#who won survivor tonight

[usanews24the]

The Survivor 47 final 4 speak!

[news-usa-01]

And the Survivor 47 winner is…

[altocat]

FIRST SOLDIER EPISODE 2 CHAPTER 2

Ready for tonight's recap? I gotcha covered! I'm VERY excited to see where the plot goes from here! Let's goooo!

So when we last left off, Seph, Angeal, and cameraman Bachman were in some Wutai ruins (Robio), where they met the mysterious swordsman Masamune and the even MORE mysterious Alissa Goldie. Miniroth has mommy issues. Angeal can't make friends with him because he's being edgy. Bachman wants a paycheck. Let's see how this unfolds...

We open on the gang in their camp. There's some other allied soldiers there as well. Guess everyone regrouped. Alissa (SUS) immediately wants to continue her investigation into Robio. Bachman remarks that Alissa seems to have immediately won Sephiroth over...WONDER WHY 💀

Sephiroth is trying out replacements for his damaged sword. Alissa approaches him and Sephiroth is rather nonchalant about having standard Shinra-issued swords. He just...had a feeling about Masamune though.

Alissa keeps praising Sephiroth as a legend and a hero. She's acting all upbeat about everything. It's coming off as genuinely unsettling. She keeps fawning over him.

The group catches eye of a PURPLE SUS orb and Angeal and Seph handle a monster. Alissa can't help because her arm is supposedly hurt. She says that Angeal must have a sixth sense for sensing fiends. EXCEPT NOT THE ONE THAT'S CLEARLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

Angeal and Seph are alone. Angeal asks why Sephiroth is acting differently around Alissa. Sephiroth is silent. When Angeal presses more, Sephiroth claims he's trying out the allies thing. Sorta. They take out another monster together as a team.

Bachman praises their efforts. Angeal still insists that he and Seph will come together in time. He's being his usual friendly self, but Seph STILL blows him off and walks off, noticeably when Bachman attempts to film him.

Bachman says that Alissa is more of an "Angeal type" because of her friendliness. He says that Sephiroth just ignores everyone and is solely focused on becoming a killing machine (OUCH).

Alissa gets attacked by another monster and Sephiroth protectively rushes over to help. I SEE WHERE YOU'RE GOING WITH THIS SQUARE ASDFGHGFDS

Bachman asks Alissa if she thinks a soldier should be a lone wolf like Seph or more friendly like Angeal. Alissa just shrugs. She says that she's here to provide support.

We finally set out again to investigate Robio. Entering the Igara Forbidden Zone. Angeal wants to take a break but Seph insists he doesn't need one. He takes the lead, albeit at a slower pace when he sees Alissa struggling.

They come across a weird rock formation. Powerful fire magic was used in the area. Alissa talks about how two thousand years ago, the Ancients arrived and named this area Igara. SUS SUS SUS. Igara was a paradise until a fearsome beast invaded the region. VERY SUSSSSSSSS. The land got scorched because a bunch of heroes showed up to defeat the foe, using fire magic to destroy it. Supposedly.

The survivors of the fire were the ones who went on to form the country of Wutai! Really cool lore shit!!!!

The group comes across a spooky trail with a LOT of fog. Alissa claims to have left markers on the ground. Sephiroth clears the fog with his sword.

Alissa asks Angeal about the sword on his back. Oh boy here we go...Angeal says it's his good luck charm but doesn't elaborate. Alissa tells Seph that HE needs an impressive sword too! After all, he's a hero! He needs something exceptional! Sephiroth remembers the Masamune and shows interest in claiming it for himself.

There's a bunch of weird purple shit on the ground. More fog too. Really digging the spooky background music. Sets the mood.

Sephiroth asks Alissa if she's an active model soldier. Alissa says that yes, she's modified with special cells! Bachman says that the cells were grown from something they scraped off a meteorite. Alissa says that's only a stupid rumor. Jenova bullet dodged for Seph.

We fight some weird owl-looking monsters native to the area. They've finally entered Robio in full. They start up the investigation. More lore dump time!

500 years ago, after the warriors killed the beast, Robio was a ghost town until settlers came to try their luck. They were also Ancients. Their numbers were smaller by then but they tried to revive the area like the did with Igara. It became a village, Robio. Alissa wants to know why someplace that was revived died again. They're going to inspect the ruins of the major buildings.

Big stones in the road. The people of Wutai placed them around Igara as a sort of barrier...to keep something from getting OUT.

PURPLE LIGHTS SUDDENLY! We see the ghosts of villagers. Illusions of the past. They disappear quickly. The group has no idea what to think about it. They just have to keep exploring.

Burn marks cover the whole village. Angeal wonders if something erupted nearby. More bright purple flashes. Most ghosts and ghost-flames. They see the figure of Masamune cutting villagers down! Sephiroth doesn't know why they sealed this place away. Are they trying to conceal an uncomfortable truth by erasing the past? He says he'd never let that happen to him (irony).

Bachman's camera has footage of the ghosts, where they see Masamune. They have to unravel this mystery.

A statue now. But they can't see what it is. Sephiroth remarks that there has to be an incredible power lurking here. More ghosts. Masamune cutting more villagers down, being called a fiend. Sephiroth says that this has to be the source of the destruction. Wutai sealed this village off because it was fucked and harboring a monster. But they were fucked up in turn for abandoning the villagers to their fate.

Sephiroth doing some more projecting. "Anything different isn't human". Which includes Soldiers. He's de-humanizing himself again. Angeal privately swears that the world isn't bad, people aren't bad. Someday, he'll make Sephiroth see that.

They enter the center of Robio where the villagers would gather to share stories and celebrations. More ghosts. Masamune again. Robio's tools and weapons were the responsibility of a single smith. One day, as if possessed, he took up his hammer and dumped everything into crafting a remarkable blade. AKA the Masamune sword. The villagers started fighting to claim the sword as their own, even trying to steal it. Masamune slaughtered them as a result and set the area aflame. He slayed every villager one by one. The villagers' greed prevented them from working together to take the sword from him. And thus, they each perished individually. And started killing even each other until there was nothing left.

Angeal wonders how the hell Alissa knows all this. Suddenly Masamune jumps down right in front of them! Another fight with the old man! He's got to be at least be hundreds of years old by now. He's very clearly some sort of cursed demon or something.

Alissa tells them that she gathered all that info because the scenes just CAME to her. Like they were her own memories...

Sephiroth says that the Masamune is calling to him. It yearns to become his own. A loud bell chimes somewhere and they race over to investigate.

The sound is coming from a biiiig ruined monument. It feels like something is calling to them. Sephiroth can sense the power. He insists that the sword is meant to be in his hands. Angeal thinks he's acting strange and says that they should leave--this is getting too fucking spooky. Sephiroth is going in. He WANTS that blade "back". Angeal doesn't know what he means by "back".

Angeal manages to talk him into camping out for the night and explore the building tomorrow.

CHAPTER FINISHED! But wait! There's some extra content like last time!

Back at camp, Angeal tells Bachman to rest. Early day tomorrow. But Bachman wants to check his footage. He recaps all the lore for us. He says that Sephiroth seems to have some kinship to the people who once lived here. The sword seems to have given him a new sense of purpose.

Next segment. Oh fuck. Sephiroth is dreaming about his mother again. He's with her in a flowery field. Lucrecia (still labeled "Jenova" is being all sugary sweet and loving towards her son. Lucrecia remarks about the sun and flowers. They've been travelling together in this dream. Sephiroth can't believe it. He rarely leaves headquarters. Lucrecia tells him they go on trips together all the time! Sephiroth wants so bad to spend more time with her. Lucrecia tells him he's a hero. He DESERVES this reward. She's so proud of him. I'M GONNA CRY AGAIN. Him having her by his side gives him strength. Another hug. FUCK.

Obviously I know what they're doing here. These "dreams" are officially a Jenova/other evil entity manipulation. Or SOME sort of shit designed to fuck with Sephiroth's head. This could explain his attachment to Alissa and why he's starting to act strange. These dreams are somehow playing with his mind and grooming him to come to some sort of conclusion, maybe directly tied to him wanting Masamune so much.

Angeal segment to cap us off! So I was wrong before. The last one wasn't a flashback. These are idealized dream sequences. My apologies! Angeal is dreaming about when he left his village for Midgar. Everyone is celebrating and supporting him before sending him off. Sephiroth desired his mother. Angeal desired a happy life where he's appreciated and respected. The entire dream is everyone fawning over him. He gets his uniform and the Buster Sword. His dad gives him the dreams and honor speech. So we know on some level that his oath came from his dad! That's neat! Angeal vows to fight for his parents and for people who are struggling.

And that's it! This was a BIG chapter lore-wise!

[random-imagines-blog]

Tip My Helmet {Eomer x Elf!Reader Oneshot}

Wordcount: 4004 Requested by: Anonymous Summary: You're an elf, the sister of Legolas, while he is a human. Though war brings you close to one another, is there a chance for after?

This was not where you expected to be during a time of war. Inside of Rohan, drinking human ale with all of the survivors of the Battle of Helm’s Deep - and the newly re-found Merry and Pippin. You stood with your brother as Eomer handed out tankards, one to you, one to Gimli, one to your brother. Some kind of juvenile drinking game. You played such things back in Mirkwood from time to time, but with alcohol that was much stronger than this. Your hands wrapped around the tin, feeling the warmth of the drink within. “No pauses,” Eomer was explaining. “No spills.”

“And no regurgitation,” Gimli added on, his eyes large like a child’s as he brought his lips to the foamy liquid swimming atop the ale.

“So, it’s a drinking game?” Your brother asked in an innocent tone, making you smirk slightly to yourself. Legolas was a lightweight, by Elven standards, but with this ale, he’d still be standing strong by the time that everyone else is passed out. Eomer’s eye caught yours with a look of amusement, and you smiled softly.

“Last one standing wins!” Gimli announced, sounding very sure of himself. His laughter filled the air, along with the cheers of the Men of Rohan. Both his large hands went around the cup and brought it to his lips.

“What’ll we drink to? To victory! To victory!” The men around us called out. You lifted your drink towards your mouth, taking a sip of it. It tasted much more earthy than you had been expecting. Not a bad taste at all. Your eyes went from the handsome ones of Eomer to your brother, who ventured a taste as Gimli was chugging his down. He was getting froth all over his beard, something which amused you to no end.

Every time a tankard was emptied, Eomer would hand over another. You stopped yourself at four, shaking your head towards the Rider of Rohan. But your brother and Gimli kept going, to the surprise of the men around. More and more of the metal cups riddled the tabletop. Another two gone, before Eomer could even finish filling two more. Gimli stood on his chair to look at all the empty cups, your own three included, and let out a very drunken laugh.

“I’m not sure we should be doing this,” you said to Eomer, as your brother sipped at his own drink more delicately compared to everyone else around. “I’m starting to suspect that this will damage him beyond tonight.”

“It’s the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women!” Gimli said out of nowhere, saying this as if it were a matter of pride. And then let out a burp that made even you grimace, his eyes crossing as he stuck his face back into his cup.

“I feel something,” Legolas said, looking at his fingers. Eomer looked bewildered, and you sighed, shaking your head again at how damn adorable he looked like that. “A tingling in my fingers. I think it’s affecting me.”

“What did I say?” Gimli said, his words coming out in a strong slur. “He can’t hold his liquor.” His eyes crossed again, then rolled back into his head and Gimli fell down onto the ground. Head over heels.

“Game over?” Legolas said. You chastised him with just a look, for being dramatic like this. It hadn’t been a fair contest - but at least no humans had decided to join in. That much would probably have killed them.

Your group parted, Legolas helping to carry the slumbering Gimli to his room, and you moved further into the party. You found yourself being caught up in the festivities, Eowyn asking you for a dance, though you knew this was just a guise. She really wanted to learn more about Aragorn - but you stayed tight-lipped about the subject, merely smiling and dancing with her in the center of the room. The mood in the air was good. You had all won a grand victory for Rohan, for the light. A large army had been vanquished. The dark was losing the battles. You then danced with Merry and Pippin, both of them holding one of your hands. You were laughing along with them, at their enthusiasm, at their positivity. You even caught sight of Gandalf and Aragorn sharing a smile while watching you. But as you were getting ready to go over to them, a familiar set of hands touched yours gently. “Time for one last dance, my lady?”

You met Eomer’s eyes, and you smiled at him, letting his hands take hold of yours. “I’ve told you not to call me that,” You reminded, chiding him gently.

“My apologies,” he said, bowing his head. “It’s a hard habit for me to break.”

“Perhaps you should try harder,” you said, as the jaunty music continued to play, and you started the dance with Eomer. Hand in hand, you went through the steps of a folk dance, picking it up quickly. It was simple, with a few foot movements. With your bodies being close to one another. Your tunic brushed up against this, your body proximity close. He merely chuckled again, and his breath was warm against your neck while you danced. It finished with a twirl, your long hair, blonde like your brother and your father’s, flying through the air, then resting against your shoulders as you found yourself in Eomer’s arms.

There were cheers from the men around. Whistles. They seemed to be more cheering for Eomer than for yourself, you noticed, as if he had done something bold, something - he should be rewarded for. “Thank you for the dance,” he said, bowing his head to you.

“A pleasure as always, Eomer,” you said, returning the gesture. But you didn’t let go of his hand as everyone went back to their own business. No longer looking at the two of you. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

He raised an eyebrow at you but then nodded his head, not a bow. He let go of your hand, but followed you through the throngs of people, his large presence making you very aware that he was there.

The sweet-smelling breeze of the night air cooled your face once you stepped outside of the castle. You didn’t move too far, not going down the stairs quite yet to the city. It felt like a welcome difference from the heat inside, with the fires and the humans all crowded together, sweaty and warm. Your eyes turned upwards, looking towards the skies. The stars were bright tonight. They, too, seemed pleased by the victory.

“The stars - I believe they’re shining for us tonight,” You mumbled towards Eomer. “Even the sky is pleased about our victory. We’re on the right path.”

“You think so?” Eomer said, leaning against one of the columns of the front of the castle, his arms crossed as he looked up and out as well. “How can you tell? They look like plain stars to me.”

You chuckled, finding his humanity endearing. “The stars are beloved to my people. We have a relationship with them. They help us during times of trouble - and have always been dependable.”

“Trees, stars,” Eomer said, his eyes coming down from the skies to linger on your face. “Is there anything that you don’t have a relationship with?”

His tone showed that he meant no offense. He was a curious man. He had told you, when you had been riding back from the Battle of Helm’s deep, that he hasn’t had much contact with elves before. He had asked you about your homeland, about your brother, about how you had learned the skills in battle that you had shown. He had some outdated ideas about how women should not fight. But he couldn’t deny that you had been an asset.

“Everything,” You grinned. “The air around us is beloved to us too. When the wind is strong, it lifts us. That is why it is so easy for us to live among the trees. We can be brought right up to the top where our homes are, thanks to a stiff breeze.”

“You mean-” he said, moving away from the column, and walking up to you, his expression baffled. “You can fly? The air can make you fly, like a bird, or a Nazgul-birds?”

“Yes,” You nodded, keeping a straight face. “You did not know this?”

“No!” He said, amazed. “Can you call on the wind? Can it take you wherever you want to go? Could you-”

Your straight face failed you. Your shoulders started to shake as you began to laugh. Unlike a lot of other elves, you had managed to have a sense of humor. Playing with the other races, this bit of mischief, was one of your favorite things about this whole adventure. “I’m sorry, Eomer. I was only telling tales. Although all of the elements are important to us, all have their uses, air does not help us to fly.”

“You almost had me there,” Eomer said with a chuckle. “We could have won the whole war if that was true. It would be done in seconds. Just fly over Mount Doom and drop the ring in.”

“Unfortunately, it cannot be so,” You sighed, and looked up at the stars once more. Even though you were in a different area, the stars were much the same as the ones you saw at home, and you could follow them like a straight path right on back if you so desired. “But there is still hope, written in the night skies. These stars, they’ll show Frodo and Sam the way, just as surely as they’ll show them the way back home.”

Galadriel had given Frollo the light of the star of Eärendil. They were already involved now.

“You see that, in the stars?" Eomer asked, his voice sounding incredulous. You didn’t blame him for not believing you. Men were … a lot more folly. They’d believe in Gods that they could not see, but they didn’t believe in the very lights in the sky that they could.

“As long as there are stars, Eomer, there is hope.”

You had spoken with your brother. He and Gimli were going to follow Aragorn through the passage in the mountains. The passage that would bring them either to a great success - a secret weapon of sorts - or deadly peril. But that was their choice to make, so you only wished them safety, and that you would see them again during the war. You weren’t going to join them. You felt like your place was here, more so with the people of Rohan. With Eomer, who you had grown close with over the journey. And Eowyn, whom you already thought of as a sister.

You had been walking back towards the speaking brother and sister, when you heard words that you didn’t quite agree with. And being the person that you were, you were going to say something about it.

“War is the province of men.”

“Men?” You questioned, making Eomer turn around. “No matter which way you mean it, whether gender, or race, you do not think that I am for battle? No - you must mean the gender, for you have had no problem fighting alongside elves, and dwarves.”

You had missed that he had been talking about Merry at first, though you were on Eowyn’s side in that argument as well. Just as you had every right to fight, as did Aragorn, Theoden, Eomer himself - Merry and Eowyn both had the ability to decide to fight. But right now, you were just defending Eowyn. And yourself.

“Though I don’t remember you having a problem fighting alongside me, either,” You spoke aloud, remembering the moment that you had caught eyes with him for the first time, while searching for Merry and Pippin. And then again during the battle for Helm’s Deep, when he realized that you were there, in the full swing of things, your armor stained with blood, cuts and bruises on your arms, just like everyone else. “So, it’s just your sister you’re coddling for the moment?”

“I am not coddling,” Eomer insisted, his eyes lit up by the reflection of the fire that he had been sitting near only a moment ago. “I’m explaining the way that things are. You - you are a valuable warrior; I will give you that but-”

“That should be in the end of your sentence,” you said, sharply. “You cannot respect me as a fighter, but disrespect your sister’s wish to be the same. She might not have the experience of war that you do, no, she does not have that. But she has the same amount of heart, the same determination, the same reasons to go into battle as you have. The only differences between you are what is in between your legs, and what expectations were put upon you by someone else.”

Eowyn looked surprised, and Eomer - he just looked stunned by your words. No one had dared to talk to him like that before. Especially not a woman. “I just don’t want her to get hurt,” Eomer finally said his real reason for thinking like this. There was something about you that made his heart go in front of his brain, in front of his reasoning. “I don’t want either of you to get hurt. But she,” He said, looking towards his sister, “-she is the future of Rohan. Eowyn, you are who everyone is going to follow if something happens to-”

The word went unspoken. The King. If something happened to Theoden, it would be Eowyn that would be in charge. She would be the Queen of Rohan, taking care of the survivors. Starting over again in the city after it had been ravaged by orcs.

“But - that is not a good enough reason,” Eowyn insisted. “I worry about you, about everyone that is going out there. My friends - my family - don’t I deserve to fight for them too?”

“But-” Eomer started, but then looked between the two of us, and he saw that he was going to lose this argument. It was two against one, and both of us were speaking logically - even though he had his own good reason nonetheless. Eowyn turned on her heel and walked back to her tent, most likely to practice her sword skills once more. You had caught her doing it before. Had even given her some advice on how to use her reach to her advantage.

You approached Eomer, and daringly, you put your hand on his shoulder. You were in close proximity to him. You could smell the stew on his breath, though this was not unpleasant. It was a hearty, human-type smell. His shoulder was large underneath the fabric that he wore, which had been made warm with his own body’s heat. His hair tickled at the back of your hand.

“You do have a good heart, Eomer, and she knows that you love her, and that you care. But restricting her, keeping her in a cage like a pretty bird, is not the way to do it. Nor, exactly, is trying to claim that only men should be in war. I took offense to that.”

“I apologize for offending you,” he said, his eyes intense. Beautifully bright while being lit like this. “But I have seen you in war. And you have had years of training for it, that much was clear. You’re very skilled,” he said, his hand reaching towards your waist now in a show that was as ostentatious, as audacious as your hand upon his shoulder. It brought you both closer together than before. “You’re like a dancer out there, when you fight, you make it look easy, while we both know that it is not.”

“It isn’t,” You agreed. You had trained for centuries to be as good as you were, against all manner of foe. “But is that not all the more reason to help her rather than dissuade her? You’re an excellent swordsman, Eomer. Only rivalled by your skills as a rider. She’s going to find a way to fight whether you accept this or not. Would you not do the same?”

Eomer groaned, his thick eyebrows furrowing as he was really listening to what you were saying. “I know my place -”

“So let her decide hers,” you said, firmly, your breath upon his chin now, close. “I will help her, if you do not. The last thing either of us want is for her to get hurt. So, relieve yourself of your stubborn nature for only a couple of days and allow me to do this. It will only benefit her.”

“Fine,” he said, gritting his teeth, his eyes drilling holes into yours. “You can teach her. But I cannot. I’ve got too much to do with the rest of the army, we’ve barely recovered from Helm’s Deep.”

“I understand. Leave it to me, Eomer,” you said, your voice hitting him like soft silk against his cheeks, cool but comforting. “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t lose anyone you love in this battle.”

“Including you?” He asked, without missing a beat. Your breath got caught inside your mouth, whatever words that you were thinking of saying next just rolling around on your tongue, but not escaping. You closed your lips for a second, as he looked on at you, nervous, anxious, earnest.

“Including me,” you said finally with a curt nod. He breathed out in relief, the smell of ale tickling your nose. He pressed a soft kiss onto your forehead, the first sort of affection like this that you had, and then left you to talk to his sister about what was going to happen going forward.

The battle was won, though there were great losses all around. You had not been able to keep your promise to him, for he had ended up losing someone that he loved. His own uncle. Your heart broke for him when he had found his uncle’s corpse, Eowyn bent over it, crying, Merry standing there with tears down his own face. The sound that Eomer had let out sounded more pained than anything you had ever heard before. Like he was the one who was dying.

You knelt down on Eomer’s other side and you rested your hand on his back, over his armor. He could not feel your touch, but he could feel your presence, and that had to be enough for now. “I’m sure he fought valiantly until the last,” You spoke, looking at the still noble face of Theoden, King of Rohan.

“He did,” Merry said with a nod, the sob very evident in his voice. “He surely did, my Lady.”

You did little to try to stop the crying of those around you. You only offered a hand to Eowyn, your closeness to Eomer, and your great respect to the little hobbit who was also trying to keep things together through his own grief. The latter had gone to try to find his friends, to find Pippin, no doubt, and you wished him the best of luck as he went. You did not go searching - you stayed put, feeling a familiar sense that your own brother was still alive, wherever on the battlefield he was.

Time went on. Fallen warriors were identified by the living, and were loaded onto carts, respectfully, to be carried back home to be buried. The King was given special treatment of course, being overseen by Eomer and Eowyn, as well as Aragorn himself. You and Eowyn had picked flowers to lay across his body for transport, signs of love, signs of respect. And you rode with Eomer, the first woman to ever ride upon his horse with him, holding onto his waist from behind.

Your own feelings were divided between grief and love. It was easy for the two to mix together, to combine into something bittersweet. As you rested your head upon the back of his shoulder as his steed, Firefoot, trotted beneath you, transporting Theoden back, you had a lot of thinking to do. The idea of leaving Eomer made your heart ache painfully, something you had never felt before. You knew what this unfamiliar feeling was - it was love. But there was a divide between you two - your races, your lives. He was human, his life was fleeting, he was aging before your very eyes and would soon be the age his uncle was when he died, and then older, and older, until death would greet him, hopefully peacefully.

The war wasn’t over. Once you reached Rohan, word was coming that Aragorn was planning on bringing as many troops as would come to Mordor. For Frodo, to give him time, to destroy the ring and the evil that came with it. There has not been much news of the hobbit, but there was still hope that he was out there. That he was close to achieving the end-goal.

“Will you ride?” You asked Eomer. His eyes set upon you as they did many times before, darkened by the sorrow but with a bright, determined light still within.

“I will,” he said. “I need to see this war out to the end. Do what my uncle could not.”

You nodded, understanding him. He was preparing for a night of rest in his own room once more before the ride back to Minas Tirith to meet up with Aragorn and his army. He removed his helmet, his hair falling down around his shoulders, braided still from before the battle. You moved towards him, your fingers running through the strands, shiny with sweat and oils. “I will be coming too.”

“And there is no way I can talk you out of it?” Eomer asked, looking into your eyes, licking his chapped lips. “No way to convince you to stay here, and wait for me?”

“It would be like asking the sun to wait to rise,” You admitted, moving to cup his cheek instead, his bristly facial hair rough against the smoothness of your hand. “It is in my nature to go where I am needed, and that is where I feel I must be. Fighting with my friends. With my brother.” You paused for a moment. “With my love.”

The corner of his lips went up into a smile at his admission, before quickly going back down again. “And - if I lose you?”

“Then that’s the path that fate had set us down upon,” You spoke. “It would be only too easy to stray, to find a way to another path without the potential of that hurt - but I want to remain on this one and take that chance. I want to be with you, as human as you are.”

His lips met yours quicker than you could have imagined, as if he was as swift as an elf. You closed your eyes and melted against him, feeling yourself growing rather than shrinking into this feeling. It was distressing, how fast your heart was beating inside of your chest for a man that you would only be able to hold onto for a short time. That divide - it was like the distance between two stars up there in the night sky. Further apart than one could feasibly imagine. And yet - you were both part of the same constellation regardless. Connected by a single link, and that was your feelings for one another. Whatever this final battle brought on, you’d hold onto that link, and use it to make yourself stronger, like how adding strands to a braided rope made it stronger. And you’d use it to your advantage.

For Frodo.

And for your future, as long as it may be, as much strife and loneliness might come upon it later, you would enjoy these moments of passion, of romance and of Eomer, and make each moment stretch to feel as if it lasts forever.

[sydsaint]

Summary: The reader is a member of Judgment Day who piques Jey's interest.

"Jordan, grab my bag from the trunk, please." You ask McDonagh after you step out of the SUV with Rhea. 

"Grab mine too, Dom," Rhea adds from your side. 

Dominick and Jordan both nod and grab yours and Rhea's bags. The pair pop back up on either side of you and Rhea and everyone heads inside the arena. You and Rhea chat about the show while Dominick and Jordan trail after you. 

"I just remember that I've got that match against Zoey Stark tonight." You think aloud. "Ugh, what a pain in the ass, right?" 

"Got that right." Rhea agrees. "I still can't believe that Zoey thinks she has any chance of beating me at Survivor Series." She snorts. 

You and Rhea laugh and everyone files into the Judgement Day locker room. Damian and Finn are already there when you arrive so you walk over to Damian to chat. Jordan cautiously trails behind you, wary of being so close to Damian. 

"I see that you got your briefcase back." You notice that Damian has regained his MITB contract after Sami Zayn hijacked it a few days ago. "How'd you manage that?" You ask him. 

"Pearce had it in his office," Damian explains. "So either he made Sami give it to him. Or Zayn just dropped it off because he didn't want me to come looking for him." He sneers. 

You scoff and shrug. "I'd still kick his ass if I were you." You suggest. "The little weasel needs to be taught a lesson so he doesn't try and pull something like that again." 

"Oh, Sami will get his." Damian insists with a dark chuckle. "When the time is right." 

You nod and hang around for a bit longer until it's time for your match against Zoey Stark. "Come on, Jordan." You beckoned JD back to your side since he wandered off to chat with Finn. 

"Coming." Jordan hops to his feet and walks over to you. 

You make your way out to the ring with Jordan at your side for backup. Zoey Stark comes out a few moments later and the two of you start the match. 

Despite Zoey's best efforts, you make quick work of the blonde and start teasing her about Rhea once you've won. Jordan laughs and teases Zoey with you a bit until someone else's entrance music hits on the overhead speakers. Your head snaps to the top of the ramp as Jey Uso makes his way down to the ring. 

Jey makes his way down to the ring with a mic in hand and comes face-to-face with you in the ring. "Y/N, how's it going, shortie?" Jey flashes you a charming smile. 

"What do you want, Jey?" You turn your nose up at the defected Uso. "And where's your boyfriend at? I believe Damian would like a word with him." 

"This ain't about him," Jey replies. "I'm here to talk about us, baby." He informs you with a flirty grin. 

You raise a brow at Jey's claim and look him up and down briefly. "Us?" You repeat him. "Since when is there an us?" You ask him. 

"Yeah! She's with me!" Jordan speaks up from your side. 

"Shut your mouth, ol' big forehead looking ass." Jey snaps at Jordan and silences him. "The lady and I are talking." 

You hold back a snicker at Jey's comment and try to remain stoic. "I'm pretty sure this conversation is over." You insist. "Come on Jordan, let's leave Jey to call for his boyfriends." You gesture for Jordan to part the ring ropes for you. 

"Here, let me, baby." Jey shoves past Jordan and parts the ring ropes for you. "And hey, when you tired of having ol' big forehead over there following you around like a lost puppy? You know where to find me, baby. A girl like you should have a real man at your side." He flashes a grin at you. 

Jordan huffs and grumbles to himself as he hurries to catch up with you on the ramp. You walk backward a few steps as Jey stares at you from inside the ring. You stare back at him until Jordan sets a hand on your arm. 

"Y/N? Come on!" Jordan posters you. 

"I'm coming, Jordan. Geez. Pipe down." You snap back at him and head backstage. 

When you return to the locker room, you walk over to Rhea and Jordan finds Finn. Rhea congratulates you on beating Zoey as you sit down next to her. 

"Nice work taking out Starks." Rhea smiles at you. 

"Ah, it was light work." You wave your hand dismissively. "It should be an easy night for you at Survivor Series." You insist. 

Rhea nods in agreement and changes the subject. "And what about Jey Uso?" She asks you. 

"What about him?" You reply. 

You and Rhea chat about Jey for a bit and his potential in Judgement Day. Damian walks over to the two of you after a bit with some news. "Jey and Sami are tagging together in a bit against Kaiser and Vinci. Finn and I are going out there to get some revenge." He informs you and Rhea. 

"Okay." Rhea nods. "Why don't you take Y/N and Jordan with you?" She suggests. "You can mess with Jey a bit more." 

"Ooo, sounds fun." You agree and join Damian and Finn. 

Everyone heads out to the ring and Damian gets to work in attacking Sami. Finn goes after Giovanni and Jey, leaving Kaiser the only one not being attacked. You lock eyes with Kaiser and nudge Jordan on the arm. 

"I don't like how he's looking at me, Jordan, Take care of it." You send Jordan on his way. 

"What about me, baby?" Jey pops up at your side a few seconds later. 

You lock eyes with Jey and an amused smile cracks on your lips. "You're no better." You taunt him. 

"Oh, I don't think that's true, baby." Jey chuckles. "I know that you're into me, Y/N." He insists. "I can see it in your eyes." 

"I think that you need to get over yourself, Jey." You reply but take a step back as Jey advances on you. 

You back up and your back hits the ring so you stop. Jey steps up to you and looks you over. His gaze switches from your eyes to your lips a few times before he licks his own. "Why don't you let me show you what a real man is capable of?" He asks you suggestively. 

Before Jey can advance on you any further, Jordan pulls you away and back to the rest of the team. You laugh at Jordan's side and shrug at Jey. "Better luck next time, Jey!" You shout at him with an amused laugh. 

"Oh, I can wait, baby!" Jey shouts back at you. "Take all the time that you need. I'll be right here." He insists. 

You watch Jey as you walk back up the ramp. And you know that he means what he claims. 

[razrogue]

That Night Under Those Stars (Sten)

Female Tabris x Sten

Tags: Post DAO, Goodbyes, Unrequited Love

Notes: Finally finished this little thing about these two. Enjoy!

Words: 860

Read on AO3

It'd been almost three weeks since the defeat of the archdemon and Denerim was beginning to see some semblance of normalcy. The skies were no longer choked by smoke and haze. The charred remains of some buildings and haphazardly built reinforcements no longer smoldered. The citizens and soldiers had been hard at work trying to rebuild what the darkspawn tried to destroy.

Southern Thedas was too wet and too cold and too gray for his tastes. He missed the warm weather, blue skies, and green hues of home. That was all set to change soon. He'd finally gotten passage to make his way back towards Par Vollen and was set to sail out the next morning. The only survivor of his convoy that'd been sent out for reconnaissance, it felt like it had been years with how much had taken place since she freed him from that cage in Lothering.

Raucous singing and cheering could be heard all the way on the side of the building as everyone tried to wind down from the day. She'd stepped outside to get a little breather and ever observant, he followed shortly behind. The two of them rested there side by side in the chilly night air, propped against the wall as they quietly stared at the night sky together.

Sten watched out of the corner of his eye as Briva inched a little closer, not enough for them to touch but enough that she could feel his warmth. Much like she'd do some nights when he was keeping watch over the camp. Nights when the nightmares were too much so she'd forgo sleep and just keep watch with him. He'd never imagined that his life would be so impacted by the small elf standing beside him tonight. The rogue who'd lockpicked his cage in Lothering to set him free. Fuck the chantry she'd said as the lock fell to the ground and motioned for him to join them. The archer who's knack for precision with a bow surprised even him as she could almost rival some of Par Vollen's best with more discipline he'd always he tell her. He couldn't have anticipated what would become of their adventures that one night he decided to spar with her. What she lacked in discipline and structure, she made up for in unpredictability and guile. Her dagger work could make anyone a little uneasy with the way she handled herself. Always finding the openings and when she couldn't find a way, she fought dirty and made one. Methods he didn't approve of but they were effective nonetheless. The two of them sparred and trained. He sought to correct while she sought to upend and they usually reached a draw at the end. A conclusion most surprising to both but enjoyable either way.

Days turned into weeks, skirmishes turned into battles, each time they won and he was surprised a little more. Enough that she was changing his mind a little about what southern Thedas was capable of if there were more like her. They continued to spar with each other. Continued to win their battles. She helped him recover his sword and she finally earned his trust. He shared a little. It wasn't as annoying nor as pointless as he thought it would be. She shared a little more. He learned to see her outside of certain roles, despite how that notion defied everything he knew. Little by little, she had earned a different place, as some Qunari would call it, as Kadan. And so that night as Sten and his Kadan stood in an alley outside The Pearl, they enjoyed each other's company in silence.

Briva finally settled against his side, a sigh escaping her lips, the only noise made between the two of them as they stood there. They'd said very little before saying a lot but tonight they didn't need to say much more. He unclenched his fist, letting his fingers relax a little, making an opening without saying a word. An opening she sensed coming, her palm already poised and waiting for his thick calloused fingers. He glanced down briefly before clearing his throat, taking hold of her hand in a firm but still gentle grip. Briva grinned but said nothing as she watched him settle his fingers between hers before turning back to the starry sky. Tonight, that silence would have to hold all the things they couldn’t say and all the things they probably should. In another world at another time, they could have been something else, maybe something more.

Something like love, like lust, like devotion. But instead they only had right now. A time right now filled with admiration and taboo whispers of something more that would have to remain as such. They were on different paths, set to continue leading their different lives so they would cherish these times together and enjoy what they would share tonight. Tomorrow, he'd begin the journey back home. That bittersweet silence that the two of them would share that night for the last time in a dimly lit alley in Denerim. It would have to sustain what was between them until that other lifetime.

[mariacallous]

A record number of Cabinet ministers lost their seats on Friday in Britain's general election, leaving only a couple of obvious contenders for the party leadership if Rishi Sunak resigns.

Nine members of Prime Minister Rishi Sunak's top team failed to be re-elected, beating the previous high of seven who lost out in 1997, as the ruling Conservatives suffered a mauling at the hands of the main opposition Labour party.

Grant Shapps, the UK's defence secretary for nearly a year, was the most high-profile casualty, losing his Welwyn Hatfield seat north of London.

Leader of the Commons Penny Mordaunt, who shot to international attention as a sword carrier at King Charles III's coronation last May, lost in Portsmouth North on England's south coast.

A former defence secretary, she tried twice to become Tory leader, and was tipped to try again after Thursday's election, with Sunak expected to stand down.

Other Tory casualties included Education Secretary Gillian Keegan, Justice Secretary Alex Chalk, Culture Secretary Lucy Frazer, Transport and Science Secretary Michelle Donelan.

Veteran minister Johnny Mercer and Brexit champion Jacob Rees-Mogg also lost out, as voters grew fed up with the Conservatives after 14 years in power.

The defeats have already sparked soul-searching among re-elected and departing Conservatives, who said the party had been punished for a series of scandals and infighting in recent years.

"I think that we have seen in this election an astonishing ill-discipline within the party", said former Justice Secretary Robert Buckland, after losing his seat.

Shapps, an MP since 2005, criticised the Tories' "inability to iron out their differences" amid an endless political "soap opera" that saw five prime ministers since the 2016 Brexit vote.

"What is crystal clear to me tonight –- it is not so much that Labour won but that the Conservatives lost," he added.

Right-winger Suella Braverman, sacked as interior minister by Sunak late last year for a series of incendiary comments, was re-elected and finance minister Jeremy Hunt survived a major scare to squeak victory.

Current interior minister James Cleverly also held on to his seat.

Secretary of State for Business and Trade Kemi Badenoch and security minister Tom Tugendhat also won their races.

Most of those high-profile survivors are expected to challenge for the leadership.

Braverman apologised to voters in her victory speech, saying the Tories had failed to listen to voters.

"The Conservative party let you down... we have got to do better and I will do everything in my power to rebuild trust. We need to listen to you. You have spoken to us very clearly," she said.

[fandomnerd9602]

Could you do Sam Carpenter x male!reader where y/n is Jack Reacher's brother.

The California sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as you and Sam strolled along the pier. The gentle murmur of the ocean provided a soothin backdrop to your laughter, your fingers intertwined with hers. Every now and then, you'd steal a glance at her, marveling at how the golden light seemed to dance in her hazel eyes.

Dating Sam had been a whirlwind. After the Ghostface killings, you, Jack Reacher's younger brother, had offered her support, drawn to her strength and resilience. What started as friendly coffee dates blossomed into something deeper, fueled by shared laughter, late-night conversations, and stolen kisses under the stars. Tonight, the air was filled with unspoken affection as you two walked in comfortable silence.

"Penny for your thoughts," Sam nudged you playfully.

You grinned. "Just thinking how lucky I am to be here, with you."

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, mirroring the fiery hues of the sunset. "Shut up"

You chuckled. Jack, ever the overprotective older brother, hadn't been thrilled about you dating a Ghostface survivor, let alone borrowing the daughter of a serial killer. But your unwavering enthusiasm and Sam's genuine charm had eventually won him over.

Reaching the end of the pier, you leaned against the railing, gazing out at the vast expanse of the ocean. "Remember when we first met?" you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

"How could I forget? You showed up at my doorstep with Jack, looking all worried and determined," Sam said, her voice laced with amusement.

"I was, the whole thing was a favor to Kirby," you admitted. "But you surprised me. You were..." you paused, searching for the right words, "exactly who I needed."

Her hand squeezed yours tighter. "And you," she began, her voice soft, "were kind, understanding, and the best distraction a girl could ask for."

You turned to face her, drawn to the warmth in her eyes. The memory of that first meeting played in your mind – the fear in her eyes quickly replaced by determination, the spark of defiance that mirrored your own. In that moment, you knew you weren't just drawn to her; you admired her, respected her.

As the last sliver of the sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the pier into a romantic twilight, you leaned in, closing the gap between you. The kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with unspoken promises. When you pulled away, breathless, her forehead rested against yours.

"I'm glad you're here," you whispered, your heart brimming with happiness.

"Me too," she murmured, her lips curving into a smile. "And who knows, maybe next time, we can convince Jack to join us for dinner sometime"

"Get him to agree to come here, maybe" you give a wink. As you continued your walk hand-in-hand, the future stretched before you, filled with the promise of more laughter, shared adventures, and the comforting presence of the girl who had stolen your heart, the survivor who had found solace in your arms.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Do I typically do Ron bashing? No.

Does this qualify as Ron bashing? I don’t know.

Dramione Drabble 9

The first time Ron figured out that he had a praise kink was when he went down on Lavender brown in a broom closet on the second floor corridor.

She ha called him a good boy. Had promised him anything he wanted of he kept going. And so he did, until he felt her cum in his mouth. And when he bent her over mop bucket and fucked her from behind, she kept calling him her good little Won Won. She praised the size of his cock, the feel of his hands on her.

He didn’t realized he had missed it until she died.

He never told Hermione about his praise kink. He had sort of just hoped that it would happen with them on its own. But it didn’t.

She was sweet in bed, but she didn’t ever compliment the size of his cock or call him a good boy.

As a matter of fact, outside of the bedroom, Hermione complimented very little. She didn’t hand out compliments or praises to anyone, not even Harry. And everyone complimented Harry.

But, Hermione complimented Malfoy.

She praised the way he did his job, or his knowledge on books. Once, she complimented the complexion of his skin. What was it about Draco Malfoy that brought out such out of character behavior from her? Didn’t Ron deserve some praise? Didn’t he make her feel good?

“Is that what you like, Ron?” a soft, sultry voice asked him, later that evening.

Ron looked up from his pint of beer, and into the dark, almond shaped eyes of Parvati Patil.

Seamus had left an hour earlier, leaving the two of them alone at a corner table of the pub.

She leaned into him, her silky black hair falling forward and tickling his arm. “You want me to tell you what a king you are as you eat my cunt?” Her breath was warm against his ear.

His cock twitched, quickly hardening at the sound of her proposition, the admiring tone of her voice as she said words like king and cunt.

Licking his lips, he looked down at her hand, stroking taunting lines into his bicep, promising everything Hermione couldn’t — wouldn’t — give him. “Is that what you want?” He asked, roughly, already shifting in his seat.

She nodded. “Lavender used to go on and on about that tongue of yours. Always made me jealous.” She sighed and Ron caught sight of her clenching her thighs together. Lavender’s praises always made him feel good. Even posthumously.

That was half a year ago and only two weeks after he had proposed to Hermione. It was the also the time Ron cheated on her.

Seeking what she couldn’t give him, the way he wanted it. From a woman who would, a woman who loathed something about herself. Maybe it was survivors guilt. But, with Ron, she felt better. She smiled and laughed and praised him.

When Hermione almost died, Ron had panicked. He had been a terrible fiancé, while Malfoy had been there to save her. He refused to leave her side until she woke up. Once again proving that he was a better partner than Ron.

So, while Hermione lay unresponsive in St. Mungos, Ron had called things off with Parvati.

He had been determined to make things with Hermione work out. And he knew that if Malfoy was out of the picture, then things would be fine. Perfect, actually.

But she had woken up different. And it wasn’t just the eerie color of her eyes. Sure, they made him uncomfortable, but he knew he could move past that.

What bothered him more was the fact that she felt different. Ron couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, had changed about her. He just knew it was there, and it left him uneasy when he was around her.

He did love her, he meant what he said tonight. But she was looking at him like he had let her down. Again.

And so when he found himself standing outside the door to Parvati’s flat, he told himself that it was going to be the last time. Even as she pulled him into her living room and threw him onto the couch, he swore that, after tonight, he would never cheat on Hermione again.

But there was a voice, in the back of his head, as Parvati rode his cock and called her his king, that told him he was a liar. That he could not make Hermione happy. Not now, not ever.

But he’d be damned if he let Draco Malfoy be the one to do it.

[nerdieforpedro]

Patrolling on Christmas

Joel Miller x plus size female reader

Fanfiction rating: Teens and up

My blog overall is 18+

Word Count: approx 2.5k

Summary: Joel prefers patrol rather to be around others at Christmas, even after spending a few years in Jackson. He’s paired up with you on patrol and it’s not so bad. If asked, he may even say fair.

Warnings: Post outbreak, cursing, Joel is a grump, depression, survivors’ remorse/guilt, jokes about The Bard, damn knees and back, a fall, minor injury, ending fluff

Notes: I wanted to write Christmas Joel. I was going for sweet & happy. Post-outbreak Joel cropped up and my post shift mood determined that This is The Way. Merry Christmas 🎄 It’s got a sliver of sweet.

“Patrol can wait a day Joel. I don’t get why you’re still so damn weird about Christmas. It’s just all of us gathering at the Tipsy Bison and talking shit. No one’s going to ask you to do anything, not even me for fuck’s sake.” Elle threw her hands up in the air in frustration.

“...Language Elle.” Joel reminded her.

“I mean, I agree, language, but she’s right. There’s other people on rotation who can-” Tommy with his arms crossed explains, trying to put on a stern face. Doesn’t affect Joel at all.

“Shut it. I said I’m goin’. That’s it. See you tonight.” Heavy boots stepped out of the house and stopped on the porch looking back. “Have fun. Stay out of trouble.” With that, he adjusted the rifle that was over his shoulder and made his way to the perimeter to meet up with his patrol partner. He was expecting Sam or John but tried to control his eyebrows raising at the sight of you. He thought you’d join the others at the festivities.

Just like in the world before the outbreak, no one wanted to work holidays. The few holidays that were still celebrated anyway. Joel volunteered in part because the holidays always reminded him of the people he’d lost and it kept his brain from wandering to the dark recesses of his mind. If he kept busy, followed tasks and tired himself to the point of exhaustion, he’d briefly say goodnight to Elle and collapse in his bed. Then he may be blessed with the void of sleep, where his mistakes and failings may not play back through his head because he’s shut down.

The former smuggler wasn’t disappointed or annoyed that you’d be patrolling with him. In fact, it was likely best. You alternated between silence and run-on sentences about any and everything. That also removed his thoughts from being on himself. He even found himself chuckling on occasion at something you’d say that he found funny. He knew you didn’t mean it to come out that way, but hearing about horoscopes that you thought you remembered and comparing them with Maria and the other ladies based on some old papers they’d found was weird as it was ridiculous to Joel. It was good to have a bit of silliness in this hopeless world.

The both of you checked your weapons, you had a revolver in addition to your rifle. You said that you won it in a bet with Fred that Joel would ‘fire’ you as a patrol partner. Joel was curious as to why. You didn’t look directly at him when you told him why. Your gift of gab and keeping things light as well as your build which was short, stocky and thought to be poor for evading clickers, raiders and hunters. Fred wasn’t wrong in that respect outright, but you’d learned to either hide well or improve your aim to prevent them from getting to you.

Joel noted that Fred was a bigger asshole than he thought.

“Doesn't matter. What does is that I get the job done and come home. Let’s go.” Joel followed your lead, it seemed the bet you’d have with Fred had spurred action in you, not a bad thing, but it’s best to keep a cool head.

“Keep focused. Raiders and clickers don’t give two shits about Christmas.” Joel adjusted his rifle again as the two of you walked, it was a familiar path around the Jackson settlement. Shorter than normal patrol.

“I almost thought Elle was with me instead of you Miller with you talking like that.” A light laugh made Joel feel more at ease. ‘That’s more like normal. Am I sounding like Elle? Dammit.’ He wondered if he needed to worry about his own language use. The sun was high behind the clouds, peeking through every so soften as the crunch of grass and dirt was heard from both of your boots.

You still weren’t saying much and Joel had no clue what to say to get you talking. He suggested about halfway that you both sit on a rock. You offered it to him first on account of his knees. Joel’s face contorted into a scowl and refused to sit until you sat down first. When you saw that he was serious, you sat down and patted the space left on the rock and he took his seat next to you. The elder Miller brother turned away from you to keep an eye out as you did on your side. His knees stopped screaming at him that they ached, they only whispered now.

The crisp air reminded Joel that he was alive. His hair flopped with the wind, his eyes squinting slightly to get a better look at the trees and lake in the distance. He flexed and relaxed his fingers, feeling calm when he should be on high alert. Sometimes Joel found himself concerned that he wasn’t built for a calmer life. That he desired the chaos of the unknown instead of the predictability of the commune “Tommy refused to call a spade a spade. The damn place is nice, but it is a commune…” Joel muttered aloud grinning, he recalled discussing it with his brother and him being so adamant about it.

“I mean, a rose by any other name is, well not a rose. I feel like it's supposed to be more poetic than that.” Her answer made Joel turn his head slightly before keeping his face front, he still needs to be aware of any threats.

“I never had much use for The Bard. Especially now. The hell’s that pentameter shit gonna do with a clicker?”

“I’m surprised you remember that Joel. I just remember Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet. Tights and Plays, I think.”

“Full of surprises darlin’, even with these sore knees.” The broad man stood as you turned to look back at him. Hair bouncing on his head and a wry smile on his face. “We should get a move on, ya good?” He saw you nod and stand, though he couldn’t quite make out the look on your face. Maybe he did really surprise you, the thought alone made Joel put a half a pep in his step. His knees would be back to screeching soon enough. This time around you let him lead as you chatted about what the both of you knew about Shakesphere, neither of you remembered much so the two of you started making up things that he may put in a Christmas play.

“There’s gotta be some weird trickster spirit fairies that give good children presents and punish bad children. Plus ghosts, there’s usually a ghost.”

“Hamlet’s daddy came back as a ghost right? Might be a dead relative of whoever the play’s ‘bout. Also need a big feast. There’s also food.”

“Don’t talk about food Joel, I’m going to be even more hungry.”

“They always have turkey legs and grapes and wine at those things I think. I feel like that’s what was always in them plays as props.”

“You’ve seen a Sharkesphere play?”

There was a moment where Joel was quiet. “Now Darlin’ keep this to yourself. I maybe was one of those cousins of Romeo or Juliet. Don’t ‘member which one thou.” he heard you stop walking and looked to see what was wrong. Your face was beaming with this piece of information. Joel almost regretted it, but still wanted you to know. He needed not to think about why, he’d go back in the recesses of his mind again that connected to those emotions. They’re locked away to keep him functioning. “Told ya we gotta move. I’ll leave you right there.” He began walking again and heard your steps move to catch up with him.

It was when the gate to Jackson was within view. It was another period of silence after finishing the conversation about the bard and you asking several questions about Joel’s short stint in acting. He said it didn’t suit him and continued with football. You then asked if maybe he sang since they can sometimes go hand in hand. That wasn’t what did it, Joel heard you tell him that he had the voice for it. Sure it was a little raspy, but what he was able to communicate in verbal and non-verbal cues suited some songs.

Joel Miller is not an easy man to surprise. He’s seen too much, done too much and been through too much for that. At least he thought he had, and when he stopped walking, his foot got caught on some underbrush and he tried to break his fall. His left hand hitting a sharp rock and he went down. Would he be able to get up? How badly was he injured? He didn’t feel his knees right now…nope, never mind. He felt them, even more than before. He heard you yell and move by his side, he was slightly out of it and you weren’t able to lift him all the way.

“Sweetheart, don’t ruin your back. Gimmie a few.” He told you, sure he was embarrassed but he could sulk about that later. Joel really did need to get off the ground. It was cold, he was sore and anything could happen. He’s completely open. Slowly, he rolled on his side and sat up with a loud groan. The worried look on your face made him sigh, he’s supposed to be the experienced one here and he falls right in front of home basically. “Hands darlin’.” Joel stretched his large hands toward yours and you pulled him up, using your body weight to force him upright. He hopped up and took a minute to adjust, large hands holding your small ones. Joel knew he held them a few seconds more than was necessary, but he told himself it was to ensure he was steady so he wouldn’t fall again. But he knew it wasn’t, and it was no help when you decided to walk at side by side with one of your hands on his back. Normally he’d fight you on it as he did with the rock, but he doesn’t mind it being there and understands that you’re trying to help.

Your hand left Joel’s back when you two could see the guards at Jackson’s gate. Joel decided the least he could do was walk you back to your house after reporting in. Nothing unusual, no raiders or clickers. No news was good news. Your house is smaller than Joel’s, it is meant for one person. A small wreath is on your door with a red and gold bow.

“Maria said I had to put something on my door. I’ve never been much for decorating. You have to put it away later.” You explained and unlocked your door, letting him in. You had a couch, kitchen, cabinet with a few books and a dented wooden globe. Tommy had let you keep it and you weren the only person interested in it so he said it was fine you took the thing. All of them had pieces of garland on them. “Sit down Joel, I’m gonna wrap your hand.”

Joel instead walked over to the sink and rinsed his hand under some cold water. “Nah darlin’ you’ve done plenty.” Apparently, you’d had a small first-aid kit. Joel wondered what you may have traded to get one, or what you may have done to earn one.

“If you won’t sit, then I’ll wrap it while you stand. You might want to be nice to your knees though. I won’t have you falling in here.” You’re teasing him, he doesn’t hate it. Joel resigns himself to his fate and plops on your couch, noting some mistletoe on the wooden post next to the loveseat he just sat on. It looked like it was slapped up there. “Maria and Kelly decorated, hence all the garland, I never noticed that though.” Your eyes rolled and you sat next to Joel and took some supplies out of the kit, dabbing and cleaning his hand before adding some clean gauze and wrapping it. You taped it and Joel complemented your work, it was better that it was covered as to stave off an infection. He knew he didn’t need anything like that.

Not thinking about it, Joel patted your thigh before standing up, “Thanks darlin’. Didn’t mean to cause trouble. I’ll be on my way.” He realized he needed to go. It’s been too long any he can’t. He needs to wrap his head around this if he can. Maybe not his head. He just made room for Elle in his heart, would he have room for you too? Did you even want to be there? You’re friendly and talkative with everyone, it just seems special because Joel is aware of how prickly he is. But you’re not treating him differently, he’s reading into it. He may be heavily starved for companionship.

Those heavy boots of his start to carry him toward your door. He’s bid you goodbye, but you grab his arm. “Darlin’ I-”

“Joel, wait.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then stops. His boots step toward you, Joel looks down at you, trying to discover what’s on your face, but it’s something he recognizes - longing. “Could I just, just close your eyes Joel.” He shakes his head, but your grip on his arm doesn’t wane, he allows his body to relax with an exhale.

“S’alright. Don’t feel ya hafta do-”

“I don’t have to do anything. Yes, I know. Just close your eyes will you? This is the most I’ve heard you talk today Joel.” He ended up bending forward slightly, tipping his chin down and his face toward you. A pair of soft lips touched his cheek, right above his graying beard. “M-Marry Christmas Joel. That’s all I wanted to do.”

A smirk spread on Joel’s face, “Sure about that Sweetheart?” He was aware he was playing a dangerous game, but it was enjoyable. He was one for some risk. You huffed which he found adorable, your other hand found its way to his cheek and pinched him.

“I’m sure Joel Miller. Go on home and rest. Your back and knees will thank you. Dream of the bard while you’re at it.” Joel and you chuckled and you lowered your hand as he caught it, kissing the back of it and then your forehead.

“Not going to dream of some puffy bard darlin’, got someone a lot sweeter on my mind. Merry Christmas to you too. Sleep well.” Your grip on his arm loosened and he dropped your hand, heading to the door before opening and exiting your home. He stood on the porch to hear you lock it, then he started walking to he and Elle’s home.

Joel Miller might be ready to let someone in this Christmas.

Joel Miller’s Sweethearts: @morallyinept @fhatbhabie @goodwithcheese @trulybetty @for-a-longlongtime @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @musings-of-a-rose @rhoorl @laurfilijames @avastrasposts @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @megamindsecretlair @saturn-rings-writes @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @maggiemayhemnj @undercoverpena @alltheglitterandtheroar @pedrodascal @linzels-blog @lincolndjarin @pedritapascal @sp00kymulderr @movievillainess721 @perotovar @pamasaur @magpiepillsjunior @yorksgirl @guelyury @legendary-pink-dot

[whydontyousaeso]

“Text you later?”

Jey uso x fem Reader

Type- Angst to fluff

Warnings- betrayal in a sense, Jey being a asshole/idiot

Summary- you and Jey used to be best friends before he became a part of the bloodline. Now that he’s finally out of it you realize how nice it is to have your friend back.

A/n- hiii! I hope you all are feeling good! Stay safe lovely’s !

“Jey! What’s up uce?”

You ran up to your best friend and gave him a quick side hug. He laughed and pushed you around playfully.

You two had been best friends for years now, always inseparable.

You had worked together multiple times for mixed tag team matchups, and just having him in your corner in general.

Not only did you work together, you hung out a lot. You and Naomi were best friends so you usually spent a lot of time with her and the twins. It was always pleasant to have some people to look out for you.

“Hey Jey! How you doing?”

“It’s been alright, just got to get this match over with.”

You nodded and smiled tightly. Jey had been feuding with his cousin, Roman reigns, for the last couple months. This time it was all or none.

“You think this is the right choice though?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna quit. He can’t get me to stop.”

You smiled and get him a hug.

“Good luck J, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah! See you later Uce!”

“I quit! I quit!”

You bit your lip as you heard the bell ring. Roman had got Jey to quit.

This was bad.

You watched Roman celebrate as Jey was left in the cage with his brother who was supposed to be out on injury.

He didn’t see you later.

“Jey? It’s been a while. Call me back when you can”

You hit the button to hang up and sighed. You hadn’t been able to get in touch with any of your friends recently.

The only one who pitied you a phone call was Naomi, who told you she had to focus on her health.

Atleast you got that much.

Your eyes lit up as you saw your phone screen light up with a text message.

One from Jey.

“Look, I’m gonna be busy for a while. Don’t bother to text or call. It’s distracting.”

Oh.

You just put the phone down and rolled over in bed.

It was just a while.

“One! Two! Three!”

You sat up and gasped, feeling the adrenaline take over every scratch and bruise you had on your body.

You had finally won the championship.

Years and years of work was put into that.

And at wrestlemania?

It was a total dream.

You held the title belt close to your chest and leaned back, taking in all the cheers from the crowd, there was not one boo.

You made eye contact with Sasha at the end of the ramp and smiled, not to be petty, but as a thank you.

You would talk to her later and hang out with her.

Eventually you did make your way backstage, and after getting congratulated by everyone you were on your way back to your rental.

“Hey uce”

You turned around to see Jey standing there, smiling.

“Hey Jey, what’s up?”

“Not much, you know the good looks good around you for real.”

You smiled and chuckled a bit.

“You want to go get drinks with me Jey?”

“Nah I can’t tonight, but hey, Roman wants to talk to you.”

Oh

“Is that all you came here to tell me?”

“Not exactly but-“

“Goodbye Jey. Talk to me when you don’t have Romans hand up your ass controlling you.”

You turned your back and walked away, rolling your eyes.

Two years had passed since then.

Two years.

Obviously you had lost the title.

But Roman hadn’t.

You were on raw and was working with Becky as a tag team and your run had been pretty good.

But you had your eyes on Rhea.

What better way then to start the feud but at survivor series?

You had also talked to Seth prior to ensure that you would have his back when Damian tried to cash in.

The plan was simple, you would go out there when Rhea went and then Randy’s music would hit.

And that’s how it went.

Unfortunately Rhea had busted you up a bit, so as soon as the match was done you had to go backstage to get stitches.

People came and went, telling you how well you did and congratulating you for your title shot.

“Hey uce!”

You looked up from your phone to see a very nervous Jey.

But a different Jey.

“Hey uce, what’s up?”

Long story short, you went to get drinks with him at a bar close to the hotel you were staying at.

As the alcohol flowed you realized how much you missed your best friend.

Topics had varied all night, going from new pets to other family matters.

You were just glad he was talking to you.

“Sooo, any new love life updates?”

You laughed.

“No, surprisingly not. “

“You still single?”

“Yeah, what about you Mr sly guy?”

“Same here, man that kinda sucks though”

You just shook your head and stared at your water.

“You been interested in anyone?”

You looked up, he was staring at you like a lost dog.

To say there hadn’t been feelings between you two would be a lie.

It just left when he went to Roman

You shrugged

“Maybe, what are you asking for?”

He looked away for a moment.

“Nothing in particular.”

You nodded and grabbed his arm, feeling the small bit of alcohol you had wear off.

“Let’s go back to the hotel. It’s late.”

You walked down the hallway, Jey on your shoulder to keep him from stumbling too hard.

“This one yours?”

“Yeah, thanks y/n”

You helped him open the door and stood across from him.

“Text you later?”

You smiled and stood up on your toes, pressing your lips against his.

You grabbed onto his face gently, rubbing his cheek as you felt his hands naturally place themselves on your waist.

It was always natural with him.

You pulled back and smiled, stepping backwards from the doorway.

“Definitely text you later”

[ikeromantic]

Auughh.... almost forgot!

Mitsuhide + Victory + 😘

Thank you!

We mustn't forget Mitsuhide! A little victory for our foxy warlord. Approx. 1000 words, fluff and light spice.

Mitsuhide dismounted in a cloud of dust and ash. It clung to his skin and hair, mixing with the slick layer of sweat from summer sun’s merciless heat. The village was a ruin. Most of the houses burned in the conflict, and what hadn’t been destroyed was looted and befouled. 

The chatelaine surveyed the desolation with a stricken look. She’d never seen the aftermath of a crushed uprising. “Mitsuhide,” she said his name after a moment, and he turned his head to look up at her where she still sat her mount. “I thought you said we won this one.”

“We did. The Oda forces were victorious. This is one of three villages overrun by the battle between our soldiers and the daimyo’s rebels.” 

She took a breath and then nodded. Her expression went from one of shock and horror to a determined frown. “I see.” Then, “We have a lot of work to do.”

Mitsuhide helped her dismount and together, they walked through the center street. Most of the villagers fled when the army approached and only a few returned. They watched with sullen gazes, still afraid of further violence.  Still angry at what they’d suffered.

The chatelaine didn’t seem to notice the hurt and anger. Or rather, she chose not to as she pushed her sleeves up and approached a small group of bent-backed farmers. “Hi there!”

They didn’t respond at first, but when she walked past them to start cleaning up the rubble, the farmers went to help with mumbled hellos and thank yous. What began as an uncertain and awkward team turned efficient after a little while. The villagers began to tell her their stories, to point to where they used to live, and share what they wanted and needed.

Mitsuhide stayed out of it. He had to. He was the wicked kitsune, the bloody left hand of the Oda. Capable of any violence, any outrage. It did not matter that he dirtied his hands with ash and mud doing the same cleanup. Or that he ordered his soldiers to help. People would never trust him with their hopes and sorrows. 

This was her strength, and he envied her for it. And loved her because of it. She caught him watching and flashed Mitsuhide a shy smile. Her face was smeared with ash and her clothes were filthy from mud but she’d never looked more beautiful. When he smiled back, her cheeks flushed and she quickly went back to work. 

They called a halt at sundown, unable to safely work in the dark. There were two homes rebuilt and another two cleared and repaired enough to sleep in. The villagers offered them one, and Mitsuhide accepted. His men set up tents nearby and settled in to camp for the night.

The Oda forced shared out food and cookfires, and soon the survivors of the battle soldier and villager alike, were celebrating. Wine and harder liquors lubricated the day’s new friendships. Someone began singing and soon, most of the camp joined in. All but Mitsuhide and the chatelaine, who watched from the front step of the little house. 

“I didn’t expect to see a celebration tonight,” she told him. She leaned her head against his shoulder, tired from the hard work and the journey before it. “I thought they would be too sad. And exhausted!” 

Mitsuhide kissed the top of her head. “You underestimate the sheer joy of still being alive. Even knowing what was lost, they cannot help but celebrate.” He paused, his gaze narrowed. “There will be more tears later. Grief as life continues on past the loss of loved ones. But tonight, there is only relief that they have a chance to begin again.”

She nodded understanding. Her cold hand sought the warmth of his grasp, and she burrowed closer to his side. 

He put an arm around her, understanding what she sought without words. Reassurance. Stability. The certainty of his presence and love. Mitsuhide pulled her tight against his side. Even in victory, it was easy to see how fragile these moments were. How delicate the construct of love, the framework of a life. 

“Let’s go to bed, little one,” he said softly, layering his meaning. 

She looked up at him, surprised. “You can’t be serious. I’m filthy! And you are too!”

Mitsuhide grinned. “Why wouldn’t I be? A little dirt never hurt anyone. And I have reason to celebrate.” He caressed her side, sliding his hand down to her thigh. “My lover is by my side, and I am alive to appreciate her.”

“But the soldiers - and, and the villagers. What if someone hears us?” Her entire face was hot now, and she looked away, unable to meet his bright gaze.

“What if they do? They might know I love you?” He kissed the top of her ear. 

“Mitsuhide!”

He laughed at the quaver in her voice, such a heady mix of excitement and embarrassment all at once. It was why she was still so very much fun to tease. Mitsuhide nipped her earlobe and whispered. “What if I promise to smother your moans with my lips and swallow every sound you make as I remind you how very much I adore you?”

“You -” She cleared her throat. “You can’t really do that.”

“Ah. Now you’ve challenged me, little mouse.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. 

Her eyes were wide and bright in the silvered star light. “You’re kidding, right?” The words were half-hopeful and equally worried he would agree this was all a joke.

Mitsuhide kissed her then, a passionate tangling of lips and tongue, fingers tangling in her hair. She tasted of sweat and smoke and that certain flavor that was just and only her and if he had been teasing before, he wasn’t now. He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her and feel her pleasure and his in that sweet twining of limbs and flesh and heart and soul that said ‘I am alive and in love and my lover is with me!’ 

When he drew back for a breath, he could see she wanted him to. Desire lit her gaze and heated her skin. She didn’t argue as he tugged her inside and closed the thin-framed door behind them.

[seancekitsch]

maybe richie feeling a little possessive?

okay this is set with same reader character as pure evil and that one drabble!

“Rich, why do I have another hickey?”

Her annoyed tone breaks the silence in the apartment. Richie cracks an eye open from his spot on the bed and stares at the crisp white ceiling. It looks like nothingness, like the big fat nothing he saw between the slash to his throat and waking up in the hospital.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, smile widening on his face. She groans and abandons the vanity mirror propped up on her writing desk. Richie feels the bed dip as she works her way up next to him. When he finally opens both eyes he sees her hair still in rollers and her make up half done, her satin robe still on. She pouts at his smile.

“I told you I was wearing a dress with a low neckline to this thing,” she whines, and Richie can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe I didn’t have time to go out and buy you a necklace,” he jokes.

She slaps his chest lightly.

“And now the press is gonna see you as the put together one and me as some floozy.”

“Floozy?” he repeats, laughing again.

“Yes, floozy! I got your story to Hulu and now I’m going to have to defend my credibility all night.”

Richie rolls off of his back to put an arm around her waist, but quickly it moves until he’s pushing up the hemline of the little satin robe. He delves his scarred hand under the soft material until it comes up to cup her ass, squeezing playfully.

“You are credible, baby, you’re the only one that knows the full story.”

And she knows that, she’s known it since the beginning. She’s the one that pursued him.

She moans, quiet and subdued, and Richie thinks he’s probably won this one.

“Isn’t it enough that you’ll be there with me?” she whines, most of the bite gone from her tone.

“You’re kidding, right?” He asks, pulling her against him, “They need to know you’re mine. And listen, if they don’t get the hint they’re gonna end up like bar guy.”

He’s joking, but she knows what happened to the last guy that tried to flirt with her. The nightly news reported him found with his hands and eyes removed less than a week after he had attempted to put an arm around her at the bar.

“Oh god, don’t even talk about him,” she groans, any anger or upset she might have had over the incident seems like its burned away to simple annoyance, “They’ll know I’m yours. I’m bringing you as my date.”

“Yeah yeah,” he mocks, all fake annoyance, “let me have this.”

He thrusts against her ass, “Let me have you.”

“You have me, Richie, now let me get ready in peace.”

He absolutely refuses, his hand groping from her ass to her hips to her chest as his mouth connects sloppily to her shoulder, lips wetting the satin.

“Give me five more minutes.”

“Give yourself more credit than that,” she laughs, and rips herself from his grasp.

She makes her way back to the vanity and Richie just knows he’s going to call TMZ on himself later tonight. Everyone in America is going to know the latest Woodsboro survivor has her. Like a genius has their muse, he thinks. Everyone will know he sold his story to the first pretty writer who got him, and she got him in return. As far as he’s concerned, they’re both on a long term career path now thanks to him.

[randyortonofficial]

title: show me something real (click here for the ao3 version) pairing: cody rhodes/randy orton (candy), hhh/punk if you squint SUPER hard word count: 4975 important tags: shower sex, dirty talk description: People in the locker rooms might be throwing a fit about the return of CM Punk tonight. They may just be trying to find Hunter to bitch about it and demand an explanation, but it’s not something Cody and Randy think too much about, not when they have each other to focus all their attention on.

Because who the hell cares about CM Punk when Cody’s husband is back in town to give him the dirtiest sex in the world whenever they want?

It was the best Survivor Series night of Cody’s career.

Previously, it was Survivor Series back in 2008. That was the one he and Randy won, both of them being the sole survivors out of all the ten participants in the match, and thusly, a foreshadowing to their eventual future together.

They weren’t the sole survivors of this one. It was a special Wargames matchup, focused mainly on destruction instead of elimination, and Randy was only in the match for the last ten minutes, but he had finally returned back to WWE after being out for eighteen long, long months and Cody was going super stir crazy as a result.

Hell, he almost wished for another injury so he could keep recovering at home with his husband by his side. The pec injury did give them some precious time together, but there was still about eleven months to account for.

Not anymore though.

Now, Randy is back.

Randy is back, and here to stay, and now he and Cody can get it on in a major way.

(As Randy had so eloquently told Cody when he landed in town last night).

“We had a pretty tough match, huh?” Randy lets out a long sigh as he stretches his arms up high. “We should uh… shower off.” He crosses his arms over his chest before leaning against the wall. His steel blue eyes roam all over Cody with purpose, his gaze lingering in certain places. “Clean up some before going out. Don’t you agree?”

Cody’s grin spreads so wide across his face that it actually kind of hurts. As he opens his mouth to enthusiastically agree with him, he’s cut off by someone’s strong arm wrapping around his shoulders from behind.

He and Randy frown and both furrow their eyebrows together before looking to the man at Cody’s side.

“Hunter,” Randy starts, “can me and Codes have a moment?”

“Just excited to see my favorite couple back in WWE!” Hunter praises. “Hey guys, tell me something.”

Cody and Randy both immediately answer with, “something,” and as Hunter rolls his eyes, they both chuckle at each other.

They both really are just so funny sometimes.

“What do you guys think of Phil being back?”

“What’d you offer to get him back here?” Randy asks. “A win against Roman at Wrestlemania?”

“A spot on WWE’s board of directors?” Cody adds.

“All the ice cream bars in the world?”

“A chance to set Colt Cabana on fire?”

“Your big, fat co-”

“Are you guys gonna keep going back and forth with each other until I leave you two alone to do whatever the hell it is you guys do now?”

“Yup.” Randy raises his eyebrows and holds out his hand. “Can I get my husband back now?”

With a sigh, Hunter unwraps his arm from Cody and holds up his hands in defeat. “He’s all yours. Whatever you guys do though, uh,” he shoves his hands into his pockets and looks them both over as they hold onto each other’s hands, “don’t make it too obvious what you decide to do with each other. You know what I mean?”

“You mean hardcore sex with each other?”

Hunter blinks at Randy a few times before pressing his lips together in a strained, but still fond smile, the kind that comes along with mentoring Randy Orton for near two decades. “Good to have you back, Randy.” He pats Randy’s shoulder before looking to Cody and telling him, “keep making sure he stays out of trouble.”

Randy groans and rolls his eyes while Cody chuckles. “Hey!” Randy calls out. “I’ve been on my best behavior for thirteen years now!”

Hunter holds up a middle finger in the air as he continues down the hall, right before disappearing down another one.

“How come nobody ever tells me to make sure you stay out of trouble?” Randy mentions while he and Cody make their way down to Cody’s locker room.

“Because I never get into it.”

“Neither do I.”

“Not anymore with my influence.” Cody squeezes Randy’s hand and smiles over at him. “Kidding, obviously, I know a lot of it was your doing. However,” he walks in front of Randy, still holding his hand, and raises an eyebrow, “I would like for you to be on your bad behavior real soon.”

With a smirk and a rising hum, Randy tilts his head back to show off the column of his throat. He proceeds to look Cody over and licks his lips as he surveys his body, so much different then from when they first got together all those years ago.

He’s no longer some toned twink with a hairless chest and delicate limbs. He’s got huge biceps now, hair all over his chest and leading down chiseled abs, he’s got that pec tattoo of his dad’s name and his logo tattooed on his bicep (after Randy talked him out of doing it on his neck), and he’s an absolutely manly man now.

He always was, but it’s much more prominent this time. Cody carries this distinct alpha-like air, he walks the halls with confidence and commands everyone’s attention…

… and yet, despite what Randy sees in front of him, he still sees that toned twink with the hairless chest and delicate limbs.

Randy takes in a deep breath as he lets go of Cody’s hand. “We gotta go wash up,” he tells him in a low tone.

And suddenly, he’s bending down onto a knee to hoist Cody up over his shoulder like he weighs nothing at all. To Randy, this will always be the case, and Cody is thankful that, after all this time, Randy can still pick him up and throw him around with ease. It was something he worried about when he started to gain muscle, if it would affect their sexual dynamic, but it’s only intensified what they’ve been doing with each other.

As Randy continues down the hall, Cody raises his head to look down the other way. There’s a blush on his cheeks and it grows much more seeing Phil at the other end.

Phil tilts his head. He blinks at the two men as he casually waves their way.

Cody waves back before Randy disappears with him down the hall.

Phil from the past would have given Cody and Randy a lot of shit for being so open about doing this kind of thing where anyone could see, but they’ve all let bygones be bygones at this point. Phil might not have changed in some ways, but he has in others. It depends on who you ask whether they think Phil has truly changed.

People in the locker rooms might be throwing a fit about the return of CM Punk tonight. They may just be trying to find Hunter to bitch about it and demand an explanation, but it’s not something Cody and Randy think too much about, not when they have each other to focus all their attention on.

Who the hell cares about CM Punk when Cody’s husband is back in town to give him the dirtiest sex in the world whenever they want?

  After setting Cody down on his feet on the floor, Randy leans in to murmur into his ear, “get undressed.”

And he doesn’t have to tell Cody twice.

His boots have to come off first before he can pull down his tights. He hears the water running nearby and raises his head to see the wonderful sight of a naked Randy under the showerhead. It motivates him to quickly rid the rest of his ring gear, to the point he almost trips stepping out of his tights, and Randy has to laugh at his dramatic, eager display.

“Fuck, you really couldn’t wait, could you?” Randy asks as he leans against the tile, his big arms crossed over his even bigger chest. “Were you that desperate, baby boy?”

Baby boy.

The familiar nickname cuts through Cody’s facade and sentences it to death immediately. That bravado of a confident man who can command the ring and inspire others with his effortless leadership has now reverted back to that lost boy still trying to figure out his footing in the world and had to rely on Randy to help him through to the other side.

Cody’s mouth goes dry looking at Randy. He has to grab onto the bar in the shower to steady himself as he steps onto the tile, water gently splashing under his feet. His grip tightens on the bar and he’s whimpering out, “yes, daddy.”

Cody was really proud of himself for gaining all this muscle. Being a pretty boy was fun, and he misses it at times, but he’s at a place where he’s fully confident with his body. People take him seriously now, they see him as the leader he’s worked so hard to be, and it’s great to no longer be wondering what his purpose is or what sort of path his career is going to take.

But Randy sees him for all that he is.

Randy sees him as that confident leader, but he also still remembers Cody as that boy who desperately needs to be taken in his big, strong arms and fucked relentlessly until he forgets everything but his name.

Cody’s so big now, but Randy is, somehow, even bigger.

Randy is the most shredded he’s ever been in his life. Fuck, even his muscles have muscles. Cody’s pretty sure Randy developed muscles he never knew existed and it’s such a crazy thing to think when they’ve been together for over a decade but Randy continues to blow his mind, day in and day out. Those muscles, the arms and the thighs, oh god, the thighs, Cody can never get over those beautiful fucking thighs, and then there’s his cock-

His thick fucking cock. Thicker than any other part of his body.

A hot breath pushes past his pretty, pink lips as he watches Randy’s fingers wrap around his hardening erection. His own fingers are twitching, wanting more than anything to reach out and touch but despite his best efforts, he’s frozen in place. As if being held there by another presence so strong that he can’t even attempt to step into it, not without permission-

“What are you waiting for?”

Cody looks up into Randy’s eyes with his own, bright and blue, as Randy pulls him right up against his body with his other hand.

Randy looks down into Cody’s eyes with his own, a cold and calculated steel. He smirks before letting his tongue swipe out along his lips. Gently, he lets go of Cody’s hand and he holds his own up in the air, appearing to offer himself in his entirety to the other man. With Randy’s implied permission, Cody finds it in himself to finally touch him and he can’t even help the moan that falls from his lips as he grabs Randy’s biceps. The heat in his eyes is prominent watching his hands move up those strong arms he’s fantasized so much about, a heat that burns up, flares hot when they make eye contact again.

Cody swallows his arousal down enough for him to speak. “I missed you like this,” he says just above a whisper. “Thought about it so much.”

“Yeah, daddy did too,” Randy’s voice rumbles out as he leans in, so close their foreheads almost touch but not quite. His hands then slip down Cody’s back to grab his ass, squeeze it tight in his hands, and he grins at the gasp Cody exhales against his lips.

“Thought about this every day, you know that?” He then moves his mouth by Cody’s ear to whisper, “getting my baby boy alone again, doing whatever the fuck I want to him.”

With a whine, Cody closes his eyes. “God, I need you,” he pleads. “I can’t wait anymore for it-”

“You were pretty fucking obvious about it out there,” Randy scoffs. “You were calling the shots out there just fine earlier. Telling everyone what to do, taking charge and taking names and all of a sudden I walk out there…” He bites at Cody’s earlobe to drag it out with his teeth, and as Cody moans, Randy is fully pressing their foreheads together. “... you turn right back into a slut for me. And you let everyone knew it too, I fucking saw you spreading your legs out there when I gave that RKO to JD-”

“I-I couldn’t help it, daddy.” Cody’s hands move over Randy’s shoulders and down his broad pecs. “Reminded me what it was like… all those years ago in Legacy…”

His hands continue downwards over his abs. Twitching fingers run along the ridges of Randy’s muscles and press into the skin just to feel how firm and hard they are. Cody bites back his moan at first before deciding to let it out, because it’s just the both of them here in this shower and he has no reason to hide how much he wants the much bigger man in front of him. Sure, they could just do this back on Cody’s tour bus, but where’s the fun in that? Why do it there when they can do it here, just like old times?

“Back when I had no idea what I was doing,” Cody chuckles quietly. “And I just followed your every word. Watched your every action. Trusted you, at every second, to take care of me…” And as his hands roam back up to grip tight at Randy’s shoulders, he looks back into his eyes before telling him, a low voice that drips with desire, “begging for you to take me.”

In an instant, Randy has his hand pressing Cody to the wall by his throat. It has Cody gasping out for air and darkens his eyes so much so that you can’t even make out the bright blue anymore, eyes now a mystifying shade of absolute lust.

Randy bites his lip as his eyes encircle Cody’s features. Those mystifying eyes and those pretty, pink, and naturally pouty lips. There’re crinkles at the corners of Cody’s eyes now, a fact of getting older, and his life experiences show better over his features, no longer that perfect babyface from years ago, at least not in appearance’s sake, but in state of mind, this will always be the core of who Cody is.

Doesn’t matter how many press conferences Cody does, how many suits he wears, or how many people he’s able to lead, because he will always bow down to Randy Orton.

Then, now, and until the end of time.

Cody watches Randy with baited breath, eyes as dark as the night that they’re heading for together. He can barely focus because he’s so aching hard and dying for Randy to soothe the pain that came from waiting for him to come back, waiting month after month after month, fuck, so many of them and it seemed never ending, just like the building anticipation between them in this shower.

Randy narrows his eyes. “And that’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks quietly. “For me to take you again?”

Cody swallows heavily. He nods as best he can. “More than anything, daddy.”

“Well, you don’t gotta worry anymore, baby,” Randy murmurs as he begins to lean in. “Cause daddy’s back home…”

Although he takes Cody’s lips so ruthlessly, it is done with great care. Randy is taking whatever his heart desires, but it just so happens that Cody’s heart wants the same exact. It’s just the way Cody likes it when it’s been as long as it has - powerful, insistent, and so sloppy that it makes even the most experienced people blush.

Layers of steam shroud their bodies as the hot water rains down, which besides the benefit of adding to the growing atmosphere of lust, provides much relief to their sore bodies from earlier in the night. The droplets steadily roll down their wet skin, it drips down Randy’s pec and onto Cody’s stomach and it’s just wonderful how they’re so connected right now. Their tongues are eagerly rolling over each other’s mouths, slipping past the plush lines to dance within, and they’re biting too, biting and sucking, licking and pressing, gasping and moaning in between.

As far as Cody and Randy are concerned, they have the whole night to show each other just how much they’ve missed one another.

It’s not certain how long it’s been when they pull away, and it’s just barely. Cody rolls his lips back between his teeth as his eyes dip to Randy’s lips, and his breath hitches when Randy wipes his tongue out. Randy gives Cody’s throat one more squeeze before his hands latch onto his hips, and then he’s leaning forward to sink his teeth into Cody’s neck. It pulls a loud gasp from Cody’s lips, his eyes widening before they flutter shut, and his head rolls off to the side as Randy begins to suck at his skin.

Once.

Twice.

After the third time, however, Randy is pressing his tongue to the column of Cody’s throat to tantalizingly lick all the way up to Cody’s lips, though he doesn’t kiss him again. He just lets his breath hotly ghost out over Cody’s mouth and Cody is whining out loud because fuck, Randy’s lips are right there, what the fuck is he trying to pull? Why is he depriving him, depriving them?

“I wanna see that mouth get put to work, boy,” Randy drawls. “Understand?”

Cody’s eyes light up immensely.

He can’t remember the last time he’s wanted to suck off Randy so bad. Fuck, he can’t remember when he’s wanted anything ever in his life so bad.

A nod from Cody is all Randy needs to growl at him, “good. Show me what those pretty, dick-sucking lips of yours can do.”

And then Randy is gripping tight at Cody’ hair to force him down onto his knees. He’s pulling Cody’s face forward and thrusts against his lip with a groan, and Cody is moaning as he sticks out his tongue to curl around the head. He lids his eyes open at the other man and grabs onto his hips, nail pressing into the skin.

“C’mon, I don’t got all day,” Randy warns. “Take me in, now.”

Cody doesn’t protest, doesn’t say a word as he licks right up Randy’s shaft before taking him in, all the way. Randy lets out a loud moan, eyes closing and his head lulling back.

“Fuck.” Randy’s fingers thread back into Cody’s blonde threads. “Holy fuck, Cody, that’s it.”

He’s moaning, over and over, as he quickly moves his mouth. The heady taste of Randy’s musk, that tinge of saltiness and ounces of sweetness drive Cody crazy. Randy carries just a little bit of everything to keep Cody coming back for more, and he decides to deepthroat him again, and again, and again, with relative ease.

Cody’s letting all the fantasies he’s had about their reunion guide his movements. His hands can’t help but to wander over Randy’s firm, sculpted abs and he moans feeling how hard he is under his fingertips. The knowledge of what a big, powerful man he’s somehow managed to marry sends flares of arousal throughout his body, causes his hole to clench around the nothing, and he’s whining out after pulling to the tip.

“Fuck, I missed my daddy.”

“Miss him telling you what to do?” Randy breathes out as he yanks Cody back by his hair to stare down into those beautiful eyes. “Making you do what he wants?”

“Can you fuck my mouth?” Cody asks so sweet. “Please, can you fuck it? Use me? Please?”

“Fuck yeah, I can,” Randy groans out, steadying Cody’s head with one hand as the other steadies his cock at the base to rub it along Cody’s pretty lips. Randy moans as Cody gives the tip a little suckle, because Cody can’t fucking help himself when Randy tastes so good, better than anyone and anything. “Yeah, open up wide for your daddy, baby boy…”

The moaning Cody gives is muffled as Randy pushes past his lips to sink his cock down his throat. He has no time to even grab at Randy to keep himself grounded before Randy is grabbing both of his wrists to pin them high up on the shower tile.

“Take it, Cody, be a good boy and take it,” Randy growls at him as he sinks his nails into Cody’s wrists. Cody is gagging around Randy as Randy continues to push in, but when he can’t anymore, he starts to swivel his hips around, moaning as he does so.

Cody is settled on his knees, right at Randy’s mercy. He is helpless as Randy keeps him pinned to the wall by his wrists, and he only needs one hand to do so. One hand practically crushes his wrists in their grip as the other hand threads right back into his hair to tug at the strands, and it makes his scalp burn but only in the best way, as it always is with Randy.

He’s using Cody just like Cody wants. No regard for his being (at least on the surface) and using his mouth solely as a vehicle for his own pleasure. Cody can’t even move, the only thing he really can do is gag around Randy everytime he pushes in too far or flex his fingers, maybe even tense his thighs. Sometimes, he looks up to Randy and even through the tears beading at the corners of his eyes, it’s clear to him how much Randy is enjoying his velvety hot mouth.

As Randy continues to fuck his throat raw, all Cody can think about is being a good boy for him. Being a good hole and letting Randy take him, wreck him, and destroy him, just like he did all those years ago, because things never really do change, don’t they?

With a loud groan, Randy pulls Cody down all the way and swivels his hips once more. He tugs at Cody’s hair and begins to pull him to the tip, and with the way Randy’s breathing is getting, Cody can tell he’s about halfway there. It means he has other ideas in mind, and in all of Cody’s excitement and hopefulness, he’s whining out at his beloved, “I’ve been wanting you, Randy, I’ve always fucking wanted you, god, I need you to give it to me, I need you to just fuck me and I’ll be a good boy, I’ll always be a good boy, please Randy, please daddy, please, please, please-”

“God fucking damn, Cody,” Randy huffs out a laugh as he looks up to the ceiling. He shakes his head in amazement. “Thirteen fucking years, and you’re still as much of a desperate slut like you were the first time. You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

The praise has Cody giving a little trill. “I am?”

“Always. Now get the fuck up and turn your pretty little ass around, boy.”

The moment Randy removes his hands from him, Cody is instantly scrambling against the wall to pull himself up to his feet. He goes to turn around but Randy is doing the honors for him, easily turning Cody to shove him up against the wall and grabbing at his hips to pull him back so his ass can present itself.

His ass is actually much bigger than it was in the past. There’s much more meat to it, and it’s obvious in any pants he wears, or right now, what he doesn’t wear. It grew with him like his muscles, and Randy has always been so appreciative and supportive of the work Cody has put into his body. They got together when Cody was leaned and toned, more of a pretty boy than the obvious manly man he now is, but Randy still treats Cody the same way he did all those years ago.

And right now, Cody is so thankful for that.

It hurts when Randy pushes into him, but it’s what he expected, what he needed. Cody needs that pain, the excruciating stretch, the heat of Randy’s hands on his body to keep his back arched so pretty as the water continue to cascade over them from above. Randy pulls out to the tip just to slowly push all the way back in and Cody’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head as he lets out a long, and almost whiny moan out into the open.

“That’s it,” Randy murmurs as he continues with his movements - slow, but each thrust packing a hard punch. “Taking me so good, baby boy. Doesn’t matter how many times I fuck you, you’re always gonna be tight for your daddy, huh? The perfect fit?”

Cody whimpers and nods. “A-Always, daddy-”

He gasps as Randy grabs his throat from behind. His eyes fall shut and he doesn’t move a muscle as Randy leads him up to stand up a bit more, until they’re both standing up straight. Randy’s breath is ghosting over his ear, hot air expelling from his mouth in short bursts as he breathes in and out.

“You said you were always gonna be good for me, right?” Randy grumbles into his ear.

“Always,” Cody whispers. “Wouldn’t be anything else.”

Randy’s lips slowly widen into a proud smirk. “Good boy,” he whispers in turn before kissing Cody’s cheek. “Daddy loves you, you know that?”

“I-I love you too-”

Cody’s voice cracks when Randy squeezes his throat. He’s gasping out for air before Randy spanks him, the sound cracking throughout, and he’s crying out right as Randy begins to give it him with all the strength he has and fuck, is there so much of it. If it was Cody from years ago, he might even say it’s too much but he can take whatever Randy throws at him now.

Randy is brutally hammering away into Cody, hand under Cody’s chin and over his throat, fingers almost crushing Cody’s jaw with the kind of hold he’s adopted. It hurts, god, it hurts, it’s never hurt like this before, but it’s never felt so damn good like this either.

Cody is a willing slave to Randy’s desires. He has no more theory of mind, no thoughts beyond RandyRandyRandy and please more and daddydaddydaddy, he is a mere shell, a being comprised of all of Randy’s dirtiest fantasies and he can’t think of a sweeter fate. He cries out with each slam of Randy’s hips, over and over again. Even with his eyes screwed so tightly shut, the tears manage to find their way out to roll down his cheeks. Randy is truly giving him everything and it’s shocking, tragic even, that none of the men Cody has been with could ever induce this in him. All of this wonderful sex, the best sex in the world, locked behind the closet of a straight man that only Cody held the key for.

“Oh my - fuck - R-Randy, Randy,” Cody sobs, “Randy, please-”

“Yeah, say my fucking name,” Randy growls. “You like this, baby? You like being used like a fucking slut?”

“Yes, daddy, just your slut, daddy,” Cody gasps.

“Want daddy to fill you up? Give you his come, is that what you want, baby boy, huh? Is it what you need?”

“Need it, daddy, please, need your come-”

“I bet you fucking need it, you little whore,” he growls out as his other hand pulls one of Cody’s back to keep it behind Cody’ back, grip on Cody’s wrist so hard it’s pressing against bone, and it hurts, it’ll leave bruises with all the others that are forming on Cody, and Cody loves it, fuck, he welcomes it.

He loves everything Randy does to him, and he loves it even more when Randy fills him up with a long and loud groan. His wrist and chin hurt like fucking hell, to the point it makes him wanna cry, but it’s what he needs, he needs to be dominated, to be told what to do and not given a choice because this is what he knows so intimately.

Despite everything that’s happened in his life, and all Cody has gone through, this is where he feels the most comfort. It’s how he can escape from the responsibilities he has now. No thoughts beyond letting Randy take control of him, take care of him, he gets to let Randy call all the shot and he can go back to being that lost boy still trying to figure out his footing in the world, the boy who had to rely on Randy to help him through to the other side.

Cody comes along with Randy, the both of them pretty much in sync now with the amount of times they’ve fucked at this point. Randy’s grip on Cody begins to loosen in the wondrous afterglow of their shared orgasms, and the gentle, butterfly kisses he trails over Cody’s neck and shoulders is a welcomed juxtaposition to his harsh treatment mere minutes ago. Cody’s shoulders slump with relaxation under the kisses and he flexes his fingers in appreciation for the newfound freedom. Randy’s hands are kneading his sides in soothing ministrations and after letting his lips graze up Cody’s neck to his ear, he whispers, “I really missed you, Cody.”

Cody tilts his head to the side. He lets out a long sigh, just to get his breath back, and is able to muster a smile. “You think being all soft now will make up for the way you fucked me just now?”

A chuckle rumbles up from Randy’s throat. “Abso-fuckin-lutely,” he drawls. “Is it working?”

After pressing a gentle kiss to his husband’s lips, Cody tells him, “yeah. It really is.”

[westofessos]

I’m feeling like being delusional tonight and this is all I’ve been thinking about for weeks so come with me, won’t you?

Re: MJF and the person in the devil mask

I have a few points. Please know before you reply and reblog and tell me I’m dumb that I’m absolutely aware that this isn’t what’s happening. But I need to be delusional for my sanity, okay? Okay.

Who was at Wembley, and would’ve had an opportunity to steal the mask?

Who was the first person Max ever referred to himself as The Devil to? And who Max said “the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he doesn’t exist” to?

Who was clearly being set up as Max’s next big feud a few months ago?

Punk.

I’m just saying. He was the first person Max ever called himself The Devil to, and the first person Max ever said that phrase to, and why? Because Punk said it first.

Also, the first time MJF wore the devil mask was for the Casino Battle Royale, where he then came out at the end after Punk won the World Championship to tease their next feud.

And it was obvious that they were setting up Punk vs MJF III again after Punk came back in June, before All In. I mean, Punk created a fake belt just so they could go at it one more time.

Also. Full Gear is November 18th.

The very next week Dynamite is in Chicago, just days before Survivor Series is in Chicago (where everyone expects Punk to show up). I know it’s a tradition to have the Thanksgiving Eve show there, but why would TK book a show in Chicago the same week WWE has a PPV there? He knows full well that attendance is going to be shit.

Unless they reveal who’s behind the mask at Full Gear, and he shows up in his hometown the next week on Dynamite, a show he hasn’t been on in over a year.

I know it’s not going to happen, but if it turned out that his firing was all a work? That he actually made up with The Elite (and maybe they were the other guys in the masks helping him??), and the Jack Perry story was made up (I mean honestly TK, you feared for your life? Sounds like a bit much)? If literally every single one of us got worked? That would be the greatest twist in history.

Also he’s my favourite and I desperately want him back and not in WWE. But alas. It’s probably going to be Jack Perry or something.

[omegawhiskers]

RAW 6/11/23

WAR GAMES

It's the Raw after Crown Jewel and this episode did a good job at establishing matches for Survivor Series. As you can see from the above graphic, each team is missing one person. It's obvious that Drew McIntyre will join The Judgement Day while Randy Orton will join team babyface. Drew's only appearance on this show was driving up to the building, getting out of his car, only to get back in and drive away. I was surprised he never made an appearance again.

The showed opened with Seth Rollins giving props to Sami Zayn for stealing Damian Priest's briefcase. Like a good GM, Adam Pearse took it back. Rollins decides that Sami deserves a shot at his title tonight. Our main event is locked in.

Priest is not happy with the tom foolery that went down at Crown Jewel, but tonight he teams with Finn Balor to face The New Day in what was a short match. Next week, Priest and Balor will defend the titles against Cody Rhodes and Jey Uso.

Shinsuke Nakamura vs. Akira Tozawa was another short bout. The positive is that Tozawa got some offense. Next week it will be Nakamura vs. Otis.

Finally we got a longer match for the number one contender for the Intercontinental Title. The four-way match consisted of The Miz vs. Bronson Reed vs. Ivar vs. Ricochet. This was a pretty exciting match with some neat spots from Ivar and Ricochet. The ending of this was bizarre. Miz pinned Reed, while Ivar pinned Ricochet. The ref counted as Ricochet kicked out, but Reed stayed down for the count. Even though The Miz won, both the ref and commentary were perplexed. They gave the impression that Miz did not win because Ricochet kicked out. Also, The Miz as a babyface is not working. He needs to reinvent himself in some way because this run will get stale pretty fast.

DIY lost to The Creed Brothers in a inferior match compared to last week. Julius and Brutus have been signed to Raw, including Ivy Nile, who was in a Battle Royal for a shot at Rhea Ripley at Survivor Series.

I can't fault this Battle Royale, it was pretty good. Xia Li took out Becky Lynch on the way out. Pearce remove Li from the match as Becky couldn't compete. Niki Cross is still doing the stare thing...I think she needs help...Nile got the spotlight as she was one of the last remaining women in the ring. Zoey Stark won the challenge and will get a shot at Rhea Ripley for the Woman's World Championship at Survivor Series. I liked how this match unitized talent.

Moving into the main event, I really thought Drew or Damian would get involved in this match, but this was just a straight up wrestling match where two men gave a good performance. I think this match may have been roughly 20 minutes. Of course we got a post match brawl with the Judgement Day, Cody and Jey. A furious Pearse came out to break things up and a made a War Games match for Survivor Series. It will be Cody Rhodes/Seth Rollins/Sami Zayn/Jey Uso VS. Damien Priest/Finn Balor/JD McDonagh/Dominik Mysterio.

While this wasn't the best Raw for matches, it did move pieces in the right direction for Survivor Series. I didn't feel any segment was unnecessary, and I liked that Adam Pearse inserted strong authority throughout the show.