Ted. Let's get you home. " And turn it to the nearest bathroom.

when they reached the men's room shawn pulled carlton through the door as 2 other men stumbled out, far more inebriated that shawn was.

"spencer what the hell are you doing here? i won't have you blowing my cover just because the chief wouldn't put you on the bone street case." lassie hissed at him while checking under the stall doors for eves-droppers

"bone street? blow your cover? lassie i was just dancing when i saw those horrible shoes, i mean, seriously man, who wears boat shoes to a night out? don't answer that i have a better question, how did it work?? those twinks were crawling all over you maybe i should dress like it's my uncle's wedding next time"

"they're not boat shoes spencer they're men's casual shoes. they go with any outfit even..." lassiter looked down and looped a finger around a black and gold string of his shirt "this thing" he finished

shawn looked down at the taller man's shirt, unable to stop staring at the waves of salt and pepper hair tangled in the tight garment

"shawn!" he yelled. shawn looked up, getting the feeling his name had been said several times.

just then a knock came at the door and the two made eye contact, lassiter determined and shawn mischievous.

before the detective could say anything shawn said

"lassie do you trust me?"

"no."

"well, you can't be hiding a gun in those shorts and we're on my turf so just follow my lead" he said quickly as the door handle turned

"i- what? sha-" lassiter spluttered as shawn stood on his tiptoes to meet his lips

as their mouths touched shawn pushed him to the wall, one hand up by his face, pinning him in and the other slipped underneath the waistband of the jean shorts by carlton's hip.

shawn broke the kiss for a split second as the door was opening to hiss "hands on my ass big boy"

carlton complied, not entirely sure if he liked being called a big boy but the zing that went through his body as he awkwardly grabbed shawn's but was undeniable.

through the rushing in his ears lassiter could hear a quiet chuckle from the door way and a man say "i'll just use the ladies' then" before the door closed

expecting shawn to stop he put his hands down, but instead shawn's teeth moved lower to meet his ear. in a moment he would deny later, carlton closed his eyes, waiting for shawn to kiss his neck, but instead shawn whispered in a jovial and seductive tone "by the way, ted, the guy in the with the orange shirt who was trying to buy you a whiskey killed that girl two weeks ago. you might want to bring him in for questioning" before walking out the door and back onto the dance floor, leaving carlton reeling