#i remember when my round-up posts used to be huge

[writcraft]

2023 Writing Wrap-Up

Thank you for the tag @wolfpants! This is a short one as I wrote way less in 2023 than I had planned. I did write quite a bit more than I published but those unfinished WIPs that I wanted to get up in December will have to slip into 2024. I have just three fics to share in this round up, coming in at a total of roughly 65,000 words.

The Unplottable Time Conundrum (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy), 45k, E

When the past starts bleeding into the present at Grimmauld Place, an old academic article pulls Draco Malfoy out of his life of luxury. Haunted by the memory of a fleeting post-war kiss and thrust into the ghostly spaces inhabited by Unspeakable Harry Potter, Draco’s easy life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark (Harry Potter/Ron Weasley), 8k, E

It’s getting harder to hear about Harry’s casual one-night stands, but Ron can’t work out why. He meets plenty of women, he wants his friend to be happy and it can’t be jealousy, because Ron is straight. Isn’t he?

Luck of the Draw (Harry Potter/Severus Snape), 12k, E

Severus is enjoying the quiet life when his participation in a Ministry raffle forces him to go on a date with Harry Potter. During a weekend filled with drag queens, hiking, a twisted ankle and a dog named Paddington, Severus begins to wonder if the quiet life is really all it’s cracked up to be.

[baellielurk]

this was a reasonable decision to make, in context

[hexiva]

Roleplay Is Not Dead Nor Doth It Sleep

There's a post going around about how text-based, freeform roleplay is dead, and I was typing up a huge response to this, with an accompanying guide on how to find roleplayer in 2024, when I realized it might have a bigger reach if I made it its own post. So here's that guide.

I hesitate to say that there isn't a problem with the new format of social media making roleplay more difficult to find, but in the desire to make that point, the OP of the original post has left people with the idea that there's no way for them to get into freeform text roleplay in 2024. Which just isn't true! Here, look at all the ways.

Forums

The link to RPG-Directory to find roleplaying forums is a good start. Once you've found a forum RPG, even if you don't join, there's usually an 'advertising' section on that forum where other forum RPGs post their ads - this may help you to find forums that don't advertise on RPG-D.

Another really good forum to find roleplay on is Barbermonger. Barbermonger is focused on connecting people for one-on-one roleplays.

This last one's going to be weird, but it turns out that there are still people seeking roleplay on the Gaia Online forums after all these years. I think this is delightfully retro and then crowd there seems a little older than average. No pre-existing knowledge of Gaia required.

Tumblr

You can also find forum roleplay groups (as well as tumblr and Discord groups) right here on Tumblr. Usually, the thing to do is to use the search function - search for "[genre] rp" or "[fandom] rp" and sort by "latest." (If you sort by Top, you are likely to find dead RPs.) For example, here's fantasy rp, historical rp, and marvel rp. You can also try jcink rp, as most roleplay forums are hosted on Jcink these days, or discord rp, depending on your favored platform.

There are also tumblr blogs specifically dedicated to advertising roleplays. I'm not super familiar with these nowadays, but just in the process of searching those tags above, I found these:

Jcink Tinder

RPG Adverts

RPings

There are more, I just don't know them off the top of my head.

Reddit

Listen, don't run away, I swear it's good now - I swear Reddit is good now -

Reddit is a good place to find Discord roleplays. It's a little heavier on smut-only roleplays than other platforms mentioned here, but it's not impossible to find sexless, plot-based roleplay here either. Most ads are for one on one RP, but you can find groups mixed in here too. The big subreddits for text-based freeform RP seem to be:

r/DiscordRP

r/RoleplayPartnerSearch

r/roleplaying

r/Roleplay

Some of these have weird rules about what you can put in your ad, and I don't remember which ones, so read carefully and don't get discouraged if your ad is initially removed.

Discord

In 2024, Discord is by far the biggest and most popular platform for roleplay, and it has its own native roleplay advertising hubs. Here are a bunch:

roleplay partner hub

Rockin Roleplay

The Roleplay Garden

roleplay help

the roleplay connection

RP Central

Roleplay Central

Roleplay Hub

Barbermonger also has a Discord server

Roleplay Meets: Reborn

RP Hub

The Scribes Guild

DM Rp Village

cherry blossom! roleplay hub

DM-RP

Roleplay Round Table (21+)

The Historical Syndicate (specifically for historical roleplay)

The Roleplayer's Directory

If you can't find the Discord roleplay you want on here, you can also try Discord hub websites, like Disboard. These work similar to tumblr tags - search for [genre] rp or [fandom] rp.

Other

The original post specifically mentions that 'all the old "omegle but for role play" type websites died out ages ago'. This is mostly true, but not quite! There's still Rolechat. It's a little janky, but what it needs more than anything is a bigger user base. Their Discord server is also a good place to find one on one discord roleplay. It is, of course, free, but if you want to support its development, they have a patreon.

Please reblog this post, and add your own tips on how to find roleplay!

[ciacconaism]

What if kokomi!reader with forsaken survivors?

- Take heart, victory will be ours.

Forsaken survivors with a Sangonomiya Kokomi! Reader

Characters in this headcannon list:

- Taph, Guest 1337, Elliot and Chance

Notes:

- Can be read as platonic or romantic

- Can be read as gender neutral reader

-Not proof read for errors

A/N: You didn't list any survivors in specific, so I just went ahead and spun a wheel to pick. I also had to wrack my head a little to remember key traits of hers, so I apologize if this isn't up to your standards anon!

I need to stop posting at 2am and get sleep.

Taph

✧Taph was one of the first survivors you grew interested in, though your first interaction with Taph was you caught him admiring Builderman from afar, which greatly confused you. That aside! You were interested in his tripwires and subspace bombs–you most definitely could think of good placements for them to slow down the killers.

✧Taph would always find himself tagging along with you when you were too exhausted to hold the line with the other sentinels. A couple tripwires here and there around the corner, you decided to hunker down in and ta da! A temporary safe hideout for you. Temporary before you have to get back out there and heal the survivors that needed it.

✧Outside of fighting for your lives during rounds, Taph is good company. It was a pure accident when he found your little hiding spot full of your favorite items and plush pillows and blankets. It was your safe haven, and soon would be for the both of you. You didn't mind having Taph in your safe haven, and he made himself feel nice at home in your base.

✧If you two weren't busy thinking of better ways to set up traps to slow down killers, you two are getting some much needed comfort and rest in each other's presence. Hope you like brownies because he's more than happy to share the ones he's baked with you.

Guest 1337

✧A priest(ess) as well as a military advisor? Just what can't you do? He finds it comforting in a way that there's someone like you on the team. Guest is practically your right-hand man. He trusts you, and you trust him. He's not doubting your strategies to come out victorious against the killers.

✧As a healer, you hang around the other sentinels during rounds, Guest being one of the survivors you follow closely. Guest finds it amazing that you can use your hydro power to heal and attack as you please. You're quite the sight to behold if he hasn't mentioned that yet.

✧For as much as he holds you in high regard, he also acknowledges that you get tired quickly. He doesn't blame you in the slightest. You're not used to working on the frontlines. You're a strategist, not a soldier.

✧If needed, he'll step in for you when you can't find the energy to keep going. He doesn't want you to worry nor burn yourself out–as much as you may insist it's fine, that you were raised to be a leader despite your wishes. He doesn't take that as an answer and whisks you away to rest. He makes sure you get the proper rest you need. After all, what's a team without their leader?

Elliot

✧Was honestly relieved that you are a healer as well. The poor guy was stressing trying to even out pizzas to distribute within the team, and you're telling him you can just summon a jellyfish with your hydro powers to heal others within the perimeter? Ah, you lifted a huge amount of weight off his back.

✧Elliot completely understands growing fatigued after chasing other survivors down to heal them. You get burned out quite fast when interacting with all the other survivors, and he's there to support you through the rest of the round. Elliot has insisted for you to put down the leader facade many times, telling you it's ok to wind down every once in a while.

✧After rounds he prides himself in making sure nobody finds out of your whereabouts and keeps you hidden away to rest. Don't worry about anything! He'll get you books or anything else you may possibly want.

✧Walks along the shoreline with Elliot are rare, mostly because you'd rather spend time your free time alone. But when you do invite him to stroll with you, he keeps quiet and mostly just shyly glances at you as you admire the scenery. It's only here that he can take in everything and see you as who you actually are and admire you.

Chance

✧This guy is going to be your 13th reason why. No strategy, no thoughts, just pure sheer luck. And it stresses you out, though you don't try and let that show on your face. How does one step onto the battlefield and solely rely on luck without prior strategic thinking?

✧As much as you dislike Chance’s way of moving forward on the field, you always keep a close eye on him and have his back. No one shall be left behind on your watch if you can prevent it. With the many times you managed to heal him right on time, he has dubbed you their lucky charm.

✧During intermissions, if you aren't hiding away recharging your social battery, Chance will always without fail ask to play card games with you. And without fail yourself, you humor him with a few rounds. It's quite the spectacle for the other survivors to see Chance actually meet his match in card games. While he relies on pure luck, you rely on strategizing.

✧Overall, he enjoys your company and doesn't stray too far during rounds. If he does, he immediately comes running back to you with a sheepish smile on their face as you heal him. Your presence eases his nerves and fires him up honestly.

[yunniverse]

Haven | Chapter 1: A Spark of Hope

౨ৎ PAIRING: ex-soldier!jeong yunho x survivor!reader

౨ৎ GENRE: angst, fluff later in the story, survival, post-apocalyptic, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS: themes of survival, potential blood, mentions of weapons, dangerous situations, yunho is a little bit rude at times

౨ৎ WORD COUNT: 2.0k

౨ৎ SUMMARY: you’re a survivor, and have been since the beginning of the end of the world, since the great war. yunho is an ex-soldier who wants no part in saving humanity. somehow, you convince him otherwise, and the two of you embark on a journey to rescue mankind, and, maybe, find love and safety in each other along the way

౨ৎ A/N: my first series! i’ll do my best to update regularly, and i hope you all enjoy this little idea i had. i’ve wanted to write a dystopian story for a while, so i hope you all like this one! lmk if you’d like to be on the taglist for future chapters <3

Another cold morning envelopes your small makeshift campsite. At this point, it’s a miracle you can still wake up in the morning. As you crawl out of your tent, the smell of distant smoke fills your lungs and you wince, still not entirely used to the putrid scent that burns your nostrils.

The world has been basically uninhabitable for around six years, ever since the huge world war that left the earth divided and destroyed. Those who weren’t killed in the brutal fighting have taken refuge in various factions, some peaceful, but most are combative and unapproachable. You prefer to work alone.

Quickly gathering your small tent and other provisions, only items you can easily carry across the countryside, you start to move, scanning the surrounding forest for any hostile animals or people. Feeling somewhat safe for now, you continue on the path. The road is mostly dirt, with weeds and grass littered across it, evidence of a lack of human inhabitance for a very long time.

At this point, you don’t even remember the last time you were in contact with another person. A few months? A year? Two years? Time seems to go by both quickly and slowly, molding together. The sun rises and falls as it always has. You had always thought time was a curious and fickle phenomenon just like the seasons, ebbing and flowing as months and years pass with no change in the world around you.

The dirt and dead leaves crunch beneath your worn tennis shoes as you walk, shivering slightly as a cool breeze carries fog across the path. For many months, you’d been on the search for a place called Haven. You had heard rumors from people you used to stay with when you’d needed to be nursed back to health, back when you’d been attacked by a rogue survivor group with guns.

The family that had found and helped you used to talk of a group of people who are trying to rebuild the broken world. This had pushed you to leave the safety of the family’s home, searching for this allegedly peaceful group. Maybe you could help bring back some normalcy. Besides, what else would you do with the rest of your life if not try to bring back some form of humanity?

The insistent fog is making you uneasy, as much as you try to push down the growing fear you feel inside the pit of your stomach. Every time you hear a twig snap, your heart leaps into your throat, anxiety creeping into your mind.

Taking a deep breath, you push on, knowing at some point you’ll make it to somewhere you can rest.

Suddenly, another twig snaps. You tell yourself it’s a squirrel or deer or something, but something isn’t sitting right. Just as you round the bend, the dirt road leading down a small incline, you hear the unmistakeable sound of a knife being unsheathed. Your heartbeat quickens as you freeze, your eyes squeezing shut. You’re scared to turn around, so you run. As fast as your tired and sore feet will carry you.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re being followed. Closely. Still not daring to look back, you take a right into the woods, hoping to outrun the assailant. Unfortunately, just as you think you might be able to lose them, you trip over a root tangled in the underbrush. With a sharp yelp, you fall, your backpack crashing to the ground with you, the wind leaving your lungs as your chest collides with the hard earth.

As you gasp, trying to regain your breath, you see them. A group of about three men, each wielding various weapons, but the main one a knife, long and sharp. “You think you can outrun us for long, girl?” one of them snarls, stepping closer.

Fear has engulfed you as you try to scoot back, your ankle pulsing with a sharp pain.

“We should take ‘er in, boss.”

“Yeah, she’s young and agile.”

The boss steps closer enough for you to smell the smoke on his clothes, making your nose scrunch with disgust. Just as he’s about to yank you up by the arm, you hear a shot ring out. Your head snaps up, seeing another man, this one hooded and standing on top of the hill, a pistol held in his hands, aimed right at the man hovering above you.

“Let her go.”

The man holding your arm scoffs, not releasing you. “And why should I rele—?”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the hooded man fires another shot, this one hitting one of the men in the arm, making him scream in pain. You’re in shock as the man holding you drops your arm, quickly gathering his men and running in the other direction.

You quickly try to grab your backpack, not knowing whether to trust the man who saved you or not. Knowing you can’t trust anyone, you quickly scramble to your feet, casting one last look at the hooded man before trying to run, ignoring the sharp pain in your ankle.

You don’t make it far before a warm hand grabs your arm, pulling you against a solid chest as his other arm wraps around you, holding you still. “Let me go!”

“Where?” he asks, his voice smooth, not letting you move a single inch despite your struggle against his strong hold. “I saved your life.”

“That means nothing in this world except you’re probably trying to capture me too!” you exclaim, but your foot catches on the ground, sending another shockwave of excruciating pain through your ankle. With a yelp, you lift your ankle off the ground, black dots swimming in your vision.

The man holding you gently releases you, guiding you to lean against a tree. “Easy…” he tells you soothingly.

“W-What do you want from me?” you ask, trying to fight the dizziness.

“Nothing at the moment,” he responds, crouching down to be eye level with you as he slowly removes his hood. You’re met with a head of dark, slightly unkempt hair and surprisingly soft brown eyes that look… worried? “I’ve been trying to stop those guys for a while. The ones that attacked you. They come after every traveler along the main road.”

“Main road?”

“I know,” he sighs, glancing at the mostly dirt path, only a few spots where asphalt peeks through. “Hardly a road anymore, but we still treat it as one.”

“Why’d you save me anyway?” you ask, confused.

“Why not?”

You’re taken aback by this, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as your eyes scan his face, searching for any signs of dishonesty. Finding none, you sigh. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he nods, looking down at your ankle. “How bad is it?”

“On a scale of one to ten…” you wince. “Eleven.”

“Can you walk at all?” he asks, standing up and extending a hand to you. You notice the callouses on his slender fingers, making a pang of sympathy shoot through you. Gently taking his hand, you shakily stand, hissing when your foot hits the ground. “Here. Lean against me. I have a… shelter about a mile down the road. You can rest there.”

Nodding, feeling like you don’t really have a choice, you follow him, hoping against hope he isn’t leading you to your death.

When you both make it to the small shack, which, surprisingly, is quite homely on the inside, you’re finally able to rest your ankle.

“What’s your name?” you ask him as he readies an ice pack for your ankle.

“Yunho,” he responds simply, helping you place the cold ice pack against your ankle. “And you?”

“Y/N,” you reply, your gaze drifting to the gun strapped to his hip. “Where’d you find that? I haven’t seen a gun laying around since… the beginning of this mess.”

“Had it since the war,” Yunho replies, making your eyebrows furrow.

“Since the war?” you question curiously, glancing around at his makeshift home. “The only ones who were allowed to have guns were soldiers. They were rationed out that way.”

Yunho’s lips form a small frown, bordering a scowl, at your statement. It’s then you see the label on his pistol. It clicks in your mind. “You were a soldier?”

He simply nods, swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he continues to ice your ankle.

“Which side?”

His gaze snaps to yours, a hint of vulnerability and surprise flashing in his brown irises as he freezes.

You realize what kind of question you’d asked and you attempt to backtrack before your gaze lands on a uniform. A Dominion uniform. He’d been part of the Order. “You were with them, weren’t you? The Order.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Yunho’s tone is clipped and cold as he finishes with the ice pack, standing to put the extra ice back in his old, beaten up freezer.

“No wonder you have a gun,” you mumble, feeling anger rising inside you. “You fought for them. You killed for them, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, his back to you as he leans his hands against the wooden counter, his shoulders tense.

“Had you been with them before they tried to brainwash us? When they were still the military? Or did you join them after they tried to destroy the world?” you ask, your tone growing more and more accusing.

“I don’t think you have the right to ask those things of me when you’re in my home and I saved your life!” Yunho snaps, turning back around to face you. You close your mouth, suddenly remembering the dynamics of your situation. With a curt nod, you let it go, but not without another wary glance in his direction. You’d find out what happened to make him so defensive later, if there is a later.

“Where are you headed?” Yunho asks, sighing, as he sits down on the end of the cot you’re lying on.

“Why do you care?”

“Oh for the love of—“ Yunho takes a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Just tell me where you’re going.”

“Haven,” you respond, sighing.

“Haven?” Yunho scoffs. “That’s a myth. Made up by dreamers who still had hope.”

“It’s not a myth,” you respond defensively. “It’s real!”

“And where’s your proof?” Yunho asks, crossing his arms, the scoff still playing on his lips.

“I don’t need proof,” you respond, your tone clipped. “I know it exists and I’m going to find them.”

“Suit yourself,” Yunho shrugs, shaking his head. “But the world is cruel to dreamers with hope like you. I learned the hard way not to trust anyone or anything.”

“Then why are you trusting me?” you ask, confused.

“You’re the one at my mercy at the moment,” he responds pointedly, and you slump against the nearly flat pillow, knowing he’s right. “So I’d suggest you start acting like it rather than talking back to me constantly.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, wincing when you move your foot.

“I’m being serious,” Yunho sighs, looking down at you, his gaze softening slightly. “I’ve seen too many people head down the road you’re searching for. Haven, or anything like it, doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a killjoy,” you grumble, frowning.

“Guilty as charged,” Yunho smirks slightly, before sighing. “I’m just trying to save you a worthless trip or a life of searching for something that doesn’t exist and never will.”

“Or…” you trail off slowly, glancing up at him and then the inside of the shack again. “You could help?”

“Help what? Search for Haven?” Yunho shakes his head. “Not a chance. I’m not wasting my time doing something like that.”

“What have you got to lose? This rickety shack?” you gesture to the small room. “Wouldn’t you rather be a part of something bigger?”

“I tried that once,” Yunho scowls. “Didn’t exactly end well.”

“This time will be different. I promise.”

“How can you promise something like that?” Yunho asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“It’s like you said,” you shrug, your eyes meeting his dark ones. “I have hope.”

taglist: @moonlitarcade @kyunlove @hwaretic @oreowooyoung @sunkissedchocobeauty @hannieblue128 @treasuretobefound @thevintagefangirl @byeoliesandeoki @startoftomorrow-blog

[ellswritings]

In My Corner

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4), (Part 5), (Part 6), (Part 7), (Part 8), Part 9, (Part 10)

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: Lots of flashbacks in this bad boy, Punk says lots of steamy things, but other than that I think that’s it.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling, @scream4mami, @mandmilovehim, @dummylovewp, @insomnia-bookworm

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Phil Brooks wasn’t one for doomscrolling. He didn’t check his feed every hour. He didn’t care what the fans were posting. Most days, he didn’t care what anyone was posting.

But tonight? Tonight, something made him look.

He was sitting in the dark, hoodie on, thumb tapping absently at his screen. The hum of the space heater was the only noise in the room — soft and steady, unlike the pounding in his chest the second his eyes landed on the photo. Grainy. Poorly lit. Snapped from too far down the hallway to be clear.

But the moment? Undeniable.

Y/N, half-tucked into Colby’s chest, fists curled into the front of his jacket like he was the only thing holding her to the earth. Her head tilted, lips pressed to his in a kiss that looked like it meant something — long and slow, like the rest of the world had fallen away and she hadn’t even noticed. Phil’s jaw twitched.

The caption from the fan account didn’t help either:

wrestlechicx: And there it is. The kiss heard ‘round the world 👀🔥 Looks like Y/S/N and Seth Rollins are OFFICIAL. Thoughts??

📸: VisionaryVixen_

❤️ 119k likes_

He didn’t even know when he opened Instagram. He didn’t remember clicking on the post. But suddenly it was in front of him. Huge. Unavoidable. Mocking him. Phil stared at it, unmoving. There was a weight in his chest he couldn’t quite name. Not just jealousy — no, jealousy was too simple. It was… frustration. Regret. A thousand buried emotions digging their claws into his ribs all at once.

They weren’t together. Hell, they weren’t even friends. Not anymore. But the image of her smiling into someone else’s kiss — Colby’s kiss — lit something in him that felt dangerously close to fury.

He squeezed his phone, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Colby fucking Lopez. Of course it was him. Golden boy. Darling of the company. Always smiling. Always adored. It made perfect sense that he’d be the one she let in.

Phil exhaled sharply, tossing the phone onto the couch and pushing to his feet. He started pacing. The living room was dim, barely lit by the screen of the paused TV. He hadn’t even bothered turning the sound back on after her match. He had watched it — of course he had. And when she’d hit the stomp?

He’d felt it. In his gut. In his teeth.

The crowd had exploded. Commentary had gone wild. Kevin Patrick practically shrieked. The camera even cut to a kid in the third row with his hands over his mouth like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

Phil could.

He remembered the day he taught her that move. Back when they couldn’t stand each other. When she used to walk into the gym in tiny shorts and a scowl and challenge him to spar like she had something to prove. She always did.

He remembered adjusting her form — the curve of her spine, the placement of her heel. He remembered brushing his lips near her neck and pretending it was about balance. It wasn’t. Not really. He remembered the way she smiled when she got it right. And now she’d done it. On the big stage. At the top of the company. And she gave him the credit without saying a damn word.

That should’ve felt good. But all Phil could picture now was her curled up in the arms of a man who didn’t deserve her. A man who hadn’t been there for the grind, the wars, the evolution. A man who didn’t bleed beside her in the indie circuits. Who didn’t push her in training rings with stained mats and no cameras.

Phil ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavy. He’d reached out at Christmas. Called her. Said “Merry Christmas” like it didn’t still hurt. Like the silence between them hadn’t stretched so long it had its own name now. Like he hadn’t blamed her — still blamed her — for not following him when he walked. But maybe he wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t followed him because she loved this. Because she was built for this. And damn it, he loved that about her too.

But Colby? That made his skin crawl. Not because he was a bad guy. But because he was the safe option. The one who could stand beside her in press photos. Who made fans squeal and bookers smile. He was the nice guy.

Phil had never been the nice guy.

But he was the guy who loved her before the crowd did. Before the title runs and the main events and the viral clips. He was the guy who saw her. And now he was just… what? Angry? Bitter? Jealous?

His eyes fell back on the phone. A notification blinked. New reposts. New comments. Thousands of fans buzzing about the kiss. Screaming. Shipping. Making edits. Phil didn’t realize how hard his fists were clenched until his knuckles popped. He shouldn’t care. He wasn’t supposed to care. But he did.

He did care. Because some part of him — the part he thought he buried the day he walked away — still ached for her. Still remembered the way she laughed with her whole chest, the way she used to mock his music taste, the way she told him not to flinch when she stitched his eyebrow up herself in a hotel bathroom at 2am.

She was the only woman who’d ever matched him shot for shot, ego for ego. And now she was kissing someone else like it was nothing.

Phil sat back down hard on the edge of the coffee table, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Didn’t know how he’d earn her trust back. Or if he even could. But he knew one thing with a clarity that sliced through the fog in his chest.

He wasn’t going to watch her fall into Colby’s arms without a fight.

He’d made peace with losing a lot of things in his life. He wasn’t sure he could stomach losing her. Not again. Not like this. And for the first time in years, the chip on his shoulder cracked just enough to let something through.

Resolve.

He didn’t know where this road would take him. But it was time to stop pretending the fire had gone out. Because it hadn’t. Not even close.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The crowd was still buzzing as Y/N stepped through the curtain, adrenaline pumping through her limbs. She could still feel the heat of the match in her bones — a mixed tag against a smug heel duo that had gotten under both her and Phil’s skin backstage for weeks.

But that wasn’t what was spinning through her head. It was what Phil said on the mic after the final bell. It hadn’t been scripted. He’d turned toward the hard cam, sweat soaking into the collar of his shirt, microphone gripped too tight in his hand. “You know what the problem is around here?” he’d snarled. “It’s not us. It’s not the so-called brass in the back either — no, the problem is that we keep pretending this is still wrestling. When the truth is, this place has become nothing more than a circus with billion-dollar blinders.”

The crowd had roared — but Y/N had stiffened beside him, eyes flicking toward the production crew like a warning. He’d just torn open the curtain, even if only a little.

And Vince would’ve seen it.

Now, as she peeled her gear gloves off backstage, she realized Phil was nowhere to be seen. She turned quickly, scanning the crowd of staff, crew, and talent funneling back to catering or locker rooms. No Phil.

“Hey,” she called, grabbing the arm of a production assistant hustling by with cables in hand. “You seen Punk?”

“Uh…” the guy blinked, then winced like he knew something she didn’t. “I think he got called into the production office. Vince asked for him. Right after the segment ended.”

Her stomach dropped and without another word, she took off. Her boots echoed down the concrete hallway as she power-walked past catering, past the locker rooms, past the cue cards taped on walls and clusters of backstage agents whispering about what just happened. Her chest tightened.

When she reached Vince’s office, the door was cracked just enough for her to hear raised voices inside. “You think this is your personal soapbox?” Vince was barking. “You think you can just hijack live air with your little martyr monologues? This isn’t your show, Punk. It never was.”

She didn’t even knock. She pushed the door open hard enough to make it slam against the wall. Phil stood stiffly near Vince’s desk, jaw tight, arms crossed, his usual bravado replaced with an eerily still kind of rage. Vince looked furious — face red, hands gripping the desk, a folder pushed aside like it had been thrown. Y/N didn’t wait for an invitation. “If you have something to say to my tag partner,” she said, loud and steady, “then you can say it to me too.”

Vince looked up, irritated. “This doesn’t concern you, Y/L/N.”

“With all due respect,” she said sharply, stepping further into the room, “the second you summoned him here because of a segment I was part of, it started to concern me.”

Phil’s eyes flicked to her, something unreadable behind them. “I didn’t ask for backup,” he said, but there was no real bite in it.

She ignored him. “You want to lecture him about calling out hypocrisy? Fine. But don’t pretend he said anything people in the back haven’t been thinking for years. Hell, you should be thanking him. At least he still cares.”

Vince stood up straighter, like a storm cloud thickening. “Watch your tone.”

“No,” she snapped. “No, I won’t. Because I’ve sat through enough meetings where you’ve nodded and smiled at the yes-men while ignoring the people bleeding on your canvas every night. The only difference is that Phil finally said it out loud.”

Vince’s lip curled. “You think loyalty gives you a pass to disrespect this company?”

“I think honesty should. And if you respected us even half as much as you expect us to respect you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

There was a beat of silence. Phil hadn’t moved. Vince’s hands twitched, as if resisting the urge to throw something. “You’ve got guts,” he muttered. “But don’t think they’ll keep you employed.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then fire me.”

Phil’s eyes widened slightly. Vince flinched. “I dare you,” she said. “Go ahead. Fire the woman who’s been co-main eventing pay-per-views for the last year. Fire the only person in this building who actually keeps up with him.”

She jerked a thumb toward Phil, whose lip twitched at the praise. Vince didn’t answer. His silence was answer enough.

She smiled, cold and steady. “Thought so.” With that, she turned, grabbed Phil by the wrist, and walked them both straight out the door — the tension snapping like a wire behind them. It wasn’t until they were halfway down the hall again that she finally exhaled.

Phil had been silent. He kept walking beside her until they reached a quieter corner near a storage area, where crates and lighting rigs were stacked. Then he finally stopped. “Are you out of your mind?” he asked, voice low.

She turned toward him, defiant. “Probably.”

“You just challenged Vince McMahon to fire you.”

“I did.”

“You don’t—” He ran a hand over his mouth, pacing a few steps before turning back toward her. “You shouldn’t have done that for me.”

She raised a brow. “I didn’t do it for you.”

That surprised him.

“I did it because you were right,” she continued. “And because no one else ever will. And because if I’m gonna be in this goddamn tag team with you, then I’m gonna back you.”

He stared at her curiously as she went one. “I meant what I said in there,” she added. “You and I? We don’t need their approval. We just need each other.”

That silenced him. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just looked at her — really looked — like he was seeing her for the first time, not as a tag partner, not as a performer, but as someone who had just willingly burned bridges for his sake. His chest rose slowly. “You keep this up,” he murmured, “and I might actually start to like you.”

She smirked. “You already like me.”

He rolled his eyes. But he didn’t deny it.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Phil sat alone in his Chicago apartment, the low hum of the city outside barely penetrating the silence within. He rested back in his worn-out recliner, the dim glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. The memory of that day—the confrontation with Vince, Y/N’s fierce defense, and the fire in her eyes—played over and over in his mind like a loop he couldn’t turn off.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples, trying to push the swirl of thoughts away, but it was no use. That moment had always stood out—the first time she’d truly put herself on the line for him. Not just as a tag partner, but as someone who cared enough to risk everything for him. For a guy like him, who barely let anyone in, that had meant more than she ever could have known.

Phil’s jaw clenched. He’d been angry back then, sure. Angry at the company, at Vince, at the pressure they both faced. But mostly at himself—because he had let pride and stubbornness get in the way of what mattered. And Y/N? She never walked away. Not really. She had stayed, even when he pushed her away, even when he was impossible to reach. That fierce loyalty was something rare, something he’d taken for granted.

He shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him. “Hell, I was too damn blind,” he muttered, voice rough with frustration. “Expected her to carry all the weight when I wasn’t even holding up my own.” There was a pause, the weight of years settling over him like a heavy fog. He thought about the others—April, the fleeting flings, the distractions—but none of them had lasted. The only constant had been Y/N. The one person who’d seen past his walls, even if he never fully saw hers.

Phil flexed his fingers, biting the inside of his cheek, the familiar sting grounding him. He hated feelings. Always had. They made things complicated— messy. But right now, in this quiet apartment, the feelings were impossible to ignore. A stubborn ache that tangled pride, regret, and something dangerously close to hope. He wasn’t ready to admit any of it aloud. Not yet. He was still mad—mad that she hadn’t followed him out, mad that maybe she could’ve done more. But beneath that anger was the flicker of understanding. Maybe he’d expected too much from her. Maybe the blame wasn’t all hers.

“Damn it,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

His eyes fell to the phone on the table, silent and still. The call he’d made to her over Christmas—the first in years—had been the first step. A shaky, uncertain step, but a start nonetheless. Phil knew he’d have to fight harder. Not just for his career, not just for the wrestling world’s expectations, but for the fragile thread between them. To earn back her trust. To untangle the mess they’d become. And maybe now that he had learned from his mistakes, he wouldn’t let her go so easily this time.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N’s life had been completely turned upside down in the last twelve hours. The moment she and Colby stepped into her hotel room, their phones started blowing up. They don’t understand how it happened so fast, but a photo of them kissing had already started circulating the internet. They were tagged in posts, fan reactions, edits, all of it. Both of them were in shock. They hadn’t seen anyone in the hallway. It was late. No one should have been out. It should have been safe. But it wasn’t.

Someone caught an extremely vulnerable moment and capitalized. They couldn’t even be mad about it. They were in a public place and there was no thought put into the kiss. Y/N just felt with her heart instead of using her head for once, and this is what came out of it.

She didn’t regret it. God knows she would do it over and over again if she could. Especially when glancing over at a sleeping Colby as they fly to New York for her interview. He wasn’t supposed to, but he insisted on accompanying her there. That way they could deal with the chaos unfolding together.

His lips are parted, allowing little snores to puff out periodically. He looked so peaceful. She just wishes she could calm her mind enough to allow her to sleep for even just thirty minutes. But the way their lives had just blown up kept her awake.

Nobody from corporate had called yet. Truthfully, she had expected a call from Paul the second the photo came out. But there was nothing. The waiting for what everyone was going to say at work was worse than what the speculations were online.

Everyone has already made their assumptions. That they’ve been dating, it was for a publicity stunt, a momentary lapse of judgment, a soft launch, all of it has been said. But none of them were right. Mostly because Colby and Y/N still didn’t know what it meant.

Her stomach twists in knots, knowing her interview is now going to be surrounded around this. She just hopes that she doesn’t lose her job over this stupid scandal the world has managed to blow out of proportion.

“Have you slept at all?” Colby’s groggy voice pulls her out of her thoughts. His hair tied up in a man bun, back arching as he stretches off his exhaustion. His brown eyes are soft, gazing at her with a twinge of concern.

Y/N smiles softly, admiring how handsome he looks even when waking up. “No, but I’ll sleep later after the interview.”

He sits up, a frown covering his lips at her words. “You really haven’t slept at all?”

“Colbs, I’m fine,” Y/N assures him. “I’m not even that tired.”

“Yes you are,” he counters with a sigh. “You’re just too anxious to fall asleep.”

He always knew the truth even when she didn’t want to admit it. Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, slumping further down into her chair. “I’m not trying to be…” she mumbles.

Colby glances back at her, “I know.” He can see how worried and tired she is. It makes his heart clench seeing her like this. Her mind has always run too fast for her to catch up. He reaches over and grabs her hand, “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N/N.”

“I just wish I knew how everyone was reacting,” she admits, fidgeting with his fingers that are now laced through hers.

“And you will,” Colby tells her. “I’m sure the moment we land, your phone will be loaded with texts and calls.”

Y/N groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t know if that helps or makes it worse.”

“Exactly,” Colby leans over on his arm rest, his face only getting closer to hers. His smile makes her stomach flutter. He gently brushes a strand of hair out of her face, his thumb grazing her cheek gently. “No matter which way you think about it, it’s gonna make you anxious. And nothing’s gonna soothe it until we get back on the ground. So why don’t you do yourself and me,” he grins, “a favor and try to at least sleep for the last thirty minutes of the flight?”

Y/N did feel extremely tired. Her eyelids only grew heavier as time went on. A small sigh escapes her lips and at that point, Colby already knew he won. She tilts her head towards him, “Can I at least lean on you?” She asks quietly.

“You could completely sit on me like a koala bear if you wanted to,” Colby kisses the side of her head before sitting up straight so she could lean on his shoulder.

It wasn’t long before she finally fell asleep. It was only thirty minutes, but thirty is better than nothing. Especially since she’s been spending the last six to seven hours silently panicking. He knew she was protecting his feelings by keeping it all inside. In his head, he was aware that she wasn’t ashamed of what happened. Her mind just immediately went to the effect it would have on their careers.

Much sooner than he would have wanted, the plane lands. He watches as her chest rises and falls gently, her lips puffing out small gusts of air. He doesn’t want to wake her. If he could carry her through the airport and to their rental car so she could remain unconscious, he would. But she would be furious if she woke up and found out he carried her and their luggage through a crowded New York airport.

“Hey, Y/N,” he whispers next to her head. His lips graze her forehead softly, pressing a delicate kiss to help wake her up. “C’mon beautiful… we’re here.”

She groans but nonetheless stretches her arms upward. It wasn’t a long nap, but it was a much needed one. She doesn’t lift her head from his shoulder though. She simply wraps her arms tightly around the one she’s laying on, pulling him as close to her as she can.

“I don’t wanna,” she mumbles.

“Well, we gotta,” he chuckles at how cute she sounds. “You’ve got an interview in two hours. And I know you want to check your phone.”

Y/N hides her face in his bicep, “I changed my mind. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“If I could hide you until you were ready, I would,” Colby helps her stand from her seat, grabbing their carry ons from the compartment above. “But you and I both know you don’t run from your problems.”

Y/N yawns, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she takes her bag from Colby. The two of them start walking up the aisle and towards the exit. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” she grumbles. “What if I do run from this one?”

Colby grinned, watching her shuffle beside him down the narrow plane aisle, still groggy and pouting like a child dragged out of bed. Her oversized hoodie hung loosely over her frame, her hand curled into the strap of her bag, and even half-asleep, she looked good enough to ruin a man’s day. "You're not gonna run," he teased softly, bumping her shoulder with his. "You're too stubborn to let anyone else control the narrative."

Y/N gave a half-hearted glare, lips twitching despite herself. “Tell that to my nervous system.”

He leaned in close as they stepped into the jet bridge. “When have you ever let anyone write your story for you?”

That earned him a sideways glance, the corners of her lips lifting just slightly. They walked in sync, shoulders brushing, steps light but tired. The airport buzzed with activity, but to them, it felt like a bubble. Just the two of them for a few more seconds before reality caught up. Just as they turned the corner toward the car service pickup, her phone buzzed again in her pocket. She fished it out, screen bright with an incoming call from: Paul Levesque.

“Oh shit,” she muttered, pausing mid-step.

Colby looked at her. “Who is it?”

“Paul,” she whispered, wide-eyed. “It’s Paul.”

He winced, doing a dramatic little shake of his shoulders like he was shaking off a ghost. “Oof. Game time.”

She sucked in a breath and answered quickly. “Hey, Paul.”

There was a pause, and then that familiar voice rumbled through the speaker, low and calm but direct. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” she replied, clutching the phone tighter.

“Just landed?”

“Yeah, just stepped off a few minutes ago,” she said. “Still at the airport.”

Another pause. Then, like he already knew the answer: “Is Colby still with you?”

Y/N blinked, feeling the heat crawl up her neck as her eyes darted toward him. He was watching her with raised brows, chewing his gum like he knew exactly what was being asked. She cleared her throat. “…Perchance,” she said meekly, lips twitching.

Colby grinned and leaned toward her with a smug little hum. “Perchance? That’s how you’re claiming me now?”

Y/N swatted his chest with the back of her hand, and Paul chuckled on the other end.

“Put me on speaker,” Paul said.

She sighed and did as told, tapping the icon. “You’re on.”

“Colby,” Paul greeted.

“Big Papa Paul,” Colby greeted back with a dramatic flare. “Lovely way to start a morning.”

Paul let out something between a grunt and a chuckle. “I’m going to cut to the chase. You’ve seen the photo.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen it,” Y/N said before Colby could offer a clever retort.

“Alright, then you know the internet is spiraling and every news outlet from TMZ to Sports Illustrated wants a piece of it,” Paul continued. “So before anything else happens, I want to know—what’s the situation? Are you two together or was it just… heat of the moment?”

Y/N hesitated.

Colby, surprisingly gentle, answered for both of them. “It was a moment, Paul. No stunt. No planning. Just… a moment.”

“But a good one,” Y/N added quickly, voice soft.

There was silence on the other end for a beat too long. Then Paul exhaled through his nose. “Okay. That’s what I figured. You looked too caught up for it to be fake.”

Y/N blinked. “You saw it?”

“I’ve seen it edited into TikToks, set to Taylor Swift, and reposted by three gossip blogs,” Paul said, amused. “Of course I saw it.”

Colby couldn’t help himself. “Which song though? If it wasn’t ‘Enchanted,’ I’m offended.”

Y/N elbowed him again. “Behave.”

Paul sighed. “Look, I’m not mad. No one’s dragging your names through the mud at corporate. You’re adults. Shit happens. But right now, eyes are on you, and we need to control the story before it spins out of your hands. That’s why I’m calling.”

She swallowed. “Okay…”

“I’m sending Colby to the interview with you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Paul assured. “But the interview’s going to be ten times harder if it’s just you trying to explain away a viral kiss. The audience wants to see you both. It makes it more authentic.”

Y/N frowned. “But I can handle it—”

“I know you can,” Paul interrupted gently. “You’re a pro. That’s not why I’m doing it.”

She pressed her lips together, glancing at Colby. His head tilted slightly, clearly listening in, the corner of his mouth twitching. Paul continued, “This is about optics. Storytelling. Publicity. If you two are already showing up together, looking like the next power couple, we might as well ride the wave. You don’t have to lie. Just own it. People like honesty.”

Colby slid his sunglasses down his nose. “So… let me get this straight, bossman. You want me to sit next to the hottest woman in wrestling, talk about a real kiss we actually shared, and not get yelled at for it?”

Paul sighed again. “Just be respectful.”

Y/N groaned. “That’s gonna be the hardest part for him.”

“Hey,” Colby looked mock-offended. “I can be classy.”

“You wore leopard print to a wedding,” she pointed out.

“Exactly. Classy,” he grinned. “Fashion-forward and fabulous.”

“Jesus Christ,” Paul muttered. “Just… keep it clean and make sure you both get across the same message. Honesty, mutual respect, and no drama.”

“Got it,” Colby said. “No drama. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“Not officially, but I could have been.”

Paul chuckled. “Alright. I’ll let you go. The car should already be waiting for you. You’ve got an hour to get to the studio.”

“Thanks, Paul,” Y/N said genuinely. “For not freaking out.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “Wait until you see the fan signs on Monday.”

The call disconnected and Y/N slowly lowered the phone. They stood in the middle of the airport, bags at their feet, both of them exhaling like they’d just defused a bomb. Colby leaned toward her, his breath warm against her cheek. “So… wanna rehearse our answers? Or should we just improv it and watch the internet combust again?”

Y/N snorted, pulling her hoodie over her head a little more. “Improv feels more authentic.”

“Perfect,” he smirked, tugging at the strap of her bag to pull her close. “Then get ready, baby. We’re about to go viral again.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips wouldn’t leave. Neither would he.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Backstage in the heart of Manhattan, the buzz of studio lights and shifting camera equipment echoed quietly behind the curtain. Y/N adjusted the strap of her top, nerves crawling just beneath the surface. The lights were hot, but not as hot as the pair of eyes tracking her every move. “Stop staring,” she muttered under her breath, barely biting back a smirk.

Colby leaned against the wall beside her, one brow arched with unfiltered amusement. He was dressed sharply—tailored black slacks, crisp shirt slightly undone at the collar, gold watch glinting on his wrist. He had no business looking this good for a press interview, but of course he did. “Can’t help it,” he drawled, eyes dipping shamelessly over her frame. “You make anxious look sexy.”

Y/N tried not to react, but her knees almost buckled. She turned her head away quickly, hiding the grin that crept onto her face. “You’re an idiot,” she murmured, biting her lip.

Colby leaned in closer, close enough that she could smell the faint trace of cologne on his skin—something woodsy, dangerous, stupidly intoxicating. “Maybe,” he whispered, lips brushing just beside her ear, “but it seems like this idiot is exactly your type, huh?”

Before she could think of a reply—or do something very stupid and kiss him right there—the stage manager’s voice interrupted, calling them forward. “And we’re live in five… four…”

Colby just smirked, cocky and charming as always. “We’ll finish that thought later.”

Y/N blinked the heat from her cheeks and followed him out, the bright lights swallowing them as the two stepped onto the sleek set of the talk show. The host, a stylish woman named Dani Rivera—sharp, respected, very New York—greeted them warmly. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she beamed to the camera, “please welcome the reigning World Heavyweight Champion Seth Rollins and the longest-reigning Undisputed WWE Women’s Champion in recent history, Y/S/N!”

The crowd roared. Y/N smiled with practiced ease, her title glinting under the studio lights, while Colby tossed his arms up, basking in the adoration with his signature grin. They took their seats, close—maybe too close, knees brushing, the energy crackling between them.

“So,” Dani started, “I feel like we need to talk about the elephant in the room.” She turned to the screen behind her—and there it was. The infamous photo. Y/N and Colby. Mid-kiss, her hand tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his fingers curling behind her neck, the hallway dim but the moment electric.

Y/N kept her smile, just barely. Colby laughed lightly though. “Gotta say, not our finest angle. I usually dip better than that.”

That broke the tension slightly. The audience chuckled.

“Public display of affection aside,” Dani continued, “how did that come to be? Are the rumors true? Is this the real deal?”

Y/N didn’t even flinch. “Rumors are always gonna fly. I kissed a man I trust. That’s not a scandal, it’s a Friday.”

Colby nodded. “We work together, we fight together, we travel together—tension was bound to break eventually.”

Y/N side-eyed him. “That sounds like a tagline to a bad action movie.”

“Hey, I’d watch it.”

More laughter. They were a storm of charisma, and Dani was eating it up. “I mean, considering you’re in the Bloodline and Seth’s very… not,” Dani added with a glint in her eye, “it adds an interesting layer to things. Any fallout yet?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “I may belong to the Bloodline, but it doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun.” She tilted her head slightly. “I don’t need permission to make a choice that’s mine.”

“And how’d you forgive him?” Dani asked, catching Colby slightly off-guard. “Y’know, for the betrayal. The Shield fallout. That was personal.”

Y/N shrugged. “I’ve never been one to hold a grudge.” Her eyes flicked to Colby, playful and dangerous. “Especially when they’re as lethal and pretty as him.”

Colby chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m gonna quote that for the rest of the week.”

They moved into talk about WrestleMania. Seth spoke about defending the World Heavyweight Title with fire. Y/N spoke about how she wasn’t letting go of the title she bled for, not when Bayley and Iyo were still circling like vultures. It was electric.

And then Dani struck. “I think we’ve all seen this before…” she said, clicking a button.

The screen shifted. It wasn’t Colby this time. It was a different hallway. Different year. A younger Y/N, still in her early twenties. Her arms looped around a man’s neck, his hand cradling her face. The kiss wasn’t desperate—it was slow, soft, like the kind that said everything you were too scared to say out loud.

It was her and Phil.

Colby tensed beside her, and her stomach dropped. “This image resurfaced recently,” the host said casually. “Can you give us any context, Y/S/N? You and Punk were rumored to be involved years ago.”

Y/N froze. She felt it all at once—the dizzying weight of memory slamming into her like a freight train. The hallway had been dim, quiet after a promo segment. They’d just won a mixed tag match. She remembered the feel of his hands on her waist, the familiar rasp of his voice teasing her about her win streak. And then, he kissed her.

Not for show. Not for anyone watching. Just for her.

It wasn’t their first kiss—by then, they’d been sneaking around for months—but it was the first time it felt real. The first time he looked at her like maybe she wasn’t just a partner in the ring. She remembered the flash of the camera. A stagehand. Young, new, stupidly excited. She remembered the rage in Phil’s voice when he found out—how he stormed down the hallway and told someone they had ten seconds to fire the kid before he did it himself.

They’d gotten into a fight about it later. Not about the kiss—about what it meant to have a secret turn public. About what they were, or weren’t.

Her eyes softened despite herself. She could still feel how warm his lips had been. How his thumb traced her cheek after. How his lip ring had felt cool against her now bruised mouth. How she’d smiled against his lips and whispered something dumb—something like, “I should probably punch you for that.”

Phil had grinned. “Then do it again so I can make it worth the bruise.”

She blinked and looked at the host. “That’s… a throwback,” she managed, voice tighter now.

“Care to comment?” Dani asked, eyes gleaming. “Was it serious?”

Y/N breathed out, leaning forward. “I don’t kiss people I don’t care about, Dani. But not everything that’s real is meant to last.”

The room shifted. Even Colby tilted his head slightly, studying her. She moved on fast. “The past is the past. I’m focused on WrestleMania now.”

“Which brings me to my last question,” Dani said, smiling. “What’s the road to Mania look like for both of you?”

Colby jumped in first. “I’m walking in with the World Heavyweight Title, and I’m walking out with it. Whoever thinks they can step up to me is more than welcome to try. Whether they win the Rumble or Elimination Chamber—I’m not backing down.”

Y/N smirked. “Iyo. Bayley. Bianca. It doesn’t matter. I’ve beaten all three of them, and I’ll do it again. My title’s not going anywhere.”

“And the Bloodline?” Dani pressed, “You think they’ll be happy seeing you cozying up to the man who turned on Roman Reigns?”

Y/N smiled dangerously. “They don’t have to like it. I’m not in the Bloodline because I play nice—I’m there because I’m the deadliest woman in this division. I don’t need protection. I am the protection.”

The interview ended with applause. But as they walked offstage, Colby stayed silent a moment too long. She noticed his change in demeanor. “What?” she asked him softly.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

But the look in his eyes said otherwise. He had seen the way she froze. He had seen the way she remembered. And deep down, he didn’t like that Phil Brooks still had that kind of hold on her. Not one damn bit. Especially not when Colby had only just gotten his first taste. And he wanted more.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The ride back to the hotel was mostly quiet, the air still buzzing from the interview. Y/N was leaned against the window of the SUV, scrolling through her phone with her lower lip pulled between her teeth. Notifications were endless—tweets, reposted clips, articles, a million and one fan reactions. Some positive. Some cynical. Some asking about her and Colby. Some asking about the photo of her and Phil. She didn’t know how to feel about any of it yet.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, but this time it wasn’t another notification. It was Paul.

She answered quickly. “Hey, Paul.”

Colby looked over at her from the other seat, adjusting his jacket and waiting patiently, though he couldn’t help the small smile on his face when he heard who it was. “Just got done watching,” Paul’s voice came through, sounding equal parts impressed and relieved. “You two killed it. Professional, charming, intriguing. Flirted just enough to set the internet on fire without giving away anything real. Honestly? That’s how you do it.”

Y/N breathed a soft laugh, her nerves finally starting to settle. “Glad we didn’t crash and burn.”

“You didn’t,” he said firmly. “And I want you at Raw on Monday.”

Y/N’s brows lifted. “Raw? For what?”

“There’s tension building—between you, Colby, the Bloodline, everything,” he said. “We might not have planned it this way, but we’d be idiots not to lean into it now. I want you in Portland. Let the fans simmer all weekend and then walk into Monday like fire.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll be there.”

There was a pause, then Paul sighed. “Also… about the Punk question.” Her eyes flicked to Colby, who was watching her carefully. “That wasn’t cleared. I had no idea they were going to pull that image.”

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, maybe a little too quickly.

“It’s not,” Paul replied. “But the way you handled it—with grace, with composure… you showed them who’s in control. I know it hit a nerve, but you didn’t let it break you. That’s what champions do.”

Her throat tightened, but she pushed the lump down. “Thank you, Paul.”

“You’re welcome, champ. Get some rest. Monday’s a big one.”

She hung up just as the car pulled up to the hotel. She glanced at Colby as they stepped out into the cool New York night. “He said we handled it perfectly. Wants me at Raw.”

Colby smirked, clearly not surprised. “Guess we make a good team.”

They headed through the lobby and into the elevator, the quiet hum of tension filling the space once more. It wasn’t until they reached their shared room and the door clicked shut behind them that the silence stretched too long. Y/N tossed her phone onto the bed and rubbed the back of her neck, her muscles tight from hours of stress, attention, and pretending like the world wasn’t watching her every move. Colby shut the door behind them, flicking on one of the dim bedside lamps and tossing their bags into the corner. He didn’t speak at first. He just studied her — the way she stood stiffly, staring out the window with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“You okay?” he asked finally, voice low and casual — but laced with something deeper.

She nodded once. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“Liar.”

She turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not tired,” he said, stepping closer and peeling off his denim jacket. “You’re overwhelmed. You’ve got that look. Same one you get before a big match — where you try to act calm but your fingers keep twitching and you’re biting your tongue so hard I’m surprised it’s still intact.”

She huffed a short laugh. “I do not do that.”

“You do.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and sat down at the edge of the bed. She exhaled slowly, trying to shake the feeling crawling up her spine. “It’s just… a lot.”

“I know.” Colby sat beside her, hands planted behind him on the mattress. “But you handled it like a champ.”

Y/N gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He tilted his head, watching her carefully. “Wanna talk about it? Or do you wanna pretend everything’s fine and keep dodging the thing we both know is eating at you?”

She went quiet. And then, without looking at him, she mumbled, “That photo. It just… it messed with me.”

“I figured.” His voice stayed even. “It’s not just that it was shown. It’s what it pulled up.”

Y/N sighed. “We were a ‘thing’ I guess for six months at that point. It wasn’t public. Hell, it wasn’t even properly defined. But it mattered. We mattered. Or at least I thought we did.”

Colby stayed quiet, waiting.

“When that picture showed up... it felt like getting punched in the chest. All those memories just... snapped back.”

“What kind of memories?” Colby asked, his voice softer now, less teasing.

She swallowed thickly, eyes trained on a spot on the floor. “I remembered the night it was taken. We were backstage, messing around after a dark match. I don’t even know what I said that made him laugh, but he kissed me. Really kissed me. And I kissed him back. We didn’t know someone had a phone out. That stagehand got fired the next day for taking it. But the damage was done.”

She shifted, rubbing her hands over her thighs. “We ignored it after that. Pretended it didn’t mean anything. But it did. And now? Seeing it like that… it just reminded me of everything we never said.”

Colby didn’t say anything right away. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you still love him?”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I heard you.” She exhaled. “I don’t know. I don’t think I ever did. Not really. But I think I could’ve. And that’s worse.”

Colby turned toward her fully now, legs slightly parted, his voice low. “Let me ask a different question then.”

She blinked. “Okay?”

“Do you want him back?”

Y/N hesitated. Her throat tightened. She didn’t know how to answer that.

“No.”

Colby’s expression didn’t change, but something in his body language softened.

“Because I don’t share, sweetheart,” he said, voice dipping just enough to pull a chill down her spine. “Not something I want.”

Her breath caught. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he leaned in, his hand brushing against her knee, “you’ve been trying so hard to make sense of what that kiss with Phil meant that you haven’t stopped to think about what this means. You and me. Right now.”

She held his gaze, heart pounding. “Colby…”

“I’m not gonna push you,” he said, eyes burning into hers. “But don’t think for one second that I don’t want you. That I don’t think about what would’ve happened if I kissed you first. Or second. Or every damn time since.”

Y/N’s throat dried. Her legs pressed together, the tension sparking like a live wire between them. His hand was still on her knee — not possessive, but grounding. She could feel her body lean closer to him without thinking. Everything in her buzzed.

She hated how easily he undid her.

“You’re not playing fair,” she whispered.

Colby smirked, leaning in close enough for his lips to graze her ear. “I never play fair, baby. Especially not when it comes to something I want.”

That did it. Y/N couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She just moved. She reached for him and crashed her mouth against his, hands curling into his shirt. His fingers immediately tangled in her hair, lips moving over hers with a mix of heat and something dangerously close to relief. Like he’d been holding back just as long.

When she pulled back, breathless, Colby’s eyes were already darkened with that signature, cocky glint. “Took you long enough. Been waitin’ all day for that.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, shoving his shoulder — but she was grinning.

He caught her hand before it fell away and brought it to his mouth, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “I would’ve dipped you better, you know.”

She blinked. “What?”

“In that picture,” he said smugly. “Punk didn’t commit. Weak dip. I would’ve made it better.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes — but something warm bloomed in her chest. Whatever this was… it wasn’t simple. But it was real. And right now, it was exactly what she needed.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The hallway outside the locker rooms was dim, nearly silent now that the final bell of Money in the Bank had rung. The crowd was still buzzing inside the arena, but back here, it felt like time had paused. Y/N’s skin was still slick with sweat beneath her gear, adrenaline still humming under her skin. She paced slowly, trying to come down from the high. From the way she felt after the win. From the way he had looked at her when she pinned their opponents for the three-count.

“You always walk off alone when you win,” Phil’s voice came behind her, smooth and low.

She turned, finding him leaning against the concrete wall with his arms crossed — his dark hair damp, his taped fists flexing slightly. He looked tired. Dangerous. Hot in a way that had her heart doing flips in her chest. “Only when I need a minute to remind myself that I’m not dreaming,” she replied, tucking her hair back. “Besides… I figured you’d be off somewhere basking in the cheers.”

He pushed off the wall and started toward her. “I don’t need cheers. I already know I’m the best in the world.”

“Oh, is that so?” she teased, raising a brow. “Your ego’s going to pop that pretty little head of yours one of these days.”

“I could say the same for you, sweetheart.” He stopped just inches away. “You soaked up that crowd like it was your own personal drug.”

“I’m allowed to. I’m the one who got the win.”

Phil tilted his head, smiling like he knew something she didn’t. “You really wanna go down that road?”

“You afraid I’ll win that one too?”

His eyes darkened. “I think we both know what happens when you start talking like that.”

Y/N swallowed hard. The tension between them had always been there — electric and dangerous, sharp enough to cut with. But lately it had morphed into something hotter. More unstable. They’d been playing with fire for six months, ever since Christmas. Dancing the line between friends with benefits and something more, and now…

Now the air between them was thick with it.

Phil stepped in until her back met the wall. His hand came up beside her head, palm flat against the cold concrete. “Y’know, I’ve been trying real hard to behave tonight,” he murmured, eyes flicking from her lips to her throat and back. “Trying to be the good guy. Celebrate the win. Go home like a professional.”

“Didn’t take,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, voice a little rougher. “No, it really didn’t.”

He dipped his head, letting his nose brush along her cheek, lips hovering right over the shell of her ear. “You keep looking at me like that, Y/N…”

“Like what?” she asked, breath catching.

“Like you want me to take you right here in this hallway.”

Her stomach dropped. Heat pooled low in her belly. She swallowed again, mouth dry. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”

Phil chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating straight through her. “You’re dangerous when you’re confident,” he murmured, his hand trailing down from the wall to brush her hip. “And I can’t decide if I want to shut you up or let you keep talking just to see what you’ll say next.”

Y/N leaned in, lips a hair’s breadth from his. “Maybe I just like the way you look at me when I talk back.”

He groaned softly, his restraint hanging by a thread. “God, you’re such a goddamn brat.”

“Yeah, but I’m your brat.”

Phil’s hand slid around her waist, fingers tightening slightly. “Don’t say shit like that unless you mean it.”

“I do mean it.”

His forehead touched hers. The tension between them was unbearable now, smoldering. His other hand ghosted along her jaw, tilting her face up toward him. His breath was ragged.

“You gonna kiss me or—”

This time, she didn’t get to finish. He crashed his mouth against hers. It was bruising. Desperate. All tongue and teeth and raw need. He tasted like sweat and salt and something darker — something she couldn’t name but had craved for months. Her fingers clawed at the back of his neck as his hand slid around to her lower back, pulling her into him like he wanted to mold their bodies together.

Her fingers slid up the back of his neck, threading through his hair, tugging gently until he hissed through his teeth. He kissed her again, slower this time — like he was trying to memorize the curve of her mouth, the sound of her moan, the way her body melted against his with every second.

And then—

“I think I love you.”

The words left her mouth before she realized she’d even said them. They were raw and real and stupidly honest, tumbling out into the space between them like glass shattering on the floor.

Phil froze. He blinked. Hard.

“What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Say that again.”

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding like she’d just taken a bump off the top rope. “I think I love you.”

He stared at her.

And then he kissed her again.

This time slower. Deeper. More careful. His hand cradled her face like he didn’t want her to go anywhere. When he pulled back, his eyes were softer — just for a second. “I think…” he started, then paused. His lips twitched. “I think I might love you too.”

Y/N smiled — wide and real and terrifying. Neither of them noticed the soft click of a camera shutter from down the hall. They didn’t hear the quiet shuffle of a stagehand disappearing around the corner.

They were too wrapped up in each other. Too tangled in something that felt dangerous and important and terrifyingly new. But the moment — caught in grainy lighting and bad angles — would circulate online hours later. A blurry photo. Her back against the wall. His hand in her hair. Their mouths locked like the world had melted away.

It wasn’t meant to be seen. But it was. And everything would change because of it.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The video played on a muted loop at the bottom of Phil’s screen. A still from the interview. Then the photo. That photo.

Phil hadn’t gone looking for it. He didn’t have to. He’d been tagged on Twitter (he refused to call it “X,” it was too stupid for him to bother with) by at least two dozen wrestling fan accounts.

“CM Punk’s name gets dropped & Y/S/N straight glitches?? 👀👀”

“Nahhh the way she looked at that picture? Punk, I know you see this.”

“You fumbled bro.”

He should’ve ignored it. But curiosity was a sick thing, and it had always gotten the better of him — especially when it came to her.

So, against his better judgment, Phil clicked the link. The interview was slick, polished. The usual PR dance. Y/S/N and Rollins playing it off like pros. Bantering like they hadn’t been caught sucking face in a hotel hallway.

He rolled his eyes, arms crossed as he leaned back in the stiff chair of his Chicago apartment. The cat leapt onto the windowsill behind him, utterly uninterested.

But then…

Then the interviewer brought him up. Not by name at first, but Phil could hear it coming. Like a damn freight train. And when that picture hit the screen — blurry, dim lighting, the unmistakable capture of their kiss, his hands tangled in her gear, her clutching the front of his shirt like he’d just given her oxygen — he saw it.

He saw her.

And she froze.

Phil sat up straighter. Rewound. Watched again.

There was no mistaking the look on her face. It wasn’t just surprise. It wasn’t embarrassment.

It was her look.

The one she used to get when they were alone, when the walls came down. The look she gave him after matches when they crashed onto a couch together, bruised and breathless. The one right before she whispered things he wasn’t ready to hear — and said them anyway.

It sucker-punched him. He hadn't seen that look in… God. Years.

His thumb tapped against the edge of his coffee mug as he watched her quickly school her expression and deliver some half-clever, deflecting line. Classic Y/N — sharp tongue, steel armor, heart hidden behind bulletproof sarcasm.

But it slipped for just a second. And he saw it.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. The ego in him — the part that always needed to be right — felt smug. But the part of him that didn’t like feelings? That part hated this.

She still felt something. And that something had nothing to do with Rollins.

The knock came a few hours later — a soft rap of reality in the form of a digital schedule emailed to all top talents for Monday Night Raw. The kind of email he usually skimmed at best.

But this time… her name caught his eye.

Y/S/N: Confirmed Appearance – Portland. Monday.

Phil sat back, staring at the screen like it was a trap. He even clicked to enlarge it. Double checked. There it was. Clear as day.

She was going to be there.

For the first time since everything exploded — the outburst a month or so ago, the kiss photo, the interview, the silence that followed — she would be in the same building. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, that made something buzz under his skin.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. Hell, he didn’t know if she’d even talk to him. The way they’d been handling things… hadn’t exactly been friendly. Or gentle. He’d lashed out. She yelled. Shut each other out. Walked off and closed the door behind them because it hurt less than staying.

But now? Especially after the phone call from Christmas. Maybe he’d have a shot.

Because now she was crashing into his life again, unannounced, like she always did. Through a goddamn screen. With his name on her face.

Phil smirked to himself, biting the inside of his cheek. “Guess I’ll see you Monday, sweetheart.”

There was a twinge in his chest he didn’t want to name. He stood, stretching out his arms, trying to physically shake it off. Feelings weren’t his strong suit. Jealousy? Sure. Anger? Always. But whatever this was? That lingering warmth under the surface? He didn’t like it. Didn’t trust it. But he was going to see her. And he was going to figure out just what the hell that look meant. Even if he had to drag it out of her himself.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

If Y/N had forgotten how wild Raw was, tonight was the loudest possible reminder.

Not even an hour into arriving backstage, she was already being pulled in three different directions — everyone wanting a piece of her, whether to gossip, hug her, or throw a microphone in her hand. She hadn’t even seen Colby since he left to change, and honestly? She was thriving.

She was halfway through sipping a smoothie — bless whoever stocked the catering fridge — when a voice purred behind her like velvet.

“Well, well, well... if it isn’t my only competition in this business back on our turf.”

Y/N turned with a sly grin just in time for Demi to saunter up, black tank top clinging to her tattooed frame like it was custom-made to ruin lives.

“Demi,” Y/N said, holding her arms out dramatically. “God, you’re even hotter than I remembered. Is that legal?”

Demi’s grin grew, dimples on full display. “Depends on the state.”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “Then lock me up, officer.”

From somewhere behind them, Luis audibly choked.

“I take back everything I ever said,” he said, walking up with a hand over his heart. “This is who I should’ve been worried about.”

Josh — Jey Uso in all his chain-wearing, hype-filled glory — trailed behind, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his phone. “Nah, Luis was all cocky two minutes ago until Y/N looked at Mami like she wanted to—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll superkick your jaw loose,” Demi warned, but she was smirking too. “Don’t act like you both wouldn’t fold for her either.”

Y/N raised her brows. “I didn’t see a folding offer on the table, but I’m not opposed.”

Josh hollered. Luis held a hand up. “I need everyone to calm down. Seth’s not even in the ring yet and this girl’s already breaking hearts.”

Josh pointed between them. “Y’all really letting her play the whole locker room like Uno cards.”

“I’m just friendly,” Y/N shrugged, mock-innocent.

“Friendly?” Luis barked a laugh. “You just offered to get arrested by Ripley.”

“I’m nothing if not supportive,” she said, grinning.

Demi winked at her. “And I appreciate that, babe.”

Luis rolled his eyes. “You know what? Fine. I’ll sit in the corner and reevaluate my life while Mami and chaos incarnate flirt like it’s Pride After Dark.”

Josh crossed his arms. “Y/N, be honest… if it came down to it — me, Luis, or Demi — who would you pick?”

“Demi,” Y/N said instantly.

The boys groaned in unison. Demi cackled and threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulder like she’d just won a damn championship.

“Not even hesitation?” Josh asked, clutching his chest.

Y/N just sipped her smoothie. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Joshua.”

Luis shook his head. “Colby’s somewhere out there lacing his boots, and this woman’s out here building a harem.”

“Tell him to lace ‘em tighter,” Y/N winked. “He’s got competition.”

Josh was mid-wheeze when a production assistant passed by, holding a headset and calling out down the hallway. “Everyone get your finishing touches done— ten-minute cue!”

Y/N’s grin faltered for just a second, her stomach fluttering with anticipation. She was here to support Colby. It was the whole reason Paul asked her to be there.But she hadn’t expected to have this much fun backstage. Not after everything that had happened lately.

Luis called after her, voice teasing. “You’re gonna save his ass out there tonight, aren’t you?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder. “Only if he bleeds pretty.”

Josh cupped his hands around his mouth. “SIMP!”

“Say it louder!” she threw back with a laugh, already disappearing around the corner.

But as her laughter echoed down the hallway, there was a flicker of something underneath — something almost soft. Because as much as she was living for the chaos, she couldn’t deny it anymore: Raw felt right. She loves her family on SmackDown, but this just felt natural. She felt free. And for the first time in a long time… she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N stands in Gorilla, a playful smirk on her face as Seth’s entrance echoed throughout the arena. The audience had no idea she was even there. Seeing her go out there to protect him would make everyone lose their minds. It makes her smile just thinking about how loud the reaction is going to be.

Seth walked out with his belt wrapped around his waist, strutting around with that never ending cockiness that she loved to see. He did his infamous character walk, strutting down the stage and towards the ring as he obnoxiously interacts with the fans.

He looks good. He always does. Even though his outfits have always been deemed dramatic, she loved the eccentricism. He could pull off the most ridiculous things. He could wear a feather boa and somehow manage to make it look sexy.

She knew some people were watching her while she was watching him. Everyone seemed much more attentive about how they act around each other after their kiss. Like they were searching for the romance that was clearly brewing between them.

She smiles as he soaks in the voices that are singing his song. He climbs into the ring with practiced ease, directing the audience like a band director. He does another little dance, grabbing his microphone as his song starts to fade out. The audience still continues to sing even after his entrance theme stops. Y/N shakes her head with a small chuckle at the arrogant smile on his face. It only grows with his ego.

“PORTLAND OREGON!” He screams into the mic, prompting more screams from the crowd. It’s almost immediate, many members in the crowd start chanting her name as well. A blush rises to her cheeks backstage but Colby manages to keep it together.

“Welcome to Monday Night Rollins!” They still echo his last name even though the show is about forty minutes from its end. He still manages to hold their attention like it’s the very beginning of the show. “I am a visionary. I am a revolutionary. I am your world heavyweight champion,” he prances around the ring, patting the belt like it’s his child. “Seth!” He holds the microphone up in the air, prompting the audience to finish with:

FREAKIN’ ROLLINS!

He laughs, “Oh–ho–ho Rip city, you have done it again, man.” The crowd screams again, appreciating the praise he so openly gives them. “Ah… But Portland, we are in the home stretch now with the Royal Rumble just a few weeks away. After that, we are on the road to WrestleMania!”

“Now, now my WrestleMania track record, pretty good, pretty good,” he gives himself his flowers. “I’ve won a couple of titles. I had a little cash in. But Portland, there is actually one thing that I have never done when it comes to WrestleMania…” He points down at his belt, “I have never taken a world title in to WrestleMania. I’ve never been the headline. I’ve never been in the marquee. But that all changes this year, because this is the year of Seth Freakin’ Rollins!”

Seeing him speak with such conviction makes Y/N suck her bottom lip between her teeth. Confidence has always looked good on him. Watching him accomplish this new feat in his career was something she couldn’t have been prouder of. She’s had the opportunity to carry a title into Mania, so she’s absolutely thrilled to see him get to do the same.

“I worked too hard, I worked too long. I took a title that a year ago did not even exist, and I turned it into the most important prize in this industry.” Everyone cheers in agreement as he continues. “And I did it the way I said I was gonna do it. I was gonna be a fighting champion and I was gonna be a workhorse champion. But Portland, the work is not done. No, no, no, no, no, ‘cause I’ve got one little question. Who am I going to beat at the grandest stage of them all?” He pauses, allowing the crowd to scream their own opinions into existence.

CM Punk’s name is the clearest one. Seth smirks, but there is a little twitch in his jaw. “In his dreams maybe,” he says mockingly with an airy chuckle. He points backstage, “Because that Raw roster is so loaded from top to bottom, and there are so many super sta–”

That’s when Jinder Mahal’s music starts to play. Y/N has to hold back a laugh at the look on Colby’s face when Jinder walks out. His head tilts to the side, eyebrows furrowed, mouth open, but not in a shocked way. No, more like in a “I’ve never been more lost in my life” way. Almost like he completely forgot Jinder was supposed to come out in the first place.

Jinder takes his time strolling to the ring. Seth turns and asks the commentators if they knew about his appearance. When he makes it to the squared circle, he snakes a microphone from a stagehand before turning to the audience and mocking Seth. He moves his finger like an orchestrator, the same way Seth does when people sing his song. The audience boos in retaliation.

Jinder raises the mic, “Of course you’re out here singing your own praises,” he chastises. “Ladies and gentlemen, the revolutionary, the visionary.” He rolls his eyes as Seth continues watching him, completely perplexed. “How is it that last week, within five minutes, I was more of a revolutionary than you’ve been in the past five years you’ve been calling yourself that?”

That enticed more sounds of disagreement from the crowd. Y/N had to give Jinder credit where it was due, he makes a great heel. “Your only purpose is to entertain these clowns and further push this agenda of degeneracy.” He gestures to the audience who are growing more and more impatient with his antics.

“You think I’m lying, Portland? Take a look around!” He shouts. “Take a look around. Take a look at your city. Degeneracy at every street corner.” The people roar angrily as he continues to berate their home, while Colby just stares off into the distance for a moment, not interested in hearing what he’s saying. “Am I lying?”

“The world heavyweight champion,” he turns his attention back to Seth, “The man with the platform. Yet you instill no change, you speak no truth. You sing, you dance, you dress up.” Seth glances down at his own outfit, nodding with a small smirk. He’s proud of how crazy his outfits are. “You bring no value. You throw childish temper tantrums when things don’t go your way, when the show goes off the air. But I digress, I digress.”

“You pride yourself as a workhorse, a man who provides opportunities, except to a tenured, decorated, deserving former WWE champion.” He points to himself. Seth’s lips are pursed in annoyance as he continues to let Jinder go on his rant. “You have the audacity to overlook the modern day Mahraja. You have the audacity to overlook me!” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Let me remind you, I beat Randy Orton, the greatest of all time, and I did it with ease.”

Y/N glances over at the sound guy and he nods at her, putting up a two with his hand. She smiles and sends a thumbs up in response. This venting session is dragging on a lot longer than she thought it would. Relief floods her when she realizes it’s almost time for her entrance.

“Yet you disrespect me, you overlook me! This disrespect will not be tolerated. And Seth, I’ve known you for a long time. I see through this facade, this charade. I see through it all.” Jinder gestures up and down Seth’s form. “But for the first time, Seth, look me in my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I have your attention.”

Jinder continues smirking as Seth starts scratching the back of his head. He looks as though he’s trying to prevent himself from bursting out in laughter. He raises his mic to his lips, “Jinder, I may say something that might surprise you right now, but you’re right. You’re right, we have been overlooking you.” He turns to look at each and every audience member. “We have been overlooking Jinder Mahal, but Jinder, um…” he trails off, shrugging with mock sympathy. “That– that wasn’t an accident, we’ve actually been doing it on purpose.”

Y/N has to slap a hand over her mouth as she involuntarily snorts. His delivery and facial expressions never fail to make everything ten times better. “Yeah, for years, man, we’ve been trying to forget you until last week when you showed up and The Rock put your balls in a vice.” He throws his hands up, saying that he really is only telling the truth, and the audience goes absolutely insane. They cheer loudly, enjoying watching the Visionary put Mahal in his place.

“But– but– but here’s the thing, Jinder, I gotta admit, guys, I admire the fact that after The Rock fried him last week, he showed back up. He stood back up, he got back up. I appreciate that, I respect that. What I don’t respect is you coming out here and ruining our party and gettin’ in my face!”

Seth steps up, shoulders squared as he returns the favor, getting in Jinder’s face. “So yeah, you got my attention, Jinder. You’re sick of being overlooked.” He takes his belt off, tossing it to the side. “You wanna do something that these people are gonna remember you forever for?” The crowd screams once more as Seth takes a step back, urging Jinder to come at him. “Take a swing, Jinder. Take a swing, Jinder!” Seth continues antagonizing him, “Come on, Jinder, take a swing! Come on, I’m right here! Do it, swing on me, Jinder, swing!”

When he doesn’t, Seth just chuckles with a cocky smile. “That’s what I thought… Same old, Jinder.” He mockingly taps Mahal’s chest with the microphone before turning around. The moment Seth turned his back though, Jinder struck.

A brutal clothesline leveled the World Heavyweight Champion, dropping him like a sack of bricks. The crowd erupted into furious boos as Seth hit the mat hard, the mic bouncing across the ring. Jinder didn’t stop—he immediately pounced, raining down hard stomps to Seth’s ribs, his back, his chest.

Jinder raised a knee, catching Seth’s midsection, and the Visionary rolled over in pain, coughing. Mahal circled him like a predator, shouting something inaudible over the boos of the crowd. He grabbed a fistful of Seth’s hair and wrenched him upright—

And then the arena exploded. Y/N’s music blasted through the speakers, and Portland nearly blew the roof off the arena.

Michael Cole's voice shot over the pop. “Wait a minute—WAIT A MINUTE! It’s Y/N! Y/N is HERE!”

“Things just got very interesting,” Wade Barrett added, his voice practically vibrating. “And if I were Jinder Mahal, I’d be rethinking my life choices!”

Out from the curtain, Y/N came storming down the ramp, her boots pounding the steel with purpose, her body low and dangerous like a wolf charging the hunt. Her eyes were locked on the ring. On Jinder. He barely had time to react. He turned, shocked, as she slid into the ring and launched herself at him with zero hesitation.

She speared him to the mat and the crowd went nuts. Y/N wasted no time—her fists rained down on him, wild but calculated, each punch finding its mark. She didn't even give him a second to breathe. She mounted him and drove her elbow straight into his collarbone. Jinder’s hands flew up defensively, but it was too late. She had snapped.

Cole practically lost it. “Y/N is absolutely unloading on Jinder Mahal! She’s not here to talk—she’s here to fight!”

“She’s protecting Seth Rollins,” Barrett added. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this vicious.”

Jinder managed to roll out from under her, crawling toward the ropes like a wounded animal, but Y/N grabbed his ankle and yanked him back. He twisted and tried to kick her, but she dodged, grabbed his leg, and dropped him with a dragon screw that left him shouting in pain.

Then she stood—and the entire crowd saw it. The fire in her eyes. The rise and fall of her chest. The tension in her jaw. She dared Jinder to come back.

He didn’t. He rolled under the ropes and dropped to the floor outside, clutching his knee and looking like he’d just seen a ghost. Boos rained down on him as he stumbled toward the barricade, one hand outstretched as if begging for the chaos to stop.

Back in the ring, Seth was slowly getting up. One hand braced on the ropes, the other pressed to his ribs—but he never took his eyes off her. Not once. The way she stood there… the command in her posture, the heat still simmering in her gaze, the way she exhaled like a dragon just learning how to breathe fire—Seth had never seen anything so devastatingly hot in his life. And he’d seen a lot.

She turned toward him, her face softening just a little when she saw him watching her. She stepped over, hand outstretched, but he didn’t take it right away. He just looked at her. Like he couldn’t believe she was real. Like she had just rewritten every definition of the word loyalty.

And then he smiled—wide and whipped. “I always knew you had my back,” he said, voice low enough just for her to hear.

“You doubted I would?” she teased, quirking a brow.

His lips curved into something half-cocky, half-worshipful. “Didn’t doubt it. Just wasn’t prepared for how good it would look.”

Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes as she helped him the rest of the way up. The crowd cheered as she looped one of his arms over her shoulders, supporting him as he leaned into her. And just when it seemed like things were calming down—Seth leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “Remind me to get jumped more often if it means you’ll show up looking like that.”

Y/N elbowed him in the ribs—again. He winced, but he grinned. The commentary team couldn’t contain themselves. “There is something brewing here, folks,” Cole said, “and after the interview, after that kiss, I think it’s safe to say—Y/N and Seth Rollins are not just coworkers anymore.”

“If this is what the road to WrestleMania looks like,” Barrett added, “I’m all in.”

Seth raised his belt again with his free hand, but this time, he didn’t celebrate alone. Y/N stood by his side, one hand resting on his shoulder, the crowd screaming their names in equal volume. She saved him. And the audience would never forget it.

The second Y/N and Seth stepped past the curtain, Gorilla erupted into quiet applause and knowing smirks. A few producers nodded in approval, and one of the writers mouthed, “That was fire.”

Seth—still buzzing with adrenaline—spun toward her with a grin that could have lit up the entire backstage hallway. He didn’t even bother slowing down before grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in close, his forehead briefly pressing to hers.

“You’re insane, you know that?” he said, breathless with awe. “And I mean that in the hottest possible way.”

Y/N laughed, heart still racing from the run-in, her hands resting lightly on his chest. “You looked like you were holding back a scream when Jinder started talking.”

“Because I was,” he grinned, hands not moving from her waist. “But then you came out like an absolute beast and—” He whistled, leaning back just enough to look at her fully. “Portland’s gonna be chanting your name for weeks. You owned that.”

Her cheeks flushed. She hated how flustered he could still make her, even when she was riding the high of beating someone down. “Thanks, Lopez. Try not to get too obsessed.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” he teased with a wink. “I’d kiss you right now, but if I don’t go change, someone’s gonna throw a headset at me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, smirking. “Then go. But don’t take too long or I’ll start charming someone else.”

He leaned in again, his mouth hovering just beside her ear. “I dare you.”

With one final, knowing smirk, Colby jogged off toward the locker rooms, turning back to give her a once-over before disappearing around the corner. Y/N watched him leave, smiling to herself… until a familiar voice broke her out of her daze. “Well, well, well. Look who’s living their main character era.”

She turned to find Cody Rhodes walking toward her, a teasing grin pulling at his lips and that signature sparkle in his eyes. He opened his arms and she instantly stepped into the hug, wrapping her arms tight around her longtime friend. “Hey you.”

“You just speared a man twice your size and made it look easy,” he said as they pulled back, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “And you’ve got Seth Rollins looking at you like you invented sliced bread.”

Y/N laughed, elbowing him lightly. “Shut up.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Cody grinned. “You look happy. And that’s not something we’ve always been able to say about you, especially not this time of year.”

She paused, heart warming at the sentiment. “Thanks, Cody. I... I think I actually am.”

“You better be. Because no one deserves it more than you,” he said sincerely. “Brandi and I were just saying the other night, we haven’t seen you since before the holidays.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been meaning to come over—”

“Well now you don’t have to mean to. You just have to show up,” he cut in with a grin. “This weekend. You, Colby—if he’s around. We could use some adult company, and Liberty’s been pacing the house like a miniature boss asking when Auntie Y/N is coming back.”

Y/N’s face lit up. “You know I’ll be there. I’ll clear it with Colby, but even if he can’t make it, I’m definitely coming.”

“Good,” Cody smiled. “We miss you.”

“I miss you guys too.”

He gave her one last squeeze of the shoulder and nodded toward the hallway. “Now go do whatever it is mysterious spearing badasses do after they shake up an arena.”

She laughed again, watching him walk away, warmth still lingering from the interaction. Y/N had turned to walk away as well, but had barely been able to take a few steps down the hallway when he turned the corner.

Phil.

Time stopped the second they locked eyes. There wasn’t anyone else around, not really. She could hear the low buzz of chatter in the background, maybe a radio squawking, but none of it mattered. It was just them. Like it always had been. Like it hadn’t been in years. He was standing there, arms crossed, shoulder leaned slightly against the wall. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing faded tattoos she used to know like the back of her hand. His expression was unreadable—calm, but with something else brewing beneath the surface.

Y/N stopped walking. So did he.

A beat passed… Then another.

Finally, his voice broke the stillness. “…Hey.”

Simple. Familiar. A thousand things buried in one word. She blinked, keeping her posture calm, even though her stomach flipped. “Hi.”

The awkwardness lingered—not heavy, not biting, just weighted. Like two people trying to read each other without letting their eyes linger too long. He shifted a little, eyes flickering down the hallway, then back to her. “Did you see my segment?”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, crossing her arms to mirror his posture. “Kinda hard not to. You were halfway to throwing hands with Drew within the first three minutes.”

Phil smirked, something flickering in his gaze. “What can I say? He’s got one of those faces.”

She chuckled, quiet and involuntary. The kind of laugh that surprised her. Phil’s head tilted slightly, his eyes not leaving hers. “You were good out there,” he said, his voice low, sincere. “That spear… you looked like you’d been waiting to do that for months.”

Y/N’s brow lifted. “Maybe I have.”

There was a moment between them then, one of those charged silences full of everything they weren’t saying. His gaze dropped—briefly—to her lips. Not intentionally. Not obviously. But she saw it. “So,” he started again, trying to keep it casual, “the interview.”

“Yeah…” she exhaled slowly. “That was a surprise.”

“You froze,” he said, more observation than accusation.

Y/N stiffened slightly. “It caught me off guard. That photo was never supposed to make it out.”

Phil’s lips pulled into a crooked half-smile. “Yeah, I remember. The stagehand I got fired, right?”

“Immediately,” she nodded. “Vince was pissed.”

Phil hummed. “I was too in the beginning when it happened, but after a while I wasn’t. I like that photo.”

Y/N swallowed, eyes flickering away. “It was just a kiss.”

“It wasn’t,” he said plainly. “Not to me. And I know it wasn’t for you either.”

She looked back at him, caught off guard by how quietly honest he sounded. Phil never said things like that easily. Never without deflection or sarcasm. “You really believe that?” she asked.

Phil shrugged, mouth twisting slightly. “I’m not big on rewriting history. Especially not the parts that mattered.”

That shut her up. He let the silence stretch between them for a beat before continuing. “Listen,” he said, taking a small step closer. “At Christmas… I meant what I said. About talking. About not leaving things where they are.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, a mix of emotions running across her face. “I’ve thought about it,” she admitted.

“But?” he asked gently.

“No but,” she said. “I just… haven’t figured out what I want yet.”

Phil gave a soft, dry laugh. “You never did. That was always part of the fun.”

Her brow arched. “Is this your idea of flirting?”

“It’s my idea of being honest,” he replied, tone dropping. “You think I don’t see it? You see that photo, and you go somewhere. Somewhere we never got to finish.”

That hit her harder than she wanted to admit. He stepped forward again, just close enough for her to catch a familiar whiff of his cologne—clean, warm, him. “I know I hurt you,” he continued. “I know I didn’t handle things right when it mattered most. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

“You’re still really bad at apologies,” she said softly.

Phil cracked a small smile. “I said I didn’t handle it right. That’s my version of ‘I’m sorry.’”

Y/N huffed. “Charming.”

“But I meant what I said,” he added. “Let me take you for coffee tomorrow. Just to talk. Ten minutes, that’s all I’m asking. If you want to scream at me the whole time, I’ll pick the coffee shops with the best acoustics.”

She almost laughed—almost. But there was still something tugging in her chest. “You sure you’re ready for that?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “Hearing everything I’ve been holding in?”

Phil’s gaze was steady. “I think I deserve it.”

That stung, only because it was true. Y/N hesitated. Her heart thudded in her chest, confused by all the history, the heat, the hurt. But finally… she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Coffee. Ten minutes.”

Phil let out a quiet breath. He didn’t look smug—he looked… something else. Relieved. Curious. Maybe even hopeful. He nodded once. “Cool.”

Then he turned to walk past her, but paused just as they brushed shoulders.

“And Y/N?” He glanced back over his shoulder, voice lower this time.

“You still wear that look like a shield, y’know.” Y/N blinked, caught off guard. Phil gave her a small, unreadable smile. “Used to think I was the only one who could see past it.” Then he turned fully and walked away, leaving her standing there — still, quiet, and suddenly unsure what she wanted more:

To run after him…

Or to run in the opposite direction.

[saturneras]

Private Eyes I

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Fresh out of law school and spending the summer with your parents in your hometown, you’re looking to gain some new work experience without having to slave your life away in a big law firm. As a favor to your brother, his buddy Tommy gets you a last minute spot to work at the local police department. The chief of police however is none other than the unnervingly grumpy and mean Joel Miller aka Tommy‘s older brother and member of your brother‘s weekly poker round. The moment you meet him you know he doesn’t want you there and he is not afraid to make it known. And you sure do like to make a man lose his composure. He‘s not the first one to challenge you, but will he be the last?

Note: This is my first post, so please be gentle. This story does not aspire to be realistic or accurate representation of law enforcement etc. and is purely for your enjoyment. English is not my first language, but I’ll try my best. Hope you love to read it as much as I do writing it.

„So you really think this is all going to work out?“

Your brother Casey groans and changes lanes to take the exit. „I told you before and I will tell you again: Tommy said that he’s totally cool with it.“

„I don’t trust it. From what you’ve told me I don’t picture him as a guy who says he’s cool with it“, you reply and look at the trees passing my. Summer is here in its entirety and apart from the gentle cooling breeze rushing in through the cracked passenger seat window, the lingering heat hasn’t lifted for days. You watch your brother shake his head as he slows down at a red light and glances your way. That is what you get for staying in your hometown for the summer in a city without any public transport - relying on your older brother for a ride to work.

„Once you get to know him he’s actually pretty laid back“, he says.

„You literally told me a few weeks ago that you haven’t met anyone who is more of a control freak“, you say.

„I did not call him a control freak, I just said that he likes to be in control and does not take kindly to people distrusting that. He just likes things to be a certain way. Can’t blame him when he’s got all the responsibility." Casey shrugs, changing the radio station to country music.

„He’s a police officer”, you say. “Not the president.”

“He’s the chief of police”, your brother corrects and pulls up in front of a cream coloured building. A huge stone sign graces its front facing wall. Police Department. “Maybe you should dial down the judgy tone.”

You scoff. “I wasn’t being judgmental. I’m just trying to figure out in what kind of lions den you’re sending me.”

He grins. “Just remember that you were the one who wanted to “gain experience in the real world.” He emphasizes his quotation with his fingers. “I told you to spend the summer lying by the pool and reading your fantasy novels or whatever weird shit you’re currently obsessing over.”

You can't help but roll your eyes and unbuckle your seatbelt. "I'll try to keep the attitude to a minimum."

"Just give him a bit of time to warm up to you."

You let out a theatrical gaps. "Am I not a delight to meet brother dearest?"

Now it is Casey's turn to role his eyes. "Just don't embarrass me. The older Miller is already creepily good at mind games while playing poker and I don't need him to gain more leverage on me."

After stepping out of the car, you turn around and Casey rolls the window down further. "Thanks for the ride. Feels just like high school."

"Don't get used to it. I'll be on the site with Tommy until about five and then head over to Mickey's for a drink if you want a ride back."

"Sure", you nod. "I'll text you when I'm out."

Casey pulls out of the parking lot and you give a little wave as he turns the corner and drives out of sight. You exhale a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and turn around, facing the entrance. From what you have heard about the oldest Miller brother, you are not entirely convinced that this will be a smooth ride. Grumpy, demanding, ruthless, closed-off and moody are only a couple of words Casey used to describe Joel Miller. And even though you've known Tommy since he and your brother opened their contractor business, you have never laid eyes on his big brother before. The front entrance door swings open and rips you out of your thoughts. A woman, probably in her mid 50s, steps out of the building, looking at you and then around the almost empty parking lot. She frowns for a moment and then her eyes dart back to you.

"Are you okay there, honey?" Her voice is soft and low, sounding familiar even though you've never seen her before.

You nod eagerly. "Yes, sorry, I was just about to go in."

"Do you need another minute or are you ready?"

Taking the last couple of steps toward the entrance you grab the door she is holding open with her extended arm. "Ready."

"Is this your first time?" She asks me.

"Yes, actually", you reply.

"How are you feeling on a scale of one to 10, one being the worst?"

Well, that is unusual.

"I guess.. a good 8?"

"Great", she smiles and turns around, walking toward a desk in the entrance of the police station. "Here are the forms, if you need anything just let me know, I will be right over there and especially if you need any medical attention. Do you need medical attention?"

You shake your head quickly. "No..no, of course not. Why would I need medical attention?"

She hands me a clipboard with forms attached to it and a gel pen. "It is just protocol to ask, you know. But I am glad you're feeling well."

You sit down and glance at the files. This looks like a lot of personal questions for a summer job. Scanning the forms a couple of times, you get up towards the desk, just as the entrance door opens behind you.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, but I am not quite sure why exactly I need to fill this out? I thought I had already sent my CV over a week ago."

"Your CV? Why would we need your CV?"

"Everything good, Lori?" A voice from behind you resounds and you turn around. A guy in dark blue police uniform and a blonde buzzcut stands a couple of steps behind you and smiles.

Lori reciprocates the smile and rises from her seat. "Oh yes, Daniel. This woman is just filling out the assault report."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "A what? No, I am not filling that out."

She winks at you. "Sure, you are not."

"I think there's been a mistake. I am here for the summer job. Tommy Miller sent me."

Lori frowns and thankfully Daniel steps forward and offers you his hand. "You're Casey's sister, right?"

You exhale gratefully and take his hand. "Yes, I am."

"I'm Daniel Riley", he says and you introduce yourself.

Daniel shakes your hand, while looking over at Lori. "This is who the chief was talking about the other day."

Lori's face tenses. "Oh I am so sorry, dear. I thought you were here for our weekly office hours for women in need."

You give her a smile and wave it off. "No worries."

"Do you want me to call the chief?" She asks Daniel.

He shakes his head. "No need, I'll just give her the tour."

Lori nods and looks to you. "Well, if you need anything, I am right here up front."

"Thanks", you say and follow Daniel through the hallway leading further into the station.

He introduces you to the two officers in the kitchen having coffee and leads you through the whole floor, explaining how everything works. "You know we all thought you were Tommy's girlfriend, you know?"

"Why? Because he put in a good word?"

"More so because the chief acted like he was agreeing to taking a bullet to the chest for letting you work here for the summer", Daniel replies and chuckles.

"That sounds reassuring", you huff.

"So not Tommy's girlfriend?"

You shake your head. "No, just the sister of a very convincing brother."

"Good to know." Daniel grins. "Have you talked to the chief about your tasks yet?"

"Not yet, no", you say, walking beside him toward the back of the station.

"Well, maybe he is out or something. But he usually will show himself at the staff meeting at around 11. Until then, maybe you can help me out a bit?" His green eyes shimmer faintly in the fluorescent office light.

"Sure, what do you need?"

He opens the door to a dark room and turns on the light. Rows of shelves filled with boxes fill up the room and the room is so badly lit and stuffy that you have to squint your eyes to make out the size of it.

"This is the archive", Daniel explains rather redundantly. "I need a couple of files for a case I am working on. Do you mind getting them out and over to my desk?"

"I can do that."

"Great", he says. "I need every robbery case from 1979 to 1981 that you can find okay?"

"I'll have them right over," you say and step into the room, leaving Daniel behind you.

The room's smell reminds you of your school's old gym basement, where they used to store all the old equipment. You walk further among the shelves and try to make out the labels. Thank god, they are labeled by years, so you quickly can find 1980 and 1981. But even after having checked every shelf, you cannot find 1979. Just when you're about to asks for help, you find yourself in front of a filing cabinet towering over you and on top the missing box. Perfect. You rise on your tiptoes and stretch your arms as high as possible, only reaching the bottom of the box. Slowly, you try to move it toward you without catching dust and dirt in your eyes. The box is heavier than the other ones and it takes a while for you to move it almost over the edge. When it's just about to tip over, the door behind you slams shut.

"Hey Daniel, can you give me a hand with this one?" You asks him and the footsteps are closing in on you. You try to turn your head to take a glance at what's behind you, but the box of files tips toward you. You manage to whisper a breathy oh no, when not only the box, but the whole locker tilts and falls toward you. You flinch and try to step out of danger zone, when suddenly you are slammed against the file cabinet by something hard. Your body is locked in between whatever pushed you against the locker and the door itself, still leaning dangerously close to you, but not falling. Whatever is pressed against your back is effectively caging you in. It feels heavy and ..warm.

"Can I help you?" You asks tentatively.

"That's what I am trying to do here." The voice is low and not much more than a growl as it sounds right next to your ear. Definitely not Daniel. The man's breath trailing down the side of your throat, warming the spot between neck and your shoulder. You suppress a shiver that's just waiting to pass over your back.

"If you could just move, I can get out", you suggest and the man huffs.

"If I move, this cabinet will fall and take you down with it, Darlin'."

You move your head as much as you can and look up above you just to realise that the cabinet and with it the box of files is only being held up by two thick arms in a white dress shirt. "Oh."

"I need you to get on your knees", he says and your body tenses. What?

"Excuse me?"

He groans. "Just get on your knees and crawl, damn it."

"I don't know what your deal is, but if you keep this up you will get to know mine", you reply and your threat earns nothing but a low chuckle that dies as quick as it started.

"If you don't get out from underneath, I can't let that damned thing go. So just get on your goddamn knees and move. I can't hold it much longer."

"Famous last words", you say and try to lower yourself to your knees. The locker is so close that you cannot exactly move away from the guy behind you, so you need to slide down while pressed against him.

You bend your knees and slide your back down his front, slowly toward the floor, trying not to lose your balance. His whole body goes rigid and you are sure you imagine the quick release of a held breath once your knees make contact with the floor. You turn around and crawl out from underneath the locker, past the man's shoes. Just as you rise to your feet, a loud crash announces the final fall of the cabinet. The man's broad back is still turned to you, when the door opens and Daniel steps in.

"What on earth is going on here?" He calls.

The man turns around, illuminated by the streams of light coming in from the open door and finally you can take a good look at him. He is wearing a loosened grey tie over his white shirt and beige slacks. Except for a rogue one dangling on his forehead, his dark brown curls are neatly slicked back. The urge to run your hands through them arises, making you wonder. Maybe it's just the dimly lit room but he's got the darkest eyes you've ever seen. And these eyes are staring right at you, fixating on your face with an impression that you can't quite place. He doesn't even waste a glance at Daniel.

"Leave us", he says slowly.

A frown appears on Daniel's forehead. "Can I do anything?"

"Just shut the goddamn door, Riley," he says without any room for discussion. And when Daniel takes a step further inside he continues: "Behind you."

Daniel just huffs out a breath and closes the door behind him. The silence following his retreat is deafening. No one says anything for a whole minute, just the sound of his and my breathing filling the air.

"You're late", he finally says.

"I got held up filling out the assault forms", you reply.

The ever-present frown on his face deepens. "Why were you filling out the assault forms?"

"They thought I was looking for help", you say. "But I'm here now."

"You don't think you need to be on time?" He replies.

"I got here at 9," you say.

"Shift starts at 7:30", he states.

"Well, no one told me that."

"Did you ask?"

What is this guys deal? The outside apparently does not match the inside.

"No, I did not", you say, crossing your arms. "I assumed the department would inform me."

"Do you always assume that things are just being handed to you?" His eyes narrow slightly.

"Are you implying that I don't work for what I've earned?"

"I'm saying that you came here unprepared", he says.

"I'm not sure how well I should have prepared to be able to look through boxed files, but you're right, maybe I should have practiced dates a little before coming here or brought my stepping stool for reaching higher places so I don't get killed by a freaking cabinet on the first day."

"Are you mocking important data work?"

"No, I'm just mocking you", you say and lift your chin a little to glare right back at him.

"Rich coming from someone whose life I just saved", he says.

"If you hadn't pushed me, I could have just stepped out of the way."

"Just say thank you, it isn't that hard", he drawls.

"Do you need me to get on my knees for that too?" You snap and your eyes flicker to the muscle in his jaw twitching.

His eyes go impossibly dark and without breaking your glance, he closes the distance between you two, forcing you to lift your head to look up at him. This close you can make out the tiny golden spots that surround his irises and the soft grey streaks that run through his longer than a 5 o'clock shadow on his chin. His eyes graze quickly over your face, stopping ever so slightly on your parted lips. You can't help but wanting them to linger there.

"Careful now, Darlin'", he whispers. "Let's mind our manners."

His chest now faintly grazes your crossed arms and you can make out a hint of his smell, reminding you of a sunset on the porch after a lake day, tranquil, woodsy and so familiar it hurts.

"You're right, I'm sorry - do you need me to get on my knees for that too, sir?"

His jaw tenses and you can almost see the anger building up in his eyes. But you can't help it, you're enjoying pushing him just to see his control falter the slightest bit. He's might be an asshole, but he still makes you want to see what his face looks like on top of yo-

"I advise you to watch that mouth of yours or the only thing you'll be seeing in the future is the outside of this building, do you understand?" He says, not as calmly as before.

"We'll see what the chief has to say about that", you say and hope to whichever god might listen that the eldest Miller brother is even the tiniest bit as receptive to your charm as Tommy is.

The man in front of you lifts his eyebrows as if he has just now finally understood something. "Sure, let's see what he says."

You lean forward a tiny bit and press your arms against his broad chest. Just to annoy him and introduce yourself. "I'm Casey's sister by the way. Tommy's friend?"

The man smiles unnervingly sinister. "Oh, I know exactly who you are."

Another forceful knock on the door makes you leap a step back from him. "Sir?"

He rolls his eyes and calls back. "Yes?"

"We just got a call from the Sheriff's office, they need you on line 4", one of the officers says.

"I'll be right out", he says.

"Thank you, chief", she says and you hear her step away from the door.

Lord almighty, it can't be. No, no, hell no.

The realisation must be written all over your face because his mouth forms into the smallest grin.

"You are-

"Joel Miller, Chief of Police", he introduces himself.

You shake your head in disbelief. This can't be.

"And while you're .. adjusting, why don't you make yourself useful and tidy this up?" He points behind himself at the cabinet and the spilled files on the floor. "From what I've gathered you're probably used to cleaning up your messes."

With that he turns and brushes past me as if he had just stepped in to say 'hello', making his way to the door. Fucking sadist.

You can't even bring yourself to turn your head. Anger and embarrassment crawls all over your skin, rising up to your head. No one has made you feel this way in a long time. You run a hand through your hair and turn towards the files and documents covering the floor. He is even worse than what you've imagined. A shitty boss with an attitude? You've handled that before. But a boss with an attitude, a sharp mouth and a demand for power? That's new. The issue being that not only do you want him to suffer now, but you want to find out what exactly makes this man of stone lose his grip on the control that he so preciously protects.

Come what may, this is going to be a hell of a summer.

[365emotionlessfaces]

Idek what this is. My first posted fic. I’m on a no-sleep, Melissa Schemmenti-fueled gay agenda. I didn’t edit this or anything. Just let the gay brain do what the gay brain gonna do 🤷‍♀️

Better Than Mine?

WC: ~1k

Two veteran teachers walked down the halls of Abbott Elementary, headed for their respective cars to take them to their respective homes. The redhead looks at her work wife incredulously.

“You do not know the owner of Caruso’s!” Barbara Howard only nodded in response. “I’ve been dying to get in there! Kristen Marie says their manicotti’s better ‘an mine! Ain’t no way!”

As they exited the building, they made official plans for lunch the next day. Barb would be taking Melissa to the restaurant that she enjoyed often with her husband, and Melissa would be on a rumor breaking mission.

The day started like any other day for you. Your alarm went off at 7 o’clock, and your cat was on your chest by 7:01. You took a moment to snuggle with him before you hoisted yourself out of bed and into the shower. Remembering that most of your to-do list was comprised of inventory and other various paperwork, you opted for a casual look with a pair of slightly tattered jeans, a red tank top covered by a black flannel, and a pair of sneakers. At 7:43, you were in your car headed to open your restaurant.

The day went by without any major issues. Paperwork was surprisingly easy, and inventory came back almost perfect. You were doing a walkthrough when you received a text from an old teacher asking if there would be a table around lunchtime and if she could bring a friend. You immediately responded in the positive. Ms. Howard had been one of those above and beyond teachers who had helped you realize your passion for cooking, and never let you forget it.

You would do anything for that woman.

When she arrived later that day, the two ladies were sat in a booth almost immediately, much to the surprise of the Italian woman. “You must be somethin’ special ‘round here.” You heard Ms. Howard’s friend say as you approached the table.

“She is,” you said, and the redhead turned to lock eyes with you. It was like staring into pools of emeralds. Her eyes shined back at you and you thought you were going to melt. Regaining your composure, you finished your sentence “-as is anyone who accompanies her.” You very obviously look the woman up and down, your eyes locking into hers once again. She smirked, but before she could say anything, Barbara Howard spoke up.

“Melissa, this is y/n. She was one from my first year teaching. Y/n, this is Miss Melissa Schemmenti. She teaches with me at Abbott.” You never took your eyes off of the enchanting woman in front of you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Schemmenti.”

“Call me Melissa. You’re not one of my students.” Melissa chuckled.

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t make it five minutes in a class without having a big ol’ crush on ya!” You laughed when the woman blushed at your comment. You took the orders of Barbara’s usual, and Melissa’s manicotti, and headed back to the kitchen to prepare their food. When it came to Ms. Howard, you always took pride in being the one to make her food. She was a huge reason you were here, after all.

When you returned with the food, Barbara had a mischievous gleam in her eye that went unnoticed by you and her companion. As you set the food in front of the ladies, she pipes up.

“Melissa was just telling me that her sister comes here now and then, and that your manicotti outshines anything she’s ever tasted, including Melissa’s,” the smirk she wore told Melissa everything she needed to know.

You felt your neck grow warm, and you were sure your face was starting to flush. Flirting with a woman who looked like she could be a goddess hiding amongst us mere mortals? No biggie. Accepting compliments about your cooking? You literally malfunction.

“My sister wouldn’t know good manicotti if it hit ‘er in the face. Maybe I’ll just have to invite you over and teach you how to cook. You’ll have people making reservations for years in advance,” Melissa chuckles as she goes to try the pasta. Had you not been now caught up in your head at the thought of Melissa teaching you how to cook one of her own recipes, your mind imagining her intoxicatingly close, you would have heard the guttural moan escape the redhead’s lips, surprising both her and her coworker.

“Or maybe you can teach me how to cook! Jesus Christ-“ she took another bite, and you snapped back into the reality around you. You watched as the woman closed her eyes to really enjoy the food, and you thought about what you would have to do to see that face all the time. “-this is actually might be better than mine.” She suddenly looked at Ms. Howard with a hard stare. “You tell Kristen Marie, and you’re dead to me.” Barbara raised her hands in innocence, indicating silence on her part.

“Well, I’m glad you like it!” You say, feeling the heat rising up your neck once more. As to try and not say anything embarrassing in front of the most beautiful woman to probably ever exist, you excused yourself and allowed the ladies to finish their lunch together. You sat in your office wondering how this day started so normal, and now you’re imagining a practical stranger’s lips all over you.

A half hour later, when you see that the ladies were finishing up, you brought out their bills-on the house, of course- and invited the ladies back any time they wished. As Melissa was about to protest the free meal, you winked and cut her off by saying, “Guess you’ll have to pay me back somehow.”

Neither of the ladies noticed the note left at the bottom of Melissa’s receipt, and Melissa herself didn’t notice it until she had pulled back into the school parking lot. She smiled and sent out a text before walking back into the halls of Abbott.

You were back in your office, filing the paperwork from earlier when your phone buzzed on the desk. Picking it up, you grinned seeing an address followed by:

Friday. 7:30. I’ll have the stuff to make manicotti. -Melissa

[lunaatthezoo]

New Fic | Tarot & Chocolate

Moodboard made by @ater-love

I have started writing a new fanfic completely based on a headcanon by @ater-love (which you can see in this post) that I am sooooo excited for. It will be another modern AU Elriel fic, but this time magic and powers will play a big role.

This will be a high-tension, very steamy, alternating-POV longfic with a heavy focus on magic. Don't worry, I am going to be updating Sin & Salvation right along with it.

Chapter 1 will be posted soon.

Summary:

There is more than meets the eye in the city of Velaris. Magic lays hidden in plain sight, recognized only by wielders, the rest of the citizens ignorant to the supernatural goings on in the city. 

Elain is a confident magic wielder, using her powers of Sight and earthwork to make a living as a fortune teller, living a simple, peaceful life despite the recent heartbreak she has endured. Azriel is an aloof and emotionally unavailable financial manager at a business firm, adamantly opposed to anything that cannot be unequivocally proven by the scientific method and rational thought. 

But when he meets Elain, Azriel's commitment to rationality begins to fray as she slowly awakens something that has been crawling beneath his skin since childhood. Something he has spent years denying, refusing to remember, refusing to explore. And when Elain meets Azriel, her Sight begins to show her flashes of her past life, a past life where something terrible and tragic happened, and she fears history will repeat itself.

Their immediate and persistent attraction and draw to each other creates turbulence in both of their lives when their heads and their hearts cannot align, and their togetherness forces them both to confront pasts they would rather forget. 

I would just like to add that Azriel is a huge slut like will fuck anything that moves (man, woman, nonbinary person, he doesn't care as long as he can pound them from behind) just to feel less dead inside, and I couldn't find a way to gracefully put this in the summary but it's important to his character and also very very hot.

Thank you so much @ater-love for your brilliant Elain-as-a-fortune-teller headcanon and for letting me bounce ideas and excerpts off you! And for this beautiful moodboard.

Preview below the cut (NSFW warning!):

****Elain is misspelled on purpose, have faith my dears****

Azriel collapsed onto his bed thirty minutes later after having showered, brushed his teeth, and changed his sheets. He may be a piece of shit, but he was a neat piece of shit, and didn't like the idea of sleeping in Mickey-Jason’s cum.  Fuck, he hated himself. Why did he have to be such a goddamn asshole? That was a perfectly nice, very fucking good-looking man who Azriel was sure he would never see again. Especially not after he got his name wrong.  He had been so off his game for the last couple of months. His pattern was the same as it had always been: see a beautiful stranger at the bar, eye fuck them until they approached him, bring them home to his condo, pound the fuck out of them and send them on their way. But he normally wasn't so goddamn removed. Distracted. He sometimes even texted them for a round two another night.  But not since her. Since that one spring night months ago, when he had seen her at Rita’s and thought she was the most beautiful human he had ever encountered. With her dark brown eyes that sparkled like galaxies and her honey-brown hair that hung in whimsical curls over her breasts. Fuck, she had been like nothing he had ever seen.  Elaine. He hadn't been able to remember another person’s name since then. Since he had prowled up to her at the bar, asking if he could buy her a drink. Since they had moved on the dance floor together, her short but curvy frame sucking him in like a fucking black hole. Since he had brought her back to this very room, and had laid her down and fucked her. But no–that wasn't really right. First she had fucked his fingers with her mouth, slowly and sensually, until he was begging her to stop before he came. And then she was grinding on him, both of them still clothed, soaking his thigh through her tights as she rode him. And then she had opened her legs for him and he had feasted on her perfect cunt until she was screaming as he thrusted his fingers inside her while his lips sucked on her clit. And then she had climbed atop him, both of their clothes finally shed, and had fucked herself on his cock hard and fast, until he was moaning as he came inside her.  And he hadn’t fucking given her his number. He had been so absolutely stunned by her, her face and the way she moved and her soft voice and huge eyes and ethereal spirit and god the way she had fucked him, that he hadn’t even remembered to give her his goddamn number. 

[shalottpress]

Trouble the Water Series by @themarydragon

Calm Waters Run Deep and The Quiet River Rages (along with the oneshot Remember the Spring) by @themarydragon are some of the first BotW fanfictions I encountered. The series just encapsulates Zelda’s POV during the series and these stories are cannon to me. I have reread this series multiple times and now can do so with these hardcover beauties.

These binds were heavily inspired by Taylor Swift and I went hard on the 'Zelda's Version' theme. For the covers I used the Midnights album cover as my initial design inspiration with the font and art combinations. For the typeset chapter headings I used the 'Taylors Version' font and line drawings of lilies to evoke silent princesses. I used lyrics from The Prophecy/The Archer for Calm Waters Run Deep as these are very pre-calamity Zelda coded to me, and then Sparks Fly/Peace for The Quiet River Rages as these really aligned with Zelda after she leaves the castle. These came together really beautifully in my mind and I love the final result.

I knew I wanted to do printed covers with art of Zelda on the cover and was looking for ages. The text blocks have been languishing on my shelf waiting for their covers to come since December 2024. When @eerna posted the amazing and thematically perfect before and after art I fell in love with the art and once I had permission to use the art, I couldn't make these covers fast enough. I am so glad I waited to make these covers. (So many thanks to @eerna for letting me use her gorgeous art in my covers once again!)

In terms of mistakes, casing as always was a bit of a nightmare. I had issues with my guillotine when I cut one of the text block slightly on the diagonal, rounded the spine and then had to unround the spine and fix my fuck up which I hope to never have to do again. It was better than printing a new text block but my gosh the stress. I also realised when I was uploading this I have used @themarydragon's Tumblr handle for the cover rather than MaryDragon which is her ao3 handle and used all inside of the books, but at this point I am going to have to live with that mistake!

Huge thanks to @themarydragon for giving me permission to bind these fanfics and to edit my copies to be editions that uses UK spelling!

More pictures and a video below the cut.

[clnriswood]

Bucky Barnes x fem!Sentry

Of Steel & Starlight | Part One

desc: part 1/3 of a minseries wherein fem!sentry rosalie reynolds is recruited into the thunderbolts and supervised by a reluctant and elusive bucky barnes.

a/n: i haven't posted ff in three years what the actual hell, so excuse me if i'm a lil' rusty. but i'm so excited to write these + should have it all up within the week!

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

“Don’t panic.”

“I’m panicking.”

Yelena Belova sat atop her ankles, knees bent before the newest and deadliest addition to the Avengers. Rosalie Renolyds, with her hair the color of the sun and her eyes the color of the ocean, was her Sentry. Yet, despite the official skin-tight yellow suit and heavy blue cape, the superhuman couldn’t have appeared more terrified and vulnerable if she tried. The girl, no older than twenty eight, had scarcely known her new life for three months. Now, under the scrutiny of Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, that life was branded, owned, and under near-constant surveillance.

“No, no,” tsk’ed the widow, tapping her friend’s nose. “We own Valentina,” she rubbed a thumb atop the Sentry’s knee. “Remember that.”

“You own her,” the Sentry said. “I own nothing, not even the stupid suit.”

“It’s not stupid,” chided a voice.

The two girls snapped their heads up to see a classically wound Valentina in their grand foyer, her dark hair curled and manicured nails gripping her newest collection of files. Notably, beside her, was a man Yelena had never seen in her life.

Yelena Belova stood, a hand at her hip in the next second.

“Relax,” Valentina waved off the assassin. “This is a friend of mine.”

“All the more reason,” the Muscovite drew her gun.

“Yelena Belova,” chimed the mystery man. “What an honor it is. Osborn is my name. Norman Osborn. I’m a huge fan of your work here. This New Avengers you’ve built is really something.”

“This is the Osborn industries guy?” Yelena gave a reproachful stare in the direction of her friend.

Rosalie nodded, like she knew him well.

“Me,” the silver-haired entrepreneur raised two hands, his own eyes finding the Sentry. “I assure you it’s my intention to only help. In fact, my services are rarely told no to.”

“No,” answered a gruff voice.

Yelena lowered her weapon. “Good, you do the job then.”

Bucky Barnes, from behind the corporate pair, rounded the corner into the central living space of the Avengers tower. He was, seemingly, freshly showered and not in the mood for any meetings.

“Didn’t tell me we’d be having company,” the Winter Soldier addressed Valentina calmly, as opposed to resorting to murder. “You,” he motioned toward Yelena, “let me deal with this.”

“But—” protested the widow.

“Mr. Osborn,” interjected Valentina. “He’s an ally, here to offer us his services, and at no cost.”

“There’s always a cost,” Bucky answered, taking his place before the blondes.

Yelena, without so much as another word from the brunette, stood. Even she knew better than to cross that icy stare, or the way it glued itself to her Sentry. In the next moment she was gone, leaving Rosalie atop the couch and beneath her superior. For the next few seconds, there was only the shuffle of feet and the pressing silence between the newly-assembled pair.

“Bucky,” spoke the Sentry.

“Reynolds,” he answered, lower.

Bucky Barnes had, with Yelena and the Thunderbolts’ help, saved the new hero from herself, back when she’d first become the Void. While it was the collective who’d come to the rescue, it was the Winter Soldier whose words burned into the Sentry’s mind still.

Nothing matters, she’d told him in that attic.

That’s not true. You do.

She’d reminded Bucky that he had hardly known her for more than a day, but this did nothing to sway him.

I do know you’re not your past. No one knows that better than me. No one. And I’m not going anywhere, so, please… Rosalie…

The girl stared at her own wringing hands in her lap, remembering what it had felt like to have Bucky’s around them. One hand, soft and callous flesh, all warm. The other, cold and jolting and strong. He had touched her wrists, her fingers, the hollow of her cheeks. He had brought her back.

“Since when did I give you the green light to talk to Valentina without my supervision?”

This is what she’d been to Bucky since then, since she’d gotten back: a task. Outside of the New Avengers Initiative she saw little of him, and what smiles she did pry from the grump were short-lived.

“You said I had to learn to better assert my authority,” the Sentry vociferated. She didn’t like when he took that tone with her, or having to crane her neck to get a look at his face when it was upset, which it was most times.

“You know I didn’t mean like this,” he whispered, lowering himself before her as Yelena had.

“Well, you didn’t exactly leave me any examples.”

“Is now not a good time?” Norman interrupted them politely.

“It is,” spoke Rosalie.

“No,” Bucky answered at the same time.

The two faced each other, mirroring one another’s frustration.

“Fine, be insufferable,” Valentina decided aloud, turning on her high heels. “Gala, tonight. Reynolds, I better see you there. Barnes, I really don’t care.”

At the sound of the word ‘gala,’ Bucky’s frown deepened.

“So nice to meet the both of you,” Norman attempted as he followed Fontaine. The man gave a wave which only the Sentry returned, and at the elevator’s ding, vanished.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky spoke as soon as the doors shut.

“Saving our asses,” Rosalie defended. “We have extra terrestrials inbound and no Stark industries to help us anymore. Osborn’s tech could be critical to not just the wellbeing of the planet, but for us. The new initiative.”

“And what do you know about Oscorp?” Bucky tilted his head, long brown locks catching against his fluttering lashes. “Hm? What do you think you know about Norman Osborn?”

“I know he's a living and breathing and well-connected billionaire philanthropist,” she answered. “One who has the money to make us whatever we want. Whatever I want.”

“Or so he says,” Bucky scoffed, rising. He towered over her, apparently too aggravated to even look at her any longer. He flexed a vibranium hand beneath the glittering sun. “That suit and that makeover don’t mean anything.”

There was a pause.

“That’s not what you told me before,” answered the girl darkly.

Guilt crossed Bucky’s face. Then clarity. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that it was you in there that I saw, the real you.”

“So you want me to be that, that thing again? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No,” he faced the window. “But the suit and the look didn’t just put her away,” he explained. “Which is my point. You’re still soft, thinking of the wrong things. Valentina crossed us once, what makes you think she’s changed of her own volition? That billionaire at her side isn’t an invite,” Bucky said, “it’s a threat.”

“What would you know about him then?” she stood.

“I know we don’t need him,” Bucky faced her. “Nothing he could give us could be as strong as you, physically.”

Physically…

“He knows it,” her superior went on. “That’s the trade, the cost. You say yes to Osborn, you leverage yourself in the process.”

“I want to help,” Rosalie neared him.

“No,” Bucky said again, stopping her in her tracks. “That’s final.”

“Buck—” she began. Then, hearing herself, “—y. Bucky.”

Two piercing blue eyes moved across her face, never knowing where to settle. They were full of both tenderness and chagrin alike. “What?”

“Please. Come with me tonight. It’ll be easier, and it’ll look better, the two of us together.”

“You’re not going and neither am I,” he huffed. “And if you really want to help then you’ll stay out of the way.”

...

“So he told you not to go,” Yelena recounted as she and Rosalie neared the gala. “And you ignored him?”

“Right,” said the Sentry.

“Bucky?” Yelena asked, though she knew the answer already. “Bucky Barnes?”

Rosalie stopped atop the staircase, moving her never-sweating hands down the folds of her black dress. There was a long slit across her left leg, and jewels dripped from her neck, down her arms, and into her pinned hair. The opulence she sustained was unnatural and unfamiliar.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

Yelena released one of her Yelena laughs. “Rosalie Reynolds, enjoy your funeral. It was so nice to know you, my friend.”

The two laughed as they entered the establishment. Osborn Industries had cleared its first floor, opening it to candlelit meals and curated displays of its finest technology. The central floor dipped into an almost fishbowl like platform, beneath which one could stare up and into the chasm of the twenty floors above. Currently, the widow and her friend took their places there, feasting on passing platters of shrimp and cheese.

“Miss Belova, Miss Reynolds!”

“Mr. Osborn,” Rosalie said, swallowing down a chunk of bread, brushing the crumbs from her hand, and extending an arm.

Norman shook, unfazed. “I’m delighted you could both make it, I’ve put out some favorites for you all this evening.”

“Saw your microchip trackers,” Yelena jerked a thumb at a nearby liquid display. “Cool. And the spiders, too.”

“Very,” Norman Osborn beamed. “Cool. Miss Reynolds?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I have something I want to show you, Sentry. I think this might help you with those little moods I’ve heard about.”

That was one way to describe her personified depression and the alternate dimension it could suck people into.

“Great,” she said lightheartedly. “What is it?”

“If you come with me—” began Norman.

“She won’t be doing that,” came a voice.

“Bucky,” hissed Rosalie, caught. The Sentry turned, twice as disoriented by the sight of James Buchanan Barnes in a suit than by any exhibit in her radius. He’d combed his long hair back, polished his scuffed shoes, and pressed his dark fabrics perfectly. It was like he knew he’d be coming—because he knew she would.

“Mr. Barnes, a pleasure to see you again,” Norman Osborn reached out a hand.

Bucky met his offer with vibranium, and while he didn’t crunch the man’s bones, he did squeeze in the way he always did with people he didn’t like. It made them have to pretend they weren’t hurting.

“Norman, hello. Congratulations on your success.”

“And on yours,” Norman Osborn said with a glimmering look at Rosalie, who shrunk two steps back.

“I need to speak to my subordinate,” Bucky said.

Not a request, but a command.

“I was—” began the Sentry.

But Bucky had his cold arm on hers, and he was escorting her away whether she liked it or not. Up the stairs they went, leaving Yelena, rounding a corner, and making it all the way to the men’s bathroom on the second floor.

“What is this?” the Winter Soldier asked as the door swung close on them.

It was empty, quiet, save for a dripping faucet. And, while there were nicer places to be than a bathroom, there were also far worse places to be than a billionaire’s bathroom.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” the girl told the mirror in a vague reply.

“What? Do you think this is funny or something?”

“No,” she admitted honestly. “But I can never seem to make you happy, Bucky.”

He was frozen, angry in new ways, somehow. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Like subordinate?” she turned, placing her palms against the sink. “Did I put that in your mouth?”

He tried not to let this bother him. “You seem to forget that you are, by definition.”

“I’m a hundred times stronger than you,” Rosalie snapped.

“You don’t show it,” he scoffed.

Her face reddened.

“Look at you,” he motioned. “You’re not… you don’t beg at the feet of rich men, Reynolds. They should be begging at yours.” Bucky paused. “For the Sentry,” he corrected.

“For my power,” she adjusted. “I get it.”

“Look,” Bucky said, and his voice turned so soft and delicate that she almost forgot to be mad at him. “If I told you that I don’t trust him, would you trust me?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“You don’t know?” he crossed his arms, each word coming more hurt than the last.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” she repeated, straightening. “And how could I? I thought we were a team, I mean, I thought…” she stilled, shaking her head. “I thought you cared more than you did. And maybe that was my mistake.”

A half-confession, but it did damage nonetheless.

“I do care,” he began.

“Just like I do matter?”

Bucky stepped forward, unable to stop himself. “Yes. Yes, Rosalie. Fuck. I don’t have the time for this.”

“You never do.”

“God,” he looked as if he wanted to take a hold of her and shake, but instead he turned, dragging his fingers through his hair. She hadn’t yet seen him like this, jittering with frustration and unable to keep still.

“What?” she dared, stepping nearer. “What is it? Just tell me why you don’t like me anymore, please.”

Bucky couldn’t meet her eyes, though he ran a hand agitatedly over his beard with a laugh that made the Sentry’s stomach spin.

“What?” Rosalie halted, coy now.

He took a step back. “I don’t not like you, alright? Are you kidding me? I’m trying to protect you.”

“For the New Avengers,” she said definitively.

“For—” Bucky moved his fingers nervously over his shielded weapons. “For you. That’s why I won’t let you do this.”

“See,” she raised a finger. “That. There. Won’t let me. Like you decide.”

“Reynolds—” he tried.

“Barnes.”

The Sentry attempted to move past him, and probably could have, but was stopped suddenly by the freeze of Bucky Barnes’ long fingers at her hip, vibranium curled tight against her bare thigh. The sensation itself was enough to stop her dead in her tracks and send an explosion of goosebumps down her legs. Rosalie’s light eyes raised, and she hoped for Bucky to speak because she couldn’t.

“If anything happened to you,” he whispered dangerously.

“It’d destroy the Initiative,” she answered expectantly. “I know.”

“No,” Bucky said, and it was not the no she was used to hearing from him. “It would destroy me.”

She couldn’t help herself. Her eyes were on his pink mouth in the next second, but then Bucky was shaking his head and releasing her before she could consider it any longer.

“Can’t,” he warned quietly.

“Why?” Rosalie croaked gently, feeling stupid at the sound of herself. “Because I’m your… subordinate?”

Bucky released a pained, almost anguished, sound. “That’s just one of many,” he laughed, “many… fuck. Many reasons.”

“Along with what others?”

“No. We should be going,” Bucky decided at once, moving toward the door.

“You’re right,” the Sentry agreed. “Mr. Osborn was actually just about to show me a piece of technology that he thinks can help me.”

A hand came overhead as Rosalie took the knob, the door slamming abruptly shut before her nose. She turned, chest-to-chest with Bucky Barnes. There, he barred her, forcing her eyes up.

“Is this some ploy for attention?” he asked gravely.

“No, but if it was, would it be working?”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, his blue eyes alight with fire. “Rosalie.”

“Buck.”

At this, the door crumpled like paper beneath the clenched fingers of his right hand—not even the metal one. If she turned, she could make out each vein as it ran through the soldier’s arm.

“Why won’t you let yourself care?” she murmured.

This brought him back. “Because,” Bucky said, his arm falling to his side. “Because, that’s just it. I lose everything I care about.”

The Sentry opened her mouth to tell him no, and she wasn’t going anywhere, but an explosion would shake the building before she had the chance. Tearing through the first floor in a rumbling fury of flames, Bucky had only seconds to spare before the world would go black and the girl's life force would, too.

[aftercamlann]

ACBB 10th Anniversary Recs: Evil Overlord, Inc.

Our first rec comes from chaosgenes, shana-rosee & paintedpigeon!

Title: Evil Overlord, Inc. Writer: Footloose Artist: mushroomtale Ship(s): Merlin/Arthur Rating: Mature Word Count: 137,922

Summary: Merlin is a recent graduate with a double doctorate in metaphysics and physics. Arthur is a low-level paper pusher with a desk in the sub-basement of MI5. They live in a world with ridiculous laws and restrictions against anyone who might be supernatural in any way, shape, or design.

Merlin has huge debts looming over this head, a few quid left in his bank account, and no job prospects. Arthur is pushing thirty, in a dead-end job with no chances of promotion to fieldwork agent, and is thoroughly bored with his life.

One ill-advised Craigslist advert, five pushy mates, one nosy all-knowing sister, and a hacked email account later, Merlin and Arthur take the world by storm.

(Or, more precisely, they take over the world.)

Link: FIC & ART: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774844/chapters/26547306

Why chaosgenes recommends this ACBB: Out of the 3-4 ACBBs I've read, this is my fav because it's one of the most unique fics I have ever read and that I still remember even years later. I liked how Arthur and Merlin are older in this one, each facing a career slump, and deciding that the best thing to do is to team-up and threaten their nation. When I recall this fic, it's of Merlin suddenly appearing on the Queen's throne looking every part an intimidating overlord (but we all know he's really sweet at heart and not evil at all). If the word count scares you, at least look at the art as the clothes are stylish and Arthur is in glasses <3 Why shana-rosee recommends this ACBB: When I saw the post asking for Big Bang recs, this was the first fic that came to mind! This story is so funny and charming! Merlin, as the reluctant Overlord, is so funny. I love how the author uses the position to make lasting good in the story. And I love how Arthur worms his way into Evil Inc and Merlin's heart! Why paintedpigeon recommends this ACBB: It's just all-round amazing. Excellent plot, worldbuilding and characterisation, and the writing is amazing. Want to rec an ACBB fic yourself that you feel deserves some more love? Feel free to send us your rec through our 10th Anniversary Rec form!

[dystopianam]

[DOWNLOAD] COLORED CEILING LIGHTS (16 COLORS - 5 DIFFERENT INTENSITIES + INVISIBLE RECOLORS) - UPDATED 07/02/2024

Finally here are the colored lights! I've always loved NL neons, but I've always hated that they were huge and impossible to put in residential lots unless you want to make your home look like a fantasy, alien or futuristic house.

I specify that those who use lighting mod see the intensities from 4 to 5 very bright (like me in the video), but those who do not use lighting mod see the intensities from 4 to 5 as in the video the intensities from 1 to 3 are shown! Intensities 4 to 5 are for those who don't have lighting mods!

EXPLANATIONS AND CREDITS

(Skip it if you want, but it's full of credit for other persons)

For years I looked for invisible recolors of NL neons, or someone who had changed the mesh of these, but I never found anything.

I remember that, perhaps, I had once found an invisible recolor of the round neon lights that you can place on the wall, but honestly that recolor never worked for me ;_:

So I gave up, I lost hope of having some comfortable neon lights that I could put in my house and I went on with my life, until...one day I don't remember what I was doing in game, I took a cc lamp I had and saw that it had a beautiful colored light. I told @jacky93sims "this light is beautiful, but the mesh is huge and impossible to use".

At first, since I just wanted to do something personal, I wanted to change the mesh of that cc, but I had difficulty because I didn't know how to do one thing yet (which I now know how to do). So Jacky said to me "but instead of changing the mesh why don't you take a lamp from the game you like and change the light using the light from this cc?" and she proceeds to send me a tutorial on how to do it. She then added "it's a Nightlife light, it's called [name of light]".

And that's where it all started.

I looked for that lamp in the game, I found it, and it was this one that I asked you about a few days ago.

However, there was a little mystery surrounding it: this neon does not emit light, but both Jacky and I saw blue light. Just me and her. Nobody else.

It was strange. Right now my suspicion is that we probably have a different light from everyone else because we use two lighting mods which, although different, use the same settings for that particular light.

But...Jacky doesn't have NL, yet she saw the RGB color of that NL light, how was that possible? Snooping around a bit in the file, we then discovered that the RGB value was set to emit that particular color. Jacky then understood how to make the RGB codes work on simPe, she explained it to me and out of curiosity I started trying other colors: BINGO! The light could become any color I wanted! And what's even more beautiful? Even Jacky, without having NL could do it! It therefore meant that we could create neons without needing NL and above all... without editing game files.

I was so happy. So to test that light would work for everyone, I sent the light to @simstraffikcone @ash1c , but... it was a fail. It didn't work for them. Right now I thought it was because Traffikcone not have a lighting mod, while Ash has the Maxis Match Lighting mod, which I remember not having that specific NL light with the blue light as Jacky and I see it.

I was confused. I could edit a lot of non-RGB lights and make the colors work on many of them, but no one but me saw those colors when I sent the files. Then Jacky suggested to try using the source of these RGB spotlights... and finally, with this the others were able to see all the colors too!

I hope that the creator of these spotlights doesn't mind that I used the same source, their post is from 18 years ago, the last time they was online was 2021 and they doesn't have a TOU. From the name of the light it seems like a custom light, but not having a custom installation I can't say. This creator is a pro when it comes to editing game lights, I saw them talk about it on some posts on MTS!

In the end, It doesn't matter what kind of light it was, I just needed the RGB values to work.

PROS AND CONS

But at this point you're thinking, looking at they profile on MTS "but sorry, this creator also made RGB ceiling lights, so what are yours for?" and here... comes the part where I explain why my lights exist (don't fall asleep, I'm almost done, I swear)

Its ceiling lights have two requirements that I tried to bypass: you need NL to make them work and to do extra steps, editing game files. Some people are uncomfortable doing these things, others don't have all the expansions!

My lights don't need NL to work and you don't have to do any extra steps, you don't have to edit any of the game files, you just put them in the download folder and play with them.

And why this? Because I don't use the source of their ceiling lights, but that of their spotlights!

But here too you may be wondering...why not use spotlights then? Well...it is a question that includes many factors:

- The spotlights are very nice to use in the garden, but what if you want to use those colored lights indoors? Wouldn't it be strange to have garden lights around the house INSIDE the rooms? I think sims can bypass them, but it's not very aesthetic! With my ceiling lamp not only you not take up space in the house and you can't see it, if you don't want to see it at all you also have the option of making it invisible!

- True, you can mess around with colors to get colors other than red, blue and green, but my lights come with 16 ready colors! So you don't have to bombard an area full of spotlights to form a color! (Mine can mix too btw)

- The spotlights can illuminate a maximum of one or two objects that they point to, this means that to illuminate multiple objects you should use lots of spotlights. My lights on the other hand illuminate practically every object in the room!

- The ONLY con my lights have is that following the light settings of the RGB spotlights, my lights illuminate all objects and sims, but not the walls and floors. This means that you won't always get nice effects, you have to experiment a little. Sometimes rooms that are too empty will have bad effects, it is better to use them on rooms full of objects that reflect light. I tried to solve this problem, but unfortunately I haven't succeeded yet. And this is the same reason why I'm only doing the ceiling version.

I want to point out, however, that I am not discrediting their lights. Indeed, without their work today I couldn't even create these lights! So BIG THANKS to their works! I invite you to also download their (absolutely compatible with mine) They are NOT necessary to make mine work, but if you want to use their too, you can!

Another of the advantages that these lights have is that they work both for those who do not have lighting mods and for those who have them. (Obviously those who have lighting mods have better light and shadow effects, but I can't do nothing about this).

The solution was to create different intensities. People who have lighting mods see lights that basically have low intensity with high intensities. People without a lighting mod see lights with low intensity...well, with very low intensity.

For this reason I made sure that each set of lights has unique guids and that they can all work together. You can put all 5 sets in your download folder, figure out which lights you see best, and delete the ones you don't see well.

I can already tell you that people who don't use lighting mods can use intensities 3 to 5, while those who use lighting mods can use intensities 1 to 3!

So to summarize, the pro of this light are:

Base Game compatible. (You don't need NL!)

Work with and without lighting mods.

5 different intensity which you can choose.

16 ready colors to use.

Invisible recolors for all the 5 sets of intensity.

Ready collection files for all the 5 sets (residential and community lots)

You don't need to edit game files. Installation is simple. Put everything in the download folder and it works. (Everything except the collections you have to put them in the collection(s) folder)

By enabling moveobjects you can put them ANYWHERE, they work both inside and outside the house, and you can use invisible recolors to hide them.

Because they use the light from the RGB spotlights, you can mix colors and sometimes you can create some really cool gradient effects!

They work better with the light off, but even with the light on it has a nice effect because the colors that reflect on the furniture can still be seen.

And the downside...precisely, is only that the walls and the floor don't light up, but I'll see if I can resolve this in the future.

Stop! I'm done torturing you with my chatter! In the download you will find a .rar with all 5 sets + a folder with two collections for every set! (One for community lots and one for residential lots)

Thanks to jgwhiteus for the source of the light, Jacky for explaining how to use the RGB codes on simPE and Ash and Traffikcone for testing the lights for me!

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

(Recommended but not necessary, this rug fix. Game rugs are buggy and don't reflect well the light and the shadows.)

UPDATED (07/02/2024)

They were already clean, I just compressed everything (I had forgotten) and added some merged files (a merged file for each intensity + an all in one with all the intensities divided into 3 merged packages)

[citricacidprince]

I don't know if anyone already asked this question, but I need to get it out of my brain.

What do you imagine a meeting between the Stan twins from your version of Relativity Falls and the original Stan twins would be like? (before or after the Weirdmageddon, although I'm more curious about the after lol)

Oooough the idea of the Relativity Baby Stans meeting the OG Old Men Stans makes me wanna combussssst!!!

The possibilities!!! 💥💥💥

(I’ll be using full names for the OG twins (Stanley & Stanford) and nicknames for the Relativity twins (Lee & Ford) for the sake of consistency lmao)

If it’s pre-Weirdmageddon for both the OG show and Relatively falls I can imagine the Stan’s are having a great time while the Ford’s are also having a kinda fun time but it’s a little…

You see, if you thought Stanford was projecting with Dipper when he was trying to get him to stay in Gravity Falls, you can only IMAGINE how bad it’s gonna get when he meets Ford. Stanford would unintentionally make the Relativity twin’s bond even more strained because he would confirm everything Ford has been told by his teachers and his father, that he needs to be his own person and Lee is holding him back. On the cuter side I like to think Stanley would give Lee a sweet pep talk about not letting anyone push him around or let him feel belittled, then he’d teach Lee how to throw a mean left hook! Who says you can’t be your own father figure, hmm?

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for the OG show but not Relativity Falls, the Stan boys, again, are having a great time, even more-so now that Stanley has this cool Sailor aesthetic going on for him! This time Stanford would very gently tell Ford that he shouldn’t listen to what anyone else says, especially their father. They don’t have anything to prove to anyone. And I think Ford would actually listen if it was Stanford telling him this. After all, who knows you better than yourself?

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for Relativity Falls and not the OG show, good fucking luck separating the Relativity twins! They are attached at the hip and if Stanford ever tried to gently ease them apart Ford just might bite his arm! The entire thing is an extremely sore subject and even though Lee and Stanley are used to mean spirited jabs and back handed compliments, if Stanford even as so grumbles something slightly mean about Stanley or Lee under his breath Ford will not hesitate to explode on him. Lee always has to tell Ford that it’s alright while Stanley can’t help but find their attachment to each other sweet and nostalgic, something he really misses. Stanford can’t understand why Ford seems to be so protective over Lee, 10 times more than he was as a child, and the two refuse to talk about it. (Don’t worry Stanford, you’ll find out soon enough :] )

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for both the OG show and Relativity Falls, then oooooh boy I wanna combust on the spot!!!!

I can so vividly see the older men lighting up at the younger versions of them, nostalgia and ‘Oh man were we really that small?’ running through both their minds as they happily chat with the cute little goobers. Then I can see the horror on Stanley and Stanford’s faces when they realize these two kids had to go through the same twin swap and subsequent mind wipe they had to go through. They’re just little kids, just a little older than Mabel and Dipper, they didn’t deserve that.

When Ford’s hands shake and he can’t stop tears from falling down his round cheeks when he gets flashes to himself holding the memory gun to his brother’s head, Stanley’s the one to gently cover the kid’s polydactyl hands with his own and grumble soft comforting words until the kid is about to fall asleep from how hard he was crying.

When Lee has a huge lapse in memory and takes a while to remember once again, Stanford holds Lee close to his chest and isn’t able to stop silent tears from falling down his face. The silent tears only get worse when Lee, despite not even able to remember who Stanford is at the moment, tries to comfort and wipe away the older man’s tears.

These boys make me soooo ill I wanna combust :]

[amethystheartsx]

GIRLL THEM ACCOMPANYING US FOR FHISE BIG FAT WEDDINGSS

Your wish is my command. (Xavier rafayel zayne) part two soon.

Xavier

Xavier is not a fan of huge events and bustling crowds, he is a sleepy baby who needs a comfortable place to nap from time to time, but he is also aware that sometimes due to certain reasons you simply can not skip these weddings and there is no way in deepest pits of hell he is going to let you go all by yourself looking THAT good.

Xavier would help you choose outfits, he is not that helpful. Not his fault you look pretty in everything to him so he will ne saying yes to every dress you show him.

Guard dog alert.

He simply doesn't mingle with anyone without you, greeting only those whom you greet.

Only time he might leave your side is to get food. That's it.

Or to take nap lol.

You know that one random baby that you find in your room completely knocked out asleep? Yeah that except make it 6'2 fully grown adult man.

Alright! Jokes apart. Xavier is charismatic in natural sort of way. His royal like demeanor makes every one admire him from afar, but passive dissmive face of his keeps everyone at bay, not actively trying to reach out to meet him.

110% percent will co-ordinate with you by demand. His reasoning

"Everyone should know that you and I are together"

Proceeds to be your shadow. Especially while you dance.

Will fix your duppata make sure if you are wearing something floor length it doesn't get stuck anywhere.

Also makes sure no running kids bump in to you.

Prying men off left and right.

Your cousin tries to pass you something, he takes it from the guy and gibes it to you personally, he knows he is gonna get an earful from you. He can handle it.

When its finalllllyyyyyy time to ho home he is going to have his reward for being a good sport.

Rafayel

Excited to attend more then he ever is for his own galas or exhibition.

His claims they are much more vibrant and fun with lively people unlike the boring ones with pretentious people or leeches.

Is more into picking outfits then you.

*cue a glam up montage*

No seriously he is picking out your accessories then making sure his look co-ordinate with yours.

"Now this is what I call a power couple look, I am afraid my bride out shines everyone"

He beams with pride seeing you mingle like hell yeah that girl is mine MF. Kisses you in not so secret, he will ne so pink each time, people will know what happened

Unless he finds the uncle and aunty you hated because they were toxic and problematic. Then its.on.sight!

*cue you dragging his sassy ass away*

Partakes in every traditional activity, thoroughly enjoys it with those whom you love and adore. I have mentioned it in my previous HC post that he deeply cherishes it. Is curious about the back story behind most of them.

Catch him listening to the lore and history behind the cultures from one of your older relatives.

Will find a secure spot layer for you and him to unravel after getting drained out of social battery.

Doesn't dance himself but will be at a safe distance watching you before eventually giving in and join you as well.

Uh oh somebody handed him a mic!

Prepare for the performance of a lifetime. Remember he is a siren.

No but seriously he sings so well AMD then blushes when get praised by your family.

If he catches some people gibing you two odd looks he would lean I to say things like.

"Maybe you should do that round chilli thing for evil eye."

You have no idea who told him that but now he won't stop till you do that so he can rest easy.

No evil eye is gonna cause you AMD him problem nu huh.

Zayne

Somewhere in between rafayel and Xavier, he doesn't like noisy places much but will admit Desi weddings have certain charms.

When you are getting dressed he will pointed out pros and some of things you lay out in front of him, giving you a better idea of to go with.

His hand was going for a black shirt but the moment he seed you giving him death glare from behind he gulps and pick a maroon shirt instead. Now you are back to your princess self tehehe.

Also a shadow.

Like for real you are not going to have one on one conversation with anybody, he can't help it. You look so good he just needs to be close for no other reason then maybe because he cherishes every single second, and he'd rather not be anywhere else if he can't be with you.

Zayne will make sure you eat right, that you are hydrated.

Will carry your heels and best believe he kept a pair of fuzzy slippers knowing damn well you'd need them later.

Things get steamy on the way back tho.

Again, don't blame him. You were looking too good and yes he is a composed and well mannered person but he is also a man and you are *his* girl. He is allowed to show you just how crazy you drive him.

_________________________________________

[maniculum]

Bread for a Wit-Sick Man

When recording the podcast today, we read a bit from the Old English Leechbook, as we often do. And today we read a remedy for a "wit sick man" that suggested (in addition to other things) feeding him "hallowed bread and cheese and garlic and cropleek". I thought that sounded pretty good, so after recording I decided to pop by the grocery store and give my complete lack of cooking skill a try. (No hallowing involved.)

I will now record my experience.

Step One

Purchase the following with an eye to your budget:

sliced french bread (store brand)

three green onions ("cropleek" is a pretty broad term, and since I could find neither leeks nor shallots, I figured this was close enough; there are three of them because they come in bundles of three.)

one bulb of garlic

wedge of brie (half-price because it expires tomorrow)

Step Two

Slice all three onions and the whole bulb of garlic because you don't cook that much and you don't trust yourself to use this stuff up later if you don't use it all now.

Step Three

Decide this dish would probably be better warm and preheat the oven to 400F because that seems like a reasonable (and round) number. Get a baking sheet. Spread brie on slices of bread until there's no room on the baking sheet for more.

Step Four

Look at the eight slices of bread on your baking sheet, realizing how small your only baking sheet is. Put way too much onion and garlic on each slice in a doomed attempt to use it all.

Step Five

Half-remember something about how restaurant food is supposedly better because they put ridiculous amounts of butter on everything. Maybe this will save you. Consider that you should have added the butter before the leeks & garlic. Shrug and put a slice of butter on top of each bread-slice anyway, balancing it on the leeks.

Step Six

Realize everything is going to fall off of these slices as soon as you pick them up, and cover them in an excessive quantity of shredded cheese in the hopes that the cheese, when melted, will glue everything down like on a pizza.

Step Seven

Vacillate between cooking for 10 minutes and 15 minutes because you have no idea what reasonable cooking times are but it doesn't seem like it should take a hugely long time to warm the bread and melt the cheese. Decide to split the difference with 12 minutes.

Step Eight

Post on Tumblr while your creation cooks and then subsequently cools.