Prompt: “Hey, I wondering if you were interested in doing a part 2 of the Elias fic I originally requested, ‘Learning the Ropes’? [Smut, plot, both?] Surprise me!”
Pairing: Elias Samson x TransMale!Reader
Warnings/Promises: suggestive wrestling positions, FLUFF, SMUT, Italics = Elias POV
Word Count: 1270
Note: Thanks for the request, hun! I hope you all have enjoyed this week of answered requests, and continue to send them in. I’m sorry they take a bit to do, but I’m looking for grad schools; wish me luck! Let me know if you guys have any ideas for fics, or would like to be added to any tag lists. Have fun reading!
In the three months since your first sparring lesson with Elias, you had really tightened up your move set. There had been a few more team-ups, and one or two scripted collisions backstage. The crowd’s cacophony every time your stepped out into the ring really made you feel like you the world was going in all the right ways.
The fist flying towards your face abruptly brought you back into the present. You rolled out of the way and backed up against the ropes.
“Hey, earth to Y/N?” Elias asked. His brow scrunched in worry, but you smiled brightly at him.
“Sorry. Just got lost in…” you looked off into space trying to find the words. “You. How far we’ve come. How far I’ve come. Everything feels… right. Like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be,” you sighed.
Elias nodded in agreement. “Do you need to take a break? It’s been a-“
“No. I’ve got this.”
You were working on a double finisher. It was your job to set the opponent up in the corner, then Elias would pick them up and halo powerbomb them. Between the two of you, there were a few options for the setup. The biggest problem was doing them to Elias when he knew you so well. You bit your lip in concentration as he stood in one corner waiting for your next attempt.
It was funny to watch him. Y/N was brilliant, and he had been getting much better since his arrival. Elias’s only regret was that Y/N didn’t get a chance to kick Miz’s face in before the shake-up. It didn’t show often, but Miz’s words from Y/N’s first match were still strong in his mind. It didn’t matter how many superstars he’d beaten up since then, nothing was ever enough.
When does healthy hunger cross over into unhealthy obsession?
Y/N’s eyes flickered with realization. Like watching an incandescent light bulb come to life. Elias squared his shoulders and prepared myself for the ‘attack.’ Y/N spun and feigned a roundhouse kick. Once Elias had reacted, he found himself lying on the canvas. He was hauled to his feet and guided to sit unsteadily on the top turnbuckle.
“Good. Good. I think that one is the most effective so far.” Gingerly, he slid back to his feet and braced himself against the ropes.
Y/N turned away, deep in thought. “But how early can we use it? Whoever we use this on is going to have be pretty out of it already.” Y/N growled. “It’s only going to be effective if we’ve been wrestling for twenty minutes at least.”
Never enough.
Elias let out a deep breath and pushed out of the corner. He made sure the room was empty, then slid up behind Y/N and wrapped his arms around his torso. “You know, if we train for about ten more minutes, the last of the others will have gone home.” He smirked as Y/N slightly turned his head to look at him.
“And if I say yes?”
Elias nodded.
Then tossed Y/N over his shoulder and dropped him to the canvas.
You rolled a little ways away, gasping in surprise. “You suplexed me.”
Elias grinned. “So? We’ve still got nine minutes of training to do.”
“You suplexed me!” You eased to your feet and paced the outside of the ring. Elias spun in the middle, never giving you access to his back. You ran at him, purposefully bypassing him so you could bounce off the ropes. With a sling blade, you had Elias on his back. He kicked out before you could count to three and flipped you to your back.
Oh, this could get dangerous.
Elias leaned down almost nose to nose. Y/N had confessed to being… intrigued by his eyes. All is fair in love and war, right?
Apparently, Y/N picked up on what he was trying to do and licked his lips. It was enough of a distraction for Elias to soon find himself on his back. This time Y/N counted much slower.
“One,” he breathed. “Two.”
Elias kicked out and moved to stand in a corner. Y/N huffed and was making to his feet when Elias rushed by with a clothesline. Y/N reversed it into a pin. He sat on Elias’s waist with his hands on his shoulders, grinning. This time Elias counted, matching Y/N’s smirk.
“One.” He rolled his hips, making Y/N shudder. “Two.” Another thrust. Another shudder.
Elias rolled out from under him.
“Seriously?” you gasped under your breath. As annoying as that was, the results were racing through your veins as you felt your skin flush under the training adrenaline. Your heart was pounding, and you wanted nothing more than for the locker rooms to be empty.
Elias looked off towards the doors and saw the last people leave. Before he could offer, you grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the ring. You had him shirtless and shoeless before you’d even made it to the locker room. He helped you out of your shirt while you unbuckled his belt. While he wriggled out of the new jeans he’d been stretching out, you fought to get out of your boots. He caught you in a kiss against the wall and worked his thumbs into the last pieces of your ring gear to get them out of the way.
He broke away with a curse and fumbled around for his wallet. You quickly grabbed the small bottle of lube from your bag. It was hard not to giggle as Elias triumphantly held up the metallic packet before working it onto his length. You pulled him closer by his hip to stand in front of you. When you reached to give his lengths a few pumps, and while Elias prepared his fingers for you, you let out a contented puff of breath.
“Y/N?” Elias’s worried voice broke through your haze. You looked up with him and hoped your eyes said everything your voice could not.
Familiar.
It felt familiar. Relaxed. Like puzzle pieces fitting together in a puzzle that had been done a hundred times before. Perfect.
Y/N leaned his head on Elias’s chest as he began to work him open. The little whimpers and sighs that come out made his cock twitch in Y/N’s hand. When they were both ready, Elias slowly eased in Y/N, watching his face as his head fell back into the wall.
His eyes were closed. Lips parted. Hands gripping his shoulders.
Adrenaline from training combusted with the awe of belonging to each other. Y/N met his thrusts. He found the rhythm that made them both see stars. He felt hot. And shivered with something more than cold. Their mix of groans and skin slapping against skin kept Elias chasing giving everything to Y/N. He watched his face contort in bliss.
Trusting. Radiant. Unbelievable. Everything.
Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.
Already you were at the precipice. Elias wasn’t far off either by the faltering of his thrusts. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.
“I’m right here, Elias. I’m right here.”
He smashed his lips into yours, swallowing your cries as your legs flexed and blood rushed in your ears. You swallowed his cries as well as he thrust one more time and stilled. His head fell to the wall behind you, putting your shoulder just in reach for a soft kiss. Your chests met as you both heaved. It was in these moments that you loved to learn the rythm of his heartbeats. Elias managed to speak first.
“Shower?”
“Shower.”
He eased out of you then led you to the showers for was destined to become round two.
Prompt: “I wanted like….another wrestlers manager costing him a title kinda like Zelina does for Andrade? and Angry sex with maybe some choking.” – @crossfit-princess-sethie-boo
Pairing: Samoa Joe x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, angry Joe, SMUT, choking, orgasm denial, orgasm bribing, implied further smut
Word Count: 1430
Note: I’ve never written Samoa Joe before, so please take pity. I hope this is what you wanted sweetie, and I hope you all like it. Comments and/or gif reactions are greatly appreciated. Tag lists and requests are open as always. Now please enjoy!
You had met in NXT. It was a dance: bumping into each other backstage, distracting each other’s promo’s, sitting silently across from one another in catering. Nobody seemed to notice. And Joe was patient. It was months of setting your skin ablaze with just looks before he cornered you in that dark hallway for the first time. The dance changed from flirting to secrecy. When you got left behind with his call-up, you thought it was over.
It wasn’t. Far from it.
The scheduling was difficult, but you made it work. You took turns showing up at each other’s shows, even if a few months apart. There was sex, yes, but you also helped each other. Joe was the one to suggest two months ago that you should try your hand at valeting.
Little did he know it would lead to his downfall.
He was in the middle of the ring, threatening anybody who thought they were ‘man enough’ to fight him for the opportunity to challenge Jeff Hardy for the US Championship. He froze as Sanity’s music began to play. The crowd went wild as Killian stepped out. You hovered close behind, effectively hiding from Joe. Once Killian had his attention, he moved to one side so you could step forward dressed in a business suit jacket and skirt. For a split second his face lit up, then he played it off as mock surprise. Joe tossed his mic away and called for a ref. The bell rang as soon as your ‘client’, one of three, entered the ring.
Both large men kept the other on his toes. Joe wasn’t used to being thrown around like Killian was capable of. Killian was not used to the quiet rage that Joe was capable of. It was beyond Roman or Aleister’s skills. For all of the mutual frustration, you could read admiration on their faces. But you could not stand back and enjoy the match as you wanted. You had a job to do.
Killian argued with the ref over the near five-count of strikes. Joe was recovering on the apron. You grabbed his ankle and attempted to sweep his legs out from under him.
Joe did not budge.
In the background, you heard Corey make some remark about your relationship in NXT, but all you could think about was the fire in Joe’s eyes. You were in trouble and a lot of it. Thankfully, Killian finished with the ref and pulled Joe back into the ring. But for the rest of the match, Joe kept an intense gaze on you. When he lost the match due to another one of your distractions, hot rage flashed in his eyes.
Killian saw the wrath burning in your direction. He stood in front of you the whole way up the ramp to backstage. When he offered to walk you to your dressing room, you declined and said you could handle Joe yourself. You didn’t actually feel that way, but it was the only way you could be alone to see him.
You don’t know how he did it, but Joe was waiting for you in your dressing room. He was leaned against the desk in the room with his arms crossed. His face was impassible, even for you, and he said nothing while you flustered through half-formed sentences that died once they hit the air. You shed your jacket. He nodded towards the door. You locked it. Though it was probably unwise, you kept your back towards him.
“Welcome to Smackdown, Y/N.” His voice made you shiver.
Turning, you flattened your back against the door. “Thank you.” You swallowed dry air. “How much trouble am I in?”
Joe let out a long, slow breath. “I have to say, this is not what I had in mind when I suggested being a manager.” He stood and took a few meandering strides towards you. “And definitely not with Sanity. What about Nikki Cross?”
“We have an understanding. And why are you so angry? It was your idea.” You gasped and smiled as Joe wrapped his hand around your throat.
“I meant me when they finally moved you up.”
“You?” You searched his face for the truth. “Since when do you need me?”
Joe loosened his grip. “I always need you.” He looked at you like it should have been obvious.
You wet your lips. “Then why didn’t you say that? Then we wouldn’t have been in this mess.” It became harder to breathe as Joe’s grin widened and his grip tightened.
“Speaking of… I believe I owe you something for your… help tonight.” He released your throat, chuckling at your gasp for air, and switching his grasp to your wrists. He stole your oxygen next by kissing you hard and ravenously. You moaned into his mouth every time he rolled his hips into yours. “That’s it, Y/N,” he whispered, “make it up to me.”
With one hand he controlled both of your wrists, with the other he reached up under your skirt. You bucked down into his touch, spreading the juices already leaking through your bottoms onto his fingers. He tugged them to one side. You grit your teeth and hissed as he used two fingers to pull your essence up to your clit. Joe tightened his grip on your wrists as you thrashed under his touch. He spread your slick to your clit, thumbing it harshly enough to make you cry out. Joe nosed your head to one side so he could nip at your neck while his fingers worked torturous magic bringing you to the brink. Your breathing shallowed and you closed your eyes, ready for release.
Joe withdrew with a chuckle that made you whine. “What, did you think I would let you come so quickly, baby girl? You should know better.”
“Please, Joe. I’m sorry. I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again, but I’ll-“
“Oh no. I have a different deal in mind.” He pulled you away from the door. He helped you out of your clothes and had you lay on the desk. You did your best to keep your legs open, though each drag of his fingertips across your skin made you want to close them with a shiver. Joe trailed his fingers closer to your sex. His chest heaved with resisting taking you immediately. “If I could make another suggestion,” he bypassed your heat and splayed his large, warm hand over your lower stomach, “perhaps you should shift your loyalties.” His hand continued traveling up to your breasts. You gasped as he dug his fingernails into the valley between them. “Take your time. I’ve got all the time in the world to work an answer out of you, baby girl.”
Frantically you licked your lips. “There’re other people to convince than me.” You squeaked as he tweaked your nipple. “I’ll consider it?”
“Close enough. For now.” He moved his ring gear and other obtrusive fabric out of the way just enough to bring his ready length into your line of sight. It made your mouth water, but you knew that would have to come later.
Joe was seconds away from running out of patience.
With those last seconds, he eased into you with a series of deep breaths. He braced himself on the desk on either side of your hips while you adjusted to him. You gave him a small thrust.
Patience ran out.
You screamed as he pulled nearly all of the way out before thrusting fast and hard in again. Again. Again. Again. Your vision failed, and your eyes closed. Your mouth fell open to freely give Joe all of the sounds that spurred him on. And on. And on. The denied orgasm from before came rushing to the surface. Joe growled as your walls clamped tighter and tighter. You were both right there. You opened your eyes as Joe rubbed your thigh.
“You keep screaming like that baby girl, and I won’t be able to hold back… much longer.”
“Then don’t. Joe, I’m almost… please.”
Joe reached up and took control of your breathing. Darkness danced along the edges as you watched Joe thrust closer to coming. He let go of your throat. The rush of oxygen sent you careening over the precipice, pulling Joe down with you. He helped you ride out your high, then eased out.
“Technically,” he panted, “I didn’t get the answer out of you that I wanted.”
In your haze, you let your heart take over instead of your rational mind.
“Oh, no. Then I guess you’ll have to try and convince me again.”
Prompt: “Hello 🙂 Can you pls do a fluffy Jey Uso where reader is an actress (she’s Latina lol) they’ve been dating for years and the Usos are having another rap battle w/ the new day and one of them says something bad about you and he gets all defensive and when he comes home the next day you mention it and he gets all blushy and can it end with implied smut if you can pls”
Pairing: Jey Uso x Latina!Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: FLUFF, implied smut
Word Count: 1030
Note: I am not someone gifted with the ability to rap/rhyme, so please accept a battle of wits. I think this came out super cute, so if you guys could confirm that I would really appreciate any comments/reblogs you could send my way. Thanks to the anon for requesting Jey; I don’t think I would have ever written for him otherwise. I hope you guys like it!
You smiled listening to Jey’s laugh. Kofi had made some joke, sending both Usos into a fit of giggles. The New Day couldn’t keep a straight face either.
“Man,” Jimmy sang, “you keep passing the same jokes in new ways.”
“All day, every. New. Day!” Xavier picked up. “We can’t help it when its oo-so easy.” He grinned wildly as Kofi and Big E bumped at his shoulders.
“You can pun around all you like.” Jey had a lightbulb moment and snickered. “But like Wood’s trombone, you can only play the one unsatisfying tune, no matter how much you change the tempo.”
The other two members caught Xavier as he reeled back. You couldn’t help but giggle out loud at how offended he looked. His next words made Jey’s face fall and made your breath hitch in your throat.
“My girl sounds lovely no matter what I play. While your lovely lady is stuck with your un-awed ass. Speaking of Y/N, how is she faring? You keeping her… satisfied? Or do you believe her poor acting skills?”
Jimmy moved quickly to hold Jey back as his brother leapt for Xavier. He had dropped his mic, but you saw him say “don’t be talkin’ ‘bout my girl. Leave her out of this.”
Everyone dropped their mics while inching closer to one another. E spoke up. “Leave her out of this? You’re the one who brought the girls into this in the first place.” Surprisingly it was Jimmy and Kofi trying to keep everyone from losing their heads. But the once friendly banter had morphed into something more fueled by honor and ego than fun.
The following match did nothing to disperse the warm tingling between your legs. Jey was intense. It kept ringing in your head that in a way he was defending you. The way he would growl at Xavier or Big E made you rub your thighs together. You groaned seeing those big shoes of his whack either of them in the face. There was a similar reaction every time the camera would zoom in on his outstretched hand waiting to be tagged in. When the match finished, you turned off the TV and had a nice hot bath.
You sent Jey a picture of you half submerged in the suds with a message.
I can’t wait to thank you for defending my honor.
Jey’s reply was pretty much illegible with his flabbergasted fingers.
The buzz under your skin had not diminished in the next twenty hours or so. Should you dress up? Should you dress down, normal? Should you dress at all? You wanted to be wearing more than your pj’s.
Your question was answered when he arrived a lot sooner than you were expecting. Despite the surprise, you rushed to meet him at the door, barely giving him time to drop his bags before you were flying into his arms. Nor did he get a word of greeting out before your lips were on his. Needless to say, you had missed him.
“Damn,” he breathed when you finally broke away, “if I didn’t want to be with all the time, I’d be gone more often just so I’d get that.” He hummed in delight and gave you quick peck on the lips.
“What are you talking about? You could be gone for five minutes to get pizza and you’d get this welcome.”
Without missing a beat, Jey grinned and said, “then can I step out and back in again?”
You laughed and cupped his face. “No.” This time you nibbled on his bottom lip, making him rumble and hold you tighter. You stepped back, giggling when he leaned forward to follow you. “You know, I had to turn off the TV last night and be alone after your match.” You grabbed both of his hands and pulled him further into the apartment.
“Oh really?”
“Mhmm.” You pulled him to sit on the couch. “The way you stood up for me? Defended my honor? Made me all tingly inside.” Jey gasped as you straddled his waist. You tilted your head when he didn’t look up at you. “Jey?”
He rubbed his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. If I hadn’t brought Wood’s trombone-“
“Francesca?”
“The second, yes. If I hadn’t brought her into it Woods couldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if he offended… you… or anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes flitted around the room.
You rested your arms on his shoulders. “Xavier has no such power over my feelings. That pobre alma solitaria is only words and ring tricks. You on the other hand,” you ran your fingers up along the back of Jey’s neck, “are an electrical storm on the senses.” You bit your lip, now fully holding his attention, and wiggled your hips. Jey bucked up to meet you and let out a stifled groan. His suppressed smile was practically glowing under his skin.
“Baby, you keep moving like that and…” he bit down on his bottom lip and gripped at your hips. Then his grip loosened and his shoulders slumped. He seemed deep in thought, so you kept silent and reassuringly stroked your thumbs over the curve of his neck. “Woods did speak out of turn. You are an amazing actress, there’s no denying that. But…” Jey sighed and started again, “Have you ever-“
“Faked it?” You smiled as he looked up sheepishly at you. “Honey, I have never had to act or pretend or fake anything with you. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you.” With a dip of your head, you nosed across his cheekbones. “Now how about you let me slip into something more comfortable-“
“Than your pajamas?” Jey teased.
You nipped at his lip. “I was thinking about something more along the lines of… nothing?”
Jey’s eyes lit up, then darkened promisingly. “Oh, really?” He flexed his shoulders under your touch. “Mind if I join you for that?”
There was nothing to reply except with a wink. You left him on the couch and swayed your hips on the way to your bedroom. Just outside the door, you turned and encouraged him to follow you.
He was off like a shot.
pobre alma solitaria = poor lonely soul (I know its not true, but it felt right in the fic)
Prompt: hello! I see your requests are open and I’m wondering if you’d write something for Tommaso Ciampa from NXT? I’m not sure what kinks you’re comfortable writing but maybe choking and dirty talk could be fun with him. There’s a serious lack of Tommaso smut in the world unfortunately ☹
Note: This is a little shorter than usual, but it’s also one of the dirtiest things I’ve written. Thank you anon for the request, I hope this is satisfactory! My requests are still open, and there are three more being answered this week. Tag lists are open too. Please let me know how you liked the fic with reblogs and whatever reaction gifs are your favorites. Enjoy!
The ongoing storm that was the feud between Johnny Gargano and Tommaso was fueling your boyfriend more than the world knew. The second he made it to the dressing room where you were waiting for him, he pinned your front to the door and shoved his hand down the front of your shorts. You shivered as his hot breath panted across the back of your neck until his lips were by your ear.
“Are you going to behave tonight? Scream on my cock loud enough for everyone to hear you?” He plunged two fingers into your channel. “Answer me.” You could only moan in the affirmative as he reached up under his shirt that you wore and pinched at your nipples. “No bra tonight, huh? You were just waiting to be my whore tonight.”
You frantically shook your head. “Yes. Only yours.”
Tommaso growled and bit on your shoulder. “Strip.”
His eyes glowed dangerously when you paused. They lit up with delight as you shed his shirt first. Due to the chill and his earlier touch, your nipples were perked and alert. You dropped your shorts by themselves, leaving yourself only in your underwear. Tomasso growled, unhappy with your choice. You bit your lip to keep from smirking. With your thumbs tugging at the hips of your underwear, you dragged them down your body and bent at the waist. Again you paused, giving him time to appreciate how wet you already were.
You straightened and looked over your shoulder for your next command. He curled two fingers, summoning you to him on the couch. You stopped in front of him when he held up his hand. He stood and removed his shirt, then placed your hands on his hips over his gear. You sank to your knees, taking his gear with you. He stroked his length in front of your face, groaning as you licked your lips. You held out your tongue but squeaked when he pulled you to your feet. He sat back on the couch, taking you with him.
For a second time, he thrust two fingers into your heat. His cock was right there but he wasn’t going to let you have it. Not yet. Instead, he curled and alternated his speeds ensuring you were a shivering mess in no time. Your whimpers grew louder as he thumbed at your clit and sucked down on your neck. He rumbled against your skin with the way you clawed across his shoulders. He scissored you open and swallowed your cries with a feverous kiss.
“You like this?” He stopped all movement, leaving you quivering. “My oh so brilliant Y/N reduced to series of holes to fuck.” He nipped at your ear, chuckling with how you whined. “Just a needy cunt with no more intelligence than a cock sleeve. Whose cocks sleeve?” He leaned down to catch your nipple between his teeth.
“Y-yours,” you stuttered. “Please…”
Tommaso hummed and bit at the side of your breast. “What is my whore begging for now?” He curled his fingers again, making your hips jolt.
“Please, fuck me,” you moaned.
“The angel of NXT wants me to fuck her?” He gripped your face and brought it close to his. “And what would my personal whore give me in return? What could you possibly have that I could want? That I could need more than this pleasure of bringing you to the brink, of controlling you, of this moment?”
“Your release. Your cock sleeve screaming your name.” The room tilted as Tommaso twisted you onto the couch and pinned you beneath him. “Please let me help you cum.”
“Oh, I’m going to cum. But my angel wants me to fuck her? Then fuck you I will. Until you don’t have a voice to scream with.”
You arched with a silent shout as he sheathed himself in you fully. Bracing against the armrest above your head, you screamed and yelped. Tommaso gripped your hips hard enough to bruise; you could do nothing to meet his pace, only take the onslaught of fire raging through you. In a moment of mistake, you bit down on your lip so you could hear his grunts and under-breath muttering.
Tommaso slowed his pace to deep, hard thrusts. “You said you were going to scream. How can you do that if you’re biting your lip? Do you want me to stop?” He cut off your plea with a harder thrust. You reached down to grip at his hip, but he batted your hand away. “Use your words, angel. Who is going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?”
“Tommaso,” you weakly moaned. You tried again, “Tomma-s-s-“ but he gripped your throat.
He restarted his earlier furious pounding. You maintained bracing against the armrest as best you could with one hand while the other guided Tommaso’s fingers over your pressure points. He shuddered as your walls fluttered around him. Chasing that sensation again, he toyed with your clit.
Your vision was beginning to lighten when his hips stuttered to meet yours. Knowing he was close, he tugged you to your knees. You held out your tongue, humming in delight when he gave you his length this time. He shuddered and let his head drop back while you blew him to completion. You opened your mouth to prove not a drop was wasted. He fell back onto the couch and motioned for you to join him. You eagerly curled up next to him, draping one of your legs across his lap.
“You still owe me a scream,” he panted after a minute. He waited while you thought.
Again, Y/N is filling in on Raw, which turns out to be a whirlwind of crazy. Due to her combined actions last week and this week, she receives some unfortunate news.
Pairing: None
Warnings/Promises: some wrestling violence
Word Count: ~1800
Note: Welp, didn’t call New Day/Bar outcome correctly, but now I can write it how I would and not have to worry about keeping up here. Though it would have been funny/amazing had I been right. Please let me know what you think will happen next, who is Y/N afraid of, and what you think of the fic as a whole. Any and all feedback makes me giddy and makes me write faster. Now please enjoy!
There were about two seconds of Roman Reign’s music before the crowd erupted into boos. Because of the orders of Stephanie McMahon, he was going to have his rightful chance at the Money in the Bank Match. Apparently, he had made a good case. Since he and Jinder had denied each other their opportunity, then it was only fair that they should both get the match they deserved. Tonight’s opening match was going to be Reigns versus Jinder for the last space in the contract match.
Roman posed on the ropes, his fists raised in the air. He was mid-roar when Sunil Singh began Jinder’s entrance. The Big Dog stepped off the ropes and waited for his opponent to make it to the ring. He couldn’t help but grin as Jinder winced and held his bandaged waist. If last week’s spear was even a smidgen of what Roman had planned, the modern-day Maharaja was in for a world of hurt.
They fought for a while. Both of them began to get increasingly frustrated when the other kept kicking out. Roman staggered into the ropes, and Jinder motioned to Sunil. The crowd tried to warn Roman, but Sunil slid into the ring behind him while Jinder distracted the ref with his injury. Sunil kicked into the backs of Roman’s knees until he lost his balance. Then the smaller man was gone, even as Roman tried to swing at him. Instead, he turned just in time to catch Jinder and have his back bounce off the turnbuckles.
Jinder showboated around, unaware that the Big Dog had made it back to his feet. He bounced off the mat after a clothesline. Roman backed into a corner and readied a spear. But Sunil was there again, who dangled his whole body weight from Roman’s neck from the other side of the ropes.
Roman was frantically clawing at his throat when a cameraman hopped up on the apron for a better angle and accidentally bumped the Singh brother. You watched the same cameraman walk around to the other side of the ring while the fight continued. Again he stepped up onto the apron and was too close when Jinder came flying into the turnbuckles. Jinder’s head bounced off of the machinery instead of the padding; he fell like a log. The cameraman stepped into the ring to get close-ups of Roman as he celebrating winning the final Money in the Bank spot.
But they never used the cameraman’s footage.
Roman turned to him and held out his hand for a firm shake. The man sat down his gear and took off his hat and glasses. Your blood ran cold as the audience went wild.
It was Dean Ambrose.
The Shield brothers left for backstage, ignoring injured Jinder and Sunil. Charley was still out, or you wouldn’t have been in this mess. You turned to Renee, who was watching the match with you.
“Hey, sweetie? I’m feeling a little… ill. Can we trade interviews?”
“Sure, Y/N.” She watched you rush away, calling thanks back to her.
As Corey directed the tv audience backstage, “and now to Y/N,” Dean and Roman emerged from Gorilla and Seth nearly slipped running around the corner to meet them. Corey was confused. “Or, to Renee Young I guess.”
Renee waited for a moment while the Shield reunited. “Congratulations on your placing in the Money in the Bank match, Roman. And welcome back Dean. Aren’t you a little early in your return?”
Dean smirked. “Yeah. Just a little. I told the docs I would take it slow for a bit…” Dean tapped at his collarbone. “Then I found that extra camera and came out to help my brother.”
“Yeah, and didn’t tell either of us he was coming, you jerk.” Seth’s smile was bright as he lightly ruffled Dean’s hair. “Glad to have you back.”
“Hey, sweetheart?” Dean said. “We’ve got some catching up to do. But I can tell ya that the Shield is back and better than ever.” He looked up at Roman expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, Dean poked him in the ribs.
“Ow.” Roman gave him a peeved look then rolled his eyes. “And you can bo-lieve that.” He wrapped his arms around the shoulders of his teammates and led the way, leaving Renee alone in the corridor.
Your new interview was scheduled with whoever won the Baron Corbin vs. No Way Jose match. Baron won with a Deep Six, but after several near pins from the fiesta friend. He was angry that the match had lasted so long, and his win was cut short by Kevin and Sami attacking him on the stage. He was able to get away and was headed in your direction.
Again, Corey directed the tv audience to your location. “Renee Young can check to see if… or Y/N. Whoever. What is going on?”
Baron stumbled out of Gorilla and began to stomp down the hall. You were on edge. The sudden appearance of Dean would have been enough to rattle you, but now there was Baron to deal with.
“Baron…” you started.
“What!” he shouted at you. Seriously?
“Could you tell us…” you tried again.
“I don’t have time to talk to anyone or a shorty like you about anything. Now get out of my face.”
Oh hell no.
“Mr. Corbin!” You grabbed a nearby box and stood on it to come eye to eye with him. “My lack of height has nothing on your lack of manners. You may think you are some Big Bad Wolf, and you can huff and puff all you like, but I am not letting you move from that spot until you answer my question. Now, are you going to or not?”
He took a step back and thought for a minute. “Did you just…did you even?”
“I would have if you’d given me time for it. Now can I do my job?”
Baron stuttered for a bit, then flailed his arms for you to continue.
“Thank you.” You took a breath to settle yourself and smoothed out your skirt. “Although you are going to miss out on the ladder match in a few weeks, you seem pretty occupied with several new enemies since arriving to Monday Night Raw. Should you end up in a match in Chicago, which opponents would you most look forward to… um… battling?” Your formerly boiling blood froze over as your anger lost its momentum. Leaving you with a confused lone wolf.
Baron looked down the hall in thought. “Well, miss…?”
“Y/N.”
“Y/N. At the moment I owe Kevin Owens and Sami Zayne a good pair of punches in the mouth. Although, Jose should have lost tonight a lot quicker than he did. And as for Titus World Wide… well. Maybe they aren’t worth the effort,” Baron ended with a smug smile.
“Thank you.” You gave him a curt nod. “Good luck with the rest of your evening.” You stepped off the box and walked down the hall, heels loudly clacking all the way and not looking back.
May 22 – Smackdown Live – Worchester, MA
Billie Kay jumped around the ring as the referee finished counting to three. She was officially going to Money in the Bank instead of Lana, who looked heartbroken at the outcome of their match. You waited backstage with Charlotte Flair who had watched the match on a screen.
“Ms. Flair, Billie Kay has now joined you in the Money in the Bank Match against Ember Moon and Alexa Bliss and others. If it comes down to the two of you…”
“It’s Charlotte, and Billie does not ignite a spark of thought in my mind,” she interrupted. “Once the bell rings, it’s every woman for herself. We both know that, and we are aware of the consequences.” She gave you a kind smile, telling you that was all she was going to say on the matter. “Thank you, Ms. Flair.” You closed your eyes and sighed. “Sorry. Force of habit for people I really respect.”
“Thank you, Ms. Flair.” You closed your eyes and sighed. “Sorry. Force of habit for people I really respect.”
Charlotte’s smile brightened if that was even possible. “I appreciate that. And I appreciate what you said to Alexa the other day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone stand up to her so quickly.”
“Yeah,” you dragged out. “That had the opposite effect than what I was expecting. Mr. Angle talked to Ms. Paige, and this is my last night of the Smackdown journalism crew. It seems he liked I stood up to Alexa last week, and then to Baron yesterday. Which is unfortunate, because I was really looking forward to becoming friends with you guys.”
“Awe,” Charlotte pouted. “I think you’re already friends with a bunch of us. And there’s all the dual-branded pay per views this year.” She patted your shoulder. “Don’t fret. You’re going to be great where ever you are.”
“Thanks… Charlotte. And good luck at Money in the Bank.” You blushed as she held out the ‘teacup’. You held up your pinkie and imaginary cup and toasted her.
Your night was not done. You still had one last interview to do with the Bar after their match against the Bludgeon Brothers. Since Cesaro was going to be in the ladder match, he and Sheamus weren’t really on their hitlist. More like practice.
“Worst night ever,” Sheamus grumbled, leaning on Cesaro as they came down the hallway. “And what’s this about you leaving already?” They stopped in front of you.
“Them’s the breaks. I don’t really want to leave either, but I’ve got college to pay off. Paige hasn’t said anything about it, but are you guys worried at all about the Bludgeon Brothers possibly interfering with the Money in the Bank match? If Cesaro wins the match, it’s very possible that you guys could use it to take the tag team championships away from them.” You held out your mic.
The guys were stunned. They must not have thought about that.
“Huh.” Cesaro tilted his head. “That might explain why they seemed extra angry tonight.” He waved his hands, clearing the air. “If that’s their plain, then let them try it. We’ve got your heads up now and can plan accordingly. So, thanks.”
“No problem. Any last thoughts until I have to say goodbye until then?”
Sheamus wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a quick squeeze. “Nah. We’ll just miss seeing you around. Though I have to admit,” he side-eyed Cesaro, “I look forward to you sassing everyone on Raw.”
You inflated our cheeks and then let the air out. “I don’t know about everyone. But we’ll see how it goes. Good luck to you guys.” They did their pose, making you giggle, then left you to your last thoughts as a journalist for Smackdown.
Y/N, known to the world as Starhawk, and Nightwing help save the live of a pathologist. Life is going well and her niece is visiting, but finding the truth of who hired the assassin leads to some frightening developments.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: some fluff, heck of a lot of angst, deadly influenza threat, violence, blood, needles
Word Count: 3900 (longer than usual, more to say this time)
Note: Oh my God, you guys are going to hate me. Besides the obvious, please let me know what you think about the fic. Requests open. Tag lists open.
Blair Bones shoved the second magazine into his gun. The lab was covered in broken glass and leaking chemicals. He avoided bumping into anything as he stepped closer to his target. The scientist was huddled in the last available corner.
“I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.
“But you don’t have anything I want.” Bones cocked the gun.
“Then why are you doing this?”
Bones smirked. Always that question. “Because someone wants you out of the way.”
Nightwing smirked as the last set of handcuffs clicked into place. The would-be robbers were barely conscious. One was snoring.
“Is that the last of them?” You rightened the last file cabinet and straightened the pencils on the desk. The scientist who belonged to the office had called you several days ago about a possible break-in. And that another might occur. Which it did, but this time you and Nightwing were ready.
“Yes.” Nightwing signaled on his com, “Robin, order ready for pick-up.”
“Cops there in two. See you when you’re done.” Tim left the coms.
You leaned against the wall. “Two minutes. Topic or front door delivery?” Nightwing shook his head back and forth considering.
“As much as I would like to shoot the breeze, why don’t we-“ Both of you froze as gunfire filled the air. “Speaking of shooting… you guys, don’t go anywhere.” The robbers groaned. Nightwing lead the way towards the source of the shots. He slid along the tiles into a lab, you close on his heels. It was nearly completely demolished. A broad-shouldered person had their back to you, while a smaller man huddled on the floor, pleading for his life.
The huddled man attempted to squeeze himself further into the corner. “Please, don’t!”
Nightwing drew his batons. “Hey!”
The broad-shouldered man turned, and you instantly recognized Blair Bones. Gun for hire at a cheaper rate than his skills were worth, you’d never seen him in person before. Nightwing leapt into action, engaging Bones. You ran to the scientist’s side; he was shivering, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over. Staring death in the face usually had that effect on people. You hauled him to his feet, forcing him to hurry as the sparring between Blair and Nightwing escalated. Glass shattered over your head as Bones’ attempt to shoot your partner was redirected in the scuffle. The scientist stumbled, falling behind a table. Out of the way. Safe.
You joined the scuffle, giving Nightwing time to take a breather. In the haste to get away once he realized he was outnumbered, Bones stumbled back into a window weakened by earlier gunfire. You tried to grab his vest to keep him from falling, but he fell with a cry. Nightwing rushed to your side. Below, Bones rolled to a stop. Your goggles zoomed in on a flash-drive drive that fell out of his pocket. The assassin was more focused on getting away than the evidence he left behind and ran off into the night without it. A few seconds later, blue flashing lights rounded the corner and Gotham’s best swarmed into the building to collect the earlier sting.
“Are you alright,” you asked, turning to the scientist. He nodded, shivering. Nightwing helped him to his feet. “Can you tell us why you think you were targeted?”
“I am Doctor Daniel Havran, and I’m one of the pathologists here. I’ve been developing a cure for an H6N1 influenza virus.”
While Dr. Havran continued his story, you went back to the window and shot one of your smaller grappling hooks. Soon you had the dropped flash-drive in your pocket.
Dr. Havran accepted the fire blanket Nightwing used to combat his shock. “A few weeks ago I started to receive threats to stop my work. Such threats are pretty usual for this line of work, so I thought nothing of it. Until now.” He leaned against a lab table. You and Nightwing shared a look. If the threats had been going on for a while, then the threatener had plenty of time to hire Blair Bones. And plenty of time to plan an alternate if Bones couldn’t finish the job.
Nightwing gently took the scientist’s arm. “We can have you in a safe house in five minutes. Right this way.”
Later in the Batcave, you had started to rummage through the files on the disk.
“Bones wasn’t searching for one specific thing, or he didn’t have time. Pretty much the whole office is on here.” You gestured at the screen. “Schedules, RNA strands, a list of everyone’s favorite snack. If he was there to kill Dr. Havran, why take all this too?” Dick, fresh out of uniform, stood behind your chair and rubbed his hands down your back. “And I keep seeing files for the H6N1 virus, but another one stored under that called ‘Thunderbird.’ But that’s encrypted.”
“You can worry about that one tomorrow. Right now you have a visitor about to come through the front doors.”
You were off like a shot, shedding the last of your uniform as you went. By the time you caught up with Alfred in the atrium, you looked like any other young woman your age lounging in your home. You caught your breath and waited for the doorbell. Alfred smiled at you and opened both doors as dramatically as possible to let in a little girl no taller than three feet.
“Auntie Y/N!” She ran straight into your arms, squealing as you lifted her into the air and spun her around. “This place is so big! Do you really live here? Why is the driveway so long, and how come you don’t have a mailbox? I’ve missed you much!”
“And I’ve missed you too, Wiggle Bug.” You put her down and kneeled beside her, looking up at Alfred. “Isi, this is Alfred. If you can’t find me, he’s available for all questions and raids of ice cream.” She gave him an adorable tiny wave. “Alfred, this is my niece, Isi.”
Ne kneeled down to your level and took her small hand in his for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Miss Isi. Do you have a favorite flavor?”
Isi curled into your shoulder, suddenly shy. “Strawberry. Please.” She looked up at you.
“It’s a little late for it tonight, but…”
“Perhaps at lunch?” Alfred finished. When Isi smiled in agreement, Alfred nodded and lifted her luggage to take to her room.
She met the family next. She took to Bruce the most. How could she not? He was like a giant teddy bear around children. Tim promised to show her the best hiding places in the mansion, and Jason let her see his tattoos. She seemed to like one of the black and white ones the best, asking if she could color it in for him with markers one day. Damian helped her disappear in order to show her his new kittens for a few minutes while you filled Bruce in on the night’s events.
“Keep looking through the files. See if there is anything in an earlier, more personal folder about who might have hired him.” He nodded at Dick, who walked in on the end of the conversation, then left for the cave to start his shift.
Isi came bouncing back into the den, just in time to see Dick kiss the back of your neck. “Is he your lover, Auntie Y/N?”
Dick chuckled and buried his head into your hair. “Am I your lover, Y/N?”
“He is my boyfriend, yes. Where did you get ‘lover’ from?”
She crawled up onto the couch to fiddle with a tassel on a pillow. “Mom’s neighbors call each other that. Do you guys hug a lot too?”
“It’s getting kind of late, so let’s show you your room.” You sat Isi on your hip, who drowsily rested her head on your shoulder. You walked by Dick and rolled your eyes. The questions of a child.
While you pulled down her covers, Isi finished brushing her teeth. On her way out of the bathroom, the door closed faster than she was expecting, catching her fingers. You rushed to her side as she began to cry. She quieted down to whimpers as you blew cold air across the injured fingers. You sat her on the bed.
“I’m sorry that big door got you, sweetie.” You wiped away her tears and kissed across her knuckles. “Are you going to be okay?” She muttered something close enough to a yes. The pain must have receded a bit if she could rub her eyes with her injured hand.
“I’d be better if I could have some ice cream.”
If she wasn’t your niece she could have been your child.
“Tomorrow for lunch. I promise. Now,” you kissed her forehead and eased her back into the pillows, “it is time for you to go to sleep. Sweet dreams, Isi.”
Isi yawned. “Sweet dreams, Auntie.” She was asleep before you left the room.
Dick brought you a cup of coffee the next morning as you continued pouring over the flash-drive. “How’s it going?”
“Bruce was right. It was called ‘music money,’ but I found the list of clients. He had a few targets to go after, but Dr. Havran was supposed to be the easy one. I’ve already alerted the other targets and gotten them some protection. Oh, and” you took a sip of the coffee, humming at it’s perfection, “I talked to Havran this morning. Took me ten minutes to get off the phone for all of his appreciation.”
Dick chuckled. “He did almost die.”
“Yeah.” You scrunched up your nose in thought. “But this other virus… Thunderbird… it’s super encrypted.” You continued observing the client list, smiling when you found what you were looking for. “And look at this.” You leaned back so Dick could read the screen.
“Falcone? Seriously?” Dick opened the recording of the video agreement. Seems Bones liked keeping good records in case someone wanted to backpedal on their contract. Dick whistled. If Falcone found out that Bones had a taped hit order of his, there wouldn’t even be bones left of him. “But why a pathologist? That doesn’t sound like him.”
You nodded your head in agreement. “Let’s go and ask him. Tonight.”
The rest of the day was consumed by entertaining Isi. There was indeed ice cream at lunch, and after a private and quiet tour of Wayne Tower, there was a pizza dinner in Bruce’s office. By the time you made it back to the manor, Isi was exhausted. She also complained about her stomach hurting. You figured that last slice was too much for her small stomach. Alfred carried her to bed so you and Dick could get ready for the night’s mission.
For all of Carmine Falcone’s mob boss bravado, it was laughably easy to sneak into his office. There was one tripped signal on the way in, but you made sure the camera only saw a stray cat. You and Nightwing waited in the shadows for only a few minutes before you heard voices approaching.
“I do not want to be disturbed,” Falcone said, pushing the double doors open. “And if that buffoon Bones shows up at our door, shoot him.” He slammed the doors shut and eventually collapsed into his desk chair. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows to his temples. “I know you’re in here. You’ve used the cat before.”
“Damn,” you partner grumbled under his breath. He tapped your shoulder and followed you out into the dim light provided by the desk lamp.
“Why did you hire Blair Bones?” There was no use making small talk, so you cut to the chase.
Falcone shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’d been paying that little lab weasel to create a new virus and antidote. I take it you’ve met?” He nodded as you both remained silent. “He became… erratic. Kept talking about a New Gotham. A new start. Originally, I was in it for the money, and for once didn’t want to kill anybody. He told me he’d found an influenza strain that was weak enough to do what I wanted: create a panic for a cure without wiping out all of my future customers.”
“That sounds a little out of the box for you, Falcone,” Nightwing said.
Falcone got up and took a small case from his bookshelf. “Agreed. But I have learned my lesson. I’ve come to believe there are more psychos in lab coats than in Arkham.” He opened the case where you could see there wasn’t a gun. Instead, there were rows of pills. He picked one, rubbing it between his fingers.
“Wait-“
Falcone swallowed the pill. For a few seconds, none of you moved. You were confused when Falcone gave a sigh of relief.
“Havran told me he had another virus. Thunderbird. Lethal and quickly spreading. I made sure he had an antidote as a stipulation for the funding. These are a few of the test trials, good for emergencies but not for duplication. Also,” Falcone sighed, “Thunderbird was going to be most dangerous to the elderly and to children.”
“A new start,” you whispered.
“Yes. The weasel infected himself the night Bones showed up. The goal was to kill him before then, though after would have worked too. Unfortunately, Bones failed in both. Because of you two.”
Nightwing stepped closer to Falcone. “How long until he is infectious?”
“You two are probably already infected. Carriers of Thunderbird.”
You swallowed hard and grabbed Nightwing’s shoulder. Children. Lethal.
Isi.
Nightwing nodded and called the safehouse from coms. Falcone shook his head when nobody answered. You walked further away and called the manor. Alfred’s words froze your blood.
“You need to get here. Now.”
You left Nightwing to deal with Falcone, racing home.
Isi’s labored breathing stopped you in your tracks. You leaned heavily against the doorframe and did your best not to cry.
“Auntie?” she rasped.
“I’m here, sweetie. I’m here.” You forced yourself to walk on solid feet to her bedside. All the way home you had replayed the incident with the smashed fingers last night. Wiping away her tears. Blowing on her fingers, which she used to rub her eyes. You fell to your knees and took Isi’s hand.
You had infected your niece with Thunderbird.
“How’s my wiggle bug feeling?” You could be strong. You could be there for her. You could fix this.
Alfred tucked in the comforter around her on the other side of the bed. “Fever. Chest pains. She was a little confused when she woke up as to where she was, but we’ve got that sorted out now.” He gave you a small smile and left you too alone.
“Alfred won’t let Damian bring me any kittens,” Isi pouted. She gave your hand a weak squeeze and let out a shuddered breath.
You tried to smile. “You don’t want to get him or the kittens sick, do you?” Isi shook her head no and closed her eyes. You placed your hand on her forehead, terrified when it was so warm. You could fix this. Isi was going to be okay. You can do this. Your ignored tears sank to make your chest hurt. As quietly as you could, you left the room. Alfred was waiting outside.
He spoke before you could get a chance. “She’s stable. And I will call you with any change.” He patted your shoulder and sent you on your way to come up with a plan.
Batman gave his blessing to you and Nightwing to finish the case. He stayed in the cave with some of your infected blood and a list of everyone either your or Nightwing came into contact with. If all else failed, perhaps he would be able to make a few calls and come up with an antidote.
The safehouse was empty and cold. That wasn’t unusual from the outside, but inside? Inside was… terrifying.
Nightwing had sent for someone earlier to check on the guard. He was alright but was being held in quarantine. The atrium showed the struggle from where Dr, Havram attacked him after inviting him in for coffee. There was glass from a shattered vase, a tangled rug that tripped the guard, and an empty injector gun. You audibly gasped at the sight of the kitchen. Crystalline glasses and hot plates had been transformed into make-shift chemical equipment. Papers obliterated with writing covered every other available surface. Where Dr. Havran had run out of paper, more formulas and ramblings were written on the walls.
“Here,” Nightwing said, pointing out a line of text. It was written in larger letters and seemed to be burned into the wall. “With death comes rebirth.” Nightwing grit his teeth. “I am really starting to not like this guy.”
In one notebook you found addresses of other labs scattered between other ramblings. The whole notebook was written backward to only be read while standing in front of a mirror, like Da Vinci’s notes. But that’s what the high-tech goggles were for. With a quick check on a map of Gotham, you found the one that was closest to the safehouse location. It was dying apartment complex across the road from a school that taught almost all of Gotham’s underprivileged children.
Your body vibrated, your nerves hovering between checking every nook and cranny for anything about how to save Isi and rushing to the lab to take from the source. The stay was only a few minutes, though it felt longer. You were glad to be off when the apartment complex came into view. A man sleeping by the stairs said that a ‘crazy dude in a white coat’ had kicked everybody out a month ago by claiming the building was condemned. Technically it was, but the ‘imminent threat’ of collapse seemed to convince everybody this time around. The man even knew what floor he was on.
Once inside the building, it was not difficult to find the spare lab. Dr. Havran had taken over what had been a promising renovation for a community study hall. Most of the 80’s computers had been thrown into the hallway, their broken screens illuminated by the harsh lights freed from their lampshades. The desks had been pushed together to similarly resemble the kitchen at the safehouse.
In the center of it all, Dr. Havran was peering through a glove-case finalizing a vial. While the exterior was being disinfected by a small motor mist, he freed himself of the gloves and stepped back with a chuckle.
“So Falcone tipped you off that I’m unstable? You wouldn’t have been here for another few hours at the earliest if he hadn’t.” He unlatched the side of the case for the vial. Swinging it back and forth, threatening to drop it, he tutted at your attempts to rush him. “I wouldn’t if I were you. This is the only collection of a viable antidote. If I drop it, it won’t survive outside of the glass. You’ll need an injector gun, much like this one. Oops.” Dr. Havran held up the tool with a grin, then smashed it onto the floor. The delicate muzzle shattered on impact.
A shiver of anger crawled up your spine. There had to be another way to use the antidote. You had to keep him talking.
“Then what?” you asked. “You infect the school. The children take it home to their parents who take it to their coworkers who take it home to their children.” Stepping around a table, you moved slowly towards him. “You wipe out a generation, all for nothing.”
“No, not for nothing,” he cooed. “Like mushrooms from dead trees or fresh fields from volcano ash, with death comes rebirth. Gotham will be an example to other cities that it must care for its children more than they are doing now. Make new laws, cast old ones out. Gotham will be the epicenter of rebirth.”
You growled, “innocent children. Did you lose someone? A son or daughter, or a niece or nephew?”
Dr. Havran shook his head in confusion. “Why do I need to be connected with the persecuted to see the need? To help them?”
It was twisted. You had heard enough. And had distracted him enough for Nightwing to circle behind him. He grabbed the vial and sent the scientist to his knees with a flick of his baton. Nightwing placed the vial in the belt clip-on made exclusively for vials to keep them from breaking. He turned to rush back to the manor, but Dr. Havran grabbed his ankle. Nightwing cried out as he fell and found himself under the doctor’s mad attack.
Rushing forward, you kicked Dr. Havran’s claw-like hands away and descended on him yourself. He reached back under the desk and pointed the found gun at your face. You rolled away barely evading the bullets that impeded themselves in the furniture around you. When you fell out of sight, Dr. Havran turned his attention back to Nightwing, shooting at him too.
For a scientist with terrible aim, he had both of you pinned down pretty well.
“How desperate are you for the cure, Starhawk? Nightwing? Who did I infect through you? A son or daughter? A niece?”
Your rage boiled over. With a scream that revealed that he had hit his mark, you flipped over the cabinet covering you. Arms outstretched and hands ready to claw out his throat, your anger blurred your vision too much to see the handful of long-needled syringes aimed at your chest. You gasped as the needles pierced through your suit and snapped off from their shafts. They stuck out of your chest like darts in a bar.
Dr. Havran took your pause of shock to break away. He almost made it to the door when Nightwing’s grappling rope wrapped around his ankles. Nightwing was on him in a second, handcuffing his wrists tightly. He broke a glass pill filled with sleeping smoke under his nose ensuring that he would asleep long enough to transport him to Arkham.
“Havran secured, Batman. Send in the blues and we’ll be home soon.” He rounded the corner with that smile he always wore when a crisis was averted. It fell away when he saw the needles. “No, no, no, no. Hang on.” He moved to kneel by you, but you waved him off.
“Isi. Get to Isi.” One or more must have pierced deep enough to your lungs because each breath felt like you were being stabbed over and over again. “Please. Isi.” You pleaded with your eyes, not trusting your voice not to betray the pain you were in.
He nodded. With one more glance to the blood seeping over your suit, he ran out of the building. Over the coms, you heard him tell Batman he was on his way. Faintly you heard Batman promising to meet him halfway to take the antidote to Isi. Then Nightwing could come back to you.
The windows reflected with flashing blue. The icy hot in your chest seeped further into your torso.
Isi was going to be okay. She was going to get the antidote. Isi was going to live.
Dick’s voice called you out of the sleep threatening to overtake you.
“I’m coming, Y/N. I can save you. We can fix this. You’re going to be okay. You can do this.”
The reader won’t tell Sheamus what’s bothering her.
Pairing: Sheamus x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: angst, talk of non-smut
Word Count: I have no idea, wrote this on the fly
Note: Wrote something I needed to hear. Thought maybe a few of you out there could benefit from it too. Reactions and feedback much appreciated.
Through the dark in the room, you could hear every puff of your breath, every rustle of the trees outside your window, and every squeak of the bed as you tried to find a comfortable position.
Never enough. Always in the way. I can’t give him what he wants.
The pillow beneath your face was wet where it had once been cool. There wasn’t even a point to wipe away a single tear. Not that you had the energy anyway.
When the door creaked open, you shut your eyes feigning sleep. The sound of stride let you know it wasn’t Alexa, who had agreed to be your roommate.
“Y/N? Are ya asleep, lass?” He waited for your reply. If you hadn’t forgotten to breathe in your attempt to remain absolutely still, maybe he would have just gone to bed. “Y/N,” he sighed. The bed dipped beside you and his large warm hand rubbed over your back where it was uncovered by the sheets. He lightly tugged on your shoulder until you rolled over to look at him. The light he turned on blinded you for a second, then all you could see was him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
How could you?
Everything you could say about how inadequate you felt for him, or how your blood froze and burned when he touched you, or the all the blinding fear about your future, it would only make him blame himself. For every time he wasn’t there to comfort you. To make you smile. To hold you. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. But your fears would only solidify his blame.
“I’m just tired.”
Sheamus shook his head. “That may be true, but that is not everything.” He cupped your face and ran his thumb up and across your cheekbone. “You can tell me anything.”
You bit your lip. It was all there. At the tip of your tongue. Waiting. Maybe if you drew blood it would wash away what he deserved to hear.
“Y/N?”
“I can’t,” you finally blurted. “I can’t hurt you.” You tried to roll back over, but Sheamus’s gentle grip on your shoulder made it so you could only turn your head. “Let’s try in the morning.”
“You are always going to say that.” Sheamus looked off into the darkness outside the window. “What is that verse your dad quoted at me the last time we met? ‘Don’t let the sun set on your anger.’ Whether or not if you’re mad at me or you think I’m mad at you, it’s already night. And I’m not going to sleep until I know what is tumbling around in your mind.”
You swallowed the dry taste in your mouth.
“I can’t give you what you deserve.”
His brow furrowed.
“You deserve,” you tried again, “you deserve someone who can take care of your… needs.”
His eyes closed as he realized. “I don’t need anything like that. You told me on our very first date that sex was off the table. Unless I liked you so much that I put a ring on ya,” he chuckled. He sighed when you didn’t even smile. “You laid your boundaries. And I am not going to cross them.”
“But I want to,” you choked out. “In that pause when we are standing so close to one another and I can almost feel your heart beating, I want to. I get so close and my heart feels like it’s soring and crashing all at once. But something always keeps me back. At this point, I don’t know if it’s my faith or my fear. Or both. If I give you that piece of me and something breaks down the line, will I lose you and myself?” The tears were running freely now. Hot and blurring your vision. “There’s like an unshakable weight every time we’re out together. When we smile at each other in our way and everyone shares that look with each other.”
“Then don’t look at them,” Sheamus said. “I stopped looking a long time ago. All I see when we share those looks is you. All I see right now… is you.” He gave your hand a squeeze.
Your chest hurt so tight you almost wished it would burst. When the sob finally ripped from your throat you curled up into his chest. You twisted the fabric of his shirt around your fingers. Breathed deeply to feel his hands on your back better.
“I can’t give all of myself to you.”
“Then don’t. I am perfectly, blissfully over the moon with what I have right now.” He angled your face up towards his. “You. In my arms. Telling me your worries so I can do what I can to show you how much I love you.”
You pulled his face down to kiss you. You didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to tell him how thankful you were that he was listening even though you had no more words. He rocked back and forth with you. His warm hands cupped your face, wiping away the tears that had turned to ice on your flushed skin. Your fingers worked their way under his sleeves, feeling how his shoulders flexed under your touch. You shivered and retracted your touch to stay only over the fabric.
Sheamus leaned back and removed his shirt. “You can feel me, lass. You can leave your clothes on, and if it makes you uncomfortable I can put mine back on.” He pressed his cheek against yours and whispered into your ear, “it’s okay, Y/N.”
“My nails are long. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
When you were finished making out several minutes later, you curled into Sheamus’s chest. His breathing steadied, steadying you. He ran his fingers through your hair, muttering soothing things in Irish. Before long, you were asleep.
The next morning he left you asleep and met Seth in the hotel work-out room.
“Damn, Sheamus.” He nodded at the bright red hash marks on his shoulders peeking out from under his tank top. “How hard did you guys go last night?”
“We didn’t. You know we’re not like that.”
Seth shook his head and continued prepping the weights. “You know, even if you would ask her father for permission next week it’s going to take six months at least before the wedding is done. And it’ll probably be closer to a year.”
“I know. I’m not worried.” Sheamus grunted as he started some bicep curls. “It doesn’t matter if I ask him in a month or in another year.”
Seth waited for him to say more. “And why is that?” he prompted.
Sheamus grinned. “When she’s ready, then I’m ready. Until then, I can wait.”
You’ve finally made it to the journalism team of WWE. It wasn’t the plan, but when you’re signed for now to Smackdown, your past seems like it is going to remain where it is. That is, until Kurt Angle calls you in to fill in for Charley. Then you keep finding new ways to make enemies.
Pairing: None, some Sheamus x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: None, some sassy reader
Word Count: 1290
Note: This series is going to be long if I can maintain it like I would like, forewarning. I had two half ideas, then combined them. I have applied for a creative job at WWE, and I’m hoping I can use this as practice for writing a long-term plan. This series is going to run parallel to what’s actually happening each week, but I am going to stick to what I anticipate. I’m not planning on making a tag list for this, but I can make one if you guys would like to be kept informed. So here it goes, and I hope you enjoy every twist and turn.
May 7 – Smackdown Live, Baltimore
You waited anxiously just outside of Gorilla for the match to be over. Though you giggled when Big E was throwing pancakes at Sheamus, your nerves about your first interview as part of the team filled your mind. Cesaro won the pin and you took several deep breaths trying to calm yourself. The Bar took the commercial break to speak with Mr. McMahon. Your cameraman received some news which he passed along to you.
“I knew you c’uld do it.” Sheamus slapped Cesaro across the back in a congratulatory pat, nearly sending his partner stumbling into you as they entered the hallway.
“Excuse me, Cesaro and Sheamus?” You rolled your shoulders; your voice sounded so quiet. Get it together, Y/N! Thankfully, they still noticed you. “Congratulations on your win this evening, Cesaro.”
“Thank you, miss…” Cesaro dropped off, confused.
“Y/N. Um. Next week it has been revealed that The Bar will face New Day for a spot in the Money in the Bank match, but only one teammate of the winning team gets to go. What are your first thoughts about this development?”
They shared a look, then broke into laughter. Sheamus spoke up first. “The only thoughts we have are about which one of us is going to be in the ladder match.” He chuckled and nudged Cesaro. “Today was not Xavier Wood’s day. And it won’t be next week either, or for his other pancake flipping friends.”
“Y/N,” Cesaro said, “whether it’s me or Sheamus climbing that ladder at Money in the Bank, you can be assured that we will level the playing field next week. Because we don’t just set the Bar…”
“We are the bar!” they said in unison.
You took a step back so they could walk past. Sheamus turned at the last second. “Welcome to WWE, Y/N.”
“Thank you,” you squeaked. You leaned back against the wall as your cameraman sat his gear on a crate. It was only your first day on the main roster, but if you didn’t work the nerves out of your system soon, then it might be one of your last.
May 14 – Monday Night Raw, London
Kurt Angle was typing away on his phone when you entered his hall space. “Ah, Miss Y/L/N, thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
“No problem.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. So much for trying to avoid being on Raw. “How can I help?”
“Charley is out sick, and since you came all this way for Smackdown tomorrow, Paige suggested that you could fill in. You up for it?”
You nodded. “Yes, sir. Where do I need to go?”
Angle motioned to one side where a man waved at you. “Our stage manager will make sure you’re mic-ed and will get you where you need to be. And thank you for stepping up.” You didn’t have time to respond as the stage manager guided you down the hall. At least tonight you weren’t likely to run into the impending problem you were doing your best to avoid.
A few minutes later you were waiting to speak to Elias before his match. Finally, you heard his strumming and saw him turn the corner.
“Elias?” You paused as Elias stopped strumming. “With your loss to Bobby Roode last week, what is your plan to claim a place at the Money in the Bank?” You held out your mic.
Elias looked at the mic. Then at you. Then he looked further down the hall and continued to strum, walking away. You sighed and grit your teeth. It was beginning to feel like one of those nights.
It continued to be one of those nights with your interview with Alexa later on. She and Mickie James walked up laughing at something Alexa said. You started your question a few times, but Alexa kept ignoring you to say things to Mickie about Nia Jax.
“And then she has the audacity to make that little speech about standing up for yourself like she didn’t just beat me down after already having stolen my title.”
“Excuse me, Ms. Bliss,” you said as loudly as you dared, “may I ask you a few questions about your next steps after all the losses piling up behind you.” That wasn’t the original question, but you were getting testy.
“My losses?” Alexa sucked her teeth. “They are where they are supposed to be: behind me. I am not going to let that bully Nia keep me down. I don’t care if I have to fight all the women in the division for the Money in the Bank briefcase, I will get my title back, and then nobody is going to touch it again.” She looked back at Mickie, who sagely nodded in agreement. Alexa sniffled and cupped her hands over her chest. “You’re new here, so you can’t possibly understand the cruelty I have survived at the hands of Nia Jax. Well, I say no more. Sooner rather than later, Nia is going to pay for everything she has done to me.”
Although you were keeping your face stoic in an attempt to remain neutral, a disbelieving snort escaped.
Alexa gasped. “What? Go on. I can handle it. Is it a short joke to add to my trauma?”
This chick.
“I’m sure I could come up with some if you’d like, but I don’t want to add to your ‘woe is me’ complex. Actually, if you can’t convince Kurt Angle to let you into the Money in the Bank match, what would you like to say to Nia as she continues to hold the Raw Women’s Championship?”
Both Alexa and Mickie’s jaws dropped. Alexa stamped her foot. She tried to say something, but it came out as sputtering. She took a deep breath and turned back to Mickie.
“See, everyone is against me.” Glancing at you, she squinted her eyes. “When I beat Nia and win back my championship, everybody will show some respect for the only goddess of WWE.” They marched off, leaving you with a mixture of fearful and relieved emotions.
May 15 – Smackdown Live, London
You cut your shout of delight short as Sheamus pinned Big E. He quickly met Cesaro outside the ring and they left up the ramp cheering and patting each other on the back. You’d only been here two weeks and you were already starting to pick favorites.
“Y/N, good to see you,” Cesaro said, nearly bumping into you for the second week in a row.
“Good to see you guys too. So, time for the inevitable question. Which-“
“Which one of us is going to be in the ladder match?” Sheamus finished your question and looked at Cesaro. “If I have anything to say about it, it’s going to be this man right here.” He slapped Cesaro across the chest, who reeled back, flattered.
“Ho, no, no.” Cesaro bumped shoulders with Sheamus. “We know who can do it because he’s done it before. Sheamus will win the contract.”
All you could do was stand and smile while they went back and forth with several “no, you!” Sheamus saw your bemused expression and stopped the cycle.
“Okay, so we haven’t really talked ‘bout it. We wanted to focus on one match at ta time, and now that we have one, we will consider all options. We’ll let you know by the end of the night.”
You tilted your head in confusion. “You mean you’ll let Paige know by the end of the night.”
“Right. Paige.”
“Either way, congratulations, and I can’t wait to hear what you guys decide. Thank you for your time.” You left with a smile.
Smackdown was already beginning to feel like home.
Note: Thank you, anon, for being patient for this fic! I hope you all enjoy it, and if you do I would love if you could take a second to reblog or leave a comment. My requests are still open, and so are all of my tag lists for Marvel, DC, WWE, Supernatural, and a few odds and ends that you can find on my masterlist. Now, happy smutty reading!
A jolt shot through you even before you fully felt the slap on your ass. You heard Erik chuckle as he continued on his way past you. The gleam in his eye as he watched you over his shoulder told you it was going to be a long day.
It was.
In theory, the plug nestled inside you was supposed to be fun. Erik had his hands all over you at all times of the day, riling you up anyways, so what was one more level? What you didn’t take into account, was how much more frequent he was going to stand behind you, or next to you with his hand resting on your lower back, or the number of ‘accidental’ bumps. Even when he wasn’t around, you could feel it with every slight movement. Sitting, standing, leaning, nothing helped. The schematics of the building the team was going to break into needed analyzing. Yet, all you could think about was the pleasure that had turned to annoyance.
When Erik wasn’t paying attention to you, you slipped away. Back at your desk a short time later, you focused on the map and found several routes in record time. You got more work done in an hour than you had all day. And yet…
…Erik was going to be pissed.
You straightened slightly as he slid up behind you, observing your notes. Erik dipped his fingers under the back of your waistband, searching for something he wasn’t going to find.
“I took it out,” you whispered.
He wrapped his arm around your front and pulled you tight to him. “You what?” he growled in your ear.
“It was distracting. We are two weeks from one of the biggest takes since forming the team. It’s one thing for you to feel me up and play; it’s quite another if I can’t sit or stand at my desk and focus one hundred percent on the job at hand. You were either going to get a good escape route, or a good girl. Did you want me to choose differently?” Your heart thundered in your ears as he thought it over.
“No,” he finally replied. The grip on your waist loosened as you let out the breath you had been holding. “Still, you should have talked to me. We make all decisions together, work and play; everything.” Erik gave you a little space and pointed at the schematic. “Now what are you thinking about how to get through this hallway?”
Everybody else had gone. The lights were still on, but only half. The brightest spot in the room came from the light on your desk. It was empty like you made sure of every night. Every table and board was blank, and the safe under Erik’s office floorboards was full.
The other half of the lights went out, leaving your desk lamp the job of illuminating the room. The small thing couldn’t do the job. The edges of its light faded out a few feet from you.
“I have something for you.”
You twisted in the dark, looking for Erik. For a second you thought you could make out his figure. Then a warm body pressed up against your back.
“Always so dramatic,” you giggled.
He kissed the curve of your neck. “You seem to like it.” He nosed up the shell of your ear as you hummed in agreement. His movements were smooth. Fingertips dancing across the skin he found like silk. With your ease distracting you, Erik easily turned you until your hands were splayed across your desk and your hips were trapped between the edge and him. His hardness was pressed into your back.
You kept your eyes straight ahead until he placed something on the surface next to your hand. The glass glimmered and cast one oblong shadow. You gasped as Erik ripped down your pants and underwear. The air chilled your skin as he helped you step out of your clothes then spread your legs. You had been wet since the morning, but his voice and touch inspired the new waves of arousal that glistened for him to see. With both hands, he spread your cheeks. You shuddered as he took some of your wetness and thumbed it over your sensitive hole. He worked you open with one hand, while the other spread your slick up to your clit. As an orgasm quickly rolled closer, he began to insert the glass plug. He used your arousal to ease its entrance. You shuddered and quaked as it slid into place and your vision blurred.
“That’s one.” Erik turned you around and crashed his lips against yours. He yanked on your hair, angling your head back where he could have more room to suck on your pulse point. You dug your nails into any part of him you could reach. He broke your grip only long enough to fling away his shirt. The scars on his skin rippled under your touch. You gave a short cry as the first smack caught you by surprise.
“Am I counting tonight?” You leaned into his chest shuddering as he flattened his hand on your ass again.
“No. I’m counting, and only how many times you cum. How many hours did you wear that first plug?”
You licked your lips in thought. “Five, maybe. Give or take a few minutes.”
Erik nodded and nipped at your bottom lip. “Let’s shoot to double that.”
You groaned and let him lift you up onto the desk. He slotted himself between your legs, kissing between your breasts. You whimpered as the plug shifted around; you fully realized it was bigger than the one you were wearing that morning. He kissed down your stomach and pushed you back until you were laying down. He splayed one hand over your stomach and plunged one finger on the other into your heat. Erik was ruthless. He teased just around your most responsive places even though you gave him every sound and breathless cry of his name. Three fingers thrust into you, curling and dragging out your pleasure as Erik watched you greedily. You gripped at his bicep as you arched under his ministrations. He stilled his movements to give you a few seconds to recover.
“Two.”
He pulled you off the table to lay your front across it in the same position as before. You yelped as he gave your ass another swat. It was close enough to brush over the plug, sending you whimpering. His belt jingled, and you arched back into him. Erik thrust his cock through your leaking arousal, palming roughly at the globes of your ass. You mewled for him to fuck you. The words falling from your lips were replaced by moaning while Erik began to ease his length into a little at a time. Just as you would catch your breath, he would spank you again. It stole your breath away and your coherent thoughts.
The pace he sent had you seeing stars. The table creaked and squeaked as it scraped across the floor. Erik wove his fingers in your hair and tugged you back. The angle hit new places for the evening, ones he always seemed to find and use to drive you crazy.
“You’re doing so good, baby.”
Erik grunted and reached around to play with your nipples. You clawed at your desk trying to find anything to hold onto as everything he was doing overwhelmed you. Each snap of his hips sent a double jolt through you as the force further used the plug to his advantage. He let go of your hair so you could brace yourself on the table. You knew there would be bruises in the morning the second he gripped your waist. His grunts. Your sighs. Both mingled as your next orgasm came closer. It was getting harder to breathe as you readied for the scream. But it never came.
“Two and a half.”
“Erik,” you chided as he stopped moving, keeping himself sheathed inside you. His length was throbbing. With the way his chest was heaving against your back, you knew it was difficult for him to hold back. You were about to say more when he began to tap the top of the plug. He hooked his fingers under the grip and toyed with just barely moving it in and out. He gasped and braced himself on the table as your walls tightened around him. He straightened himself up and spanked one of your cheeks.
“We can hang out at two and a half for a good long while unless you behave.” He chuckled as you shivered. “Or you can ask nicely.”
You swallowed. “Please, Erik. Let me cum.” You gave a shallow thrust back. He stepped forward, pinning your hips between him and the table. “I’m yours. You make me cum so hard. Please! I’ve only cum twice out of the ten you want me to. Plea-“
He stepped back and pushed your hips forward until he was barely inside you. You held your breath. Erik tugged at the plug until it was mostly free. Your legs quaked. He thrust forward and pushed the plug back in at the same time. You screamed out his name. Vaguely you could hear him chanting your name as he fucked you through your third orgasm before his movements lost control. He bit down on your shoulder blade as he finished, muffling his growl.
Careful of your sensitivity, he eased back. His release slid down your leg. He gave the plug a slight tap, then gently tugged it free. It slipped into one of his pockets.
“Come here,” he hummed, turning you around. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed you. “I’ve got one more I’d like you to try,” he muttered against your lips.
You took a deep breath and licked your lips. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” Erik helped you gather your clothes. “It’s in the car. And once it’s in, I’m going to turn it on.” He smiled as you giggled. “And,” he gripped your arm to trap you in his arm, “you are not going to cum until we get home. Agreed?”
Our Deepest Desires 