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seitmai · 1 year ago

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"Yeah, but my nephew will think it's funny, and that's almost enough motivation for me to do it."

Molly and Everett's bond is just so amazing🥰 I laughed so hard at the Disney World part 😅

Then Bob noticed the ridiculous grin on Everett's face where he sat perched on Bradley's lap. "I got a new dad. I'm getting my very own cousin, and even an Uncle Bob!" "You're living your best life, my man," Molly told him. "It's like you planned this all out."

Maybe he did plan it all out? 🤔 Alexa play Mastermind by Taylor Swift

"I'll be with you the whole time," he whispered, kissing her cheek. He was over prepared. He knew that. But he'd been sending Molly around everywhere with her hospital bag which he had packed for her, and it was currently tucked behind the driver's seat. She was as ready as she was going to be whether she wanted to admit it or not.

🥹🥹🥹

It was serene. Peaceful. Really one of the loveliest things Bob had ever seen. And he was currently interrupting it by pushing Molly through as she moaned the f-word so loud and so long that nearly everyone was turning to look.

This is just so Molly, I wouldn't expect anything less haha

"I hope you're happy, Bob," she growled, eyes flashing. "Your monster cock did this to me. Lulled me into a false sense of sexual bliss. And then your filthy mega sperm took over, and finished the job."

Hahahaha I can't 😂😂😂 the hospital staff and therefore Molly's co-workers next to them like: 🧍‍♂️🧍🏻‍♀️🧍

Bob would never pressure her to have another child with him. He hadn't really expected to get this lucky in life, let alone feel bold enough to hope for anything more. But that little gap gave him butterflies. Charlie was the sweetest baby in the world, and Bob was obsessed with being a dad. It was his favorite thing. And he wouldn't hesitate to list the condo and find a bigger place if Molly wanted to do this all over again. "You just let me know."

😭🥰😭🥰

I can't believe this is over 😭

Thank you so much for this series, since it started it became quickly one of my favorite series on here ever 🫶🏻👏🏻 and I'm still madly in love with Bob AND Molly lol

The Curveball Part 13 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Molly didn't think life with Bob could get any better. Then their son arrives, and she's proven wrong yet again. She doesn't know what the future holds, but she knows that she wants her family with her for every adventure. And that starts with a trip down a grassy path through some wildflowers.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swears, pregnancy, smut, 18+

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

With the number of times Bob had to field the question, "So how did you and Molly get engaged?" you would have thought he could answer it by now without blushing. But he couldn't. Not even close.

The only ones who knew what really happened were Nat, Bradley and Molly's sister. Nat kept calling Molly 'a goddamn legend'. Bradley cringed. And Molly's sister just said, "Yeah, that tracks."

But Molly kept those pretty Mrs. Floyd nipple piercings in for him, and he loved her even more for it. Her belly had gotten so big by Valentine's Day, he didn't know how she'd make it all the way to her due date in another four weeks. She looked absolutely exhausted after every shift in the emergency room, and more often than not, she ended up falling asleep on the couch with him after dinner while they watched a murder documentary.

"Mo," he whispered on Friday night after she fell asleep mostly on top of him on the couch, his big hand splayed over her belly. His son was squirming a bit as he stroked her soft skin. She was incredible. His Molly. They hadn't decided exactly when they were going to get married, but she kept talking about wildflower meadows. So he agreed to wait until the summer, after the baby was born.

He had to whisper her name a few times before she jolted awake. "Hmm?" she moaned. "Bobby, I was in the middle of a delicious nap." He kissed her lips when she pouted at him.

"Let's get in bed, Honey," he said softly, pulling her shirt down over her belly. "We have to babysit Ev tomorrow so your sister and Bradley can go out for Valentine's Day."

She smirked at him. "They like to do dirty shit in the Bronco."

Bob just shrugged. "We do dirty stuff in my truck all the time."

She moaned softly as she said, "We sure do, Lieutenant Floyd." Bob's eyes slowly closed as Molly's hand skimmed down his abs and into the waistband on his underwear. "Dirty stuff everywhere. Anything my fiancé wants."

Bob grunted as her small hand wrapped around his cock, and her lips grazed his stubbled jaw. He was getting harder as she stroked him slowly, tongue darting out to taste his neck. "Molly," he moaned, bucking up into her hand as she teased his tip. But she just hummed against him as she jerked him off. And then her hand slowly came to a stop until she was just softly cupping his balls.

And then he heard her soft, even breathing next to his ear, and Bob couldn't help but laugh. She actually fell asleep while she was giving him a handjob. Bob thought for a moment that maybe a less secure man would be insulted, and maybe that's what Molly was used to in the past, but he knew she was beyond tired right now.

He kissed her forehead and gently eased her hand back out from his underwear. "It's bedtime," he whispered, and she jolted awake again.

"No," she said, shaking her head and trying to reach for his cock.

"Yes," he replied with a chuckle as he slid out from under her without being too rough with her bump. "Come on, and I'll rub your back until you fall asleep in bed."

"Mmkay," she agreed, bleary eyed as Bob led her to their bedroom. He helped her get undressed, kneeling in front of her and placing some gentle kisses to her belly like he did every night.

"I love you," he whispered as Molly ran her fingers through his hair. The nightly conversations with his son were something he was definitely going to keep doing after the baby was born. "I can't wait to meet you. We just finished getting your nursery ready. I hope you like baseball, because your Uncle Bradley and I went a little nuts in there."

"That's an understatement," Molly whispered. "They went flipping bananas."

Bob cupped her pretty belly with both of his hands and smiled. "Mommy's right. We did go overboard."

He watched Molly yawn before she said, "It's okay. Everett and Piper will teach him all about baseball." And then she kept yawning, so Bob got her settled into bed with a pillow tucked against her belly. He set his glasses on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. And then he climbed in behind her as the big spoon and kissed the engagement ring she was wearing.

"You wanna talk about baby names?" he asked, rubbing his hand along her side, because he knew it would make her sleepy.

"I only like a handful of names," she replied, and Bob could hear the pout in her voice even though the room was dark.

"Come on, Mo. Literally anything except Everett. Your sister will never forgive you."

"Yeah, but my nephew will think it's funny, and that's almost enough motivation for me to do it."

Bob groaned. "What's your second favorite name?"

It took Molly a few moments, but eventually she said, "I want to name him after you."

"Robert Junior?" he said, already shaking his head. "RJ?" He didn't like it at all.

"No. Your middle name. We can call him Charlie," she mumbled, obviously dozing off.

Now Bob smiled as he kissed his sleeping fiancee on the shoulder. "Charlie Floyd."

-----------------------------

Since it wasn't a leap year, Molly knew Bob wasn't really getting a birthday. "Still only eight years old," she told him on February twenty eighth. She was straddling his lap on the couch, but her belly was fucking enormous now and always in the way. He didn't seem to mind though as he gently held her and cradled her and the baby. She kissed down his cheek until she got to his lips. "You look terrible for your age."

Bob burst out laughing. "Thanks, Honey. Hoping the kid gets your genetics."

"Call him by his name," she whispered.

"Charlie," Bob said with a smile. There was no room left for Charlie to move around too much, but he always seemed to know when Bob was nearby. He was currently squirming so much, Molly was getting heartburn.

"He just wants his daddy all the time," she said, running her hands slowly over Bob's chest. "I want his daddy all the time, too."

"Yeah?" Bob asked cautiously. It was really difficult to fuck now. Molly was always uncomfortable. But she knew Bob was never going to rush her. So they spent about five minutes getting her propped up on the couch with throw pillows.

"This is a lot of work for you to get some birthday sex, Bobby," she crooned as his erection bumped her repeatedly in the leg while he made sure she was comfortable.

"It's worth it," he replied as he sank into her warm pussy.

"Oh, yeah... definitely worth it," she agreed, rocking back gently to meet his slow thrusts. It was unhurried and perfect, and Bob's big hands wrapped around to her belly made her feel safe.

But later that evening, she knew she had to do something she really didn't want to do. "Bob, it's time," she said solemnly as she stood with her jewelry box in both hands.

"I understand," he whispered, taking it from her and sitting down on their bed. He sighed sadly and watched her pull her shirt over her head followed by her sports bra. And then the pretty Mrs. Floyd piercings had to come out. She almost laughed at the sad look on his face as she put them in her jewelry box and closed the lid.

"They'll be back. I promise."

"I know," he whispered, kissing along both of her breasts and nuzzling her with his nose. She felt like she looked all swollen and misshapen, but he didn't seem to mind as he kissed her everywhere.

-------------------------

"You can't be serious right now," Molly groaned the following night as she nibbled on some pizza. Everyone was out for Bob's fake birthday at the usual restaurant. "You're going to Disney World? Without me?!" she asked Everett.

Bob tried not to laugh as his soon to be nephew looked genuinely upset. "Mom, can we bring Aunt Molly with us?" he whispered.

But Molly just laughed and kissed him. "No, this vacation is for you and your parents. Besides, the baby will be too young this summer. I'll come next time."

"How much longer until the baby comes?" Everett asked her looking at her belly hopefully. "This is taking forever."

"Hopefully just a few more days," Bob supplied, offering Molly more pizza. But she hadn't even finished one slice yet, just sipping some apple juice instead.

"No," she told him. "I don't feel great today."

Then Bob noticed the ridiculous grin on Everett's face where he sat perched on Bradley's lap. "I got a new dad. I'm getting my very own cousin, and even an Uncle Bob!"

"You're living your best life, my man," Molly told him. "It's like you planned this all out."

But she really didn't look comfortable at all, and Bob knew she was struggling with fatigue now. So he kissed her cheek, insisted on paying for dinner, and started to herd everyone outside. As soon as he opened the passenger side door of his truck and tried to help her in, she started shaking her head.

"I'm going to throw up," she insisted and started heading for some of the shrubs along the side of the parking lot. "Oh. Oh no."

But she didn't throw up. Her water broke. Bob froze as Molly turned to look at him as she started crying. "I just peed," she whispered.

Then his adrenaline kicked in fully, and he closed the distance to her. "Honey, I think your water broke," he said gently, and she gasped, panic all over her face.

"No," she said, shaking her head more. "I'm not ready."

"I don't think we have much choice," he told her carefully as he guided her back to the truck. Her sister had already left with Bradley and Everett, so he would have to call them once they got to the hospital. But he needed to focus on this first, because Molly was starting to lose it.

"I can't do this. I can't!" she nearly screamed, fighting him as he tried to get her into the truck. Her pink leggings were all wet, and she was scrambling in every direction seemingly at the same time. "I don't want to," she informed him, eyes wide and unsure.

Once he was finally pulling out of the parking lot with Molly successfully buckled in, Bob felt the panic as well, but he tried to keep his cool. Then suddenly Molly clutched at her belly and loudly groaned, "Shit."

"What?!"

"Is that a contraction?" she asked, gripping at the door handle. "Shit! Fucking hurts!"

When they finally got to the hospital, things had gotten worse. He took her in through the emergency room since that was where she worked. Everyone ran out to watch Bob wheel her inside in a wheelchair. She was gripping the arms and looking back up at him like he was absolutely ruining her day by bringing her here.

"Molly's here!" one of her coworkers yelled.

Molly responded by crying and shouting, "Fuck!" But nobody seemed to think this was unexpected. They just helped Bob along to the elevator and opened all of the necessary doors to get her to the labor and delivery area.

"Thanks," he told them as another nurse let him know he could take Molly into room two. There were new mothers and nurses pushing bassinets around. It was serene. Peaceful. Really one of the loveliest things Bob had ever seen. And he was currently interrupting it by pushing Molly through as she moaned the f-word so loud and so long that nearly everyone was turning to look.

"It's okay, Honey," he promised as he got her into room number two.

"No, Bob!" she shouted. "It is fucking not okay! I feel like I pissed myself. I look like I pissed myself. And Charlie fucking hates me, because it hurts so much!"

She was doubled over, holding her belly. The pain on her face as she had a contraction made Bob reach for her instantly. A tear slid down her cheek, and she whimpered. And then the obscenities flowed.

Bob tried to apologize to all of the nurses as Molly called them 'fucking assfucks', but they didn't seem to mind at all. He did however close the door as her contractions got closer together.

Hours later, after he had called his mom and Molly's sister and told them what was going on, Bob was exhausted. But he knew Molly was much worse off in that department. She was soaked with sweat and was currently glaring at him.

She looked like she wanted to hurt him, and he had to try very hard not to laugh as he held her hand. "I'm sorry, Mo. I'll never do it again," he promised.

Then she started crying. "You'll never fuck me again?"

"That's not what I meant!" he said quickly, but she was already in tears. And she said the word 'cuntbag' so many times in a row while she pushed that he lost count.

"I see the baby," the doctor finally announced after what seemed like days.

"Get it out! Get it fucking out!" Molly screamed, and Bob felt like screaming too. She had such a tight grip on his fingers, he was sure she cracked some bones.

But when she looked at him, clearly scared, he kissed her sweaty forehead and told her he had never been more impressed by anyone in his entire life. And it was the truth. She looked like she was on the verge of passing out when the doctor announced that it was in fact a boy and gave the time of birth. After Charlie was measured and weighed, one of the nurses placed him in Molly's arms.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, carefully holding him against her chest with one arm and stroking his cheek with her fingers. "I don't know what to do." But her gaze was transfixed on their son, and her lips were softly parted in wonder. Bob could already tell that Charlie was the perfect baby. Little puckered lips and eyes that were fighting to stay open against the bright overhead lights.

"Oh my god," Bob whispered, leaning down to kiss his son. "Molly. He's actually perfect."

Her fingers stroked along his soft skin while Bob held onto one tiny fist. "He actually is."

---------------------------

The only problem with the next few months was that they flew by. All of Bob's aviator friends had covered the pickup truck in yellow and black BABY ON BOARD signs the day they took Charlie home from the hospital. Molly thought it was hilarious, but Bob grumbled as he removed all of them.

To Molly's extreme annoyance, Charlie seemed to prefer Bradley over all of their other visitors. Everett was overjoyed every time he got to sit with the baby, and her sister was already helping Molly with literally everything under the sun. But it was Bradley who was able to calm Charlie down and get him to fall asleep on his chest.

"I'm the baby whisperer," he informed everyone every time he had the opportunity.

"You're Uncle Turd," Molly told him, but Bradley just smiled at her. She couldn't be too mean, because she needed his help. He was the one who was supposed to be distracting Bob for an entire day while Molly got her wedding gift for him finished.

She wasn't sure what the two men were going to do after the batting cages, but Molly didn't really care. She had approximately seven hours from the time she dropped Charlie off with her sister to the time she had to be back home. The wedding was in a week, the bodice of her dress was sheer lace, and she wanted the tattoo to be perfect.

After she told her tattoo artist the exact placement she wanted and the colors to use, she sat back in the chair in her bra with her arm over her head. Molly looked down at the stretch marks on her still puffy belly. Instead of talking to Charlie there every night, Bob sat in the nursery for fifteen minutes and chatted while he rocked him to sleep. And then he did any number of sweet or dirty things to her before they fell asleep together for a few precious hours until the baby woke them up.

But Bob never once made her feel like her weird looking belly was an issue for him. And when she brought it up one night with tears threatening behind her eyes, he told her she was more beautiful than anything he could have ever dreamed up. And Bob never lied.

"All finished," the artist said, wiping along her skin with a towel one last time and handing her a mirror.

A big, bold violet. A beautiful, blooming daffodil. And even a small pink rosebud. Bob, Charlie and Bradley. "Looks great."

----------------------------

As soon as Molly showed Bob her tattoo, he wrapped her up in his arms. "Gorgeous, Honey," he said, kissing her before examining it a little closer. He ran his fingers along the colorful carnations that were there for her mom and dad, and when he got to the daffodil that she got for Charlier, his fingers froze. There was a small gap between his flower and their son's flower, and when he looked up at Molly she was smiling. "Is it finished now?" he asked cautiously.

She just shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

"I will, Coach Cute Daddy."

Bob held her close, knowing they needed to get ready for bed soon. Charlie was still notorious for waking them up at three in the morning to eat, even though he was four months old. Molly kept saying he would probably grow out of it soon, but Bob figured his son loved them so much, he wanted them in the nursery with him.

"Are you ready for Saturday?" he asked, taking his glasses off as Molly climbed into bed.

"Are you asking if I'm ready for the dream wedding that I've spent months planning out? Then yes, I'm ready. All you have to do is show up with the baby, agree to marry me, kiss me, and fuck me. Not all in the wildflower meadow."

Bob kissed along her shoulder as she fell asleep. Molly made him laugh more than he ever had before. And Charlie made him smile more than he ever had before. And by Saturday evening, he'd be married.

----------------------

"I can't believe my wild child of a baby sister is getting married today."

Molly sighed contentedly and said, "To Bob Floyd. The sweet, shy man of my dreams."

Her sister laughed and added, "I don't think Bob was planning on anything like you happening to him."

Molly scoffed as she picked up her bouquet made entirely of gas station flowers. "Anything like me? You mean getting his world rocked and having a kid after being together less than a year? He's lucky."

"He is," she agreed, kissing Molly's cheek. "Now please explain to me why you are getting married with these cheap flowers when there's literally an entire meadow of multicolored poppies and zinnias growing outside?"

Molly pressed her nose to them. "Because Bob picked them up for me last night, and they're my favorite. The other flowers can learn some respect."

"If you say so," she replied, taking Molly by the hand. "As soon as I can give you away, you are one hundred percent Bob's problem." But she was holding tight to Molly's hand, and it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

Molly walked outside with her sister and started down the grassy path toward the spot where Bob was holding Charlie in the distance. "I will never stop being your problem. And Bradley's problem by proximity."

"Good," her sister whispered, and Molly smiled at her as she cried a little bit. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And then they walked toward the setting sun past the most beautiful shades of orange, green and yellow Molly could imagine. And it probably wasn't like other weddings, but the best ones weren't.

They stopped so Molly could give hugs and kisses to Bob's parents and the rest of his family. And they stopped so she could get a kiss on the forehead from Bradley. "Love you, turd," she whispered.

"Hey," he said in his raspy voice as she kissed Everett. "You owe me forever for agreeing to coach tee ball with Bob."

"And you owe me forever for letting you marry my sister," she replied easily.

He just nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. We're square."

Molly was laughing as she handed her gas station flowers off to Nat with a hug, and then she was standing in front of Bob and Charlie.

"Hey, Honey," Bob whispered as she took Charlie from his hands so she could hold him for a bit while he napped. She kissed his soft chubby cheek, and his eyes fluttered open before closing again.

Then she met Bob's greenish blue eyes, and he was looking at her like that very first day at tee ball, over a year ago. Like he couldn't believe she was giving him the time of day. She took a step closer to him, and said, "Hey, Coach Cute Glasses. Did you remember your allergy pills?"

"A double dose," he promised. "You ready to marry me?"

"Yes."

Molly held Charlie, and Bob wrapped his strong arm around her waist as they turned toward the sunset. The wedding was short, led by John who married her sister and Bradley last September. And as Molly closed her eyes and kissed Bob at the end of the ceremony, the warmth of the summer evening and the scent of wildflowers washed over her.

The soft nudge of Bob's glasses against her cheek and the way he helped cradle Charlie had Molly leaning in for another kiss. Maybe it would be just the three of them, maybe not. But Molly wanted to take her family on every adventure with her.

"I love you, Cowboy Bob."

Bob smiled and kissed her softly before pressing his lip to Charlie's forehead. "I love you both."

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Ahhhh! Thanks for joining Molly, Bob and CHARLIE on this little adventure! I'm sure they will have so many more together. You can always peep more details about them if you read Batting Practice (and maybe some future one-shots)! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing.

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mayhemproduces · 1 year ago

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Can you tell me the way the story ends?

This story started in 2016, when a much younger Riley first encountered Sister Abigail, when Abigail just became The Matriarch we know today. Long black and red hair with a violent streak to match, but just as sinister and calculated. Without a group backing her, Abigail was on the hunt for her first protege - and that’s when she met Riley. Abigail has made it her personal mission ever since to recruit Riley and groom her to be the successor of Abigail’s kingdom. The first time, Abigail couldn’t keep Riley under her thumb, and ANarChY kicked her straight out of Stardom. Abigail never forgot. Abigail never forgets. Riley eventually came to America in 2018, and went on to beat Abigail three times. Once Mayhem opened its doors, Abigail and Riley were reunited in the first show, The Blacklist, taking on future stablemates Bray Wyatt and Alexa Bliss in a winning effort. Six months later, Riley had gone on to win the first Femme Fatales tournament, becoming the first ever Fatales Champion, and her first Pay Per View defense came against her old mentor, and Riley beat her again. We thought, or hoped, that would be the end of it, but Abigail wasn’t comfortable with letting things be. Nobody has a record like that against The Devil and lives to tell the tale - and Abigail still wanted her successor. She slowly poisoned Riley, sending out Brody King to be her personal bodyguard, having Brody inject toxic thoughts into her head, until Malakai Black injected the dark poison into her heart, and the Riley we grew to love was lost to the darkness.

Until last week.

To say Abigail is unhinged right now is an understatement. She claims she’s never been so in control, but Abigail isn’t thinking with a clear head. Every failure feels like a personal attack on her, as if those losses were her own fault. If Riley couldn’t pull her weight, then Abigail couldn’t let her stay.

The very moment the collars are locked, Riley’s on Abigail, tackling her out to the floor! They’re brawling on the floor, the animosity pulling them back in the ring. Riley ducks a lariat, and nails Abigail with a forearm! Abigail throws one back, the brawl continuing from the floor and into the ring. It’s not wise of Riley to try and out strike Abigail here. The once dominant champion ruled with an iron fist due to not only The Fallen, but the power The Devil possesses. Proven as Riley can’t keep up with Abigail, and gets laid out long enough for Abigail to dig for weapons in a nearby trash can, yanking on the chain and dragging Riley as needed. The length of the chain gives her enough room to pull out a long length of barbed wire and slides into the ring with it, but Riley has since recovered. She and Abigail fight over the wire until Riley takes it, and grinds it against Abigail’s forehead, cutting her open! As Abigail bleeds, Riley wraps the coil around her foot. Wrists clutched, Riley wants those Danielson style stomps, but they don’t seem to be affecting Abigail the way she wants. Abigail stands up against the stomps, blood swimming down between her eyes with a sick grin on her face, before she nails Riley with a headbutt. Abigail stands, nailing Riley with a quick rolling elbow, and knocking her loopy. Abigail finds another coil of barbed wire and wraps it around her fist, the barbs sticking into her glove, before she straddles Riley, and rains down punches with the barbed wire-laden fist. The barbs pierce Riley until she bleeds, and Abigail decides to transition into a triangle choke. She reaches into her trunks - and pulls out a fork?!

Keeping Riley in place with the triangle choke, Abigail drives the tongs of her purple fork over and over again into Riley’s head, drawing out even more blood as she tears at the wounds created by the barbed wire. With crimson flowing down her own face, Abigail tosses the bloodied fork and her bloodied opponent to the side to sit up, spreading her arms with a sick, twisted smirk on her face, as the entire Hammerstein lets her have it, booing the leader of The Fallen. This is Abigail’s home, surrounded by pain, misery, and brutality. Abigail chuckles to herself as she rolls out of the ring, pulling on the chain so she can look under the ring, and pull out a steel chair wrapped in even more barbed wire. She slides back inside the ring and rears back the chair, before doming Riley with it so hard the barbed wire sticks to her HEAD! Abigail leans back, watching her with a twisted glee, before she grabs the chair and rips it off, an immediate puddle of blood gushing down Riley’s face to the horror, and immense delight, of the Hammerstein Ballroom. Riley slumps over, bloody face against the mat, as Abigail does a little hardcore feng shui, putting two chairs back to back and setting a coil of barbed wire on top. She turns back around and picks Riley up - but Riley jumps on her back! She has the Sleeper locked in! With all the blood loss she just suffered, one has to wonder how much strength she can even put behind it. Even worse, she might’ve just played right into Abigail’s plan, as Abigail backs them up into the corner, those chairs sitting right in front of them, and breaks the Sleeper by slamming Riley back against the turnbuckles. Riley immediately releases, slumped against the ropes, as Abigail climbs up them and begins raining down punches, her fist still wrapped in barbed wire. She punches down over and over, before leaning down and biting Riley’s wound! As she’s bitten, Riley reaches up and grabs the back of Abigail’s head, and tucks it against the top turnbuckle. Riley slips out, and nails her with a superkick, hitting her right on the chin! Abigail slumps, rocked by that kick, while Riley makes her way out to the apron. She grabs the top rope and jumps up, steadying herself with it, before she leaps off and twists, capturing Abigail by the head, and tossing her with a Poison Rana?! Abigail lands one of the seats of the chairs, and gets a chest full of barbed wire! Holy shit, how the hell did she even do that?!

As Abigail pulls the barbed wire out of her skin and top, Riley readjusts the barbed wire she wrapped around her leg and raises it up to her knee. She sizes Abigail up, and delivers a barbed wire-assisted 360 Codebreaker! This may be a hardcore match, but Riley’s digging down into her lucha-inspired playbook to inflict as much damage as possible to try and survive tonight. But at some point, she has to do something bigger, and looks to do so as she crawls out of the ring, pulling on the chain as she ducks down. She pulls out two chairs, setting them up on the floor, as Jason Ayers slides out to assist, already getting the memo. Riley digs underneath the ring, and pulls out a thick sheet of glass. With Ayers help, she rests the glass pane across the two chairs, creating a terrifying crash pad for someone tonight, we’ll just have to watch and see which one of them it will be. Satisfied, Riley rolls back inside the ring, and immediately eats a Psychosis! Now it’s Abigail’s turn to go to the floor, and she pulls out a couple of light tube bundles. If Riley wants to up the violence, wants to introduce glass into this, then Abigail is more than happy to oblige. This is a woman who was electrocuted on top of the Cage of Death, and still won the match, after all. Back inside the ring, Abigail chooses one light tube and kicks the bundles aside. She pulls it back, and swings at Riley’s head. Instinctively putting her hands up, the glass shatters into Riley’s hands! That’s GOT to hurt! Riley screams out in pain, holding her hand, while Abigail gets the extra length of their chain and pools it at her feet. She nails Riley with a decisive kick to the face, before lifting her up, and dropping her head-first onto the chains with a Piledriver! With all the punishment Riley’s already endured, it’s best for her to take this mercy and stay down, Abigail covers!

1… 2… Kickout!

Riley kicks out at two! Abigail immediately grabs Riley’s legs and flips her over, tying them into a deathlock position, and tying them together with the chain, before applying a deathlock STF! Abigail has it locked in tight, and the ropes won’t help Riley break free of Abigail’s torturous grasp tonight, she’ll have to find her own way out. And at least, it looks like she’ll try to, as Riley starts to crawl forward. With all of Abigail’s weight on her back, it’s a mighty task for anybody, let alone someone of Riley’s size, but she’s determined to crawl towards… something. Her eyes zeroed in on something in the distance - when she wraps a hand around a light tube. She uses her right hand to flip Abigail off, before using the left and smacking her in the side of the head with the light tube! A shower of glass explodes against Abigail’s head, and she has to release the STF! Riley quickly rolls away, the blood loss still making her loopy, but she goes for the barbed wire chair, wanting to give Abigail a taste of her own medicine - but Abigail steps on the injured hand! She kicks the barbed wire chair aside, out of Riley’s grasp, but Riley still stands and tries to hit Abigail with Tenseiga. Abigail reverses, swinging her back the other direction and into the Wrath of the Gods, but Riley wiggles out! She lands on her feet, and nails Abigail with a jumping bicycle knee strike! The shot spins Abigail around, and Riley jumps up, and spikes Abigail with a poison rana, dropping her right on the barbed wire chair! Riley falls back against the ropes, buying herself some time as Abigail has to detach her hair from the barbed wire.

Riley pushes off the ropes and into Abigail, nailing her with a hard kick to the chest. Abigail grimaces, but powers back with an overhand chop. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes throughout the Hammerstein, and Riley nearly goes down from the shot. She stumbles back, but comes back with an uppercut. Abigail stands her ground and grabs the back of Riley’s head, nailing her with a series of quick forearms, before hitting one stiff one that has her rocking back. Riley drops to the mat… and hits a forward roll cutter! Abigail’s dropped on her face, and Riley bounces on her feet, the crowd behind her, as she nails Abigail with the 720 kick to the back of the head! She’s feeding off the crowd as she runs the ropes, but Abigail ducks to the floor. Riley simply redirects, setting to fly - but she’s caught with a light tube to the head! The glass cutting her open even further, the crimson mask of Ishimori spreading down her torso and the back of her head, while Abigail looks at the bloody remains of her light tube, and licks it. A sick laugh spills out of Abigail before she breaks the remains against her own skull. A loose glass shard is picked up off the ground as Abigail slides into the ring, and grinds the shattered shard into Riley’s head, splitting her open even more. If Abigail keeps it up, Riley won’t be getting a stretcher tonight, she’s going straight to the morgue.

“Look at what you’ve made me do,” Abigail growls at Riley, digging the glass into her head, “Why couldn’t you just listen to me? Huh? Why did you have to do this to me?” Throwing the shard aside, Abigail sinks her teeth into Riley’s wound, biting her again. When she pulls back, she drags Riley behind her, yanking on the chain before she picks Riley up and sets her on the top rope. Abigail herself moves out to the apron, and climbs up the ropes. She looks behind herself, that glass pane bridged between two chairs still lingering behind her. The crowd knows where this is going as Abigail jumps to the top rope and grabs Riley, flinging them back with a HUGE avalanche Spanish Fly, putting them both through the glass pane! Holy shit! The Hammerstein jumps to their feet, and Abigail jumps to hers! Tugging on the chain, she gets Riley back inside the ring, holding her down to the mat to end this!

1…

2…

KICKOUT!

WHAT?!?!

The Ballroom can’t believe it, Ayers can’t believe it, and Abigail is PISSED! She gets in Ayers’s face, berating him and arguing he made the count wrong, that HAD to be it! But Ayers stands firm with the facts. Somehow, that was only two. Abigail hasn’t put this one to bed yet, and she’s starting to wonder exactly what it’s going to take to win tonight, or if this will end just like the rest of their meetings. With Abigail on her back, staring up at the lights, duped once again. Just the mere thought of it enrages her more, as she tries to intimidate Jason into changing the decision, but he can’t. No matter how much she tries to force it, it ain’t happening. But it gives Riley time to recover. She starts to wrap the dog collar chain around her arm, and once it’s wrapped tight, she yanks on the chain. Abigail spins around, and gets decked by a clothesline! It wasn’t pretty, but it was effective, and Riley sets up for a springboard. She twists before jumping off the ropes, going for a Dragonrana, but before she can finish it, Abigail pulls her back up. She raises the tights, and drives Riley through the mat with the Last Hour! She rolls Ishimori back to her hands and knees, kicks a light tube bundle under her, and drives her face into it with Starfall! Riley’s dead on her feet as Abigail pulls her up, and locks her in Hail the Reaper. She falls back, locking in the body scissors, but Riley is so bloody she’s slippery. Abigail tries to adjust, but the more she does, the more she loses her grip, until Riley’s able to get her feet under her. She rolls back out of it, but almost immediately collapses, the blood loss and the choke taking the rest of her energy. Abigail bars her teeth as she stands, wrapping the chain around her fist. She sizes Riley up - but Riley pulls the chain! Abigail loses her balance and stumbles right into a rocket kick! Riley nearly decapitates her!

Riley stumbles back, holding her neck as she looks at Abigail. You have to imagine somewhere, deep down, Riley has to have some kind of love for Abigail. It can’t be healthy, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Such is the way with Abigail’s complicated, twisted relationships. But that love may be all dried up now as Riley takes the chain and wraps it around Abigail’s throat, pulling back and trying to choke the life out of her. But Abigail smiles. It grows wider the more Riley pulls back, like she wanted Riley to kill her right here, in front of all these people. Prove her right. Prove that she’s every bit of a monster as Abigail. Until Riley lets go. She throws Abigail to the side and grabs a light tube. Twirling it in her hand as Abigail sits up. Her face already bloodied. Her back bloodied, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Riley’s. Coated in her own crimson, but Riley stands over Abigail, just like every other night. She glares down at Abigail, and shatters the light tube against her head. The glass and poisonous gas shower Abigail, ripping even more skin from her head, drawing out more of her blood, but Abigail barely budges. She looks up at Riley through a curtain of blood, and tells her, “Do it. Finish me,” Abigail begs, “Save me.”

Riley turns her back and jumps on the ropes, wanting to springboard - but Abigail shoves her over the ropes, hanging her by the collar! Riley kicks and struggles, but Abigail pulls back, getting an even better angle. Jason Ayers keeps checking with Riley, worry written all over his face, as Riley still struggles, trying to get her feet on the apron, on something, to get her some leverage to try and get out of this. But her face is turning an ugly shade of red until her crimson mask. She’s losing consciousness - and she taps! It’s over!

“Here is your winner, SISTER ABIGAIL!”

Even as the bell frantically rings behind them, calling off the match, Abigail doesn’t let go. She keeps pulling on the chain, intent on choking Riley out past the point of consciousness, and she may be getting her wish. The tapping stops as Riley starts to pass out…

When Matsumoto grabs the chain! They slid into the ring behind Abigail, and pulled on the chain. Abigail’s eyes go wide, before her head gets taken off by an End of Everything from VIOLET! Matsumoto pulls Riley into the ring as Jason Ayers unlocks the dog collars. Abigail rolls out of the ring, thwarted tonight, as Riley shoves Matsumoto. Not very well, but the effort is the same. She locks eyes with VIOLET, who offers Riley a towel and some water. She stares at it, holding her bruised neck, before her eyes roll back, and she falls forward. The blood loss is too much, and VIOLET catches her. She holds Riley up for Matsumoto to take, carrying their former friend to the back to get some much needed medical attention.

#match

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rickygoldman34 · 2 years ago

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Hello everyone Ricky Goldman here.

Its WWE Royal Rumble 2023 live from the Alamodome in San Antonio,Texas. Looks to be a packed out crowd.

The 1st mstch is the men's Royal Rumble match. Pat Mcafee returned and is on commentary. Gunther is number 1, Sheamus is number 2, both men with heavy shots to each other and try to eliminate each. The Miz comes in at number 3. Both Gunther and Sheamus destroy Miz as Kofi Kingston comes in at number 4. Johnny Gargano is in at number 5. Sheamus beats down The Miz with 10 beats of the borin. Sheamus eliminated Miz as Xaiver Woods as in at number 6. Kofi and Xaiver act as they are going to fight but dont. Karrion Kross is coming in at number 7. Chad Gable in at number 8 followed Drew McIntyre in at number 9. Drew eliminates Karrion. Santos Escobar is in at number 10. Angelo Dawkins is number 11. Gunther eliminates Woods. Brock Lesnar is number 12 and takes everyone to suplex city then eliminated Santos,Chad and Drew. Gunther and Lesnar have a stare down as Bobby is number 13 and he does eliminate Brock who is pissed off at destroyed everything and everyone. Baron Corbin is number 14 as Seth Rollins is number 15 and he eliminates Corbin. Otis is number 16. Seth eliminates Bobby. Rey Mysterio was meant to number 17 but didn't come out. Number 18 is Dominick Mysterio who is wearing Rey's mask. Otis got eliminated.Elias in at number 19. Finn Balor in at number 20. Booker T is number 21. Damian Priest is number 22. Montez Ford entry number 23 but got eliminated by Damian. Judgement Day dominant and Edge comes in at number 24. He clears house and spears everyone before eliminating Finn,Damian and Dominick. They then work together to help eliminate Edge. They then destroy him on the ramp way as Beth Phoenix comes out and spears Rhea. Austin Theory is number 25, Omos at number 26, Braun Strowman in at number 27 who eliminated Omos. Ricochet in at number 28. Gunther eliminates Drew and Sheamus. Logan Paul in at number 29. Cody Rhodes is number 30 and he looks in incredible shape. Logan and Ricochet with a top rope cross body to each other. Braun and then Theory followed by Ricochet. Its down to 3. Gunther has broken the Rumble time record. Logan eliminates Seth we forgot about him. Its how definitely down to 3. Cody eliminates Logan its down to 2. Cody and Gunther remain as Gunther beats down Cody with chops and a super plex. Cody battles back. Gunther fights back with a power bomb. Cody is back up,hits Cross Rhodes on Gunther and eliminates him to win the Royal Rumble match.

Next up we got La knight vs Bray Wyatt in the pitch black match. The lights went out,lots of neon lights came on,Bray is wearing glow in the dark paint as he takes it to Knight. Action spills to the outside as Knight fights back but not for long as Bray sends him crashing through the announce table. Then back in and Knight puts a tool box into the ring. Knight comes off the top rope with a glow in the dark kendo stick but Bray hits a sister Abigail on Knight to put him away for the win. Bray then chases Knight up the ramp,hooked on a mandible claw,Uncle Howdy then leapt from off the top ofa trust with the Firefly Fun house puppets looking on. Pyro and fire went off.

Next is Bianca Belair vs Alexa Bliss for the Raw womens title. Bianca took it to Bliss tp the challenger soon got back in it trying to make the champion tap multiple times. This match didn't last long at all. Bianca battles back,hits a KOD and retains the Raw womens title.

On next is the womens Royal Rumble match Rhea Ripley is number 1,Liv Morgan is number 2,Dana Brooke number 3,Emma is number 4,Shayna Baszler in at number 5, Bayley is number 6,B-Fab is number 7 and gets eliminated by Rhea. Roxanne Perez is number 8,Dakota Kai is number 9. Iyo Sky is number 10. Dana,Emma and Roxanne eliminated. Natalya is back and is number 11. Candice Lerae is number 12. Damage Control eliminate Shayna and Natalya. Zoey Stark in at number 13. Xia Li in at number 14. Candice eliminated by Damage Control.Becky Lynch is 15 as Damage Control takes her out the ring. Tegan Nox is number 16. Auska in at number 18 she eliminates Tegan. Doudrop is back as Piper Niven at number 18. Tamina is number 19. Chelsea Green at number 20 and is quickly eliminated by Rhea. Dakota and Iyo eliminatied by Becky. Bayley eliminates Becky and vice versa. Zelina Vega is number 21. Raquel Rodriguez is number 22. Mia Yim number 23. Lacey Evans in at number 24. Michelle Mccool in at number 25. Indi Hartwell is number 26. Sonya Deville in at number 27. Shotzi in at number 28. Nikki Cross is number 29 and the returning Nia Jax is number 30. Many people get eliminated. Liv,Auska and Rhea remain. All 3 women on the ring apron,Auska spits the mist meant for Rhea but Rhea ducks and Liv gets the mist in her face. Rhea then eliminated Auska,Liv tries to hold on but nope Rhea eliminates her to win the Royal Rumble match.

#wrestling #royal rumble

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weheartbliss · 8 years ago

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leiamorgainedelalunewriter · 2 years ago

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The Reckoning

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark’s Daughter OC

A Dark AU Fic

Chapter 5

Author's Note

This chapter contains explicit sexual content including dirty thoughts, dirty talk, fingering, touching, PIV sex, unprotected sex, etc. as well as other mature content. Here's your warning. This story is only going to get more mature. I highly suggest minors DNI. The italic lyric sections are from the song posted at the beginning of the chapter. You can also get the song info from the playlist. - Leia

Come cover me with you

For the thrill

till you will take me in

Come comfort me in you

Young love must

Live twice only for us

Alexa awoke feeling herself cocooned in the warmth of a pair strong arms. She was still laying on a very muscular chest. She looked up to see Steve's blue eyes looking back at her. She felt a little sore from the sex and knew it was normal. However, the rest of what she was feeling was still like a blissful high. She smiled as she snuggled into him. Steve was bringing her nothing but pure happiness. He was giving her hope for so many things she use to not have any for at all, like the existence of real love. She felt him kiss her forehead and her smile grew bigger. She'd never felt so happy in her life.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said softly.

"Good morning," she responded with a smile.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Best sleep ever. You?"

"I can definitely say the same."

He leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was lingering and passionate as used his arms to pull her completely on top of him. Their lips stayed locked together as the kiss deepened. She wanted more. She was naked and ready to be touched. This was worse than a craving. It was a need. She reached a hand down and began to gently strike the shaft of his semi-erect member causing him to half growl as he broke the kiss.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?" Steve asked her.

"I do," She answered with a smirk. "I need you, Steve."

"Fuck, Alexa!"

She released his now hard cock as she placed her hands in his shoulders. He used one of his hands to first check to see if she was wet enough to take him. He had barely touched her and she was already drenched. It was going to take every ounce of control he had to not fuck her into oblivion. He had his other hand on her hip while he moved the one to guide his cock into her dripping heat. She let out a pleasure filled cry from her lips as she spread her legs out further to completely straddle him before shifting her body so that she was just slightly upright. She moaned again, this time it was a little more breathy as he now had a hand on each of her hips. He barely had to move to be fully sheathed inside of her tight, slick pussy and it felt like heaven on earth to him. The way she cried out when he thrust into her drove him crazy. She had told him that she needed him. Why did he have a feeling he'd made Alexa into an insatiable little succubus?

"Steve..." she half whispered as she rocked her hips against him. "God don't stop!"

He thrust himself up into her, "Oh, Alexa, you have surprised me."

"Fuck! Your cock is like a drug."

"You're my drug, sweetheart."

"Please don't stop!"

"Your wish is my command, baby."

He continued to thrust upwards into her as she kept grinding her hips against his with each thrust. He had both hands gripping her hips firmly. She was crying out loudly, making it known just how good he was making her feel, right before she leaned down and kissing him. The kiss was needy, hungry, and one that drove him further into his current desire for her. What was she doing to him?

"Are you wanting me to fuck you, Alexa?" He questioned as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Yes I am, Steve," She purred into his ear. "I want you to fuck me all day long."

"Then we are barely going to leave this bed today."

"Good because I'm addicted to this and you."

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how hooked I am to everything about you."

"Fuck, Steve! Oh god please don't stop because you're making me feel so fucking good!"

He caressed her face with one of his hands as he had not stopped his hard thrusting into her, "I don't plan on it. Fuck! Alexa, do you know how good you make me feel?"

Alexa cried out, a scream of pleasure as she kept grinding her hips against him. Her desire for him was near animalistic, just as his was for her. They couldn't stop. Between kisses the two of them for moaning and breathing heavily as their movements didn't cease. Steve's needed for her body was just as great and desperate as hers for him. They weren't going to be able to stay away from each other at all, not ever. The touch, the contact, the sex, all of it was now like a requirement for survival for them both.

Natasha walked into Sam's room and turned on the light without warning. She'd already sent Bucky to the kitchen for coffee and the remainder of the beignets after they discovered Steve wasn't home. She was certain she knew where he was but needed Sam to give her that confirmation, since he was the only one that could. Clint was already in the study working like nothing was going on, which was all too typical of him. This was why he ran things when Steve wasn't available. He was the responsible one. What was she doing? Her usual chore is babysitting Sam and her husband since they both refuse to completely grow up. She found it irritating but clearly must have accepted it since she did marry Bucky.

"Wake up and get your ass out of bed, Sam!" She half shouted. "Be in the study in fifteen minutes. I told Bucky to bring coffee and the rest of the beignets."

"Damn, woman!" Sam exclaimed in response. "Can't I sleep?"

"Not when Steve mysteriously disappears."

"Oh hell! He went to her place after he had me take her home. That dumbass!"

She put her face into her hands. She knew it! She knew him too well. This means he also slept with her. He never listens!

"We all told him not to think with his dick," She muttered.

"He doesn't listen," Sam remarked in response.

"I know that!"

"Leave my room, Natasha, so I can get dressed."

"Barton's here so hurry up if you want food."

"Shit!"

Natasha left Sam's room laughing and made her way back to the study where she found Clint sitting behind Steve's desk doing paperwork and Bucky sitting in his usual spot in the sofa eating a beignet. Bucky handed her a mug with coffee in it, fixed just the way she liked. She took the mug from her husband, flashes him a smile, and took a sip of the hot liquid. Clint finally looked up from his task and the look on his face was one of irritation. Natasha wasn't sure if it was the paperwork or something else.

"Is he getting his ass up?" Bucky asked about Sam.

"He'll be in here shortly," Nat answered. "What's wrong, Clint? The look on your face says a lot. Is it Steve, Sam, or something else?"

"A combination of I'm being honest," Clint responded. "Do you know where Steve is?"

"We had a feeling when we found him gone this morning," Bucky replied. "Just don't know for sure."

"Sam pretty much confirmed it," Nat added. "He's certain Steve went to her place after he had him take her home, and in all honesty, it makes sense."

"That stupid punk."

Bucky laughed as he shook his head. He wasn't sure if he should be disappointed or proud. Natasha took her seat next to him as they both observed a very confused Clint. It was then they realized he didn't have a lot of details about Alexa yet or Steve's date with her, if any at all.

"Wait a minute. Who is she?" Clint inquired.

"Oh, right!" Bucky realized as he and Nat laughed slightly. "We need to fill you in. Steve met Alexandra Stark earlier this week and they flirted. Then, last night he had her here for a dinner date."

"Did you just say Alexandra Stark?"

"Yes he did," Nat smirked. "She goes by Alexa and is really quite something."

"He went to her place? He's with her?"

"Oh he has to be," Sam said as he walked into the room and sat down in his usual seat. "They'd obviously been messing around when he came to get me to take her home."

"Oh I need details!" Nat practically commanded in an almost eager tone.

"Of course you do, Natasha."

"Steve won't give me any!"

"She's right, Wilson," Bucky stated. "Now talk."

"Steve was only wearing his pants," Sam began to divulge. "Alexa no longer had in lipstick though it was on his lips and her hair was unpinned."

"That's the look of we didn't have sex, but we definitely did more than make out," Clint proclaimed as they were all trying not to laugh.

"Well he was gone when I got back."

"Oh yeah he went there. Stark is so going to flip out when he discovers Steve is fucking his daughter."

"She's not a fan of her Dad, Clint," Nat revealed. "As stupid as this may have been on Steve's part, I've seen the way they look at each other."

"This could still start a war despite what she wants. Tony Stark is a ruthless man with no principles."

"And if Steve has feelings for her then we go to war."

"I've always told him that I'm with him until the end of the line," Bucky affirmed. "This is no different."

"She's obviously feeling the same for him. I'm behind this," Sam chimed in. "Especially if she's got no true loyalty to her dad."

"Then I look forward to meeting her," Clint commented. "It sounds like he may have found the best thing for him."

"I couldn't agree more," Nat concurred as she began to serve the beignets. "What else is going on, Clint?"

Before Clint could answer, the phone on the desk started to ring. He looked at the ID to see it was a Los Angeles phone number. That means one thing and one thing only, that it was speaking of the devil himself, Tony Stark. He groaned loudly and motioned for Natasha to come over there as the phone continues to ring. She quickly walked over behind the desk and stood next to Clint by the phone, with one arm on his shoulder. She took one look at the number on the ID and rolled her eyes.

"Answer it on speaker," she directed. "Let's see what this asshole wants."

Clint pressed the button for the speaker phone and spoke, "Rogers, Inc., this is Barton."

"Hello, Barton," came the voice of Tony Stark, one they were all too familiar with. "Is your boss available?"

"Steve happens to be unavailable right now, Stark. How can I help you?"

"Can you ask him to give me a call?"

"What do you want, Stark?" Natasha asked in an almost forceful tone. "Is it so important that you must talk to Steve?"

"Oh, Natasha, my favorite Russian beauty. I never thought you'd speak."

"Cut the crap and answer me."

"And stop trying to flirt with my wife!" Bucky exclaimed, making sure his tone came off as a threat.

"Nice to hear your voice, Barnes," Tony remarked sarcastically. "My daughter, Alexandra, moved to Manhattan a week ago..."

"Good for her to get away from you," Natasha interrupted, causing both Sam and Bucky to have to stifle laughter.

"She's there for school, despite it not being to study what I had preferred for her and no other reason."

"And you want to speak to Steve because?" Clint inquired.

"To make sure Rogers stays away from her."

Natasha started laughing, "You need to get a grip on your control issues, Stark, and besides Steve's got a girl."

"Well, in that case, I wish him luck and all that good stuff."

The phone suddenly disconnected and the room filled with their laughter. They'd gotten Tony Stark to wish Steve well in his relationship that was with his own daughter. Natasha was notoriously good at pulling plays like this but they all had to admit that this was her best one yet. When the truth about Steve and Alexa did come out, things were going to get interesting for all of them.

Alexa and Steve had barely left her bed all day. They'd order take out to be delivered, enjoying the food break between rounds of sex and power naps. They truly couldn't keep their hands off of each other. They had, also, spent time talking and getting to know each other more. Alexa laid in Steve's arms and felt happier than she'd ever felt in her life. It wasn't just the way he touched her. It was the way he listened to her. It was the way he looked at her as they talked. She could tell he was truly listening to every word she spoken this was something Alexa wasn't used to, having someone who truly care about her thoughts and feelings. She spent much of her life alone and when her Dad was around, it was never because he cared for her. No, her Dad just cares about controlling her and Pepper was basically his minion. Rhodey was basically her rock growing up and she met Wanda at school. These feelings she had now, as she lay curled up in Steve's arms, were something brand new to her but all she wanted to do was explore them more. She kisses him softly as he felt herself getting lost in his kid eyes again. It was something more than happy, more than safe she felt felt as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Alexa just wasn't sure if she was ready to name this feeling yet.

Steve stopped counting after round three. They truly were addicted to each other almost instantly. It wasn't just something about her physically that drew him to Alexa. She has a beautiful soul. Her heart and mind amazed him. As they talked and she revealed things about her past, it only made him hold her closer. Damn Tony Stark for all of the pain he had caused her. She'd been neglected instead of loved. Steve vowed then that he would make sure that Alexa never felt like that again. She deserved to feel loved because that's what she was worthy of, being loved. He'd never felt like this, felt so deeply for anyone until she came into his life. Steve wasn't sure what this was but he wanted to delve further into this relationship. He wanted to never let her go as he sweetly kissed her lips again. He was now determined to do more than make her happy. He wanted to help her heal her scars and see her never hurt again. Was he falling in love with her already? If he was, then he knew he was truly doing it for the first time in his life.

"Sweetheart, what do you think of getting a shower and going to my place?" He inquired.

"I like that idea," She answered. "Do you want me to stay the night?"

"Do you want to?"

"I'm a little spoiled to this already."

"I think I'm going to enjoy spoiling you even more, Alexa."

"Oh, Steve! Don't threaten a girl with a good time."

They both began to laugh with their happiness evident in their eyes and faces. Whatever was happening between them was completely real.

"You can bring some things to leave there so always have something there," he said softly.

"You're saying that like I'll be there a lot," she quickly replied.

"Well, I'd be shocked if you're not."

"I get this feeling that if I'm not there that you'll be here. In that case, you can leave some things here so you're not resorting to wandering around naked."

"I thought you didn't mind."

"I don't, Steve. I just have a best friend with a tendency to show up unannounced and I much prefer it if Wanda never sees you naked."

"Ok. I get your point. I wouldn't want Sam or Bucky to see you naked either."

"Bucky would send his wife into the room first to make sure I'm decent."

Steve laughed at how quickly Alexa had figured out Bucky and Natasha. It could become obvious very quickly that nothing and no one scared Bucky more than his wife.

"You caught into that quickly," he noted still laughing.

"She also has a reputation," Alexa giggled. "My Uncle Rhodey thoroughly enjoyed telling me about her rejecting my Dad."

"We all wish we had that on video because it was amazing to witness."

"I do really like her."

"She's a great person and friend."

"Steve, I love the idea about keeping things at your place."

"I'll keep some here too."

"And, I'd love to go back to your place."

"So, shower?"

"Are you going to teach me what shower sex is like?"

"Sweetheart, I'll teach you about anything that relates to pleasure and your body that you want to learn.”

"Then teach me, Steve. I'm your willing student."

"Oh, Alexa, if you only knew what all you do to me."

For me

For you

Time devours passion's beauty

With me

With you

In war for the love of you

Tonight any dream will do

Author's Note

I'm so sorry this took so long! Chapter 6 is written just have to get it snapped. Tony has appeared via phone. What's in store next? Stay tuned! - Leia

Read more by visiting my main Masterlist or the Steve Rogers Masterlist

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years ago

Note

🛀🐎🍷 with Raymond

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

..................................................

Trouble Bath

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, giving Ray a blowjob while you’re sitting in a bathtub Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: 🛀🐎🍷 (key words are in bold)

A hot bath is the answer to all of life’s troubles.

Of this you’re convinced as you soak in the tub with a glass of merlot, candles set on the ledge to suffuse the whole room with a soft golden glow. All your worries dissolve as you bask in the bliss of the bubbles.

That’s when your damn phone rings. You figure it has to be work ‘cause at this hour only your bitch of a boss would be bothering you with ‘incredibly important things.’ Fucking hell. With a loud groan you reach your sud-slathered arm out of the water and dry off your palm on the towel nearby before grabbing your cell.

You don’t bother to check who it is, just assuming it’s business, as you place the phone on the tub ledge and set it to speaker to answer the call. But it isn’t the boss bitch at all.

Well, it is a boss bitch—it just isn’t the boss of your office. Instead it’s the blonde bearded bitch who runs gangster shit all across London and shows everyone who the boss is. The bastard who happens to be just as flawless as he is lawless. You’re a close friend of his, though you’d rather be more to be honest.

Raymond Smith doesn’t know this. You’ve given him hints for fuck’s sake. But he’s too busy buried balls-deep in his own OCD ass to notice. You recently stopped dropping hints when you sensed that a chance at your ass wasn’t something he wanted to take.

At the sound of his voice you just sip at the dark scarlet wine in your glass. Trying not to be bitter that Raymond wants nothing to do with your ass. It’s a good fucking wine, but compared to his gorgeousness nothing seems fine.

Ray just called to ‘check in’ which is absolute crap. Total bullshit. He knows you had made plans for dinner with some random dick from a dating app. Knows this because he was there in the room when you scheduled it.

“I thought you had a date,” Raymond states.

The audacity?! Where is he going with this exactly... “Maybe I’m running late.”

“Or you cancelled on him. Perhaps deep down you know you don’t want him.”

Your jaw drops in shock. Just a little ashamed that you wish he were here to stuff it with his cock. “Y–you know nothing of what I want.”

“I know more than you think,” he says it like a taunt, like he knows he’s a whole fucking kink, and that shit hits you right in the cunt. Rub your eyes with a blink. This is so troubling. Set your wineglass down on the tub ledge with a clink. Craving something quite different to drink.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at—”

“Invite me in and we’ll see about that.”

“Invite…?”

“I’m at your front door and I know where you keep the spare key so just say the damn word and I’m coming inside.”

When Ray Smith requests entry he’s never denied. You tell him that you’re in the bathroom and ten seconds later he’s standing right there, slaying you with the blue of his stare. He says something about how he just kept imagining you out with some other man tonight. Says it just didn’t sit right. Says he’s tried to hold off for the sake of your friendship but now his desire for you has hit heights he can’t fight.

You can’t even remember just what you said next but your words clearly give him a very green light. Next thing you know he’s freeing his cock from his jeans and you die at the sight.

“… Ray, you’re hung like a horse.”

And he knows it of course. All the lust he spent so long suppressing now radiates off him with force. “If you want this it’s all fucking yours.”

***************

You’ve never wanted anything more.

Started salivating like a goddamn madwoman the second he stepped through the door—or before—when he called you the rasp of his voice summoned your inner whore.

Before that even, honestly. Just at the thought of this man you’re on fire beyond believing. Constantly. For so long you and Raymond had been thick as thieves. And you are still, but you need him so bad it kills, and his big dick is thicker than thieves or whatever you figure as he stands beside the bathtub with his meat hanging out, right in front of your mouth, and slowly and deliberately rolls up his sleeves.

Fucking rolls up his sleeves. As if this is a task that he takes very seriously. You don’t doubt that it is really. You’re just as serious too about taking in what you’re about to receive.

You shift clumsily till you’re kneeling in the tub, water sloshing around as your torso lifts up. Tits still partially covered in soapy white bubbles but Ray can see more than enough. At the sight he licks his lips and growls low and rough. It’s a faint sound because he’s too much of a gentleman to be a bona fide beast, but with you here the least gentle facet of him is released, and it’s savage and tough.

Icy gaze pierces straight through the suds. Fierce enough to draw blood. Yet it’s soft and controlled; he’s a man who knows well how to manage the power he holds. Turns his gaze to your open mouth drooling so desperately his dick might drown in the flood. “Such a good little slut.”

Hoooly fuck…

He twines one of his hands in your semi-damp hair, as the other grabs onto his shaft that’s so big it’s not fair, and guides it toward the gaping wide hole that exists just to suck.

Flick your tongue in a fluttering lick first. Swipe over the tip, to lap up the sweet dewdrop that drips, taste the flavor that satisfies your every thirst. Your cunt throbs underwater and already feels like it’s going to burst.

“Mmm, that’s it love,” Ray hums in approval while towering so tall above. “Show me how much you love it. All of it.”

Your sorry attempt at a yes sir is muffled by his massive meat, as you instantly take his cock so deep you’re destined to swallow it. Open your whole throat and hollow it. Swell of desire inside you keeps building in frantic heat. Heart hammering at a spastic beat. All you can do now is follow it.

There are no words for just how good he tastes, as his cock slides across your slick tongue while he grabs a firm hold of your skull to start fucking your filthy whore face. So delicious. Your loving eyes roll back in bliss. Lashes batting in ecstasy as he pumps deeper past your lips and picks up the pace. He knows you live for this. Now that he finally has you he gets off on knowing you’re his.

From the moment Ray called you tonight, as if he had a right, you really should’ve known he spelled trouble. The troubles you seek to escape when you’re bathing in bubbles.

But here with his dominant presence demanding you worship his dick which is so damn divine… trouble’s honestly just fucking fine. You would much rather guzzle his cum than a bottle of wine.

And he knows it. He always knew it. Fought against going down the steep slippery slope of this path, but at last now he chose it, and once he’s done filling your throat up he’ll slip with you into the bath. Wash away all your trouble then take you to bed where he’ll fuck you right through it. Just the way only Ray Smith—the boss bitch of London who finally has you as his good little cockslut to play with—can do it.

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aworldinsideaperson · 4 years ago

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A Well Kept Secret - George Weasley (Part One)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Food mentions, talking about food, one night stand (no smut) having a child, getting pregnant, being pregnant,

Summary: A one night stand with George produces a child and a secret.

Trope Series: Secret baby.

A/N: This one is going to be in two parts (possibly three we will have to see) but I just started writing this last night and couldn’t stop so here it is.

@izzytheninja @youto-believein

It was a chilly evening in the Fall of 1997 when it all started, two lifelong friends meet in a London pub for a drink or two to take the edge off of their worries and fears as war wages around them. A red haired man sat beside a girl He’d known for the last nine years, they were nearly three drinks deep as their fingers brushed. With a soft intake of breath they looked to each other, her eyes wide as she stared up at him; his eyes had trained on hers as his tongue slid over his lips then dropped to her parted lips. That’s when he knew it was over and his life would never be the same. Little did he know how one night of pure bliss with his schoolyard crush would change both their lives in the ways that it did.

It was only one night. It was only supposed to be one night no matter the feeling that had arisen as they kissed on her bed that night and whispered “I love you” in the dark. The world was far too dangerous to start anything more than that one night and so they kept it at that though it was hardly a surprise to anyone when their glances to each other were lingering or their goodbyes just a touch too long. It was eight weeks before Y/N realized something was off.

The missed period. That’s what did it for her. The most obvious of symptoms but now as she looked down at the stick waiting for an answer things fell into place. She was sick to her stomach so often her diet consisted mostly of crackers the last week, she was exhausted though she had chalked it up to the stress of the current situations the suddenness of it started to make sense. Her mind ran through a checklist of symptoms her mother had claimed during her second pregnancy and with each check mark left her mind became more certain and as the timer went off and her eyes focused on the results she wasn’t as shocked as she should have been.

She was having George Weasley’s baby.

With a hand pressed to her stomach her mind raced. The Weasley family were targets, and England wasn’t safe. So with a single letter owled to her parents Y/N was packing her bags and was off to the states.

She settled into a small town in Missouri. Hermann, population now 2,401 with one on the way. With her life’s savings she paid cash from a tiny shack of a house in the center of town and tried to live her muggle life. At only 19 she was receiving dirty and pitying looks alike as he stomach started to grow beneath her waitress uniform.

At 29 weeks pregnant she received the news, a letter from her parents proclaiming the fall of Voldemort and the end of the war, they begged her to come home. As she looked down at her swollen stomach she hesitated and wrote them a single word response. No.

She had planned to return to London, her home for her whole life, but fear continued to stop her. Voldemort was gone, the Weasley family had lived, George had lived, her family was safe, but the thought of showing up so many months later after no words to George frightened her beyond any unforgivable curse. And so she did it alone. She gave birth to their son alone. She held a first birthday alone, and then a second, and a third all alone. Each year as his birthday drew to a close Y/N wondered if she should write to George, if she should tell him of their son, tell him about his big brown eyes and thick red hair; to tell him of all the mischief their three year old caused. And every year she remembered that it was meant to only be one night. The night had been filled with passion and confessions of love but she not only had to worry about rejection for herself but for the small boy that crawled into her bed when the wind was too loud and begged for just one more bedtime story before she turned out the light. He thought his father was gone, that he had loved him and wanted him but that now he was gone. She couldn’t put her son in a position to be rejected. Not by his own father.

And so she stayed. She stayed away from England, away from her family, away from George. Until an owl arrived on her doorstep 2 weeks after Graysen’s third birthday, an envelope at its feet. With a sigh she took the envelope inside and tore into it, inside was an invitation to her sister’s wedding. It read...

Please join us for the wedding of Alexa & Dawson

The First of September, 2001 at six o’clock in the evening

Dawson’s Family Home

Painswick England

Reception to Follow

Also inside the envelope was a letter, a plea from Alexa to come home, to “Bring Graysen and come home. Just a few weeks. Be my maid of honor and let me meet my nephew.” And so, filled with guilt, Y/N booked the plane tickets and a week later the two of them flew to London.

**********

Leaving the safety of the home she had built made Y/N’s blood run cold, on edge every time she left her parents house, every flash of red hair was a Weasley in her mind and every time it wasn’t she’d breathe a sigh of relief. Until the day the air caught in her lungs as a tall red haired man spotted her across the street. Identical to the one that played in her mind all the time.

He raced across the street and threw his arms around her, barely taking notice of the small red haired boy holding tightly to her hand. “Y/N!” He exclaimed. “How long has it been?”

Y/N used her free hand to pat him on the back. “Almost four years, it’s good to see you Freddie.” She pulled away, her eyes darting to her son, standing at her feet looking up at the man with curiosity. It was then that Fred looked down too and in that moment he realized her long kept secret and she knew it.

“And who’s this?” His voice tentative as he looked between her and the boy.

“This is Graysen.” She smiled and crouched down beside him, the two of them now looking up at Fred. “Graysen, this is one of Mummy’s friends from school, can you say hello to Fred?”

With a glint in his eyes a grin spread across his face. “Hello Fred!”

Fred now too crouched down to a closer height. “Well hello to you too Graysen,” Fred held out his hand and Graysen grabbed it. “How old are you?”

Graysen smiled and jumped up and down. “I just turned three in July!”

Fred faked a shocked face. “Three in July? You’re awfully big for three.”

“Mommy said I got it from my Daddy.”

Fred mumbled under his breath. “I bet you did.”

Y/N gave him a smile and picked Graysen up. “Well we best get going, I have to pick up my dress for Alexa’s wedding, it’s in two weeks.”

Fred nodded. “Right, well I’ll let you get back to your errands, but only if you agree to come to dinner at the Burrow tonight. You spent so much time at our house during breaks Mum will be thrilled to see you.”

“Oh Fred I don’t know I wouldn’t want to impose.” She said, shaking her head vigorously.

“You wouldn’t be, you’re invited. Please come, bring Graysen and your partner.” He insisted, looking to the little boy.

Her voice became small, “Actually it’s just Gray and I.”

“All the more reason to come then.” He was certainly persistent on the matter.

Y/N smiled softly at him, “You’re not going to accept no are you?”

He shook his head, “Not this time.”

“I’ll be there, six as usual?”

“Mum does like to keep a tight meal schedule these days.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Perfect.” With that the two parted ways and Y/N regretted coming home.

**********

Fred strolled into the shop, two paper bags in hand, each filled with food from their favorite muggle dinner in London. Walking up to his brother and setting the food on the counter Fred narrowed his eyes at his brother. “George?” He began, “You remember like 4 years ago, there was a night you didn’t come home?”

George turned from his brother as the corners of his lips turned up at the memory.“Yeah, why?”

“Where were you?”

George rolled his eyes and sighed. “I told you before, I’m not telling you, I was safe that’s what matters.”

Fred rolled his eyes too and mumbled under his breath. “I don’t know if you were as safe as you could have been.”

George turned to him in confusion “What do you mean?”

Fred shook his head. “Nothing, just make sure you’re ready to go by six, you know mum doesn’t like us being late.”

**********

At half past five Y/N sat in front of her parents' empty fireplace, Graysen playing on the floor in front of her as a million thoughts raced through her mind, how could she have said yes? How could she have agreed to dinner with the family of her son, a boy they didn’t know existed, that they didn’t know was theirs. She had considered leaving him with her parents but Fred has specifically invited the two of them and so as the clock struck quarter to six she wrapped Graysen up in her arms and the two of them apparated to the Burrow. Placing Graysen on the ground and holding tightly to his hand Y/N knocked on the front door three times.

When the door swung open Molly Weasley stood on the other side, face bright and smiling and she pulled Y/N in for a hug and ushered her into the home.

It was as bright and warm as it had always been, filled with noise and people.

“Who’s this?” Molly asked smiling down at Graysen looking around the magical house in wonder.

“This is Graysen, my son.”

Molly looked at her with wide eyes, “Your son?”

“Yes, he’s why I left the county.”

Molly gave her a smile and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You did the right thing dear, it wasn’t safe.”

“I know, but I should have come back sooner.” Her voice was soft and filled with sadness.

“What’s done is done, now come, we’re all sitting down to dinner.”

Walking into the kitchen felt so normal, she’d taken so many meals here in her youth it felt so natural to take the seat she’d always held, right beside George, though his seat seemed to be empty.

The table filled, Aruther and Molly at the heads, Ginny and Harry, Hermione and Ron, Bill, Fleur, even Percy and his wife had joined the fray tonight but the twin’s seats still remained empty at six oh one when there was a loud crack and the two cackling gingers appeared.

“Sorry we’re late mum, one last customer and all that, you know how it is.” Fred smiled as their laughter died down and they looked to the table.

When their eyes locked the room went silent. Y/N and George just stared at each other, until Graysen pulled on her arm for her attention. That’s when George looked to the small boy beside her and his heart soared then sank. Silently he went to his seat, the one beside Y/N, just as it has always been back when they were younger. Though this time they stayed nearly silent as they filled their plates and ate, Y/N keeping a close eye on the boy next to her as he fed himself small spoonfuls of the concoction he’d made of his plate.

“So Y/N,” Fred spoke. “You introduce Georgie to your son?”

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “George? This is my son Graysen.”

George leaned around her to get a good look at the boy, the red hair and the big brown eyes, there was no doubt that he was a Weasley. “Hello Graysen, it’s nice to meet you. I’m George.”

With a full spoon still in his mouth Graysen attempted a smile and waved his little hand in George’s direction. The normal conversation resumed and George turned to her and asked. “How old is he?”

“He just turned three.” She stated, her eyes trained closely on her plate.

“He seems like a sweet boy.”

“He is, he’s adorable and an absolute terror at times. His tantrums have been known to shake walls.”

Arthur chuckled, jumping into the conversation. “You know, the twins were like that too when they were young, thought they were going to bring the whole house down once or twice.”

Y/N smiled and stayed silent, the rest of dinner focused entirely on the food in front of her and keeping Gray’s mess contained to his plate. Dinner was cleared and everyone ushered themselves into the living room, Graysen and Victoire sat in the middle of the floor playing, everyone else sat around them on couches and chairs. It was all polite conversation until Fred turned to her with a mischievous smile, the same one his twin got, the same one that Graysen got, the one that indicated a terrible, terrible, idea.

“So Y/N,” Fred began, “Who’s Graysen’s dad?”

Y/N tried to smile but the panic was clear on her face. “Wow, right to the hard hitters.”

“Shouldn’t be a hard question.” His tone flat, no hint of laughter in his voice. And so the interrogation began.

“You don’t know him.”

“Is he a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“Come from a big family?”

“No just him and his one sibling.”

“A twin?”

“No.”

“Parents names?”

“Mark and Anna.”

“What happened to him?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Did he go to hogwarts with us?”

“Yes.”

“Gryffindor?”

“Yes.”

Fred paused his rapid fire and his eyebrows rose. “Really?”

That was when it dawned on her, she’d slipped. There were only four Gryffindor boys their year. Fred knew it wasn’t him, and there was only one other redhead. “Fuck.” Y/N stood up quickly, picking Graysen up in her arms as she walked swiftly toward the door. “I’ve gotta go.”

George stood up after her following the two of them to the door. “Y/N wait!” He shouted but without a second thought a crack filled the air and she was gone.

George stormed back into the room, his eyes full of rage. “I can’t believe you!” He yelled his anger directed at his twin as the rest shuffled from the room.

Fred huffed. “Why are you angry with me? I was just asking questions about his father.” A sly smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair.

“Because you know it’s me and you pushed her anyway!” George grew more angry by the minute.

“I did that for you! Do you really think she was going to tell you when she’s kept it from you this long already? No!” Fred now stood, face to face with his twin.

George choked on his words, clenching and releasing his fists as he tried not to attack the man before him. After a moment, his breathing calmed and his voice steadied. “That’s not a decision you get to make for her or for me. Now I have to go fix this and I’ll be lucky if she lets me in.” And with that George turned and walked out the door.

#Tw: food #tw: food mention #tw pregnancy #tw children #tw one night stand #george weasley #george weasley imagine #Harry Potter series #harry Potter series imagine #george weasley x reader

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danwhobrowses · 2 years ago

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WWE Money in the Bank 2022 - Quickfire Review

So it's that time of the year again, Ladder Climbing Season

One of WWE's Big 5 PPVs (I'm not calling it that premium live event shtick) is in the books, so let's see how it went!

Spoilers for the PPV

Kick Off

A congrats to Rosenburg for getting engaged

WWE are definitely trying to keep Cody in people's minds, but honestly 'peak of my career'? This is the dude who was ROH and NWA world champion

Of course they talked up Logan Paul as well. I mean, I get it he's an influencer, but it's only short term stuff. Paul can be a good wrestler, but he has to make sure he doesn't make the same mistakes as Ronda Rousey has, and that includes believing he can be a babyface

One Whole Hour of Kick-off and 0 Matches, absolute bull

Main Card

Even as a heel Becky gets that pop, dunno what the headset was but the green and gold was great, she almost looked like a Psycho Ranger

Liv getting a pop close to Becky, Alexa and Asuka was great

Is Raquel's gimmick that she has a back?

I remember that MITB and I can tell you that pop from the crowd was not for Alexa, people were heartbroken that Becky got slighted again

Camera cuts really need to simmer

0 Love for Lacey

Shotzi has had a bit of messy match which is a shame

There has been some really nasty landings in this match

Happy to see Liv win, her rebounding back from the ladder was a clever spot, and Becky freaking out makes sense because she's 3 for 3 for being the last woman kicked off the ladder. The match was scrappy, but decent.

Not a good day for accuracy between the WMITB and Theory overshooting his dive

The match got better the more it went in, it started as a pseudo-squash, threatened to get boring with Theory using rest holds but finished strong

Did Carmella raid Charlotte's feather closet?

Match was fine as it was, nobody thought Carmella had a chance but they didn't squash her and they didn't overstay their welcome, Carmella's post-match should've been a sneaky misdirect but didn't quite land

That Lily credit card ad thing was abysmal...

Burgundy was nice on the Profits

See unifying the Tag Titles was a good idea on paper, but WWE's delivery has been poor given the complete lack of depth in the tag division, by no fault of the wrestlers

Ford also can easily be a great singles competitor

This tag match is sponsored by smacking people in the mouth

Great final third, but now what? The Usos don't really have any more babyface teams to face again for like another month

Oh the raised shoulder, so this will continue the feud

Bray? Or is that just Spooky Edge?

WWE do NFTs? Yeah I'm not surprised

That was a mild pop for Ronda, but at least props for the pride colours

Sharpshooter is devastating to the back, Pat

This match is sponsored by calling each other 'Bitch'

I've often criticized Ronda's inexperience and lack of charisma, but this is the best I've seen her look in a long time. The Shawn Michaels pose during the Sharpshooter was a smart spot

The match was decent, like Belair nobody gave Nattie a chance, but at the least it didn't overstay its welcome, mainly operating in Ronda's wheelhouse

Morgan cashing in though was the bigger pop. I dislike though that they had her immediately get caught into the ankle lock, Ronda was perfectly set up for an Oblivion, should've been that then pin rather than a rollup

But still, very glad to see Liv FINALLY get gold, I fear it won't last long because well...Ronda...and it's mostly a babyface version of Bliss' cash in at 2018, but still, Liv finally gets the W

Urgh, Ronda doing the Hogan at Mania 4, just let Liv have her moment!

This is a surprisingly tame abomination that Seth is wearing

Pretty dumb of Shamu not to use his fighter boys to have an edge in this match

Okay but why? It makes 0 sense

Sami hiding behind the turnbuckle post was great

Pat this ladder has held the Big Show and Mark Henry I think it'd be fine

JEEZ that recoil

Ladder Floating Bro was a great spot

Missed chance to have Omos erupt from the pile of ladders like Godzilla

There's Butch, finally realising wrestling maths

I hate the finish in layers. For one it completely renders the whole qualifying process redundant (they even had a mobile raffle thing which had fans ask who would win MITB hours before announcing Theory in the match, meaning tons of fans wasted their money), for second it's just 2019 when Brock won the MITB, for third 3 of these guys shouldn't have really been in the match: Theory for obvious reasons, Drew because he has Clash at the Castle and Riddle because he lost a title match which bans him from challenging Reigns again and for fourth, because it's Vince McMahon's fingerprints all over this, the man's 'stepping down' is completely meaningless in terms of booking

I know Theory is considered one for the future, despite losing at mania to Pat which does make all these veteran wrestlers look like losers, and he may do really well with the briefcase, but he doesn't resonate with me at all and to finish the PPV like that was quite underwhelming. Which is a shame because the match was good, and I really REALLY wanted Sami to be given his dues, there was story in him being the MITB winner

Conclusion

Overall this was a fine PPV. It had some twists, some good but not all, and everyone worked hard. I can't say it's my favourite piece of wrestling I've seen this week though, such is the risk with WWE's newfound PPV approach of attempting to overdeliver on weak builds. It at least sets up for more, but you can't help feeling that there could have been more.

Match Results and Predictions

Liv Morgan def. Becky Lynch, Asuka, Alexa Bliss, Raquel Gonzalez, Lacey Evans & Shotzi for the Women's Money in the Bank Briefcase Bobby Lashley def. Theory (c) [Submission via Hurt Lock] - NEW CHAMPION!! Bianca Belair (c) def. Carmella [Pinfall via KOD] The Usos (c) def. Street Profits [Pinfall on Ford via 1-D] Ronda Rousey (c) def. Natalya [Submission via Armbar] CASH IN: Liv Morgan def. Ronda Rousey (c) [Pinfall via Roll-up] - NEW CHAMPION!! Theory def. Drew McIntyre, Seth 'Freakin' Rollins, Sheamus, Riddle, Omos, Sami Zayn & Madcap Moss for the Money in the Bank Briefcase

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years ago

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love in all its forms - rafe cameron

you love rafe cameron and he loves you too. sometimes it’s better shown than told

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: allusion to sex, light angst (duh its me), no dialogue (is that a warning? idk)

words: 1k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for ages, finally finished her up this morning. this is probably the last thing i write for obx for a while, hoping s2 will bring some more motivation

Rafe Cameron has never been big on ‘I love you’s. He loves to hear it from you - your cracked sleep-laden voice first thing in the morning, a breathless whimper when he’s inside of you, rushed and casually as you peck his lips and leave the house, softly in his ear before you fall asleep in his arms, a quick text throughout the day. There is no sweeter sound that falls from your lips than those three syllables, except maybe for your soft sighs and moans.

Growing up, he never heard the words. A dead mother and an absentee father who didn’t have the time to ensure his emotional needs were met. It worsened as he got older, saddled with responsibilities and expectations he couldn’t keep up with, his father’s absenteeism grew into cold malice, the lack of love became an intentional absence. Ward Cameron only loved two of his children, and neither of them were his only son.

And so Rafe finds the words difficult to say. He means them, oh God does he mean them. He loves you like he’s never loved anything before. When he looks at you he sees an unbridled future, the two of you against the world, surviving and thriving, despite obstacle after obstacle. He sees marriage and a white picket fence and a dog and two and a half children that he will love the way he never was loved. He sees possibilities and hope and everything he ever dreamed of. He sees love in its purest form.

While he can’t say the words back when you utter them, he shows you in so many other ways. A vase of calla lilies brought home on a random Tuesday ‘just because’ and ‘they made me think of you’. Makeshift candle lit dinners when he knows you’ve had a bad day. Always vacuuming the living room carpet before you even have a chance to ask, because he knows it is your least favorite cleaning duty. Grabbing you a blue gatorade and your favorite snack when fueling up on a road trip even though you said you didn’t want anything. Gentle lovemaking, held hands and foreheads pressed together, intermingling breaths and soft kisses on bare skin.

You treated him so good, he isn’t sure he deserves it. He knows he can be an asshole, and his temper needs work, and he can be overly possessive which you hate. He often says the wrong thing, can snap at you when you don’t deserve it. He sometimes forgets important things like your anniversary or dinner with one of your parents, and you don’t like it when he blows you off to go golfing with the boys. But you love him, flaws and all, and you will always forgive him.

You knew love. Growing up, your parents had always told you they loved you and each other. with words, with actions, with gifts. Every morning you would witness the blissful domestic form of love, as your parents moved around the kitchen, movements a decades long choreography of your mother making coffee as your father made eggs. Stolen kisses and slight squeezes. A kiss atop your head and to your mother’s cheek before your father left for work and your mother was left to get you off to school. Dancing in the kitchen and family vacations and quiet Tuesdays. Father/daughter dances and dates and your mother pulling you out of school early one Friday a month to take you to get your nails done and a late lunch at your favorite restaurant. Consequently, you grew up very loved.

However you also knew love could hurt. As a teenager, you had watched as your parents’ love for each other couldn’t combat their issues with each other. As your mother sought love in a man ten years her junior and as your father blamed himself, that his love hadn’t been enough for her. You knew that despite love’s best intentions it could very quickly turn to resentment, hate and impatience. You had witnessed the death of love, seen love in its most desperate and despicable form.

Despite this you had fallen deeply and quickly in love with Rafe Cameron. From the moment you had met freshman year at some stupid social your roommate had dragged you to, you knew he was it for you. He was dressed like a douchebag, blue henley and backwards baseball cap with your university team written across it, a red solo cup full of jungle juice grasped in one hand, the other hand flicking through his phone. Ordinarily he was exactly the type of guy that you would avoid but there was something about the look in his eye, or maybe it was the small smirk that graced his lips when he caught you staring for a minute too long. Whatever it was, it possessed you to cross the makeshift dancefloor, place your hand in his and drag him to dance with you; all without even knowing his name yet. He’d let you guide him and hadn’t stopped following you like a lovesick puppy since.

At first it bothered you that he couldn’t say the words. You had an idea in your head of what the perfect progression of a relationship was, and when you had said the words first and he had been unable to reciprocate, you had stormed out of his apartment in a mix of embarrassment and sadness that your feelings were not shared. As he explained the next day, that wasn’t quite the truth, that he had never been comfortable with the words but that didn’t mean that he didn’t mean them too.

As your relationship progressed, you began to see the ways he told you he loved you without having to physically speak the words. Picking you up at the bar after a few too many without any judgement. Taking on your least favorite household chores so you wouldn’t have to. You realized that love was more than three words, eight letters. It was every action, every conscious choice where he picked you every time.

Your love wasn’t perfect. It was selfish and petty at times, it wasn’t always fair. But it was beautiful too, understanding and compassion and light. It was a combination of all you were and all that he was, and in all of its forms it was yours.

taglist babies (im so sorry if u dont care abt this anymore, i just copy pasted from my last fic lov u ) @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @rekrappeter @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @hoodpankow @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @bloodyheavcn @anxietyandtacos @diverrdown @starkeyseguin @dmonchld@rafej-cambanks @stfukie @obxmermaid

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alldayangst · 4 years ago

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100 letters, just for me (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. PAIRING: uni (fuckboy/frat) Tom x uni reader. Summary: ‘You wrote a hundred letters just for me / And I find them in my closet in the pockets of my jeans / Now I’m constantly reminded me of the time I was nineteen / Every single ones forgotten in a laundromat machine’.

“Walk of shame?” your friend, Camren, sat in the lounge, TV on low as Tom walked with his clothes carelessly thrown on his body, recovered hoodies and jumpers you previously stole sat in a pile as high as mountains in his hands, leading Camren to wonder whether or not it was really the end this time round. “Third time this week!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be back anytime soon.” Tom slams the door behind him as hard as he could, and just when Camren thinks they can get a moment of peace, they hear a screeching sob rip through the air through the walls of your room. And Camren swears they live in a movie; a scratched CD of a bad romantic drama, that replays the part where the lovers face their problems over and over again.

‘My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it’

You remembered the start of this debacle like it was yesterday. You and Tom were in the bathtub and Tom told you to reach inside the back pocket of your jeans, he’d left something important in there. “I’m not ready to get married, if you left a ring in there. I’m only 19.” Tom kissed your shoulder, back cold and pressed against the tub - but he’d been willing to compromise to be the crutch you leaned against, to be the haven you found refuge in. To be the hill you died on.

“It better not be a ring, Holland. I swear.”

“I’ve never met someone who didn’t want to get proposed to as much as you.” He laid his chin against your shoulder once your search become successful, and you found a strip of paper in your trouser back pocket.

“My mouth hasn’t shut up about you, since you kissed it.” You turned to Tom who could only see your face in the corner of his eye, having found a new living situation of the warm, wet slope previously called your shoulder. “Tom, what is this?”

“100 letters, just for you. You’ll find them in every pair of your jeans. I’m with you forever.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and press a hard, loving kiss on your lips, causing you to drop the tiny piece upon which Tom scribbled his message. “Just for me? You stole this from a love letter by Alex Turner to Alexa Chung!” Tom couldn’t take his love-hazed gaze off of you, and kissed you again like he was oblivious to the words you were saying or you were speaking a foreign language he didn’t understand. “You don’t stop complaining, do you?”

Six months later marked the end of yours and Tom’s gap year, and you decided to move in together off campus.

“I can’t find it.” Tom smiled as he shook his head, your orange in his hand as he sat on a stool opposite your lunchbox. He knew you had a presentation that day and was eager to impress, so you’d shoved your most sensible pair of slacks in the washing machine without a care and when Tom went to unload it, his note for you torn into tiny pieces and covered in botched ink slithered out and caplunked into a minuscule puddle on your wooden floor.

“I’m serious, you didn’t write one this time.” You rummaged through your blazer pockets just to check for certain you were right before you turned to Tom with every bit of confidence that he’d truly forgotten to write you a little love letter this time around.

Tom placed the orange back into the fruit basket and opted for a tomato instead. He took note of the shock in your face and the wince you made as he juggled it, and it drew dangerously close to the ground. “Tom, don’t juggle that. If it hits the ground, it will splatter everywhere.” Tom giggled.

“Have you checked your slacks?”

“You think I haven’t checked my trousers?” You turned your trouser pockets inside out with the flare of pride.”You’ve forgotten. It’s OK, Tom.”

You opened your lunchbox to place your orange in, but a piece of red card occupied the compartment usually owed to your snacks.

You held the card up: “I love you from my head tomatoes.” Tom chuckled cheekily, not watching as the tomato rolled off the counter and depicted a large, red splatter on the kitchen floor. But Tom promised he would clean it up.

Tom didn’t forget about writing one love letter, until he did. And by that point, his letters had felt almost as autonomous as the days of the week. You didn’t even have to think about it, they just went by. So you’d be raking through every end of the house, expecting to find his letter.

“Tom, where’s the letter?”

“Huh? I don’t know.” Tom locked the door as if he’d been chased by wolves, looking up and down through the peephole and then giving a satisfied lick of the lip.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“As in, I don’t know - you’d have to look for it darling.”

Little did he know that’s what you spent your whole day doing. And you hadn’t found anyone with sharper eyes or a bigger will to find it for you.

You didn’t find the note that night. You didn’t know there wasn’t any.

“I found one! ‘You’re my happy place’.” Huh. Tom hadn’t written a new one in a while. He must have put a note in both of the pockets in this pair of jeans. These jeans had been tossed aside, barely worn, in fact - never worn since you’d tried them out in the dressing room at the store two months ago. You were in awe of how young love could take you so far, and kissed the tired Tom that laid beside you. You pulled back and caressed his cheek.

“Why didn’t you kiss back?” You asked, too drunk on ignorant bliss to acknowledge the warning signs and the parade of red flags that told you to leave before you got truly hurt. “M’ just tired.” And it showed. His hair was matted, clad to his face, a few shades darker that it usually was due to all the sweat. He took in every breath like he’d never breathed before and kept watering at the eye; the kind of cry you did when even the fatigue wouldn’t let you sleep.

It was inevitable. Three months later, you and Tom broke up. You were freshly twenty, and freshly out of a relationship. Tom moved out of your shared apartment, and you found yourself trying to navigate university with a compass that seemed to only point South. You never had to have friends here before, because you had Tom. It was out of sheer luck that you stumbled upon Camren who not only shared your soul and your mind, but agreed to share your home. Tom Holland quickly became synonymous with London nightlife and out of reluctance to let you go (call it withdrawal symptoms), requested that you continue to see each other as long as romance was left out of the equation. You’d happily obliged and incessantly kept a cobweb-covered carousel going years after it stopped being the main attraction. On the nights you left with Tom, Camren was tossed aside, forgotten like coat in a cloakroom, so it was only fair game that they’d tease and whine at you when Tom left in the morning. If Tom left in the morning.

Tom was ravenous, and you ended up on Camren’s nest of a sofa. “I love the bones off you.” he muttered, and Tom was perhaps too keen to grab a handful of your backside, he docked both hands into both your pockets, fingernails scrambling at little torn pieces of paper. His heart went into panic mode. He squirmed to get out. The piece of paper landed beside you as he forcefully yanked his hands out, feeling like a prisoner freed to a world that was only half of what it was before.

‘I’d be a crazy, blind man to ever leave you.’

The room fell silent. Maybe with Camren’s TV on low, you didn’t have the space to have these moments. To stop indulging in the highs of life and really examine why the lows were the lows.

“Tom. I’m demanding honesty.”

Tom sighs. He’s so different these days, so cold. He unentangles your bodies and huffs and puffs like a little kid who hasn’t gotten their way. This, before you’d even said anything. You don’t know if you can deal with this white noise.

“I just want to know why we broke up.”

Tom chooses to look at the artwork opposite the couch, because his safe place is no longer his safe place. Because now that you’re demanding honesty, instead of taking it when it comes, his happy place becomes his vulnerable. Tom didn’t like to be vulnerable. It’s why he ended things in the first place.

“Well, we’re in uni..” Tom’s not sure if he wants to continue. He can feel the spotlight on him, you looking at him. He’s center stage but not one for attention. He’s suddenly painfully aware of the fragility of his answer, and worries it will go ‘splat!’ and make like a tomato, and then you’ll really never speak to him again. He furrows his brows as he looks down into his lap, twiddling and pulling at his fingers as if they had the answer (they used to) before he says it in the best way he knows how, your eyes boring into him. “We’re at uni, and there’s so many beautiful women and handsome men, and mighty attractive human beings walking around here, and it’s hard to believe one person you met at a stupid age could compare to the pool of people that are here.”

And how it sounds in Tom’s head, how he meant it is so much better to the way it sounds and means to you. Because words like ‘compare’ and ‘pool of people’ highlight how insignificant and worthless Tom felt he was to you. He felt he communicated how he insecure he was feeling. To you? Words like ‘comapre’ only shine a torch on your own insecurities and phrases like ‘pool of people’ makes you contemplate whether Tom was ever unfaithful, and it made you feel insignificant, worthless.

“So, I’m definitely not the only person in your life right now.” Tom looks up and before he can say anything- “I’m not something you can butter up and taste when you get bored.”

“Y/N.” Tom starts. “That would never be the way I could see you.”

“I’d like you to leave, Tom.”

And leave he does.

Two weeks later, you and Camren found yourself in a predicament. “Can you get it out?” Camren had their hand down the drain of your bathtub. Cautiously, they launched two fingers in. “Can you get it out?” You asked again, nibbling lightly on the tip of your nails out of nervousness.

“Honestly, it doesn’t feel that big.” Camren stops their search after hooking their finger around the culprit of which blocked your plughole. “It’s a piece of fucking paper.” Camren sighs a breath of relief. “My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it.”

You breathe in.

Credit for the gif goes to: /dreamyyholland

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jacobyjohnson38 · 3 years ago

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I hope you might return to wwe Alexa Bliss why I'm new fan of you I don't know why I love to watch u on online also tv but I didn't go live wwe event long time ago

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

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Blue Dream IX

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Allen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 6, 258

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Chapter IX: He Loves Me; Because she looks like a woman drowning in bliss, a woman draped in desire, the look of it hugging like a second skin. She looks like the way women might be described in romance novels, so satisfied she can’t think of anything other than being wrapped up in the man giving her the satisfaction. She looks like the woman in some fantasy or dream, ascending the clouds, spread out and open in an expanse of blue. She sings it in her head, you school me, give me things to think about; invite me, you ignite me, co-write me, you love me, you like me; incite me to chorus, at the same time that she sings out loud, “god, Bear, baby yes,” her eyes fluttering closed at only the very last minute. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter.)

He Loves Me

You love me especially different every time

You keep me on my feet happily excited

By your cologne, your hands, your smile, your intelligence

You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me

You school me, give me some things to think about

Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me, you love me, you like me

You incite me to chorus, ooh

She tells him she loves him on a Friday night.

A week later, and it's the first night in a long while that she doesn’t get to stay at home because Barry has asked if he can have her time tonight. He doesn’t give her any details, only tells her to come over to his place around 8 and to be prepared to stay over. He seems particularly animated, when he asks, and it makes Iris wonder why, if he’s got something planned or if it’s just that he’s happy he gets to spend the time with her, even if they’ve been around each other more than usual this week.

So, the entire day, she’s dizzy with excitement.

Her taping of Good Morning, Central City is mid-morning. The segment tapes live at 9:30, which gives her some time to down a cup of coffee or two to settle her nerves, and then carefully apply her makeup. She dresses in one of her favorite dresses, a long sleeved wrap dress in black with soft, pretty flowers printed on it and a pair of shoes that boost her confidence, tall black pumps with a gold heel and gold double chains around the ankle. The neck of the dress dips and the delicate material flirts with her lower thighs; she feels pretty in it, in a lighter, brighter way than she’s found herself feeling before. Her makeup is subtle, except for the dark maroon lip, and she’s had her hair blown out and it hangs in soft fingered out curls just past her shoulders. A small black bag is all she takes to keep her keys and cards and then she’s out the door.

WCCTV, the station that houses the studio, is a short drive away, tucked into a neighborhood that Iris doesn’t frequent. She isn’t sure what she was expecting of the station, but it’s a squat little building in an unimaginative cream and brick scheme that would look like any other commercial building if not for WCCTV printed in large blue letters on the building and the satellite dishes spaced intentionally around it.

A news producer meets her at the door, a thin young woman with thick red hair piled into a high ponytail who introduces herself as Katherine.

“We’re all excited to have you here,” the woman says, smiling as she leads Iris through a number of desk cubicles towards a back room. She recognizes a couple of the anchors from the station, who all look either intensely focused on their work or bored out of their minds.

“Thanks,” Iris says politely. “It is a little overwhelming here, though.”

Iris doesn’t love speaking in front of people, which is why she's firmly on the invisible side of her work, but she isn’t as nervous and she figures she could be. There’s that feeling in her belly she connects with nerves, but it’s slight; instead, she’s ready. This can change the trajectory of her blog, invite more viewers and more paying ads. It could invite more stories, people who see her and trust that she wants to do right by them and their lives. She’s practically giddy with the idea.

Katherine’s response is an easy grin. “I know it seems that way, but you’ll be fine. You look fabulous so that’s one concern out of the way. Plus, Alexa and James are phenomenal at getting people to open up at the same time that they project a sort of calmness. It's fascinating to watch and I can tell you’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Katherine. I really appreciate that.”

Iris is led back to a small room where the two anchors for Good Morning, Central City are standing with four other local internet stars. Alexa May is tall and blonde and exactly like what one thinks about when they think of a news anchor: pretty and personable on a killer black skirt suit, though Iris is a little surprised at the naturally kind gleam in her eyes. James Broderick is even taller, his dark hair styled to look windswept, his ice blue eyes looking constantly around the room, as if he’s always wondering where a new story might be.

Iris steps in to greet the other four guests. They include a short Somalian woman in a beautiful bright purple hijab who cooks and shares recipes on YouTube; a stocky white guy known for his skits on TikTok; a dark-skinned Black Instagram beauty guru; and a non-binary Mexican person who discusses true crimes on Snapchat ala Buzzfeed Unsolved. It’s an eclectic collection of people and Iris feels honored to be a part of this group. She’s watched all of their videos in some fashion, though she’s more partial to Aya, the home chef, and Nadine, the beauty grammer. Still, they each have large followings and to be included gives Iris such a sense of pride, that she’s a little drunk with the force of it.

“You guys ready?” Alexa’s strong voice pulls all of their attention immediately, and Iris passes one more look through the crew of them before locking eyes with Alexa and James.

She nods her assent.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At 8, Iris pulls into Barry’s two-car driveway right next to his Jeep backed up into the drive as usual. The garage is open, though, and she takes that as an invitation to walk into the house, finding the kitchen door unlocked. She steps in and presses the button that closes the garage, locks the kitchen door behind her.

Her giddy mood has stuck with her.

The segment had been a quick fire round of questions and answers, with the hosts wanting to know how they all got started, what motivates them to do what they do, and the ups and downs of being in spaces of both influence and criticism. It’d been fascinating to hear the stories of the others, and afterward, they’d all exchanged contact information with the idea of collaborating on future projects.

After, she’d gone to lunch with her dad and Wally, who’d all but hinted at a watch party planned for the following night. She'd merely shaken her head at her family’s love of partying.

Now, she’s at Barry’s and she recognizes that tonight is going to be different. Because she knows that she’s going to say it. After the last part of her interview, where she’d all but explained to Alexa and James that she’d fallen in love with someone, she understands that there is no way that she can announce it on television and not tell the man himself.

It’s fairly dark in the house; there is a small light on above the stove. She continues through the quiet living room, a single table lamp lighting her path down his hallway. She pauses to pull her jacket off, tossing it over the arm of the sofa as she treks towards his room. That’s where she finds Barry, sitting in the large overstuffed chair in the corner near the window.

She takes a moment to look at him, in a pair of soft looking pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt, tattooed arm hooked behind his head as he sits wide-legged in the chair. His dark hair is only the slightest bit messy. Iris likes the look of the breadth of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps, the print of his sex visible through the thin cotton of his pants. He’s not overtly sexy in the way that other men she’s dated have been, but there’s something about Barry, his eyes and his mouth and his length, that really gets to Iris.

She drags her eyes away from him and that’s when she suddenly notices the two gift-wrapped boxes sitting in the middle of his bed, the large bottle of wine and two glasses on his bedside table, a couple of pre-rolled joints sitting beside them too.

Iris steps further into the room, her heels heavy on his hardwood floors; the movement is enough to catch his attention and his head pops up, those sea-foam eyes glittering behind the wire frames of his glasses as he smiles up at her.

(And, Iris will realize later, her entire body floods with her affection for him, the feeling familiar in that the thought comes so much easier now, comes to her so smoothly that she doesn’t know how it’d once felt so difficult to get the words across.)

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets as he stands, unfolding his long frame from the chair. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” she smiles at him as he comes to a stop in front of her. She naturally reaches out to wrap her arms around him, tightening them around his waist. His touch is automatic too, his big hands landing on her neck, thumbs trailing softly across the skin on her cheeks. She falls against him, his firmness and his warmth and the soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leans down and kisses her, a peck and then another, and then a longer one, his tongue easing out to coax her open. He pulls back first, though slowly, and Iris chases after him. He obliges with another kiss, this one longer, wetter, Iris squeezing him to her.

“Hi,” she speaks, voice a little faint.

“Hey, beautiful” he repeats. He thumbs at her bottom lip, the tip of his finger tracing gently over the line of her mouth.

“What’s all this?” she asks, when she pulls away from him this time. She gazes around the room again, at how the only lights on are the bedside lamps and at the weed and wine waiting on one of those tables and the gifts sitting neatly on the bed.

“It’s a celebration,” he says with a wide smile. “Well, it’s your Friday night routine, just here. I got the wine and the weed, and Thai ordered out here for a bit later.” His smile dims a little, becomes unsure. “And I thought we could talk about your segment today; maybe actually watch it. I recorded it.”

“Really?” Iris’s eyes widen in slight surprise. “I know my dad and Wally did because we’re gonna have a watch party at dad’s place tomorrow. And probably Linda, but...”

“Of course I recorded it, baby.” Barry gives her an indulgent look. “I tried to watch some of it at work, but we got called out on a case before you came on. Then I thought it’d be better to wait to watch it with you.”

Iris doesn’t have a response other than to bite at her lip, eyes trained on him, the reality of his kindness rendering her momentarily speechless. Barry doesn’t acknowledge her silence; instead, he plants another firm kiss to her mouth and steps away from her, nodding at his bed.

“Is this all okay, though? Maybe you can open your gifts and then we can pour the wine and turn on your interview?”

Her smile is big. “Yeah, Barry, of course.”

She looks over at the sleekly wrapped presents before going to sit on the edge of his bed. She makes quick work of unclasping the buckle around her ankle, leaving her shoes strewn on the floor, and then she hops up into the middle of the bed, pulling the two boxes in front of her, her dress riding up to the top of her thighs.

One of the boxes is bigger than the other, though it’s lighter than the heavier one. They’re wrapped in shiny gold paper with dark blue bows sitting in the corner of each. She picks up the bigger present first, tearing through the paper. She recognizes the garment box and thumbs open the top. Nestled in white tissue paper is a pile of red silk, the material so soft and delicate it looks like waves on the cardboard.

“Bear?” she questions, picking up the folded clothing. It’s a nightgown and matching robe. The gown is almost like a dress she’d wear out, with thin straps and a split up the right side, except the fabric of it is so light, one can tell it’s only made to be seen by a lover. The feel of it in her hands is so nice and Iris knows that this isn’t like the inexpensive dresses she buys for herself.

“I thought that you could have one to keep over here sometimes,” he says when she catches his gaze. He looks a little bashful, cheeks slightly tinged pink. “I know that Friday night is largely your thing, but maybe every so often you can spend it with me.”

“And wear this?” Iris asks, her grin widening slowly.

Barry nods.

“I think that this is really a gift for you,” she says and he barks out a laugh.

“It is my favorite color.” He grins. “And I admit that when I saw it, the first thing I wondered was how it would look as I took it off of you.”

Iris rolls her eyes in jest. “Pervert.” She fingers the material again. “So you picked it out yourself? In a store?”

“You have no idea how embarrassing it is buying women’s lingerie. The sales lady kept making these innuendos and I thought I was gonna pass out, I was blushing so hard.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Iris laughs as she reaches over and pinches his cheek. “You did good though. It’s so soft.”

Barry beams at her. “Can I get a kiss as a thanks?”

Iris shakes her head. “Not until I open this other one. I could hate it and then that would overshadow how much I like this nightgown.”

He snorts. “Even if you do hate it, I’ll still get to see you in the nightgown and, honestly, that’ll make my night.”

“Like I said: pervert.”

He just chuckles as she picks up the heavier box and claws at the paper on it. It looks like some sort of leather book, and once Iris pulls all of the paper off, it takes everything in her not to just start bawling right then and there. It’s the journal she’d seen at the fall festival, except in a pretty royal purple instead of the coral she’d picked up there; this one’s definitely a better choice. It has the rose gold edging that the other had and her name is stitched in that same color at the bottom right corner of the journal. She flips through it, fingering the heavy cream paper. Handwriting catches her attention and she turns to where Barry has written a message on the first page in small, scrawling script.

Iris,

I think I knew that I was falling for you during fall fest, when I saw you staring down at the notebook with such a look of reverence on your face. I could see in that moment how much you loved your craft. It made me curious about you, about someone who’s goal in life is to be the voice for those who can’t or simply won’t. And when I started to read your work, I saw your heart in everything you wrote, in every line that scrolled across my computer screen. I wanted to know that heart.

Now that I do, now that I’ve seen it firsthand: in the way that you touch me, in the way that you smile at me, in the way that you make me feel like every day is new story to experience, I want to be able to experience it for as long as you’ll let me. Because you are a lightning bolt, Iris, brilliant and electric. You are beautiful and tenacious and the single most fascinating person I’ve ever met.

So keep putting your heart into your stories, and I’ve no doubt that everyone who reads it will love it as much as I do.

Barry

“Barry,” she says, breathes really. She looks up at him, his expression nervous, his eyes tracking her. She feels the moisture pricking at the corners of hers and she blinks, letting the tears fall.

“Iris.” His voice is a little raw as she gazes up at him. “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I can…” he cuts himself off as he reaches for the journal. Iris swats at his hand and brings the notebook closer to her. “Iris?”

Another tear, and then another and then more, roll down over her cheeks and Barry stares at her, hand outstretched, mouth agape.

“Iris,” he tries again. Wordlessly, she places the journal back down in the box and then she crawls over to him, planting herself in his lap. She wraps herself around him, legs locking around his waist, arms crossing behind his neck. He closes his mouth, but his features are still twisted in turmoil. “Baby, please tell me why you’re crying.”

He asks this as he reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Everything in Iris seems like it’s settling now, even as the tears fall. Even clearer than before, she can read the story of them, like the book is in front of her, words bold and in technicolor. She can see the dream she’s living in, the vision of them laughing with each other and making love to each other, for days on end, one that plays out like a movie in front of her.

She tightens around him, trying to get as close as she can without crawling inside of him—she really wishes she could right now—and she sniffs, looking down at Barry through her wet lashes. She takes a deep breath. And then she tells him.

“I’m crying because I love you.”

Much like the last time they’d had this conversation, Barry’s body stiffens beneath her. He asks carefully, “And loving me makes you cry?”

She nods and Barry looks stricken. It’s what she needs to bring a modicum of levity to the moment and she huffs out a small laugh. “These aren’t sad tears, Barry.”

Iris can physically see him exhale, letting out a shaky breath. His shoulders lose their tension and he gives her a tentative smile. She returns it.

“For someone who always seems to know what I’m thinking, you completely missed the mark here.”

Barry shakes his head as Iris notes the flush climbing up his neck. “The tears threw me off.” He wipes at her face. “Please never do that again.”

She laughs. “I’ll do my best.”

Barry runs a hand down her back, over the fabric of the dress she’s wearing, and he grips her chin with his other thumb and forefinger, bringing her down so he can stare into her eyes.

“So you love me?” he wonders. His voice dips, lower like midnight walks on a beach in the fall or like early morning talks before coffee and reality ease in. He pulls the glasses from his face, folds them on the table beside them, and gives her all of his attention. She likes being surrounded by him like this, by the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him. She stays wrapped around him like a koala and Barry holds on to her too, gripping her chin and pressing her to him with a wide palm to the small of her back.

“I do,” Iris nods. “Very much.”

Iris can see the joy brimming in his gaze. “Can you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“What you love about me.”

Barry shifts so that he’s sitting more comfortably on the bed and she’s perched even closer in his lap, the crotch of her panties almost pressing against his belly. He pushed the boxes and wrapping better towards the edge of the bed.

“For example,” he says, and he lets go of her chin to touch his palm to her chest. His hand is warm through the fabric of her dress. “You know that I love this heart, how gracious and compassionate it is.” He reaches down and picks up on her hands, rubbing a thumb along her knuckles, along the rings that adorn her fingers. He brings it up to his mouth and presses a few tiny kisses along the pads of her fingertips. “I love these fingers, because it’s through your writing, your typing, that you show yourself, even when you can’t always physically or verbally.” He goes back to her face, his thumb caressing the middle of her bottom lip. “I love this mouth: the way that it smiles and laughs, the way that it purses when you’re annoyed, the way that it feels on my own.”

Iris can’t help it when she licks her lips, tongue swiping at Barry’s thumb. He makes a soft grunting sound.

“Tell me, Iris.”

She thinks back to the second night they’d been together, when he’d been hard inside of her and he’d asked her to tell him how he felt fucking into her. She decides that this is even harder, not because she doesn’t know, but because when she speaks it, it’s officially there, written out in the sky, heaven coming to collect on its bet.

“I love your tattoos,” she starts, tentatively. She unhooks one of her arms from around his neck and touches at the skin on his arm, tracing the outline of a white daisy. “I love that you did it as a way to remember your mother; I love that you were brave enough to put the iris on your heart, even when I wasn’t sure how to receive that.” She reaches up to trail her fingers along his brows. “I love your eyes. I love the look of them, the fact that I can’t actually name what color they are; I love the way you look at me, how you can tell my feelings by just watching me, how it seems like I’m the only one you see whenever we’re out together.” She lets a nail trace the outline of his mouth, dropping her hand to rest on the back of his neck. “I love your mouth too; the way you always say things that make me feel beautiful or smart or loved.” She licks her lips again. “Or make me blush, like when you’re saying those dirty things when you’re…”

Barry gives her a deep smirk, those eyes flashing in a way that makes Iris’s body clench. Her thighs close around him.

“Like me saying those dirty things when I’m…?”

She rocks her hips. “You know.”

“I do,” he nods, “but I want to hear you say it.” He grinds up into her. “When I’m what, baby?”

“When,” she licks her lips again, slower this time, buoyed by the way his eyes darken, “you fuck me.”

“Mmmm,” Barry groans and then his grin changes to something a little indecent, darker and dirtier. “You know what else I love?”

Iris shakes her head, though she thinks she does.

“I love the way you respond to me, when I’m saying those dirty things to you when I’m fucking you.”

Iris rocks her hips again and she knows that it’s an involuntary moment. Because, like always, she responds to him easily, fluidly, like they’ve become extensions of the other.

Barry fingers at the hem of her dress sitting around her thighs. “Take this off,” he demands. “I want to show you how you look.”

Even with her brows furrowed in confusion, she does what he says, pulling the dress up and over her head. She reveals to him her bra and panty set, a dark green that even she thinks makes her skin glow. He fingers the lace at the top of the cups of her bra, at the same piping along her hips.

“As pretty as this is,” he murmurs, “I want it gone too.”

She unhooks the bra first, staring back at him. She tosses the bra on the bed beside them, her breasts sitting heavy on her chest, nipples already pointing out at him, seeking him, his fingers or his tongue or the nip of his teeth.

He helps her off of him so that she can take her panties off. Then, instead of letting her climb back on top of him, however, he positions himself so that he’s facing the side of the bed. He pulls her to him and sits her so she is sitting between his open knees, her back to his chest.

This brings a different part of the room into focus. Iris has always paid more attention to the wall length window on the other side of the room, the one that Barry will open when they’re together sometimes, taunting her with the eyes she’s sure she’s seen peeking through their blinds and his. The bed sits on a platform facing front, a television mounted on the wall above a stand that holds his game consoles and a few other knick knacks. But on the other side, there’s a bookshelf, above which hangs a mirror. Of course Iris has known it was there, has looked into it as she’s done her makeup or straightened one of Barry’s stolen shirts on her. But it looks almost dangerous now, only in that she can only imagine what Barry has planned for it. In the mirror, she can see all of her. It’s not an extremely large mirror, but it spans the length of the bookshelf and it’s just high enough that, on the bed, Iris can see both of their bodies.

“Barry?” she questions as she looks over her shoulder at him.

“I know you like it when other people watch,” he says, and she almost rolls her eyes at the smug, laughing look on his face. “But I want you to watch you right now. To see yourself the way I do; to see why I felt so compelled to come to you that first night.”

Iris’s lips quirk up slightly. “I didn’t look like this the first night you saw me.”

“I’ve got a great imagination,” Barry winks.

Ignoring his statement,

(but not the way her heart fills with love for him, the kind that sits heavy in her chest, bold and open; the kind that stays strong in her belly, flipping and fluttering and always present; the kind that dips low in her sex, warm and wet and wanting)

Iris turns back to the mirror and catalogs what she sees: her naked body cocooned in his fully clothed one; her brown eyes bright with anticipation, his darkened with barely disguised lust. There are still traces of her lipstick on her full mouth, and some of it is on Barry too, a look that shouldn’t be as arousing as it is. The fabric of his clothes are so soft on her bare skin, and the warmth of the heat through the room only serves to heighten her desire. Barry moves her hands, throws them over either side of his thighs, and uses his to open her legs; the move puts her even more on display, the gold necklace she’s been wearing all day nestled in between her breasts, her belly taut, the pinkish brown lips of her pussy already slick.

Barry circles a hand gently around her throat at the same time that he palms the inside of one of her thighs, holding her open, rubbing gently at her skin.

“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” Barry says to her, whispers it, his voice soft in her ear. “I admit I was drunk that first night, but I saw you and it was like, like the entire world came into focus. I think my body knew I would love you before the rest of me could even deny it. And, by some miracle, I got you to take me home with you.”

He touches her lightly on her neck and then moves down, the tips of his fingers feeling on her breasts until he circles a nipple. She gasps, the sound more like a low moan, and Barry smiles at it.

“You were so responsive,” he explains. “I’ve never seen anything like the way you respond to me; it’s so electrifying, baby.”

He circles one nipple with the rough pad of his fingers, pinches at it until it fully hardens, the action almost painful in that she needs more. He moves to the other nipple, does the same thing, and Iris grinds her hips, hoping to move the hand still gliding on her thigh closer to where she always wants him.

“It can be the slightest touch,” he continues, running his nails down the space between her breasts. She proves his point, whimpering a little as he glides down to her belly, and then up again, adding a finger as he goes down once more, and then up. It should not feel like this, such an innocuous move. But he’s right; she’s so responsive to him. This ghost of a touch, just the barest hint of his fingers on her, and she’s heated, her thighs quaking, her sex fluttering.

“Barry,” she sighs, catching her gaze through the mirror. He licks those pink lips, eyes honed in on her, and in that moment, she sees that it is mutual. However true it is that she so easily reacts to him, he is not unaffected. He is, just as much as she is, the truth of it right there in his wrecked countenance: the burning gray of his eyes, the pink flush of his cheeks, the colorful bunch of the tattoos on his arm as he holds her tight.

“I’m in love with this pussy, too,” he mumbles into her neck, his pale hands moving to grip her thighs. The sight of it is a touch obscene, his lightly tanned skin on the umber of hers, his long fingers pressing into her flesh. He doesn’t touch her sex, not right away. Instead, he squeezes her thighs before repeating his pattern of running his fingers up and down, up and down again.

“Look at it,” Barry groans, and she watches his gaze go down to her before she looks at herself. She knows her own body, but Iris has never looked at herself like this, has never spread her legs in front of a mirror when her lips were wet like this, flushed red like this, puckered open as if begging for the stretch of his cock.

“Look at how pretty you are, baby.” His voice sounds like music to her. “Look at how slick you get for me; how open you get for me.”

“Bear,” Iris moans.

He chuckles. “I know. I wanna fuck you right now too.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I’m not finished playing.”

Iris gripes at that, throwing her head back on his shoulder and canting her hips toward his hand.

“No, be a good girl for me, Iris.” Those nimble fingers inch toward the middle of her. “Be a good girl and keep looking while I finish playing.”

He waits until she looks back at the mirror and then he starts. That first touch to her sends electricity coursing through her. He swipes a finger straight up the middle of her slit and she jerks, followed quickly by a limb-loosening moan when Barry sucks the digit in his mouth.

“I love the taste of it,” Barry says.

He reaches back down again, uses his index and ring fingers to hold her open and then dips his middle finger into her. He fucks that finger into her slowly, rubbing against her walls as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of her, gathering the slick of her on that finger.

“I love the feel of it.”

He shifts to use all three of those fingers, dipping them in her wet and rubbing them over her. This is where he finds his rhythm. Iris catches, and this time holds, the sight of them in the glass. Her hair is a curly mess, the strands hanging loose and tangled around her head. Her lips are swollen from how often she keeps tugging the bottom one between her teeth, her chest heaving as she prays for release. In all of that, Iris swears she’s glowing, eyes darkened and alight, her entire body lit with pleasure, bringing out the honeyed undertones in her skin. She looks raw. She looks fucked. She looks like a woman who sings out whenever she can, you woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me.

And Barry holds on to her, fingers moving a little erratically, going between fucking his fingers into her and massaging her swollen clit with his wet fingers. All of it is, a lot, the way his fingers look slicker and slicker until she’s dripping down onto his wrists, the way that their different skin colors seem to matter right now only in how erotic the contrast looks right now.

“Come, baby,” Barry says. “And watch yourself.”

She does, watches herself as she comes, watches Barry watch her as she does. And it’s as beautiful as he says. Because she looks like a woman drowning in bliss, a woman draped in desire, the look of it hugging like a second skin. She looks like the way women might be described in romance novels, so satisfied she can’t think of anything other than being wrapped up in the man giving her the satisfaction. She looks like the woman in some fantasy or dream, ascending the clouds, spread out and open in an expanse of blue. She sings it in her head, you school me, give me things to think about; invite me, you ignite me, co-write me, you love me, you like me; incite me to chorus, at the same time that she sings out loud, “god, Bear, baby yes,” her eyes fluttering closed at only the very last minute.

“I love you,” Barry tells her, after, as she blinks through the haze of her orgasm.

With low, shaky limbs, she turns around, crawling on top of him and pulling him out of his sweatpants only enough that she can slide down the length of his dick. He stretches her, even as wet as she is, her cream coating him. Then he wraps his arms around her, pulling her down to him, all the way until there is only the ocean blue shade of his eyes filling her gaze, so different from the molten whiskey of hers, though nothing in Iris doubts that the same expression shines in both of them: that of a craving for this to last until the last breath shudders from their bodies, that of the love that she hopes makes that dream come true.

“I love you too, Barry.”

And this time, they only watch each other, reading each other, their climax hurtling toward them with the sort of rugged elegance that has always accompanied her idea of love. It’s bliss, la, la, la; da, da, da; do, do, do.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So Iris, tell me,” Alexa May starts. Iris inclines her head as she awaits Alexa’s question, the other woman’s gaze kind and curious. “Are any of the stories on your blog particularly personal to you?” James Broderick nods his head at the question.

“Well, they’re all personal to me,” Iris tells her with a side grin. “But I assume you’re asking if one of the stories I’ve written is particular to my life?”

“Exactly,” Alexa gives her her own smirk.

Iris shakes her head, pauses for a minute as she decides how much she wants to say on a widespread television

“None of them are,” she says, carefully. “But I’m working on one.”

Both Alexa and James’s blue eyes light with interest.

“Oh really?” James questions.

Alexa leans toward her, crossing her slim legs and settling her elbows on her thighs. “Is it a love story?”

“It is,” Iris laughs softly. “It’s a story still being written, so I don’t want to give too much away. But I can tell you that it’s about two people who’ve found something neither had been particularly expecting. It’s about two people who’ve struggled to find acceptance in different ways, to fight through the pain they’ve experienced. It’s about two people who feel into each other’s lives in one of the easiest ways possible, like puzzle pieces clicking or locks being secured or some other metaphor for two people who just… fall into place.” There’s a round of sweet chuckles from Alexa and some of the other guests. “Most importantly, though, it’s about two people who’ve stumbled right into something out of a storybook, something that can only be described as love.”

There is a pause. And then Alexa sighs. “God, that’s beautiful.”

Iris presses a hand to her heart, trying to keep in the surge of emotion that floods through her in that moment.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “So are we.”

“And there you have it, viewers,” James says, pulling the attention away. “Keep a lookout for that love story on What a Life You’ve Lived. Thank you all so much for watching. We’ll be right back.”

You're different and special

You're different and special in every way imaginable

You love me from my hair follicles to my toenails

You got me feeling like the breeze, easy and free and lovely and new

Oh when you touch me I just can't control it

When you touch me, I just can't hold it

The emotion inside of me, I can feel it

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen

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