#seth rollins fanfic

[riptides-n-roses]

dirty secret - seth rollins (18+)

⛧ pair - seth rollins (architect era) x reader

⛧ warnings: unprotected p in v, biting, hickeys, trying not to get caught, cre@mpie, consensual sex, little hint of fluff, hate sex. (Honestly idk if this contains angst but i'll go ahead and add this as a warning)

⛧ he's an absolute cutie and i feel that he should have some smut written about him too; i will say right now that this is taken place around 2015 authority era. so imagine rollins in his architect character with the championship. :)

⛧ after seth rollins costed you a win for the championship, you've started to hate his guts and he hated yours too. but what if the two of you were hiding something...

⛧word count: 1.7K

Backstory:

You were one of the top babyfaces of WWE and heavily adored by the audience. The way you competed against female superstars always caught their attention. You were insanely talented with your move-sets and your finisher (which was a double arm grab curb stomp.) However, The Authority took notice of this, including the WWE world-heavyweight champion, Seth Rollins.

One night, you had a match against Nikki Bella for the Divas Championship. As soon as you were about to hit your iconic finisher, Rollins came out to the ring, leaving you confused and distracted, not realizing that Nikki was rolled under the ring, and her twin sister, Brie Bella, disguised as her. You shrugged and went back to your match. However, Brie quickly rolled you over for the cover.

1...

2...

3...

It was over. Nikki Bella is still the Divas Champion. After Nikki and Brie leave the ring to celebrate her victory, you sat in the ring with disbelief. But also, pure anger. You turned your attention to Rollins who was still watching you from the titantron, with a shit-eating grin on his face, proud that he prevented you from reaching a milestone you worked hard for. The audience roared with excitement as you quickly left the ring and made your way to Rollins, delivering a slap across the face. He was stunned as you left the arena.

Backstage, you were stopped by the Authority to ask you something.

“Y/N, we’ve been taking notice of you and your moves and we’ve got to say. You are talented.” Stephanie spoke, looking you up and down with a smile.

“Um…Thanks?” Your tone was full of confusion. “But, No Offense at all, why are you speaking to me about that?”

“Well Y/N…” Triple H chimed “You see, The Authority always does what’s best for business. And we’ve agreed that the newest member…should be you.”

Your eyes widened. You? A member of The Authority? You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You’re already a loveable superstar with the audience. Why change that now for absolute power?

“I…I don’t know. I’m already happy with where I am. The WWE Universe seems to agree too. I wouldn’t give that away with all due respect. Besides, I refuse to be in the same group as Seth Rollins who’s literally ruined my opportunity tonight to be a champion.” You wanted to puke mentioning that name.

“We understand your frustration.” Stephanie replied. “But, it wasn’t our decision for him to prevent that. That’s why we’re here to bring an offer.”

“And what would that be?”

“You. In The Authority. If you join us, you can have any opportunity you could ask for. We’ll even get you your deserved rematch for the Divas Championship with any qualifications that you desire. All it takes is for you to do what’s Best. For. Business.”

Stephanie’s words seemed to give you some interest, your thoughts hypnotized with visions of you under the faction. You raised your eyebrows with excitement but also anxiety. Were you willing to give away everything you achieved just because you’ve always dreamed to be champion? Were you going to fall trap to their words? Were you…going to turn heel?

Before you could speak, an angry Seth Rollins storms in to where you and the Authority were, demanding an answer from you.

“What the actual hell, Y/N?” he yelled. “Do you not understand who you’re dealing with? I’m Seth freakin’ Rollins!”

“AND?! You think I care?” you screamed back at him. “You cost me the match I’ve busted my ass for. And for what? That should’ve been ME with the championship! And I would’ve been champion right now if it wasn’t for you ruining it you son of a bitch!”

Your words echoed all through backstage, the audience cheering, chanting your name around the arena. The Authority were shocked with your recent change in behavior. You’ve never spoken like that before and it shocked many. You and Rollins began to stare each other down, both of you delivering cold stares to each other’s faces. You shook with absolute anger while staring him down. You hated him. He hated you. But the WWE Universe seemed to grab an interest with this heated moment between you two, hoping an intergender match would come to be to settle your new feud with the heavyweight champion.

.•°☆.⋆｡⋆☆•˚｡⋆｡˚•☆˚｡⋆.☆•°.⋆

Present:

Another episode of Monday Night Raw had arrived. Tonight, you had a match with Paige to gain momentum to have your rematch with Nikki Bella for the Divas Championship. Seth Rollins, on the other hand, had a match with Randy Orton, after he betrayed him last week during a handicap match with Roman Reigns. The question was…where were you? And where was Seth Rollins? No one knew your whereabouts neither his. Anytime there was a text or call, neither of you answered. When Monday Night Raw started, Stephanie came out to make an address to the WWE Universe.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Monday Night Raw! Tonight, there’s going to be matches with superstars you all love and new opportunities to be brought to the table. But, there is a huge problem. Y/N and your WWE World-heavyweight champion, Seth Rollins- “the WWE Universe booed to his name, making Stephanie laugh a bit. “They’re not here! We’ve been trying to get in contact with the two superstars and nothing has been done now. However, that doesn’t mean any changes. The Authority is confident that Rollins and Y/N WILL be here tonight. We’ll do everything we can to have them perform. With that said, ENJOY THE SHOW!”

The WWE Universe, including the staff and locker rooms, were confused as to why you and Seth were missing. You never missed any day away from Raw before. So why tonight?

The truth was you and Rollins were at the arena. However, what no one knew was that you and Seth were in his locker room, leaving hot breathy kisses all over each other as you bounced on his hard cock.

“F-fuck Seth…” you moaned, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. Seth had a tight grip on your ass while the other hand was around your hip. His groans making you even wetter.

“Good girl. Take every inch of my cock like the slut you are.” He muttered, his grip on your ass getting tighter, white knuckles forming. He was enjoying how you took his length, his tip always hitting your spot with each thrust.

“Y-you know…The Authority’s not going to like this.” You whined, not wanting him to stop fucking you like this. His thrusts were deep and slow, making sure your walls will remember his shape.

“Oh, shut up. They’re not going to do anything. Besides, this will be our little dirty secret.” He replied, his face going up to one of your breasts, roughly sucking on some skin. You gasped from how he sunk his teeth into your flesh, leaving bite marks and hickeys all over your breasts – you were lucky to have ring gear that didn’t show your breasts or cleavage.

“Fuck, baby…” He groaned “Why haven’t we been doing this before?” His hands now grab your ass as he thrusts a little faster. You threw your head back, covering your screams with one hand so neither of you would get caught.

“You…You know I still hate your guts, right?” you giggled, making Rollins deliver a hard slap across your ass, earning a whine from your lips.

“I hate you too…but why do I love this so damn much?” He asked with breathy moans, “You’re still a little brat. Don’t forget that.”

“I could care less…fuck right there…You’re still an asshole”

“I know, sweetheart. Now be quiet and take this dick like a good little bitch.”

As much as you both hated to admit it, you both drove each other crazy, sexually and in a weird sort of way romantically too. But that would’ve been way too soon. Besides what would the WWE Universe think if they found out about your hidden relationship? Seth Rollins, a total heel who’s also a huge asshole. You, an adored babyface who deserves to be champion. You two could never let them find out. Not now and not anytime soon.

You lost your thought when you felt another slap on your ass from Seth, his thrusts getting sloppy. You knew he was going to cum. You hope he came inside of you, to remind you about your secret. Only he could fuck you this good and make you never want to stop things with him. You’d do crazy shit for him if you wanted to.

“Baby…I’m getting close. I’m going to cum in you.” He growled as his thrusts get faster, earning high pitched moans from your lips. He fucks you way too good.

“M-Me too…” You were shaking, desperately to cum your stomach tightening for release.

“I know baby…Remember we got to be quiet. We don’t want no one finding this out do we?”

You shut him up by pressing your lips against his – muffled moans as he came in your pussy, you following him, his arms holding your hips down tightly as he rode out his orgasm. His warm cum leaking out of you made you beg for more. You stayed on top of him, his cock still inside of your cunt as you looked into his eyes, he gave you that same cocky smile like he did that night.

“Fuck, baby…You drained me like that. I don’t know if I’ll have enough energy for my match tonight.” He laughed, leaving another slap on your ass cheek. You giggled as you wiggled your ass, your cunt throbbing from how sensitive you were.

“Same here…How are we supposed to tell everyone where we were?” You asked, your breaths were hoarse.

“We don’t. And this stays between us. Understood?”

“Whatever you say, asshat.”

You and Seth looked into each other’s eyes, with a stare down, heavy breathing coming from the both of you. As you laid your head in the crook of his neck, he played with some strands of your hair, admiring you.

“You know…I been meaning to ask you. Are you still mad at me for costing you a title match?” he mocked.

“Hmm…maybe.” You chuckled, surprised that he recognized that he was wrong for that.

“How about…I take you out for dinner and eat your cunt as an apology?” he offered “Besides, we need to get ready for our matches.”

“Hm…Sounds like a plan” You replied.

You raised your head and smiled at him before giving him another kiss

“Even though we’re supposed to hate each other, I actually like you.”

[imaginexwwe]

HIS GIRL - Roman Reigns

JUST SOMETHING I HAD SITTING IN MY DRAFTS SINCE LAST YEAR ✍😅 MY FRIEND WHO'S NOT ON HERE AND DOESN'T WRITE HELPED WITH THE SEMI SPICY PART LOL 🤣

•

REAL NAMES WILL BE USED JUST CAUSE

•

Y|N AND JOE HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS SINCE MIDDLE SCHOOL AND HAVE EVEN FOOLED AROUND OCCASIONALLY BUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP SOON CHANGES WHEN NEW BOY COLBY LOPEZ ARRIVES

•

"I should get going, Joe." Y|N giggled, trying to wiggle out of his grip causing the guy next to her to tighten his grip. "Joseph, let go."

"I don't want you to go."

And I don't want to leave.

Y|N sighed.

Her lips slowly turning upwards into a smile as she unknowingly sunk deeper into his muscular arms.

Just hearing Joe say he didn't want her to leave made her stomach do backflips.

But she knew she had to stop herself before she got too deep in her feelings.

Like who was she kidding?

Joseph's her bestfriend.

Has been her best friend since the day they met when she was the new girl in school.

The first day of seventh grade, to be exact.

It was only recently that they had decided to give in to the temptation that had began lingering over them since their junior year of high school, and had, had sex.

It was Y|N's first time.

Not so much Joe's.

Of course, the man's like every girl's fantasy at school.

But that's beside the point.

Y|N had swore up and down that night she had allowed Joe to take her virginity that she could handle her emotions, and not be one of those clingy girls that all of a sudden wanted more than no strings attached.

Those girls that would ultimately find themselves wanting a relationship.

Wanting said bestfriend to be theirs and only theirs.

When deep down she had quickly became that girl.

All because she wanted her bestfriend to make her feel the way he had made those other girls feel.

It just so happen, Y|N was good at hiding how she felt.

But then there would be times like now, when Joe would say things like 'I don't want you to go.'

Something so simple that would only make Y|N long for something more, even more.

Get yourself together, before you ruin everything.

With another sigh, Y|N began wiggling again. "It's the night before the first day of senior year, Joe. I have to go home and get some sleep."

"Sleep here." Joe quickly replied, with a chuckle as he leaned over to nip at the skin on my neck, almost immediately causing me to close my eyes, and bit down on my lips. "Please."

Y|N shook her head, trying to fight off the urge to moan, as Joe's hand began to slide further and further down her body. "I have no clothes." She quickly blurted out, trying to think of any excuse to be let go.

"Wear something of mines." Joe countered with a smirk as his hand stopped. "You love stealing my stuff all the other times."

"My dads will be pissed." Y|N gasped out, feeling Joe's finger come in contact with her folds. "I'm not about to show up on the first day of my senior year dressed like you. And I know if I stay I won't be getting much sleep."

"Are you serious?" Joe questioned, looking over at Y|N in disbelief. "You really want to go? Right now?" His grip now loosened from around Y|N waist.

No!

"Well..." Y|N stuttered out, rolling over so that she could face Joe. "Maybe I can be a little late. But we have to be quick."

"No promises." She heard her bestfriend say, smirking, as he gripped Y|N's face, pulling her in for a kiss.

This boy will be the death of me.

•

"Looks like you and Joe had a good time." Trinity said, nudging Y|N with her elbow as she, Y|N and their other friend Liv walked down the hall at the end of school.

"Is it really noticeable..?" Y|N blushed, already knowing her friend was referring to the hickey Joe had marked her with last night when they were going for round two. "I was up at six this morning covering this thing up."

Thank goodness the other three are in a place they won't see, Y|N thought, giggling to herself.

Liv shrugged, playfully rolling her eyes at her friend. "Well, it looks like you need a touch up."

"I'll put more on in the ca-"

Before Y|N could finish what she was saying, a male voice was heard calling out to her.

"Who's he?" Liv was the first to ask, as the three girls turned their attention to the unrecognizable boy calling out to Y|N.

"Oh..." Y|N spoke with a smile. "The new guy, Colby. He just moved to Florida from Iowa."

Trinity laughed, eyeing her friend. "And how do you know all of this?" She asked, taking note of the instantaneous smile that formed on Y|N's face.

"He's in my first and second period."

And before either one of her friends could think of anything else to say or question her about, Y|N had walked off heading over to Colby.

•

"Is that Y|N?" Joe heard his cousin Jonathan ask as him and Jon's younger twin brother Joshua turned a corner in school, heading for the double doors to leave out the school building.

Joe stopped in his tracks, looking in the direction that his younger cousin was looking.

Seeing none other than Y|N.

And some guy he didn't know.

"Who's that guy she's talking to?"

"Oh, that's the new guy, Cory." Jon answered.

"It's Colby." Josh spoke up, correcting his brother. "He's the new kid from Iowa. He's in first period with me and Y|N."

Joe nodded, his eyes locked on his bestfriend as she was deep in conversation with Colby.

Even when Joe tried to tear his eyes away, he couldn't.

And for some reason, the longer he watched the more his blood began to boil.

Wait, why was his blood boiling?

Y|N's talked to guys other than him and his cousins before.

Hell she's even dated guys before.

She's even been out a few times with guys since they began fooling around.

And Joe's never had a problem before.

But then again, he's never had to watch Y|N talk to a guy other than him, his family and a few mutual guy friends.

People that went to school here knew Y|N was Joe's.

And because of that she was off limits.

So, he most definitely didn't want to start having to watch some clueless ass new guy step on his territory.

Now that he's got a good thing going on with her.

As if someone was controlling him, Joe had quickly made his way over to where Y|N stood, laughing with the new guy, Colby.

"Hey, beautiful." He greeted Y|N, leaning down giving Y|N a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

That's my girl, Joe thought smirking into the kiss as Y|N almost immediately kissed back.

•

Okay.

What.

The.

Fuck?

Y|N slowly pulled away from the kiss, her hand on Joe's chest as she pushed him back.

Where did that come from?

She could feel heat rising to her face as she stood there for a second or two trying to catch her breath after Joe's spontaneous tongue filled kiss.

And 'hey beautiful?'

When did Joe start addressing her as beautiful?

Don't get it wrong, Joe has always been the main guy to call her beautiful or make her feel beautiful but that was maybe when Y|N was showing off a new outfit or you know, when they're having sex or whatever.

But addressing by saying beautiful?

That's new.

She wasn't even sure if he's ever even addressed her as babe, or even baby before.

So why now?

Y|N looked up at Joe for the first time since he came over to her and stuck his tongue down her throat seeing a new emotion that she's never seen before.

Jealousy.

Joseph was jealous over something I was doing?

Could he be feeling the things I've been feeling for him lately, for me?

"I'm sorry about that, Colby." Y|N said embarrassingly as she tried to focus her attention on her new friend, while also taking notice of how close Joe was pulling her in to him. "This is Joe."

"Colby." The guy she's only met this morning during class said a smile on his face as he stretched out a balled up fist to Joe seemingly to give him a fist bump.

Joe nodded, ignoring Colby's gesture. "I heard Y|N." He mumbled turning to Y|N dropping his arm from around Y|N's waist. "I'm ready to go."

Y|N nodded taking note of his tone.

It wasn't something she liked considering it didn't seem like the Joseph she'd known since she was twelve.

But at the same time he was her ride home and because of her being unable to say no to a second round with Joe last night, she was on the verge of being grounded by her dads after coming home half an hour after her curfew.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She said to Colby, before turning and walking off with Joe.

•

Joe walked to his car, an slightly angry Y|N leading the way as she stomped ahead, her arms crossed over her chest.

This is gonna be a long ride.

Seeing Y|N had reached his car before him, Joe used his key fob to unlock the car giving her access.

About a minute later, Joe had finally gotten settled in the car and had thrown his backpack in the backseat next to Y|N's.

"What the hell was that?" He heard Y|N ask, her head snapping in his direction as he put his key in the ignition, starting his car engine. "And don't ask what like you don't know I'm talking about you shoving your damn tongue down my throat."

"I thought you loved my tongue." Joe fake gasped, pretending to be hurt bu Y|N insinuating she didn't enjoy their kiss.

Y|N blushed, rolling her eyes. "I do love your tongue Joe." She replied. "But that's not what I mean."

"Then I'm confused."

"You've never done something like that at school, Joe. That's what I'm trying to say." Y|N tried explaining, hoping Joe was catching on to what she was saying or trying to say.

"I've never had to." Joe replied, glancing over at his bestfriend. "I've never felt like someone was threatening me."

Y|N scoffed. "How was Colby threatening you? All he was doing was talking to me."

"I don't know." Joe mumbled. "It's just everybody at school knows you're mine but here comes some new kid and he's basically flirting with you." He added. "I just wanted him to know you're my girl."

"Really?"

"Really, Y|N." Joe quickly answered, unaware of the way Y|N thought he meant when he said she was his girl.

Joe did mean it when he said Y|N was his girl.

He won't even deny that he's got actual romantic feelings for her to anyone, other than Y|N herself.

But he didn't mean it as he plan to stop seeing his other flings.

After all him and Y|N had an understanding.

And him getting jealous didn't mean much right?

As long as Y|N kept her romances out of his sight and she stayed away from that new kid, this thing between him and his bestfriend was good.

•

Y|N smiled, while also side eying her bestfriend.

She wasn't stupid.

Which was why she knew Joe hadn't meant that she was his in a way she'd hoped he'd meant.

But that was fine.

Cause atleast now Y|N knew Joe had enough feelings for her that he would get jealous over her simply talking to a guy.

After all he wouldn't have gotten jealous over someone he just saw as a friend who he enjoyed having sex with from time to time...

Right?

One thing's for sure Y|N had more hope in this moment than she did last night when they were together.

[architect-2015]

I’VE GOT YOUR BACK

Alex León is a well know name in the independent wrestling scene, having earned the nickname The Prophecy of Professional Wrestling. Alex and Seth have been married for three years but never confirmed their relationship with the public so when Baron Corbin started bad mouthing his wife Seth couldn’t hold back, Alex watching from afar realised the true intentions of ‘the sassy southern belle’ and finally found her place in the WWE.

January 6th 2019 -

Nashville Tennessee

“Thank you Alex! Thank you Alex! Thank you Alex!” Alex León is making her final walk around the ringside applauding, having just dropped the title to Taya Valkyrie in a gruelling match at Impact Wrestling Homecoming.

“An emotional Alex León making her final rounds here at Impact. This women is the definition of what it means to be an Impact Knockouts Champion, she has followed through with her promise and cemented her legacy in this company but she had a Prophecy to for fill somewhere else and we wish her the best of luck!” the commentary team announce.

Many rumours have spread about Alexandria not renewing her contract, having been in the company since 2013 she felt the need for a change.

With tears welling in her eyes, taking one final bow the programme closes with the last walk for Alex León backstage.

————————

Alexandria after taking her leave from Impact has been sending sometime at home, the days have been lonely without her husband and no wrestling as a distraction so like many people social media had taken up the majority of her time.

Pointlessly scrolling through twitter an article catches her attention:

‘Baron Corbin Chooses Lacey Evans As Guest Referee, Monday Night Raw Higlights 06/17/19’

León glances down at her wedding ring with a subtle look of confidence, exiting twitter she opens a contact typing out only one sentence…

I’ve got your back.

———

Wednesday 19th of June 2019

week of Stomping grounds

Stepping out of the car, Alex looks up to meet the deep brown eyes of her husband. A warm hand wraps it’s self around her waist pulling her into a loving embrace.

“Mrs Lopez i have missed you so much.” is the phrase that Alexandria feels rumble in her husbands chest, her bottom lip quivers knowing this reunion is months in the making.

“I can’t do this anymore, the distance i mean. I can’t keep waking up alone in bed. Practically me not working is a problem and i love my job i really do but i can’t keep being so far away from you, i just can’t do it. I need you” Alex let’s out a chocked sob as she repeats the words she had been dwelling on for the duration on the drive.

Instinctively Colby glanced down, his eyes drowning in sympathy, he knows the feeling. Lifting his hand to wipe away a stray tear.

“Stay here then baby, stay with me. I need you too, more then i could ever express in words. Stay here and we can make sure your work is valued for the talent you showcase, i’ll make sure nothing goes wrong” Colby pleads knowing they had to have this conversation, if Lexi retires then the idea would be completely out of the window…

———

Saturday June 23rd 2019

Tacoma Dome - Tacoma, Washington.

Lacey evans stood face to face with a very frustrated Seth Rollins, she had been changing and bending rules in Corbin’s favour and it was obvious it was getting to him. Suddenly Rollins’ face is flying left, she had slapped him!

“omg.. and here’s Baron Corbin trying to take advantage!” Spinning Seth around Baron tried to capitalise on the distraction only to meet a blow to his jaw leaving his slumped on the ropes for support.

“OH! A LOW BLOW BY THE OFFICIAL!”

The beginning beats of ‘Prophecy by Queensryche’ hits the arenas speakers, the crowd arrupts with cheers as a familiar red head charges down the ramp.

“IS IT? IT IS, COREY ITS ALEX LÈON THE FORMER IMAPCT KNOCKOUTS CHAMPION! SHES HERE IN THE WWE!”

“Why is Alex Lèon here? she isn’t part of this match?” Corey announces beside a very happy Renee Young and Micheal Cole.

Sliding into the ring Alex pounces on Lacey Evans throwing combinations of punches and slaps to the blonde.

“ALEX LÈON IS ASSAULTING EVANS, ALEX LÈON IS TAKING OUT THE OFFICIAL! ITS NO DISQUALIFICATION, ALEX CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL SHE WANTS TO DO!”

Alex and Lacey take the brawl outside of the ring, the sassy southern belle is sprawled out on the floor after being in the receiving end of a ‘final chapter’ (an exploder suplex) when officials and security try to tear Lèon from Evans.

Whilst in the firm grip of many security men, Alexandria looks though the ropes to see her husband of three years reverse an ‘end of days’ to hit a stomp.

1. 2. 3.

“SETH ROLLINS RETAINS WITH THE HELP OF A DEBUTING ALEX LÈON! WHAT A MOMENT!”

The wife joins her husband in the ring, raising his arm in victory. Seth couldn’t wait any longer, wrapping his arms around her waist he lifts his spouse into the air placing a delicate kiss on her lips. Whispers can be seen being shared between the couple as the crowd explodes with cheers.

“you did good baby, you did so good”

“Sweetheart, i told you i got you’re back.”

———

[litaskick]

• seth rollins masterlist •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ ☆ } smut

masterlist • request page • prompt list

tattoos

jealousy, jealousy

[eringobragh420]

TAGLIST

Trying to get my taglist together! So ... if you'd like to be tagged when I post a new story/part to a story, please reply to this post or message me. Please specify if you'd only like to be tagged for certain characters. Thank you so much! A list of characters I write for can be found here. Thank you, angels! YOU WILL NOT BE ADDED UNLESS YOU COMMENT ON THIS POST.

[upupsethrollins]

[scumbag4scumbag]

This one's for the gays... (queers, bis, pans, trans, etc)

Gonna run this poll for a week... this IS for actual reasons, so please vote... Going on the honor system that queer folks only will vote, but I know there's no way to know for sure, so please be nice.

[ms-wwe]

POV: Watching the new Mr. McMahon documentary on Netflix and realizing Vince is just the P. Diddy of wrestling and did these poor people wrong for y e a r s s s

[joannasteez]

tanks of blood (7) - eighteen is dangerous

pairing: biker!roman reigns x black reader warning: lots of teenage angst. descriptions of body insecurity. descriptions of alcohol consumption and reckless behavior (getting in a pool while drunk is very reckless, don't do that please!!) consensual underage intimacy (just a kiss!) reader is going through it unfortunately, sorry authors note: this is a flashback. reader is eighteen and roman is nineteen. word count: 7300 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @sortudademais @gg-trini @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce

eighteen is a dangerous age to be alive. all of your almost adult thoughts and ideas and intentions strewn together by wild, colorful imagination, but, at times, for the sake of another. in front of your mirror, picking at your hair and pinching the elastic of a maybe too tight swim suit. the back cut out to reveal skin and your legs thicker now than they were last summer. frustration brimming harsh in your blood so well it's knotting in your throat. tears pricking your eyes. doom in your bones. because, fucking boys and their oh so amazing pool parties. water every place you step and the torment of maybe getting thrown in for shitty amusement. beer bottles floating everywhere and just-finished-with-high-school-teenagers too lightweight to hold their stomachs. not that you're any better. but at least you know that much about yourself. the pool, party and house courtesy of seth and the kegs of beer to come courtesy of dean no doubt. a friend of a friend of his who wants clout with the club so badly that he swiped his card on kegs for underaged leather bound boys. fucking men. 

and seth's guest bedroom is hot. sweltering so much that it nearly leaves you damp with sweat. your fingers undone with a trembling ache as you pull a pair of shorts over your thighs. overthinking on over drive. because he and his cousins and the rest of the "vip's" have yet to make an appearance. the common people waiting with bated breath for their loud, grimy noise filled entrance. a rumbling, chaotic spectacle filled with air's and aura's of a specific importance and nature that you'll always find too high maintenance to keep up with. but that's why eighteen is such a terrible time, despite maybe your exaggerations about the angst of it. this weird refurbishing of the soul. his mighty self importance aside, romans thoughts and opinions mattering now much more than they used to. your eyes yours still, brown and "shaped so prettily", as your mother likes to say, but not really. going about a constant examination for someone else. shaped against your face perfectly but living outside to look inward too. 

because would he like what you've done with your hair? the earrings you've decided on for the night? the way the swimsuit cuts out at the back? toes painted a different color from your fingernails but oddly cute all the same, because you couldn't be bothered with changing the shade. your tummy not as flat as last year and that scar still embedded in the center of your palm. eyes working for you but at the service of another. him. yes. eighteen is goddamn dangerous. 

that sweet silver necklace he gave you sometime ago. eyes all nervous and his fingers shaky as it clasped the lock of it before you kissed him. a warmth to his skin you never knew existed till that moment. the cool of the metal resting on your skin. dipping low a bit more than usual. the swimsuit made with built in cups. accentuating indeed. because swiping for it at the register of the sports store was easy. naomi at your side smiling bright and excited with a matching style in a different color. the try on process quick and sure with a good natured finality because her eyes were different. lacking that air of intense appraisal. a girls girl for you in the truest sense. her eighteen and your eighteen so similar sometimes. her dealings with jimmy like yours with roman. 

a knock against the bedroom, like a warning, before naomi bursts through. red solo cups in hand and a frustration running lines into her face. long, waist length braids, ponytailed up and away from her face. the bright neon of her swimsuit wet, and her legs dripping some on the carpet. 

you shift quick from the mirror. a creeping heat in your cheeks rising till it settles about your forehead. heart hammering before it plummets to your empty belly. the idea of somebody, anybody, finding you amidst such a vulnerable moment of self brought on scrutiny, absolutely troubling. embarrassing even. a damn scary state of affairs that nearly makes all the doubts and uncertainties breathe harder, heavier. with a better purpose. 

"you went to the pool?"

plopping to lay against the made bed. the fluff of the sheets comfortable despite the heat. maybe even comfortable enough to stay laid up against. a decision that feels more and more appetizing by the second. 

she stands just near the mirror where you'd been, setting down the cups to readjust her hair. a strong presence living along with her reflection. unflinching and sure and at ease. "i took a dip. enough not to get my hair wet", she starts. still corralling the long waist length hair. "i was tryin to wait around for you but somebody decided to abandon me last minute to come up here", giving a pointed look through the mirror. slivers of guilt slipping under your skin. but her fuss of it doesn't last very long, eyes rolling as she dips into an annoyance. "they all down there standin around all brainless n'shit, like they need to be told when to get in the pool. half of them is only here just to say they came anyways...". her steps shuffling over the carpet, cups in hand again. "...followers irk my nerves", she groans. eyes dropping quick over your body. "why are your shorts on?" 

you sit up. a quick, abrupt movement. driven by that suffocating air of hesitation you've fought with since slipping on the swimsuit. 

"should i take them off?"

and maybe naomi doesn't understand the painstaking work of such hesitation, or even if she does, it isn't shown. eyes living with all of the opposite actually. "where is this coming from? it was fine when we bought it, it's fine now", her body plopping beside yours. eyes shining with a scrutiny towards you for the first time tonight, and maybe the first time ever. but oddly enough, it doesn't burn the skin, and neither does it make your esteem shrivel. a sigh leaving her. hardened eyes, protective and familiar in their way, like you could have maybe felt them once before in another lifetime. something similar to how a sister looks to her less stronger one. "if you're worried about what he thinks, then forget his ass. he should be lucky you even lettin him breathe your air". 

and your nerves don't fall away all that quickly, but the air is less thick now. breathable. your eyes interested now in the cups she's bought. both filled with something pink, but the smell of it like that faithful burn of tequila. 

"you're right". 

she smiles."have i ever been wrong?"

your eyes rolling playfully. "no"

"exactly". shoving a cup in your hand before bursting up excited. "so sip on this and lets go mingle". 

and maybe you're like your mom about these things but "mingling" is for the fucking birds. an unexcitable process of small talk that does your head in. because no one actually cares about anything real, or different, or new, they just want to make good on first time impressions. all the real things, these scary little bits of air and unspoken moments between the words. something something, if we make the daughter of the vice president of the most infamous, illustrious, biker club in all of florida laugh and smile and twiddle her fucking thumbs, then we've made it to the inner inner ring, of the inner circle. which is a lie and a half. sweaty shoulders rubbing up at yours and the dampness nearly folding over your stomach with disgust as you follow naomi through to a less busy area of the backyard. the heat steeping in and weighing over everywhere. the crowd as idle as she said it was. hesitation in their bones as they wait for some fearless leader to make the first move of jumping in, so they of course then, can follow. 

you sip at your cup, and then nearly guzzle it the rest of the way. a cold, fruity bite to your tongue that helps ease the angst. 

your eyes peering over to the sliding door that connects the backyard and the inside of the house. like a mere gazing over would summon the not so true bane of your existence. a nineteen year old boy with a penchant for unscrewing your nerves loose. your words tongue tied when they aren't soothed into an easy quiet submission by the sweetness of his mouth. groaning little kisses that leave you frenzied and a little dazed and scared. because he has that way about him unfortunately. a lax sort of domineer. flirtatious eyes and quick little phrases that make your skin crawl something horrendous but excellent just the same. you literally despise him. mouth seeking your cup again. already at the end of your drink and feeling the hard rush in of it in your blood. warmth in your belly and a dizzying effect that loosens your anxieties. the type of buzz that asks for more. 

a small little table exists near a group of shrubs. a cloth bag nestled in a particularly thick way of leaves. your hand sticking down and into the bag to pull out a bottle of tequila. because seth said "only my buddies get the good shit", everyone else suffering with cheap beer they bought, waiting for dean and his kegs to arrive.  

 and with a harsh splash of water—some rando a little less than recklessly diving into the pool—does the party finally actualize. bodies corralling quickly in that cold wash of blue and the music a little louder. this concoction of whatever on your tongue and your urges less accounted for. 

surely this is what naomi means when she says "mingle". forgetting about yourself a little and just being. a hard task made easier when tequila doesn't give two shits about what it means to be perceived. eighteen not as dangerous when you've got liquid courage to slot a small battery in your back. 

"samir right?", his name calling sweetly on your tongue. the leaving of it gentle as you make to get closer to him. a tall-ish boy—but certainly not taller than roman—with a rich dark caramel complexion. charming hooded eyes and the cutest nose. his beer clutched for dear life in his hand like he'd maybe pay to be anywhere else. 

"uh, yeah". a cautious sort of surprise. like the possibility of speaking to him was slim to none. "how'd you know-"

"i seen you with yah dad before...", memory working amidst the alcohol. your words a little loose. stepping closer to him to get over the loud play of the music. his cologne nice in your nose. the type of scent made for double takes and "where'd you get it from?" questions. a silent wingman working as a possible conversation opener for anxious girls who maybe don't know that being this close makes for a heavier suggestion of familiarity. an intimate proximity like you know him more than just from seeing him around. "...he brings his car around my pops shop for tune ups n stuff. you look like him", and maybe the smile after that comment with the way you stand next to him implies something more than it should or more than you want it to but you don't notice. the fuzz of your brain winning the 'i dont give a fuck about being perceived' war. 

but samir is smiling and his shoulders are maybe not as slacked and bored. squared now with a new sense of purpose and open and facing you, like he's giving you the space to be as close as you'd like. like for some odd reason, if you fell into him, he'd catch you better, not that there'd be any reason for that but yeah...whatever, and the buzz is so obviously shaping your blood to run with a renewed sense of unawareness of present situations. thoughts roaming off to weird deep ends before they slip back close to where they belong. sipping at your cup again before you peer up to find him staring. a quick wandering of his earthy brown eyes, maybe at the silver of your necklace or the cup at your lips or maybe even a little below where your necklace dips in. 

samir's eyes bug. an embarrassment clinging to the shape. like he's just snatched himself out of the daze of staring at you. a throat clear that exposes the uncomfortableness in his own body at being made. "what're you drinkin?" 

"it's just juice and tequila, fruit punch i think...", taking a sip. "...beers not my thing". 

"s'not mine either", he gives. looking at his beer bottle unsatisfied. "kinda just grabbed it, cuz it's the only thing here". 

and maybe he'd have more fun if he were where you are? loose and slightly adrift. carefree amidst a sea of people who care too much. "if i say where the stash is, you won't tell right?"

"not a soul". 

your head juts, a motion for him to follow. his steps in rhythm with yours and that cologne staining his skin still flirting with your nose. like a light goading. this silent attempt to lure you into something unfamiliar. because all you know is the cool silver of this necklace, strong teasing fingers and that dark rumbling engine. the nineteen year old boy—who you don't think to name at the moment, not even in the secrecy of your thoughts—this not so true bane of your existence, is still, to you, a great big world of an almost man. tall and surrounding and new and the whole of what you feel for him still uncovered. so maybe it isn't exactly smart—even if such a rebellion lives in the name of a not so odd, half baked, tequila born, self esteem boost—to live so deeply in this state of coyness. a realization, or rather a confession, that threatens the carelessness binding your bones. 

eighteen a little dangerous still, playing loose and a little faster in your blood. because the liquid courage gives you this two-fold, uncanny, brazen sort of awareness. convictions flowing strong, parentally charged in a way that makes your ego break against it in bursting acts of rebellion. the midnight summer air sticky against the skin and baiting. the warmth like a second rushing in, a muggy air of defiance living beside the heat in your belly and the sweet flavor on your tongue. 

you push through that grouping of shrubs, revealing the hefty bottle. 

"shot?", a question but not really. more like a soft demand, styled with a smile and inviting eyes. 

the pour of it playing over samir's voice. a near drown out. "sure", he gives. the cup in his hand already before his decision can come into any finality. "cheers", the words slipping off to linger in the air like he's trying out the phrasing. like he's trying to please your excitement enough to keep it there on your lips. 

you take the stain of it on your tongue quickly. a clear burn that conquers easily on its way down. your throat humming to give it some ease but poor samir is reducing more by the seconds into a fit of coughs. the dry dirtiness of the tequila new for him. not yet to be overcome by the looseness it'll give his bones. 

you laugh. a fit of giggles living a little less than controllable. mixing a more digestible drink into his cup. something more similar to yours. "you don't drink too much huh?"

"nah", his face scrunching. expression embarrassed. "not really". 

"here", passing the cup back to him again. "try this". 

he sips at your concoction. face less screwed as the sweetness of it tempers the bitterness in his mouth. "s'pretty good", natural dark eyes a little brighter. a spark struck across them even. surely not made from janky pool lights that work no better than the old neighborhood street lamps. a courage to him that seems to settle in after he sips again. a courage that leaps with fresh legs. "you have, really, really beautiful eyes", tumbling out. unable to be stopped. the thought perhaps always there but now given the freedom to breathe. to walk and run.

"oh". dumbstruck. a load of giggling that bursts abrupt. not malicious, no. just the sort of drunken amusement caught from the suddenness of a thing. untamable almost if not for the fall of his face. making you feel awful, like shit. "i-..."

samir blinks. like he's just been un-dazed from a dream. "that was corny, i'm sorry".

"no, no, no, it's fine, i just-", your fingers trembling slightly. reaching across the little table to touch him. hands in his, to give him surety "i just-i didn't expect you to say that. thank you". 

"i'm interruptin something?" 

the question teasing as it leaves. flip flops shuffling before they flap down, smacking against the wet cement surrounding the pool. an obnoxious, creeping, entrance. it makes your blood more solid. hearing that mocking tone he gives. roman and the forever glimmer of mischief, spread about his eyes and his lips. like he's hinting the possibility of a storm. gaze drifting over your hands, the way they leave samir's, the proximity of your bodies and the ease of it. a knot in your belly, corralling in with a load of dirty little feelings. roman tall and broad. suffocatingly so. annoyingly so. like a tower. like a mountain that blocks the sun to cast a shadow. that burst of brazenness spreading fun under your skin, now tugging itself along to shuffle back into the dark nothing of a corner. but why should you have to cringe and recoil in and from your innocent fun? why couldn't you delight yourself in a little attention? was that so horrible? your arms crossing over. disruption, childlike and eager, running alongside the bold streak. 

"no". your smile tight lipped. voice bright. "just poppin samir's tequila cherry". 

samir chokes. coughs dangerously hard. roman's eyes slitting to narrow. his jaw giving a small clench before he returns your expression. a mirthless grin. "how nice. i hope he enjoyed it". 

"i think he did". 

roman's brows lift. your audaciousness funny. "lets ask". attention directing itself toward samir, who seems to be the most uncomfortable. 

"i uh", his hand setting the cup down. nervous, antsy and it irks you whole. "yeah, it was. it-it was fine". 

roman hums. shuffles up more till he's nearly flushed against your back. the fabric of his tank top blowing with the heat of the slim midnight breeze, hitting whats exposed of your skin. a reminder. your fists clenching. fucking asshole. the necklace at your chest still cool. in agreement with him. his presence this annoying, territorial claim. possessive and unwavering. your belly empty, your head swimming and frustration clinging to your nerves so well that it's stupid. because this is stupid. because annoyance shouldn't live like this, shouldn't find even ground with enjoyment so well. blood hot, something dizzy working behind your eyes. a complicated, rush of a feeling that has yet to be totally deciphered. 

"you're one of seth's buddies right?"

"yeah something like that". samir appearing less tall. shrunken in and a half step from paper frail. less willing to indulge his eyes. the interest in them gone and refusing to meet your face. and it sours whatever unnamed sweetness held for him. your curiosities gone. because allowing roman to destabilize him so easily. unbalanced and too shy for proper confidence. where was the fun, competitive edge, in that? a bold streak of something uneasy and conflicting and tricky. not simply rolling over and letting him win. thats what this was supposed to be. a riot for some damn reclamation. "i'm just gonna go", samir says. your eyes rolling as he gathers himself to leave the small safety of the table. 

you peer up at roman. the source of all this bullshit angst housed in your person. his face soft but angular somehow. tender lips existing as the object of your lingering desires. his shoulders wide and his body thick thanks to home cooked meals and too much football. your fists balling till they ache. tequila dulling the pain of your nails but doing nothing for the baseless frustration. this boy... this man... this whatever he is, so pretty and exacting and sure all the damn time. always testing and making attempts and looking. your skin less like skin and more like metal. like the tinny cold make of one of his many football trophies. and now you feel no better, no greater than samir. shrinking in and your throat tight again. dizzy and trembly. a leaf in the breeze. like you're back upstairs in seth's guest room, peering into the mirror. eyes yours, but more useful for him now. 

hate isn't too strong a word is it? your father says it sometimes. like the word is venom born, made to poison. says it and then kisses your mother anyways. kisses and hugs her and churns her indifference into pretty, wispy noise. rich and thick. honey inspired. so if that works. venom and honey. both thick and useful. then maybe they're the same. 

"you're such a dick", you cut at him. eyes rolling hard. making to step around him. but he's so tall and everywhere. a world and a half. 

and he laughs. like everything is so funny. like you're funny. a joke. sweetened tequila on the tongue. bathing your stomach. fuzzily in the brain. he thinks you're a joke. 

"how would you know, you've never seen one". 

you gasp. your shoulder trying it's hardest to check him. a barely registered move that gets you past him and closer to the pool. "ass", you yell. loud enough for people to hear. 

skin sticky. trembling still. exasperated. your feet a harsh descending as you stalk to the opposite edge of the pool. the beginning steps of the shallow end. dean there with a cup of beer in hand. hair long and already damp. 

"trouble in paradise?" 

your eyes cut. a sharp look to warn him. a deep breath as you breach the water with your foot. trying the cool of it. "your friend is a fuckin asshole", you give. 

he chuckles. like maybe he knows that to be a little true. "what'd he do?" and when you don't answer, occupied with settling into the chill of the pool, he turns his attention over to his friend. chuckling still. "what the hell did you do?"

roman flips his hand. a 'whatever' motion, like he couldn't be bothered to even care. 

your blood boils. loose and on fire. "what doesn't he do?!" loud and irritated enough for dean to hear. loud enough for roman. for seth and the twins and everyone else in between. but it doesn't stop the party. just adds to the air. to the drone of the festivities. to splashes of water, and the splatting smack of beach balls. to good feeling breezy wind and the thumping bass of music. to guys trying to flirt with girls and girls trying to quell their boyish half baked charms with coyness and shooing splashes of water. the party in full effect and alive. pulsing and balanced. and maybe you shouldn't be in the pool, all loose-brained and dizzy feeling. but the water feels good and the distance from roman is a welcomed addition. gets his cologne out of your nose and rids you of the sensation of his body along your back. 

but his mischief isn't done. stretches with a fresh awakened need to stress your nerves. the pull up and discard of his tank top a sensational performance. like he's mocking and poking and punishing you with the gasp and squeals of girls who pry at him with sharp hopeful eyes. his body dipping into the pool on the deep end before breaching up with his hair slicked back and dusting his shoulders. curling up as it meets the air all finger provoking like. 

you hate him. 

feet splashing behind you. dean stepping to sink further and further into the icy blue of the pool. a quick, resolute voice of mediation. "aaalright...", he draws out. "...none of this shitty, sulky, energy". his back to you, arms stretched out and waiting, like a human pool noodle. "hop on". 

but the water is safe here at the shallow end. close to the stairs and faraway from eyes and his prying little stare that grows more amused by the minute as you fight and fail to ignore it. "dean, i don't think thats a good—", your body up ended. water splashing as you panic. a fast jostling maneuver that forces you to grapple him as he lifts you onto his back. "dean!!!", thrilled and pissed and dazed behind the eyes still. arms and legs wrapping tight about him as he treads into the deep end. 

and he's all smiley, the little shit. "you don't got much of a choice unfortunately".

"i can't swim". 

"i know", patting the clinging wrap around of your arm. reassurance that barely makes a full registration about the body. "i ain't gonna let you drown sweets".

"sweets?"

"new nickname for you", he hums. satisfied with the ring of it.  

and you snort. set your head atop of his as he treads the water. because dean—and though it's unusual for him to fail at many things—is unfailing at pleasing his penchant for nicknaming people. you in particular. a little list of moniker's reflecting the growth of your relationship. from 'sis', at sixteen, to 'sissy' at seventeen, and then a very offhanded 'babe' for sometime. a jokey little term of affection you accepted, because the humor of it proved stupid and weird and annoying for roman. always silently bristling about it. these wordless little shifts in his expression. a disapproval he felt was maybe too childish to name properly. but dean didn't linger on it too long. a little razz of a name before moving on back to just calling you by your government. but 'sweets' is new. promotes something, maybe, a bit more delicate than the others. more endearing. 

"cute", you approve. "where are we going?"

"where the party is". 

your arms grow tighter. cinched threateningly at his neck. his little laughs and the edge of his weight against yours not doing much to make your irritations any true problem. but you try anyways. "i swear to God, and Jesus freakin Christ ambrose...", your voice biting. words slipping through your teeth. "...if you take me over to him on some kum ba yah bullshit, i will drown you. i will use all of my weight and pin you to the floor of this pool...", his sputters, chuckles flaming your blood. "...i will end you. i don't wanna talk to him". 

"you two go at it like a fuckin married couple, just—"

your name shrieks across the pool. a drawl of a mezzo soprano voice. pretty and clear like freshly cut diamonds. sing song like and attention grabbing. enough for dean to halt his treading and pivot. curiosities a shitty merging with some low level form of dread. tequila swimming in your stomach, this large, prong attached battery. a careless, suspicious, jolt of energy about your blood as you get closer to chauncey hayes and her mini crowd of personality destitute friends. and no, the dread doesn't spring off from some shriveling form of a fear absolute, but rather the regular anxieties of interacting with a girl too boy obsessed to think straight. because chauncey still roams free and ditsy-like in the halls of tenth grade socialization. a shark of a particular caliber. too small to be truly frightening but existing large enough to annoy already poorly wired nerves. tonight is not the night for this. tonight is not the night for chauncey hayes. 

"just the girl i wanted to chat it up with", she smiles. a little looser than tight lipped. like the work of ingratiating herself to you is a goal but not a top priority. sincerity casting bright for some seconds as she drops her eyes. "hi dean".

"ladies", he gives, to her and all her friends. polite and smirky like. their reactions amusing. 

"what's up?", you ask. ready to get it over with. your arms and legs clinging to dean still. less vexed. seeking comfort. 

"so um...", a faux bout of rumination. her eyes a light bright warm brown, glowing to contrast the cool blue of the pool. a summery colored bathing suit fitting her skin and her hair loose and curly. "...you're cool with the twins right?", her eyes flicking to jimmy and jey. reverential, bordering needy and crazed even. naomi atop jimmy in a similar fashion to how you cling to dean. but her body proves less anxious, more affectionate. the boys cornered and laughing gut deep with roman and seth. "like...deep family connects and all that good stuff?" 

"how federal of you", dean mumbles. 

and yes, blame it on the alcohol. spirits saturating your veins. curiosities fortified and blindly misguiding. so much so that your clues as to where this might lead are a bit blurred. a nameless teenaged ruin. oh yes, just blame everything on that fruity, semi-acrid taste steeped into your tongue. "i guess you could say that, yeah". 

"so whats the status on them then? ... like, i know jimmy and naomi are connected at the hip but roman specifically...", a rushing in where words intend to flow. heat and blood. the inner parts of your ears muddied with an ill feeling. a disruptive sensation. fingers alive with these little twitches. belly swimming. nausea maybe. a well, wet with liquor and a deep vexing. because what the actual hell? "...like what's his deal? is he taken?" 

dean laughs. from the base of his gut. abrupt and ill-controlled. amusement full in his cheeks. "oh young and the restless, eat shit, this is magic", he barks. 

"dean. shut. the fuck. up", you cut. tongue sharp like obsidian. shifting along his back. re-hooking your legs and focusing your eyes from that loose daze. for what? better posture maybe? a maneuvering perhaps that gives one of your arms more reach, more freedom. a reason unknown really. but your human pool noodle takes it as a sign to tread a step backwards. like he knows something you don't. "why do you ask?", your eyes slitting. no less curious, but the anxieties are fallen away to leave a spark of something vicious feeling in it's wake. an unchallenged sensation housed in your chest. a beating, a pulse. the pump of it venturing out to the center of your forehead and the tips of your toes. a thorough spreading about till you're filled with the brutality of it. a dangerous feeling. whole and sweet and grimy. 

"i mean...what do you mean why?", chauncey flicking her shitty little eyes over to roman. a dazzling appreciation in them that aches your teeth. "have you seen him?" 

you grin. mirthlessly. "what makes you think i'd know what he likes?" 

"you're always hanging around...", a patronizing go of words. her eyes rolling, the thought of it sticking to her odd and unwanted. like your proximity to him is more of a nuisance than a fulfillment of his own wants. of each others wants. "...i figured you had a little insider information". 

and the way your arms wrap around dean for stability, fingers clutching nails into his pale skin. anger attempting to be tempered but proving formidable and real bitchy. his throat grunting as he feels the violence of it. "ouch...", he pats your arm for reprieve. to draw you back off the ledge. that resolute voice of mediation coming back in full stride. awkward and stuttered. "...ok uh, so i think maybe...maybe in the spirit of pool parties and um...buoyancy? ...yeah that sounds right... that we should do a breathing exercise...y'know just something to chill us out—"

you cut off his rambling. "is this you trying to be funny?", his hands digging into your thighs to keep you up as you press forward. "your town cryin ass is always ten steps ahead on gossip but you don't know him and i are together?...", voice louder than before. erupting till its bouncing off pool waves to ripple out to the deep end. "...have been together?" 

she scoffs. fighting not to shrink. "he doesn't even talk you up, i—"

"ok, ok, wait!", dean calls out. bewildered at chauncey's nonchalance. treading back.

"girl are you fucking dense?", you yell. 

"ah shit", dean mumbles. backing away slowing. bones heavy amidst the water. 

but you keep going. laughing with teeth. a mild mannered hysteria. "do you not like your life?"

"are you threatening me?", chauncey shrieks. trembling but warring against it.   

"you know who i am", you give. amused and loose blooded. 

"ok, i think thats enough magic for tonight", dean mumbles. his thumb rubbing into your knee as he holds and carries you to the stairs resting at the center edge of the pool. 

the metal curve of the stepping rods cold to the touch. your bones tired and heavy. skin wet. an empty, drained, sensation coddling terribly well everywhere. that short bout of hysteria dead. the party goers unsure of when or how to resume. awkwardly existing under the torture of your fire. the buzz once sizzling your blood, growing neutral and ill-suited for this new lane of emotion. a merging onto something quiet and dejected. the thump of the music never returning to it's former glory, even as your feet press forward into the house. tracking in wet, an untouched collection of dry towels hanging near the entrance. your hand snatching one up, making a b-line for the other side of seth's house. his kitchen scarce of teenage bullshit—apart, of course, from your own—and the loud song of too trivial chatter. the large towel wrapping your body, a tender lean against the counter, trembling softly, waiting for the chill to stop. 

a gut wrenching sort of enervation plays dutifully under the skin. on cue and terribly in the pocket. a grimace worthy rhythm. it makes a disgusting, beautiful, cruel tune out of your nerves. bursting and wild, like the roar of an old iron made engine. a rumbling orchestra, dirty in its symphony, those residuals of anger oh so noisy in the body. feeling mighty and familiar. a fire and grime inherited surely. because who are you that it'd pass you by without troubling skin and bones and the thoughts made ready to leave your mouth?  and sure, maybe in her mischief, chauncey deserved to be dug into the ground, her knowing bright eyes filled with wanting to tear you apart for the fun of it, but not with the easy mean speak of your father. she didn't deserve the grime and blast of that tough leathery part of his nature. at least not from you. being a vessel, holding this much in the same way, it hurts too badly to keep in. hurts more letting it go. 

and roman is light footed as he steps into the kitchen. silent but full in presence. shaping the room to his body. but then again, everything looks quite too large for understanding when you've gone under such a quick, awful diminishing.

"sober yet?" 

"almost". 

he huffs through his mouth. a deep, amusing breath. "it's always the lightweights causing all the trouble", leaning up against the island that runs parallel to the counter. his eyes stitching to your skin. sewing in and binding themselves. "you gave the normals a show though, they'll have something to talk about for the rest of the summer". 

your eyes roll, turning away from him. opening the kitchen fridge to grab a bottle of water. opening it to take a sip, before the sarcasm drips. "m'so happy i could give your fans free entertainment, apparently the little strip tease wasn't enough for them". 

"takin my shirt off at a pool party is regular shit. i can't help it if girls like the way i look. i can't control how people react...", his face running hot with irritation. his cheeks dusting a faint red. loose curls joining up in his hands as he ties them into a small knot. " ...at least i wasn't baitin nobody. you get a little buzz and forget i exist apparently". 

but samir was an empty rebellion. not forgetfulness. a coup against the self to rid of the overpower of his influence. an attempt at reclamation—of eyes and thoughts and opinions—at not caring and just being. was it misguided? sure, but not malicious.  

"i can't help it if boys like the way i look". 

"you was eatin it up...", he flares. not loud but deep. accusatory and pissed. "...all giggly n'shit, like you never heard a compliment before". his body shuffling closer to gain advantage in your line of sight. "i give you compliments all the time and you act all meek like you can't take it". 

the plastic of the bottle gives a crinkling groan from the grip in your hand. your tired eyes meeting his. those last bits of looseness giving you the wherewithal to speak. "you wanted me to be a dick about it?" 

"have the same energy or somethin", he grits. "you damn near threatened chauncey". 

"she was makin it seem like i barely existed next to you!"

"because...you maybe don't", he breaks. urgent. his shoulders falling, unweighted now. like the thought has lived and shaped well in his mind for sometime. his face closer and troubled. a confusion born from frustration. "you don't want me next to you, you barely want me to touch you, and you hate when i look at you for too long, but you want everybody and they damn mama knownin we together". 

that nausea. dizziness behind the eyes. "thats not true—"

"are we together?" he asks. 

the air feeling harder to breathe. that bottle no longer clutched in your hand but too cold still and your ears flooding to the tips with heat. pressure welling up in your throat too much it starts to ache. fingers gathering to ball, nothing between them but the bite of your nails into the palms. the phantom of a thing they hold against for dear life. eyes prickling with a stabbing pain. the beginning of salty warmth that burns the skin. 

you chuckle. mirthless and panicked. "thats not a real question. you can't be for real right now". 

"you got somethin real to say to me then?" 

and it's all resting palpable at the tip of your tongue. but it lacks the proper brilliance. makes no quarrel with itself of possibly being undigestible. it lives wholly uncomfortable, eagerly so, with a streak of menace. and this, he wants you to spit out? to let fall and burn and weight over the air. displeasure true in the heart of your chest, melted and flamed and dangerous like the inner core of the earth. 

"why you so pressed to hear about what i got to say all the time? always lookin and diggin for stuff that don't matter". 

"if its you, it matters", he stresses. confusion wearing well in his eyes but his words sure. "if it's not, then whatever. i don't care". 

and this must be what drowning feels like. the flail of feet and arms and a hopeless horror. water sucked into the lungs, salty and raging against the palate. sinking the words with an evil diligence. but the body has a way about it. an uncanny, needy, pestering desire to survive. to live. so the drowning is not quick. and you are not overcome quickly. coughing and screaming, skin hot and cold and pale and wrinkling. blurry eyes and a gasp too large to contain for long enough. fingers pushing water to rush it behind, a play at propelling the weight of your bones beyond the surface. to say something, to be asked to speak truth to a wordless dread, is the painstaking performance of drowning. "...you have things... you have the club... all of your friends are my friends... it's easy, you get up one day and decide i'm not what you want, you can just leave". 

"no". an instant thing, thick fingers cradling your face. his eyes frightened and brown and displeased. "no". resolute. always so damn sure of himself. his hands pulling, a soft embrace and gesture, your eyes unable to leave him. frightful of being seen but too weak to leave the meeting of his. "that's not true. and you boxin me in like that, it's not fair". your fingers tired, clutched and nailing into his arms. his face, a world of a thing. freckled and soft and tanned. cutting sharper at the jaw but gentle still around the eyes. mouth and tongue delicate despite the cool edge of him, his nature. "when i said, way back before ,that i gotchu, it wasn't me gassin yah head up. i was being real". 

but he doesn't stop. doesn't drown under the roll in of a tumultuous wave. 

his thumb sweeping your cheek. to soothe the skin. to persuade it of his care. "i'm never lookin at you to find somethin wrong or to find a reason not to look", his eyes a slow wandering pace. brushing smooth over your features. your lips and cheeks blooming with a sensation only admiration can give. "it's hard not lookin at you". chuckling and his eyes rolling. "and yeah the way he said it was corny as hell, but samir ain't wrong. you never not look good to me". 

you can feel his breaths here. the draw of his mouth as his appreciation leads him closer. a bright sweetness on his tongue that quickens your blood. his nose a short dainty nudge into yours. anticipation filling the well of your body. 

"i like being next to you". tall body slipping up calm. closer. surrounding you against the kitchen counter. "i like touching you". thumb skimming along your lips. "ain't nothin awful about all that huh?" 

you shiver. the curl up of it riding along your spine. "no". 

"exactly". convincing brown eyes and an exacting little grin. "and nothin bad is gonna happen either. i gotchu. you're mine".

his words a sweet working spell. lips a teasing slot along yours, but never making the full embrace of a kiss. your desperation for it pure. dampens the odd, dirty, hard to digest ideas. 

he smiles. amused. "i snacked on a mint before i came in here so... you kinda gotta kiss me now".

you snort. slipping your fingers over his arms. holding tighter. the fresh scent on his tongue a gentle persuasion. 

"it's mandatory huh?" 

"yeah cause you been fallin off a lot actually. missin weekly quotas. thats real bad for business". 

"something's gotta be done i guess". 

he hums. planting tender and simple. tiny little pecks that lure you further into the give of his lips. a hand sweeping low, his arm curling about your waist, palms splayed. his fingers there bending and running dull to feel the supple fabric of your swimsuit beneath the towel. touching and testing his limits. seemingly waiting for you to pry yourself away. you breathe into his mouth, the air funneling out of your lungs. teeth a teasing bite into his lip. smiling and falling into him. his other hand meeting the exploration of the first. an unhurried pace over your body, along the line of your back. pressing in as it trails. a gasp melting on his tongue as it sweeps in, holding the tremble of you. "so pretty", he gives. littering your jaw with the affections of his mouth. your everything, feather feeling, weightless, arrested and held up in the strength of him. his smile curving into where he purses into your neck. the rhythm of your pulse playing into his kiss. 

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: There are two rules for the Playroom: 1. Stop means Stop. 2. Finn's word is law. When professional assassin Joe and professional dominant Finn stage a rescue for a mistreated young man, they did not plan for how much their lives will change because of Seth Rollins nor account for the effectiveness of Finn's curses. An AU exploring D/s dynamics.

Author: @peppermintquartz

Note from submitter: This fic is so well-written, and so hot!

[mamirhodessxox]

Could you do a first date hcs for Seth Rollins pls? ⭐️

First Date <3

Seth Rollins x Fem!Reader

Contents: Fluff, mentions of beer, the cute regular stuff ya know?

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @bones-rhodes @cococodysleevlesshoodie @edtomh

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

-Seth & You are two very simple compatible people, The two of you met when you volunteered as makeup and hair help for the wwe ladies when they were short on makeup and hair artists, he would usually spend his free time in whatever room you were doing hair in just to wither watch you or chit chat & this eventually turned into attraction & you two both agreed on taking things very steady

-He didn’t want to immediately start of with a glitz and glamour for a 1st date because that is stressful to get ready for on the ladies part, you two are into the easy fun stuff & what is more fun that an in town carnival? Exactly.

-Seth is the type of guy to be very proud of being able to pull any kind of woman so he definitely proudly shows you off, holds your hand, wraps an arm around you, feeding you personally because why are you as the love of his life putting in work? Exactly stfu.

-If you got a snow cone that wasn’t the flavor you expected it to be and it genuinely tastes awful to you he is already switching cones, luckily for Seth he eats anything so he has no issue trading snacks

-Seth once made the mistake of bringing his beer onto the ferris wheel and once it started up it shook a little bit and it freaked him out and he ended spilling his beer all over his shirt so he had to walk around with a carnival bought t-shirt that was the most embarrassing thing wver

-When you two go on any of those carnival rides he holds you extremely close in the assumption you might get hurt & honestly, he would rather die in a gorilla pit than you get a singular scratch.

-He’s the type of guy to impress you with winning 10 dozens of stuffed animals at the carnival games instead of impressing you with the riches, every-time he wins a teddy bear he immediately gives it to you “I just won this thing are you in love with me yet or what” “yes baby I’m very much in love with you.”

-One mistake you do make though is play a competitive game with him, don’t do that, like ever, he is easily competitive and will make it a goal to win.

-He really likes fire work shows so when the event is closing up you two would sit in the back of his car in the trunk and watch the fireworks and just cuddle while he’s internally freaking out. He has the biggest crush on you if you haven’t already noticed.

-later in your guy’s relationship he hates secrets or having to keep a secret, Seth is a total blabber mouth so if he thinks he’s in trouble over anything he immediately runs to you or calls you in the middle of the night and starts word vomiting over the most stupidest thing he did “I just stood next too Liv Morgan & I was like omg her hair looks good what if the love of my life Y/N did it and i was staring at her hair for too long & She glared at me and now she probably thought I was being some weirdo fucking creep but I swear I wasn’t I WAS JUST TRYING TO OBSERVE WHETHER OR NOT YOU DID HER HAIR I’m sorr-“ “Seth, it’s 4 in the fucking morning GO TO SLEEP-“

Manirhodessxox’s Masterlist

[architect-2015]

Redesign, Rebuild, Reclaim

PART 1

Seth Rollins and Kynlee Lockwood were on top of the world circa 2015, champions, the faces of the company. The world heavyweight champion and the divas champion were untouchable with The Authority in their corner, until Seth’s knee gave out. Kynlee made her leave from the company during this time, no longer feeling she got the respect she deserves but what happens when Seth returns to fight Hunter and the odds need to be evened?  

(some events in this will not be timeline accurate)

Being a part of The Authority was never easy so after Seth tore his right ACL, MCL and medical meniscus lets just say things were never the same. Kynlee valued the time she had previously spent by the World Heavyweight Champion’s side, dominating the men's and women's respective divisions so when he was no longer around the champ had lost motivation... she was being scheduled in matches against the likes of Eva Marie and Alicia Fox most of them not lasting longer then 5 minutes, this ultimately left her to take an indefinite leave of absence from the company. 

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

MONDAY NIGHT RAW - February 15th 2016

(103 days since Seth’s injury)

Walking down to the ring to the beat of her entrance theme accompanied by an overwhelming light display with the Diva’s title clasped around her waist, a microphone in her hand and a void expression on her face Kynlee only had one thing on her mind... Change.

“Cut my music!”

Whispers and low mumbles of confusion emit from the crowd, normally if the Divas champ was in the ring The Authority would be hot on her heels so to say this was unusual is an understatement. 

“I know a lot of you will be confused as to why I'm here and normally I would be standing here boasting about my position with this title belt around my waist but tonight's different. You see for the last couple of months things haven't been right, I no longer feel valued in this company for the talent I hold and the revenue I bring to this business so it is in my best interest to cut my losses and leave before I can be buried like many other women in this roster and the wrestling world. We are not valued for the amount of work we put in to this job because most of us don't get more than five minutes of air time.”

“I was naïve enough to believe in joining The Authority I would be able to showcase my talent and help others on the roster during our matches together,  but it took my best friend’s knee caving in to realise even though I'm at the highest point I can be in my career things don't always improve they can get worse. Seth... just know that me leaving isn't me abandoning you, when you return you will continue to defy odds and win back the title you never lost and I will be there cheering you on every step of the way, you will continue your story but unfortunately for me... mine ends here.”

“I lay down my title in hope that one day the women's division is respected and valued just as much as the men’s because we deserve it, The WWE has a platform to showcase the talent of women and changes need to be made for the benefit of the amazing ladies behind that curtain and the business”

Dropping the mic to the floor and placing the pink and silver butterfly belt in the middle of the ring, Kynlee begins her ascend back up the ramp, never once turning back but her strong façade falters for the first time that night. 

----

EXTREME RULES 2016 - Newark, New Jersey

Its been three months since the departure of Kynlee Lockwood and change has  definitely been made since then. The Authority had disbanded in April. The Diva’s title has since been retired and a triple-threat match had been held at WrestleMania 32 to crown Charlotte as the inaugural WWE Women’s Champion. Roman Reigns had defeated Triple H to win the WWE World Heavyweight Championship.

One thing hadn't changed and that was the return of Seth Rollins.

Seth’s POV

“Hey, how are you?” 

The sweet southern twang travelled through my private trailer as Kynlee stepped through the door.

“I’m good, just got cleared for tonight still got some swelling but nothing on the joint so. Mentally I'm still preparing I mean there's only the cage match, the women’s and then main event” 

Kynlee’s hand reached out to hold mine and I felt at ease with the subtle touch, she brought me a kind of comfort that cannot be found anywhere else but with her, within her arms and under the soft gaze of her eyes. I didn't know the extent of this warm feeling that had protected me in the months of my rehab. Could it be love? True unconditional love?  I had no doubt that without her I wouldn't have the opportunity to return to my passion as quick as I did, she was my motivation.

Kynlee’s POV

 “Why don’t you come back with me, We could do it all again I mean no one’s done it as good as we did, as good as you.” 

Staring into his deep brown eyes I could tell he wanted it, he was pleading for it. I wanted it too. I really did but not yet.

Seth and I had grown closer during his rehab process, closer then friends but that was a secret always hidden behind doors (mainly gym and hospital ones), to admit I'm scared is an understatement, I'm scared about what if Seth’s not ready? what if I go back but Seth gets injured? what if Seth excels like I know he will but I'm forgotten because I left?

“Seth I'm not sure. I mean you left because you had to you had to take care of your physical health and preserve you mental health. I left because I got upset. I left for a selfish reason. I was an embarrassment to the company when I left they wouldn't want me back” 

Tears well up in my eyes as I feel a rough hand brush against my cheek the soft aroma of Seth’s cologne welcomes me into a sense of tranquillity. It was the subtle things that help ground me and Seth knew that, a look of reassurance, the linking of our hands or the warmth of him embrace.

Turning to the monitor on the wall it shows Charlotte and Natalya in the heat of their match both desperately scrambling to lock in submissions to pick up the win. 

“You see that title, the title those two talented women are putting a hell of a show on for? You made that change, it was your speech and dedication that got the word Diva banned and that stupid butterfly belt retired. You gave the women their power back, so why not go claim yours? Baby go show that roster who does it best who's got the longest historic reign for a women's belt.” 

----

EXTREME RULES - MAIN EVENT 

“OMG ITS-  ITS SETH ROLLINS!”

“ITS SETH ROLLINS, A PEDIGREE!” 

“SETH ROLLINS IS BACK!, SETH ROLLINS IS HERE A PEDIGREE TO THE CHAMPION”

“Seth Rollins a former WWE World Heavyweight Champion, and remember he never lost the title he was forced to vacate it due to injury last year” 

As the show closes the last scene is Seth Rollins with the WWE World Heavyweight Championship in his grasp with his former shield brother Roman Reigns at his feet. 

After returning backstage and receiving a large amount of praise and complements Seth could only think of one thing and that was the women he had grown to love who sat waiting proudly in his trailer, he showed the world he could come back and concur and that's what he going to help her do.

She had Redesigned the women’s image in the WWE ,

helped Rebuild a broken Seth Rollins, 

and now she needs to Reclaim her title and division. 

[teamchasezwrites]

MASTERLIST

Find all my stories quickly here. Most are fluff. Some might be smut. All can be found on A03 under Team Chasez. All my stories are finished at the time of posting. I do not post multi-chaptered stories without the story being finished.

Damian Priest:

Call Me When You’re Sober (Coming Soon)

The Stocking

Second Chance Part I Part II Part II

Secret Santa (Coming Soon)

Drew McIntyre:

Still of the Night

Saved By The Mountain Man (Coming Soon)

Roman Reigns:

The Ride *smut*

Seth Rollins/Becky Lynch:

Scattering of Emotions

Calming of Emotions (Coming Soon)

[south-of-heaven]

Brollins x daughter reader? The stoey could be whatever you want it to be

Light || Seth Rollins x Daughter!Reader x Becky Lynch

Summary: Everything changed when you came into their lives.

From the moment you entered their lives, everything changed for Seth and Becky. The wrestling industry, with its chaotic schedule and constant demands, suddenly took a backseat to the love and joy you brought into their world. They've never experienced a love as profound and pure as the love they feel for you.

Being WWE superstars means living life in the fast lane, constantly on the move from one city to the next, one match to another. But despite the hectic schedule and the challenges of balancing parenthood with their careers, Seth and Becky wouldn't have it any other way.

Sure, there are moments of exhaustion and frustration, nights spent on the road when they long to tuck you into bed and read you a bedtime story. But the joy of seeing your smiling face in gorilla after a gruelling match makes every sacrifice worth it.

They've learned to make the most of the precious time they have together as a family, cherishing each moment spent at home between gruelling tours. From lazy Tuesday afternoons cuddled up on the couch, recovering from last night's RAW, to impromptu dance parties in the living room, they savour every second spent with you.

And when they're on the road, they make sure to try to keep everything as normal as possible. Bedtime routines, while spent in hotels, stay the same. A bath, a book, then off to sleep. It's a strange kind of comfort that you always sleep in their bed when on the road.

As you grow older, you become their biggest source of inspiration and motivation. They want to be the best versions of themselves, not just for themselves, but for you. They work harder, push themselves further, all with the hope of creating a better world for you to grow up in.

Sure, there are moments of doubt and uncertainty, times when they wonder if they're doing enough for you, if they're giving you the childhood you deserve. But then they see the love and happiness shining in your eyes, and they know that they're doing something right.

Because at the end of the day, family is what matters most. And as long as they have each other and you, they know that they can conquer anything that life throws their way.

[terrortwinunicorn]

Just finished watching the Damian Priest doc and all I can say is it is amazing. 💜🖤 If you have Peacock it is a must watch for any Damian fan or any wrestling fan. 💜🖤🇵🇷

[eringobragh420]

I have another day ahead of me of listening to Trump supporters, except now they’re going to be celebrating, so I’m gonna need ALL THE FLUFFY FIC RECS. Recommend your own, someone else’s, don’t care. Mainly interested in Damian Priest, Dexter Lumis, Cody Rhodes, Gunther (even though I know those don’t exist lol), and Seth Rollins, but I’ll take anything as long as it’s fluffy and happy.

PLEASE HELP!