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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

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Helper III

Lia Wälti x Mariona Caldentey x Child!Reader

Summary: You help your Mummy's girlfriend

Mariona knew about you before she started dating Lia.

It would be practically impossible otherwise.

She can still remember the uproar that went through the gossip vines when Lia took a break due to injury only to announce she was pregnant. At the time, Mariona hadn't paid much attention to it.

She'd seen the pictures, of course, announcing your arrival but she hadn't had any plans to see you. She and Lia weren't close back then.

But then Ana started talking about you both.

First it was 'my best friend Lia' and 'my little niece' that Ana seemed to throw out randomly but then Mariona started paying attention to it. You and Lia had existed on the fringes of her awareness for a while until Lia joined Mariona and Ana's girl's holiday.

You hadn't been there, spending the time with your grandparents back in Switzerland so Mariona got to know Lia without you and then, as time went on, she got to know Lia with you too.

Now she was here though.

At Arsenal after ten years at Barcelona.

"You ready?" Lia asks.

They'd driven separately today.

Mariona had gotten her own apartment rather than moving straight in though both she and Lia know she'll be spending a lot of time with you and Lia at the house.

"Yeah. I think so."

"It'll be great," Lia assures you, opening one of the backseat car doors and undoing your seatbelt," Won't it, guppy?"

"Uh-huh!"

You slide out of the car as Lia goes to get all the bags out of the boot. You place your hand in Mariona's.

"You have to hold hands in the car park," You tell her," Mummy says so. And you can't run either. That's dangerous."

"Oh, wow," Mariona pretends to be surprised," Thanks for telling me."

You beam at her and Lia looks at you both fondly.

"I'm going to school this year," You tell Mariona," So I won't be around a lot."

"I heard you are very excited."

"I am. Mummy already taught me how to read and how to add and take away."

"Well, I think you'll do very well at school then."

Your little chest puffs out in pride as the three of you make your way into the locker room.

You drop Mariona's hand then to go running over to Codi.

You didn't get to see her for most of the summer so now that preseason's rolled around, you just can't contain yourself.

Codi's your best friend at Arsenal, you think. She's fun and cool and has cows back home in Spain that she sends Mummy pictures of for you to see.

Codi does puzzles with you, at Arsenal and at home too. It's quite fun.

She's friends with Mariona as well and she told you once that Mario is just a big puppy sometimes. You haven't met a lot of puppies in your life except for Jordan's Blu and Beth and Viv's Myle but you think you understand what Codi is saying.

Mariona has an infectious kind of happiness.

Infectious is one of the words Mummy taught you last night when you were reading together so you're very proud of yourself for knowing how to use it.

"Guppy!" Mummy calls," Come on, breakfast!"

You usually have two breakfasts. One at home which is your main one. It's cereal most of the time and you and Mummy clean the dishes together before you come to training to get your second breakfast.

This one is usually a bacon roll or something smaller depending on how much first breakfast you eat.

You tell Mariona this as you walk with her, swinging your joint arms.

"I just need to go talk to Kim," Lia says," Guppy can take you to grab food, right Guppy?"

"I can help!"

You lead Mariona over to the buffet and hand her a plate.

"What do you want?" She asks.

"I'm meant to be helping you!"

She laughs and it's that infectious kind of laugh that has you giggling too.

"We can help each other."

In the end, you both end up with food on your plate and you practically drag Mario over to where Leah is eating.

"You're not eating properly," You tell her and Leah groans.

"Come on, it's the first day of preseason! Have we got to start this now?"

"Yes. That's not proper food, auntie Leah!"

Mariona has to smother her laugh. She's not really sure what to make of Leah now that they're on the same team but she knows Leah's important to you and Lia. She's just not sure where the boundaries are right now.

"Yeah," Leah says," You laugh it up Caldentey, just you wait. She'll be on you of your eating habits."

"No I won't!" You insist," Because Mariona eats healthy!"

At first, Mariona was a little confused about how you would fit in with the Arsenal girls. She couldn't wrap her head around what it would be like with such a little kid running around with the team would look like.

But, as she watches you wander around with a clipboard in her own apartment, she can see you're exactly like you are in private.

Overwhelmingly helpful.

She hasn't unpacked yet so she was a little confused as to why you and Lia followed her back from training, only for Lia to get out of the car and tell her you've been preparing for this moment for weeks now.

You hold the same clipboard from training right now and number boxes with a little pencil.

Lia sits on the sofa, watching you with a fond expression.

"Don't mind her," She tells Mariona," She'll let us know when she wants to put us to work."

"Are you sure? I can-"

"Leave her," Lia insists," She gets annoyed when people interrupt her 'system'. She'll get us when it's time."

You touch every box twice, tapping the top before noting down the number on your little clipboard.

"She's very smart."

"She cried last year when I told her she just missed the cut off date for school. She spent all of her time trying to learn what she'll be learning this year."

"Scarily smart, then."

"She's a good girl." Lia watches as you do a second sweep of the boxes. "And she's very excited that you're here."

"Is she?" Mariona frowns. "But-"

"She thinks you're super cool like Codi."

"Does she?"

"I mean, you don't have cows like Codi does but Guppy really wants to see how well you can puzzle. It's her favourite activity."

"Puzzling? Really?"

"Why? Are you surprised?"

Mariona turns her head to watch you poke around a box that she's sure has all of her electronics in.

"No. That tracks. I think I'm more surprised that she got Codi into puzzling."

"Mummy!" You call out before Lia can respond," Mariona! I'm ready."

Lia stands smoothly, "Alright. Where do you want us?"

You look down at your list, quiet for a moment as you sound out what you've written there. "Boxes one and four need to go in the kitchen! Two and three are all clothes and five has a bunch of decorations. Six and-"

"Let's take it room by room," Lia says," Let's start with the kitchen."

You nod, head bobbing up and down twice. "Okay! Boxes one and four!"

Lia grabs one of them, hefting it up into her arms and heading into the kitchen to start unpacking.

"Come on, Mariona," You say, taking her hand," Me and Mummy are going to help!"

#woso x reader #lia walti x reader #lia walti #mariona caldentey x reader #mariona caldentey #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

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AITA for ruining my cousin's birthday party?

Please read the whole thing before making a judgement.

Real names not used.

So I (25M) bought a nintendo switch for my younger sister Sara (16F) for her birthday. However, mom decided that Sara would be sharing her birthday party with our cousin Cody (12M) as a celebration for him just recovering from having cancer. Mom had also said that it would be family only so Sara was not allowed to have her friends over for her 16th birthday. She was of course upset over that because she had plans on what she wanted to do with her friends. But Aunt (Karen) had told her not to be selfish about it because "you see your friends every day at school."

The rest of our relatives who had been invited hadn't been prepared for it to be a celebration for Cody as well, so none of them had gotten anything for him. Karen decided that it would be fair if Cody got to choose some of the gifts for himself. Of course as soon as he saw Sara open the wrapped up Switch, he had snatched it saying that it was his now. Sara was upset about that because she didn't think it was fair to let him do that, but the rest of our aunts and uncles scolded her for being selfish and being mean to "poor Cody". And "Cody has been sick, just let him have this. He deserves it. You are being greedy for wanting it."

Sara locked herself in her room for the rest of the party and didn't even come out for the cake. She only came out after everyone had left. Her eyes were puffy from crying and it was obvious that she did not have a good birthday because of everything. If anything, the party had been more about Cody while she had just been shoved to the side.

Fast forward a few months to the day of Cody's birthday. Aunt planned a big party for the day. All of Cody's friends were invited along with all our family. Sara refused to go and planned to go hang out with friends instead, but she was forced to go in the end because other relatives were calling her selfish and cruel for not wanting to celebrate Cody's birthday. She said she would only be there for an hour before leaving, and I said I would drive her home.

Aunt and Cody had gone out to buy the cake, so I went to their home early. Luckily for me, Uncle (Tony) was home. He hadn't been there for Sara's birthday party because he had been away for a business trip. He had let me inside when he saw me and I told him what had happened at Sara's birthday. Apparently he hadn't know what had happened. I asked him if they kept the box for the Switch, and he had said yes.

Tony had not stopped me when I packed the Switch back into its box (I removed the game that was in it and put that back in its case). He didn't stop me when I took the packed up Switch out to my car. He said that I was allowed to have it, so I did. I took it back to the store I bought it from and returned it. Luckily, it was still within the return window, so I was able to return it. I bought a few new Switch games for Sara (Some of her friends had banded together and gotten her a Switch). I never went back to Cody's house after that. Instead, I stayed at home with Sara because our parents relented and let her just stay home instead. I played games with her while our parents were gone.

Hours later, Mom and Dad come home bringing Karen with them. Karen was livid. She screamed that I ruined Cody's birthday party by stealing his Switch and that we must hate him for being sick. She knew I had been at the house because the doorbell ring showed I had been there. Apparently they had planned party games that would revolve around the Switch so all of Cody's friends had been disappointed when there was nothing to play. Karen screamed about how Cody had been crying and that it was not right to make the birthday boy cry. I pointed out that they had made Sara cry on her birthday. And Karen said "Sara shouldn't be making a big deal out of it, she is being childish for crying over a game system that she doesn't need. Cody is still a child, and you are giving him a bad childhood."

Karen decided that she would be taking Sara's Switch and giving it back to Cody and that she had no right to be taking Cody's things. Sara argued with her saying that it was her Switch that her friends gave her, but Karen screamed that she was just making excuses to be a thief and "you would probably be happy if Cody died, wouldn't you?" Mom and Dad had made her leave, but Karen has been blowing up our phones since then calling us (but mainly me and Sara) assholes for ruining Cody's birthday.

Yeah I know that taking the Switch back was mean, but I don't like how Cody just has to be the center of attention for everything. Sara's birthday was not the first time he got all attention when the party had been for someone else, but those are stories for another time.

AITA for ruining his birthday?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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frostbitebakery · 6 months

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LOUD.

“It’s a,” and here Cody bites his lips, scratches the side of his nose.

“A?” Obi-Wan prompts gently. Keldabe Kiss doesn’t, objectively, sound too dirty. What’s in a name etc. but when Cody had said, if Obi-Wan is game, they could try something, Obi-Wan had kept his expectations open.

“It’s a headbutt,” Cody wrings out of himself after another few seconds.

On the list of things Obi-Wan had, after all, expected to some degree, this isn’t one of them. He keeps silent. “You want to give me a concussion?” He’s great at being silent, turns out. “Or vice versa?”

Cody is already shaking his head, foot gently shoving his helmet further away from them. “No! It’s a sign of affection…”

Only in the Mandalorian culture, Obi-Wan thinks fondly. “Explain it to me,” he signs, eyes crinkling despite himself.

Cody huffs, leans back against the wall behind his bunk. Most of his armor is stacked on its stand. The helmet on the floor near them because Cody had been fiddling with the antennas when he’d gripped it with both hands, stared at the visor, and asked if Obi-Wan knew what a Keldabe Kiss was.

Obi-Wan sits cross-legged in front of him, restless fingers playing with the starched to death blanket. The mask is on and he wishes it weren’t. The last engagement had knocked the air right out of his lungs when a Hyena-class suddenly dropped down on them and delivered proton bombs on mass. He ended up gasping and on his back after the action was over, so for now the mask stays on.

Cody adjusts the hem on the t-shirt he’s wearing, the bandage no longer peeking out when he’s done. “I’m stalling.”

“I noticed,” Obi-Wan signs back, knocks his shin against Cody’s and lets it rest there.

“Growing up,” Cody begins after a few long moments where he’s watched their legs touch, “we’d sometimes see the Template put his forehead against Boba’s. Gently,” he adds, crooked smile for Obi-Wan’s concussion related fears. His voice turns wistful and Obi-Wan’s heart aches. “We didn’t— most of us didn’t want to be in his place. The Template hadn’t been popular with the clones long before he rejected us. But something about that gesture…”

The gentleness of it in contrast to the cold, neutral environment they’d been growing up in. The obvious affection of it had been calling them. One of the trainers had let it drop what it was named. And over time they had been able to put together a definition.

“You headbutt your enemy to get out of close quarters engagement,” Cody explains. “You have to be aware how you hit them so you don’t injure yourself while inflicting the maximum amount of damage to your opponent.”

“Is that why your nose is a bit,” Obi-Wan signs, pointing at the crook of his own nose just above the mask.

“Wolffe’s head is harder than his bucket,” Cody mutters, thumb stroking over Obi-Wan’s ankle absently.

The other definition, the one the clones had mostly embraced, the one that brought warmth and solidarity into their midst when no one else provided it, that one was based on affection. Clacking your helmets together after the heat of a battle, a job well done. Bringing your foreheads together to be there, to mourn together, to show the other isn’t alone. To remind the other they’re loved.

“It’s also a proxy for a kiss,” Cody explains, color high in his cheeks which makes Obi-Wan’s heart squirm in his chest. They’ve had sex a few possible and impossible ways and yet Cody is blushing over explaining a kiss. It’s sweet and touching and— “You can’t kiss when you wear buckets,” Cody says, “and sometimes you can’t kiss at all for various reasons. So it’s— it’s a kiss by proxy,” he ends, shrugging helplessly and aborted.

Obi-Wan waits as the question builds up inside Cody, firming the strokes of his thumb, the determination in his spine. He waits while Cody is stealing his breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

#loud au #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #mute!obi wan #jedi shadow!obi wan #cyberpunk au

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months

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i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day.

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams.

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . . he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden.

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait.

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass.

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh.

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own.

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem.

His real fucking problem is Nick.

Your boyfriend.

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair.

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is.

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.”

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really.

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care.

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line.

Never a good idea with Benny Miller.

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road.

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks.

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight.

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie.

Don’t, man, just don’t.

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out.

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers.

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction.

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you.

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back.

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier.

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet.

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet.

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest.

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.”

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now.

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world.

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all.

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one.

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart.

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar.

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night.

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker.

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system.

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you?

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch.

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning.

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail.

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play.

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami.

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language.

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall.

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding.

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion.

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy.

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on.

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart.

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor.

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes.

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on.

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.”

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off.

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal?

Do you want to–

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags.

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.”

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail?

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees.

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another.

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.”

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle.

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude.

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes.

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover.

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold.

“How do you feel about conchas?”

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

#SpaceSistersSecretValentine #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #pedro pascal characters

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kitcat22 · 4 months

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Can’t get the idea of Rebels era old Rex Gregor and Wolffe time travelling.

And i don’t mean elderly consciousness put back into their younger bodies kind of time travelling, i mean old 60-70sh biologically, sagging skin and beer bellied Rex Wolffe and Gregor back in time, kicking ass, taking names and bringing down the empire before it officially begins

Mostly this comes for me wanting old Wolffe who with gained knowledge and insight into what the Corries and Fox more specifically endured, plus a little bit of emotional growth and brain damage deciding that the best course of action to stop his brothers neck being snapped is to go rogue and kidnap him.

Fox wakes up from like his 4 and a half hour designated sleeping period to the blurry sight of an unusual wrinkled Wolffe standing right beside his bed. He doesnt even have time to say ‘what the fuck’ before he’s been stunned and flung over old Wolffe’s shoulder and is then snuck out to be stashed away somewhere while Wolffe works out how to kidnap everyone else.

Also! Old Rex meeting young Rex and taking every opportunity to make fun of him. The 501st adore old Rex, young Rex does not.

Old!Rex: y’know when I was your age…

Young!Rex: When you were my age you were me now shut the fuck up

And also:

Fives: Will we all be pudgy when we’re older or is that just a you thing?

Rex: 🤬

Speaking of getting older, there’s also the fact that most of the clones didn’t actually get to Rex’s age and i think this would be really painful for the Old Relics Gang too. Like you knew how young your brothers were when the died but seeing them makes it hit harder.

Cody is not thrilled at being treated like a younger brother even if happy that Rex reached old age.

Where is Gregor in this you ask? Probably helping Wolffe kidnap people. Rex is not impressed with the short term planning even if he kind of wanted to do the same.

#the other corrie Commanders are having anxiety attacks thinking Fox is out on another blackout mission #star wars #star wars rebels #tcw #the clone wars #captain rex #commander wolffe #captain gregor #commander fox #commander cody #arc trooper fives #the 501st #star wars au #star wars time travel

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chaosandmarigolds · 1 month

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Coco!! Stop talking about old-

I LOVE HIM

Anyway..

Sorry but John Price, who is undoubtedly the most father coded person, would also be the coolest uncle ever to your nieces and nephews

It would be just a normal dinner with your sisters family, you going on the late summer night with your fiancé. Course you were ready for the ‘isn’t he like…dads age?’ From your sister and a few off the handle remarks from your brother in law, even the kids- Nora, 8, and Coby, 5 - would find a way to a remark. Of that you would have no doubt

And unsurprisingly the air was a bit tense right off the bat, John would press a kiss to the top of your head before Adam would whisk him away to the grill outback

You would get a few smart words from you sister as you helped her set the table

‘He’s really nice, Joan.’ Your words would fail on deaf ears.

‘Course he’s nice! He grew up in the fifties.’

…‘80’s.’

‘THATS BETTER HOW???’

Meanwhile Adam would be making small talk about military things he knew nothing about, and John would nod and smile, correcting him only if he said something utterly absurd

Nora would come over with her ball, trying to get Adam to play and he would said he couldn’t after all he’s talking to ‘Uncle John’

So she would turn to John-

“Wanna play?”

“What’s the game?”

“…run away from Coby and don’t let him have the ball.” Nora replied with a little shrug.

John looks to Adam and then back to the little girl, only to then see Coby right behind her- who promptly snatched the red plastic ball and took off running across the yard.

To that the little girl gasps and looks back up at John, figuring it a loss cause before taking off after her little brother.

‘Adam!’ You open the sliding door to step onto the patio, eyes narrowing against the summer sun and you look to him, “Joan said she’s ready-where’s John?”

Adam gave you a look, “Playing fortress with the kids.”

After wandering around for a few minutes you found the treehouse a few hundred feet away and you find him hoisting the five year old into the dumbwaiter-esk lift, Nora in the little cabin peering out the window.

“You gotta-uncle John you gotta make me go SUUUUPER high.”

“Super high? Can’t think I can lad, but I’ll get ya up to your sister.”

You watch for a minute, fully aware John knew you were there, before speaking, “Dinners ready.”

“NOOOO.”

“Auntie-Auntie can you,” Nora says from her spot, “Can you tell my mom later?”

“Aw, Nor,” you say as you catch the little boy as he jumps down from the ledge, “Your mom wants everyone to come eat.”

“But-but I’m playing.”

“Nora-“

“Lassie cmon down, we’ll finish up after yeah?” John would call out from the bottom of the ladder and somehow the stubborn little girl would relent, climbing down before happily being carried via piggy back.

All in all, for the few remarks your sister made during dinner and then the small talk that followed you would consider that a win.

Until weekend babysitting became a thing because Nora and Cody wouldn’t accept anyone else.

“We might as just have have kids, save us time on driving.” You laugh to your joke after you drop the two kids off back home. However after the long moment of silence you look to him.

“We could.”

“Yeah…yeah we could.”

“Mm, we should.”

“Agreed.”

(….idk yall I’m just yapping. Anyyyyway lemme know if you want more John price stuff)

#coco's chaos <3 #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #john price cod #john price x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #cod x y/n #cod imagine #captain price incorrect quotes #captain price #cod john price #captain john price

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hastalavistabyebye · 3 months

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I've been thinking about it for quite some time (and it's a good thing my blog is so smol because a lotta people ain't going to like this) but we need to be honest for two seconds. Fox wouldn't be hated for killing Fives.

It's not the simple usual take on how Fox didn't fired right away and tried to calm Fives down first, how he was just doing his job. This is true but it goes deeper even.

The clones were taught how to deal with traitors.

We saw it with Rex when he met Cut Lawquane. He was faced with a deserter and his first reaction wasn't one of peaceful understanding at all, quite the contrary. Of course he let him go and live with his family in the end. (Interesting to note that there were no officer present too) But what's interesting is not the conclusion he made, but his instinctual, learned behavior : deserters = traitors = bad.

And during the Umbara arc, we saw that the clones also learned how to form a firing squad. They knew how to do that. Yes, in the end, again, they ended up letting their siblings live but there also was the aspect that they already doubt Krell's orders AND that this situation was clearly, stupidly unfair and wrong. And they didn't like nor trust the general himself already. So it was an easy order to go against. But then again what is interesting is that they knew how to do that.

The idea of the Vode not knowing or even being able to conceive shooting a brother, even less killing one, is very sweet but sadly not true. They are soldiers first, born and trained. They would not look kindly to traitors and deserters. They would also know how to court martial the formers, even (or maybe especially) if it's other clones.

All of this to say that Fox killing Fives after he tried to kill the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic ? The highest ranking person in the entire Republic ? And he was also armed, dangerous and out of control AND didn't listen to attempts at calming him. In all of those conditions, very little people would bat an eye to Fox taking those actions.

The only people that would hate Fox are the people close to Fives -Rex and Torrent, Cody and some of the 212th too maybe, by proxy, and Anakin. The Jedi would frown at this, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka maybe more than the rest and would be more affected, because they were close to Fives too.

But the rest of the GAR ? Well of course some won't see it with a kind eye because there's always people to tell you they would have done better, but globally they wouldn't mind so much. Because what Fox did was something they had been, in fact, trained for.

And even if there was a GAR/Guard divide, it wouldn't be this event that make everything goes from bad to worse. It might be one more critic on Fox, it might not be taken kindly. But in the end it would be more because it's Fox and they don't-like-Fox, more than the killing a brother part.

Okay this is longer than I thought it would be 😅 but my point still is : the Vode are soldiers first and foremost. They don't act under the same values and morals as us at all. They were trained to kill enemies of the Republic. If those enemies were among the Republic didn't change a thing. If those enemies were fellow clones didn't change a thing, they were trained to kill them too. So Fox only doing his job in that instant also means that a lot of other Clone Commanders would have done the very same as him. Maybe not all of them, sure (it can depend from their generals) (which Fox don't have from what we know). But maybe some of them wouldn't even have tried to resonate with Fives at all.

The point is : the GAR wouldn't have hate Fox for this. If they hated him, killing Fives wasn't the reason, nor even the starting point most likely.

#hasta rambles #hi tumblr void #sw #tcw #commander fox #arc trooper fives #clone troopers

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punksdoll · 9 months

Note

Heyyyy, saw you didn’t have anything for Cody, so allow me to be the first 😈

I actually have two prompts, you can pick either!

So for this I just want some really sure fluff ! So imagine the reader is an idol of some sort who is always busy, but finally she decides to take a break and surprise Cody at his house one day.

For the other one, the reader is a wrestler with Cody and is about to fight in the ring when shinsuke comes up and attacks her with his mist. (This would be in a mixed tag team match so watching Cody loose it because shinsuke hurt his girl, etc etc)

Tyyyy I hope you have a wonderful day :3!

~~~𝑴𝒚 𝑾𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏~~~

gif not mine like, comments, & reblogs appreciated

𝑪𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝑹𝒉𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ^owner of gif

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑪𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒓, 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕<𝟑 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅<𝟑

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕, 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔

not proofread

“You ready baby?” Cody walks up behind y/n who is adding the final touches on her eye makeup.

“Mhm…” Y/n says as she tries to keep herself steady with the little american flag on her eye to represent it for her boyfriend.

Recently there has been a feud going between Cody and Shinsuke. Add that to Y/n having her own problems with damage cntrl, Adam Pearce thought it would be a good idea for the couple to pair up with each other to take on Shinsuke and a member of Damage Control, to add on to their feud and make it more interesting for the fans.

“You should do something for me as well.” Cody smiles as he watches y/n put her makeup away.

“Like what?” Y/n looks over at her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

“Your initial.” Cody smirks, “So everyone knows I’m yours,” he winks.

She chuckles before grabbing her ink eye liner and bringing his face closer to carefully do her initial. “There, all pretty now.” She gives his cheek a kiss.

“Great, now we’re ready.” He lays his hand on y/n’s lower back right as one of the crew comes over and reminds them both that it’s almost time.

“Our first mixed tag team match,” y/n starts as she walks in front of Cody while he trails behind her with his hand still on her lower back, “we got this, yes we do. Everything will go just right and we’re gonna win. No trouble.” Y/n hypes them up, more for herself than him.

“Yes, yes they will.” Cody gives her a kiss right as his music starts playing.

•••

Everything was going well. The match was running smoothly getting the crowds reaction here and there, no distractions, no interference. It was perfect for them both.

Until it wasn’t that is.

It was y/n and Asuka that were tagged in. Taking blows left to right, right to left, etc etc. It was going well. Y/n kept watching her back for any of the other damage control members to appear and distract her. She knew it was coming, she knew it was…she just didn’t think it was going to turn out…horribly.

Y/n had hit her signature move adding onto her finisher. She rushed over to pin Asuka and to catch the win for her and her boyfriend until Bayley intervened.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Bayley rushes into the ring, immediately catching the referee’s attention as she stops counting and rushes over to Bayley to get her out of there.

“What the hell!” Y/n rushes up next to the referee and yells at Bayley, “Get the hell out you dog! Get out.” Y/n shouted at Bayley, shaking her head.

“I got it, I got it.” The ref tells y/n who rolls her eyes and turns herself back towards her opponent.

She expected something was to come when she did. She expected Asuka to be the one to mist her, she expected Asuka to be the one to attack her.

She absolutely and most certainly did not expect her boyfriend’s rivalry, Shinsuke Nakamura, to be the one to mist her.

She had turned around and was immediately misted in the face by Shinsuke thanks to the distraction by the referee. The crowd lets out gasps and some even cursing out as they watched Shinsuke mist her and immediately roll out of the ring before the referee could see what he did. Once he’s out of the ring he lets out a laughter as Asuka does her signature move and pins y/n down, catching the win for the both of them.

Cody rushes over to Y/n almost immediately as Asuka rushes outside of the ring with Shinsuke next to her, both staring at the couple with big grins as they soak in their victory. Cody was raging. All he wanted to do was get out of that ring and give Shinsuke the beating of his life but he knew that his woman needed him there.

“It fucking burns! Oh my god.” Y/n shouts out as Cody immediately places a towel on her eyes.

“It’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be ok.” He soothes her, “Keep it on your eyes.” He picks her up and rushes her backstage and towards the medical.

•••

“What were you thinking when you decided to mist your rival’s woman?” The interviewer asks Shinsuke after the match had ended.

“Victo-.” Shinsuke is almost immediately cut off as he is tackled from behind by Cody Rhodes.

Cody is fuming with rage as he sends punches left and right on Shinsuke and throwing him against some chairs. He grabs one of those chairs and starts repeatedly hitting Shinsuke with it. Making sure it hits his upper and lower body all at the same time before referees could come rushing out and trying to stop him.

“No…” Cody shakes his head as he grabs Shinsuke and drags him over to where those chairs had fallen and hits his finisher, Cross Rhodes, making Shinsuke land on the chairs.

Referees drag him away almost immediately as they all yell at him to stop. Cody raises his hands up in surrender, slowly backing up. “Don’t you ever lay your shit on my woman.” He threatens before walking away completely.

•••

Y/n smiles immediately as Cody walks into the medical room after his altercation with Shinsuke that she had just watched.

“You ok?” Cody cups her face that’s stained with red.

“I’m better now, now that you gave him a good ass beating for me.” Y/n says with a grin, giving him a kiss, “Thank you cariño.”

“Anything for my woman.” Cody smiles and gives her multiple pecks on the lips.

#cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes #wwe cody rhodes #cody rhodes imagine #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe superstars #american nightmare #wwe american nightmare

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0h0possum · 8 months

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Codywan Headcanon/AU that lives rent free in my head

I think my favorite codywan headcanon/AU is that they are just so good at being professional and discreet when they need to, for literal years, that no one knows they are a thing.

Like my favorite idea of codywan is that they both agree their duties and obligations come first. Honestly they kinda deal with it like a business contract. They sit down and agree: yes they have feelings for each other, yes they want to be together, yes they want as much as a relationship as they can get now since they both never know when one of them might die, yes they need to put their war duties first, yes Obi-wan will always put his Jedi duties first, yes Cody will always put protecting and creating a future for his brothers first, yes the will keep this relationship under raps as it could be under scrutiny for breaking GAR and Jedi rules, yes they will only act as a couple when off duty.

They are just the opposite of Anakin and Padme, no one knows about them. Cody and Obi-wan aren’t trying to hide it per say, they just are so good at being The Commander and The General that no one would ever think they were anything but professional coworkers and maybe friends. Even if there are signs they may be more, their friends and family overlook them because ‘Cody’s too strict about following the regs to be interested in a relationship’ or ‘Obi-wan is too focused on being a model Jedi and following the Code to be in a relationship’.

They are too good at balancing their lives and being ‘The Unproblematic Couple™’.

So when the war ends and they defeat Palpatine, save Anakin and get the clones rights (because we only Stan happy endings in this Codywan house), they both agree mutually to take a break.

Cody takes time to find himself away from the GAR and being The Commander. He spends time with his brothers and helping them all find their feet once they leave the GAR. He helps build a life for them all, while also taking time to find who he is besides a soldier.

Obi-wan spends time reconnecting with Anakin and Ahsoka, making amends with both of them. Getting to finally return to being a peacekeeper and not a General at war. I imagine he would maybe step down from the council to just be a simple Jedi. Not Master of Sorensu, youngest ever High council member, The Negotiator, General, or Sith Killer.

After their short break they agree to start meeting up again, seeing if they still feel the way they did about each other when not in the stressful environment of war and an army setting. But, lo and behold, they still of course love each other. (All the while everyone just assumes it’s Obi-wan and Cody meeting up as ex. Coworkers. They used to be the best of FRIENDS during the war)

After Obi-wan sees Anakin is fine (living with his wife and kids) and the rest of the Order isn’t in dire need of his help, and Cody sees his brothers are finding their feet in the world without need of his leadership, they both just decide they’ve been dating long enough (a few year during and after the war) and they’ve put other duties ahead of theirs relationship long enough.

They just fucking get married and buy a house. Obi-wan leaves the order and Cody moves away from his brother. And they just get married.

WHICH COMES OUT OF NOWHERE TO EVERYONE ELSE. Everyone’s like “??!!!”, “since when have you two ever been together?!”

And fucking Obi-wan and Cody (with biggest deadpan older brother energy) just say “oh yeah, since like the middle of the war? We thought you guys knew? It just never came up in conversation?”

Just absolutely bamboozling everyone in their lives. Rex and Anakin both are like “YoU nEvEr ThOuGhT tO tElL mE? YoUr BrOtHeR?”. Cue Obi-wan and Cody vaguely shrugging and saying ‘there were more important things going on’.

But yeah I just like the idea of Cody and Obi-wan jump scaring their families with their relationship.

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fynsh · 1 month

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Everyone has a special talent they are admired for but Fox just keeps pretending

Fox may not have Cody's brilliant tactical mind, Wolffe's great resilience, Bly's incredible adaptability or Pond's patient emotional genius, but all CCs - to a certain extent - shared qualities that enabled them to inspire brothers to follow them into any battle. They didn't brag about it but over the course of the war the GAR clearly noticed their commanders and ranking officers excelling in difficult missions, paving new ways by taking personal risks and eventually creating methods better than reg standards.

Fox batchers were aware nobody could outmatch him in his directional subtlety. Other would have called him manipulative but that didn't sit right with them. He used his talent to support his brothers, not to harm them. The batch knew their youngest brother was always able to catch what went unnoticed by others but they didn't always realize he could also hide anything in plain sight.

His ability to pretend was a gift morphing into a curse. Fox pretended to punish troopers ruthlessly while actually saving them from greater harm that could not be undone. It slowly turned into the GAR believing the Guard's Marshall Commander was a heartless und cruel Fierfek. Fox welcomed this portrayal to keep as many brothers as far away from the Guard's grounds as possible. His fellow Guard commanders started feeding into the narrative by joining forces with him and stripping their men of their individual armor paints. Better to keep everyone away from 000 and endure the hostility of the ones you were designated to protect on your own.

During the first year of the war his brothers tried to counteract the rumors spreading about Fox and his Guard. They knew him as a sensible and protective brother so there had to be reasoning to his actions. Fox didn't bother to elaborate. The constant deployments kept the batch apart and messages from the front lines became few and far in between.

Fox hadn't been in contact with the GAR outside of official business for months now. Until news of his oldest brother being shot by a cadet pinged on his comm. The whole incident was kept off the datapads so he wasn't able to read up any additional info. Fox felt an icicle lodge into his trachea. He rushed to the healing wards as he was ordered to accompany General Windu safely back and forth between checking on his units and talking to the Chancellor.

General Windu was whispering to a healer from the Jedi temple who he seemed to have been put in charge of taking care of his heavily injured commander. Standing in front of the bacta tank was a cadet in non standard clothing, his shoulders set straight under the thick robes and his face turned up towards the lifeless face distorted by the gelatinous healing substance. Reflected in the thick glass Fox noticed a familiar blank stare and lips set into a thin line. The cadet was clearly pretending to not be affected by looking into the face of a practically dead brother. What was he doing here, alone and away from his brigade?

General Windu turned towards the Guard and signed for them to wait for further instructions. They saluted in perfect synch and kept their position. Behind his helmet Fox eyes drifted to the figure suspended in bacta. His heart rate was dangerously slow, his usual exhaustion drowned by the anguish crawling up his spine trying to claw its way out through his clenched teeth and part his lips. When was the last time he had seen his brother face to face?

The hole inside his chest kept growing and churning and he barely kept it beneath the surface when running on no sleep and food, only caf. However, there was no use in dwelling on past decisions and paths diverging. He didn't regret keeping his batch mates away. Fox knew with them around the smallest outwardly shown signs could endanger their carefully crafted image, his brothers weren't dumb and maybe the Jedi were actually as perceptive as he was led to believe by reports and talks inside of the GAR.

So Fox pretended to be indifferent. He was okay. As the Head of the Jedi Order eventually started moving towards them and addressed Fox personally with unprompted reassurance of his brother being in the most capable hands, the Marshall Commander only thanked him formally and on behalf of the clones for going beyond standard measures to save Republic property. Windu seemed taken aback before swiftly moving out of the healing wards without sparing another look at the Guard falling in step behind him. Fox didn't look back at the two brothers staying behind. He still felt the heavy stare at the back of his bucket. Everything was fine.

Ponds definitely would have picked up on the atypical stiffness in Fox' gait, but his oldest brother might not call him out on his bluffs ever again.

I'm not sure about this drabble as it took a different direction than I intended. It also doesn't properly convey the desperation of reaching your goal of keeping as many people as possible safe from harm at the expanse of your own safety net

#star wars #star wars clone wars #star wars tcw #clone commanders #commander fox #commander ponds #light angst #brainworms leave plotholes

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joeys-babe · 11 months

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Joey B Imagines: Welcome To The Jungle

————————————————————————

summary: even nine months pregnant there’s no way you’ll miss the bengal’s first real game of the season, though joe is completely against the idea even if you’re with his family in the box.

warnings: fluff, pregnancy, birth.

pairing: joe burrow x reader

imagine universe: into the mystic

————————————————————————

"you're 9 months pregnant baby, i don't think it's a good idea for you to go to the game.." - joe

"joe there is no way i'm missing your first game of the season." - you

"you went to all the preseason games so you'll be fine to sit this one out." - joe

"you didn't play during preseason. joe i'm going to the game." - you

"what if you go into labor and i miss it." - joe

"i'll hold them in. but i'm not due for another week." - you

"i don't know about this..." - joe

"i'm on maternity leave right now so i'm gonna be in the suite with your mom and dad. i'll have people with me just in case, not taking pictures on the sidelines." - you

"okay, just please if you do go into labor, call me. i'll run off the field mid-play if i have to." - joe

"i will, joey." - you

"i put the go bag in the car just to be safe." - joe

"you're the best." - you kissed him

"okay, let's get going." - joe

he helped me into the car, along with putting his bag in the back seat next to the baby’s car seat. if only you two knew you weren’t coming back home with that empty.

right before we arrived to the facility joe called his mom down to help me up to the suite since he wouldn't be able to.

when joe pulled in the back entrance and drove to his normal parking spot we both saw his mom was waiting at the elevator.

"y/n, you are about to pop!" - robin

"shhh don't say that around joe, he'll drive me back to the house." - you

"no he won't, don't worry." - robin laughed

"yes, he will." - joe

joe turned to me, i felt a speech coming on.

"if anything happens. and i mean anything, call me okay. i'm not missing anything." - joe

"okay, joe listen to me okay. good luck today, it's the first game of the season and i want you to know i'm so proud of you. i love you so much, baby." - you

joe smiled and placed a kiss on my lips.

"i love you too, mamas." - joe

when we pulled away, joe checked the time on his phone before sighing.

"i have to get inside, thanks mom." - joe

“you're welcome, joey." - robin

joe took a glancing look back at me, his eyes wandering down to my bump as he anxiously licked his lips. he looked away and closed his eyes for a second, trying to still his racing thoughts. once he collected himself he gave me a brief hug.

"bye, guys." - joe

"bye, baby." - you kissed him one last time

joe grabbed his bag and i watched him walk towards the players entrance.

robin encouragingly rubbed my back as we walked into the elevator. she was fully aware that if joe was nervous, you were nervous as well.

once we reached the burrow suite his brothers and their girls were already there.

codie, joe’s older brother jamie’s wife, went wide eyed when she caught sight of you in her peripherals.

"y/n, girl! what are you doing here?!" - codie

"here to watch joe!" - you laughed

"you are about to pop!" - codie

"i know.. but there is no way i'm missing the first game of the season." - you

"i don't know what joe did to deserve such a supportive wife." - jimmy laughed

i sat down on the couch and leaned back against the couch, trying to get comfortable.

"joe’s just as supportive jimmy. i think he's more nervous about me being here than he is about the game." - you

jamie was standing up next to the glass and he could see joe anxiously looking up at us after the team ran out.

"y/n, joe keeps looking up here." - jamie

i practically rolled off of the couch and walked over to the glass, holding up a thumbs up.

when joe saw me, and his anxieties were eased just a little bit, he focused back on warming up.

the fact that joe was more anxious than normal was evident to the whole family, and it went silent till joe’s other older brother, dan, spoke up.

"you can tell his nerves are up." - dan

"yeah that’s obvious, but i know he'll still do amazing." - you

*time skip*

it was after the second quarter and the bengals were up 25-12 against the bills.

it was halftime so i decided to get up and walk around to grab some food from across the room.

but when i stood up, i felt and heard a splash.

"oh… no…" - you

"did your water just break?!" - codie yelled

"oh my god! we need to get you to the car, we're going to the hospital!" - robin

"no no no! i can wait till after the game, i can't make joe leave now, they're winning!" - you

"y/n, you have to go. do you know if joe will answer his phone?" - jimmy

"no, it's off in his locker for sure." - you

"i'm calling zac." - jimmy picked his phone up

as i was being rushed out of the suite by codie and robin i felt a sharp pain in my stomach

"owww!" - you

"contraction?" - codie

"yeah" - you hissed

*zac's pov*

i was talking to the team during halftime when my phone started ringing and the name "Jimmy Burrow" popped up.

knowing that y/n was nine months pregnant with twins and at an nfl game i figured it was probably about her so i answered immediately.

"is everything okay? is it about y/n?" - zac

i tried to whisper but when i said her name, joe’s eyes shot up to me and he speed walked over to me.

"everything is okay. just please tell joe that y/n went into labor. robin and codie are taking her to the hospital. let him know she’s in safe hands, i don’t want him to worry." - jimmy

"okay, will do." - zac

before i even put my phone down joe asked what was wrong and who it was.

"taylor, what happened? who was that? is it about my y/n?” - joe

"it was your dad and he called because y/n went into labor, codie and your mom are taking her to the hospital." - zac smiled

"i- i have to go with her! can i go?" - joe

"yes, joe you can go. good luck!" - zac

joe pretty much sprinted to his locker and grabbed everything he needed before running out the door in full uniform.

"joe where are you going?!" - tee

"y/n's in labor!" - joe smiled

the whole locker room heard and erupted into cheers as joe ran out of the locker room.

(joes pov)

i ran at full speed out to the car and saw my mom and codie shutting the back seat door.

"joe, you're here!" - robin

"of course! you think i'd miss this?!" - joe

"get in the back with y/n. she needs to see your face right now." - codie

when i slung the door open and dipped my head down inside the car, i watched y/n's face lit up.

"joe!" - you

"hey baby, are you ready?" - joe smiled

"as ready as i'll ever be!" - you

"OWE" - you

as soon as i was sitting down i grabbed her hand, rubbing the back of it in a way that told her i was there for her.

"you didn't even change?" - you

"nope, i ran out before even thinking about changing." - joe

"i'm sorry for making you leave your game." - you

"you and those twins are way more important than a football game.” - joe

“i love you.. so much.” - you

“i love you more, y/n.” - joe

joe pulled his shoulder pads off, leaving him in just his tight compression shirt.

he grabbed a pair of his nikes when he had ran over to his locker so he also took his cleats off.

"i'm so happy you're here joe. i was worried we wouldn’t get ahold of you." - you

"i'm happy too, but you know i'd drop anything to be here with you." - joe

"i know." - you said before a contraction hit and you squeezed joes hand

"ouch, my hand." - joe

all three women in the car looked at him with faces that said nothing but shut up.

"joe, i love you, but shut up!" - you

"okay, yes ma'am!" - joe

*time skip 2 hours later*

(joe’s pov)

when we got to the hospital we were taken to a room which is where we would be till transported to the delivery room.

i finally got the rest of my uniform off and put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

y/n was laying in her hospital bed as i sat on the couch.

"joe, it hurts.." - you

i stood up and walked over to her bed, taking her hand in mine and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"i know baby, you're so strong. i'm so proud of you." - joe

"i love you, joe." - you teared up

"i love you too baby, more then you'll ever ever know." - joe

i leaned down and kissed her forehead, when i pulled away a nurse walked in to check on y/n.

"how far apart are your contractions?" - nurse

"uh-" - you went to answer

"8 minutes." - joe answered

"uh okay, thank you." - nurse

the nurse asked a few more things and then left the room.

(y/n's pov)

"joe." - you

"mhm?" - joe

"i could've answered those questions." - you

"sorry.. i got a little excited i guess." - joe

"it's okay." - you smiled at how cute he was

joe kissed my head and then walked back over to the couch.

"joe, turn the game on." - you

"what?" - joe laughed

"turn the game on." - you

"wouldn't you rather watch like the office or new girl or something?" - joe

"no. it's the first game of the season, put the game on." - you

"okay.." - joe shrugged

he picked the remote up and turned the game on.

it was the last quarter and the bengals were still winning. it was 37-25 with 3 minutes left.

3 minutes later i was clapping my hands and cheering as the boys celebrated their first win of the actual season and ran back in the locker room.

i got a text from my best friend alexa, who was dating ja’marr, that's said where are you? so i decided to tell joe to facetime her with my phone.

"y/n where are you and why did joe leave- oh hi joe." - alexa

"hi alexa!" - joe

"where are y'all?" - alexa

joe flipped the camera and showed me in the hospital bed.

"holy crap are you in labor?!" - alexa

i nodded my head and gave her a thumbs up.

"oh my god!!" - she excitedly squealed

"y'all should be proud of me! i didn't tell her that y/n went into labor!" - ja'marr

"bro do you want a cookie?" - joe joked

"are you guys excited?!" - alexa

"i am, what about you baby?" - joe

"i'm thrill-" - you started but a contraction cut you off

"that's 6 minutes after your last one!" - joe

"thanks for the observation joe!" - you fought through the pain

"i guess the mood swings don't go away during labor." - alexa laughed

"yeah i think we established that.. i'm gonna go. bye guys" - joe

"bye mom and dad!" - alexa

after joe hung up he stood up and walked back over to me.

he kissed my forehead again and grabbed my hand.

"you can squeeze my hand during your contractions." - joe smiled

"stop being so cute, i'm supposed to be mad at you for causing me this pain." - you

"hey it's not all my fault, you participated in the process just as much as i did. don't act like you didn't enjoy that process either." - joe quipped

"go back to the couch." - you rolled your eyes and dropped his hand

"you sure?" - joe

i was about to say yes when i got another contraction and grabbed joes hand, squeezing as hard as i could.

"please don't leave!" - you choked out

"im staying right here. don't worry, my love." - joe

*time skip*

"you're ten centimeters dilated, ready to start pushing?" - the nurse smiled

i looked at joe, a sudden rush of panic and excitement falling over me.

he gave me an encouraging smile so i turned back to the nurse and nodded.

i was transported to the delivery room and joe never left my side.

*time skip*

long hours of labor later i heard a baby crying and a loud gasp from joe.

a couple nurses rushed over to a corner, holding the first twin.

"be careful with him!" - you cried

not even 20 minutes later another set of cries were heard.

"oh my gosh.. they are so tiny. look how tiny they are, joe." - you basically sobbed

"i know.." - joe smiled back to you

once the babies were cleaned off just a little bit the nurses placed both of them on my chest.

"oh my god, you guys are so cute." - you cried

joe snapped a picture of me holding both of the babies.

"joe, we made them." - you smiled up at him

"we did didn't we. you did amazing by the way, i'm incredibly proud of you baby." - joe

"i couldn't have done it without you by my side, baby..." - you

joe kissed my sweaty forehead before i pulled his face to mine, kissing his lips.

after a few more minutes of bonding with the twins, they were taken away to be weighed, measured, and various other things like that.

"joe can you get in bed with me?" - you

"what?" - joe laughed

"can you lay down with me? please?" - you

i scooted over slightly and joe laid down next to me, my head leaning onto his shoulder.

"i can't believe we made life." - you

"i know, and thank you." - joe

"thank you? for what?" - you chuckled

"for carrying the babies for 9 months, and giving birth. you're a strong woman y/n." - joe

"you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world every day joe. you're the best husband ever." - you

one thing about our relationship is that we were deeply appreciative of the other, and how amazing they were.

i wrapped my arms around joe and moved my head from his shoulder to his chest.

i took a little nap till joe woke me up when the twins were given back to us because i was utterly exhausted.

my parents flew down as soon as joe called them and said i was in labor so they arrived shortly after the babies were given to us.

joe was holding a baby, and i held the other.

"you're so tiny... i love you." - joe

"you look really really good holding a newborn, shiesty." - you smiled

"look at him, he's so stinkin cute!" - joe

"we need to establish names, we can't keep calling them him and he." - you

"okay well.. we know the names so now we can just pick which ones which." - joe laughed

"okay... uhm. i think i know." - you

"i think i do too." - joe smiled

before we could even say anything the door opened and at least 4 people walked in.

it was my parents and alexa and ja'marr.

"oh my gosh!" - alexa gasped

"my baby is a momma.." - your mom teared up

"aww, momma." - you smiled

"my baby girl had twins.." - your dad also started to cry

"what are the names?" - your mom smiled

i whispered into joe’s ear for confirmation about which twin was being named what name.

he nodded and i went on.

"i'm holding Tyson Lee" - you smiled

"lee is joe’s middle name right?" - your mom

"yeah, it was really important to me that one of the twins was going to be named after one of the most important guys in my life." - you smiled

in the corner of my eye i could see joe looking at me and when i returned the look a tear fell down his cheek before a huge smile appeared on his face.

it seemed like neither of us could stop smiling.

"this is so sweet.." - alexa

"what's the other name?" - your mom

"joe, baby you can say." - you

"the baby that i'm holding is named Miles Anthony." - joe smiled at ja'marr

"wait-" - ja'marr

alexa looked at the two confused before it clicked, and her hands covered her mouth.

"you named your kid after me?" - ja'marr

"ja'marr anthony chase.. meet miles anthony burrow" - joe

ja'marr walked closer to joe and looked down at miles.

"damn bro." - ja'marr sniffled

the whole room laughed at ja'marr being somewhat emotional; a side no one sees of him.

once everyone stopped crying the twins were passed around and everyone got to hold them before they were returned back to joe and i.

when ja’marr was holding miles and alexa was holding tyson, ja’marr cleared his throat and faced joe.

“i mean we got our next qb’s they just need a wide receiver.” - ja’marr

“if you have a boy in the future we gotta train em. we gotta keep the ‘burrow to chase’ connection going.” - joe

“it’s a good thing we won’t have to wait too long.” - ja’marr looked at alexa and smiled

“what do you mean?” - joe

one of my hands went over my mouth as my other slapped joe’s arm in shock.

“i’m pregnant. with a boy, too.” - alexa smiled

“no freaking way!” - joe

“how far along are you?” - you grinned

“3 months.” - alexa smiled

“congratulations guys, that’s awesome!” - joe

they stayed for awhile longer, we talked about all the things we wanted to do with our boys once they were older before they left.

the twins were back in joe and i’s arms and soon after there was another knock on the door.

when the door opened, joe’s parents with wide grins on their faces.

robin let out a small gasp as she walked closer to joe and i.

"oh my gosh… they're so perfect. jim look, they look so much like joe.” - robin

“sorry guys.” - joe whispered to the twins

“don’t listen to your daddy guys, he’s the most attractive man in the world and a total heartthrob. tons of women have eyes on him.” - you smiled

in my peripherals i could see joe roll his eyes but the blush on his cheeks told me that he appreciated the compliment.

“the only women’s eyes i want on me are yours, baby.” - joe kissed your cheek

jimmy and robin both got to hold each of the babies before the nurse came in and said that i could leave tomorrow morning.

it was around 9 pm when everyone had left and it was just joe and i.

the babies were in their bedside bassinets and joe was laying on the couch, giving me "personal space" in the hospital bed.

"joe you can go home if you want, i know you'd like to shower and wash your hair with your fancy shampoo and conditioner." - you

"are you crazy? you think i'm gonna leave this hospital?" - joe

"i don't know, i just figured you'd want to go home eventually." - you

"the only time i'm leaving is with you tomorrow morning." - joe

"are you sure?" - you

"absolutely sure, now get some rest baby. if the twins wake up i'll take care of em', you just need to rest." - joe

i shut my eyes and fell asleep extra grateful. i had an amazing husband, and beautiful healthy twin baby boys.

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authors note: fluffy imagine for friday 🫶🫶

hope you enjoyed! ❤️

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow series

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msbigredmachine · 6 months

Text

Power Couple: The Aftermath (Roman Reigns)

When the Tribal Chief falls, no one helps him back up better than you do. Set after the epic main event of Wrestlemania XL.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Warnings: Excess fluff and of course, smut.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Yes, I'm still in my feelings, and there was only one pairing I could properly convey my feelings with, because this has also been their story all along. For new readers, I strongly suggest reading the first two one-shots before delving into this one. Hope you enjoy!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

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1,316 days.

All wiped away with three slaps of the referee’s hand to the hard canvas.

Even after Cody rolled away from him, Roman could not move. Hell, he couldn’t breathe. Not when the air had been punched out of his lungs, literally and figuratively. It was only when Dwayne pulled him out of the ring by his pants leg that his body managed to kickstart itself into some sort of motion. And even then, all he could do was turn his head to look back and watch as Cody celebrated in the ring with his wife Brandi, holding his title belt aloft for the whole world to behold as the ultimate symbol of his victory.

It should have been you and him up there. It should have been him. Again. But it wasn’t. Because the one time he got careless in battle, it cost him everything. Throwing years of hard work down the drain.

And it made him sick to his stomach.

The sound of ‘Kingdom’ blaring through the Lincoln Financial Field Stadium was torture to the former champion’s ears. His legs felt like lead as he dragged his battered body up the ramp, ignoring Dwayne’s baseless, performative complaints about nothing, as he put distance to the tableau of triumph of his opponent. The weight of this defeat was heavy, suffocating even, and he was desperate to get the fuck out of there, to get out of Philadelphia, out of Pennsylvania and all its environs. As he reached the top of the vast WrestleMania stage, pain surged through his abdomen, forcing him to recoil into himself and double over in pain.

His Wise Man noticed his plight and paused to observe his charge. "My Tribal Chief, are you alright? Do you need-"

Roman shook his head. "I'm fine,” he snapped, willing himself to keep walking until he made it past the curtain. He leaned against the wall and bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

“What can I do, my Tribal Chief?” Paul implored.

“Just…get my wife on the bus and make sure everything’s ready to go. I’ll be there soon."

“Right away my Tribal Chief,” Paul replied eagerly, scurrying off to do as he was told.

It was a good long minute before Roman managed to pull himself back upright, staggering towards his locker room. Walking was so hard, his body hurt so much, but none of it hurt as much as the gut punch of failure. Much worse than any of the bumps he took was the shame, the disappointment engulfing him; so much so that he couldn’t bear to look anyone else in the eye right now.

Because he had failed everyone who cared about him.

He had failed you.

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All good things come to an end. That’s how the saying goes, right? The interesting part of that was that on the surface, it was a throwaway little trope, harmless and benign, until something that meant a great deal to you got taken away in the blink of an eye, or in this case, a three-count. The moment the bell signaled the pinfall that confirmed your husband's time as the Undisputed WWE Universal Champion had come to an end, you knew he would never be the same again.

It wasn't unlike Roman to be a little on edge weeks before a big premium live event. And given the nature of the two main event matches he was locked in for the fortieth annual WrestleMania, you expected he would be grouchy. But this time around seemed different, and not in a good way. He’d been surly towards everybody, including you. He disappeared for hours working out obsessively. He’d even thrown out a female member of the press who had dared to boo him at the press conference on Saturday night. Now, despite the final match of the weekend concluding nearly an hour ago, Roman was yet to return to his tour bus. That only meant one thing; he was not taking this defeat well, and it was up to you to lift him up, like you always did.

When you found the door boasting your husband's name, Heyman was outside, pacing back and forth. The Undisputed title, which you had grown accustomed to seeing on his shoulders on behalf of his Tribal Chief, was missing; a stark, prickly reminder of the outcome of tonight’s proceedings.

"That bad, huh?" you asked, reading the Wise Man’s expression in a second. In fact, he looked on the verge of tears, his shoulders sagging with despair. The weekend had taken an emotional toll on him, too.

"He won’t come out," he informed you, his usually confident voice shaky and helpless. “He won’t let anyone in and he won’t speak to anyone…”

You raised your index finger to cut him off. "Correction, he won’t speak to anyone that’s not me," you stated, shooting him a warm smile, one among countless others you had shared with him since burying the hatchet after years of friction between you. "Go be with your family, Paul. I’ll handle my husband.”

“He’s my family, too,” he declared softly, the conviction in what you used to call his beady eyes, palpable and heartbreaking, “Both of you are.”

Touched and at a loss for words, you could only look on as he turned around slowly and made the lonely walk down the hallway. Turning back to the locker room door, you sucked a breath between your teeth and blew it out, mentally preparing to confront this task head-on.

You knocked timidly and stuck your head inside. If Roman was in as foul a mood as Paul let on, even you did not want to be there. It had taken a few unfortunate incidents over the years for you to learn that even a kiss from his wife wasn't enough when he got too stressed. It never stopped you from trying, though. Kissing was one of your favorite things to do with him after all.

"Knock, knock," you called out softly, listening for signs of movement as you stepped inside and closed the door. The room that was bustling just a few hours ago was now stripped bare and cloaked in dead quiet. It was an eerie contrast to the majestic, sweeping grandiosity that encompassed his entrance to the ring tonight. “Babe?”

Venturing further inside the room, you found him on the couch, his strong, broad back to you, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. An open bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the coffee table in front of him. His ula fala was draped over the headrest, where his title belt would surely have been.

This was the reality no one warned you about after a monumental loss. It plunged you into a cold, dark abyss, wrought with biting silence and dreary loneliness now that the show was over and the lights were no longer bright. The what ifs, buts and maybes crooning in your ear like a morbid symphony. It was an experience all too familiar to you unfortunately, and recently, too; you and your husband had traveled down this terrible road following the tragic miscarriage of your son in the summer of 2022.

Stepping in front of him, you wiggled into his personal space and made yourself at home on his lap. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you sighed with relief when he instantly melted into you and his huge arms enveloped your waist, holding on to you like his life depended on it.

“My baby,” you cooed soothingly, the sound of your lips meeting the side of his head piercing through the emptiness of the locker room. “My love.”

The audible hitch of his breath at your soft words was expected. In the course of your lifetime, those two little phrases had garnered a poignant significance. As words of comfort and solace first uttered by your mother when you were a child, you murmured those words regularly to Roman between sweet, playful kisses when he was courting you, basking in the bliss of newfound love, and again as part of your wedding vows as you became man and wife. They were the first words you whispered to Laleia the first time she was placed in your arms. They were the words that you had cried yourself to sleep with as you mourned the baby boy you had lost. You and Roman had seen each other at your absolute best and worst, and now, in the isolation of this room, with just the two of you and nobody else, this was another bad moment you had to overcome.

“On Matt’s birthday, too,” Roman finally spoke, wiping at his nose with a sniffle. “Fuck, man.”

“I know,” you replied, running your hand comfortingly up and down his upper arm. As he met your gaze at last, you saw that his eyes were bloodshot. Seeing him like this broke your heart afresh. You held him as close as possible, willing all his pain and his hurt into your soul, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

"I fucked up," he breathed, his voice raw and choked with misery, "I fucked up out there, babe...I let Dwayne down...I let y'all down. I lost the title and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what? Over thirteen hundred days as champion?" you countered, "Nine WrestleMania main events? Billions of dollars in revenue? A roof over your child's head and three square meals a day? One loss will never wipe any of that away, don't ever get it twisted."

He exhaled tiredly as he hugged you tighter, resting his head on your shoulder. "I really wish I felt that way right now," he mumbled.

"It'll take some time, but you will," you asserted, running his fingers through his loose hair before tugging it lightly, making him look at you again. "Roman, you changed the industry, just like you said you would when we started this. No one will ever, ever forget what you've done these past four years. Be proud of all of it. You've been through so much, you sacrificed too much to not be proud."

Roman nodded in understanding. He just wished he didn't feel so down. "Baby, I...I want you to know how sorry I am. I know how much you wanted this. And I've been such a dick to you lately-"

You kissed your teeth and waved his apology away. "Nah. That don't matter no more. And I don't care that you didn't win. All I care about is you being safe when you're out there. Being healthy for our family and our daughter, who will be very happy to have her Daddy home, by the way. So we took an L. Okay, we'll only come back stronger. We had one bad night. Guess what? I plan on giving you a better morning, if you know what I mean." You rounded off your words with a wink, your heart blooming when he chuckled in response. "See, there's that smile I love so much. Keep your head up, baby. You did so good tonight. I couldn't be more proud of you."

Roman leaned into you, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in and filling his head with your scent. It was like breathing fresh air. “I love you, Y/N. I love you with all of my heart. I don’t deserve you, I never have.”

The tears you'd been fighting all night resurfaced, but you blinked them away as you captured his lips with yours, your hand sliding over the back of his neck. He clung to you, a different emotion quickly overtaking him as he returned your kiss with a bit of aggression, his tongue whipping hungrily against yours, savoring your mouth as though he was tasting it for the very first time. You surrendered to his every whim, your other hand raking through his hair then caressing gently down to his chest, resting your palm over the spot where his heart pumped for you. You could feel how much he needed this moment of intimacy, and you had no qualms giving him anything he asked for.

With one quick tug of your legs, Roman had you straddling him on the couch, bringing you chest to chest with your lush backside resting on his growing bulge. He paused for a moment to take a deep breath, then sealed your mouths again, his tongue invading, probing, a moan rumbling in his chest when you matched his energy, the emotions take over this loving embrace. He could never get enough of you, of the passion that overwhelmed him by your mere presence, immersing him in a love and gratitude he would always feel for you no matter what state of mind he was in.

Eventually, you pulled away from each other, breathless, panting, lips glistening with each other’s saliva. His heart raced at the familiar gleam in your darkened eyes. You weren’t done with him, not just yet, and this was confirmed as you slowly slid off him and sank to your knees between his spread thighs, pushing the front of his shirt up to expose his newly honed six-pack abs.

“Do you know how fucking hot you looked tonight, Daddy?” you purred to him, leaning in to run your tongue over the ridges of muscle on his taut belly. “Last night? All week? Do you have any idea of all the nasty shit I’m gonna do to you on the bus?”

Roman’s dick jumped in his joggers as his imagination ran wild. He squirmed in his seat, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as your tongue lapped at his belly, your mouth warm on his skin, all while you rubbed the fullness of his bulge straining eagerly against your touch. “Baby girl…” he choked out, as your fingers peeled the waistband of his pants, unveiling his big, beautiful brown dick.

“Hmm, commando. I like it,” you commented with a smirk, curling your fist around his turgid length.

“Babe, wait…ain’t Paul outside?”

“I sent him home. Plus, won't be the first time he's seen me suck you off.” Your small hand massaged his blunt, plum-shaped head as you licked a trail along the underside of his dick, enjoying the gasps of pleasure that he made. Licking up the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip, your mouth opened wider to take him in. He stared you down with an intense look in his dark irises, which soon fluttered shut as your lips wrapped tight around his flesh, his stomach tensing as he felt himself slide deeper inside. “Awww, fuuuck,” he moaned.

Pulling back for a second, you held his lust-filled stare and stroked his dick a little harder, giggling when it twitched in your grip. A defiant look clouded your eyes as you licked at his tip before pushing him back into your mouth. It was enough for him to nut by just watching you, the visual of your lips sliding slowly up and down his length, that sexy mouth of yours making sweet love to his dick. It felt so good that he sank further into the plush leather of the couch, his head rolling back lazily against the headrest, his toes curling inside his brand new Air Reigns sneakers. All the pain and punishment his body had endured tonight melted away and was replaced with much more pleasurable sensations.

“I love the way you suck my dick, wifey,” he praised you, forcing himself to observe you through his barely open eyelids. “Mmm, that slutty little mouth is warm as fuck…You so sexy, baby, keep lookin’ up at me like that...”

His raspy growls had you glancing back up at him, batting your pretty eyelashes as you sucked him off. Wetness pooled between your thighs at his famished expression. Completely aroused, you picked up the pace as your hands and your mouth worked in tandem, sucking and stroking his dick, pleasuring him from tip to base. His breathing became heavier as he throbbed against your tongue, his hands finding the back of your head as he got lost in the paradise of your warm, wet mouth.

“Damn, baby. I bet that pussy leakin’ for me right now. You gettin’ wet sucking Daddy off, beautiful?” he taunted, his tongue swishing over his bottom lip at the same time your tongue swirled around the base of his shaft. The little moan that escaped your throat told him he was right. Of course he was; he knew his wife better than anybody else. “Good girl. Keep goin', I want that pussy extra wet. I’ma lick all that shit up when we get on the bus.”

With another soft moan, you crawled closer to his body and bore down on him, bobbing your head up and down that long, fat cock. Scooping your hair up into his large fist for leverage, Roman rocked his hips upwards from his seated position, thrusting in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat to take him deeper, moaning around his dick and letting him know how much you were enjoying him fucking your face. You rolled his balls in your hand, caressing the heavy, tightened sac to send him over the edge. It was working, as he began thrusting faster, his husky groans of pleasure amplifying as he neared his release.

“Unnnhh, baby, here it comes…Fuck, open your mouth,” he gasped, not waiting for you to do so as he yanked you by your hair to free himself from your intoxicating mouth. You quickly opened wide as he grabbed his cock and jerked it desperately against your tongue. He caught sight of the glazed-over quality of your gaze, and he knew that your panties were completely ruined, your pussy dripping with your need for him. He planned to take care of that very soon.

It was a show more spectacular than Mania, the sight of his gorgeous face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the heavens as his orgasm washed over his big body. Your moans harmonized together with each spasm of his cum down your throat, making you swallow every drop he unleashed. His grip on your hair was tight and almost painful, but you were turned on anyway, aroused by the knowledge that no one brought him to this state of paramount pleasure like you did. Licking your lips, you scooped him back into your mouth to clean him up, released him with a soft pop when you finished, and tucked him back inside the confines of his joggers. You giggled as he stared dazedly at the ceiling, licking his lips to catch his breath, his big frame slack and helpless as he recovered from the intense orgasm.

"Goddamn, baby...Shit," he groaned.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stood up and sat back on his lap, welcoming the gentle press of his mouth to yours in a sweet, grateful kiss. “You feel better, Daddy?” you asked.

"Much better. I needed that so much. Thanks, baby," he smiled up at you, his stomach doing flips as you smiled back. He truly was the luckiest man in the world.

“Mm-hmm. Luckily, there’s more where that came from,” you assured him with another kiss before getting to your feet and pulling him up to his. “Come on, Daddy. Let's go home. We got a toddler to take care of. We'll figure out all the other stuff when it's time."

He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand. “Okay, baby. Home it is.”

A new chapter in your story had been opened tonight, and the path ahead seemed uncertain and even scary. But you both took pride in the fact that as long as you kept writing it together, your love story was going to remain as beautiful as it already was.

But make no mistake about it; Roman Reigns was going to rule the wrestling world again. That was one story that was never going to end.

THE END

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Thoughts? How sappy was this😢Was quite cathartic for me, loved writing it.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

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#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #the bloodline #wrestlemania #wrestlemania 40 #power couple #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black reader #the tribal chief

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