#i may like gold better but idk if it looks better on me

[cas-backwards-tie]

This or That

tagged by: @indigosunsetao3 I always love these things, so thank you so much for tagging me! ❤️

Coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

tagging: @waves-against-a-cliff , @lxvvie , @itsaconquestofimagination , @void-my-warranty , @glossysoap , @mrsparrasblog , @guac-the-joaqu , @penelopepine , @lovebugcody

[freaky-flawless]

speaking of Cupid I also don’t like how they did the black gradients, it looks weird that only her legs have them and the pattern looks weird too, I think its cause its too thin

Yeah the gradient could be a lot better...it isn't as gradual and soft as her G1 version and it looks really out of place since it isn't on her arms as well. Its actually a little jarring since she has so little black in her outfit.

And the pattern on her legs is a little strange. Pretty on its own, but its so delicate and intricate it also just looks a bit out of place. Hopefully it doesn't rub off easily.

[luveline]

also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“No thanks.” 

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.” 

“I’ll have socks.” 

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?” 

“Why?” 

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?” 

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists. 

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon. 

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout. 

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.” 

“‘Xactly,” Amy says. 

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.” 

“No shoes,” Amy says. 

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?” 

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck. 

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.” 

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.” 

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!” 

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then. 

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.” 

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”  

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it. 

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough. 

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs. 

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.” 

[lewisvinga]

that’s my girl | lance stroll x fem! reader

summary; lance’s fans hated y/n for her personality and willingness to defend him and herself at any cost. however, their views on her change when a fan meets her and posts all about it

fc; tara yummy

warnings; suggestive comments

taglist; @namgification

note; requested! i’ve been obsessed w tara yummy lately but yall my requests are closed atm, i’ll open them soon once i finish w the requests i have rn 😫 so pls bear w me n be patient 🙏

masterlist !

liked by lance_stroll, lilymhe, and others!

yourusername: my man bought me chanel. sick.

username: not her not tagging lance…

yourusername: don’t want people looking at what’s mine 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lance_stroll: acting like you weren’t begging for a bag and a pair of shoes🤣

yourusername: not u exposing me 😩

lance_stroll: just telling the truth 🤫

lance_stroll: anything for my girl❤️

yourusername: wahhh

username: i wanna be like y/n

yourusername: to be like y/n, u gotta have the y/n mindset 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

username: she ate this tho icl

username: ugh i don’t like her, she’s such a gold digger and it’s so obvious

yourusername: gold digger is when girl receives bags from millionaire boyfriend🤕

username: she’s so ugly and unclassy, idk why lance is dating her

yourusername: you’re pretty unclassy, but while we’re at it, lance just made out w me 😁😁

lilymhe: WOWWWW you’re so hot i can treat u better than him

yourusername: i can treat u better than alex bae

liked by lance_stroll, carmenmmundt, and others

yourusername: i 🖤 st tropez

username: here she goes again w the not tagging him💀💀💀

yourusername: big deal , i’m literally sitting on him and he watched me post this 🥱🥱

username: THE SECOND PICTURE???? IS SO???😩😩😩😩😩

username: omg the second picture i’m gonna go crazy

username: who even took the last picture?

yourusername: my boyfriend 🔥

lance_stroll: beautiful as always😍

yourusername: gonna give you a big fat kiss

username: i actually like her but he’s all daddy’s money, she should date some other driver who earned his spot

yourusername: LMFAOOO, babe most drivers on the grid ARE nepo babies and come from rich families 💀 yall just mad that lawrence is a loving father 🤕🤕

username: she ate this one thing up

username: i love her idc attitude idk

username: i don’t! she’s so mean and disrespectful to lance’s fans, it’s so nasty

yourusername: no i just defend myself and lance, maybe if yall weren’t coming at my neck every 5 seconds i’d be nicer 🥱🥱

carmenmmundt: GORGEOUS 😍

yourusername: NOOO YOUU😩

liked by lance_stroll, yourusername, and others

f1wagupdates:

a fan met y/n l/n while in new york city! she said that y/n was super nice, complimented her outfit, and even introduced her to lance! turns out the black cat of the paddock is super sweet!

tagged; yourusername, lance_stroll

username: her smile :( she looks so sweet

username: ugh i love her idc what yall think

username: omg omg i was that girl, she even gave me her lip gloss bc i asked about the shade😩

yourusername: lmk what u think bb bc the formula is so chefs kiss

username: omg shes in nyc??? i need to meet her nowww

yourusername: for a couple more days, may or may not pop up in saks tmrw at noon🤭

username: y’all were just bitter she’s dating your fave!! y/n will always be her

username: u could never catch me hating on mother

yourusername: i promise you guys i’m not scary😩😩 i’ll just defend my man or myself whenever 🤷‍♀️

lance_stroll: y/n is the sweetest girl i’ve ever met. she’s made me the happiest man ever. hating on her means hating me. i would take legal action against some people who leave nasty comments but y/n’s against it. she’s the best girl i could ever ask for. liked by yourusername, f1wagupdates and others!

lance_stroll: but that’s my girl ❤️

lance_stroll: and that ladies and gentlemen is how to make the y/n l/n giggle

yourusername: STOP EXPOSING ME😖

[tadpolesonalgae]

Dizzying Kisses

Feysand x reader

a/n: this started out so wholesome idk what happened 😭

warning: love at first sight trope; smut; f/f/m threesome; facesitting; oral (everyone); overstim; cumplay—Rhys using reader’s mouth like a shot glass 

word count: 5,491

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It takes a bit of effort to unstick your eyelids from your lash line, but you eventually manage, rubbing at the sleep that’s crusted itself into an abrasive adhesive. 

The sheets beneath you are soft and smooth, fragranced with something like vanilla and jasmine, a faint citrusy scent clinging to its edge and you wearily peer about, vision slightly blurred by a sleep addled brain. 

Early morning sunlight has painted itself across the floorboards in a watery shade of cool-toned yellow, the diamond shaped panes of the glass windows casting thin, zigzagging shadows. The duvet itself seems to be cream covered, nestled beneath a rouge-rimmed quilt, stitched together with patches of dawn-pink, aquamarine-blue, dusky-orange, and tyrian-purple. Four wooden beams uphold the fabric draped overtop the bed, the curtains a shade of burnt orange on the interior, with a dark-red outside that has panels of maroon gossamer thinly veiling the material. A slight frill of burnished gold accents the hem.

A latch clicks from the far right side of the chamber, and you glance away from the window, blinking rapidly to clear away the fog as a female peers her lovely head around the door. 

Not just any female, though. 

You stiffen, hastily scrambling to sit straighter in the bed as you dip your head in a swift bow. “High Lady…” 

She smiles, entering the room, her slipper-clad feet softly scuffing as she approaches. “You’re awake,” she notes, and you flush when she lays her palm across your forehead. “And better, by the looks of it.”

You blink, looking up at her quietly. “My Lady…?” 

“Feyre,” she corrects, blue-grey eyes twinkling with life. “Please call me Feyre.” 

You watch her silently for a second, attention flitting across her features for a clue to your circumstances—are you in her home? But you dip your head again, obeying her request. 

Her eyes soften, and she pulls her hand away, your brow feeling faintly cool in its wake. “Do you remember last night?” She questions, and you shake your head, unease building in your gut as you worry your lower lip. Tuck your teeth away again. 

Feyre hums to herself, her attention briefly skating over you, having not given herself the chance to beforehand. Skimming over your shoulders, the rumpled fabric of your night-gown, the soft roundness of your fingertips. How they’re dipping into the folds of the duvet. “You kissed me,” she says, glancing down at you, lips still curved gently. Mortification sets your skin ablaze, a delicate flame igniting in your flesh. “I— I kissed you?” You stammer, clutching the sheets as your fingers lock. 

“Well, you kissed both of us, actually,” she corrects. 

Your lips part with a sharp inhale, looking aghast. Deeply apologetic. “I— I’m so sorry, my Lady. I don’t know what must have come over me. Please, forgive—”

“We aren’t angry,” she interjects, holding you gaze firmly. She pries your left hand from the quilt, fingers warm and delicate beneath your own. “I believe it was a mistake on your part—the first time at least. Shall I show you? It may jog your memory.” 

There’s nothing much for you to do besides nod, vaguely relaxing back into the padded headboard as she plies open your mind, slipping inside with ease. 

The music is up-beat, strings playing a merry tune while the faelights shift in colour over head, panels of stained glass being slotted over them to give the illusion of the lights themselves changing. 

I turn my head when I feel weakened fingertips seek out my wrist, gripping gently, only to be met with soft, faintly trembling lips being pressed to my own. I recognise the hint of the illegal drug almost immediately, and my eyes widen in time to watch as the female flinches, recoiling sharply. 

At my back, my mate is swiftly approaching, a sure and familiar presence sweeping across the floor. It seems the female has enough sense left in her to recognise the thrumming power of the High Lord that’s already begun seeping across the floor in warning, other fae bodies instinctively making way so as not to catch his brewing mood. 

Instead of cowering though, the female before me seems to panic briefly, before unsteadily tottering forward, making it just close enough to push onto her tiptoes and press a kiss to the High Lord’s jaw, before her legs give out and I’m catching her as she falls back, body limp. 

Surprised violet eyes meet my own, brows raised as he glances down at the female passed out in my arms, head tipped to the side, laying across my breast. 

Your lips are parted wider than they were last, but you don’t shut them. Instead panicking as the memories filter back into your mind, along with a faint pound of a growing headache. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, words tumbling in a frantic wash. “I— I remember seeing what had happened, and I had worried he might think I was trying to— So I wanted to kiss him to show I didn’t mean— Gods I’m so sorry.” An embarrassed flush heats your skin, simmering wickedly just below the surface of your flesh, head dipped in misery and shame. 

“It’s perfectly okay,” the High Lady assures, squeezing your fingers. “I want you to know the male who drugged you has been found and dealt with—he will not be repeating his actions. We also had our healer check the concentration in your blood to make sure you were okay, and thankfully all you needed was a good night’s sleep to get everything out of your system.”

You flush, glancing to where she’s cupping your fingers, then looking at her again. “I’m still sorry for kissing you—both of you—even if there were external pressures…”

Feyre blinks slowly, her smile losing an ounce of its warmth. Barely noticeable, really, but you feel it. “Do you regret it?” 

“I regret causing you discomfort, my L—” Her eyes harden, and you flush. “…Feyre. And your— and for kissing your mate…” 

“And what about on your end?” She asks, tone softened only a little. You look at her questioningly but are unable to read the emotion in her blue-grey eyes. Cunning but deliberately blank. “Do you regret kissing either of us for your own discomfort?” 

“No!” You speak hurriedly. “It’s an honour. I mean, hopefully that doesn’t make you upset to hear. I simply mean, to have been so close with either of you. I’m just so sorry I did what I did… How I did it…” 

“You would have done differently had you been sober?” She asks, her hold tightening on your fingers, pulling your hand closer into her body. 

You hesitate, fumbling. Glancing where her digits have begun twining with your own. 

Feyre follows your gaze, and sighs, hands settling to the bed. 

“My mate and I are divided on the matter,” she tells you, voice lowering to a hushed murmur. A guilty tug on her pretty pink lips. “He would rather give you space and time to warm up to us, since this meeting has happened so fast.” Fingers again squeeze your own, and she looks up at you with a glimmer in her heavy gaze. “But I’ve been on the end of that before, and hadn’t been pleased with his choices.” 

You scan her features, trying to fit together the pieces but have the distinct feeling you’re missing something crucial. A fragment of memory that perhaps hasn’t yet allowed itself to resurface. Eyes flit to the curl of her digits between your own. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand?” 

Feyre pauses in thought, then she presses her hand to your cheek, unlacing it from your fingers. Breath flutters in your chest as your High Lady leans in, her head tilted enough so her lips might slant diagonally across your mouth, and a faintly wavy lock of hair slides from her shoulder, tickling against your collar bones. You can feel each faint exhale. Mark how her pupils dilate, lashes flickering as she glances down at your mouth. 

Your breath catches as something tugs at your rib, a small, tender thread wrapped around the delicate bone. 

“Did you feel that?” Feyre questions, thumb stoking the curve beneath your lip, eyes following with each swipe. “What…what was…?” 

It happens again, and your lungs stutter, mouth parting in awe as you stare at her. 

You worry over voicing your thoughts for fear of reaching the wrong conclusion and only worsening your predicament. To be as brazen as to suggest a possibility that would defy logic and reason, when it’s likely fuelled by your own desires… 

Feyre lays her mouth over your own, the flavour of her lips slightly musky with a hint of berry, and you wonder if she delighted in fruits for breakfast. Perhaps would like to swipe your tongue across the seam of her mouth to taste more of her. To sample more of this delicacy you’ll surely never have the chance of trying again. 

A heady sound echoes in your Lady’s throat when you follow through with your fantasy. Her fingers dig into the soft underside of your jaw, both hands cupping your face to leverage her mouth closer, capturing your lower lip between her teeth and tugging on it gently. She’s close enough you can feel the faint flutter of air that her lashes bat your way. 

Blue-grey eyes simmer with heat as she watches you, thumb stroking across the crest of your cheek before falling to the side of your neck, fingers sifting through strands of hair. With great attentiveness, she strokes her tongue across your own, her heart jumping when your body jolts lightly from the intimate touch, a lovely soft sound captured in your throat. 

Her hands begin to wander. 

At first it’s her thumb skimming across your throat, then she’s grazing her fingertips along the ridge of your collarbone, and then before you know it she’s trailed those nimble digits further, tracing the curve of your breast, knuckles skimming beneath the soft, feminine weight. Your lashes flutter against her cheek, before you’re pulling away to gaze down at where she’s touching you. 

Feyre watches intently to see what you make of the touch. Heat warms your cheeks and your lips part on a trembling inhale, spine curving in an offer—one she’ll contentedly accept. The soft pad of her second finger teasingly circles your covered nipple, before clasping it between the sides of her index and middle finger, rolling. Your breathing deepens, sinking down into the pillows, subtly urging her to lay herself over you. 

It’s when Feyre’s knee is pressing between your thighs, her faintly wavy hair ticklishly brushing your exposed skin—where she’s unbuttoned your night gown to bare your breasts to her—that a firm set of knocks are delivered to the door, a warning rather than a request. Your eyes fly open, arms instinctively slapping across your chest to conceal your breasts, nipples sensitive, and freshly-licked. 

Violet eyes calmly take in your own, and the night comes rushing back, how you’d kissed his mate—accidentally, but it had happened nonetheless—then pressed your lips to his own skin, too. 

You open your mouth to apologise, but Feyre’s talented fingers have linked around your wrists, and you squirm when she pushes them aside, so they sink into the pillows you’re lying on. Expelling a gasp from your lips. 

“Looks like the two of your are becoming well acquainted,” the High Lord muses, stepping into the room, pausing beside the bed, gazing down at you with interest. “Do you mind my being here?” He asks, and you realise he’s bothering to question you. It makes sense, you suppose, you just hadn’t considered it. You flush, but shake your head, lungs stuttering when Feyre returns to your breasts, circling the hardened tip of her tongue over the peak of your right nipple, allowing a small amount of saliva to build before letting it unspool onto you, before repeating the circles. 

“You look to be enjoying her mouth,” Rhysand muses, raising the backs of his fingers to gently skim your cheek, thumb idly swiping the corner of your mouth, dipping to the hollow beneath your lower lip. “Are you?” 

Your flush deepens, thighs squeezing together against Feyre’s knee at the softly intimate touch, something fluttering beneath your ribs from the gentleness of the High Lord’s caress. Teeth pull at the interior of your lip, struggling to get a hold of the wild heat they’re igniting in your lower belly, a tingling feeling spreading between your thighs. 

“Getting shy now?” Feyre coos, unlatching from your nipple much to your dismay. “You were perfectly talkative before… He’s not as scary as he looks.” 

“Scary?” Rhys parrots under his breath, a note of incredulity to be found. Feyre raises an eyebrow as she glances over him, as if challenging him to disagree. But his lips fashion themselves into a mischievous, feline grin, capturing your chin with his fingers, directing your gaze upward to face him. “Would I be less scary without all these clothes on?”

Your face burns, lips parting on a softly stunned inhale, staring up at him in slight bewilderment, his words alone giving rise to a series of involuntary images careening through your mind before you can stop from conjuring them. 

“Rhys,” Feyre scolds, “you’re overwhelming her. She doesn’t know what to do with all that.”

“We can show her.” 

“Rhysand,” Feyre warns, but you can tell it’s playful. You want her attention back on you, sliding a little further down in the pillows so her knee is pressed closer between your legs. Blue-grey eyes mark the shift immediately, and you flush at having been caught, grip tightening in the sheets as you find elsewhere to look. Her rosey lips curve, leaning closer until they’re barely brushing your own, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Something you want, birdie?” 

You inhale at her proximity, spine stiffening from how close she is, how bare you are beneath her. How exposed. 

You incline your chin almost imperceptibly. 

Feyre smirks, and leans in, once again sealing her lips over yours, and you think she must be a slice of heaven. Your hands depart from the sheets, travelling up her thighs to her hips, spanning her delicate waist. Her hair tickles your shoulder, trailing away when Rhys’s fingers shift the curtain of silky hair, pushing the locks gently out of the way so he can see how his wife is kissing his…

A small noise is captured between your mouths when something tugs at one of your ribs, a delicate thread being plucked that has you jolting. Pulling away. 

“A second mate is unheard of,” Feyre murmurs, looking at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “And yet here she is,” Rhys finishes, making you blink, glancing between the two. 

“You said you were honoured,” Feyre continues, drawing your attention back to her. “Are you still of the same mindset?” You stare at her, comprehension dawning as you accept your belief as truth, fantasy merging with reality. “What she’s asking,” Rhysand clarifies, allowing his fingers to fall from Feyre to graze across you collar bone, tracing upward to your jaw, brushing your cheek, “is will you have us.”

“Yes.” It’s softer than a whisper, shorter than a breath, but they feel it. Feel the acceptance without reluctance or hesitation. Falling into their arms.

Feyre’s eyes go briefly hazy as it clicks into place inside of her, a flush of colour rising to her cheeks with biological satisfaction. “Good,” she breathes, “perfect.” 

Her scent has shifted, floating over to you, and instinct tells you exactly what it means. When her blue-grey eyes return to yours, they’re dilated; hungry. Information you should have no access to flowing into your body, innately understanding their states of being. 

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asks, voice huskier than before, dragging with arousal. A heat has begun sprouting in your body, beginning to simmer and bubble, more prominently than before, abruptly taking off. You swallow. Nod your head. 

“What you’re feeling,” Rhysand supplies smoothly, the only one able to grapple with the biological instincts urging you together as the one who understands it the most, “is the effects of the mating bond clicking into place. Since our bond,”—he gestures between him and Feyre— “is already set in place, the symptoms will make themselves known much more swiftly, while yours may take a few hours or even a day to reveal themselves.” 

Right. The frenzy. 

You flush. 

“Do you—” Feyre swallows, cutting herself off before trying again, having to wet her lips, “do you want to join us?” 

“Join you?” You’re breathless. 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to manage between us, if you would like to rest,” Rhysand supplies, though you have the impression it strains on him to give that safety net. As if reminded of the option, Feyre’s eyes flick to him, hungrily tracing the cut of his figure, watching with a heavy-lidded gaze. You shift your hips against her knee, and they return to you. 

In your periphery Rhysand readjusts his trousers. 

“Will you?” She breathes, her hand rising from the mattress, shifting her weight to her other arm to allow her fingers to coast upward between your breasts, playing with the dip of your collarbone, tracing the outline. “We’ll be careful,” she assures, fingers now tracing across your lower lip, transfixed as her instincts call for her to strip you bare, explore the flavour of your mouth and skin; the taste between your legs. 

“We could start with just one of us?” She tells you, your heart fluttering wildly as her words drip over your skin. “You and me first…”

“Greedy,” Rhys mutters.

“Rhys can watch,” she amends. “We can play in my and his bed—it’s much larger than this one—and I could start with these…” You gasp when she lowers her hand to your breast, circling your nipple with a feather-light touch, tugging on it gently. “Then we could move further…” Feyre takes your wrist in hand, moving to straddle your hips as she brings your palm to her chest, watching you intently as her spine curves into your touch. “And you could try touching me, if you like…? Would you like that? Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“She needs a chance to respond, Feyre,” Rhys chuckles, leaning against one poster of the large bed. She peers at you intently, rocking her hips almost subconsciously. “You’ll feel so good,” she whispers, bringing your other hand to cup her breast so you have both palms over her. “What do you think?” 

Your flush deepens, looking away, and you can feel Feyre’s grip loosening, crestfallen. 

“I…” You swallow, finding her gaze again, her expression attentive, then glancing briefly over Rhys, nerves wriggling beneath your skin before you look away again, peering at the floor. “I don’t want Rhys to feel left out…” 

You inhale sharply at the stark arousal that blares down the bond, your thighs squeezing together in response, Rhys shifting as he takes down a steadying breath. A noise escapes your throat with the staggering awareness the bond is affording you, able to feel their hunger in your bones, perhaps also affording you a little more confidence than usual. 

“We’re all mates, aren’t we?” You ask, glancing skittishly between them both. When they nod, you continue. “So I’d like…I think it would mean more to be with both of you…all together.” 

————

They make you so dizzy. 

The soft press of Feyre’s narrow lips dragging up the length of your throat, nipping at spaces below your jaw, licking over the bite marks they’ve each put into your skin, forgetting which ones belong to who; the heavy drag of Rhys’ fingers as they dip along the interior of your thighs, palms cupping the round curve of your knees only to slip beneath and delicately raise both legs to your chest; the heat of watching clothes fall to the ground, buttons coming free and ties being loosened, hair pushed back over delicate shoulders and sterling silver bands removed from scar-flecked fingers, flexing before they settle into the rhythm of touch. 

You crawl after Feyre as she pulls away, pushing her second and middle finger to your lips to still you, her own mouth curving with feminine satisfaction. And now the question she’ll ask: “Who do you want next?” 

How many times have they taken turns making you answer that question. How many times have you shamelessly given an answer. How many times have they satisfied your desire only to ask again, “Who do you want next?” 

Always a next; never an end. 

You whimper, clit puffy and sensitive from relentless stimulation, pleasure budding through your body, liquid gold buzzing beneath your skin. How many more touches can you take? 

“Answer me,” Feyre coos, fingers slipping beneath your chin to incline your lips, leaning forward to almost meet you. “Who do you want next?”

“Feyre…” You’re nearly crying, so turned around, so dizzy. So desperate for movement and friction. “Please…” The High Lady beams, cupping your cheeks between her palms and pulling you close enough your noses touch, “mhmm? You want me?” 

“Please…” 

“How do you want me?” Feyre crawls closer, her knees touching your own, “Tell me how you want me.” Your lips part, cheeks flushing. Tongue shifting against your teeth. You’re too embarrassed to tell her. 

Tender claws scratch at your mind, and your walls give a few moments later, tentatively lowering enough for her to slip inside and nestle with you. Watching the image you present her with. 

Blue-grey eyes glitter with hunger, her mouth popping open, blinking away her surprise before grinning. “I didn’t think you’d be so dirty,” Feyre purrs, palms wrapping around your waist to pull you with her as she falls back into the bed, walking you up her body. 

“Are my girls done scheming?” Rhys asks from behind you, effortlessly sending a hot shiver up your spine. His voice alone contains enough power to make your knees buckle. And, my girls. You and Feyre. He’s seeing the two of you together. 

You rest your hands on the headboard, leaning forward enough that Feyre can grin at her mate from beneath you, “We’ll always be scheming, High Lord.” Her legs open, and your mouth waters. “Think you can keep up, Rhys?” 

“Always, for you.” Feyre’s hands begin to loop over your hips to pull you down but Rhysand reaches forward and you gasp when you feel his thick fingers skating up the line of your spine, hairs prickling as you shiver. “You, too,” the High Lord purrs, pushing your hair to one side so he can reach the top of your spine. Your throat closes up, heart fluttering as those deft digits descend down the knots of your back. Stiffening in anticipation when he pauses at the base. “Turn around,” he instructs, clearly. “I should be able to see you, too.” 

The hot breath of Feyre’s moan caresses your inner thigh, and you tighten around nothing. With flushed cheeks you slowly turn, careful of the female lying beneath you. 

Violet eyes glimmer with starlight, and millions of tiny, fluttery wings erupt into motion between your thighs. 

“Better,” he says, quietly. A faint smile on his soft mouth. “Now sit.” 

You part your legs, shakily sinking down onto Feyre’s mouth, Rhysand keeping your eyes locked with him—watching as you settle, watching as your hands find placement on her breasts, watching as Feyre licks up through your centre and you shudder. An adoring smile half-lifts one edge of Rhysand’s lips, his irises softening at their edges as he marks the pleasure unfolding within you. Only then do his thumbs press into the meat of Feyre’s thighs, finding the divot at the interior of her knees to hold them apart, aligning himself, and sliding in. 

You can’t help the way your mouth waters. 

Rhys catches you staring and leans himself forward, grinning as you flush with embarrassment, “Wishing that was you?” 

Your lips part, eyes darting away but he grips your chin lightly, forcefully guiding your gaze back to his. He leans closer and you shudder as Feyre’s lips wrap around your clit, suckling tenderly. Rhysand’s hand cups the nape of your neck, and wild heat fills your skin as he slowly licks over your bottom lip, the tip of his tongue dragging over the bitten area to drag lightly over your top one.  You’re frozen stiff, completely at his mercy. He chuckles, like he finds your awe amusing. Lightly appreciative of your reverence. 

But then he kisses you once on the lips and pulls back, both palms falling to Feyre’s waist, his thumb grazing over the beauty mark that lies a little to the left of her belly button. His hips draw back and slide in, Feyre’s back arching when he meets her all the way, hips held tight to her own. You can’t help the way your fingers fall to graze over her abdomen, able to see the prominent outline of the High Lord nestled within his mate. 

He’s been inside you the same way he’s inside her. 

You have to lick your lips. 

“Move,” you whisper, circling your hips over Feyre’s mouth, almost certainly smearing arousal across her lips; the tip of her rosey nose; her chin. The High Lady moans her agreement, inclining her hips from the bed and you watch as the muscles in her thighs and stomach flex. Feline grace contained within her flesh. You want to taste every part of her you can. 

Rhys begins slowly, languidly moving inside of her, rolling his hips so he slides all the way in to his base. Soon enough he sets their pace, and your eyes nearly roll with the pleasurable warmth that’s being delivered to your body, fizzling and fluttering throughout. Heat is prominent on the High Lord’s cheeks, tan skin flushed with colour and you’re all so sensitive but needing of more that release is swift and fulfilling. Bright flashes of pleasure zipping down your thighs, bursts of heat fluttering in your lower belly, warm-pink flame heating and heating until you’re boiling and bubbling over. 

Rhys grits his teeth, likely trying to cope with the pleasure of Feyre’s orgasm, and you can’t help yourself. 

You lean forward, cunt still seated on the High Lady’s mouth, your palms sloping up his well-muscled chest to wrap over his shoulder to push your lips together, tongue licking against him, tasting him, devouring him. The High Lord’s control splinters, then fractures entirely, a groan of pure, male pleasure delivered to your mouth as he releases deep inside his mate. You want it to be as drawn out as possible, for him to fill her up as much as he can, until she’s dripping. 

It’s only when he’s panting, breathless and with his head lowered that you know he’s finished. 

Teeth prod into your lower lip, fresh arousal dripping from your cunt, cleaned away by Feyre’s tongue. Her fingers drum ticklishly over your thighs, knowing what you’ve been waiting for. You can practically see the smug, satisfied grin on her rosey lips. 

The combined effort of the both of you has you taking her place on the bed in mere seconds, lying on your back with a blinking Rhys now positioned between your thighs. Feyre mounts your mouth like she’s descending onto her throne, thighs parted and facing you so she can run her fingers through your hair. 

Rhysand freezes when he understands what’s going on. Then his warrior’s hands have shackled your ankles and you’re roughly dragged down the bed, swept out from under your mate and you whine, crying out and reaching for her. But there’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile on his mouth, mischief and hunger twinkling between the starlight. “I did all the work, darling,” he rumbles, the words rough and gravelly from his chest. “The least you can do is let me watch.”

You flush as you’re repositioned: half-way up the bed with Feyre hovering over your face, your mouth open and her legs spread; further up the bed is Rhys, gazing down at you so he can watch every stroke of your tongue, every drip of his cum that’s mixed with Feyre’s own orgasm that you collect on your lips, tasting in your mouth. 

“I should have known what you two were planning,” Rhys drawls, cock hard against his stomach from watching the show. He’s eaten his release out of Feyre before but it’s different watching someone else do it. It’s different having a mate to watch do it. “So dirty indeed.”

“And it was all her idea,” Feyre muses proudly from atop her perch. “You were so shy to show it to me,” she coos. 

“Looks like she’s a wicked one.” Violet eyes flick to Feyre. “She’ll rival you for your mischief.” 

“I think you mean she’ll rival you. You’re the dirty one.” 

Their eyes simultaneously drop, and you flush beneath their attention, hair spread out messily across the mattress, licking Feyre’s cunt whenever you please. Rhys’ fingers trail across your forehead, playing with a few stray strands of hair. “You like that? Tasting us together?” 

You moan softly, licking up and circling Feyre’s clit, causing her to moan. 

Butterflies start fluttering anew when Rhys wraps his hand around his cock, still achingly hard, cum beginning to drizzle down his tip. Your temperature spikes, mouth watering further. Rhys’ eyes twinkle, his mouth curving before he’s shifting onto his knees. “You know,” he muses, looming so comparatively high above you while Feyre keeps you pinned to the mattress, “let’s find out how dirty she is.”

Your thighs have to squeeze together at the blatant lust in his voice, clit pulsing as you rub your legs together.  

Violet eyes meet your own, and you shiver. Rhys grins. “You look pretty happy, down there.” You moan, licking at her hungrily, wanting her to stop hovering and to finally just sit. His hand continues stroking himself to the sign, up and down, slowly building his pleasure again. There isn’t much time you need to wait—you’re all so stimulated, so sensitive to touch. Rhys has to grit his teeth through the first series of strokes before the tension is being released and he’s panting again, muscles flexing in his stomach and forearms. 

“Think you can take some more?” Rhys groans, and you watch with desperate eyes as a bead of cum slips over his head. “Answer me.” 

You nod your head. “More,” you pant, watching him intently. Rhys’ eyes nearly roll, but then yours nearly cross as he shifts his hips, the tip of his cock nearly bumping into Feyre’s clit. He’s intending to finish straight into your mouth. 

You can’t help it, then. Your hand lifts from the bed and trails down your body, fingers slipping between your thighs. It’s a mix between painful and perfectly oversensitive, clit hard and puffy beneath your digits that slide right down your centre, two fingers sinking inside yourself and curling. 

It doesn’t take long from there. 

“Gods, you’re such a good girl,” Feyre praises, biting her lip as she palms her breasts, cupping them and thumbing across her nipples. “Isn’t she perfect, Rhys?” 

“So perfect.” He agrees. “So dirty.” 

You whimper in protest but Rhys cocks a brow and you shut up. He smirks. “So good, and so obedient, isn’t she?” 

“Perfect for us,” Feyre agrees, moaning as she circles her hips faintly, seeking the attention of your tongue which swiftly returns to attend to her, flicking over her clit and licking up her centre. “A perfect little mate to play with.” 

Rhys groans, the noise rumbling in his chest as his orgasm finds him at last, release pouring from his tip, shooting down between your lips and filling you up. His hip buck, his fingers flexing around his cock as pleasure pulses through his body, his eyes shutting tight as his muscles tremble. 

The tip of your finger drags back up over your clit and you come undone. 

Feyre watches, utterly content, as her two mates reach completion around her. She can just make out your eyes, half-rolled as your own high filters through your blood. Then there’s Rhys, whose hand is shaking as he pumps himself, hips seemingly moving of their own accord as he tries to keep himself going for as long as possible, throwing himself into overstimulation for the sake of your pleasure. 

She sits happily on your mouth when he’s done, his blue-black hair falling against her shoulder as hot breath fans down her front. 

How lucky they are to have found such a sweet, mischievous little mate to match them. 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

feysand taglist: @girlmadeofavocados @zara-aliza08

[tiamathh]

Walk Walk Fashion Baby

Hi girlies new year new style ykwim anyway this is a pac that i have been wanting to make for a long time but i was like idk how many ppl will like it etc but now idc about all that i want to have fun so here it is!! Have fun and stay hydrated. muah <33 also my paid readings are open there are a few slots (15) if anyone's interested xx ciao <3 like and rb if you like xx

Masterlist / Paid Readings + FB / Tip jar

Pile 1

Hi pile 1! You need to try that classical, timeless, style, i know it can be annoying to look at all the beige and muted tones but its so much more than that like, picture this, a tailored blazer or high-waisted trousers that fit like a dream. tbh I am also getting pearls for some reason so maybe adding neckklaces as accessories can be something you are interested in to incorporate in your style next year. Start with a simple white shirt, a fitted black dress, or a pair of cut jeans. Then you can accesorise with delicate gold bracelet, a black bag, or a string of pearls again with the pearls they are calling for you right nowww.

Moreover, another style you can incorporate is just as sharp, and elegant so like the whole academia aesthetic, regardless of light or dark that doesn’t matter but what I am trying to say is, clothes with shape. Like cinched wastes and just clothes that create shape for you are like something you really should give thought to. It’s about being comfortable but also looking effortlesss while doing it all, I think basics like camis, just plain shirts/tshirts are something you need more of in your closet because theres so many ways to style them other than just for formal wear. Like one style inspo is literally Proncess Diana cannot get more elgant than her istg, enjoy muah <33

Pile 2

Y’all this is my pile you guys are my PEOPLE ok to begin with you need to stop being afraid of colour and looseness like not everything has to be tight and fitted especially just because the microtrend world says so. Experiment with “loud” colours and different textures, things you may have thought are “odd” and don’t look good, because trust me the way it can all be pulled together is crazy and so much fun!! Layer, the most important part, stack rings and bracelets and go for those colours that lowkey hurt your eyes because fashion is about colour and pattern and texture and taking all of it out of fashion just makes it dull imo.

Start with a bright coloured tshirt, maybe something like yellow, then layer on, very “indie kid” aesthetic like the high saturation stuff. Mixed with that I am also getting maximalism to the MAX layer layer layer, stack stack stack you should look like a walking apparell store (kidding) seriously though if you have been feeling like you want to experiment with something like this and oxidised jewellery and mixing different styles mainly because all of your wardrobe is mismatched (me) then go for it because I promise it will come out looking way better than you may have imagined. 

Pile 3: 

Ooo I love this, okay so very romanticised, very coquette but not really, this is also the pile which will look so good in pastels in lighter colours. All I am getting in my head are those pictures of people on picnics in their flowy outfits and dresses looking so pretty and at peace, bows and dellicate bangles, just a very dainty aesthetic im thinking light fabrics and romantic fashion like lace-trimmed dresses, pastel skirts and floral prints, very fairytaile-ish. Ruffles or embroidery too and just magical overall. Also the complete opposite of pile 2 here, minimalist aesthetic may suit you a lot so try it out next year!

I am talking about keeping it simple, not too much with the accessorising and maybe a staple or statement accessory piece that goes with everything and anything you wear. Also for some of you with this simplistic style, you may have to be pushed to try on something more glam too like a bold red lip when it comes to makeup, like be bolder with your makeup experiment with more purples, pinks and reds while keeping the outfits simpler. 

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[holy-amelie]

idk if it just me being depressed, but I want to live in sunday's dream. Live of escapism with nothing but joy. But I too know it's unhealthy.

AE!reader where joining the crew is their escape from their home planet, so they understand sunday's point of view of things, and to remind him he's not alone and they can grow out of it together.

idk if this is considered trauma dump or not, but if you're uncomfortable, it's okay to not write this too.

lots of love and I hope you have a good day

'Escapism' sfw (Sunday)

...when the world is too cruel ˎˊ˗

·.༄࿔ characters: Sunday, you

·.༄࿔ pairing: Sunday x g/n!AE!reader

·.༄࿔ cw: no tw, fluff and hurt/comfort, non-native english author, written before 2.7, but contains spoilers/leaks, be careful! Can be ooc but this is how I see him at the moment. You are from the Astral Express here.

·.༄࿔ a/n: thank you fror your request! And don't worry, love, I totally understand that feeling 💔 Sometimes I wish I could live in his dream too

Escapism is a refuge for the weary soul, a sanctuary where reality melts away. 

You, more than anyone else on the Express, understand how much we sometimes just want to escape the cruel reality and dissolve into dreams of a better world. That's why, back on Penacony, something in you resonated with Sunday's words.

That incomprehensible promise of paradise he dreamed of so much and sought so desperately.

But no matter how good his intentions may have been, their realization was not… Healthy. Not at all. Trapping everyone in a big, perfect dream with no choice was wrong, you knew that. Even if it was what your heart desperately wanted - a chance to escape reality.

Sunday was mentally crushed after all his dreams of a perfect future without pain and suffering were shattered. It had undermined his whole motivation, his whole purpose in life so much, that he was ready to be destroyed along with those dreams.

Waking up was the hardest part.

"Is there still a paradise?" he whispered, looking out the window at the star-studded canvas of space. "Or is there no place for wounded souls to rest?"

Sunday shifted his gaze to you, his eyes — shining pools of gold filled with endless sadness for everyone lost and abandoned in their pain. Something you've never seen in anyone else. Since he joined the Express, you've talked a lot, sometimes spending nights with a cup of tea away from prying eyes and ears. Underneath the leader's facade was a vulnerable, sensitive soul that was gradually revealing itself to you.

"I don't think this paradise exists," you replied quietly. "But… Even if it doesn't exist, if it can't be built for all who suffer, people are capable of creating safe havens for each other. Even in the most desperate times, people can create their own paradise. Small and fragile, but still."

It was a painful truth that you had to face, just like him. The way this world works, you can't just run away and hide forever. Locking everyone in a golden cage isn't the answer, too. Grief and joy go hand in hand. Without one, the other is meaningless.

He stared at you in silence for a while, trying to comprehend the depth of your words.

"You sound just like my sister," a bitter smile appeared on his lips and Sunday lowered his gaze. "In a good way."

For a while there was a comfortable silence between you, broken only by the hum of the Express' engines and Mart's loud laughter somewhere in the distance. Of course, it's hard to change your worldview at the snap of a finger, it really is, but Sunday tried. For his sister's sake, for the future, for… you.

"I understand how you feel," you said again. "I feel it too. The desire to find relief from suffering. But, Sunday…" you turned to him, and he tilted his head slightly, listening. "This world is complicated. Sometimes cruel, sometimes beautiful. Everyone has their own path, sometimes paved with suffering, and… Here at the Express, we can help those in need. And bring happiness back to them. Without forcing into anything. Without sacrificing our own happiness to create eternal paradise."

“Do you think I still have a chance to bring something good into this world?” he asked.

You just nodded. Despite everything, his soul was still noble and pure. If his intentions were channeled in the right direction, Sunday could be a ray of hope in the darkness for many.

“Then…” he smiled, much softer this time, not taking his eyes off you. “Will you be ready to find a new path with me?”

Of course. You will.

please, do not rewrite/copy/repost/translate my work without me knowing, you can always ask first, thanks

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

John: "one of the funnier quirks of game dev is you will never remember missions by their real names but instead by the name you called them by for several years of development it will never be 'In Your Heart Shall Burn' for me, it'll always be Setback" [source] / Blair: "there was that awkward period where half of the DA:V ones had "gods" in the title, so discussions were always some variant of: "Did you mean 'Gods Are Back' or 'Gods Are Bad'? I've heard people mention 'Egads! Gods!' but I'm not sure if that's new or a rework."" [source] / Malcolm (in reply to John): "I have one like this in DA:Ve and I can't share it yet because spoilers but I promise you it's delightful" [source]

John: "the only one i can ever remember is 'Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts' and it's because it seems to be the only DAI mission that people constantly reference by name online" [source] / Mary: "It's proper name is "Ham Ball." I put that in the file names, even." [source]

John: "idk how widely it’s been advertised but a reminder we are doing another Veilguard Q&A on Discord this Friday noon Mountain time (so 11 Pacific)" [source] / Malcolm: "Make sure you don't tell them about that one thing that happens in that place, with the guy." [source]

Trick: "BioWare released a new screenshot of Taash! I love how it captures the amazing detail work the character artists did." [source]

Image description on the Taash screenshot in Trick's post of the cap:

"A screenshot of Taash looking off to the side. The lighting is warm like either late afternoon or an interior with a fireplace, and it catches in the gold on Taash's armor and horns. Taash looks pensive or vulnerable -- not the deadpan stare or badass determination we've seen in other shots."

pensive or vulnerable.. ohh Taash. 🥺 Trick!!

User on the screenshot: "Taash looks *completely the fuck over this shit* in a totally exhausted sort of way, here. which is, mind, amazing detail work on the character artists' party!!" / Trick: "You know, it's a spectrum." [source]

Trick on DA:I - "Miss May is amazing in many ways, and especially in finding the balance of sweetness to pain for the Solas scenes. ❤️" [source] ((thankyouuu Miss May!!))

User: "it must be basically impossible to resist putting at least one extra moon around your fantasy world" / John: "if dragon age didn’t already have two you’d better believe I would’ve added another one. sitting next to a dial titled ‘number of moons’ and every so often I add another one. anyways the thing about Satina is- (a large hook drags me offstage)" [source, two, three] ((omg.. THE SECOND MOON shfuehfuehdbdh)

User: "i've been thinking about bellara's pockets and i need to know what her thoughts on cargo pants would be. would she be a fan for the utility." / John: "she wouldn't wear them all the time - she's a firm believer in a distinction between 'work clothes' and 'at home clothes' - but she is always in search of more pockets to carry more things into the field. she'd own at least three pairs" [source]

User: "The next two months are going to feel like the Fade section in DAO 😭" / Dragon Age: "Good thing we have a Veil Jumper to help you out! 💜" [source]

User: "MY SON LOOKS SO CUTE" (re: the new pic of Manfred from today) / Dragon Age: "MY BOY MANFRED 💀💚" [source]

User: "Can we change the armor/gear on our companions?" / Dragon Age: "You can!" [source]

User: "thank you for the food 🙏🙏🙏" / Dragon Age: "Enjoy your meal!" [source]

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Hey wassup

If you still taking requests may I suggest angsty fic skz xreader where they imply during argument that the MC is after their money (gold digger) idk if it's better as a reaction of all members or maybe it's easier if you just one scenario with one member without adding their names and the readers can imagine whichever member they think is suitable for the scenario

“Such a Gold digger”

- Lee know

Ahh!!! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you enjoy the stories (I’ve made a few with the different boys). 🩷

!Not proofread!

Warnings: Angst/comfort

Pairing: Leeknow x reader

Summary: Basically Leeknow is a jerk and you put him in his place

**

Tired was what Leeknow was.

His muscles ached, his head was pounding and his throat was sore.

When he walked into the door I could tell he wasn’t in the brightest moods. His hair was messy, his eyes were red and cheeks a light pink.

He looked hot tho. He always looked hot.

“Hey baby.” I say putting down the coffee mug and getting up from my comfy position on the couch. I place a gentle kiss on his pink lips and try to lay down his crazy hair which left me on my tiptoes struggling to balance.

“Hey,” he softly says putting his shoes in the wrack and walking straight into the laundry room to drop his bag. A routine he would do so that he was ready for the next day because he hated waking up early to get his stuff together.

“How was your-“ I begin to ask him a question but was cut off by his irritated sigh.

“Y/n where are my dancing sweatpants?” He says loud from the laundry room.

“I haven’t washed it yet my love, it’s in the dirty pile.” I sit back down and pick up my mug. Watching the cats all pile by my feet as we continued to watch what was playing on the tv.

“Are you serious? I asked you to wash them. I need them for tomorrow.” He says frustrated

“Jeez I’ll just put them in right now. No need to be cranky.” I sigh and get up once again to go deal with his little meltdown.

“I’m not being cranky, I just asked you to do one simple thing and you didn’t even do it. God your so annoying sometimes” I take a step back and eye him top to bottom because I was wondering who he was talking to like that.

My eyes squint at him as I try to take in this little attitude he was having. Annoying? I was the annoying one?

“Jeez Leeknow I was just really busy today with-“ I try to cool down the fire that was about to start but he cuts me off again. This time it was getting under my skin.

“I don’t care.” He slams the cupboards in the laundry room trying to look for whatever it was he was looking for. “I’ll do it myself.”

“I can do it leeknow just go rest.” I say reaching out for the stuff in his hands but he shoves past me making me stumble a little. I stood there shocked, so much anger building up. I understood he had a bad day but did he really have to take it out on me. As I rub my elbow I hear him grumble.

“Your nothing but a gold digger” My heart drops as I turn to the man that was now walking past me to go to the kitchen. I grab his arm and furrow my eyebrows.

Pain and anger filling my chest as I try and process what he said. Was he being Foreal right now? What really was his problem?

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing.”

His boy towered over mine. His eyes were dark and sad. To even look at him right now without punching the shit out of him was hard.

“I’m a gold digger? Wow Leeknow.” I repeat his words. I let go of his hand in disbelief. Now I was leaving the room but I stop to look at him. My vision blurry from the tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

“Why do you always have to take out your bad days on me huh? I was busy the whole day trying to get the stuff you need for your stupid tour! I didn’t have time to be running around doing laundry. I’m not a maid. If you really want one hire a fucking assistant. Then you’ll be grateful right? You’re a fucking prick. Oh I even fucking missed Binna (Y/n’s little sister) recital today! So fuck you. I’ve never even asked you for fucking money. Never in my life. You’ve hurt me Leeknow.” And with that I grab my coffee mug and head into the room where I break down crying.

Leeknow was always short tempered but not in a mean way. More of like a “I’m mad at you so don’t talk to me” way.

Why did he have to be a jerk? Why did he have to make sure to throw things at me that he knew would get to me? He never was appreciative.

The bed was warm but felt empty, the pillows swallowed me and the blanket covered my shaking body. Loud sobs leaving my mouth and little sniffles at the end of each cry. What felt like 10 minutes was an hour. The knock on the door making me pretend to be asleep. I hear familiar footsteps come into the room and the bed sinks beside me.

A sigh leaves his lips before he begins to talk.

“Y/nie? My love? Are you awake my love?” He asks softly. His hands drawing circles on my side but I push them away and turn my back on him. Facing the other end of the bed.

“Okay fair enough, I deserve that.” I hear him say, his voice quavering. Was he crying?

“Y/nie, I’m sorry and I know sorry won’t make you forgive me right now but I’m going to find a way to make it up to you okay? What I said was out of line and so not true. I was just tired and stressed and irritated-“

“But that doesn’t matter Minho.” He looks taken back by the name Minho cause I never call him that. “I have bad days too but you don’t see me calling you names and yelling at you when I get home.” I tell him.

“I know and I need to work on it. This is the first and last time I promise. Just give me some time to make it up to you? I love you so much and never ever will I say things to hurt you.” He’s hand searches for mine and I let them intertwine.

“You were a bitch.” I mumble and I hear him chuckle.

“Yes I was but forgive me? I can’t bare you be mad at me anymore especially when I’m going on tour soon.” I let out a little whine complaining.

“Fine a forgive you,” I roll my eyes and he smiles at me.

“You’re so cute Baby.” He automatically gets on top of me and starts kissing my face everywhere which makes me burst in a fit of giggles.

“Get off babe I’m going to explode!” I yell while trying to push him away.

Soonie and the cats all hop onto the bed and cuddle beside me and leeknow as we slowly drift off to sleep. The night being forgotten.

**

Hyunjin’s part will be out soon 🩷

[historyslittlebish]

Hello. I would like to ask for your permission before I submit a full request.

Do you by any chance accept King Baldwin x Male!Reader request? It might involve NSFW scenario as well.

King Baldwin IV x Male!Guard!Reader One shot NSFW: (Completed!)

a/n: Hi anon and I know I declined but I'll still do it because I feel bad for rejecting, Idk how to write NSFW so it's gonna be bad but i'll do it. I also don't know if this is a scenario you wanted but if you wanna request a different one please do! Also I apologize because I have never watched the movie and I'm not sure how accurate this is.

==========================================

Warning: fluff, handjob, occ for our king I think

It was often unheard of, two men in a romantic or sexual relationship. Many thought it was sin, it wasn't something god accepted but they can never really know the answer can they? Why would god let them feel the feelings, why would god allow it to be an option? That is something many people never ponder enough.

Something that a knight named Y/N never pondered until he met with the great king of Jerusalem, Baldwin the IV.

Y/N had been hired as a knight since Baldwin was 12 and Y/N was 15 and a freshly knighted boy. As years past, Y/N was named best soldier in the brackets of the armies. He was agile, quick, resilient, strong, and most of all, loyal.

He was the kings personal guard which he didn't mind at all. He had grown close to the king, enough to get the king to show him his sore ridden face, his scars, his 'ugliness' but to Y/N, he was anything but ugly.

Y/N saw a kind hearted boy and man growing up, intelligent, brave, and strong willed, those were the words Y/N thinks when describing the king, everyone does.

Growing up, he saw Baldwin's determination to become a great king and to overcome his deadly illness. Only one could be truly possible but Baldwin was content, despite being numb to the bone, skin lesions, and more.

Today was like any other. Baldwin had a few things to get done but after that, he could have his peace.

Y/N stood slightly behind the throne Baldwin sat on, staring at the arguing lords and counsel members. Each fighting on whose strategies are better, who's morally righteous, whatever that is available to bicker about.

Y/N heard Baldwin sigh as he raised his hand and made a sound.

Suddenly everyone looked over and quieted down.

"I will meet with Saladin, we shall negotiate peace." Baldwin shifted slightly before hearing one of the older counsel members try to inerject.

"How do we know we can trust that Muslim r-" Baldwin raised his hand once more, immediately silencing the man "He may be Muslim, but we will respect him and treat him with nobility and equality.".

Y/N's heart thumped in his chest at the kings word. The kings kindness and true compassion was incredibly admirable but also making him lust for the king.

The people of the counsel glanced between each other but bowed at the kings words before swiftly making their exit, allowing the two men to be alone and at ease.

Baldwin slowly stood from his throne and looked at Y/N.

Y/N could see the exhaustion in his eyes, his beautiful sky blue eyes. Y/N snapped himself out of his thoughts and kept up a stoic expression.

"What now, my king?" Y/N asked as Baldwin stepped towards him. The king cautiously touched the mans arm and looked deep into his eyes. "I think I require a way to relax before I retire for tonight." As he said this, Baldwin's hand tools Y/N's and slowly led it down to his pelvis area where a little tent formed under his white and gold robes.

"My king.." Y/N breathed as his hand ghosted the man's bulge.

"Make me a happy man, Y/N, I long for your touch." Baldwin's raspy voice murmured as his being was consumed with lust. Y/N doesn't know how a man of God to dare go against him in terms of lust for another male but Y/N can't say he doesn't thoroughly enjoy it.

It doesn't take too long before Y/N helps the king to his quarters and settling on the soft and silky bed.

Y/N helps the king reveal his bulge.

His cock bobbed as soon as it was released from its confines. "Y/N.." Baldwin groans as his hips slightly buck. This is one of those moments when Baldwin thanks the heavens that the feeling in his crotch is not numb or too sore ridden.

Despite the sores, Y/N didn't mind at all. his hungry eyes took in all the kings cock as he played with the tip soaked in pre-cum.

Baldwin groaned as he sat half laying down as the man continued to fiddle with his manhood. Y/N loved the sweet sounds the king was making as he felt himself nearing his peak.

The man let out a loud moan as his semen spilled into the mans hand. As the king came down his high he stared at Y/N in awe, despite him being hired and a guard, he could still love a man like him.

Slowly, Baldwin sat upright and gently grasped Y/N hand, silently hoping that he would not get infected either. Baldwin leaned over and pressed a his to the mans temples.

Y/N softly smiled as he held his beloveds hand, enjoying each others presence. Love radiating off the two.

This is a sin but it is an amazing feeling.

A/N: Hopefully this is to your liking anon! Sorry if its bad :/

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

CHARLES XAVIER IS HOT? -WADE

Logan howlett x reader

-

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!! AND DAYS OF FUTURE PAST BUT I CAN ONLY HOPE EVERYONE HAS SEEN THAT.

-

Warnings: erm idk. Kinda a short one. All will make sense soon. God help me. Major Canon divergence

-

When i first joined the x-mansion as a student, Charles Xavier was old. Though I had heard from plenty of people who knew him as a young adult that he was rather good looking.

I refused to think of my old and wrinkly professor in that way. Mostly because he'd see it and be absolutely horrified I assume.

-

"Logan, I don't think there's anyone here," I stated as he approached the mansion.

Covered in vines and surrounded by rotting timber and splintering trees, the x mansion had Definitely seen better days.

"It's not looking likely that's For sure" he replied.

"Do you guys think Happy Wheels will be here? God I wanna see that old fucker"

Wade was trying to be funny, but Logan and I just glared at him and kept walking. The door to the mansion was rotting and chipping away.

"I think we're in the past" I said, guessing mostly.

Logan pushed open the door gently, and inside stood one man. He was raggedy and bearded.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked the stranger.

"My name is Charles Xavier," he stated, "the real question is who are you? All of you"

"Ho-ly fuck! Charles Xavier is hot?" Wade Gasped loudly with his hands to his mouth

"Was" Logan corrected

"I don't knooooow. I'd let old rolly hit it too"

Me and logan both made disgusted noises.

-

🧠

When Xavier first learnt, I could also use telepathy. It was when I tried to kill Jean. He stopped me and told me to find him in the office.

He tried to help me control it and tried to help me let it get under control so that I wouldn't go insane. But I did. I went crazy, and I would scream and cry and yell and rattle the walls.

And then, one day, without any warning.

It stopped.

I never rattled another wall again

-

"So, you're all from the future?" Charles furrowed his eyebrows.

"More or less, yeah, we're not supposed to be here" Logan spoke.

Well, we have been here before technically. We're just a bit out of time. I scratched my neck awkwardly.

"We didn't necessarily come here to find you. We just have to get back home" I said to charles

Wade's mouth was still agape. "Jesus, you are gorgeous, aren't you?" He was close and personal with Charles, he might as well have been inside his skin.

"Jesus man, have you ever heard of personal space or decency?" Charles scoffed and stood up, walking away from wades perverse self.

"And turn those fucking thoughts off" Charles groaned and pointed to Wade.

"Listen. I know how crazy we are from the future sounds. But to make things worse, you're also a professor in the future, and you teach" I pointed to me and Logan "us"

"I can't help you guys, i don't know what to do" Charles shrugged.

-

Why do you stick by him?

You love him, don't you?

-

🧠

By far, my weirdest interaction in the TVA was when i met a variant of Xavier, and he seemed to know me quite well. He could name my favourite colour, food, even my favourite candle and my favourite animal.

Upon closer inspection, i saw a ring on his finger. Sparkling gold with a small blue gem. I didn't bother to ask what the blue meant, I only knew that my ring on my finger was the same.

It became clear then that this was a Xavier variant I may have married in a way distant universe.

I called for the immediate expulsion of the variant instantly after.

-

Don't let him go

Do it I dare you

You love him

You love him

You love him

He's not yours

You can't do this

Don't do this

Don't do it

It's not right

-

"Charles?" I said.

It was nighttime. We were forced to take shelter in the mansion as we knew we had nowhere else to go.

"Yes?" The bearded man turned to me

"Can you do me a favor?"

-

[majycka]

Megumi stans....we won, I guess? maybe just for now..

JJK 266 THOUGHTS AND SPOILERS AHEAD!

Aight megumi enjoyers, at least one of us has been in the trenches when Megumi was getting SHOVELED PILES OF SHIT ON for losing his will to live when he's a traumatized 15 years old boy having a valid reaction to a death of a loved one (aka who may I repeat, HEAVILY REITERATED in the manga is someone whose his entire desire to live hinges on). As of from the currents chap, I'm considering Yuuji's acknowledgement/understanding to Megumi's actions a W for us or idk maybe that's just me because he gives Megumi the empathy and understanding he needs in his crazy ass suicidal life, and it raises the question of whether this is gonna fully push Megumi for his comeback moment?

More yapping under the cut

In order to explain why the magnitude of this chapter is such an important development for Megumi, his trauma needs to be discuss first and, there's four people we need to go through to reflect his stages of life. Toji, Tsumiki, Gojo, aaaannd Yuuji! :D

TOJI, the dad who left for milk.

Although we barely see any interaction with these two (only one fight scene from them), Toji no doubt kickstarted the trauma of Megumi the moment he decided to left for milk and never return again. He's traumatized by the Zenin's which explains why he acted out in that way and abandoned his child. All he's life he's treated as the outsider for being the odd one out. He lashed out from it as he got stronger, calmed down when meet Meg's mom who then died, and went back to lashing out again, forgetting that he has a tiny son waiting for him at home. Big L for Toji.

I know that Gege reiterated in his interview that he wants to craft a story where there's no right and wrong people, but I'm gonna proceed to be harsher towards Toji here because he's the ADULT situation. Yes, a traumatized adult who's fucked up and not perfect, but I still hold him accountable in perpetuating Megumi's trauma because Toji proceeded to repeat the cycle of trauma that moment he decided to leave, thinking that turning over Megumi to the Zenin is the best option cuz he got The Ten Shadows Technique. From Toji's perspective, it seemed the better option because he was raised knowing his no cursed energy made him an outcast in his family. It's drilled to him that cursed technique was everything for Zenins, so of course, he thought that his son with a valued technique will make the Zenins, olympic gold medal holder of abuse, treat him better. But, heck no! Just look what happened to that Naoya, who despite being raised differently as Toji or Maki and Mai, ended up as a piece of shit. In the end though, I gotta give him the bareeeessst minimum because he kinda pushed Gojo to interfere with Megumi being sold off to the Zenins(which has another set of problems discussed for the later part of discussion).

I try to stay true in including Gege's intention in writing here, and also other nuanced perspective cuz that's the type of series JJK is that yes, Toji DID care for his son in the barest minimum and in his most emotionally stunted way.

However, the damage is done, and Megumi is left with no prime adult caretaker to protect/guide him with only an older sis to have any resemblance of it .

2. TSUMIKI, the manic pixie dream girl sister.

To define the term (as I've stolen from Google) , manic pixie dream girl (MPDG) means "a type of female character depicted as vivacious and appealingly quirky, whose main purpose within the narrative is to inspire a greater appreciation for life in a male protagonist." They are often associated as love interest in movies, BUT I AM NO WAY SHAPE IN FORM ENDORSING MEGUMI SEES HER THAT WAY. Instead, I am using MPDG as a loose term to describe Tsumiki because like most MPDG, we barely know ANYTHING about her actually and we only saw her through the eyes of Megumi which is being pretty and dead.

Not essentially dead and not essentially just pretty because Megumi described her to be the model of a kind person and someone that Megumi wishes to protect, aka his greater purpose of life, which is yah, great, but we are stuck with this perception of Tsumiki. We don't know her, and I think the closest thing we got an unbiased perception of her is when she chucked a cartoon of milk to Megumi (she will call out his BS). This connects back with Megumi's trauma because who else are you gonna hinge your will to live on when the prime adults in your life failed you? He sees her in a brighter light in order to survive. A way of coping mechanism even.

AND YET, despite all his talk appreciating her kind traits and killing people in the culling game to get back to her, you would be surprised that instead of apologizing to her that he was all emo about, he was a dick to her when they reunited. 💀💀

And in fact, the narrative punishes him for this flaw.

To the point that when Sukuna took over his body, he "killed: Tsumiki in his hands which didn't just left Megumi the guilt and shame of being a dick to his sister before she dies but also the impression that Megumi was the one who "killed her." This makes Megumi an active participant to his own tragedy, and it serves a big slap on his face that he's also at fault here.

3. GOJO, the traumatized bro who tried his best.

This is definitely the raging hot debate of the fandom which is their dynamic, and my take breaks this perception of the uwufied Gojo a lot of the fandom seems to like. Yes, I do see Gojo as another perpetrator to Megumi’s trauma, another adult that failed him but not in such of a black and white way thinking of Gojo’s the wholly bad guy here. Believe it or not, he’s still a part of the chain of generational trauma, being a "chain" as in he's a victim AND perpetrator of the system. I called him the traumatized bro who tried his best here because as much as Gojo knows how cruel the jujutsu system is for the kids, he still unintentionally passes over the core mindset of such cruel system to Megumi since Gojo still did grew up in this system normalized in his eyes.

"Jujutsu Sorcerer is an individual sport."

I say "unintentionally passes" because no, Gojo doesn't have the same intention as Zenins/majority of the system who drills "strength is everything" in the most fucked up way possible. Yes, he enjoys Megumi’s company and treats him nicely. Yes, he sticks his neck out for him. Yes, he wants them to be strong so they can change the system. But this isn't about Gojo. It's about Megumi who still undeniably suffered from the accumulation of the few adults in his life failing him which includes Gojo. Gojo offers protection to Megumi. KEYWORD: Offers. It’s in exchange for Megumi working under Gojo as a jujutsu sorcerer. Now, for smol Megumi here, who truly going through the horror show of abandonment from his dad, agrees to it because apparently, according to Gojo, it’s the only way to protect his sister.

"I'll take care of things! But you're gonna have to work extra hard. I'm countin' on ya."

Annnd thus the cycle repeats! Although it wasn’t as bad as Zenin’s abusive environment Toji was raised, Megumi is still pushed in the same cutthroat environment of the jjk world that Gojo believed he can survive just because Megs has a valued powerful technique if only he himself fullfills his potential, like Gojo’s Six Eyes. BUT Gojo, who delights in his power, forgets a crucial part that…..Megumi isn’t like him!

Check out what Megumi has to say. (aka bud doesn't want any of that sorcerers shit and just wants a domestic life)

So the thing is, was Megumi ever asked his input in choosing to be a jujutsu sorcerer? Well, yah….and all it circles back to just protecting his sister and people like her. There’s a set of problems that comes with this mindset though that Gojo was valid to point out and that is Megumi doesn’t think about himself enough. “It’s ok to be selfish!” Gojo said in the context of being a stronger sorcerer.

But at the same time, he also gave Megumi the idea to that if he doesn’t work as sorcerer, then he won’t be able to protect his sister when he was a mere 6-7y/o boy.

You know that circulating meme of Megumi pulling Mahogora for minor inconvenience? Well, guess what that tells his suicidal tendencies in protecting anyone but himself. Kid got no sense of self-preservation because his self esteemed has completely tanked itself due to his abandonment issues, and now that he’s expressing how it emotionally and physically paralyzes him, he has every valid reason to do so.

Why, yes, Gojo was 19/20 at the time he first met Megs, still a kid, doesn't know shit, and has unaddressed issues being treated as The Strongest Weapon(here’s a dedicated gojo-centric meta I wrote previously about Gojo and his issues cuz he's one complicated fool). I describe this whole situation as an unaware traumatized kid taking in another traumatized kid which is not a fun mix to have, and I understand that Gojo ain’t exactly prepared for that kind of job.

HOWEVER, I’m way harsher to point out Gojo’s failure as an adult in Megumi in the later part of the series because at this point, Gojo's a grown adult, he waxes poetry in being responsible for the next gen , and we get to see his priorities throughout the series especially with the Sukuna’s fight, like seriously he had one legitimate fun fighting someone on par with him.

Gojo DELIGHTS in power no doubt, he chooses kids with most potential, he gets excited finding those kids, and this is the type of the closest dependable adult Megumi has in his life.

Yes, financially supported but Gojo isn't around much when he's working and on demand sorcerer almost 24/7. That's why growing up sure do sucked ass for Megumi especially when no one’s really there to guide and to keep an eye on your development AS A PERSON AND NOT JUST A SORCERER which the latter part is what unfortunately Gojo’s more eager to do.

4. YUUJI, the guy who just wants Megumi to know he matters to him as a person.

Yuuji and Megumi were definitely the highlight of this chapter because in the bleak world of JJK where everyone seemed to be succumbing to the repeated fuck ups of the previous gen (like that Yuta-Gojo situation), this chapter actually offers that THERE IS HOPE that the new gen can do better like what Yuuji just did that the adults in Megumi's life are too emotionally stunted to do. Yuuji take the time to listen to Megumi's emotional thoughts, what he feels as a person, and not just listen, but to understand and empathize. It even took lots of attempts for Yuuji to make Megumi open up.

He responds to Megumi's vulnerability with care and love, and Yuuji understands the pain Megumi is going through from losing his sister. With someone in pain like that, Yuuji knows he can't just go around saying "just live" to someone who's practically suicidal.

The treat of this all is when this scene comes next. Yuuji also shows his vulnerability and expresses that Megumi matters to him!

"It's lonely without you..Fushiguro."

This scene clearly parallels Gojo and Megumi's first meeting, so I'm gonna try to throw my two cents here and explain why Gege choose this direction. Remember what I said about Yuuji giving us the hope of the new gen escaping from the shackles of generational trauma? Well, I think this parallel is a way in saying that what Megumi needed when he was so young was someone to see him and his pain who's just a kid abandoned and forced to fend for themselves because the prime adults decided to to dip out. This is Megumi we are talking about here who's unaddressed issues stays hidden beneath all the pressure of him being The Ten Shadows Technique. He's valued for his technique. That's why Gojo showed up to meet him in the first place. That's also what the jujutsu system looked after for their child soldiers. Yuuji tries to break this chain of trauma their mentor unknowingly repeats. He'll show up for Megumi again and again because he's his dear friend even if Megumi's being difficult to be pulled out of Sukuna. And the beautiful thing is Yuuji didn't had some grand inspiring speech or grand offer to convince Megumi, he wasn't even sure Megumi will be up for it. Yuuji simply want to say that he matters to him. That understands him. That he's important to him so much he'll be sad when he dies, and it mattered.

"This is...Fushiguro Megumi's...!!"

And now that Megumi is showing signs in taking his body back, it's now his turn to save himself. Yuuji did his part, and for someone whose future has been controlled by everyone but himself, this time Megumi gets to decide what comes next.

[kyleoreillylover]

Chapter 3- Time

Series Summary/Masterlist

word count: 13,537

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

warnings: wrestling related violence, manipulation, mentions of cheating.

Chapter Summary: It's time for your test. You have a choice to make. Will you finally get your revenge on Becky and take what's rightfully yours, that title? Will you choose your best friends for over 20 years over Roman, or will you finally be selfish and choose yourself for once? Will you finally put away your kind heartedness in favor for retribution? Only time will tell.

a/n: This chapter is my favorite one that I have written, so I hope you guys enjoy! Also there will be a big time jump in the next chapter from 2020 to 2022, so be prepared for that lol. Love you guys and thank you for reading my silly little stories <3

liked by uceyjucey, trinityfatu, beckylynch, jimmyuso and 600,00 others

y/n: bleeding out red and gonna be dripping out in gold 💋 #eliminationchamber #rawwomenschampionship

view all comments:

user: mother looks so freaking good!!!

user: red hair era makes me go feral

samizaynwwe: wishing you the best of luck <3

↳user: omg this is so cute!! I miss their friendship 😩😭

↳user: more like relationship 😭 friends do not look at each other like the way they used to look at one another 😭

↳y/n: you already know that, you picked out the gear for me 

user: the fact that ur still competing when ur bestie has a whole broken arm

↳user: and what do u want her to do? forfeit her title match cause becky got attacked by some rando? pls exit this comment section and never return

user: why all the red suddenly... 👀

↳user: why question it when she looks so good in red 🥰

Beckylynchwwe: may the best women win. 🤝 Love you <3

↳y/n: may the best women win 🤝 Lyt <3

user: you better win!!! 

uceyjucey: red looks good on you 🩸

↳y/n: you already know that, you picked out the gear for me 😒♥️

↳uceyjucey: that just means I got good taste ;)

↳user: what's going on here???

↳user: idk but i’m loving it

"Becky, are you sure you should be competing in this type of match like this?"

Your concerned voice rang out in the locker room as you leaned against the wall, looking at Becky who was wrapping her injured arm with a supportive bandage. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her shoulders as she glanced up, meeting your eyes with a determined look.

"I have no other choice," Becky replied, a steely resolve evident in her tone.  She continued wrapping up her injured arm, securing it carefully. You stared at it with a unreadable expression on your face, your worries etched in the furrow of your brow. Becky noticed your concern and paused, meeting your gaze once more.

"You always have a choice." You retorted sharply, expressing your concern for her well being.

Becky sighed, a mixture of frustration and determination evident in her eyes. "I know Y/N," Becky said softly, her voice tinged with both determination and a hint of vulnerability. "But I can't back down from this. I've worked too hard to get here, and I won't let anything—no injury, no setback, no attacker—stop me."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. "I get it, Becky. I just don't want to see you hurt any further. This match is brutal, and with your arm—"

Becky cut you off gently, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and determination. "I appreciate your concern, I truly do. But I've made up my mind. I'm stepping into that ring, and I'm going to give it my all."

There was a moment of silence as you both exchanged looks filled with unspoken understanding. Despite your worries, you knew Becky's determination was unshakeable, and you knew that no matter what you said, she wouldn't change her decision.

With a a sigh, you relented, realizing that your words might not dissuade her from her chosen path.

"Alright, Becky. I'll be right there, rooting for you," you said, offering your support despite your reservations. "May the best women win." You offered her your hand, giving her a firm shake before offering a supportive hug. Becky reciprocated the hug, her fiery spirit burning even in the face of adversity.

"Maybe the best women win." Becky mumbled into your jacket, tightening her grip on you like you were all she had before letting go. You gave her a smile that was wiped away when you left the room. The cameras that were waiting for you caught it, and Kayla Braxton, who looked eager to see you before the match, rushed forward, holding a microphone.

"Y/N, could we have a moment of your time before the Elimination Chamber match?" Kayla's voice carried a sense of urgency as she positioned herself to get the best shot for the viewers tuning in.

You offered a quick nod, acknowledging Kayla's request before making your way down the corridor, cameras trailing behind. The anticipation for your upcoming match was palpable in the air, the buzzing energy of the arena adding to the already charged atmosphere.

Kayla posed her first question, her voice projecting professionalism despite the evident excitement. "Y/N, you're about to enter the Elimination Chamber match for the Raw Women's Championship. With Becky Lynch injured and the odds against you, how do you plan to approach this match?"

Your expression shifted to one of confusion and determination, a resolve etched on your face. "Odds stacked against me? Kayla, you clearly didn't do your research before coming to me. I am the "odds." The word rolled off your tongue with a confident smirk.

 "Those other competitors are probably hoping for me to be the last one released from the pod so they have a better chance. But guess what? I thrive in this kind of environment. I have fun in this kind of enviornment." Your voice turned cold yet fiery at the same time as  you continued, your eyes focused on the camera.

"Shayna, Natalya, Becky, Nia, and Auska wanna act like they have the upper hand? Newsflash, I beat Shayna and Natalya last week, and they showed me that they are nothing but speed bumps on my road to victory. As for the others, I will happily stomp on them on my way to the top. Let's not forget I am the woman that broke Ronda Rousey so badly she had to go take another vacation cause she couldn't handle taking that title from me, and she's the one that won!" 

You giggled at Kayla, the fervor in your voice matching the intensity of the situation. "So, in case anyone's forgotten, I am the Princess of Pain." You paused for a moment, a sly grin crossing your face. "And I plan to remind everyone why that's the case when I walk out with that Raw Women's Championship tonight."

Kayla gulped at the intense proclamation, her eyes widening as she attempted to maintain her professional composure. Your demeanor was not your normal one; it was a blend of anger, determination, and a hint of ferocity that spoke volumes about your mindset entering the match.

The aura you exuded was one of someone willing to destroy themselves to destroy their opponents,  channeling a potent mix of confidence and aggression that was unlike you to have before you get in the ring.

"And I have to ask, do you feel guilty going into this match knowing you might have to hurt an injured Becky to secure the title?" Kayla's question hung in the air, her gaze expectant as she awaited your response.

Your expression shifted, the fire in your eyes dimming slightly as you considered the weight of Kayla's inquiry. "Kayla, let's get something straight," you began, your tone calmer yet laced with determination. "This isn't about hurting Becky. This is about competition, about proving myself in that ring. Becky and I have mutual respect, and if she's stepping into that Chamber, she knows what's at stake just as much as I do."

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "If she wants to go into this match injured, then she needs to be prepared for the consequences. I won't hold back, not because I want to hurt her, but because in that ring, we're all fighting for the same thing—the championship. Becky knows that as much as anyone else in that Chamber. It's every women for herself, and there are no friends once that bell rings. I respect Becky, but I won't let sentimentality cloud my goal—becoming the Raw Women's Champion."

Kayla nodded understandingly, her demeanor maintaining its professional facade despite the charged nature of your response. "And my last question, how do you respond to claims made by a now injured Seth Rollins- who was taken out of his match- that you were the one who attacked Becky?"

You internally smiled at the mention of Seth being injured, but your expression remained serious and composed. "Seth's accusations are baseless and unfounded. I have no reason to attack Becky, especially not before a match of this magnitude. As much as Seth may want to stir controversy, I'm solely focused on this Elimination Chamber match and claiming what I rightfully deserve—the Raw Women's Championship."

Kayla nodded, giving you a bright smile. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Y/N. Best of luck in the match tonight."

You nodded in acknowledgment, offering a quick, determined smile before the cameras panned away and the backstage scene transitioned into the electrifying arena. 

It was almost time.

All you felt was red hot anger as you were putting on your gear. Your skin was on fire, your thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour, and the sensation of frustration coursed through your veins like a wildfire.

 All you could think of was finally getting your hands on Becky and hurting her like she hurt you. Slamming her into the steel. Throwing her into the glass pod and reveling in her agony. Sticking that knife into her back like she had done to you and making her feel what you felt. All of those thoughts made your skin feel even hotter, and you barely registered the voice calling out for you from outside the bathroom.

"Y/N, pretty girl, you finished yet? Match starts in 10 and I wanna see you in your pretty gear." Knocking accompanied Jey's  expectant yet concerned tone, and you jumped at the sudden interruption, momentarily pulling you out of the dark thoughts swirling in your mind. Your breathing was ragged, your hands slightly trembling as you tried to compose yourself. 

"Yeah, gimme a sec." You   replied, your voice low and cold, trying to mask the turmoil brewing within. You took a deep breath, attempting to steady your emotions, knowing you couldn't afford to let this rage control you before the match.

Quickly finishing up, you emerged from the bathroom, wearing your wrestling gear—a crimson ensemble that matched the intensity of your emotions, and opened the locker room door.

Jey was waiting, and any words he was gonna say were quickly forgotten as he took in your beauty. Your beautiful crimson gear hugging your body perfectly, red makeup accentuating your fierce expression, your sun-kissed brown skin on display making Jey's mouth water. It took everything in him to not kiss you right then and there.

"Damn." Jey whispered out, eyes darkening at the sight of you and trying to not look down at your gear and instead maintain eye contact. "You look incredible, Y/N."

You forced a small smile, though your eyes still held a hint of the lingering anger. "Thanks, Jey." You appreciated his compliment, but your mind was preoccupied with the upcoming match and the intense emotions swirling within you. 

"You don't look too bad yourself." Not too bad was an understandment, Jey looked like a greek god; sporting his gold chain and his abs on full display since he was shirtless underneath his black jacket that showed off his muscles. The tension between the two of you was undeniable, the charged atmosphere only adding to the intensity of the moment. 

Jey stepped closer to you and gently put his hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring.  "Hey, you're gonna do great out there. I know you're feeling a lot right now, but don't let it consume you. Stay focused, okay? You're the Princess of Pain for a reason." 

His hand left your shoulder and cupped your cheek, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb.

Your breath hitched slightly at the contact, the warmth of his hand making you get out of your head, if only for a little while. You looked up into his honey-brown eyes that seemed to lighten up just for you  before they grew serious again, mirroring the emotions swirling within you. 

"What's wrong?' Jey softly asked, his concern palpable in his gaze.

You shook your head, trying to brush off his concerns, but his thumb remained on your cheek, gentle yet insistent. "It's nothing, just pre-match nerves. I'll be fine once I'm out there." 

Despite your attempt to downplay your emotions, Jey knew you better than to take your words at face value. He observed you for a moment, and it felt like he was staring into your soul, waiting for you to open up and share what was truly bothering you.

Finally, unable to resist the comfort Jey offered, you sighed, feeling the weight of the emotions crashing over you. "It's Becky," you admitted in a hushed tone, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't shake off this anger. It's consuming me, and I know Roman told me to let it fester until the right moment, but I feel like I'm losing control."

Jey's face softened at your admission, and he gently brushed his thumb over your cheek again, offering you a comforting gesture. "I get it. But think about it. Finally getting your revenge, taking her down and showing her she can't mess with you again, that's your big moment. And you're gonna have that moment." 

Despite his words, you felt the anger lick at your insides like a relentless flame, almost drowning out Jey's comforting words. You blinked, trying to refocus on his face, to ground yourself in his calming presence.

"I want that moment, Jey. I want to make her pay for what she did to me." The intensity in your voice matched the ferocity in your eyes. "But you don't understand. Once I get out there,  I don't know if I can control it. I don't know if I can stop myself from going too far." 

That was the understandment of the year. You've had this problem for years, you weren't called the Princess of Pain without a reason. It was why you tried for so many years to be the good guy, to fight against the darkness inside you. Sami and Kevin were usually the ones who helped you keep it at bay, but they weren't here this time. They wouldn't be able to pull you back if things got too out of hand. 

You've never let your anger out like this before except for one time in the NXT when Kevin cost you your NXT Women's Championship after you took Sami's side in their feud. 

That night haunted you- and the moments that followed it haunted you as well. You attacked Kevin in a fit of rage backstage, and injured him, fighting him all the way to the parking lot and breaking his arm in the process.

Sami wasn't in the arena to calm you down, and when the security guards finally sepeated you from Kevin,  your eyes red with anger and tears, you found a empty spot to sit at to get away from everyone.

You felt like crying until you had no tears left,  feeling the guilt and shame consume you. But before you could, a tap on your shoulder made you look up, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

It was Bray Wyatt, his serene yet enigmatic presence somehow calming the storm raging within you. He sat beside you, not saying anything at first, just offering his silent support. The two of you didn't speak until you eventually found the words amiss the storm of emotions you were experiencing.

"What do you want?" You snapped at Bray, the anger still boiling under your skin, not understanding why he was approaching you at such a vulnerable moment.

Bray didn't flinch at your outburst, his calm demeanor unwavering. "I don't want anything from you, Y/N. I'm here because I understand your pain. I see the turmoil within you, and I'm here to offer guidance if you're willing to accept it."

You scoffed, feeling a mixture of frustration and confusion. "Guidance? What do you know about my pain? About what I'm feeling right now?"

Bray leaned in closer, his piercing gaze fixed on you. "I know more than you think. I've danced with darkness, embraced it, and found my way back. I see the same struggle in you. The anger, the hurt, it's consuming you, because you are scared of it. But you have a choice. You can either be scared of it and push it away, but that will only worsen it, or you can embrace it, acknowledge it, and learn that it is a part of you. The choice is yours, Y/N."

His words resonated within you, cutting through the chaos in your mind with a clarity you hadn't felt in a long time. You looked at Bray, a mix of emotions still swirling within you, but his calm demeanor somehow grounding you in the moment.

"What do I do?" you asked, your voice softer, a hint of vulnerability breaking through the facade you had built.

Bray smiled gently, his eyes holding a depth of understanding. "You will see." With that, Bray stood up and left, leaving you with a sense of intrigue and contemplation. The memory of that encounter with Bray Wyatt was etched in your mind, his enigmatic guidance lingering as you grappled with controlling the anger brewing within you.

Back in the present moment with Jey, you felt a pang of that same uncertainty and inner turmoil, knowing that this time, you might not have someone like Bray Wyatt, Sami or Kevin to guide you through the tumultuous waves of anger and darkness that threatened to consume you.

Jey's voice pulled you out of the memories, his concern evident in his expression. "Hey, listen to me." He gently cupped your face with both hands, his touch grounding you in the present.  "I can stop you if things get too out of hand. You know that, right? I won't let you hurt yourself."

You blinked, the sincerity in Jey's eyes cutting through the tempest within you.

"Jey, I appreciate that. I really do," you began, your voice wavering slightly as you tried to express your gratitude, "but this isn't something you can just step in and stop. Not this time. I don't even know if I can control it myself."

You felt a rush of anger and gripped Jey's wrist tightly, the intensity of your emotions almost palpable. "I'm just scared that no one will be able to pull me back from the edge this time."

Jey's gaze softened, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders in a reassuring manner. He knew you had a side to you that he never really saw before until Becky confessed about her and Seth, a side that was darker, more intense, and harbored deep-seated emotions.

But he didn't care about the darkness within you. He cared about the beautiful women that was capable of so much more, the woman who was passionate, driven, and compassionate.

"I won't let you go over the edge." Jey shook his head and grabbed your hand firmly. "You focus on winning, and when you come back, I'll be waiting for you no matter what."

You shook your head, pulling your hand out of his grasp. Jey didn't understand. You could barely control it, how could he pull you from the edge if you were teetering on it? How could he tell you that you'd come back unscathed when the rage within threatened to consume you entirely? 

"You can't promise that." You harshly whispered , your voice carrying a mix of fear and frustration. "You don't understand, Jey. This isn't something you can just control or stop. I don't even know if I can."

Jey grabbed your hand back, his eyes locked with yours in a silent exchange of emotions. "I understand that I can help you with this."

"Don't waste your time trying when you can't." You tightened your grip on Jey's hand, your voice desperate yet resigned. "You can't save me from myself, Jey. No one can."

"I can."

"No one can Jey!" You broke free of his grasp, the emotions swirling within you too overwhelming to contain. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of frustration, anger, and fear threatening to spill over. You turned away from Jey, unable to bear the weight of his comforting gaze. "And I won't risk let you get hurt because of me."

"You can't take that choice away from me. I want take the risk." Jey's words made you turn back to him with a glare that conveyed a mix of emotions. You wanted to push him away, to protect him from yourself yet a part of you longed for his comforting presence, his unwavering support.

"Well too bad, cause I'm not letting you take it." You moved to grab your jacket, but Jey stepped in front of you, blocking your path and capturing your attention with a resolute gaze.

"I'm not gon' let you push me away cause I care about you." Jey stated firmly, his voice unwavering as he held your gaze. "I'll fight for you, even if it's against yourself."

"I can't let you do that." You tried to push past him, but Jey just stood his ground, refusing to let you leave.

"You can't stop me from caring about you, Y/N."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can!" You raised your voice, frustration and desperation seeping through every word. "I'm not worth it, Jey! I'm not worth risking yourself for!"

Jey remained steadfast, his gaze unwavering as he reached out to gently cup your face, making you freeze in your tracks. His touch was warm and comforting, his eyes locking onto yours with a sense of determination that matched your own.

"You are worth it, Y/N," he said softly, his voice laced with conviction. "You're worth every bit of effort, every bit of care. I won't let you believe otherwise." Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of emotions churning within you. You wanted to push him away, but his touch, his proximity, just him in general was making you feel things you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time. 

"I can't hurt you..." You mumbled softly, Jey's expression softened even more, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that escaped from your eye.

"I can handle the pain, pretty girl, trust me." Something about his words made you internally heat up, feeling a mix of emotions at his unwavering support and care. 

Jey felt the shift in your demeanor, felt the tension that threatened to explode between the two of you, and when he looked down at your perfectly glossed lips, he couldn't take it anymore.

The only warning you got was him pulling you into his arms before his lips pressed against yours in a heated kiss. When he felt your lips not moving, his brain started working again and panic began to fill his body.

Holy shit, he was kissing you.

Jey quickly pulled away, his eyes wide with shock at what he had just done. He looked at you and expected to see a disguted expression, but instead, he was met with a look of surprise mixed with something else, something he couldn't quite decipher.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," Jey stammered, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed anywhere but on you. "I understand if you wanna slap me or not wanna be friends anymore-" Jey was cut off by your sudden movement as you grabbed his face and pulled him into another kiss, this time more fervent and filled with an intensity that surprised both of you.

Your lips moved against his in a desperate embrace, your hands sliding around his neck as you deepened the kiss, feeling a mix of emotions surging through you.

Jey's initial shock melted away, replaced by a raw passion as he responded to your kiss with equal fervor, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

The intensity of the moment, the emotions swirling within you, they all converged in that fiery kiss, a collision of desire, desperation, and unspoken words. His lips were rough yet soft against yours, the taste of him sending a wave of warmth through your body.

For a moment, it felt like everything else faded away—the anger, the turmoil, the impending match—leaving only the two of you in that charged, passionate moment.

Breaking the kiss, you both panted slightly, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Jey's eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and longing reflected in his gaze, mirroring the emotions you felt within yourself. You both stood there, caught in a moment of unspoken connection, the tension between you palpable yet strangely comforting.

"I... I don't know what came over me," Jey finally managed to say, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and desire, his eyes searching yours for some semblance of understanding.

You shook your head slightly, trying to process the intensity of what just happened, the flood of emotions still coursing through you. "I don't either," you admitted softly, your heart racing with a combination of excitement and uncertainty.

A knock on the door startled you both, making you snap out of the moment. Jey quickly composed himself, adjusting his jacket as he moved away from you, trying to regain his composure. You took a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing heartbeat and clear your mind.

"Y/N, it's time. We're about to start," a voice called from outside the door, interrupting the charged atmosphere that lingered between you. 

"Give me a minute." You called out in response, your voice slightly shaky as you tried to regain your focus.

You turned to Jey, who looked like he was still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, and walked over to him, placing your hand on his arm, gingerly making your way to his chest before grabbing his chain, gently tugging on it to bring him down to your level. Both your skins felt like they were still ablaze with the remnants of the intense moment you shared, and you locked eyes with him, a mix of emotions reflecting in your gaze.

"We'll talk about this later, so don't worry about it." You ran your hand along Jey's jawline, your touch light yet conveying a sense of reassurance. "But I promise you we're good. Wish me luck?"

Jey's eyes softened at your words, and he wished that he could say more, that he could express the myriad of emotions swirling within him.

Instead, he gave you a nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Good luck, pretty girl. Kill it out there." he replied softly, his voice filled with a mixture of support and love. You gave him a blinding smile, and he watched as you let go of his chain, your hand sliding away from his jawline, and made your way towards the door, steeling yourself for the intense match ahead.

He just hoped that you'd come back to him unscathed.

You glared through your pod, your gaze fixated on Becky as she made her entrance into the Elimination Chamber match. The sight of her intensified the emotions within you, the anger and resentment threatening to consume you once again.

But this time yo would let it consume you, let it overwhelm your senses and take control of your actions. The anger boiled inside you like a tempest, urging you to unleash it upon her, to make her feel the pain and anguish you had harbored since the betrayal.

Natalya and Becky were to start the match, and as the countdown began for the first pod to open, you focused on preparing yourself mentally for the chaos that was about to unfold.

After 30 minutes- it was like a war zone. Natalya was the first to be eliminated by a roll-up by Shayna, who turned on her. One of the pods were broken when Tamina speared Nia through it, who eliminated Nia. Becky was nursing her arm after Shayna targeted it and you eliminated her before she could tap Becky out with your finisher.

And you and Auska were tangled in the corner, exchanging fierce strikes and attempts to gain the upper hand. You slammed her into the steel, blood pouring out of your mouth from where you'd been hit by her kicks.

The match had taken a toll on everyone, leaving bruises, blood, and fatigue as the competitors fought tooth and nail for the coveted Raw Women's Championship.

As you grappled with Asuka, you could barely think, you were barely yourself. You let the darker side of you take over, your vision tunneling to focus solely on inflicting pain and securing victory at any cost. The crowd roared, the steel structure reverberated with the impact of bodies colliding, but it was all a distant symphony to you, drowned out by the internal fury consuming your thoughts.

"You are not ready for Auska!" Asuka screamed at you as she slammed your head into the steel over and over again. But all that did was make you smile with every hit, making Auska angrier and try to fight you even harder.

The pain seared through your body, but you welcomed it, reveling in the agony as it fueled the fire within you. You grunted with each impact, the taste of blood on your lips as sweet as candy.

With a sudden burst of strength, you managed to reverse Auska's assault, throwing her into the steel structure with a resounding crash. You saw her wince in pain, but you didn't relent. Your movements were almost mechanical, your mind was clouded, your vision hazy with the red mist of aggression and determination.

You grabbed her head and slammed it against the steel again, and again, and again, each impact echoing through the chamber. The crowd's chants and screams merged into a cacophony, but your focus remained singular—inflict pain, show no mercy, and secure victory at any cost.

Blood trickled down your face from the earlier blows, mixing with the crimson of your attire, making you look like the darkness that consumed you. The intense desire to win, the need to prove your dominance, all these emotions drove you forward, blurring the lines between competition and the dark turmoil within.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Tamina barreling down at you, and you managed to sidestep her attack just in time, causing her to crash into Auska with a fierce impact. You laughed darkly, the sound almost maniacal as you watched both of them reel in pain, before you grabbed Auska and hauled her into the ring for the pin. 

"Auska has been eliminated!" The announcer's voice boomed through the arena as your victory was declared. But there was no elation in your expression, no triumphant celebration. Instead, a cold, almost detached look adorned your face as you stood over Auska, panting heavily, your gaze fixated on the fallen competitor.

Your gaze went to Becky, who was still nursing her arm, watching the chaos unfold in the ring. The sight of her triggered a surge of raw emotions within you, the memories of her betrayal and your desire for retribution resurfacing with an overwhelming intensity. You were consumed by an uncontrollable rage, the darkness within you clawing its way to the surface as you eyed Becky with an unspoken promise of vengeance.

Your gaze went from Becky, to Tamina, then Becky again. You smiled and moved closer to Becky, who was already on her feet, albeit visibly weakened from the match. "The two of us, get Tamina. Then it'll just be us." 

Becky nodded, understanding the unspoken plan as the two of you cautiously approached Tamina, who was trying to recover from the previous onslaught. As a team, you and Becky coordinated your attacks, trying to neutralize Tamina's advantage.

You grabbed her from behind, while Becky kicked her in the midsection, trying to weaken her. But Tamina was stronger, and she powered out of your grip, sending you to the mat with a forceful shove. Becky, in her weakened state, tried to fight back, but Tamina's power was overwhelming.

You staggered to your feet, the pain and exhaustion beginning to take its toll, but the fire within you burned fiercely. You knew you had to take down Tamina to secure a chance at the championship, and you couldn't let anything—especially the betrayal that fueled your rage—distract you from that goal.

As Tamina advanced towards Becky, you launched yourself at her, driving your shoulder into her midsection and knocking her down. You and Becky seized the opportunity, both delivering a series of coordinated strikes, attempting to weaken Tamina further. Tamina realized that this could mark the end for her and swiftly ran away from the both of you, climbing the cage and trying to escape.

You and Becky quickly went after her, scaling the cage and trying to get her. Tamina climbed onto the top of the pod to try and get away , but you and Becky both grabbed Tamina's legs to prevent her escape. She struggled, thrashing wildly in an attempt to break free from your grip, but both you and Becky held on, determined to keep her from fleeing. 

With a combined effort, you and Becky managed to pull Tamina back down kick her, making her slump in the corner of the pod.

"How do you like that, Tamina!" You yelled at her , your voice filled with a mix of exhilaration and a hint of vindication.

You turned away from her and realized Becky was dangling off the edge of the pod, struggling to maintain her balance. In that split second, the memories hit you— when she had told you she and Seth were seeing each other behind your back — and you knew the choice you had to make. 

"Give me your hand, Becks." You extended your hand to Becky, offering her support to pull her back up onto the pod. 

Becky sighed a breath of relief, her grip on the edge faltering slightly. "I... I can't reach, Y/N!" Her voice was strained, panic evident in her eyes as she struggled to maintain her precarious position.

"I got you!" You moved towards her and grabbed her hand, and for a moment it felt like everything between the two of you was perfect; that nothing had changed, that she still held your trust.

And then you kicked her away from the edge of the pod.

"Oh my god Corey, Y/N just kicked Becky off the pod!" Cole's shocked voice was drowned out by the cheers and gasps from the crowd as the camera panned onto the sadistic smirk on your face. 

You licked your lips as the sound of Becky's body hitting the mat echoed through the arena, a sickening thud that sent a chill down your spine.

The chaos around you, the loud exclamations from the commentators, the roar of the audience—it all seemed distant as your gaze remained fixated on Becky's prone form.

This is what you wanted. This is what she deserved. This is what you needed.

You turned to Tamina, who was knocked out next to you, and grabbed her from the corner of the pod, yanking her by the head and standing her up.

You grabbed her by the throat and looked down at how high you guys were up, and turned back to her with a chilling smile and choke slamming her all the way down to the ring, dropping the two of you from the top of the pod, crashing violently onto the mat below.

The pain from falling felt like a rush of adrenaline, a mix of exhilaration and agony that surged through your body. You laughed at Tamina's howl of pain and rolled her over to pin her.

"Tamina has been eliminated!"

The announcer's voice echoed through the arena, but all you could focus on was Becky's fallen form a few feet away from you. The sight of her lying motionless on the floor made you smile with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

The rush of power, the vindication, the culmination of all the betrayal and hurt fueled your actions. The cheers and gasps from the crowd became distant echoes in your ears, drowned out by the chaotic symphony of your own emotions.

You slowly stood up, never breaking eye contact with Becky's motionless figure. It was like a hunter relishing the sight of their prey, except in this instance, the prey was someone who had betrayed your trust, someone whose actions had fueled an uncontrollable rage within you.

You stalked toward Becky, every step deliberate, every movement calculated. The audience's reaction was a mix of shock, disbelief, and some even cheering at the audacity of your actions. But you were oblivious to it all, fixated solely on the fallen figure before you.

Standing over Becky's motionless body, a myriad of emotions churned within you—anger, hurt, and a dark satisfaction. The memories of betrayal flooded your mind, intensifying the storm of emotions raging inside you.

"You thought I forgot what you did to me, Becky?" Your voice was low, filled with a venomous intensity as you grabbed her head, your fingers curling around her hair. The crowd's hushed murmurs created a haunting backdrop to the tense moment, but your focus remained solely on Becky, on the feelings that surged within you.

"You thought you could just betray me and walk away unscathed?" The words dripped with malice as you pulled Becky up to her knees, your grip unyielding. Her eyes fluttered open, registering the danger in your demeanor as fear etched across her face.

"Y/N, please... I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I never wanted..." Becky's voice trembled, the desperation evident in her plea.

"You never wanted? You never wanted what, Becky?" Your voice rose, punctuated with bitterness and anger. "You never wanted to hurt me? You never wanted to lie to me?"

The memories flooded back, vivid and painful. Both good and bad.

When she hugged you the moment you won your first main roster title. When you snuck from everyone on a international tour in Italy from your time on the Indies and had gotten lost. When you both got signed to the WWE and threw a party and gotten so drunk Sami and Kevin had to carry you both back to your hotel rooms.

These memories flooded back in an instant, as if they were tugging at the last strings of sanity within you. But then you flickered back to the moment when that trust was shattered, when deceit became the foundation of your relationship with Becky.

"I trusted you! I trusted you more than anyone else!" Your voice cracked with emotion, the hurt resurfacing with a vengeance. "And you destroyed it all!"

Becky's attempts to plead or apologize fell on deaf ears. The betrayal had festered deep within, feeding the darkness that had consumed you. Your grip tightened on her hair, a vengeful glare fixed on her.

"But now... now you'll pay for what you did." With a sudden burst of rage, you slammed Becky's head onto the cold, unforgiving steel floor, a sickening thud echoing through the chamber.

The crowd's gasps and cries blended into a cacophony as you repeated the action, each strike fueled by the pain of betrayal, each impact a testament to the seething anger within you. The once vibrant and fearless Becky Lynch was now at your mercy, helpless against the onslaught.

"You thought I forgot everything you did to me?!" You screamed at her as you pushed her head into the steel cage, the clang of metal echoing the chaos within your own mind.

Becky's struggles weakened, her body becoming limp under the relentless assault. The rush of power surged through you with each strike, a grim satisfaction stemming from the torment inflicted upon the person who had shattered your trust.

"You don't get to apologize, Becky! You don't get to plead for forgiveness!" The words tore out of you, laced with an uncontainable rage that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. Each blow against the steel was a manifestation of the pain she had caused, an outlet for the betrayal that had gnawed at your soul.

You made her stand up, her knees buckling under the strain, her eyes pleading for mercy. But there was no mercy left in you, only the searing desire for retribution. With a cruel determination, you hoisted Becky up, making her lean against the unforgiving steel structure of the chamber.

"This is for everything you didi to me!" The words dripped with a cold ferocity as you speared her into the pod, the glass shattering upon impact. Becky's body crumpled amidst the debris, and you breathed out angrily at the sight.

The rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins, a mixture of vindication and a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over you as you stood there, heaving with exertion and emotion.

But you didn't stop there. You slowly stood up and grabbed her hair, pulling her up once again. Despite the exhaustion creeping into your bones, the rage and hurt refused to ebb away. You wanted her to feel every ounce of pain you had endured.

"You made me suffer, Becky. Now it's your turn." Your voice was a venomous whisper as you dragged her towards the chamber's unforgiving steel walls. The walls were slightly open from where Nia and Tamina had crashed into earlier, creating jagged edges that now served as a menacing backdrop to your vendetta.

You threw Becky down into the middle of the steel, and with a primal roar, slammed the steel wall into her injured arm. 

Becky's anguished scream pierced the air. Her body convulsed with pain, her face contorted in agony as she writhed on the unforgiving steel surface.  You slammed the door into her injured arm again and again, the metallic clang merging with her cries of agony. Each strike was fueled by the betrayal you felt, the pent-up rage finding release in the physical torment you were inflicting.

"You wanna have Seth? Go right ahead, I'll have something better- your title." You  spat out the words, each syllable filled with the bitterness of betrayal as you continued the onslaught. "The two of you can destroyed each other, for all I care!"

The chamber's atmosphere had turned eerily silent, save for Becky's agonized screams and the brutal sound of the steel door colliding with her arm. You didnt stop until Becky lay there, barely conscious, the torment etched into her features. Her arm hung at an unnatural angle, broken and battered from the relentless assault.

You leaned down and took the cast off of her injured arm, tossing it aside with disdain, before leaning down and retrieving the metal pole you had broken her arm with yesterday and smiled at the sight of it. Holding it aloft, a crazed grin etched on your face, you relished in the feeling of power coursing through your veins.

"You really thought I forgave you, Becky?  You thought I'd forget what you did? You thought wrong." Your voice was a sinister growl, dripping with malice as you towered over the battered and broken figure of Becky.

She lay there, barely able to move, her gaze filled with pain and shock as she looked up at you. She hoped to see mercy in your eyes, but all she found was a cold, unyielding resolve.

"You are worth nothing. The only thing worthy you have is that Raw Women's Championship, and I'm taking it." You lifted the metal pole, ready to strike again, your eyes filled with a ruthless determination. "And I'll take it by any means necessary."

Becky's howl of pain echoed through the chamber as you crashed the pole into her injured arm once more, a vicious determination driving each strike. The chamber seemed to amplify her anguished cries, the sound bouncing off the steel walls in a haunting symphony. You didn't relent, your movements fueled by an unquenchable thirst for revenge, the need to make her suffer as you had suffered.

You finally stopped when Becky's body convulsed in agony, her voice hoarse from screaming. The once defiant and confident champion now lay broken and defenseless beneath your relentless assault. You threw the metal pole to the side, staring down at her with a mix of satisfaction and a lingering bitterness.

This was it. This was your moment. This was your time.

You hauled Becky up by her hair, her body limp and broken, and dragged her to the ring, pulling her lifeless form through the ropes. The audience watched in shocked silence as you tossed her into the ring, her body barely responsive to the impact against the mat.

With a cold determination, you climbed into the ring, standing over Becky's battered form. The taste of vengeance was bitter on your tongue, but it was the only thing that gave you a semblance of satisfaction amidst the turmoil within. The desire for retribution had driven you to this point, and there was no turning back.

"You did this to yourself." You stated coldly, gently cradling Becky's head in your hands, forcing her to look up at you. Her eyes, once full of fire and confidence, were now clouded with pain and fear. But you felt no remorse, no empathy for the woman lying broken at your feet.

"This is what happens when you betray someone who trusted you, Becky," you continued, your voice laced with a chilling calmness. "You thought you could walk over me, but now, you lie here broken, defeated."

You pushed Becky's head back down to the mat with a disdainful shove, watching her writhe in pain. The taste of victory was bittersweet, the turmoil within you still raging despite the apparent domination you displayed.

"You said I was a sweet girl, Becky," you sneered, your voice tinged with contempt. "But you've awoken the darkness in me. And now, you'll pay the price."

You pulled her into a guittoine submission-courtesy of Roman- and tightened the hold with a sadistic grin, relishing in the agony evident on Becky's face and grabbing her injured arm and twisting it in a way that elicited a scream of agony from her.

"You made me this way, Becky!" Your voice echoed through the chamber, filled with a raw mixture of anger and vindication. "You made me unleash this darkness!"

You maintained the hold, ignoring the desperation in Becky's eyes, the pleas for mercy that fell on deaf ears. Every second felt like an eternity, and despite Becky's best efforts to resist, the pain and exhaustion took their toll. Her struggles weakened, her body succumbing to the relentless submission hold, and she tapped out in excruciating pain.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the match and your victory. The referee rushed in to separate you from Becky, who lay there, broken and defeated, the once-champion now a mere shadow of her former self.

But you didn't let go. You pushed at the security that tried to separate you, tightening even more and refusing to release the hold. The crowd's gasps turned into a chorus of boos as the officials struggled to pry you off, but your grip remained unyielding, a testament to the rage and vindictiveness that had consumed you.

"Let go, Y/N! You've won! It's over!" The referee's voice was a desperate plea, but you were deaf to reason. The need for retribution blinded you, overshadowing any semblance of rationality

"You see what you did?" You screamed at Becky, your voice filled with a chilling mix of triumph and fury.

"This is your fault! You made me do this!" The darkness was beginning to take over completely, clouding your thoughts and senses. The chaos around you seemed distant as you held on to the submission, refusing to release Becky even as she lay there, gasping for air, her face contorted in agony.

"Pretty girl, it's finished, you did it! Let her go!"

That was the only warning you got before Jey's arms wrapped around your waist and forcefully pulled you off of Becky, breaking the hold. You let Jey drag you away, the remnants of your dark rage still coursing through your veins. This was the backup plan- if you were too deep in your own darkness, Jey would be there to pull you back. You relaxed into his embrace, the remnants of your rage simmering beneath the surface but still boiling.

"You won. You did it, you won!" Jey exclaimed into your ear, attemtping to bring you back to reality. You managed a smile, a twisted satisfaction lingering on your lips.

"Gimme her fucking title!" You heard Jimmy arguing with the ref, and looked up to see him holding the Raw Women's Championship, a smile on his face as he moved towards you.

"You fucking won!" Jimmy cheered, hugging you tightly, lifting you off the ground in celebration. Elation and adrenaline is all you felt as you hugged him back tightly before he set you down, handing you your Raw Women's Championship.

The gold felt cold against your skin, a tangible symbol of the victory you had fought so ruthlessly for. The cheers from the audience were a distant hum as you clutched the title, a dark satisfaction washing over you.

"I won." You whispered softly, but Jey heard you. He smiled softly at you- you finally did it, finally captured the championship you sought so relentlessly.

"You did, and you deserve it." He opened his arms for you, and you didn't think twice before falling into the embrace, the chaotic storm within you weirdly subsiding slightly when you fell into his arms. You didn't have time to dwell on it before he pulled away and gently cupped your face in his hands. "You deserve it. Now show everyone why you the champ."

You looked down at the Raw Women's Championship in your hands, the gold reflecting the dim lights of the chamber, and held it high above your head, the sinister satisfaction still lingering in your eyes.

You finally had what you wanted, the Raw Women's Championship, and the whole women's locker room fearing your name. You didn't care if they respected you, because fear was the true power.

Jimmy and Jey stood on either side of you, holding up their hands in a one sign, the three of you standing tall, an embodiment of ruthless dominance, and leaving more questions than answers in the minds of the WWE Universe.

Why were you with the Bloodline? Why did you unleash such brutality on Becky Lynch? Why were Jimmy and Jey by your side in this calculated rampage?

They'd get their answers soon.

"You did good. I'm proud of you." Roman smiled at you with a hint of approval  and something else you couldn't pick up on as you came to the back, bringing you into a dark embrace. "You showed them what it means to be a true champion," he continued, his voice low and resonant. "No one will underestimate you again."

You nodded at Roman when he pulled away from you, the darkness in his eyes mirroring the intensity you felt within yourself. "I appreciate it, Roman. It's just the beginning. There's a lot more they haven't seen yet." Your voice held a quiet determination, the fire within you still burning bright. Roman nodded in understanding, a sense of mutual understanding passing between the two of you.

Roman turned to Jimmy and Jey, who were standing next to you with a mix of satisfaction, concern, and pride. "You guys need to deliver too. Jey, get ready for your match. Jimmy, go back to the locker room, I'll take Y/N to the trainers and we'll be back."

Jey furrowed his brows at Roman's command, a slight tension in the air. "You sure you're good, Y/N?" he asked, his concern genuine.

You gave a nod, the dark satisfaction still lingering in your eyes. "I'm fine, Jey. Just go out there and do what you do best. We'll handle the aftermath later."

Jey was confused at Roman's decision. Roman never offered to take someone to the trainers unless there was a significant reason. He didn't think it was smart to have your anger clash with Roman's but he trusted Roman's judgment and giving you one last hug, headed towards the entrance ramp for his match.

Roman  led you towards the trainers' area, his steps deliberate and his expression unreadable. Anyone who tried to cross your path would be stopped by Roman's glare that cut through the air like a knife. As you walked side by side with Roman, you couldn't help but feel a sense of validation. You had proven your worth in the most brutal way possible, and now you were under the protection of the Tribal Chief himself.

The trainers' room was a mix of antiseptic smells and the low hum of conversations. The medical staff looked up as Roman entered, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of you, still in your ring gear, holding the Raw Women's Championship. Roman's presence demanded respect, and they quickly shuffled to clear a space for you.

Roman gestured for you to take a seat on one of the medical benches. "Sit down. Let them check you out," he commanded, his voice carrying a stern authority.

The trainers approached cautiously, assessing the visible signs of the intense match you had just endured. They checked for any potential injuries, bruises, or signs of a concussion, but you remained stoic and unresponsive to their efforts. Roman observed with a watchful eye, ensuring that everything was done to his satisfaction.

As the medical staff continued their examination, Roman's gaze never wavered from you. There was a complex mix of emotions in his eyes—pride, perhaps a hint of admiration, and something else that remained elusive. He didn't say much, but his silent presence spoke volumes.

"Don't do that." He piped up when you tried to calm your anger down slightly, his voice cutting through the silence in the room.

"What?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"Don't try to suppress it. Embrace it," Roman said, his tone unwavering. "You showed them what you're capable of tonight. Let that darkness fuel your dominance. The more they fear you, the more control you have. I need that tonight."

You nodded at Roman's cold wisdom, but furrowed your brows at his last sentence. "What do you mean, 'I need that tonight'?"

Roman's expression remained enigmatic, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "You trust me right? Trust our friendship?"

You nodded slowly, uncertain about where this conversation was heading but choosing to trust Roman's judgment. "Of course, Roman. You know I do."

"And I've never betrayed you, right?" 

You stared into Roman's eyes, searching for any hidden motives. "No, Roman. You've always had my back."

"Good." Roman's smile deepened, revealing a rare sense of camaraderie. "Tonight, you've proven yourself. Now, I need you to trust me a little more. I have a plan, and I need you to play a crucial part in it. Can I count on you?"

You studied Roman's face, his eyes holding a mysterious glint. "Of course, Roman. I trust you," you replied, determination in your voice. "Whatever you need, I'm in."

Roman's smile widened. "Against my better judgement, and my ego, I know that Kevin will be the one to win that number one contender's match against Jey tonight. I need him to be the one challenging for my Universal Championship. But I also need him softened up, vulnerable. That's where you come in."

Roman's plan started to unfold, and you listened intently to his instructions. As he laid out the details, you realized the significance of your role in the larger scheme. The darkness within you, the dominance you had displayed in the Elimination Chamber, was now a strategic asset for Roman's plan.

"I need you to make a statement, Y/N. Show everyone in that match, and especially Kevin Owens, that you're not just a champion—they should fear you," Roman explained, his voice a low rumble that resonated with authority.

"I know you and Kevin have a history, and you and Sami as well. But when the cards are on the table, Kevin will always choose to backstab you. Will always choose to betray you. How many years have you given him chances? How many times has he let you down?"

Roman's words resonated, stirring up the memories of past betrayals and the pain that accompanied them. 

"When was the last time you gave him a chance and he didn't disappoint?" Roman's question hung in the air, the weight of the truth behind it sinking in. "This is your opportunity, Y/N. Take it. Show everyone that you're not to be taken lightly, and in doing so, finally get the revenge for the years of betrayals. And as for Sami-"

Roman sensed your smoldering anger and paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

"Sami Zayn is an annoyance, a distraction. He might be your friend, so I am giving you the leniency to deal with him swiftly, efficiently. But what matters is  making it clear that anyone who stands in your way will face the consequences."

If you were in any other mental state, and didn't feel the smoldering anger  within you, you would have hesitated and questioned Roman's motives, told him you wouldn't hurt your best friends.

But in this current state, you couldn't think clearly. The darkness within you, fueled by the betrayal and the desire for retribution, clouded your judgment, and Roman's words only resonated and fueled that anger.

And that was Roman's plan all along.

Make you so angry and unleashing that dark side so that you couldn't see your morals in jeapordy, the bigger picture, couldn't question the morality of the actions he was asking you to take. In that moment, you were a pawn in his game, a tool to achieve his objectives.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but trust me, Y/N. This is the path we need to walk to secure our dominance," Roman concluded, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that brooked no argument. "As long as you're with me, as long as you embrace that darkness within you, there's nothing we can't achieve."

You nodded, a cold determination settling within you. The darkness, once a mere undercurrent, now surged to the forefront, shaping your thoughts and actions. "I'm with you, Roman. Whatever it takes to secure our dominance."

Roman clasped your shoulder, a silent acknowledgment passing between the two of you. "Get ready, Y/N. Go to Jimmy. It's time to make a statement."

You watched on the screen as the Men's Elimination Chamber match was taking place, bodies being violently thrown against the steel, the carnage unfolding inside the chamber. The raw aggression and brutality were palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had set the tone for the night.

Jey, Sami, Kevin, Daniel Bryan, and Cesaro were all engaged in a fierce battle for the opportunity to challenge Roman Reigns for the Universal Championship. As the chaos unfolded, you could feel the anticipation building, knowing that your part in Roman's plan was about to come into play.

You winced as Kevin tossed Sami into the steel structure, the impact echoing through the arena. Jimmy patted your back as a silent comfort, and Roman turned to you at the movement. 

"You see what he does to his so called best friends, Y/N?" Roman's voice held a mix of disdain and calculated satisfaction. "This is your chance to make them understand, to make Kevin Owens understand, that betrayal comes with consequences."

You nodded in agreement, your eyes fixed on the screen as the chaos continued to unfold. You let out a sigh of relief as Kevin hit Sami with a stunner to pin him for the three count. At least you didn't have to hurt your Sami directly, but the next part of Roman's plan was now in motion.

Cesaro and Bryan were fighting on the top of one of the pods, each trying to gain the upper hand. Kevin and Jey were slamming each other into the steel cage, the sounds of bodies colliding reverberating through the arena. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and Roman's plan was inching closer to its climax.

1.

Cesaro was pinned by Daniel, who had just delivered a brutal running knee. The referee counted, and Cesaro was eliminated.

2. 

Jey managed to eliminate Daniel Bryan with a superkick, leaving only Kevin Owens and Jey Uso as the remaining competitors.

3.

Kevin hit a Pop-up Powerbomb on Jey Uso followed by a stunner, securing the victory and earning the right to challenge Roman Reigns for the Universal Championship.

"Now!" Roman roared at you, a command that snapped you out of your intense focus on the screen.

 It was time.

Jey, angry after being eliminated, stomped on Kevin, not allowing him a moment of respite after the grueling match. You followed Roman's lead, storming down the ramp with a determined stride and Jimmy right behind you.

Jey had Kevin trapped in between the steel steps and the chamber wall, delivering relentless stomps and kicks. The exhaustion from the match was evident on Kevin's face, but the anger in Jey's eyes fueled the assault.

"Y/N, make your move," Roman's voice echoed through the arena, urging you to unleash the darkness within.

“Y/N!” Jey screamed through the cell, beckoning you to join him.

 You looked to Roman; and any slight hesitation you might’ve had was washed away by the adrenaline coursing through your veins and Roman’s relentless gaze that was a silent demand for loyalty. If you backed out now, the consequences were grave. 

You stepped into the chamber, the cold steel beneath your boots sending shivers up your spine. Jey motioned for you to come closer to him, and it was like he sensed your inner conflict, giving you a comforting and encouraging look.

The anticipation in the air was palpable as you approached Jey, the steel structure enclosing both of you in a sinister dance of betrayal and loyalty.

“Do it!” Jey roared, his eyes filled with intensity. He kicked Kevin to make sure he stayed down before turning back to you, holding the steel doors open. “Do it, Y/N!”

And for just a second, you felt the weight of the moment, torn between loyalty and the darkness Roman demanded. You were sobered from the darkness, and for a split second, you stared at Kevins face, and wondered, just wondered, if the roles were switched, if Kevin would choose you. 

And just like that, the moment ended. 

“Ahh!” Kevin groaned out in pain when you took over from Jey, and just like you did with Becky, slammed the steel cage into Kevin’s arm, the steel deliciously meeting flesh.

 The impact reverberated through the chamber, a savage exclamation of your allegiance to the Tribal Chief. You slammed the steel into his arm over and over again, yelling at Kevin to stay down. 

“I told you to stay out of my business!” You screamed with each vicious strike, the sound echoing in the unforgiving steel chamber. “I told you to stay away from Roman! But you never listen!”

 Your voice was filled with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration, the echoes bouncing off the cold steel walls. “You never listen to me! You never CHOOSE ME!” 

You rammed the steel cage into Kevin's arm one final time before letting go of the steel, leaving him writhing in pain on the unforgiving steel floor. You were breathing just as heavily as you ran your hands across the cold steel cage, the darkness within you pulsating with a newfound intensity. 

Your loyalty to Roman was now etched in the vicious strikes you delivered to Kevin. The symbolism of the steel meeting flesh resonated with the dominance Roman sought, and you had become the instrument of his will.

Jey wrapping an arm around your shoulder jolted you out of your thoughts, and you looked up at him, meeting his beautiful brown eyes that no longer held fear about your loyalty.  

The Tribal Chief stood outside the chamber, a satisfied smirk on his face, witnessing the culmination of your allegiance. The crowd's mixed reactions were drowned out by the satisfaction in Roman's gaze.

 Jey squeezed your shoulder and brought you closer to him as Roman made his way towards the ring, the Universal Championship draped over his shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you.” Jey whispered into your ear, his words barely audible over the fading echoes of the chaos you had unleashed. His lips grazed your ear, and the tension in the chamber slowly shifted to a moment of eerie calm. “Kevin didn’t pick you, but I chose you, Y/N.”

You know this is the part where the guilt should hit you, but it didn’t. Why would you feel guilty? You warned Kevin that you were a force to be reckoned with, that loyalty to Roman Reigns was your priority.

And what did he do?

Kevin defied your warnings, and now he had to pay the price. And you knew that if the roles were reversed and you were in Kevin's place, he wouldn't have shown you any mercy. 

So why should you extend a courtesy he wouldn't offer?

You would only feel guilty if you hurt Sami, and thankfully Sami was eliminated before the crucial moment.  Was it fate? You didn’t know. But what you did know was that you had proven your allegiance to Roman in the most brutal fashion, and you didn’t regret it one bit. 

Your head snapped towards Roman when he entered the ring, a smirk of satisfaction on his face. The Tribal Chief's presence commanded attention, and he nodded approvingly at the scene before him—the aftermath of your loyalty displayed in a brutal ballet of steel and flesh.

"You've made the right choice," Roman declared, his voice authoritative. He brought you into a dominant embrace, his hand gripping the back of your neck. The intensity in his eyes mirrored the satisfaction of a plan executed flawlessly. “I’m proud of you. Do you acknowledge me?”

You pulled away from Roman, a cold determination in your eyes. "I acknowledge you, Tribal Chief," you responded, the weight of those words resonating with a sense of finality.

Roman smiled at your words, a predatory glint in his eyes. His plan had come to fruition, and now he held not only the Universal Championship but also an unwavering allegiance from you, and that would not only hurt Kevin physically, but also leave an indelible mark on his psyche, solidify his dominance in the WWE and also secure your place by his side.

And that was the night you fully embraced the darkness, fully committing to Roman Reigns as the Tribal Chief.

"You wanted a match with me, Kevin?" Roman continued, tauntingly addressing the writhing Kevin Owens on the cold steel floor. He leaned down, his face inches from Kevin's, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"Well, you got it. Get up." Roman straightened up, never breaking eye contact with Kevin. "Jey, Jimmy, grab him. Y/N, stand back," Roman commanded, and you complied without hesitation.

Jey and Jimmy, sensing Roman's desire for a prolonged punishment, dragged Kevin up. The once defiant fighter now seemed broken and battered, a shell of his former self.

Roman circled Kevin like a predator closing in on its prey. He reveled in the moment, savoring the defeat he orchestrated. The crowd's cheers or jeers were inconsequential; all that mattered was the dominance he asserted over the WWE and the loyalty you had pledged.

Jey and Jimmy lowered Kevin to the ground on his knees, and Roman chuckled at the pitiful sight before him. The Tribal Chief stood tall, the Universal Championship glistening in the harsh arena lights. Roman's eyes bore into Kevin, the intensity of his gaze almost suffocating.

"Look at me." When Kevin refused to comply, Roman harshly yanked Kevin's face up by his hair. "I said, look at me."

Kevin's eyes met Roman's, a mix of defiance and pain still lingering. Roman chuckled again, a dark amusement coloring the sound.

"You thought you could beat me? Challenge me? Take my place?" Roman's voice dripped with disdain, his words a venomous reminder of the consequences of defiance. "You never had a chance, Kevin."

With a swift motion, Roman delivered a thunderous Superman Punch, the impact sending Kevin sprawling to the mat. The crowd's reactions were drowned out by the dominant presence of the Tribal Chief.

"Your mistake was not acknowledging me," Roman continued, pacing around the fallen Kevin. "You see, Y/N understands. Loyalty is everything. And you seriously thought she would choose you over me when you have no loyalty? When you betrayed her trust time and time again?" Roman's voice was filled with a cold certainty, his words cutting through the air like a razor.

"I might hurt her, but I won't let anyone else hurt her." Kevin spat blood onto the cold steel floor, his defiance unwavering even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Roman chuckled at Kevin's feeble attempt to maintain his pride.

"You think she believes you Kevin? Look at her." Kevin weakly raised his head to glance at you. The conflict in your eyes was replaced with a steely resolve, a clear reflection of the choice you had made. Roman's smirk widened at the sight, the confirmation of your allegiance bringing him a sense of triumph.

"She will never forgive you. She will never be by your side again, she will never be your best friend again. And you know whose fault it is that she choose me? You." Roman laughed, a sinister satisfaction in his tone. "You pushed her away, and now she's where she belongs."

"You see, Y/N," Roman said, turning his attention to you, "this is the price of betrayal. Loyalty is not just a word; it's an action. And tonight, you've shown where your allegiance lies."

He gestured for you to step forward, and you did so with a mix of pride and reluctance. Roman handed you the Universal Championship, the weight of the title in your hands a symbolic gesture of your newfound allegiance.

"Finish it," Roman commanded, his eyes locked onto yours. The crowd's murmurs and gasps filled the arena as you stood over Kevin, holding the championship that now represented your loyalty to the Tribal Chief.

Your eyes locked with Kevins, and you could see the pain and betrayal in his gaze. The conflict within you briefly resurfaced, but Roman's dominance held you in its grip.

"You're not their blood, and even if you were, they'd never treat you like family." Kevin coughed out, his words strained. The bitter taste of defeat mixed with defiance lingered in the air.

"And you are?" You spat at him, the darkness within you responding to Roman's influence. The crowd's boos and cheers seemed distant, drowned out by the intensity of the moment.

"You know the answer to that." Kevin's voice trembled with a mix of pain and disappointment, steeling himself for what he knew was coming. For a second, you hesitated, the weight of Kevin's words lingering in the air. But then, as if on cue, Roman's gaze bore into yours, a silent command to complete your task.

You slammed the title onto Kevin's face with a resounding thud, making him crumple to the mat, sealing your fate with Kevin's defeat.

Roman laughed proudly, raising your hand along with the Universal Championship. The arena erupted in a mix of cheers and boos, but none of it mattered in the face of the dominance Roman had asserted, and you had willingly embraced.

"Ring the bell." Roman ordered at the referee outside the ring, who seemed hesitant but complied with Roman's command. Roman easily pinned Kevin for the three-count, making Kevin's efforts in vain.

The referee signaled for the bell, declaring Roman Reigns the winner, the Universal Champion who had not only conquered Kevin Owens physically but also broken his spirit in the most ruthless manner with you by his side.

You had done it. Proven your loyalty, passed the test, proven that you are the champion you said you are, and that you were willing to go to any lengths for the Tribal Chief.

And as you stared at Kevin lying defeated on the cold steel mat, the red blood drying on his face, your own title wrapped around your waist, you felt a surge of power, the intoxicating allure of victory and loyalty.

You looked down at the red stained title in your hands, the metallic taste of triumph in the air.

Red.

Red was definitely your favorite color now.

"I think we gotta talk about us now." Jey moaned out as you straddled his waist and kissed down his neck in the confines of your hotel room, high on adrenaline and power. The room was dimly lit, and the shadows played on the walls, mirroring the complexities of the choices you had made in the ring.

"Later." You sucked on the sweet spot on his neck, hoping to distract him from the conversation you needed to have. The taste of victory still lingered on your lips, and the primal energy from the ring had seeped into the intimacy of the hotel room.

Jey's hands gripped your hips, his breath hitching at your touch. "Wait, wait-fuck." Jey groaned as you licked a stripe on his chest, savoring the lingering taste of triumph.

"Y/N," he managed to say, catching your attention. You paused, looking into his eyes, the darkness within you still flickering like a flame.

"Is this not okay?" You asked softly, gently tracing your fingers along his jawline. Jey sighed, a mix of pleasure and contemplation in his eyes.

"It's more than okay. It's perfect," he admitted, his hands now cupping your face. "But you made a choice, a powerful one. You embraced the darkness for Roman, for us."

You leaned back, studying Jey's expression. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a desire to understand the depth of your commitment. "Jey, I did what I had to do. Roman needed me, and I made the right choice."

Jey nodded, but there was a hint of concern in his gaze. "Did you do it for just him, or for me too?"

You met Jey's gaze, your mind processing the weight of his question. The room, once filled with the aftermath of triumph, now felt heavy with unspoken truths. Your allegiance to Roman had solidified, but what did it mean for the connection you shared with Jey?

"I did it for both of you," you admitted, your voice steady. "I did it for the family, for the unity. Roman needed my loyalty, and in choosing him, I'm choosing all of us."

You shifted so that you were now sitting beside Jey, your fingers tracing abstract patterns on his chest. "I want to be with you, I want to have you in any way that you'll let me." You paused, the intensity of the moment hanging in the air. Jey remained silent, his eyes searching yours for sincerity.

"I want us to be powerful together, Jey," you continued, your voice a gentle whisper. "I don't want to lose what we have, but I had to prove myself to Roman, to the family. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

Jey sighed, his fingers gently grazing over your intertwined hands. "And how do you feel about me?"

You looked at him as if he should already know the answer. "Jey, I had the option to back away from all this, to grab that title and hit you with it, but I didn't. I chose this, I chose Roman, and I chose you. I feel… conflicted, yet empowered. This is the path I've taken, and I want you with me on this journey."

You tightened your grip on Jey's hand, seeking reassurance. "I like you, and I want us to be together. I want there to be an us. We can take it slow, I think we both need that after tonight."

Jey took in your words, the complexity of the situation reflected in his eyes. He nodded slowly, a mixture of understanding and acceptance in his expression. His beautiful brown eyes locked onto yours, and he brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm with you, Y/N," Jey said, his voice a reassuring murmur. "Whatever path you choose, I'm riding with you. Just promise me one thing."

You looked at him, waiting for his request.

"No matter what happens, no matter what Roman says or does, you never turn your back on me." Jey squeezed your hand even tighter. "I've had too many people turn their backs on me, and I can't handle losing you like that. Even if Kevin and Sami try to drive a wedge between us, promise me you won't let them succeed."

Jey pressed his forehead against yours, and you could feel the vulnerability in his plea. "Promise me you won't leave me."

"I promise, Jey," you whispered, your fingers gently tracing the contours of his face. "I won't turn my back on you. No matter what."

It felt like hours as you waited for Jey to respond. The room held its breath, the air heavy with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Jey broke out into a genuine, heartfelt smile, and in one swift motion, pulled you into his lap and brought you into a mind numbing kiss.

He licked at your lips, his hands exploring the contours of your body, a mixture of passion and reassurance in his touch. Every touch felt like heaven, every kiss felt like he was bringing you to life after the darkness of the ring.

"You can't leave me." That statement was backed up by the hard press of his lips against yours.

"I won't." A promise from you that was reassured with the soft caress of your tongue in his mouth. And for the rest of the night, the two of you lost yourselves in reassuring each other, not caring who heard or what consequences awaited in the world outside, and you realized that the anger subsided with every touch of his, and with every dampening of it came with an ease you only ever felt with one other person.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, that one other person stood outside your hotel room, heart dropping at the sounds of passion and commitment emanating from within. Sami had pretend to the hotel clerk that he was your manager, needing to check on you after the intense match.

The truth was, he wanted to make things right with you after seeing everything that happened tonight, wanted to try to get the woman he lov- the woman who was his best friend, back.

He had come bearing a bouquet of flowers, and two tickets to Montreal, to see your family that he knew you missed, ready to apologize and express his feelings. However, the sounds of intimacy between you and Jey shattered his hopes like fragile glass.

Sami's heart sank, realizing that he might have lost you for good. That should be him making you feel loved and wanted, not Jey. He leaned against the wall outside your room, the weight of the realization hitting him hard.

The bouquet of flowers in his hands and the gift bag suddenly felt like a pathetic offering in the face of the passion and commitment he could hear behind the door. The satisfaction he had at seeing Kevin broken in the ring was now overshadowed by the bitter taste of his own defeat in matters of the heart.

Sami took a deep breath, fighting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't bring himself to knock on the door, to interrupt the intimate moment between you and Jey.

Instead, he turned away, his steps heavy as he walked down the corridor, leaving the flowers and tickets at your doorstep, a silent acknowledgment of his failed attempt to win you back.

Before he went to the elevator, the sadness that enveloped him left and was replaced by motivation. You were his best friend, and he couldn't let this be the end. Sami would find a way to make things right, to prove to you that he could change and be the person you needed.

As the elevator doors closed, Sami took a deep breath, a determined glint in his eyes. He wasn't gonna let Jey win this without a fight. Sami had lost the battle tonight, but he was ready to wage a war for your heart.

Sami would do anything to make you see that he was the one who truly cared about you, who had been there for you through thick and thin, to have you in his life.

Even if that took hours, days months, or years, he would find a way to win you back. He had some business to take care of first with matters of the IC title, but eventually he would focus on winning back your heart.

Sami Zayn walked away from your hotel room, determined to prove that he was the one who deserved your loyalty and love.

And he would do anything, even join the Bloodline, to prove it.

[mishacakes]

how do you connect to your character? like how do get to know them so well? how do you pick out their likes, dislikes, habits and those itty bitty bits about them? I've been struggling to do that for sooo many of my ocs, and i'm also at a lost of how to design them. like i once had a clear idea of what kind of character they are, but i wanted to change them a bit, make them a little better, and i feel like I've lost that character and that character i'm working on doesn't exists, no matter how much i loved them and enjoyed writing an drawing them. this has happened with every single character i made and it just makes me think that i may not be cut out for drawing or writing characters. i look up to you so i thought of asking you for help

sry for the long rant idk wat im doing

HELLO HELLO THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! So basically I took this question and turned it into a 1.6k word essay on writing characters and how I like to do it, so, uh, hope you enjoy!! and hope it helps!

OK!! character writing. How do you do it? or, well, how do I do it. I’ve got a few methods that help me out the most and are the most fun for me to think about. Here’s my big secret, if it’s not fun I don’t do it. I’m not here to do homework I’m waaayyyy out of school. I’m a legal adult. I pay my taxes. I’m not gonna do something that doesn’t give my brain the good fun juice. Anyways. My methods are: symbols, archetypes, and character inspiration. I use all these to figure out the CORE of a character, their very beating heart, and most importantly, what haunts them. Everything about a character, in my opinion, comes from this core and their ghost. Their habits, their fears, their joys, their coping mechanisms. So long as you have a clear grasp on their heart, you won’t go astray. Let’s dive into it! The characters I’m going to be using to describe how I use these methods are Alice and others characters from my webcomic—namely Edith, Hatter, and Rougina—and Tomiko (you know her you love her, catgirl supreme).

Symbols! I love using symbols, they’re something that can describe a character through metaphor, even without going into detail about their whole backstory and habits. Tomiko’s symbols are lanterns (specifically light), cats, ghosts/yokai, shapeshifting, and gold. They all work to further her character as a rough around the edges monster cat with a heart of gold, who uses shapeshifting as a method (both literally and metaphorically) to mold herself into what others need her to be. Alice’s symbols are hearts, eyes, and flesh in general. Try picking one general symbol (the ocean, the forest, the city), and see how specific you can get from there. Or pick a god or goddess that resonates with your character and see what symbols are used for them. Rougina (the antagonist in my webcomic) is a war goddess fallen from grace, and is symbolized with land and volcanoes, so I’ve used volcanic plants to evoke her. Personally I also love going through the tarot for symbols, assigning a tarot card to characters (of the major arcana) is a fun exercise. Which leads us nicely into our next method:

Archetypes! The tarot deck’s Major Arcana is pretty much only archetypes. The Empress as the Mother. The Magician as the Wise Mentor. The Tower as The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen Oh Jesus Shit. These can help a lot with who your character is. I’m extremely storytelling oriented, so it helps me knowing What Role a character serves in the story they inhabit. Another thing I love in archetypes in the Zodiac. Yes, I am an astrology bitch. The whole reason I love talking about my methods is my Sag rising, I love giving my wisdoms. But astrology can be used for writing, and not just for excusing and not reflecting on shit behavior (can’t help being a gemini!). The zodiac is FILLED WITH ARCHETYPES!!! From elements to how they function! The four elements (you A:TLA bitches know this), and three modalities. If you’re interested please watch Eugene’s Rank King video, it’s very informative on the signs. Also many symbols! For example, Alice is a Taurus—May 4, Alice Liddell’s birthday—so she’s pretty stubborn while also loving creature comforts. Tomiko’s birthday is August 23, making her a Virgo, so she likes being precise in her work. More archetypes you can look for are DnD classes! I love using that to design costumes. One of Edith’s recent costumes is very wizard inspired, since that’s the class I see her having as she’s very studious and driven. Heck, all of Alice and the Nightmare is derived from the character archetypes of the Alice in Wonderland characters! Rougina is specifically the Red Queen, NOT the Queen of Hearts!! The confusion started with the 1951 Disney animated movie when the two characters were merged!! Lewis Carroll himself said the two were different! The Queen of Hearts is an “embodiment of ungovernable passion” and the Red Queen is “the concentrated essence of all governesses”!! GOD!!! Tim Burton meet me in the fucking pit you’ll pay for your alice crimes. anyways.

Archetypes help a lot in costumes too, figuring out what kind of fashion they’d like to wear. You can start broad and get more specific with it (like going from a wizard type character to a wizard character with steampunk themes). Fashion is just an extent of character. What are they comfy in? Are they confident in their body? What colors do they like? Bright high fashion or simple dark sweaters? Ryoko Kui is a master of character design I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend checking out her work.

Another method I like using, specifically for Alice and the Nightmare characters, is what I call the “three trait method”. When I was in middle school we did a production of Alice in Wonderland (I was the White Knight), and too many girls auditioned for Alice. So the director’s solution was to split the character into three parts, and assigning each part to an actor. Her temper, her intelligence, and her innocence, all used in different scenes. Now I use that to think about my own Alice character, except with “polite, temper, and curious”. Edith’s keywords are “nervous, tactical, and intelligent”. Hatter’s are “kind, enthusiastic, and intuitive”. Using keywords can help figure out how they’d react in a situation, what side of them would shine the brightest. Hatter’s want to help everyone is his kindness, but overstepping his bounds can be attributed to his enthusiasm. Edith can know what path to take in a pinch, but her nervousness can freeze her in place. Reading the source material helps a lot with Alice characters too, which brings us to our final point:

Character inspiration!! The art of taking things you like and shoving them into your own characters and stories. DISCLAIMER THO!!! If you take things without really EXAMINING what about them you like, WHY you like them, and how you’d like to evoke that same love in the things you make, the interpretations can come off as shallow. (for more on this subject, watch HBomberguy’s RWBY video essay, specifically the section on “anime homework”)

Tomiko’s biggest inspirations are Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi, April Ludgate from Parks and Rec, Power and Reze from Chainsawman, San from Princess Mononoke, and Mei from LMK. It’s a good cocktail of aloof, biting, vicious, weird, fierce, loving, and bright. Figuring out what I love about the characters and what I want to write in a character like that helps a lot in writing Tomiko. It’s also really fun in a sense for screenshot redraws and memes.

Music is also a HUUUUUUGE source of inspiration for me, I love making playlists. And even as playlists can change as characters grow and change, having a couple of core songs still helps me ground to that character’s center. For Tomiko it’s “Make Them Gold” by CHVRCHES, and “Nice Girl” by Ashnikko. Alice’s is “Headlock” by Imogen Heap and “Demons” by Hayley Kiyoko, Edith’s is “Warrior” by Kimbra, and Hatter’s is “Dementia” by Owl City.

Ok, we’ve gotten though symbols, archetypes, and made a couple of banger playlists. Next is something that can help write your character, the Big Lie. The thing that keeps them up at night. Their biggest fear, their ghost, what haunts them. What’s holding them back from their goals? What do they need to overcome? That can be as central to their theme as any symbolism. For Tomiko it’s the lie that her emotions don’t matter, only what she can do to be of service to her mother. Her arc is about overcoming her dismissing her own emotions and learning to not run away from the people who she truly cares for. Alice dismisses the literal ghost that is haunting her believing that that will let her have a normal life. Edith pushes down abilities that come naturally to her for fear that she’ll be exiled, not just from society, but the world. Rougina believes she must burden the world’s problems on her own shoulders with no one’s help. The outer character and the inner ghost can reflect, mirror, and inform each other.

Now, listen, sometimes characters are hard to get to know! Tomiko was lol. Quinn was for a looong time. And in times like this, I just, let them be. I listen to some music to get inspired, and let them tell me about themselves when they feel like it. And they will, it just take a little while. And a few dozen quick exploration drawings. But they come through. Also, try not to get bogged down with habits and little details of their character, keep their core in mind, what their heart is. Start broad and get specific. That way, if you feel like you’ve lost your way or the character feels different to you, recenter yourself at their heart and go from there. Or, if you find that their center no longer fits, don’t be afraid to change it! Characters are meant to be fun! First and foremost!! I make characters cause I like writing and storytelling, and drawing little comic for fun and me time. Sometimes characters stick around, sometimes they fall by the wayside. You really have to find what sparks joy, and chase your bliss!

So as long as you have your character’s essence in your hands, and you WANT to keep working on them and drawing them, there’s really no wrong way to go. This whole essay I’ve given is just a set of tools that works for ME, and I HIGHLY encourage you to find stuff that works for you! I really really hope that all this has made sense and isn’t just the ramblings of a madman. Good luck and happy charactering!!

[operafantomet]

Hi there. Idk if this question has been asked before, but where do they find the fabric for the mandarin coat?

I'd say there are as many answers as there are versions of the costume. But some pointers:

Many of the early versions were made with partly antique embroidered textiles from the Qing dynasty. These were a popular collector's item in the 19th and 20th century, to the point where some of them were never intended for use in China, they were made as souvenirs. The original design by Maria Bjørnson suggests antique Chinese fabrics, with a hem showing the classic water-and-mountain motif, the collar being a cloud collar usually seen in women's attires, and the hat a decorated winter hat.

Even if all these costumes are made from scratch rather than bought, I thought it could be interesting to compare it to a similar authentic Chinese robe - without the collar - dated to the 1890s and sold by Augusta Auctions some years ago:

This robe has a badge - an insignia of rank and position of a Mandarin official in the Qing dynasty. These were used both on the chest and back, and the bird or otherwise animal told onlookers all they needed to know, if the person was a civil or military employee, and how high up in the system they were. The badge is not featured in Bjørnson's design, but it has showed up in a few costumes. Maybe most proninently in Michael Crawford's original West End costume, which Bjørnson would have supervised:

To my eye it looks like many of the elder costumes (up until c. 2005) used a lot of antique or vintage fabrics, but used on a new base. Details to look for is distinct gold couching, re-used badges, special dragon embroideres, antique collars and tabards, fringework etc. I am quite convinced some of these are antique or vintage details, like the China blue tabard with water and mountain motif used by John Owen-Jones in West End c. 2002:

The cuff and details on one of the original Australian robes, and continued to shine in the World Tour up until 2015 or so:

The tabard of the Swedish/Danish version, first made in 1989 and still in use in 2019 (maybe not too visible in the stage photo, but definitely when seen up close backstage!):

As a contrast, newer costumes tends to be brassier and bigger, with less embroidery and more appliquées and trims. It looks to me like they mostly rely on new fabrics and materials, maybe with some elements of elder embroidery. This collar made for Ben Lewis in West End is a good example:

And the recent German version, here seen on Mathias Edenborn in Hamburg. It's a costume I got to study up close and I couldn't spot any particular details that looked old:

And this Broadway robe with what looks like a very new firefly pattern brocade and embroidered gold trims appliquéed on:

So why this change? I guess it depends on what is available. Qing textiles has become more rare on the open market, and more expensive. Elder textiles are also more fragile, while new textiles will handle wear and tear, dry cleaning etc. better. Some of these costumes are used on stage up to eight times a week, after all.

Due to the fragility of elder textiles, they may have to cover the embroidery with fine mesh. This dulls down the effect and makes the costume heavier, so it's not always ideal. Better then to use new stuff. Here's an early 1990 West End one covered with mesh, to protect the embroidery:

A last aspect is of course that by using elder textiles you may put specific meaning-bearing motifs on which ideally shouldn't be there. The beautiful embroidered Indian fabric with elephants and swastikas - in India a symbol of the sun and good luck - which appeared in an unfortunate Danish Elissa skirt is a good example. Luckilly the costume crew knew what they were doing by including the five bats - for good luck - on this Broadway Mandarin robe:

If you plan on making your own costume, I would say: Create the base of a Chinese brocade (silk or synthetic) with predominantely black or dark blue base and polychrome pattern. As an inspiration, here's the robe, collar and tabard - fairly undecorated - in making for Scott Davies (top) and Ben Lewis (bottom) in West End, with photos generously shared by head-of-costume Ceris Donovan:

For the back: Go for a main motif, and build everything around that. And layer! Gems upon trims upon embroideries upon fabrics. The more structure, embroidery, couching and details the various materials has, the better. And then add some on top of that.

Note that it varies if a production do both the robe, cloud collar and tabard. Some production only do two of these, some do all three. But whatever the case, the costume with hat should create angles, texture and lines that makes him stand out from the previous scene, where he wore black and white and tight-fitting clothes.

In West End I think they source it in the many amazing fabric shops in Brixton and Soho, including Borovicks, as well as antique dealers. For Broadway I know a lot was bought in the fabric district in NYC. Other productions may be equipped with fabrics and trims from these, or they may source their own materials locally. I also noticed that the Chinese (left) and Japanese (right) productions tend to use more red and purple fabrics for their versions, which I would think was also locally sourced:

So yeah. As many answers as there are versions out there...

[star-lights-up]

I have like 5 million headcanons for the Hear Me Out au and I can't fit them all into the fic, so here we go, part one of character headcanons:

Charles:

He identifies as queer because he experiences romantic attraction and gender differently than others due to his telepathy (much more fluid). Generally he just uses male terms but he really just doesn't care all that much about pronouns.

he's nearsighted, and wears glasses.

he may not be able to figure out his own life, but he's got great advice for everyone else (and usually it works)

he's kind of been wanting to get his ears pierced for years but he's worried it'll clash with his academia aesthetic

If he's not wearing jumpers and button-ups he owns like five million oversized hoodies in varying colors

he collects converse

He likes classical music and pop and lofi

He just randomly has teabags all the time

Erik (sorry about his face idk what happened):

He generally respects people he'd just rather not talk to them.

Learned to cook and bake from Edie, it's become cathartic for him.

Knows how to paint and draw but will never tell anyone about it. He also makes sculptures from metal when he's bored.

Likes running and working out.

Angel:

Taylor swift girly to Raven's sabrina carpenter obsession (they've got all these records on their walls)

Does yoga and mountain biking

Makeup specialist of the house (since raven can just do it with her powers)

Will sometimes go flying with sean but he makes her nervous a lot because like, what if something happened to his suit?

Haunts the local starbucks

Raven:

Only wears gold jewelry and loves pink

Will kill anyone who hurts her friends (and they'll never find the body)

Has watched the sabrina carpenter christmas special like ten million times

does "natural makeup" tutorials for mutants with all different skin colors. People send her pictures of their mutation and she shifts into them, spends time making the look, and then posts it for them.

Sean:

Started to learn to cook when they all moved in together (just simple foods for now but he's getting better and really enjoys it)

Wayyyyy too much energy at any given moment

Has perfect pitch and is a great singer because of his mutation. He can also play any instrument by ear.