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ellswritings · 1 month ago

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In My Corner

Part 1, (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4)

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: Angst, Shield betrayal, Dean leaving WWE, Vince being manipulative (very brief), that’s it for now :).

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

It didn’t make sense.

It has been over a decade since Y/S/N and CM Punk have been partners. The two of them took WWE by storm. Not only as singles competitors, but as a mixed tag team as well. They fought many battles side by side and they fit quite well together despite the eight year age difference.

They had each other's backs constantly, in kayfabe and outside of it. Phil and Y/N’s characters were close and so were they. Due to the close nature of their stories, they spent thousands and thousands of hours together. They were what peanut butter is to jelly, what butter is to popcorn, they just meshed seamlessly.

Until Phil left the company.

She never blamed him for the decision. If she had the same level of courage he did at the time, she probably would’ve left too. But she had fought tooth and nail to get to the top. She had battled her way through the indies after her time in OVW and when she finally got to try out, it had finally felt like every sacrifice she made was worth it.

So when things got bad between management and Phil, she didn’t know what to do. Y/N knew Phil was right. Everyone knew. But no one was brave enough to say anything except him. She couldn’t give up everything she had built. She loved wrestling and the thought of never being able to do it again terrified her.

So despite her better judgment, she kept quiet. She remained on the main roster while Phil left the company. It broke her heart watching him walk out of the ring for the last time. Especially since he cut all contact with everyone due to legal reasons. The only issue is when he could contact everyone again, he never reached out to her.

Y/N understood why. She left him high and dry. But they were best friends. She tried to apologize multiple times but never heard back. She can’t lie, it did make her a bit bitter. But she kept her focus on her career and the new friends she had made.

The fans missed her mixed tag matches. They loved her as a singles competitor and they still do, but they missed when she had a partner to fight along with. And that’s when Vince had the bright idea to place her with the most popular faction in the company.

The Shield.

Joe, Colby, and Jonathan welcomed Y/N with open arms. She brought a certain balance to their chaotic group while simultaneously adding to it at the same time. They grew close in a very short amount of time, the three of them being there for her in the absence of Phil. She vented her frustrations to them, her anger at Phil for leaving and simply never reaching out again. Like their friendship meant nothing.

They were all angry for her. None of them could understand how Brooks could just never speak to her again. Y/N had to be one of the best if not the best person in the locker room, inside and out. It didn’t make sense how he could walk away and never try to hear her side of things.

So the three men became fiercely protective of her, and she them. They worked as a unit, cohesive in every way. In the beginning, Y/N was worried being a part of a team like this would remind her of Phil, but The Shield was vastly different. The aspect of teamwork was the same, of course, but the way they operated was different from how she and Phil did. Neither of them being worse or better than the other, just different. She never forgot how much she missed the Second City Saint, but being with her boys distracted her enough that missing him wasn’t as painful anymore.

The Shield stood on business. They were as close on screen as they were backstage. Jokes ran through the locker room and through the fans that Y/N was the unofficial “leader” of the faction despite her late entry into the group. It made them laugh because they never really thought or cared enough to determine who would be in charge. She does tend to cut more promos than they guys but that’s simply because she has the gift of gab. She could keep an audience captivated with her words for hours. Perhaps that’s where the misconception came in. But they all did their part. She just happened to talk more than them on some days.

Y/N loved standing with them at ringside during their matches and they loved standing with her. They easily became four of the most adored people in WWE. Y/N remembers a particular show where they were in Houston Texas and more than half the stadium was sporting some form of their merchandise.

They were on fire.

So it came as a surprise when the writers and Vince pitched the idea to break up the group through Colby’s character Seth Rollins. They were all rather heartbroken over the news, but the angle they were playing at was that they wanted to push all four of them more as singles competitors because of how popular they became over such a short time period. Y/N was already on track to go after the Divas championship and it wouldn’t be hard to push the guys to win their own titles too.

However, the way they went about splitting up the group had to sting worst of all. Seth had to defect from the group to join the Authority by hitting Roman in the back with a steel chair and beating Dean down as well. Y/S/N wouldn’t be out in the ring for the beginning of the segment, only running out when she sees what’s happening. Once Dean and Roman are on the floor, she would slide in the ring and shield them with herself as a lasting symbol of what The Shield stood for.

Once Seth sees her, he’s supposed to look conflicted, still having a soft spot for the woman they adopted into the group after being abandoned by her old partner. It came a lot easier for Colby than he thought. To appear distraught and at war with himself. He knew that the breaking up of this group would mean they wouldn’t get to spend as much time together, and when they did it would most likely be through feuds. He had grown attached to Y/N and the guys. It was scary thinking of going on without them, but they all agreed this would be the best for all of their careers.

Still didn’t make losing their built-in family hurt any less.

For storyline purposes, Y/S/N sided with Roman and Dean. She protected them when the Authority or Seth came after them. She was very vocal about her feelings for Seth Rollins after the betrayal which led to many verbal battles in the ring. But backstage, the four of them were all still very close. Things did take a turn for the worse though when Vince started inserting himself in the writing. Whenever Y/N and Colby would be out there, he would always put something a little extra personal in the script to make the words sting even more. Neither of them were sure how Vince even knew about some of the things he would write in, but they always performed to the best of their ability.

There was one night that hit a little harder than Y/N had expected. She didn’t know about the last minute change, the excuse being they wanted to see her “genuine reaction.” Colby had no idea she hadn’t been told, but even then he was still hesitant to say what was written, but Vince assured him Y/N was fine with it.

How stupid he was to fall for that.

The way her face fell when the words left his mouth still haunts him. He should have known better. As soon as he read it, he should have went to Y/N. He should have asked her, not just taken Vince’s word.

The arena was rumbling — the kind of vibration you felt in your chest, not just your ears. Seth Rollins was already in the ring, microphone in hand, pacing slow, that familiar smug grin pulling at his mouth as the crowd hurled boos and scattered cheers his way.

Then Y/N’s music hit.

The place exploded.

She strode out onto the stage with a smirk, rolling her shoulders loose, the heavy leather jacket slung over her frame. She walked with that same cool confidence she always carried to the ring — chin high, shoulders square, eyes locked on Seth.

In the ring, Seth watched her like a lion waiting to pounce. As soon as Y/N slid under the ropes, he gave her an exaggerated slow clap.

“Ah, there she is,” Seth drawled, leaning casually against the ropes. “The queen herself.” His eyes flicked up and down, unapologetically lingering. “Looking sharp tonight, Y/S/N. Guess you do clean up nice.”

Y/N smirked, rolling her shoulders back as she slid into the ring. “Careful, Rollins. Keep talking sweet and people are gonna think you’re soft.”

He laughed, pushing off the ropes to circle her. “Oh, trust me — no one’s ever called me soft.”

Their eyes locked, a familiar heat sparking between them — the kind that wasn’t quite hate but was too sharp to be called friendship.

“Yeah, well, most people wouldn’t call turning on your family ‘strong,’” she fires back angrily. “So you’re right, maybe soft isn’t the right word to describe someone like you.” She takes a step forward, getting in his face. “I think coward is a lot more fitting.”

Ooooh! the crowd roared.

Seth’s grin twitched wider. He turned his back to her, pacing lazily across the ring. “Funny,” he said, voice light, “you talk like you’re some loyal warhorse. But you’ve always had a bad habit of jumping ship, haven’t you?”

Her smirk tightened. Careful, she thought.

Seth turned to face her fully now, eyes glinting under the lights. “I mean, sure — you’ve got Roman, you’ve got Dean… the great Shield family reunion. But let’s not pretend you were always riding with the best.”

Y/N’s grip on the mic shifted. There was a flicker of something in her chest — a tiny warning bell.

Seth tilted his head as if gauging her reaction. “Y’know, you’ve always been good at running that mouth of yours.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a near purr. “It’s almost impressive, really. But it’s nothing new, is it?”

Y/N’s brow ticked, the playful glint in her eyes flickering just slightly.

Seth’s smirk deepened. “You’ve always been good at talking big, standing tall. Just like your old pal…”

He let the name hang, savoring the moment.

“C… M… Punk.”

A ripple rolled through the arena — the crowd caught between shock and thrill. They don’t mention Punk often, or at all really. No one talked about him in the ring, and his name was only brought up backstage when they knew Vince or one of his lackeys wouldn’t hear. Y/N’s heart skipped, her smile tightening as she tried to mask the jolt running through her.

Seth circled closer, his voice sharpening, playful edge twisting into something colder. “You remember him, right? The guy who carried you through your rookie days? Who gave you a shot when no one else would?” He chuckled under his breath. “Guess some things never change — you’re still riding coattails. Only difference is, Punk knew when to bail.”

For a split second, everything inside Y/N stalled.

That wasn’t in the script.

Her heart hammered once — twice — a hard thud against her ribs.

She masked it fast, forcing a tilt of her head, a cool smile. “Careful, Seth,” she said softly, even though her fingers had gone cold around the mic.

But Seth had already stepped in. Already smelled the blood. “You remember him, don’t you?” he murmured, almost tenderly. “The man you stood beside. The one you built your name with. Until things got messy. Until walking away was easier.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the mic.

“And when it all fell apart — when he fell apart — you didn’t stand by him, Y/S/N. You didn’t fight for him. You watched him walk out that door, and you stayed.”

The audience noise was dipping, unsure, waiting.

Y/N’s throat worked, but she held the mic steady. Her mind raced — what the hell?

But Seth leaned in now, voice dropping, knife twisting. “He carried you on his back for years… and you repaid him by surviving without him. Guess that’s what you do best — survive anyone who outgrows you.” An evil chuckle escaped his lips, not realizing Y/N isn’t pretending. “Tell me… did it ever dawn on you that Punk never left WWE… he left you.”

Colby could tell that Y/N’s reaction wasn’t acting. He watched as tears began to border at her waterline. He had just rubbed salt in a wound that he, Joe, and Jonathan spent thousands of hours trying to help her heal. They had at least five more minutes of back and forth before she had to snap and attack him, but they never made it that far.

Y/N’s jaw ticked and suddenly the tears were replaced with anger. Instead of responding and continuing the promo, she marched out of the ring without so much as a glance back at him.

He knew at that point she had no idea that was added to the script. Joe and Jonathan had been watching backstage, attempting to catch Y/N before she stormed off to the locker room. She stormed through gorilla into the backstage area. Joe tried to grab her, “Y/N–”

“Don’t,” she pulls her body away from him and Jonathan before trudging over to the women’s locker room, slamming the door behind her.

From that moment on, everything felt a lot more personal. She had heard Colby out who apologized profusely for what had happened but it didn’t change the fact that Y/N was now aware of how deep Vince was willing to cut her to get a good pop.

Everything played out the way they wanted it to. Y/S/N won the Divas championship, Seth won the money in the bank and cashed in at Wrestlemania which cost Roman his title opportunity, Roman eventually got the title, and so did Dean. They were all pushed very hard despite being broken up as a group.

Over the years, storylines kept Joe and Y/N close with one another. She still went out of her way to be around Jonathan and Colby, but it was hard when they couldn’t interact as much. It also became much more difficult to connect with Colby on the level they used to after Vince started using his dialogue as a way to personally go after Y/N.

They both hated the circumstances but there was nothing either of them could do. So all Y/N did was grow tougher skin. It’s all part of the show. However, it did affect their relationship slightly. She still loved the man, but the newly formed tension always seemed to linger over them.

As time went on, their small group fractured even more when Jonathan decided to leave WWE. It was an absolute heartbreaking loss for Joe, Y/N, and Colby, but they understood why he needed to go. Over the past couple of years, the three of them had a lot more opportunities offered to them than Jonathan and he deserves more than what he was getting.

They stayed connected, but seeing each other became rare. Then when the writers proposed the Bloodline storyline with Roman and his family, Y/N knew how big that was going to be. She could see Joe leading a whole faction made up of just his family.

Until it wasn’t just his family.

Roman and Y/S/N had stayed close, done mixed tag matches, supported each other in the squared circle always. So it shouldn’t have surprised Y/N as much as it did when Joe came up to her and said he convinced Vince and the writers to include her in the Bloodline.

She didn’t understand why he wanted her, but the only thing he said was that he needed his best friend with him. That he didn’t want to lead a faction without her in it. That she was his family just as much as the rest of them.

So how could she say no?

For years Roman led the Bloodline as the Original Tribal Chief and Y/S/N stayed by his side. She fought her battles and their battles with all her heart and soul and the group ran the WWE roster. Some days Y/N would miss working closely with Colby, but she knew he didn’t need her. Not as much as Joe did.

She was almost the voice of reason for the Bloodline. The only one who could get Solo to grin without having to coax him to do it. The only person to keep Jey level headed, and the only one to continuously make jokes with Jimmy without getting on anyone’s nerves. And the most important feat of all is that she could get Roman to listen to her.

Paul Heyman was extremely grateful to have her fight the battles he wasn’t able to. When he couldn’t get the boys under control, Y/N could. Many have stepped up to their little family, and many have fallen. The only person who Y/S/N didn’t fight when they approached the Bloodline was Sami Zayn. He was a perfect fit. He brought a certain lightheartedness they all needed.

For years they helped Roman stay on top. Through the Covid era and multiple hard times, they stuck together. Unfortunately, as both Joe and Y/N have learned, nothing good seems to last. It wasn’t a surprise when it was suggested the Bloodline be broken up. Especially when Cody Rhodes came back into the picture. They had been together for a long time so it’s true the storyline started to get relatively stale.

One by one the members of the original Bloodline defected. Some came back for brief stents before taking off again. Every one of them betrayed Roman. It was, of course, to add drama to Kayfabe, but it still hurt to watch them all leave. The only two people who stuck by Roman’s side were Y/S/N and Paul Heyman.

Y/S/N made it clear from the beginning she never trusted Paul, but she did what Roman deemed as necessary. Joe and Y/N spent a lot of time together, their friendship becoming the strongest it’s ever been. Both of them held the WWE undisputed championships for their respective divisions, ruling the company with an iron fist even if they didn’t have a complete family to back them up.

However, when Survivor Series 2023 came around, Y/N was placed on Bianca Belair’s team, a close friend in and out of the ring, to fight against Damage CTRL. The two teams had been practicing their bumps for weeks, Joe even helping Y/N with some of her more difficult stunts that could seriously injure someone if not delivered correctly. She’s one of the few people Paul Levesque trusts to do the more risky moves because he knows how careful she is and how much time she’ll put in to making sure everything goes smoothly.

Bianca’s team ended up winning the battle, putting Damage CTRL in their place. The ladies were kind enough to allow Y/N to get the pin, winning the match. It was one of the best moments of her career. Hearing the pop from the audience as the five of them climb up the cage, celebrating at the top with wide smiles on their faces.

Running to the back, the first people to greet her in celebration were Joe and Colby. The latter of the two competed with Cody’s team a bit later, but he couldn’t resist watching his close friend opening the show.

“You killed it out there,” Joe says, squeezing her tightly. “I told you you’d land that corkscrew moonsault off the cage.”

“You sure you don’t have a background in Lucha?” Colby says with a teasing eyebrows as he hugs her.

“I feel like my face is buzzing,” Y/N replies, face buried in his chest. “I could probably lift a car right now.”

“Let’s not do that,” Joe pats her back, him and Colby laughing quietly.

The night went on without much issues. Y/N and Joe remained backstage. She was surprised he even came considering he wasn’t fighting tonight, but she wasn’t going to complain about having his support. When the main event came around, Y/N made her support of Cody and Colby’s team known. Especially since Joshua was on it. Joe made conversation with some other people backstage as the match continued.

Y/N smiles as Randy Orton makes his way to Gorilla, getting ready to make his big entrance. The two of them share a brief hug and quiet conversation before his music hit and he went out to join the rest of his team. Of course, Cody’s team beats the Judgement Day and Drew McIntyre, but in the midst of the celebration, a familiar static flooded the speakers in the arena.

Y/N’s blood ran cold. She had heard rumors he may come back, but she never thought it would actually happen. The woman turns on her heel and comes face to face with a man she hasn’t seen in over a decade. His familiar green eyes meet hers. It’s brief, but a whole parade of emotions crosses his face. Hurt, betrayal, remembrance, sadness, love. Y/N’s sure her expression mimics his. It was only a mere few seconds before he walked out to make his triumphant return, but in those few seconds it feels like Y/N’s entire world stopped.

Phil Brooks is back.

CM Punk has defied all odds. Hell froze over. He made it clear he would never come back. But here he is in the flesh, turning Y/N’s entire life upside down.

“Y/N…” Joe’s soft voice calls out, his hand grabbing her shoulder softly. He didn’t see everything that happened, only that she was frozen.

She’s torn out of her trance as she looks back up at her best friend, “He’s here,” her voice comes out in a whisper. “I didn’t– I didn’t think…”

“I know,” he says softly, pulling her into him.

“Did you know?” Y/N asks quietly, allowing him to hold her.

“I heard some rumors, but I didn’t think anything of it,” he admits. “If I’d have known, you’re the first person I would have told.”

“He looked right at me,” she says quietly, looking down at the floor. “Joe, I– I haven’t even spoken to him since he left.”

“And you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he tells her, lifting her chin up with his finger. “You don’t have to talk to him. You don’t owe him anything. You tried to reach out, remember? He ignored you. Him being back doesn’t change anything.”

“But that’s not true,” Y/N tells him, crossing her arms over her chest. That’s when the sound of everyone from the final fight comes barreling through the curtain to join everyone else backstage. Joe pulls them aside so they’re not in anyone’s way. “This changes everything. Especially if he starts bringing up the past.”

“And if he does, I’ll be right behind you,” he reassures her.

That’s when Colby comes charging towards them, an irritated look on his face. He looks like he’s about to tear into someone, but that’s when he notices the panic on Y/N’s face, and the angry rant he was about to go on disappears from his mind. A small exhale leaves his lips as he grabs Y/N’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Y/N nods, but her eyes travel over to Phil who’s standing next to Randy and Paul Levesque as everyone begins to welcome him back. “Just a bit surprised is all,” she admits.

“Surprised is one word for it…” Colby grumbles before glancing up at Joe, “Did Heyman know?” He asks, eyes still blazing with barely contained fury. “He’s got eyes and ears everywhere and I know damn well he would have told you of all people the second he found out.”

“He just told me there were talks of him wanting to come back,” Joe says, a scowl forming on his face at Colby’s tone. “There was never a confirmation. They must’ve kept it quiet.”

“How convenient,” Colby scoffs. “Guess that little rat of yours isn’t as helpful as we all thought.”

“Guys,” Y/N stops them, her eyes still flickering over to the corner where her old friend stands. “He’s here. He’s signed. Fighting over who knows what isn’t going to change it.”

“I haven’t worked my ass off for the past ten years just for him to waltz back in here and try to take all the glory,” Colby says angrily. “I looked up to that asshole once upon a time. But he’s hurt too many people I care about and shit on this company for far too long. He doesn’t get to just come back and act like he’s helped build this into what it is today.”

Y/N watched the anger rise in Colby like a tide he couldn’t hold back. His fists were clenched, jaw tight. She knew this part of him well — not the performer, but the friend who felt things too deeply and hated when people he loved got hurt.

“I know,” she said gently. “Trust me, I know. But we can’t change that he’s back. All we can control is what we do from here.”

Colby looked at her, then at Joe. He opened his mouth to say something, but the roar of the crowd from the arena still echoed faintly through the concrete halls, and it was enough to make him pause. Instead, he just nodded — not in agreement, but in understanding.

Joe took a slow breath beside them, his voice low. “What do you want to do, Y/N?”

“I want to breathe,” she whispered. “I need to clear my head before I do something stupid. Like confront him while my heart’s still racing.”

Colby moved in front of her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Then we’ll get you out of here. He’s doing his welcome-back rounds with the suits and the veterans. He won’t notice if you slip away.”

Y/N’s head nods along with his words, her mind telling her to walk away, but she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from him. The man she once loved more than anything in the world is standing just a mere few feet away. He’s surrounded by executives and legends and people who used to mean something to them both. He looked a little older, a little worn around the edges, but those eyes — they were the same.

And then suddenly they were looking right at her.

Not for long. Just a second. Barely more than a blink.

But it was enough.

Her chest tightened as a thousand memories flooded her all at once — late nights in hotel rooms, bruised knuckles and whispered promises, the warmth of his hoodie after a long match, and the bitter sound of silence when he was gone.

“Y/N,” Colby said again, his voice lower this time, more urgent.

Joe gently touched her elbow. “Let’s go. You don’t have to do this here.”

She nodded before she even realized she had. Her body moved before her brain caught up, letting them guide her out of the hallway and down a quieter corridor. Away from the crowd. Away from him.

Behind her, she swore she could feel his gaze lingering.

As they walked, they ended up in one of the smaller lounges tucked near production. Colby paced. Joe stood with his arms folded across his chest, jaw tense.

Y/N sat on a crate, elbows on her knees, trying to regulate her breathing.

“He was going to walk over,” Joe said. “I saw it in his eyes.”

Colby let out a humorless laugh. “Not on my watch.”

“He didn’t look angry,” she murmured, eyes distant. “He just… looked. Like he wasn’t sure if I was real.”

“Yeah, well, he does have a habit of leaving people behind and forgetting they exist,” Colby snapped.

Y/N shot him a look.

He sighed. “Sorry. That was too far.”

Joe finally spoke again. “You want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. If I open that box, I don’t know what’ll come out.”

Colby crouched in front of her, resting his arms on his knees. “We’ve got you. No matter what happens.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her voice cracked. “I just… I really thought I was done with this part of my life.”

“You were,” Joe said gently. “Until he stepped back in.”

Y/N leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t want him to talk to me.”

“Then he won’t,” Colby said, without hesitation. “We’ll make sure of it.”

There was a pause. Then Y/N let out a shaky breath. “But what if I do? What if… some part of me still wants to hear what he has to say?”

Colby didn’t answer right away. His throat bobbed.

“You don’t have to decide that tonight,” he finally said. “He’s here. He’s not going anywhere. And neither are we.”

Y/N looked at him — really looked at him — and for a second, she forgot about Phil.

That’s when Joe’s phone begins to buzz. Each one right after the other in rapid succession. He sighed and pulled it out of his pocket, reading the screen before glancing at the two of them. “It’s Galina ,” he muttered. “She’s got the kids tonight. I should call her back.”

Y/N gave him a soft smile. “Go. We’ll be okay.”

He hesitated for a second, looking between her and Colby — clearly reluctant to leave, but trusting them. “You sure?”

“Promise,” she said gently.

Joe nodded and stepped out of the lounge, pulling the door closed behind him.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

But it wasn’t comfortable either.

Y/N kept her eyes on the floor for a moment, then finally glanced up at Colby. “You don’t have to hover. I’m not going to go running down the hallway after him or anything.”

Colby’s mouth quirked at the corner, but his voice was soft. “I know. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you?”

His brow furrowed at the question, caught off guard by its sincerity. For a moment he didn’t answer — just looked at her the way he always did when he was deciding whether to lie or not.

He didn’t.

“Because when I saw your face back there… it scared the shit out of me.”

Y/N blinked.

“You looked like you saw a ghost. Or like you’d been hit by a truck and were trying to pretend you were fine. And I just—” He rubbed a hand across his jaw, suddenly restless. “I’ve seen you hurt before. In matches, on the road, after bad bookings. I’ve seen you furious. I’ve seen you drunk off your ass in the middle of nowhere crying about a botched promo. But I’ve never seen you like that.”

Y/N’s chest tightened again.

She looked down, twisting the rings on her fingers. “I didn’t know it was going to affect me like that.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Me neither.”

She glanced up again, and this time his eyes didn’t move.

They held hers.

And for a moment — just one — the weight of everything else melted away. The buzz of the arena. The ghost of a man standing fifty feet down the hallway. Even the sound of Joe’s voice echoing outside the door disappeared.

It was just them.

Y/N felt the heat first. In her cheeks, in her throat. That flicker of something she hadn’t dared name before. Not with Colby. Not after everything else.

But it was there.

Undeniable.

She broke the silence first, her voice quieter than before. “Colby…”

He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t back away either. “I’m not going to push you,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I just need you to know… I’ve got you. No matter what happens with him. No matter how complicated it gets. You’re not alone.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

She could feel herself teetering on the edge of something.

Colby’s hand drifted toward hers — not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

And she wanted to reach out. Wanted to close the gap.

But not tonight.

Not with Phil still echoing in her chest like a heartbeat she thought she’d buried.

So she looked at him — really looked at him — and whispered, “Thank you.”

Colby nodded, the air thick between them.

“I meant it,” he said. “We’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.”

And for once, she believed him.

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stray-cat-with-internet-access · 4 months ago

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#I'm fine #bo sinclair #slashers #house of wax 2005 #slashers x reader #ambrose #2000s horror #horror movies #barbie #vincent sinclair #brian van holt #girl problems

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pensthoughts · 2 months ago

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Wait…actually I’m the person who asked about the cowboy! Van x farmer’s daughter! Reader. Maybe Van like…comes up to the farm one day and asks stuff to r. Maybe some smut??? Like a little

Set: 1920s

Paring: Butch Cowboy! Van x Farmers Daughter! Reader.

Fluffy/Angst/a tiny bit of smut.

dust & honey | v.p

a/n: you don't understand i freaked out when i got this request. i seriously live for an au so i got straight to writing this as soon as i got it lol. i really hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! pairing: cowboy!van x farmersdaughter!reader summary: stumbling into a small town to buy honey, a cowboy van ends up finding something much sweeter word count: 5.2k warnings: smut towards the end

the bees were already agitated that morning.

you'd been out by the hives before breakfast, smoke can in one hand, trying to calm them down before the sun got too high. they buzzed in tight, angry circles like they knew something was coming, like the air was holding It's breath. you wiped your brow on the back of your glove and stepped away, leaving the boxes humming behind you.

your father stood in the yard, crouched by the broken wagon wheel, brow furrowed and hat pushed back. "it's cracked clean through," he muttered, giving it a nudge with his boot. "i need you to ride into town and get a spare from harold."

you nodded. "anything else?"

"twine, if they've got any that ain't rotted. and that tonic your ma used to buy from the back shelf—my lungs been actin' up again."

you shifted your weight, brushing dust from your skirt. "ms. matthews asked about honey last week. want me to leave her some of the batch?"

he gave a tired smile. "you always think of everything, don't you?" he straightened with a quiet grunt. "yeah, drop her off a jar. and don't let harold try to short you on the wheel. he still thinks you don't know what you're talkin' about."

you raised an eyebrow. "maybe i'll remind him."

your father laughed once, dry and low. "that's my girl."

you packed light—two jars of honey in your bag, your coin purse, and a bit of twine wrapped around your wrist like a charm—and saddled the horse instead of taking the cart. dust clung to your boots before you even reached the road.

town wasn't far, but the ride felt long with the sun beating down overhead. it wasn't big—just a string of old buildings, a few shops, a blacksmith's shed, and the chapel that lost its bell pull over the winter—but it was the kind of place where everyone noticed when someone new walked in.

you tied your horse in front of the general store and climbed the porch steps, the boards creaking under your weight. misty quigley was already out front, sorting envelopes into neat little piles on the crate beside her.

she looked up when she saw you and grinned. "well look who's alive. i was startin' to think your daddy locked you in the barn."

you rolled your eyes but smiled. misty had been in your sunday school class when you were kids, always a little too eager with the scissors during arts and crafts. now she worked part-time delivering the mail and full-time poking her nose where it didn't belong.

"just pickin' up a few things," you said. "pa's wheel cracked again."

"harold's got a whole stack of 'em in the back," she said. "and don't let him sell you the warped one like he did me. that thing spun sideways down the hill like it was runnin' from soemthing."

you laughed, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

the store smelled like sawdust and dried tobacco. the ceiling fan spun slowly overhead, stirring the heat without doing much to move it. you were halfway to the counter when you saw her.

she was leaning against the wood, one boot crossed over the other, looking like she didn't quite belong but wasn't trying to fit in either. red hair tucked behind her ears, sunburn just visible on her nose, and a wide-brimmed hat pushed up off her brow. her shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and her hands rested loosely in her back pockets. like she was waiting, but not in a hurry.

you slowed your steps without meaning to.

harold stood behind the counter, wiping his hands on a rag. "his daughter just walked in," he said to the woman. "you can ask her yourself."

the woman turned. her eyes landed on you like they'd been there before.

"you the one with the bees?" she asked, voice steady, a little rough like she hadn't talked much that morning. she had an accent, but it wasn't distinctly from around here. almost like she picked up pieces from different places.

you blinked. "that depends. you lookin' to get stung?"

she cracked a smile at that—quick, crooked, and real. "just hopin' for honey. the real kind. not the corn syrup harold's selling with that fake label."

harold muttered something under his breath about ungrateful customers and ducked into the back.

you adjusted your grip on your bag. "we've got clover jars left. the spring batch's lighter, but sweeter."

she stepped forward a little, just enough that the scent of leather and sunlight followed her. "mind if i stop by the farm to buy some?"

your heart stuttered for a second. "you could. but i can leave a jar here if you're just passin' through."

she shook her head. "rather see the place. never been out that way."

something about the way she said it made your skin buzz. she stuck out her hand. "van palmer."'

you took it. her handshake was firm, but not rough. just...confident. like she knew exactly how to hold on, and when to let go. but she didn't. not right away.

"nice to meet you," you said, a little breathless. "i'm—" you hesitate, just for a second, then tell her your name.

she grins. "nice to meet you too."

before you could say anything else, taissa turner walked in through the back with a crate in her arms. she used to come around the farm during the summers, back when her aunt lived up the hill near the orchard. you hadn't seen her much lately, apparently she's saving up to go to school. she gave you a quiet nod as she passed, eyes flicking between you and van with something close to curiosity.

van watched her go, then turned back to you. "seems like you know everyone in town."

you shrugged. "that's what happens when you never leave."

van didn't smile this time. "maybe not such a bad thing."

the store felt smaller with her in it.

you cleared your throat and reached into your bag, setting one of the honey jars on the counter. "in case you change your mind."

she glanced down at it. "guess i'll be seeing you soon."

and then she turned and walked out, spurs tapping the wood like punctuation.

taissa was already setting the crate by the counter when you moved to follow, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"wheel's in the back," she said, standing and wiping her hands on her jeans. "you want the newer ones. harold's been trying to offload the old stock again."

you gave her a grateful look. "thanks. i'll owe you one if it rolls straight."

tai smirked. "i'll put it on your tab."

the two of you walked through the back door and into the storage shed, the heat sticking to your skin like syrup. rows of cluttered shelves lined the walls, and in the corner sat a stack of wagon wheels, some leaning, some wrapped in cloth.

you crouched beside the pile, giving them each a careful once-over. "so," tai said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "you met the newcomer, right?"

you glanced up. "van?"

she raised an eyebrow. "so you caught her name."

you rolled your eyes, choosing a wheel with clean spokes and a smooth rim. "she was asking about honey."

"she ask about anything else?" tai's voice was light, teasing, but curious underneath.

you hesitated. "just where to get some."

taissa grinned. "mhm. well, she's staying around a while. might want to pace yourself."

you didn't reply, just adjusted your grip on the wheel and nodded toward the front. "mind if i settle up?"

"yeah, come on." she opened the door for you, and the two of you stepped back into the store. you counted out the coins while tai scribbled the amount in a worn ledger. "tell your dad he still owes me for last time."

"he says you overcharged him for the twine."

"that's 'cause he picked the good kind." she gave you a lazy salute. "safe ride back."

you pushed through the door, stepping out into the bright afternoon—and nearly walked straight into van.

she was standing by the hitching post, hat tipped back, chewing the corner of her thumbnail like she was thinking real hard about something.

"didn't figure i'd catch you again," she said, squinting at you in the sunlight. "you know if there's anywhere in this town a girl can sleep without ending up in the river?"

you blinked. "you plan on makin' enemies that fast?"

van gave a half-smile, eyes sweeping down to your boots and back up. "only if they ask nicely."

your stomach did something traitorous, and you adjusted the wheel in your arms like it might ground you. "there's a boarding house. run by the matthews, just past the chapel. i'm heading that way now, if you want to follow."

her smile deepened. "guess i'll walk with you, then."

you weren't used to walking through town with anyone but misty or your father. and van wasn't like either of them.

as you made your way down the main road, dust kicking up with every step, she kept pace with you, hands in her pockets, boots slow and steady on the dirt. she asked questions between glances at the buildings—who lived above the bakery, what happened to the old chapel bell, if the mayor was always drunk or just liked to pretend.

you answered where you could. "that's the tailor's window there. the one with the blue curtain. she has a cat names pickles that sleeps in the basket by the display."

"you name all the animals in town?" van asked, grinning.

"only the important ones."

you could feel her watching you more than she was watching the town. it was like walking beside a thundercloud with a crooked grin, quiet but electric. her compliments weren't loud—just little things, soft and careless, but they landed sharp anyway.

"didn't picture you with bees," she said, after a stretch of silence.

you raised an eyebrow. "what did you picture me with?"

she shrugged. "something sweeter."

you opened your mouth, then closed it. you didn't know how to flirt with a girl. you'd never tried. but it didn't feel like something you had to try with van—it just was, and that scared you a little. not because it was bad, but because it was unfamiliar.

you rounded the bend and pointed. "that's the boarding house. big white porch, pink flowers in the boxes."

van looked up at it like she was memorizing it. "looks like the kind of place where you get offered tea you don't want but say yes to anyway."

"it is," you said. "and they'll talk about you the second you leave, so be polite."

"guess i better behave," she said, tipping her hat. "thanks for the escort, sheriff."

you laughed under your breath and nodded towards the owners home, conviently placed next door. "i've gotta drop something off. i'll see you around?"

van hesitated, then smiled. "i sure hope so."

you watched her step up the porch, knock once, then disappear inside.

you turned and headed next door, up the stone path to ms. matthews' garden gate. but when the door opened, it wasn't her.

it was lottie. the town clairvoyant. or the town nutjob, depending on how you put it.

her hair was pinned up and loose at the same time, wild strands catching the breeze. she wore a soft lavender dress and no shoes. there was a faint smear of flour on her cheek.

"hi," she said like she'd been expecting you.

you blinked. "i—uh—i was dropping this off for your mom." you held up the jar of honey.

she tilted her head. "she's at choir. i can take it."

you handed it over, and she held it like something fragile. "the bees were angry this morning," she said suddenly, not quite looking at you. "they get that way when the air's shifting."

you opened your mouth to respond, but she kept going. "you met someone today. a readhead?"

your stomach flipped.

"she's staying nect door," lottie said, turning the jar slowly in her hands. "you should save the sweeter jar for her."

you swallowed. "how did you—?"

lottie smiled, serene and distant. "she's going to your house tomorrow. you might want to start a loaf. just a feeling."

you didn't know what to say to that. the wind rustled through the garden, bees buzzing in the distance like they were laughing to themselves.

"thank you," lottie said, and turned toward the door, as if the conversation had ended.

you stood there a second longer, then stepped down the porch, heart thudding hard in your chest.

she was going to your house tomorrow.

and you didn't know what shocked you more—that lottie said it, or that you wanted it to be true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the knock comes late morning.

you’re barefoot, a little sticky from standing over the stove. there’s flour on your wrist and heat on the back of your neck. your hands smell like honey and smoke.

your dad left before sunrise—took the old truck to a nearby town, said he wouldn’t be back till tomorrow night. you’ve had the house to yourself all morning, windows cracked just enough to let the breeze in, music playing low from the radio on the counter. it’s too hot for much else, so you threw on a white button-down, short-sleeved and clingy with the heat, the fabric thin enough that it goes a little see-through in the right light. the buttons strain slightly when you reach or twist. your skirt’s something light—flowy, hem brushing mid-thigh—cool against your skin as you move.

you wipe your hands on your apron and crack the door open.

it’s van.

hat tilted back again, hair messier than yesterday, like she didn’t bother trying to sleep in the bed she paid for. her cheeks are pink from the sun, or maybe from something else, and she’s got a lopsided smile like she’s already halfway through a joke.

“hope i’m not too early,” she says, glancing past your shoulder like she expects you to say you’re busy.

you lean against the frame, heart thudding once, sharp and low.

“depends. what are you here for?”

van shrugs, casual, but her eyes aren’t. “thought i’d see if you had that sweeter jar.”

you blink. “you remember what i said about gossip in this town?”

“i do. and i’m real interested to see what they’ll say about me walking into your house before noon.”

you should say something. should tell her you’ll meet her outside or that your father’s in the barn or that ms. matthews could be watching from her parlor window.

but instead you step back and open the door wider.

“come on in.”

she steps past you, slow like she’s walking into water. you shut the door behind her and it clicks too loud in the quiet.

“kitchen’s through here,” you say, leading her in. there’s a loaf of bread cooling on the counter and a pot of tea steeping by the window. you don’t offer any of it. you don’t have to.

van leans against the counter, looking too at home. her eyes skim down your body, quick but not discreet. she lingers on the hem of your shirt, the line of your collarbone. the way the sunlight spills through the window and clings to the white cotton, outlining your bra faintly underneath.

“you bake too?”

you nod, pretending not to notice the way she’s looking. “keeps my hands busy.”

“that why you keep bees?”

“i like the sting,” you say before you can stop yourself.

van’s smile lifts, slow and dangerous. “you always talk like that?”

you flush, turn to the shelf. reach for the small jar, the one you’d tucked away after lottie’s words yesterday. it’s darker than the others. thicker. smells like wildflowers and something warmer.

you hold it out to her. “this one’s sweeter.”

she takes it, but doesn’t look away from you. her fingers brush yours, and something flickers behind her eyes—sharp and electric.

“and what’s the price for this one?”

you try to laugh it off. “didn’t know you planned to pay.”

“oh, i plan to,” she says, and you can feel it again—that pull. that thing that lives in the way she says your name, in the way she doesn’t look away. it’s not loud. it’s just there.

you move past her to the sink, needing to do something with your hands. rinse off the flour. you can feel her still watching.

“you always this quiet?” she asks after a beat. “or just when girls flirt with you?”

you pause. hands under the water. not sure what to say.

“i don’t mind it,” she adds, stepping closer. “makes it easier to hear myself think.”

you glance at her, meet her eyes for real this time. there’s something soft behind the smirk. something you’re afraid to name.

“you ever been with a girl before?” she asks it so simply. like it’s not the kind of question that could set a whole fire.

you shake your head.

she steps closer. “but you’ve thought about it.”

your voice is barely there. “yeah.”

“me?”

you don’t answer. you don’t have to.

she grins, just a little, and leans back against the counter again. gives you space like she’s giving you a choice.

you wipe your hands on the apron, heart going too fast.

“you want tea?” you ask, already reaching for a second cup.

“only if you’re having some too.”

you pour two mugs and sit across from her at the kitchen table. the light is soft through the window, dancing on the honey jar between you. she spoons some into her cup without asking. you do the same.

she watches the way you stir it in. watches like it means something.

“you gonna tell me why you really came?” you ask after a moment.

van smiles, tilts her head.

“i already did.”

you look down at your tea, steam curling up in slow ribbons. your fingers graze the rim of the mug, but your skin’s humming for something else.

you think about lottie yesterday—her soft smile, the strange, still way she looked at you when she said, “you might want to start a loaf. just a feeling.”

you’d laughed it off at the time, but the memory makes your chest flutter now. because she was right. van’s here. just like she said.

you swallow. “you think you’re smooth,” you say quietly.

“i know i am.”

you lift your eyes again. she’s looking at you like she wants to know how you taste when you’re flustered. and you think maybe, for once, you want to find out too.

“you staying long?” you ask, because you need to fill the air with something.

van shrugs. “depends.”

“on?”

“whether i get invited back.”

your throat feels too tight. your voice feels too small.

“you’re welcome anytime.”

van leans forward, resting her arms on the table, gaze dipping to your mouth before meeting your eyes again. “dangerous thing to say.”

“maybe i like danger.”

her tongue dips out to wet her bottom lip. she’s smiling again but it’s quieter now. more curious. like she wants to see what else you’ll say if she just stays still long enough.

she taps her fingers on the jar between you. “so… what else do you do when it’s just you and no one’s watching?”

your pulse jumps.

“you always ask questions like that?”

“only when the person answering looks this pretty doing it.”

you press your thighs together beneath the table. the air feels thicker now. like the room’s gotten smaller. like she’s closer than she is.

you don’t say anything. but you don’t look away either.

and van smiles like she knows she’s not leaving anytime soon.

the tea goes cold between you.

you don’t notice. not really. van’s still talking, voice low and warm, hands moving when she does, fingers brushing over the table like she’s drawing invisible circles. the room feels tilted somehow—like it shifted the second she stepped inside, like something’s humming just beneath the surface and neither of you are brave enough to touch it yet.

she tells you about a girl she met once, the way she smiled like trouble and kissed like she meant it. you laugh, shaking your head, but you can feel it in your stomach—this strange twist of something that feels a little like jealousy and a little like want.

“you ever think about leaving?” she asks suddenly, cutting through the quiet.

you look up from your mug. “what, this town?”

“yeah.”

“sometimes,” you say honestly. “not sure where i’d go, though.”

van nods, her pinkie tapping lightly against the rim of your cup. just a brush, but enough to make you look down and see how close her hand’s gotten to yours. she doesn’t move it. doesn’t pull away.

“you could go anywhere,” she says. “you’ve got that… flight risk thing about you.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

her eyes are on you again, but softer now. not teasing. just… seeing you.

you shift in your seat, your leg bumping into hers under the table. you don’t move it right away. she doesn’t either.

it makes your heart do that funny thing again. makes the collar of your shirt feel too tight.

“what about you?” you ask, trying to steady yourself. “you planning to just keep drifting around?”

van shrugs. “i like not knowing what’s next.”

you hum, watching the way the light catches her freckles, the way the tip of her ear’s turning pink again. it makes your stomach flutter, how easy she makes it look—this not knowing. this being.

“you ever get tired?” you ask softly.

“of?”

“not having something to come back to.”

van leans forward slightly, her arm brushing yours. this time, the touch lingers. not enough to be anything yet. just enough to make your skin feel warm where she’s touching.

she doesn’t answer right away. just looks at you like she’s deciding what to say.

“depends,” she says eventually. “sometimes i think i wouldn’t mind something… quieter.”

you don’t ask what she means. the words are enough. the tone. the way her voice dips on quieter, like she means this. like she means you.

you glance down at where her fingers are now resting just an inch from yours. slow, careful, she curls her pinkie around yours. not holding. not grabbing. just that little hook. like a promise. like a dare.

your breath catches.

“you okay?” she murmurs, like she can feel it.

you nod. you think you nod.

she smiles again, real gentle this time. “good.”

you both sit there like that for a while. pinkies linked. legs touching under the table. eyes flicking up and down and back again.

and it’s not much. not yet.

but it’s enough to make your whole body feel like it’s holding its breath.

and neither of you seems ready to exhale.

you don’t even remember what you were saying, just that van’s knee brushes yours under the table and neither of you moves away. her hand is resting on the bench between you now, just barely touching your skirt. light. tentative. like she’s testing the air between you.

“you always this nice to strangers?” she asks, voice low, lazy in that way that makes it sound like a dare.

you smile, a little shaky. “depends on the stranger.”

her eyes drop to your mouth.

your heart stumbles.

“am i pushin’ too far?” she asks, quieter now, like she’s afraid to break whatever spell you’re both caught in.

you shake your head. “no. i just…”

but you don’t finish. because she leans in and kisses you.

soft at first, like she’s giving you time to pull away. but you don’t—you lean closer. one of her hands comes up to brush your jaw, thumb skimming just beneath your ear, and your fingers find her thigh under the table without thinking, clutching the worn fabric of her jeans like a lifeline.

her mouth moves against yours slowly, her breath warm and a little shaky too, and when you let out the smallest sigh she deepens the kiss, her fingers slipping into your hair.

the bench creaks a little when she shifts closer, knees knocking together now. you’re fully turned toward her, hands on either side of her face like you’ve done this a hundred times.

you haven’t. but it feels like you should have.

her hand skims down, curling around your waist, thumb tracing the edge of your shirt where the fabric is thin and clinging to your skin from the heat.

“you sure?” she breathes, lips brushing yours.

you nod, whispering, “yeah.”

her mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time. you gasp when her fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing the small of your back, and she groans against your mouth like she’s been holding that in all day.

she kisses your neck, slow and reverent, right where your pulse is pounding. you tilt your head without thinking, letting her.

her other hand finds your thigh under the table, fingertips grazing bare skin where your skirt’s bunched up. your breath catches and she freezes, giving you the tiniest second to stop her.

but you don’t.

you reach for her instead.

your fingers tangling in the front of her shirt, pulling her closer like gravity's got a personal vendetta. her mouth finds yours again, deeper this time—less question, more answer. you don't remember standing, but you're both up now, the edge of the table bumping your hip as van backs you gently toward the counter, lips never straying far from yours.

your back meets wood and she pauses, hands on either side of you, bracketing your body like she's framing a picture. her breath is coming faster now, her eyes scanning your face like she's reading it cover to cover. like she's afraid she'll miss something if she blinks.

"you sure?" she asks again, quieter this time.

and you are. it's not even a question in your mind anymore. you've been sure since she first said your name like she was trying it on. since the moment her fingers brushed yours from across the honey jar.

so you nod. then say it, real soft, just so there's no mistaking: "i want this."

something in her face shifts—something a little wild, a little undone. she kisses you again, and this time there's no hesitation. her hands are on your waist, fingers curling in your shirt, bunching the fabric slowly until it's untucked and rising.

"tell me if it's too much," she murmurs against your jaw, between kisses that trail down to your collarbone, "i'll stop."

"don't," you breathe, your fingers sliding under the hem of her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin, the solid line of her stomach. "i want you."

she exhales, almost like it hurts. "yeah?" her voice is wrecked, reverent. "god, you have no idea what that does to me."

you pull her in again, mouths meeting like magnets, like it's inevitable. she lifts you, easy, like she's done it before, and sets you on the counter. the wood's warm under your thighs, and her hands slide up your legs, slow and careful, never rushing, always asking with every touch.

"still good?" she asks, her forehead pressed to yours.

you reach down, guide one of her hands beneath your skirt, fingers trembling slightly as they meet bare skin.

"still good," you whisper. "better than good."

van kisses you again like she believes it now—like she's been trying not to. it's like the world narrows down to just that moment. just her touch. just the quiet sound you make as your head falls to her shoulder, your breath catching against her neck.

van's hand is under your skirt now. fingers dragging slow, steady paths along the inside of your thigh—pausing just long enough to make you ache. you shift against her, chasing the contact, and she huffs a low laugh, mouth brushing your jaw as she murmurs, "needy thing."

you manage a breathless, "please," and that's all it takes.

her fingers slip beneath the edge of your underwear, and the first touch is careful—measured—like she wants to feel how every little change in pressure pulls a sound from your lips.

"oh," you breathe, and she leans in closer kissing your throat as her fingers work deeper—sliding, curling just right until your breath hitches, until your hand grabs blindly at the counter for something to hold on to.

"you're already so wet," she says, voice low, rough at the edges. "is this all for me?"

you nod—whimper, really—and van's mouth finds yours again, swallowing the sound as her fingers curl just right inside you.

the rhythm builds slow, but certain—like she's not in a hurry, like she wants to make you feel every second of it. her palm presses tight against you with every motion, coaxing soft, involuntary gasps from your mouth, and when she speeds up just a little, your knees fall further apart without thinking.

she's watching you now, you can feel it. her breath hot on your cheek, her voice right against your ear.

"tell me what you need," she whispers, fingers stroking deeper, steadier.

"i—van—don't stop—"

and that's all she needs.

her other hand grips your hip to hold you steady, and she keeps going, thumb finding that stop that makes your back arch, your breath break. you're trembling now, hips rolling into her hand, chasing that edge with everything you've got, and van's right there with you—murmuring soft nothings, kissing you through it like she wants to taste your every breath.

you fall apart in her arms—slow, drawn out, the kind of release that makes the world blink out for a second—and she holds you steadily through it, fingers gentling, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your mouth.

when it's over, you're slumped against her, legs shaking, heart thundering like it might burst right through your chest.

van pulls back just enough to see your bace, her hand still resting warm on your thigh. she grins—crooked, flushed, wrecked—and says, "hope you've got more of that honey."

you laugh, dazed and breathless, and kiss her again.

van's hums into your mouth, like she's trying to memorize the taste. when she finally pulls back, she nudges her nose against yours and murmurs, "could get used to breakfast like this."

you snort, still a little shaky. "that wasn't breakfast."

she grins. "then i'm real excited for the rest of the menu."

you swat at her shoulder, but she catches your wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it, right where your pulse flutters. her eyes find yours again—steady, golden in the light spilling through the kitchen window.

"i could head out," she says casually, thumb brushing lazy circles against your skin. "but that'd be a damn shame, seeing as how i've got nowhere better to be. and your daddy's not due back 'til tomorrow."

you raise an eyebrow. "you planning to scandalize the whole town?"

van smirks, leaning in until her lips are a breath from yours. "i think it'd be more of a scandal if i left now."

you don't argue.

outside, the bees hum low in their boxes. inside, the air smells like warm bread and wildflower honey and her.

you kiss her once more, slow and smiling, and whisper, "you can stay."

and she does.

#van palmer x reader #van x reader #van palmer #van yellowjackets #yellowjackets #yellowjackets au #lottie matthews #misty quigley #taissa turner #yellowjackets season 3 #liv hewson #lauren ambrose #cowboy #wild west au #cowboy au #farmers daughter

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luxthestrange · 3 months ago

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TWST Incorrect quotes#731 Adoption goin fine-

Crowley: What's annoying dealing with... imbecile "friends" who have a son the same age as your child..and he comes into your own office, carrying his shitty creation-...and he still boasts with gall!-

Ambrose*Holding presenting his son*eeeh?~

Crowley*With a #1 slut-dad, glaring at his rival headmage and his only son*...what do you want, bastard?

Ambrose: Aww come on, don't get like that old friend, but can you imagine it!

Crowley*Sipping his coffee, still, brooding*I imagine a lot of shit- that's what I dedicate myself to

Ambrose: Don't get defensive, I'm just saying!When your child and my son grow up!...what if!...they got married~

Crowley*Eyelid twitching and smiling with veins on his chin*"What if" they DONT-You're son is too damn ugly!!! I DON'T WANT THOSE GENES IN MY SCHOOL!!! SO YOU AND THE WALKIN' TWINK CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF OUTTA MY COLLEGE!?-

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Adopted!Yuu: Ugh, there’s always that weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder. Adopted!Yuu*Glares at Crowley* Crowley: Well, sorry I have morals!

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Trey: Did you guys ever think of having a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance?

Adopted!Yuu & Ace: No.

Trey: Didn't think so. But hey, you agreed with each other just now. That's a start!

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Surprisingly...Yuu and Aurel, as you nicknamed him, get along well,as friends

Aurelianus, teaching Adopted!Yuu to drive: Okay, Yuu, what does a green light mean? Adopted!Yuu: Go! Aurelianus: A red light? Adopted!Yuu: Stop! Aurelianus: And what about a yellow light?... Adopted!Yuu: If you floor it, you can make it! Aurelianus: …No—

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Aurelianus: Is Mal always like this when they lose? Adopted!Yuu: Oh, yes. You should've been there for the Great Jenga Tantrum of XXXX Mal: You bumped that table and you know it!?!

Part 4 of:

I totally...forgot this au existed-...WELP-SAY HELLO TO MY OC!

Aurelianus Ambrose the LXIV-

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x yuu #twst x reader #twst fluff #twst oc #twst rsa #dire crowley #twst ambrose #trey clover #ace trappola #malleus draconia #deadbeat dad crowley #twisted wonderland x reader #adopted yuu #twst incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

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a-simple-imagine · 3 months ago

Text

Just A Taste

Requested by anonymous: "i was wondering if you could do adult van palmer x reader who is a really good cook/baker and always makes food for van? you can obviously add more i just like the idea of van being a terrible cook and relying on reader for amazing food"

Pairing: adult!van palmer x fem!reader

Words: 3.8k+

A/N - watched a van palmer hc tiktok that suggested van makes a mean grilled cheese, and you know what? I agree

WARNING- swearing and suggestive themes. teeny tiny reference to a teeny tiny age difference

'While You Were Streaming'. A cute retro video store popularised by the local kids and nerdy adults that inhabit the small college town. It was a safe haven seeped in nineties nostalgia. renting out VHS tapes and players, but also selling collectibles and toys. It was akin to a comic book store but with a focus on movies. And while you were never one for frequent trips down memory lane, you found yourself here often. Today was no different. The bell rings out as you step inside on your regularly scheduled hour-long lunch break. Although today it was looking more like a hard thirty minutes, with twenty of those minutes being spent on the journey there and back to work. However, the amount of time would never stop you when you weigh up the benefits. You pretend to peruse the shelves as you make your way towards the counter; glancing over classic movies like 'The Godfather' and 'Stand By Me' in pursuit of something much more entertaining. The owner was already deep in conversation as you reached your destination. Ever the passionate cinephile, as she debates something with a young woman. It almost felt cruel to interrupt, and so you don't. You wait patiently listening to the tail end of a discussion until she notices you. You can't help but catch the way her lips curl up into a grin as she politely bids the customer farewell.

Gentle blue eyes take you in. Filling your stomach with the familiar fluttering, much like a childhood crush, but you just can't get enough. "Hey,"

"Hello," She responds. "Is there anything I can help you with today, Miss?"

"There is actually," You nod a little, playing along despite your limited time. You can't help but give in to her whimsy. "I'm looking for someone. They're usually around these parts, so maybe you've seen them?"

"Oh? Maybe I have, what are they like?"

"Hmm," You hum thoughtfully. "She's like exactly your height, long red hair and these scars on her face that she'll never tell you about," You explain, eyes drifting over the other woman. "Frankly, just the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She's also like mad funny, kinda lame but makes up for it in other ways."

"Lame?" She asks, a curious raise of her scarred brow.

"Yeah she's just really into old movies and tech and shit," You shrug. "probably why shes always in here,"

"Hey," Stated sharply. "Insult me all you want, but my store is off limits."

You chuckle lightly to yourself, running your hand over the smooth surface of the countertop. "My bad. I'm so sorry, 'While You Were Streaming', whatever would the local youths do without your old toys and VHS tapes?"

She swats your hand lightly. "You're just Jealous that all the kids love me because I'm fucking rad." Her eyes narrowed, hands came to lean against the counter like she was ready to pounce. Protecting her baby. You shuffle closer, dropping your bag and copying her pose. Issuing a challenge.

"Not sure the cool kids would say 'rad'," You contest quietly. A playful edge to your tone. You both stand in stalemate for a few seconds before she slowly leans in to connect your lips in the briefest of embraces.

"Hi," Whispered against your skin, the tingle of her touch lingering as she pulls back. Her eyes searching yours, a cheeky grin. Van fucking Palmer. You're suddenly back in your surroundings, grabbing the bag you brought along.

"I brought you lunch."

"What's on the menu today?"

"Nothing fancy, I didn't have a lot of time," You shrug. "A Cuban sandwich. Cubano if you're feeling fancy."

"You're too good to me."

"I know," You smile, placing the sandwich down before her. It's neatly wrapped up in its entirety in lilac lining paper. Arguably, the hardest part of making the whole thing. "I gotta get back,"

"Okay," She nods a little. "Thanks for the food."

"You're quite welcome," You insist. "Enjoy the best sandwich you will ever have in your entire life."

"I'm sure I will," She offers half a smile. "Call you later."

"You better," Declared sharply, you twist on your heel and head for the door, only to abruptly turn back. "You should come by the restaurant tonight- if you're free. doing this food tasting thing. real lowkey."

"Oh, uh yeah, maybe." You try and give her the benefit of the doubt. That wasn't a no. You try not to let the idea of rejection you've made up in your head go to your heart.

"Well, the offers there," You shrug, "And if you're lucky, maybe I'll let you bring me back to your place." You toss her a wink paired with a playful smile. Even with the distance, you can see the colour pink dusting her cheeks. Van always took as good as she gave, but she was never very good at hiding her emotions on her face. "Who knows?"

"Go," She states while smiling.

"Think about it," You let the double meaning hang for a moment, actually heading for the door now. "I'll send pics if I have to."

"Please do," She calls back.

"You'd never get any work done if I did," You taunt, "Bye." The bell rings again, signalling your departure. As the door clicks shut behind you, you take a deep breath before heading off back towards your work.

The restaurant you work at is small in size but mighty in demand. It provides an almost exclusive experience without the ridiculous price tag. It hadn't really meant to be that way, but having limited table space and an increased demand made it seem that way. You're not the head chef, but you try really hard. You practice a lot and like coming up with new recipes. Today was stressful. A non-stop barrage of people being extra demanding. Your only moment of peace was visiting Van during your break. Even as you close for the night, the work doesn't stop for you. After many hours of overtime and begging, you had finally been allowed to use the restaurant to curate some new recipes. Your own special dishes. It was just for some of your coworkers. The ones you actually liked.

"Chef," Yelled through the kitchen.

"Yeah?" You ask, too focused on the task at hand to even look at who was calling you.

"There's a woman out here asking for you." That does bring you out of your workflow. A shiver of hope as you glance up.

"A redhead?" But you've already been left alone. You hesitate for a moment before whipping off your apron and heading out of the kitchen. Your friends all sit at a table chatting amongst themselves, and by the host podium stands said redhead. Dressed in smart-fitted trousers and a shirt, you don't think you have ever seen her wear before. She offers half a smile and a small wave. God, she was beautiful. It makes your mouth run dry. "You came," Said fondly as you approached. A rich, smoky cologne tickling your senses. "I wasn't sure you would."

"You act like I never leave the house." You'd make a joke if you weren't just so happy to see her. Stealing a kiss you just can't wait for.

"You look so handsome."

"Thanks," She smooths down her shirt as if she didn't already look exquisite. You take her hand. It's warm and a little sweaty, but you giddily lead the way towards the table of friends.

"Guys, this is Van, she'll be joining us for the night," You announce; feeling her squeeze your hand slightly. Nerves perhaps? "Be nice," There is a chorus of polite hellos, as you let go to pull out the chair. "For you." A degree of reluctance as she takes a seat. "I'm just gonna finish plating up, then'll bring out something for you guys to try." As you head back to the kitchen, you spare her a glance. A little out of place amongst the others. You know she's probably feeling it too.

Tonight was a two-course dining experience. Just two small dishes paired with good wine and friendly conversation. You had been working on creating these recipes all week. Practising in whatever spare time you have. It had taken a level of courage to invite Van. You didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, but she seemed to be getting along with the others quite well. You only really see her briefly between courses. But as you serve up the second plate, you finally get a chance. Watching other people eat your food was actually incredibly humbling; it made your stomach churn. You pushed that aside to remain at the table beside Van. A hand resting on her thigh to keep you in the moment. She didn't seem to mind.

"So how do you two know each other?" A classic question with a pretty ordinary answer. You walked into her store one day, and the rest was history.

"Uh, so Van owns the retro video store not too far from here,"

"While You Were Streaming?" Your coworker pipes up. "My buddy swears by that place."

"That's the one," You confirm.

"She only ever shows up to get me to taste her food." Van's hand comes to rest upon yours. Drawing your attention for a moment to see her teasing smile.

"I do not?"

"So all those lunchtime food deliveries?"

You can't help but laugh. It wasn't like you always went to visit Van, but if you were making food for her, you'd tell everyone you have a delivery to make. It was never a lie. "Guilty but if I don't she'll just eat crap so i occasionally drop of a little lunch for her because I'm so nice and amazing."

"Nice and amazing? We must be talking about different people,"

"fuck you," Playfully spat at your colleague. "I am a delight."

"You're lucky you can cook,"

"You think I'm a delight, right?" A glance back at the other woman. Bottom lip pushes out in a bit of a pout. You watch her eyes flicker down to your lips before her shoulders rise and fall.

"You're certainly... something that's for sure."

"I have just slaved away in that kitchen to so lovingly prepare a meal for all of you," Over enunciated words and a hand over your heart. "And this is how you treat me? Why don't you just take me out back and shoot me?"

Thankfully, the evening went a lot better than you had expected. It had been a long, stressful day, but you'd managed not to feel it for too long. And everyone seemed to like the food. Giving you long evaluations on everything from the flavours to the presentation. Next time would be even better. But as the clock ticks on, the room soon settles to just you and Van. You had promised to lock up tonight. Another condition that came with borrowing the space. But you linger a while longer. A rich chocolate sponge spared for this exact moment. It was diminutive but rich. You had only made one. In hopes that Van would show up and you could share it together.

"So... what did you really think?" You wonder.

"About?"

"My food obviously." You talk a good game. Make jokes about how talented you are, but taste is subjective. And while your co-workers all had opinions to share, all you really wanted to know was what Van thought? She wasn't like the others. Didn't work in the industry. No fancy words to disguise her true meaning.

"It was good," You wait for her to elaborate. To give you something more than good. You deserved something more than good. But she doesn't. Your brow knitted together in a frown.

"That's it? Just good?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know- give me more? How good? How did it make you feel? What did you like exactly? anything really." You would be lying if you said her answer wasn't a little disappointing, but you suppose it's to be expected. You didn't expect her to just blindly praise you, especially if she didn't like it, but you just wanted an honest opinion. Just saying 'good' makes you feel like she didn't actually like it. The woman holds your gaze as she puts a small bite of cake into her mouth. A look of contemplation as she chews. Taking her time with it.

"It's..." Her mouth scrunches up to one side. "Good."

You push her shoulder. You don't know why you thought she might honestly give a serious answer. Van is nothing if not consistent.

"Okay okay, seriously... I don't know," Van responds. "I like it, but I would like anything you brought out because you made it." You stare at her for a long moment. Trying to gauge if she meant it or was just messing with you still. Sincerity in those soft blue eyes with a perfectly matched smile. You can feel yourself getting hot, so you swallow hard and shove her again.

"Fuck you." The chocolate cake sits pretty and half-eaten. A welcome distraction from your burning cheeks.

"The hell?" Her hands shoot up in faux surrender.

"I want a proper answer."

"That was," Picking up the fork from the far side of the plate, you stick it into the sponge and pull a piece away. Popping it into your mouth.

"No, you were flirting. You're always flirting." Van chuckles. Loud and hearty: so delightfully warm. A siren's song that you could listen to for eternity. Heat tingling in your chest.

"I can't help it," She insists. "You're just so... captivating."

"Stop," You insist, scrunching up your face. The rush of heat surpassing your cheeks and taking over your entire face. You feel so embarrassed despite being the only one to hear her compliments. Her laughter tickling your ears.

"Your food is good," Van insists. "It tastes good and looks... Impressive. That's just not my scene, you know? I prefer the stuff you bring me for lunch. You're really talented but that sandwich you brought me earlier was fucking delicious." You look to her once more. Ignoring the way your face burns or the fluttering in your stomach to offer a small appreciative smile. That was what you were looking for from her. Honesty.

"Thank you," You reply quietly.

"Any time,"

"We should head out before you declare your undying love for me over my incredible chocolate cake." You taunt.

"Sure,"

"I just need to finish up in the kitchen and lock the back," You explain, rising out of your seat. "Wait for me by the door like a good boy." A scoff, you just ignore as you collect the plate and fork, heading towards the kitchen with a grin. You toss the plate in the pot wash, grateful that you did most of the washing as you went along. You do a final sweep of the place before heading out to meet Van, who's leaning against the wall right by the door. They immediately brighten when they notice you. Setting the alarm, you pull open the door and usher them out into the cool night air. Making sure it's locked up behind them. With a smile, you head off down the street. It's a few minutes of comfortable silence before you decide to break it. "Thanks for coming tonight. I really didn't think you would,"

"You think so little of me."

"No, I just know you," You state, "and you can be a bit of a homebody." You know Van can't argue with that because it was very much true, and there was nothing wrong with that. You weren't exactly a party animal yourself. "Also this shirt looks so fucking good on you. It took everything in me not to jump your bones."

"Oh really?"

"You should get dressed up for me more often."

"You think it looks good now, it'll look even better on the bedroom floor,"

"Just couldn't help yourself, huh?"

"You set it up."

"You're such a child." A roll of your eyes. Van lived in the space above her store, so your walk home wasn't very long. Standing outside her front door like two school kids about to part ways. There was something so uniquely beautiful about the way Van Palmer made you feel. Like you were seventeen again and this was your first real relationship. That childhood sense of wonder is so apparent. The swarms of butterflies that appear whenever you see her. Laughing at all her jokes. Just wanting to be around her all the time. Sharing your lunch breaks. It was crappy mix tapes and sneaking into R - rated movies. Photobooths and rollerskates. Summer night sleepovers where you steal the occasional glance when nobody else is looking. You really like her. You're not ashamed of the fact. You would tell anyone who would listen. "So you gonna invite me in for a nightcap or what?"

"A nightcap?"

"Isn't that what you old people say?" You tease. Van just takes your hand and heads for the door, leading you into her place, but not without lacing your fingers together.

The next morning comes too soon. Buried in the thick covers, shielding yourself from the bright sunlight streaming in through her open window. Why did it have to be so bright? A groan sounds in your throat, muffled by the plush fabric of the pillow. You reach out, hoping to find another still sleeping next to you, however, you're met with the soft bounce of the mattress. A low grumble as you look over at the empty space. You had been hoping for a lazy morning. You'd spend all day in this bed if you could, but apparently Van had other plans. You are not quite awake enough to go searching, so you lie there a little longer. relishing in the softness. the warmth. drifting between various levels of consciousness. Eventually, you decide you want Van, so you get up, find the biggest t-shirt she owns and exit the bedroom. The other woman is found lounging on the couch. You walk over, dragging your feet the entire way. "Hi sleepy head."

"You got up without me," A pout as you rub the sleep from tired eyes. The redhead reaches for your hand, using it to draw you ever so slowly closer. As your knees bump into the cushions, you collapse on top of her. Wrapping your arms around her and nuzzling against her chest, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Good morning to you too- or should I say afternoon?" Van lays a delicate kiss upon your head. You whine peacefully. Appreciating the feeling of being against her. The rise and fall of her chest lulling you back to sleep. You wish you could stay like this forever.

"Do you wanna get breakfast?" Uttered quietly after a moment.

"More like lunch," Van jokes. "You don't have work?"

"Not today," You mumble into her t-shirt. "And if you don't open the store we can have lunch somewhere cute."

"I could make us something," A huff of a laugh leaves your lips. You look up to her, resting on your chin.

"Oh, you're serious,"

"Yeah," You've always been the one to cook. Mostly because you love to do it, but also because Van wasn't a big cook, and whenever she's tried, it's been a disaster. That's why you started making her lunches, so at least she was getting one decent meal a day.

"Do you remember what happened last time?" Van could burn water if you let her.

"Just trust me. You're always cooking for me, I wanna make you something."

You hum thoughtfully, tightening your grip around her. "Fine but not right now, I wanna cuddle some more." Your fingers play with the hem of her shirt before slipping underneath. Her skin was warm and soft to the touch. She lets out a satisfied hum.

"God, you're so obsessed with me,"

"Damn right Palmer," You tease. "Got a problem with that?"

"Not even a little," A silence settles. You lay together a little longer. Delighting in her company. Taking notice of her heartbeat. God, Van was so quickly becoming everything to you and that was so exciting and so so scary.

Sitting impatiently at the table, your eyes follow her as she works. You'd been banished from standing next to her because apparently you ask too many questions. You were just curious. Wanted to know every step of the process in case of overwhelming success or complete disaster. Your legs swing in rapid succession; so much excitement. The smell that filled the space was making your mouth water and stomach growl. That was a very good sign. Van places a plate down before you. A single sandwich sliced perfectly in two. Fresh, golden brown and oozing with cheese. You grab your knife and run it over the surface, listening to the way it scrapes across the bread. "Just eat it," Van orders. "It's best really hot." The woman reaches over the table to steal the other half of the sandwich, taking a big bite. Your mouth parting at the way the cheese strings between the bread and her lips. When her lips curl, your eyes flicker upwards to see her staring at you. Caught in the act, your attention diverts to the sandwich. Picking up the other half, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply. "Baby,"

"Leave me alone, I'm appreciating the artistry."

"Best way to do that is to try it, or do you need me to feed you?" You roll your eyes, holding her gaze as you finally take a bite. Crunching into beautifully toasted bread; it's buttery and crisp, just a hint of salt. Molten cheese seeps into your mouth, stringing between the sandwich and your lips as you pull it away. There was definitely more than one kind of cheese in here, and it's absolutely mouthwatering. It's so delicious you can't help the groan that slips past your lips. A result of your morning appetite and also just how satisfactory the sandwich turned out to be. You take another bite and then another. Quick. Desperate.

"So?"

"Fuck me, Van," mumbled through a mouth full of cheese. "This is incredible."

"I told you,"

"Yeah, but this is like- wow." Even if you ignored your doubts and her proven track record, at best, you expected a decent sandwich. But this grilled cheese blew those expectations sky-high. "Fuck."

"I know it's good, but you can calm down." Van chuckles, taking another mouthful. You definitely could not. You had so many questions.

"i could quite literally not be hornier for you right now," you jest, pulling the pieces of bread apart to inspect the cheese between. "this might be the best grilled cheese i've ever had."

"Probably should have guessed a good sandwich would get you going." The other woman teases, tossing her piece back down on the plate.

"You make fun but given half the chance-"

"Don't threaten me with a good time." Van interrupts

You shove the last of the bread in your mouth and pick up the other half. "Let me finish this, and I'll definitely keep my word."

#van palmer #van palmer x reader #van palmer x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #lauren ambrose

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fanfics4all · 4 months ago

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Devil's Blood: Part 3

Request: Yes / No Hello I am sorry for sending this just after you posted but I absolutely love your Sabrina Devil's blood series. Would you be up for a part 3 of the siblings bonding as Y/N starts harnessing his magic abilities and they go on another hunt? @jamiedc-they-them

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Sabrina Spellman x Brother!Reader

Word count: 1353

Warnings: Nothing I think

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The first lesson went way better than expected. I sat at the table with Sabrina and Ambrose, both of them watching as I absentmindedly flicked my wrist, causing the candle in front of me to light instantly.

Sabrina blinked. “Okay… that was fast.”

Ambrose crossed his arms, studying me with mild amusement. “I’ll admit, I was expecting some struggle, maybe a little frustration, but no, you just pick it up like it’s nothing.”

I shrugged. “It feels natural, I guess.” I held up my hand again, and the flame on the candle doubled in size. “Like I already knew how to do it, I just needed a reason to try.”

Sabrina shook her head in disbelief. “That’s insane! It takes most witches years to master this kind of control.”

Ambrose smirked. “Well, he is the son of Lucifer. I suppose it’s not that shocking.”

I gave him a look. “You say that like it explains everything.”

Ambrose gestured at the candle, then at me. “It kind of does.”

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. Sure, I knew I had magic in me, but I never really used it, never cared to. I was a hunter- magic had always felt unnecessary. But now? It felt right. Like it had been waiting for me to tap into it.

Sabrina leaned forward. “Alright, since you’re apparently a prodigy, let’s try something harder.” She pushed another candle forward.

“Light this one without saying the incantation.”

I raised a brow. “Just… will it to happen?”

“Exactly.”

I focused on the candle, exhaling slowly. I didn’t think too hard, just let the power flow, and-

Fwoosh.

The candle lit instantly, the flame burning bright. Sabrina and Ambrose exchanged glances.

“Alright.” Ambrose said, nodding approvingly. “That’s impressive.”

Sabrina grinned. “I think you might actually be a badass warlock!”

I smirked. “Took you this long to realize I’m a badass?”

Ambrose chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, if this is how quickly you’re learning, I suppose we’ll have to speed up your training.”

I leaned back, feeling a little smug. “Bring it on.”

Maybe magic was my thing after all.

A few weeks later, my magic had only grown stronger. Too strong. Every spell I cast came effortlessly. Every incantation rolled off my tongue like second nature. I didn’t need potions- just a flick of my fingers, a thought, and things happened. It should’ve felt incredible. It should’ve made me feel powerful. Instead, it made me feel sick.

I sat outside our house, staring at my hands, clenching and unclenching my fingers. The more I used magic, the more it felt like something was calling to me. Not just any something- him. Lucifer. My so-called Father.

Sabrina and Ambrose found me there, noticing my silence right away.

“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked, sitting beside me.

Ambrose leaned against the railing, arms crossed. “You’ve been distant the past couple of days, cousin.”

I exhaled sharply. “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

“Magic. How strong it is. How easy it is.” I shook my head, looking away.

“It feels like I’m being pulled toward something. Toward him. Like this is exactly what he wants. Like the more I use it, the more I become his.”

Sabrina’s face softened, but Ambrose just hummed, unsurprised.

“Well, I hate to break it to you.” He said. “But this is part of who you are.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No, but it does mean you have to accept it.”

Sabrina put a hand on my arm. “Y/N/N, I get why you’re freaked out. But magic isn’t good or evil- it’s about who wields it. And right now, you wield it.”

I clenched my jaw. “But what if using it makes me more like him?”

Ambrose scoffed. “You’re nothing like him, mate.”

Sabrina nodded. “You’re using this power to kill demons, Y/N. The very creatures he thrives on. If anything, you’re throwing it right back in his face.”

I let out a dry laugh. “You really think that?”

Sabrina squeezed my arm. “This is the only way you’re going to keep slaying demons. Your magic makes you stronger. You have to use it.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. They weren’t wrong. As much as I hated it, I needed it.

“Fine…” I muttered. “But if I start growing horns, you have permission to kill me.”

‘Brina smirked. “Deal.”

The next hunt came quicker than I expected. I caught wind of a demon terrorizing a small town just outside of Greendale, and this time, I wasn’t going to hold back. If I was going to use my magic, I was going to use it.

We found the demon lurking in the basement of an abandoned house- a grotesque, snarling thing with glowing red eyes and jagged claws. It lunged at me, but before it could get close, I threw up my hand and sent it crashing into the far wall with a flick of my wrist.

Sabrina whistled. “Well, damn.”

The demon recovered fast, charging again. I didn’t move. I didn’t need to. With a muttered incantation, black chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around it’s limbs and yanking it backward. It howled, struggling against them.

I took a slow step forward, my palm heating with energy. “You like hunting the weak, don’t you?” I said. “Well, let’s see how you handle someone who fights back.”

The demon growled something in a language I hadn’t studied, but I didn’t give it a chance to speak further. With another word, the chains tightened, and my magic ignited around it, consuming it in black and red flames. The demon shrieked as the fire swallowed it whole, leaving behind only ash.

Silence filled the basement.

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders, and then turned to my sister. She stared at me, arms crossed, one brow raised.

“Well,” She said. “That was… efficient.”

I smirked. “You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. Last time, you nearly got yourself killed. This time? You barely even moved.”

I shrugged. “I told you I was gonna use my magic.”

Sabrina shook her head, still processing. Then she smirked. “You know… after seeing that, maybe Aunties won’t be so against you hunting alone again.”

I chuckled. “You think?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I mean, they’ll still be mad, but at least they won’t be as mad if they know you can actually handle yourself.”

I grinned. “That’s the best I can hope for, I guess.”

Sabrina laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here before something else crawls out of the shadows.”

With one last glance at the demon’s remains, I followed her out. Maybe she was right. Maybe our Aunties would let me hunt alone again. Either way, I wasn’t stopping.

*3rd Person POV*

In the dimly lit basement, the air was still thick with the remnants of power. The only trace of the demon that had once lurked was a pile of ash, faintly glowing with residual energy. From the shadows, a figure emerged.

Lucifer Morningstar stepped forward, his steps silent against the cold concrete floor. He knelt, reaching out to brush his fingers over the ash. A smirk tugged at his lips as he closed his eyes, feeling the lingering magic in the remains. It was unmistakable- his son’s power. Strong. Raw. Unrestrained.

And growing.

Lucifer let out a low chuckle, opening his eyes as he studied the glowing embers between his fingertips.

“As expected.” He murmured, amusement flickering in his voice.

“You’re coming along beautifully, my boy.”

He straightened, dusting off his hands before glancing toward the entrance of the basement, where his children had just left.

“And dear Sabrina…” He mused, tilting his head slightly. “Always so stubborn. Always so righteous. But in the end, I knew she would be the one to push you toward this path.” His smirk widened as he stepped back into the shadows.

“It was only a matter of time.”

With a final glance at the ashen remains of the demon, Lucifer disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the faint echo of his laughter lingering in the empty room.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @lover2448

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riptides-n-roses · 4 months ago

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c*ck rider - jon moxley (18+)

⛧ pair: jon moxley x reader

⛧ tags: @88changemymind @reigns-prophecy @cyberdejos2 (please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future ffs)

⛧ warnings: explicit content, cockwarming (duh hence the title), nonchalant jon, jon being an asshole, (unprotected p in v, creampie, as always minors should not interact.

⛧ the title is so fucking dumb but it's so funny at the same time (A wrestler's theme sometimes works magic) . i do miss writing smut for you all - i hate that college is keeping me busy and i hate that i have way too many drafts atm (i gotta fix that soon); short because my body hurts and i haven't slept properly in weeks (I love you guys though so...)

⛧ no plot - jon is deep in thinking because of his feud with copeland

⛧ word count: 502

You whined as Jon gripped your flesh, his knuckles turning bone white as you grind against him. It was another day where your partner wasn't in the mood for passionate sex, especially after his match with Adam Copeland. Jon's focus was on your shared tv - deep in his thoughts while you rode his cock, buried deep in your walls.

You were met with silence and the sound of sex. Frustrated, you bounced a little faster only to be met with a harsh slap across your ass

"Jon..." You whined, trying to get his attention, slowly bouncing up and down, your arms wrapped around him.

"Watch yourself. I'll make you regret making me more irritated than I already am, dollface."

You shivered to Jon's words. You knew it was a threat, especially when he isn't playing with your tits or using his hands to overstimulate your clit.

You whined into the crook of his neck, going back to slowly grinding on Jon. It was intoxicating, every slow stroke, your walls tightening around him, you were getting impatient.

"I oughta make him regret trying to get in my way..." Jon muttered, his hands digging in your flesh "I'm the one keeping this company alive"

You yelped as he roughly bit your earlobe, noticing him trying to escape his thoughts about his recent feud with Copeland. Jon was the champion and he wasn't going to let go of the title any time soon. Even without his faction...

"He pisses me off...This is my title. I'm not letting anything change that...Fucking hell"

You moaned as he thrusted harder, his balls slapping against your clit, you bit into his neck, causing a lustful growl escaping from his lips.

"Do you enjoy this dollface?" He laughed, slapping your ass once more. "Do you want me to pay attention to you?"

"Please, daddy! I want your attention.." You moaned, your stomach beginning to tightening.

"Really? Do you think you deserve it?"

You gritted your teeth at his words. Now he was being a jackass. You bounced faster on him in response, receiving a low groan from Jon.

"God you're such a whore..." He threw his head back, his arms wrapping around your body, holding you closer. You finally felt satisfied - his thrusts getting sloppier.

"You know, dollface, I should thank you...this is better than whatever i'm dealing with..." Jon growled, his grip tightening around you.

You smiled to this, relieved that you could calm your partner down.

"Fuck...I'm getting close, dollface"

"I-I can't hold it anymore, Daddy." You were begging. It was hurting to hold it in now.

"Go ahead, doll.."

You screamed as you came, your walls tightening as you came all over him, not realizing Jon came in you, his warm seed filling you up.

Your breath hitched as Jon was still buried deep in you. Your legs shaking from your orgasm. You looked into his eyes, met with a lustful stare. He smirked as he grabbed your hips roughly.

"Don't think I'm finished with you just yet, dollface."

#wwe #jon moxley smut #jon moxley #jon moxley fanfic #jon moxley x reader #dean ambrose smut #smut ff #aew imagine #aew smut #all elite wrestling #aew fanfiction #dean ambrose fanfic #dean ambrose #dean ambrose x reader #oneshot

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monstersflashlight · 14 days ago

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Backfired vendetta

A/N: You can all thank Vamp (@teratopup) for the art of this part because it’s fantastic. Also, this is a dual POV and it overlaps a little, but I think it’s fantastic and heart shattering. But no worries, ends in happy ending… Kinda.

Ambrose (minotaur) x fem!reader || hurt/comfort, double POV

Ambrose POV

He checks his phone when it starts to ring, surprised to see Poppy’s name flashing across the screen (well, he sees: Snake with Arms, which is the name he saved her with).

“What happened?” He asks, instantly knowing full well that she wouldn’t call on his break if everything was okay.

With Poppy knowing that he’s taking his vendetta against his stupid best friend for telling you it was a good idea to pull at his tail, she especially wouldn't call today. He had to jerk off three times last night before he got his dick down enough to be able to sleep… Just to wake up a couple hours later to do it again because he could still feel the phantom touch of your tiny hand against his tail.

“What did you do?” She asks, her voice murderous. Ambrose is on high alert instantly, that tone in his other best friend’s voice only ever means trouble, and potentially bodily harm.

“What?” He questions in return.

At the same time, the baker says: “Oh, the umbrella girl must have dropped her umbrella, I wonder what happened...” She’s pointing to the street, and Ambrose’s heart skips a beat when he recognizes the umbrella you always carry around because of your sun allergy.

His brain starts to run a thousand possibilities, all of them worse than the ones before. Where are you? You shouldn’t be out without your umbrella. What if something happened? Are you okay? His heart is racing already, unsure of what to do.

Poppy isn’t having any of his panic though. “Get your ass in here immediately. If you don’t fix this I’m going to bite you with the bad venom!” He doesn’t get a chance to answer before Poppy hangs up on him.

He gets up, leaving his half eaten muffin on the table as he excuses himself: “I’m sorry, I think there’s an emergency at the parlor and I…”

The baker is smiling sweetly at him. “Yeah, yeah! No worries. Go help the umbrella girl. She’s your friend, right?” Her question makes his heart ache. Yeah… You’re his friend. Fuck, it hurts to think of you as only his friend. It hurts so bad it’s almost like getting nails pressing against his chest cavity.

“Something like that, yeah,” he finally responds, his jaw clenched as he walks to the door, his vendetta clearly forgotten.

“I’ll drop some muffins off for her later!” The baker yells behind him as he hurries out of the shop.

He picks up your umbrella and almost runs to the parlor, ignoring Brick’s angry face after having muffins with his mate, staring directly at Poppy and the neatly wrapped package on top of the counter. “What happened?” He asks again, his panic hitting a new level as the smell of your sadness in the air begins surrounding him. Fuck, something is really wrong.

Poppy’s voice is a whisper shout as she presses her index finger against Ambrose’s chest in a very angry manner. “You tell me what. She stormed in here without her umbrella, almost burst out in tears, and I’m willing to bet it’s your fault, you stupid bullhead!” Poppy curses him. “She’s in the bathroom, but I swear to the goddess, if you make her cry again, I will inject my venom in your balls and watch you cry out in pain for hours before calling the ambulance… And then I’ll do it again!��

Her threat makes his balls ache just thinking about it, but he rapidly forgets about it because there’s no way he’s not going to fix this. Whatever this is. He would do whatever it takes to make you not smell this… wrong. He can smell your sadness across the door, and it’s driving all his instincts into overdrive. He needs to protect his mate, he needs to take care of you, to be sure you’re well…

But above all, you need to stop smelling miserable before he does something stupid like confess he’s in love with you. Or fall to his knees and start crying himself. He knows his friends would never let him live that down, but damn, it’s what he wants to do right now when he’s smelling you like that so close to him without knowing why.

He knocks on the door softly. “Hey! Poppy told me you were here, are you okay? I have your umbrella.” His heart is beating so fast, he’s not sure he can get through this if you aren’t fine. If something happened to you… He feels murderous for the first time in his life just thinking about it. He would kill whoever hurt you.

Reader

You wake up a bit earlier than you usually do on your days off. It’s the day after the tail pulling incident, and after thinking long and hard about it, and feeling incredibly bad because Ambrose seemed really off after it, you decide to bring him some kind of present to apologize. You don’t know why you even listened to Brick, he’s always up to some bad ideas and you should’ve known better than to listen to him.

So you grabbed your umbrella to protect you from the sun and you walked to the nearest art store. The girl working there is always so nice that you end up buying more than you need every time, and this trip is no different. You get some of Ambrose’s favorite colored pencils and end up buying some more for yourself. Your day is bright and joyful so far, and it’s only going to get better after you see Ambrose, you can feel it already.

You walk to the parlor with a pep to your step, feeling the warmth in the air even with your black clothes and umbrella, but it’s weirdly comforting. You’re happy just thinking about seeing him today. You weren’t planning on stopping by, but the excuse is perfect for you to get there and spend some time with him…

Maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll show you some of his art! He’s always refused before, only showing you half-assed pieces he did on throw-away papers. He’s never shown you his sketchbook, he always guards it like it’s his most prized possession and you can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want him to see yours either. But that’s because of different reasons.

It’s not your fault that he’s so pretty that you itch to draw him every chance you get, you have so many sketches of him that you’re sure it would be beyond embarrassing to show him. Also, how the fuck would you explain it to him? It would be a top tier awkward moment- that’s the only reason you don’t press him to show you his own. You don’t know what he has in there, maybe nude sketches, or something kinky…?

Maybe he sketches feet. Maybe he has a foot fetish. You aren’t one for that, but you’d be into it if he’s into it. You’d be into anything he’s into because you’d do anything to suck his cock, let’s be real.

You’re bashfully giggling to yourself when you walk past the bakery next door to the tattoo parlor before you stop abruptly. You can see Ambrose sitting at a cozy table with a girl. He’s laughing as he bites into a monster-sized muffin and licks his lips. The girl is chatting animatedly and making him laugh again, and you can feel your heart slowly sinking.

You slowly lower your umbrella to the ground and the burning sensation of the sun hitting your skin starts making you feel as bad on the outside as you’re starting to feel from the inside. The sinking feeling deepens as you continue staring through the window, seeing your crush chatting over cutely wrapped muffins with another woman.

She’s gorgeous, too… Deep ivory skin and a fluffy afro styled with a blow out, a pretty apron covering her colorful outfit. She looks so much livelier than you- you’re pale and tired and always wearing black like the soft goth girl you are. Her, though… She looks happy, and joyful, and so many things that don’t represent you, but fit so well with Ambrose’s personality. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t show you his sketchbook, maybe it’s full of art of her.

Your heart’s beating so fast you’re almost worried that you're having a major anxiety attack, or that you’ll faint because of how hard it’s hitting your rib-cage. Maybe when you wake up in the morning there’ll be a heart shaped bruise on your chest because of it. It seems fitting, a mark of how badly you’re hurting right now. You know you don’t have any kind of claim on him, you know that… But it feels bad all the same. The pain you’re feeling right now is like nothing you’ve experienced before. You don’t understand why it even hurts that bad. Sure, you might be in love with him, but it isn’t like he’s yours.

You can almost feel your heart shattering in slow motion as you abandon your umbrella and run to the tattoo parlor right next door. You don’t even say anything to Poppy as you drop the gift on top of the counter and wave your hand at her behind you.

“Hey! I thought vampires burned under the sun,” she jokes, but shuts up when she sees your face. “What happened? Are you okay?” She seems worried, and you appreciate having her as your friend, but right now you can’t stop.

You don’t want tostop to talk to her because you know you’re going to cry and you can’t allow that. You’ll have to explain to her that you’re in love with Ambrose, and then she would have to tell him because he’s her best friend and… You can’t. You need to catch your breath and calm down.

You’re almost tempted to run back outside and to your house, but you don’t think you can make it that far before breaking down. Plus, you still have a little bit of your self preservation instincts left, and you know running back to your house would cause a lot of damage to you due to your allergy. So, hiding in the bathroom is the best idea right now. You’ll get yourself together, catch a breath, calm down, and walk out as if nothing happened. Yep, that’s the best idea.

So you run to the back, where you know the bathroom is, closing the door behind you before you fall to the ground and curl over yourself in a crouching position as you start to muffle a cry. It’s an ugly, silent sobbing that makes your insides squeeze so hard your lungs burn, leaving you breathless. You allowed yourself a minute of silently crying before wetting a paper towel and wiping your eyes, taking in shaky deep breaths. You couldn't just allow yourself to become a complete mess in the parlor’s bathroom, that would be embarrassing- and not in a hot way, either. You’re trying to compartmentalize, but the key words there are really “trying to.”

It doesn’t take long before you can hear voices in the parlor and the telltale sign of minotaur hooves approaching the bathroom. You’re breathing a bit better, and you think you can face Ambrose without looking too pathetic. Or at least you hope as much.

There’s a soft knock on the door and you take another deep breath when you hear Ambrose’s muffled voice. “Hey! Poppy told me you were here, are you okay? I have your umbrella.” You almost huff at the absurdity of the situation. He’s right there, so close and yet he feels so very far away.

You swallow around the knot in your throat and take another breath, your chest still hurting, but your breathing is slowing down. You wait a few seconds until you think your voice is going to sound almost normal: “Yes- um- Yeah. I’m fine.” It comes out choked, and you curse yourself internally.

“Do you need something? I can grab whatever you need- a tampon, a pad… I’m… Whatever’s happening I can fix it.” He sounds so sure that it makes your heart warm around the pain. He’s not at fault in any of this, you can’t be mad at him. He was just having a snack with a beautiful woman that’s nothing like you and you… you’re just heartbroken. You’re berating yourself, asking yourself why you ever thought someone as amazing as him wasn't taken already, moreover why someone as amazing and perfect as him would go for you.

You open the door with tear stains on your cheeks, but if Ambrose sees them he doesn't point them out. You thank him internally for it as you wipe your cheeks off with the wet cloth from earlier. You repeat a short: “I’m fine. Just some family drama,” you lie. It sounds fake even to your own ears.

He doesn’t point that out either, and you take another calming breath, looking to the ground. You can’t look at him without remembering how handsome he looked laughing at the bakery… with another woman. Another woman who might be his girlfriend.

“Why are you here? I thought you couldn’t stop by today,” he finally breaks the awkward silence between the two of you.

You swallow your hurt and explain. “I came to apologize for the tail pulling stunt yesterday, it was stupid of me to listen to Brick.” Your self-deprecating tone makes your heart squeeze again, but you ignore it. You’re getting pretty good at ignoring what your heart tells you.

“It’s okay, I handled it,” he says with a tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips.

You don’t want to ask, you really try not to, but you end up doing it anyway: “What? How?” He pushes your head up to look at his face with a finger, making your insides twitch with longing.

“Remember how I told you he fucked up with his mate the first time they met?” You nod, blinking slowly, and he continues. “Well, his mate is the baker next door and I went to have muffins with her as payback. That’s why he’s looking so sour out there.”

Mate.

Brick’s mate.

The baker is Brick’s mate and Ambrose was just getting payback on Brick. The relief fills your body like a cold caress of water on a hot day. Your body feels almost ethereal, and you have to look down to check that you aren’t floating because of how happy and relieved you are.

Then, out of nowhere, you burst out laughing, all the tension in your body dissipating as you launch yourself at him and hug his middle. He’s too stunned to say anything, but he wraps his arms over your shoulders and squeezes you. You sigh happily, feeling stupid for assuming the worst.

“I brought you a present,” your voice is muffled against his shirt and he huffs bemusedly over your head.

“You did?” He asks, rubbing calming patterns against your back.

Fuck, he smells so good. You rub your face against his shirt before realizing what you are doing, pulling back, completely flustered as he smiles down at you.

“Yeah, Poppy has it.” You respond, trying to calm your racing heart, this time because of embarrassment after basically huffing him like a dog. “Wanna open it?”

“Are you hanging out?” He asks instead of responding.

You nod, and the smile that breaks open in his face is as bright as looking directly at the sun, and it hurts almost the same because you still know you can’t have him to yourself.

All previous stories can be found in this masterlist.

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deansdelicate · 1 year ago

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we might just get away with it

dean ambrose x fem!reader

word count: [4.7k]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing & sexual innuendos, in ring action (reader is a female superstar), overall two idiots being fluffy and in love <3

summary: the four times you and dean thought you were doing a good job at keeping your relationship under wraps + the one time you both ended up getting away with it.

The camera crew found themselves huddled in the narrow corridor of the arena, a likely place for them to be seeing as though The Authority loved to handle business backstage—but of course not without protection from the forces none other than The Shield.

The three men were already inside on their marks, probably talking amongst themselves with Steph and Hunter while you waited outside, preparing for your cue.

“We’re on in 30 seconds!” a stage hand announced, meticulously checking the stop watch and monitors, ensuring the cameras were in position and ready to roll once commercial break ended.

You bounced from foot to foot, getting yourself ready as time winded down. Glancing over at the crew who gave you a thumbs up, mouthing the final 10 seconds until the show was back on air.

“Action!”

Your fist came in contact with the door, pausing for a couple of seconds before hearing a voice say “come in” from the other side. The cameras followed as you twisted the handle, stepping into the ‘office’ and bringing the boys and bosses into the audience’s view.

The boys kept to themselves on the opposite end of the room, hardened gazes glued to their faces as they stared you down.

You rose your brows at the slightly, portraying your repulsion for the faction and their allegiance to the overbearing bosses. After a brief moment, you turned your attention to Stephanie and Hunter.

“Is there something we can do for you today?” Stephanie looked up from her laptop, shutting it with a sharp slap that made you flinch just a tad.

You shook it off, taking a deep breath before you spoke with the most confidence you could muster.

“I want a shot at the championship.”

Upon hearing your demand, Triple H even looked up from his own laptop, staring at you intently before turning to his wife. The two of them letting out strings of condescending laughter that had you furrowing your brows in annoyance.

“I love the confidence sweetheart, but I think you’ve forgotten how it works around here.” He smirked, bringing his clasped hands up to rest on the wooden desk.

“You can’t just barge into our office and demand a match for the title,” Steph started with a shake of her head.

“We’ve got bigger things to handle and maybe when you start acting like champion material then we can have a talk about a title opportunity.”

She wore that signature evil smirk, your jaw clenching as your rigid hands formed into fists at your sides.

“You bitc—”

Before you could swing, a set of hands wrapped around your waist and another grabbed your wrists, stopping them from crossing the distance to Steph’s cheek. You could feel them behind you, the three of them swarming in too close, making the already cramped room feel claustrophobic.

“Let’s not do anything rash, sweet thing.”

A voice spoke low, breath fanning down your neck sending shivers up your spine, leaving you frozen.

Yet you remained cool, your game face still on as Hunter stood up, shielding his shaken up wife.

“Get her out of here,” He demanded, pointing the boys to the door and scowling at you.

“I’m gonna get my match one way or another!”

You struggled and jerked in their holds, needing to be practically dragged across the room to where Roman held the door wide open.

Seth’s hold on your wrists retracted, pushing you out into the halls, but the pair of hands on your waist that belonged to none other than Dean Ambrose remained, not daring to let you go just yet.

His fingertips dug into the dough of your hips, curbing your fight and forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Next time you pull some crap like that, we won’t be so nice.” He murmured lowly, the two of you boring right through each other.

You scoffed, tongue running across your teeth before tilting your head at him, not making any move to remove his hands from your skin.

“That so? What are you gonna do about it? Power bomb me through a table? C’mon…hit me.” You dared, jutting your chin out though he retract.

Seth and Roman let out guffaws not phased at all, and Dean joined them a few seconds later, shaking their heads at how you managed to be standing in their presence without facing retaliation.

“The Authority and The Shield stand for the same thing: Justice. And whoever defies justice, man or woman, will get what’s coming to them sooner or later.” Seth declared.

You shifted your eyes up to his, “You mean The Authority made The Shield their bitch and now they do their dirty work for them?” You snapped back harshly, watching their faces fall with rage.

Roman grunted something under his breath, shooing you off. “Run along, you don’t want problems with The Shield.”

Dean laughed, squeezing your hips again, though the cameras didn’t catch it, your eyes drifting to meet his.

“What’re you gonna do? Send a little boy toy to get your justice for you?” He mocked.

You rolled your eyes before a small smirk came onto your face. Your eyes looking down between you both an innuendo that all the fans in the building laughed and hooted at.

“Trust me, you and I both know the boys I like are far from little.”

You roughly shoved his arms off of you and walked out of view while the camera panned to the boys peering down your path.

“Cut!” The stage hand called out, already getting the crew out of the tiny space in order to head to the next segment.

You waited patiently off to the side, passing each of the crew members a smile and ‘thank you’ before you skipped back over to the office where the boys stuck around.

“You idiot!” You screeched, drawing a weak fist to Dean’s chest as he snickered and wrapped his arms around your back, drawing you into him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” He shrugged, placing a chaste peck onto your lips, letting you kiss him despite some more not caring about the obvious lipstick marks left behind.

“Off script? Really, you two?” Steph crept up from behind, letting out a laugh despite trying to be serious because even she and her husband were notorious for doing the same back in the day.

Roman shook his head, light heartedly at you two. “I really thought I missed a line in the script.” He admitted, while everyone shared a laugh.

“Is that even PG?” Seth speculated, knowing Vince would have their heads on platters because you and Dean couldn’t help yourselves with a little sexual repartee.

Hunter snorted shifting his palm side to side knowing at the very least it could get flagged with a warning from the network, but it would definitely serve some entertainment from the fans and social media.

“You know one day the fans are going to catch on that this is really a thing.” He gestured between you and Dean’s bodies, the two of you still clinging to each other closely.

You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him with a glint in your eyes that he returned just as passionately.

“We might just get away with it.”

Meet and greets were one of the more relaxing sides to the job and it was even better that you got to do it with your boyfriend sitting just a few chairs down.

Many fans, ranging of all ages took their time, greeting you with smiles, hugs, and funny stories, wishing you luck for a title match and you secretly knew was in the works.

A little girl approached you, her parents waving at you excitedly while they trailed behind her with a camera in hand making sure to document the moment their daughter got to meet her favorite wrestler. She sported your merch, alongside a title belt across her waist—the same one you were gunning after.

“You should’ve slapped Dean for not getting his hands off you!” she quipped instantly, hands on her hips, clearly disapproving of Dean’s behavior.

You bursted into a fit of laughter as did the other superstars around you, who high-fived the young gal, applauding her about the lesson Dean Ambrose needed to learn for messing with you. Being a baby face meant kids were especially protective of their favorites, and not wanting them to be tormented by ruthless heels.

“I really should have done that! I’ll remember for next time, okay?” You promised with a giggle, bending down to give her a warm hug.

She undid the belt around her waist, flipping it over so you could sign it. The two of you exchanging small talk before a familiar voice snuck in from behind you, prompting you both to shift your attention to the man himself.

“Hey! You planning on slapping me?” Dean declared, arms crossed over his chest defensively as Seth and Roman remained at his sides.

“Yeah! Don’t touch her again or else she’s going to slap you!”

The girl stood her ground, standing up straighter and glaring harshly at your boyfriend who played along, patting his cheek with a smirk.

“I don’t think she’d risk beating up a pretty face like mine,” he teased, looking over at you with a knowing smile that only you two could read into.

You grinned through the blush covering your cheeks, shaking your head, before pointing at the fan.

“I mean I couldn’t possibly ruin a pretty face like his, but maybe you could?” You suggested, watching as her jaw dropped.

“You mean I slap Dean?” She whispered in your ear, looking at you with hesitation.

You nodded assuringly, rubbing her shoulders like you were getting her pumped up for a fight.

“Yeah c’mon show him that no one messes with the future women’s champion.”

You hyped her up and soon all the superstars joined in chanting “slap him! slap him!”

Dean did his best to hold back a smile, getting down on his knees so that the girl could reach him. His arms spread wide, nodding and egging her on.

“You won’t hit me. Come on, I know you won’t—Oww!”

The slap was tame, even for a child, just a tap with a little force behind it. Instantly the girl cowered back, wrapping her arms around your frame hugging you closely as all the superstars and awaiting fans cheered her on for standing up for you.

“Way to go!” you praised, giving her a high-five and telling her how much she’d be a great wrestler in the future, maybe even the one to take the championship from you.

Eventually Dean slightly broke kayfabe, fist-bumping the girl and pinky promising that he wouldn’t put his hands on you again. All three men posed for a picture with her, frightened and panicky expressions on their faces as the girl held up a mighty fist.

She even got you and Dean to smile for a picture with her—and somehow no one noticed the dainty “D” initial that hung from the chain around your neck.

You sat in catering, joined by Naomi and Brie, the three of you catching up on life while tuning in to the match that played over the television. It was Seth versus Daniel, with Roman and Dean who got the chance to sit in on commentary for the night.

“I saw that interaction you and Dean had with that cute fan. You guys totally made her day.” Naomi grinned, noting how the little stunt you and Dean pulled was circulating around social media.

It was met with mostly positive lighthearted reactions that somehow didn’t revolve around the rumors that you were together in real life.

“Oh, she was adorable! I just wished she slapped Dean a little harder.” You shrieked, making the girls laugh thinking of how much fun this girl must have had.

Michael Cole’s voice drew your attention back to the TV.

“Dean last week you and the boys got into some stuff backstage with a certain female superstar. I suppose The Authority has you all on high alert after Steph nearly got attacked on your watch.”

The camera panned slightly to the commentators’ desk, where Dean’s fingertips tapped against his collarbones, seemingly forgetting the match in front of him at the mention of you.

“We’re used to threats of all kinds, but usually they aren’t this pretty or alluring. And she’s feisty, I’ll tell you that much, but I doubt she’ll want to mess with The Authority as long as The Shield is around,” he replied smugly, glancing over at Roman who nodded in agreement.

“She’s also got quite the smile, if you ask me! She’s drop-dead gorgeous,” The King, Jerry Lawler, jumped into the conversation, adding a whistle for good measure.

Dean’s face twisted in distaste as he shook his head at the legend, “Jeez, relax, would you, King? I’m sure she’s into the younger, more charming kinda guys—you know, piercing blue eyes, killer body, top-notch sense of humor?”

“Are you insinuating that—”

“What Dean means is that we’re not letting her distract us. In fact, she’s history from here on out.” Roman cut in.

Interrupting Cole from finishing his sentence that was sure to get Dean in hot water for making the entire match about his in real-life girlfriend whom he was irrevocably in love with.

The girls beside you whistled and giggled like middle-schoolers, knocking their elbows into your shoulders, knowing your boyfriend couldn’t help but get a little jealous even if it was just all for fun—what could you say? Your boyfriend was more than a little protective.

“Oh, he’s obsessed with you!” Brie teased, while you hung your head low, masking your blush behind your hair.

“What he is going to be is fired if he keeps it up.” You groaned half-jokingly, raising your head when you heard the bell ring and their theme song hit.

Roman and Dean slid into the ring, lifting their brother’s arm up in victory and celebrating together before retreating backstage through the crowd. But of course Dean couldn’t miss a poster with your name written across it, smirking at the fan who wore your merch and giving his nod of approval for support.

You quickly said goodbye to the girls, tossing your plate of food into the bins and heading towards the corridor where you knew they would be coming in from. When you arrived, they just so happened to get through the doors, arena security guards shaking their hands and posing for a quick picture and then heading off.

“Really? You know being on commentary means you comment on the match in front of you? Not your girlfriend.”

You crossed your arms across your chest, leaning against the walls as you gawked feigning exasperation.

Roman and Seth snickered, swinging their heads and heading off towards the carts to recuperate, letting you and Dean have your usual banter that turned into a love fest all too fast.

“Is there something going on between you and Jerry? Because I might just put him out of retirement.” He made his way towards you, lifting a speculating brow.

You let your arms fall across his waist, a cheeky smile seeping on to your features at the thought of him truly being jealous over Jerry Lawler, of all people. Yet you didn’t hesitate to iron out his worries, staring up at him fondly.

“It’s an honor to be one of his favorite female superstars, but I can assure you it’s all one sided. My sights are strictly set on a more younger, charming guy with piercing blue eyes and an impeccable sense of humor.”

You chided, poking at his cheek, watching the dimples form when he tried to hold back his smile.

“Some might even say good with the ladies?” He added with a wiggle of his brows while you threw your head back and laughed, pushing at his chest.

“Yeah, right. I’m the only lady he’s good with.”

He nodded in agreement, pulling you closer and placing a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get out of here before I do something else that gets me in trouble.”

You linked your fingers with his, the two of you strolling back towards the main area of the arena out of the public space.

As you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, a few fans who were taking bathroom and concession stand breaks caught sight of your backs. However, they didn’t recognize you out of your wrestling attire—curiously wondering who was the mystery lady was.

Dean watched the monitors intently, his knee bouncing up and down anxiously from where he was sitting in gorilla position tuning into your championship contender match against Nikki. The final minutes were winding down, and Brie had already been ejected, sent backstage after the ref caught her trying to aid her twin in the match.

“That’s my girl!” he clapped loud, standing up as you hit your finisher and got the pin—the rest of gorilla cheering for you, knowing it was a long time coming.

You hadn’t told him the outcome of the match, and no matter how hard he tried to get it out of you, it was all worth it seeing you celebrate and get one step closer to your first championship run. When you made it up the ramp and back through the curtain, you were instantly lifted off your feet, your arms clinging around his frame before being smothered in congratulatory kisses.

“I knew you were gonna win it.” He told you, setting you down and tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“I think I deserve a celebration tonight, don’t you?” You whispered secretly just for the two of you to hear, both of you sharing grins before he nodded, and placed a kiss on your lips.

“I say we get our segment over with, then get out of here?” He proposed, already hearing the stage hand calling out for the two of you to get into positions backstage.

“I’d like that a lot.” You agreed, taking his hand to where a stagehand was guiding you through the short segment.

Seth, Roman and Steph were already on their marks, greeting you with hugs and salutes before needing to step out of view while the cameras set up. They would be close behind Steph, acting as her personal security personnel for when she confronted you about your match on Sunday.

“Action!”

“Well, well, well,” Stephanie clapped her hands slowly, approaching you where you sat on the carts, icing your shoulder, “Congratulations on being the number one contender for the women’s championship, I guess you are champion material after all.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, grimacing at the strain in your shoulder before standing up to face her.

“Save it, Stephanie, and cut to the chase. What’s the catch? I know you wouldn’t make it this easy for me to get what I want.”

She frowned deceptively, “Do you really think I’m that cruel?” she glanced behind her, questioning the boys, “Can you guys believe that?”

They sneered at you, shaking their heads before Steph turned her attention back to you with a heavy sigh that always meant bad news.

“I’ll have you know that I always knew that you could do it, you just needed someone to light that fire underneath you. And I’m sure you’ll get the job done this Sunday. But just to be very sure, I think The Shield wouldn’t mind a front-row seat at your championship match.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at her, “I don’t need them causing distractions.”

Dean snorted, gesturing to himself in a self-absorbed manner, “I’m flattered sweetheart, I really am, but your attention really should be on winning.”

You turned your nose up at him, looking the other way “Oh please, don’t let it get to your head Ambrose, you disgust me on many levels.”

Steph clapped her hands, looking at the faction, then back at you.

“Well, it’s settled. The Shield will be ringside for your championship match on Sunday. And I’ll be tuning in…champ.”

With that, she strutted away, leaving you and the boys behind with the camera still focused on you four.

“Stay out of my way,” you growled, eyeing each one of them down threateningly, not wanting your one championship opportunity to be at risk.

“Don’t worry about us.” Roman shook his head, walking off first.

“Wouldn’t want to let that championship slip from right under you.” Seth cackled manically, rubbing his hands together and following suit.

Only you and Dean remained, but this time instead of words being spoken aloud for everyone else to hear, his hands came up to cup around your ear, whispering words only two would ever know.

“I’ll be cheering you on. You know I always am. And you looked sexy out there, by the way.”

He backed off with a wink, leaving you flushed despite trying to play it off as hatred.

The crowd could only wonder what Dean had said to you, and it seemed like Cole and Jerry were just as curious, speaking over commentary about some ideas. Shortly after, the cameras cut, and once again, you were lifted off your feet, Dean hoisting you up a few inches off the ground to give you a proper hug after being rushed in gorilla.

“Congrats again, and don’t forget to go over the script changes!” Stephanie reminded, smiling as she waved goodbye to you and Dean, knowing you two would be pleasantly happy with creative’s turn on the storyline.

Dean raised an eyebrow, calling out to her “Script changes?”

Stephanie grinned, looking over her shoulder towards the both of you. “Just a little tweak for the next show. You’ll like it a lot.”

As she walked away, you and Dean exchanged curious glances not knowing what the script change could be on such short notice.

“Guess we better check those out,” you shrugged tossing the melted ice pack into a nearby trash bin.

He nodded, his hand finding yours again running his fingertips across your knuckles, leaning down to murmur against your lips.

“Yeah, but first, let’s get out of here and celebrate your win. And I meant what I said earlier…you look pretty damn sexy.”

“Lead the way, baby.” You leaned in, letting your lips brush his gingerly, a lingering kiss remaining until you were left to worship the rest of it in privacy.

“Get up, AJ!” you screamed, yanking her up by the hair and throwing her down into one of the corners of the ring.

Your boot met her midsection repeatedly until the ref pulled you back, giving her a moment to catch her breath while you and the official exchanged some words in the meantime.

The Shield boys kept to themselves, spread out on all three sides of the ring, keeping an eye on the entire match and most importantly, you.

To be quite honest, it was hard for Dean to hold back on his excitement, his tongue practically bruised from biting down on it, trying not to break out of character and into smiles or cheers when you got the upper hand in the match.

They were anxiously waiting for their cue; you picking AJ back up and throwing her towards the center of the ring, ready to go for your finisher. That’s when they got into positions, teetering up on the apron grabbing onto the ropes as if they were stalking their way in.

“What the hell is The Shield doing, Cole?” Jerry questioned, his voice filled with concern.

“I have no clue, but it can’t be good. We have to assume, ladies and gentleman, that Stephanie McMahon put them up to this,” Cole proposed.

You took notice of the men involving themselves in the biggest match of your life, brows pulled together in anger and frustration.

“Hey! What the hell is wrong with you guys?” You shouted, turning your attention to the boys who were now standing on the apron, sights set on you.

You walked towards Dean, and the ref headed towards Roman and Seth signaling for them to get down.

“Leave me the hell alone” You seethed, coming face to face with Dean. The only thing separating the both of you were the ring ropes.

“I know you like it.” He gloated, arms held wide, earning boos from the crowd.

You shook your head, turning away slightly only for the palm of your hand to meet his cheek with a harsh slap a few seconds later.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Dean pinched his eyes shut, shaking off the sting in his skin, putting on a cocky sneer that quickly had you angered again. You kept an eye on the titantron in front of you, aware that AJ would be coming in any second to catch you off guard, which was all a part of the finish.

Seth and Roman hopped back down onto the floor, while Dean took notice of AJ sprinting behind you. His arms shoving you out harm’s way in order to take the hit. Her legs knocking him to the floor, while she fell to the mat, unaware that you had backed into one of the corners, shocked at Dean’s sacrifice, but none the less not wasting time.

You quickly got to your feet, delivering a super-kick to her jaw before lifting her body into position for your finisher and hitting it in the center of the ring. You hurried into the pin, locking her legs and arm as the ref counted.

“1, 2, 3…ring the bell!”

Surprise and shock covered your features, your hands covering your face as you tried to hold back tears for backstage while the ref walked over to retrieve your title. AJ rolled out of the ring, giving you your moment to savor as the championship was placed in your arms and your theme song blasted through the sold-out arena.

You forced yourself off your knees, thrusting the championship high up in the air, gaining cheers and applauses from the audience who were on their feet. You swore you could jump into your boyfriend’s arms right then and there without a care in the world about scripts and keeping up the act—but you knew it’d all be worth it.

Seth, Roman, and Dean hopped back onto the apron, this time not faltering on letting themselves through the ropes, stalking their way towards you as your theme song suddenly got cut and the ref scrambled out towards safety.

“Uh oh, is The Shield going to spoil the best night of her WWE career?” Cole speculated.

“I hope not. The last thing we need is the new WWE women’s champ being put out of action all because of these three men.” Jerry added.

You swallowed thickly, clutching the championship to your chest, looking left and right for a way out that was impossible at this point. There was nowhere left for you to go, the crowd anxiously awaiting to see what was going to happen next.

Dean’s fingertips hovered over your face, clutching your skin delicately and forcing you to meet his orbs. You looked stunned, about to break in terror until suddenly a wide smile emerged across your features.

“Oh, my god! What the hell is going on?” The commentators cried out disturbingly.

Seth and Roman stepped back with laugher rumbling in their chests, clapping and pointing at the both of you as if they had known the real story all along.

Meanwhile, Dean closed the space between your lips, pulling you into a fervent kiss taking everyone aback. Your lips moved together in tandem, like they always did behind the scenes where no one had a clue you were flying right under their noses.

You both pulled away, smiling widely at each other, before he gestured towards you, reaching to grab your wrists and lifting it high up in the air, your theme song hitting once more, this time the crowd torn between cheers and boos.

Dean held you close, his pride evident in his eyes letting everything around him turning into white noise.

“My girl. My champ.” he whispered, speaking to you like you were the only ones in the world in that very moment.

You looked up at him, closing your eyes in bliss, before mouthing the words.

“We got away with it.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: hi everyone!!! this is my first imagine/one-shot here on tumblr and im excited to be getting back into my wwe era. it's always fun revisiting my loves (aka: dean, roman, and seth), and i can't wait to mesh some stories with my fave taylor tracks. this one is loosely based off false god hehehe.

#wwe imagine #wwe oneshot #wwe x reader #dean ambrose x reader #dean ambrose x fem!reader #dean ambrose oneshot #dean ambrose imagine #dean ambrose smut #dean ambrose #seth rollins x reader #seth rollins imagine #roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #wwe #wwe x taylor swift #dean ambrose x taylor swift

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eringobragh420 · 9 months ago

Text

➺ all of my works feature female characters/readers.

➺ requests closed. if you want to be tagged when requests open, please comment on this post. ➺ already requested.

➺ MASTERLIST

➺ anal. ➺ strap on. ➺ cnc (featuring Damian Priest) ➺ pregnancy. ➺ a/b/o dynamics. ➺ slavery (willing). ➺ daddy kink. (featuring Bron Breakker) ➺ cock worship. ➺ biting. ➺ striptease. ➺ cheating. (featuring Roman Reigns) ➺ muscle worship. (featuring Gunther) ➺ begging. (featuring Jon Moxley) ➺ spanking. ➺ high/drunk sex. ➺ dacryphilia. ➺ car sex. ➺ virginity. ➺ voyeurism. ➺ tattoos. ➺ brat-taming. (featuring Jey Uso) ➺ tied-up/rest rained. ➺ power imbalance. ➺ degradation. ➺ spitting. ➺ praise. ➺ impact play. ➺ dumbification. (featuring Tiffany Stratton) ➺ keeping quiet. ➺ cuckholding. ➺ size kink. (featuring Bron Breakker) ➺ face-sitting. ➺ on someone else's bed. ➺ fingering/handjob at family gathering. ➺ church. (featuring Jey Uso) ➺ bdsm. ➺ sir kink. ➺ facials. ➺ fight sex. ➺ blackmail. ➺ age gap/play [over 21] ➺ hair-pulling. ➺ acarophilia. (featuring Seth Rollins) ➺ panty-sniffing. (featuring Dexter Lumis) ➺ partner swap. ➺ vicarphilia. ➺ pet play. ➺ titty-fuck. ➺ corruption. ➺ requester's choice. (featuring Damian Priest)

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graveyardhorror · 8 months ago

Text

HOW HE PROTECTS YOU

>SUPERSTARS MASTERLIST

➽────────────────────❥

DEAN AMBROSE/JON MOXLEY

-He's like a watchdog, always looking out for any potential dangers

-He takes pride in being able to keep you safe from any possible threat, from to verbal to physical trust that he is very much capable

ROMAN REIGNS

-Another watchdog, are we surprised? no, will never let anything/one hurt you

-The type of boyfriend to always put your safety and comfort above his own, just let him know your uncomfortable and he'll take care of it

SETH ROLLINS

-Never afraid to stand up for you or a complete stranger, kind and compassionate

-He is someone who always does what is right, he will definitely treat you well and ensure you feel safe at all times

RANDY ORTON

-Very loudly and proudly a protector, he knows boundaries and enforces them

-Your boundaries will always be respected when he's around, helps you stand up for yourself and be more confident

FINN BALOR

-Has great intuition and somehow always knows when there is potential danger around

-The amount of times he's gotten you out of uncomfortable/ unwanted situations before they escalated is high, he's always there to protect you

NEVILLE/PAC

-Very confident in his ability to keep you safe, always calm

-You now have scary dog privileges lol, he tends to act as a shield for unwanted advances, scary situations and he's happy to help keep you safe

➽────────────────────❥

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ellswritings · 5 days ago

Note

Hiii I was wondering if you could do a Cody Rhodes x reader with the backstory being that reader was like the only female member of shield. And her and Cody Rhodes had a flirty storyline together and the rest of the shield are kinda “protective�� over here. and it evolves into something more outside of work please. If you want to add smut that is perfectly fine with me. Please and thank you 💜

My Favorite Plot Twist

Cody Rhodes (Runnels) x reader

TW: Reader is a bit prickly. Damien Sandow says something derogatory about reader. The Shield boys are literally guard dogs. Also, I’m sorry this took me twenty years to write

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Y/N sits in the Shields designated locker room, wrapping her hands tightly as she prepares for her match later that night. The boys were running late, as expected. She got used to arriving first out of the four of them. Being the only girl in the faction is pretty much the equivalent to being the keeper of the group. She booked the hotel for them, she found the places to eat, made sure they were up at a reasonable time, but the only thing she couldn’t manage to do was make them on time.

Sweat clung to her collarbone despite the AC humming somewhere above. It was the usual quiet before the storm — or, in her case, before three oversized brothers came barreling in like a stampede. She barely had time to flex her taped knuckles before the door banged open. Colby Lopez — Seth Rollins to everyone else — swaggered in like he owned the building, duffel bouncing off his hip, hair still damp from the shower.

“Well, well, Captain, I’m officially ready to carry our asses for the night.” He plopped down next to her, too close, as always. He peered at her wrap job and clicked his tongue. “Too tight. Gimme your hand.”

She rolled her eyes, half-shoving him. “Back off, Lopez. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, I know you do — that’s what terrifies me.” He winked, then reached anyway, redoing the final loop on her thumb.

The next in was Joe — Roman Reigns — phone in hand, earbuds dangling from around his neck. He took one look at the two and snorted, voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You two married yet, or what?”

Seth fired back, deadpan: “She couldn’t handle all this full-time.”

Y/N elbowed him so hard in the ribs he nearly toppled off the bench. Joe let out a deep, amused laugh — his version of a belly laugh — then set down his bag with a controlled thud. “Ambrose?” he asked, glancing around.

“Probably yelling at someone for stealing his rental spot again.” Y/N took a swig of water, eyeing the door like it owed her money.

Right on cue, it banged open a second time — Jonathan Good, half-dressed as Dean Ambrose, sweat dripping off him, eyes lit up with that reckless glint that meant trouble. “Hey, sweetheart.” He pressed a cold bottle of water to her cheek, ignoring her annoyed squeal. “You miss me?”

“I miss my sanity. Put on a damn shirt, Jon.”

He shrugged, ruffling her hair with a grin. “Don’t hold your breath.”

The four of them finished getting ready, their segment being one of the earlier ones for the night. They walked out of the locker room, stuck in their own little world with one another. The four of them moved as they always did: tight formation, quiet murmurs under the hum of rolling crates and distant crowd noise. Seth needled Jon about last night’s bar tab. Joe half-listened, mostly keeping one big arm ready in case his brothers started throwing hands early. Y/N stayed tucked between them — not because she needed protecting, but because it shut up the creeps who stared too long when she walked alone. As they rounded a bend near Gorilla, they almost ran straight into Cody Rhodes and Damien Sandow, who were deep in conversation. Cody caught her eyes first — a flicker of something old and cocky danced there.

Sandow sneered the second his eyes flicked to her. He raised a mocking brow. “Well, if it isn’t The Shield and their little— what’s the word— mascot.”

Colby bristled. Joe’s jaw flexed. Jon outright stopped dead, turning his full body toward Sandow.

“Come again?” Jon’s tone dropped so low, even a camera guy passing by paused mid-step.

Sandow crossed his arms, smug. “You heard me. Thought the big boys liked to fight their own battles, but maybe they just need a pretty distraction to stay relevant.”

Y/N’s spine snapped straight. She opened her mouth— but Jon was faster. He lunged so quick that Cody had to shove Sandow back to avoid getting clocked too. “Hey— HEY!” Cody stepped between Jon and Sandow, shoving his hand at Jon’s chest. “Easy, Good. He’s a mouthy bastard but you know the suits’ll fine you if you smash his face in back here.”

Jon snarled back, “Fine me then. I’ll pay in cash, right now—”

Joe grabbed Jon’s collar, Seth crowded closer to Cody, and in the middle of the swirl stood Y/N, hands braced on Jon’s shoulder trying to keep him from murder. Cody leaned closer to her while the guys postured. His voice dropped, almost gentle, that faint grin curving his mouth. “You really oughta leash your watchdogs, sweetheart. One of these days they’re gonna bite the wrong throat.”

She snapped her eyes to him, voice low but slicing. “Careful, Rhodes. Might start with yours.”

Something in his grin tightened — a flash of heat, of amusement, something she didn’t have time to read because Sandow piped up behind him, “She talks tough for a mascot—”

This time Colby didn’t wait for Jon. He shoved Sandow so hard into a stack of road cases it rattled. Cody shoved Seth back — Jon lunged again — Joe barked a sharp ENOUGH that rattled the pipes overhead. Security spilled in seconds later, a chorus of “Break it up! Back it up!” filling the corridor. Cody still hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

“See you out there, Shield Girl,” he murmured, backing off with Sandow under an arm, his grin all trouble and promise and something else she wouldn’t name yet.

She wiped sweat from her brow and glared after him. Colby snorted beside her. “Someone’s got a crush on you.”

She flipped him off. “Shut up before I crush you.”

“I don’t think dirty talk is supposed to be that violent, Y/N/N,” Colby grins childishly.

Y/N moves to lunge at him but Jon grabs her and places her in between him and Joe. She might be considered the mature one in the friendship they’ve created, but that doesn’t mean she’s levelheaded on all fronts. Joe chuckles and nudges her shoulder. “C’mon, troublemaker. Let’s go remind ‘em why they don’t screw with The Shield.”

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The Shield’s heavy boots thudded on the plush carpet as they filed in — Jon first, shoulders rolled back like he might tackle the CEO himself; Colby trailing with a smirk he didn’t bother hiding; Joe looming behind them like an annoyed wall of muscle. Y/N drifted in last, arms folded tight over her chest, jaw set hard enough to crack.

Behind a huge oak desk sat Vince McMahon, in a pinstripe suit that probably cost more than her car. He didn’t look up right away — just scribbled something on a paper with more force than necessary. The air crackled, the boys shifting on their feet like guilty teenagers. Finally, Vince’s head snapped up, eyes locking on them with the force of a hurricane. “Do any of you have a clue how many sponsors I had to reassure tonight?” He slapped the desk for punctuation. “Do you?!”

Jon tilted his head, half-cocked grin already brewing. “I dunno, boss — how many do we have left after last time?”

Joe’s elbow discreetly slammed into his ribs. Jon grunted but stayed grinning. Vince pointed at him like an executioner. “You— zip it. All of you — overgrown dogs with no leash, tearing up my backstage like it’s a damned dive bar in Cincinnati—” He jabbed a finger at Colby. “And you! Egging him on!”

Colby shrugged, completely unbothered. “To be fair, Sandow asked for it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh for god’s sake, Vince—”

Vince’s voice boomed right over hers: “And you!” His eyes narrowed at her, but not with the same raw anger he leveled at the boys — more like a caged grin trying not to break through. “The little brain behind this group, I suppose you’re innocent in all this chaos?”

Y/N’s lips twitched. She clicked her tongue, feigning sweetness. “I tried to break it up. Blame your golden boy and his Shakespeare reject sidekick for running their mouths.”

Jon barked a laugh. “She’s not wrong.”

Vince slapped the desk again. “Shut up, Good!” He inhaled through his nose like he might burst a blood vessel, then exhaled slow — an old wolf reining in his bite.

“Listen to me, all of you: if you start one more brawl backstage — especially over petty, juvenile insults — I’ll have you each working dark matches in Des Moines for the rest of the year. Understood?”

Joe answered first, curt: “Understood, sir.”

Colby threw up two mocking thumbs. Jon just winked at Y/N like he was proud of her, and she smothered a laugh behind her hand. Vince glared at them all before jerking a thumb toward the door. “Out. All of you. Except her.”

The three heads snapped toward her in perfect unison. She shrugged at them, equally confused, but Jon leaned in to hiss dramatically, “If he tries to kiss ya, scream twice.”

“Get out, now!” Vince thundered, and Jon scuttled backward, cackling all the way out.

The door clicked shut and now Y/N stands alone.

Vince leaned back, hands folding over his chest, eyes settling on her with that predator’s glint he reserved for moments of genius — or trouble. “Sit.”

She perched on the edge of a chair, crossing one leg over the other, brows lifted. “What, you wanna lecture me solo now? Promise I’ll behave next time—”

He cut her off, voice lower now, conspiratorial. “You know, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know when lightning strikes twice in one corridor.”

She frowned. “...What are you talking about?”

Vince tapped a folder on his desk, pushing it slightly toward her. “I saw the security footage. You and Rhodes.”

Y/N’s entire spine stiffened, a flush creeping up her neck. “Oh hell no. If you’re about to pitch me some damsel crap—”

He chuckled — genuinely amused. “Quite the opposite. I’m pitching you something fresh. Fiery. Improvised. You’re interrupting Cody’s promo tonight. No one knows it but you and I — not him, not your boys, not creative.”

She scoffed, half rising from her seat. “Vince— no. I’m not babysitting Dusty’s spoiled son because Sandow can’t keep his teeth behind his lips. I’ve got my own match tonight—”

He raised a hand. The room went deathly still. “You do this — you get your match schedule as normal. You don’t…” He paused for effect, a shark’s grin creeping in. “You stand at ringside for the Shield. For a year. No matches. No singles push. No spotlight except the scraps those three give you.”

Y/N felt her pulse hammering at her temples. Her tongue was halfway to a retort she knew she couldn’t afford. Instead, she exhaled through her nose, the fight simmering to a cold, resigned flicker. “Fine,” she ground out. “I’ll interrupt his precious promo. But if he so much as winks at me—”

Vince barked a laugh, utterly pleased. “Good girl. Now get out there and make us a fortune.”

She stood up so fast her chair nearly toppled. “Yeah, yeah. But you owe me a main event after this, old man.” She slammed the door behind her so hard the security guard flinched.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Y/N stormed down the narrow hallway, the concrete echoing with each slam of her boots. Just ahead, Gorilla loomed — and through the thin curtain, she could already hear the opening swell of Cody Rhodes’ theme song pulsing through the arena. The crowd’s roar matched the pounding in her skull.

Behind her, a chorus of familiar voices rose like a thundercloud. “Hey — Y/N!” Colby’s voice cracked through the noise first, footsteps pounding as he sprinted to catch up. “Hold up a damn second!”

She didn’t break stride, just tightened her grip on the headset in her hand, knuckles whitening. Jon’s laugh — sharp and disbelieving — cut in next as he and Joe caught up, flanking her on either side like personal bodyguards ready to tear someone’s spine out. “You got that look — who do I have to knock out this time?”

Joe’s rumble was quieter but twice as dangerous. “Y/N. Talk. Now.”

She let out a tight, humorless snort, eyes locked dead ahead. “You three wanna know? Vince called us in. Read us the riot act for your genius little bar brawl. And now — surprise, surprise — guess who’s the lucky golden goose that gets a storyline with that smug prick out there?” She stabbed her thumb back toward Gorilla, where Cody’s voice was dripping over the live feed.

Colby nearly tripped over his own boots, eyes wide. “Rhodes?! You gotta be shitting me—”

Jon scoffed, voice climbing an octave. “No. Nah, hell no. Not him. Anyone but him. We’ll go back in right now — we’ll fix it. I’ll threaten Sandow’s neck again if I gotta—”

Joe leaned in, voice low, trying reason where Jon barked chaos. “What’s the angle? Romance? A match? What’s Vince pushing?”

She barked out a bitter laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth mockingly. “Oh, I don’t know, Joe — maybe Vince liked the brawl footage so much he thought, hey, let’s stir up some scandal — Shield girl versus the pretty boy! It’s bait for cheap headlines. And guess what — if I don’t do it? No matches. I’m just eye candy at ringside for the next year.”

Colby grabbed her elbow, tugging her to a sudden halt so hard Jon nearly slammed into her back. “Y/N. Listen to me. We know what he’s like. You’ve seen it. He’s a snake with a fancy smile and a shiny suit — he’ll twist this storyline, he’ll—”

She yanked her arm free, eyes blazing as she whirled on all three of them. They braced as if she might swing first. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see right through him? I do. Better than you ever will. But I also know I’m not about to sit on my ass for a year just because you three can’t keep your testosterone in check!”

Joe rumbled, slow and deliberate: “If he so much as looks at you wrong—”

She cut him off with a sharp laugh, jabbing her finger at his chest. “I’ll break his nose before you even blink, big man. And you—” she turned to Jon, eyes narrowing, “—keep your fists to yourself for one night. One. I swear, Jon, you throw a punch tonight, I’m gonna deck you myself.”

Jon just glared, defiant but cornered. “I don’t trust him around you.”

Colby added, voice strained but pleading, “We’re not trying to run your life, Y/N— but he’s not like us. He’s… him. And you’re—” He gestured at her gear, at her badge. “You’re ours.”

She softened for half a heartbeat — just enough for the truth to flicker through the fight. “Yeah. I know. But I’m not just yours. I’m mine. And this—” she jerked her chin toward Gorilla, Cody’s promo still rolling smooth as honey, “—this is what I’ve busted my ass for. Let me handle it my way.”

Y/N could hear his music ending, his cocky voice filling the arena. She rolls her eyes, bracing herself for about of confused questions from the stagehands. She turned back to her boys, braced her fists on her hips, and said with finality: “Stay back. Let me handle him. I promise you — he tries anything? I’ll remind him real quick why I’m the meanest damn dog in the yard.”

Colby raked a hand through his hair, eyes darting between Joe and Jon, resigned but proud in that big-brother way. Jon just muttered under his breath, “Break his pretty teeth if you gotta…”

Joe didn’t say a word — just pulled her into a bone-crushing hug so quick she nearly squeaked, then shoved her forward with a gruff, “Go show ‘em who he’s messing with.”

She grinned at them, a flash of steel and mischief. “Watch and learn, boys.”

Cody Rhodes prowled the center of the ring like it was a throne room built just for him. The lights caught every glint of gold on his new tights, bouncing off the smug curve of his smirk. The microphone danced in his fingertips — a king playing with his crown. “You know, there comes a time,” he purred into the sea of noise, pacing slow circles, voice dripping that old-school bravado that got under people’s skin and stayed there, “when talent alone won’t get you noticed — when being the best-looking man in this building just ain’t enough.”

He stopped dead center, peering into the hard camera with eyes that dared anyone to step up.“But brains? Brains, ladies and gentlemen… get you everything. That’s why, unlike some people around here, I don’t need to hide behind a pack of dogs in riot gear. I stand here alone— because I’m better alone. And there isn’t a soul backstage with the guts to prove me wrong.”

He flicked his tongue over his teeth, mocking. “You hear that, boys in black? Send whoever you want. I’ll still—”

The arena practically exploded. The sudden thunder of Y/N’s entrance theme shook the rafters, drowning out Cody’s next word. For a split second — one heartbeat — the confident mask slipped. His eyes cut hard to the stage, his tongue stilled behind his teeth.

Michael Cole, trying to yell over 15,000 screaming fans: “WHAT?! IT’S Y/N — THE SHIELD’S ENFORCER — SHE LOOKS LIKE SHES ON A MISSION!”

“Or here to kill someone,” Jerry Lawler adds.

JBL stares on, a grin in his voice: “Rhodes might wanna wipe that smirk off his face. Look at her eyes. She’s about to rewrite his entire monologue.”

Y/N hit the top of the ramp like a bullet in human form. Her boots ate up the steel grating; her eyes locked on Cody with a predator’s promise. There was no Shield theme tonight — no flanking hounds behind her. Just her, the lights, and that smile that said she’d never been more dangerous alone. She slid under the bottom rope in one clean motion, rising slow, nose to nose with Cody before the echo of her music even faded. Cody recovered his smirk — barely — the mic raising back to his lips, though his pupils were blown wide with something that wasn’t fear.

“Well, if it isn’t the Queen of Riot Gear herself…” He drew it out like velvet, eyes dragging from her boots to her mouth and back again. He circled her, slow, close enough to brush her shoulder with his bicep — testing her patience like a man poking a lion in a cage. “Tell me — your boyfriends too scared to fight me themselves? Sent their little mascot out instead?”

Y/N’s jaw ticked at the mention of the insult used by Sandow earlier on in the evening. She lifted her mic without blinking. Her voice dripped poison, each word razor-sharp but calm enough to scare him more than yelling ever could. “No. I came out here to remind the world you’re still the same cheap suit who spent three years telling everyone how dashing you were — until someone finally told you to shut up.”

The fans roared so loud the front row spilled beer. Cody barked a laugh, stepping close enough their chests almost brushed. “Oh, sweetheart— trust me. You want me to shut up?” He dropped his voice, all fake sweetness. “You might have to find another way to keep my mouth busy.”

A collective gasp from the front rows. Wolf whistles. A drumbeat chant of “KISS! KISS! KISS!” that made the back of Y/N’s neck flush hot, despite herself.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to his mouth for a dangerous half-second — then she smiled, all teeth, and shoved a finger into his chest. “Careful, Rhodes. I’m not one of your bimbos backstage. You try that on me and I’ll break your jaw so fast you’ll need Sandow to feed you soup for a month.”

The crowd howled — half laughing, half chanting her name like a heartbeat. She didn’t back up. Didn’t flinch. She smiled — slow, wolfish — then jammed her finger right in the middle of his chest, shoving him back a single defiant step. “You think you’re special because you’re pretty? Newsflash: I’ve seen prettier faces, better men — and you’re not half as dangerous as you like to pretend.” She stepped in again, the mic right up to her lips, daring him to close that inch of space back up.

“You want my attention so bad? Earn it. Or shut the hell up before I do it for you.”

The arena detonated — chants mixing with laughter and a few die-hard Shield loyalists barking “BREAK HIS JAW!”

Cody’s grin didn’t fade — if anything, it softened, just around the eyes. For a flicker of a moment, something raw passed between them: a promise, an insult, a dare neither one fully understood yet. He opened his mouth, words brewing, but she was already stepping back. She dropped her mic with a clatter, the sound punctuating her exit like a gunshot. She climbed a corner turnbuckle, one boot planted on the ropes, and threw her arms wide — soaking in the roar of a crowd that had just tasted the beginning of something very new.

Michael Cole, practically squeaking: “I don’t think Rhodes knows what he just started — that’s The Shield’s wild card! And tonight she didn’t come out here on a leash.”

JBL smirks, low laughter under his breath: “Careful what you wish for, Cody. Because she’s not just gonna ruin your promo — she might just ruin your whole life.”

Cody watched her from the center of the ring, that same half-smirk stitched on his mouth — but now it was a mask for the way his eyes tracked her every move like he couldn’t look away if he tried.

And the fans knew it. They all knew it. This wasn’t the end — it was the spark. And they were going to burn each other down before it was over.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Backstage was chaos in motion — production assistants dodged camera cables, a ring crew hustled to tear down a set piece, and somewhere down the hall, an intern nearly got steamrolled by Roman Reigns storming through with murder in his eyes.

Y/N hadn’t even made it ten feet past Gorilla before Jon’s hand clamped around her wrist. He spun her to face him so fast she nearly elbowed him on instinct. “You think that was funny?” Jon snarled, voice low but sharp enough to draw side-eyes from the stagehands pretending not to listen. “Letting him talk to you like that out there? Flirting with him for the crowd?!”

Before she could answer, Colby wedged in, eyebrows halfway up his forehead, pure disbelief etched on every line of his face. “Did you hear the things he said, Y/N? ‘Keep his mouth busy?’ He said that with kids in the damn front row! You shoulda punched him—”

Roman caught up last, more collected but no less thunderous. He crossed his arms, glaring down at her like a disappointed dad. “What did we say about guys like him? Huh? He’s still that same ‘dashing’ asshole— just with a shinier coat of paint. You don’t deserve to be part of his cheap little ego trip.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. She loved them — loved them more than anything — but god, sometimes they made her feel like she was twelve. “Boys—” she started.

“Don’t ‘boys’ us—” Colby snapped.

She snapped her eyes open, voice slicing through them like steel. “ENOUGH! Listen to me — I didn’t pick this, alright? Vince shoved it in my lap because you three started a fight next to the catering table, and now the only way I get ring time is if I play nice with Mr. Rhodes. So you know what? I’ll flirt, I’ll spit venom, I’ll let him run his mouth — and then I’ll shut it for him in the ring. End of story.”

Her chest heaved with the force of it. All three Shield brothers stared, caught between guilt and frustration. Before Jon could grumble out his apology, a headset-wearing production runner jogged up. “Y/N— Vince wants you. Now.”

She exhaled through her teeth. “Perfect.”

She huffs, her boots echoing on the concrete floor as she takes the route to Vince’s office. She swears she’s in that man’s office more often than she’s in the locker room. It’s either for something she did, or making sure the boys don’t get themselves fired. This feels like a mix between both.

When she reaches the room, she slams the office door behind her so hard the cheap gold nameplate rattled half off its screws. Vince didn’t even flinch — didn’t even lift his head, just flicked a glance up over the rim of his reading glasses, eyes sharp as ever. “You wanted to see me? Or am I getting fired because the promo wasn’t exactly what you wanted?” Y/N snapped, crossing her arms tight enough to bruise.

Vince’s mouth twitched — never quite a smile, more a wolf showing teeth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A dramatic exit, a big ‘screw you’ on the way out.”

She threw her hands out. “Oh, believe me, I’d like a lot of things right now. Getting shipped off to be Cody Rhodes’ personal prop isn’t exactly at the top of the list.”

Vince set his pen down with agonizing calm, folding his hands across the desk. “Sit.”

She didn’t move. Her silence said everything. He sighed — more annoyance than exasperation — and leaned back in his leather chair. “Fine. Stand there and pout like a teenager, then. I’ll be quick. You’re not traveling with The Shield for the next few months.”

The words hit her like a punch to the ribs. Her jaw clenched so hard she thought her molars might crack. “You’re kidding.”

“Does this look like a face that jokes?” He spread his hands, voice calm but brimming with iron. “Starting next week, you’re with Rhodes. Hotels. Rental cars. Media appearances. Charity gigs. The works.”

She shook her head once, twice, like that could shake the words out of her ears. “No. No, Vince. You can’t— they need me. Have you seen those idiots? They lose their passports every other week. They forget flight times. They can’t even—”

He cut her off with a quiet snarl, enough to chill her blood. “I don’t give a damn if they wander into the wrong airport and end up in Paraguay. You saw what happened out there tonight — you two light up an arena. You made people care. About him. About you. About what happens next. Do you know how rare that is?”

She clenched her fists until her nails dug half-moons into her palm. “So you punish me for your bottom line? Rip me away from my family so I can play girlfriend to a self-obsessed pretty boy?”

He cocked his head. “I’m not punishing you, Y/N. I’m promoting you. Do you think people chant his name like they chant yours? You’re a star, kid. And stars make sacrifices.”

She laughed — brittle, sharp, a sound with no humor left in it. “Right. And if I say no?”

His eyes went flinty, the grin evaporating like smoke. “Then you remember the arrangement. You say no — you stand ringside. Cheerleading. Not a single match booked. You watch your boys break their backs while you smile for the camera and clap when they win.”

She flinched — just a flicker — but Vince saw it. He always did. He leaned forward, voice dropping into that deceptively soft gravel that could command a stadium or crush a dream in the same breath. “You’re a Shield member. But you’re mine first. And you don’t get to decide when you’re too good for the business that made you. So, you want your matches? You want the spotlight you bled for? Then you give me this story. You and Rhodes. Real tension. Real heat. Maybe more, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. People will believe it because you two make them believe it.”

She looked away, chest heaving. Her eyes burned but she refused to blink — she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her crack. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse with the weight of it all. “You don’t care if it tears up the only thing I have left, do you? My friends? The only people I consider family.”

Vince didn’t soften. He never did. “They’ll manage. They’re big boys. And you? You’re the biggest draw I’ve got right now. So do your job, Y/N. Make ‘em believe. Or stand ringside and wave pretty.”

She swallowed hard. The heat behind her eyes turned to salt down her throat. She forced her hands to uncurl, forced her shoulders to square, forced herself to remember who the hell she was. “Fine,” she ground out. “But when this blows up in your face — when he tries to turn this into something it’s not — you remember you built that bomb, not me.”

Vince’s grin returned — shark teeth in a grandfather’s face. “Atta girl.”

She didn’t trust herself to answer. She spun on her heel, yanked the door so hard it slammed into the wall with a satisfying crack — and this time, she didn’t look back. Y/N didn’t get far. Thirty feet down the hallway, she ducked behind a stack of battered flight cases — and snapped.

Her fist smashed into the cold metal once. Twice. A third time, knuckles flaring with pain she barely felt over the roar in her head. She kicked a rolling cart so hard it rattled halfway down the hall, squeaking pathetically before crashing against a wall. But it wasn’t enough — not nearly enough.

Her breath came ragged, shoulders jerking as she braced both palms on the crate’s edge and bowed her head, forehead nearly touching steel. The tears came next. Hot, silent, furious. They dripped off her nose, splattering the black road case below. Behind her, boots pounded the concrete. Voices — hers. Always hers.

“Hey— hey— Y/N—” Jon’s rough rasp, usually all bite and sarcasm, now gentle as a bruise. He grabbed her shoulders, spinning her before she could flinch, pulling her tight against his chest like he could muscle the world back into place for her. She didn’t fight him. Just sank into the familiar scent of leather and sweat and brotherhood. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his vest, anchoring herself there while the ugly, broken sobs punched out of her one by one.

Colby and Joe closed in like a shield made flesh. Colby’s hand slid to her back, palm moving slow and steady over her spine, grounding her. Joe’s big arm caged around them all, his chin brushing the crown of her head. “Hey— look at me.” Joe’s voice, low thunder that somehow sounded kind. “Breathe. You gotta breathe, yeah?”

She dragged her face from Jon’s chest, the tears streaking black under her eyes. Her lip trembled, rage and heartbreak making her chest squeeze tight. “He— he’s— he’s sending me with Rhodes. On the road. Away from you guys. All because I opened my mouth and you started a damn fight—!”

Jon flinched like she’d slapped him. “Y/N—”

“He wants me to fall for him. Wants it to look real. Wants me to be some— some soap opera side piece so people tune in for his precious ratings.” She swiped at her face, but the tears kept coming. “And if I don’t play along, if I fight him on it, I’m back to ringside. Stupid fucking Sandow would be proven right. I’d be your mascot, clapping while you three run the whole show without me.”

Colby’s hand stilled on her back, fist curling in the fabric of her vest. “I’ll kill him. I’ll actually—”

“Same,” Joe rumbled, forehead resting against hers now, voice so soft it cracked her all over again. “No man does this to you. I don’t care what he’s worth to Vince. You’re worth more.”

She let out a watery laugh, the sound sharp and exhausted. “You three can’t even remember what town we’re in half the time. You lose your wallets, your gear, your entire hotel keys— how are you gonna save me from this?”

Jon barked a humorless chuckle, but his eyes burned like coals. He brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “Because we’re The Shield, sweetheart. And The Shield doesn’t abandon its own. Ever. He might share your rental car, but he doesn’t get you. Not really.”

Colby grinned through the storm, leaning his forehead against hers so their eyes locked. “He can have your time on the road. He’ll never have your back in the ring. That’s ours.”

A fresh tear spilled, but this one carved through the smallest, fiercest smile. “God, you idiots. You make it so hard to hate you.”

Joe chuckled low, pressing a careful kiss to her temple like sealing a promise. “Good. Now breathe, sister. You go do this dumb angle. You get your paycheck. You keep your place at the top. We’ll be right behind you — whether they write us in or not.”

She sniffed, dragging her wrist under her nose, trying for a brave face. “Promise me you won’t try to jump him next week.”

Jon snorted, voice dripping dry venom. “No promises. But we’ll aim for backstage, not on camera. Better for ratings.”

That pulled a half-laugh from her chest — small, real, enough to make the ache bearable for now. She huffed out a breath and let them hold her a few seconds more, safe in the fortress of riot gear and reckless love. She was being shipped off to fight an angle she never asked for — but as long as these three shadows stayed behind her, she’d never really be alone.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The rumble of Cody’s rental car idled in front of the hotel. He leaned one elbow on the open window, sunglasses on despite the overcast morning, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to some classic rock station humming low through the speakers. When the back door slammed open, he straightened just in time to see her stalk out dragging her gear bag behind her like it owed her money. He couldn’t help it — the smirk slid right into place. “There she is. My favorite Shield member.”

She shot him a glare so sharp it might’ve cracked his windshield. She didn’t break stride, tossing her bag in the back seat before yanking open the driver’s door. “Out.”

Cody blinked behind his shades. “Uh — beg your pardon?”

She jerked her chin at him, brows arched with lethal calm. “Out. Of. My. Seat.”

He gave a mock laugh, glancing around the empty lot like maybe she was pranking him. “You’re serious?”

She planted one palm on the roof and leaned down until they were nose to nose. “You really think I trust you driving me through two states? Get your pretty boy ass in the passenger seat. Now.”

A laugh cracked from his throat despite himself. “God, you’re a piece of work.” But he got out, sidestepping her with a playful twirl of his keys before tossing them back.

“Try not to hit anything. Insurance doesn’t cover bruised egos.”

She snatched the keys mid-air, hip-checking him toward the other side. “Buckle up, Rhodes. I drive fast.”

The first hour on the interstate was exactly what he’d expected: tense silence, punctuated by her death grip on the wheel and the occasional murder glare when he so much as adjusted the air vent.

He tried anyway. Of course he did. “So… Y/N, right? Short for anything?”

“Nope.”

“You always this chatty?”

“Only when idiots are talking at me.”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “You know, most women would kill for alone time with me.”

She snorted, eyes locked on the road. “Congrats on being delusional. Must be peaceful in that head of yours.”

He chuckled low, leaning back in his seat. He watched her hands more than the highway — the way her fingers flexed and adjusted around the wheel, the faint white line of an old scar near her knuckle. Little pieces of her that the Shield boys kept the world from ever seeing. She caught him staring and snapped, “Eyes on your side, Romeo. I know where I’m going.”

“Relax. I’m just appreciating the view.” He wiggled his brows. “Gotta make this road trip worth the trauma, sweetheart.”

“Touch me and I swear to God I’ll break your nose.”

“Promises, promises.”

They bickered about gas stations first. Cody pointed at a bright neon sign for a big chain stop half a mile ahead, practically bouncing in his seat. “Take that next exit. That place has Starbucks. And a bathroom that doesn’t double as a crime scene.”

Y/N didn’t even glance at the sign — she veered off at the very next random exit without slowing down. “We’re stopping here. I want real coffee. Not overpriced hipster sludge.”

He squinted out the window as she coasted into a cracked lot behind a battered old gas station. The ‘OPEN’ sign flickered like it might give up at any moment. “Real coffee?” he repeated, deadpan. “This place looks like a horror movie. If I get tetanus, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

She popped the door open with a pointed smile. “Don’t be dramatic, Rhodes. One rat tail in your latte builds character.”

Inside, she stalked straight to the dusty snack aisle while Cody hovered suspiciously near a leaking soda machine. She plucked bags of jerky, two Red Bulls, and a suspicious-looking muffin from a basket near the register. He trailed behind her, dropping an armful of candy and chocolate on top of her pile. She narrowed her eyes. “We are not buying your sugar stash. Put it back.”

He feigned innocence. “Protein and carbs, sweetheart. You need fuel if you’re gonna keep threatening to kill me every five miles.”

She swatted his gummy bears back at him — he lobbed a chocolate bar at her head in retaliation. She caught it one-handed and whipped it back into his chest. The old man behind the counter watched them with mild horror.

Back on the road, it was only a matter of time before the radio battle started. Y/N cranked Metallica up so loud it rattled the passenger door. Cody grimaced, fingers stabbing at the dash controls until he managed to cut it off mid-guitar solo. “Jesus — my ears are bleeding. My playlist, my rules.” He plugged in his phone, Taylor Swift crooning an upbeat chorus a second later.

Y/N threw him a look so lethal it should’ve stopped the car. “Are you kidding me right now?”

He grinned, drumming his knuckles on the armrest in time with the chorus. “You need to lighten up, princess. Consider this an education in actual music.”

“I will launch that phone into the next state.”

“Try it. I’ll file a complaint with HR for harassment.”

She barked a laugh, but it was all teeth. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, legs stretched obnoxiously wide. “No, everyone thinks I’m cute. Big difference.”

She bit back a scoff, switching back to Metallica with a vengeful stab at the dash. “It must be exhausting to be this cocky ”

His smile dropped for a heartbeat. “You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t actually know me.”

“Don’t need to know you. I’ve heard enough.” She shrugged, eyes on the road. “The boys keep plenty of receipts.”

He let out a low whistle, voice softer but sharper somehow. “Ah. So that’s what this is. Jon’s bedtime horror stories about how I once big-timed him for catering. Colby swearing I was sniffing around places I don’t belong. Joe acting like I’m a stray mutt with rabies.”

“Maybe don’t act like a mutt then,” she shot back. But her grip on the wheel tightened, betraying the edge under her words.

Cody studied her in the flickering lights of passing trucks, the playful spark in his eyes tempered by something real now. “Newsflash, sweetheart: I might be a pain in the ass, but I don’t need your boys to like me. I do need you to maybe think for yourself, though.”

That made her laugh — but it cracked at the end. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rhodes. I think just fine. And trust me — if you were worth the benefit of the doubt, I’d have given it.”

A tense silence settled in. Metallica growled low in the background, the road yawning endless ahead. He turned away first, looking out his window with a grudging smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Then I guess I’ll just have to prove ‘em wrong, huh?”

She didn’t answer, but the way her jaw unclenched told him enough to know he’d landed a hit.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

By the time they’d been on the road four hours, dusk spilled across the highway in bruised streaks of purple and gold. The cab of the car felt like a tiny universe — half Metallica riffs, half the low hum of the engine, all crackling tension that had somehow shifted from barbed to something almost… bearable.

Cody saw it first: the telltale drift of her eyelids at a long red light. The way her hand, clenched white-knuckle on the wheel for hours, now flexed limply between shifts.

He cut the volume down with a flick of his thumb, voice softer but sharp enough to slice through the tired fog she’d wrapped herself in. “Hey. Pull over.”

Her scowl was automatic, almost sluggish. “Shut up.”

“You’re exhausted, sweetheart. I can see you blinking in slow motion.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” She scrubbed a palm over her face, fighting the sleep dragging at her bones. “And I’m fine. Stop mothering me—”

“Fine?” He barked a humorless laugh, drumming his fingers on the console. “You just missed a sign for the highway you’ve been ranting about for an hour.”

She squinted at the road signs ahead, jaw tightening when she realized he wasn’t wrong. “Eat shit, Rhodes.”

“Pull. Over.” His tone dropped — not cruel, just immovable. The same stubborn steel that got under her skin and, she’d grudgingly admit, kept her awake better than the Red Bull rolling around at her feet.

She sucked in a breath, teeth sinking into her lip as if she could bite back the exhaustion by sheer force of will. “I don’t need—”

“You do,” he cut in, voice low but calm now. “You do. Just this once — drop the act, princess. Everyone’s human. Even you.”

Her hands clenched tighter on the wheel. She hated how that landed — gentle, exasperated, annoyingly real. She hated that he saw her cracking and didn’t make a joke of it.

With a muttered curse, she yanked the car onto the shoulder, tires crunching over gravel. She slammed it into park so violently the whole car rocked. “Touch my seat or mirror settings and I swear—”

Cody popped his door open with a smirk, leaning in close enough their noses nearly brushed.“Relax,” he murmured, voice dipping warm and taunting at once. “I can handle the beast of your preferred car settings. You just handle the snoring.”

She blinked at him, thrown for a heartbeat by how sincere that sounded under the teasing edge. He chuckled at her silence, brushing past her to slide behind the wheel. She stalked around the hood, muttering, “I hate you.”

He shot back without missing a beat, “And yet you look at me like you almost trust me right now. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your guard dogs.”

That shut her up. She climbed into the passenger seat with a glare that couldn’t quite hide the flicker of something softer beneath it. Minutes later, her head drifted toward the cool window, lashes fluttering once, twice — then gone, sleep tugging her under faster than she could fight it.

Cody gripped the wheel, knuckles whitening as he risked a glance at her.

God, she looked different like this. The hurricane armor was gone: no clipped insults, no eyes sparking hellfire. Just a stubborn girl who carried three grown men on her shoulders and wouldn’t admit she was tired until she damn near crashed. He caught himself staring too long at a green light — had to clear his throat, dragging his gaze back to the endless ribbon of asphalt.

Yeah. This was gonna be a problem. She was gonna be a problem.

And the worst part? For once in his life, Cody Rhodes wasn’t entirely sure he minded one damn bit.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The next show felt like stepping into the same storm — only now, for Y/N, the wind was blowing from two directions at once. She’d barely dumped her duffel in the Shield’s locker room when the door swung open like it owed Jon money.

“There she is,” Jon announced, boots thudding across the concrete. “The runaway bride herself. How was the romantic road trip with Golden Boy?”

Joe ducked under the doorframe behind him, tossing a water bottle back and forth between his hands. “Yeah. How many times’d he beg you to marry him? Or did you murder him and bury him behind a Waffle House?”

Colby, always the quieter hammer, planted himself on the bench beside her bag, smirk sharp as a blade. “Well? Did he make you wanna leap from a moving car or what?”

Y/N braced her elbows on her knees, taping her wrists slower than usual. She opened her mouth — ready to fire off some trademark venom — but the words stuck. Instead, her mind traitorously flicked back to the dark road. To him telling her to pull over. To his stupid warm voice saying to pull over. To the fact that when she woke up hours later, she felt like someone had cared.

She cleared her throat, voice too casual. “He’s still alive, so... I guess that’s a disappointment for all of us.”

Colby frowned, catching the way her teeth sank into her cheek. “You didn’t answer the question.”

She forced a lopsided grin, flicking her eyes up at him. “Oh, yeah — I was this close to gouging my eyes out. He wouldn’t shut up. Played Taylor Swift, for god’s sake.”

Jon barked a laugh, satisfied — but Joe tilted his head, suspicious. “Huh. And you let him live?”

Y/N shrugged, tugging her tape tighter than necessary. “I was too tired to fight him and the radio.” Her voice dropped softer than she meant. “He just... drove. So I could sleep.”

Colby’s eyebrows shot up — but before he could probe that, a sharp knock rattled the door. A stagehand peeked in, headset crooked, shuffling a paper in his hand like it burned. “Uh— hey, sorry — Ms. Y/N. Vince wanted me to give you this. There’s been an adjustment tonight.”

Y/N took the paper, eyes scanning the fresh ink. Her stomach did a flip she refused to show on her face.

Mixed Tag Match: Y/N & Cody Rhodes vs. The Miz & Eve Torres

Of course. Perfect. Vince was doubling down on the fireworks.

Jon snatched the paper from her hands, reading it like it was a threat. “Nope. Not happening. No way you’re getting thrown into a soap opera match with him now, too—”

Joe growled low in his chest. “We already said we’d handle it if he gets handsy—”

She cut through their fury, voice calm but distracted. “Guys. It’s fine.” She lifted her chin at them. “It’s business. And it’s Miz and Eve — not a bloodbath. I can handle it.”

Colby’s eyes narrowed, studying the subtle shift in her — the fight in her tone replaced by something quiet, almost... uncertain. “You sure about this? You don’t look like you wanna break his face anymore.”

She threw him a sharp look. “Don’t push it. It’s a match. That’s it. And I’m still running your segment later — I’ll be ringside, barking orders at you idiots as usual.”

The stagehand coughed into his headset. “Uh— sorry — there’s more. Vince wants The Shield out there during her match, too. As ‘support.’” He made finger quotes, face apologetic. “He said — and I quote — ‘Their snarling makes her look tougher.’”

Jon huffed, but it morphed into a savage grin. “Damn right it does. Fine. He wants us ringside? He’s gonna get the Shield ringside.”

Joe clapped a hand on her shoulder, squeezing just shy of bone-crushing. “You call the shots. He gets cute — you say the word, we break his teeth.”

Y/N blew out a breath, fighting the tiny traitorous curl in her chest that she refused to name.

“Relax, you big guard dogs. It’s a match. And when it’s over... we’ll still be us.”

And in her chest, for the first time, the thought whispered back — But maybe not just us, anymore.

The arena pulsed with the bass of Cody Rhodes’ theme — sharp, confident, just cocky enough to drag a tidal wave of boos and squeals in equal measure. He emerged under the arch of lights, arms spread, that smug half-grin firmly back where it belonged. He took his time on the ramp, soaking it up like a sunbeam, glancing at the hard cam with that signature Rhodes wink.

When he reached ringside, he leaned back on the ropes, chin tilted toward the entrance — waiting.

And then—

“SIERRA. HOTEL. INDIA. ECHO. LIMA. DELTA… SHIELD.”

The roar hit like a bomb. Black-tactical storm pouring through the crowd — Jon leading the charge, Joe a stone wall beside him, Colby stalking in his wake. But behind them, a fourth figure stepped out under the lights — all sleek riot gear and lethal confidence — and the pop hit another level.

Y/N stalked ahead of the boys at the barricade, eyes locked on Cody like a heat-seeking missile. She didn’t so much as glance at the fans screaming her name — her whole focus was the man leaning cockily against the ropes, waiting for her.

The boys took up guard at ringside, pacing like wolves with too-short leashes as she climbed the steps and slipped between the ropes — stopping nose-to-nose with Rhodes. He mouthed something the cameras didn’t catch. She answered with a smirk and a shove that made the front row lose their minds.

DING DING DING!

The Miz tagged in first, smirk plastered on his face as he circled Cody — but the crowd knew the heat was in the corners. Cody and Miz traded holds, quick and clean, until Miz tagged Eve with a flourish.

Y/N launched herself over the ropes before Eve’s foot even hit the mat. They locked up hard, Eve trash-talking something fierce until Y/N snapped off a perfect arm drag that made the crowd roar. A stiff dropkick followed, then a running knee that cracked Eve flat.

Outside, Jon punched the barricade, howling with pride. “That’s my girl—!”

But the momentum shifted. Eve ducked a clothesline, tagged Miz back in, forcing Cody’s return. Cody didn’t miss a beat — sliding in smooth, catching Miz with a beautiful standing dropkick that echoed. It was fast — crisp — but the magic hit when Miz ducked, caught Cody in a front headlock, and Y/N slammed her palm on Cody’s shoulder. Blind tag.

She vaulted the top rope while Cody launched Miz backward — she flipped, caught Miz mid-rotation with a flying neckbreaker, and the arena exploded.

Colby’s jaw dropped. Joe slapped his chest, wild with disbelief. “You seeing this shit?!”

Miz scrambled, tagged Eve again, but Eve looked hesitant now. Y/N baited her in, feinted left, then whipped her across the ring. She caught Eve with a spine-shaking backbreaker and pointed at Cody — challenging.

He read her in an instant — no cue cards, no missed beat. She sprinted to the corner, Cody braced low, and she ran straight up his cupped hands — springboarded clean onto the top rope, spun mid-air and crashed down on Eve with a flawless corkscrew crossbody.

The crowd lost their minds.

Jon was practically climbing the barricade now, half furious, half shocked out of his skull. “WHAT THE HELL DID WE TEACH HER?!”

Colby shouted over him, “SHE’S NEVER TRUSTED ANYONE TO BASE FOR THAT—”

In the ring, Cody stalked over as Miz lunged back in to break the pin — but Cody met him halfway, hooking him into Cross Rhodes and driving him straight into the mat.

Three seconds later: 1… 2… 3!

The bell. The roar. Y/N on her knees, panting over Eve’s defeated form, Cody towering above her with a cocky grin that almost looked proud. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her to her feet, then lifted her arm high. For a heartbeat, she glared at him. For another, she let the grin crack through — small, unguarded, just for him.

Then he stepped in — no script, no camera cue — and pulled her in tight.

The Shield boys went ballistic on the floor, barking curses and pacing like caged tigers. The crowd, meanwhile, practically shook the rafters off the building:

“THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!”

Cody didn’t let go until he felt her stiffen — not in rejection but in realization. He lingered just one second more than he should have, then eased back, brushing a stray hair off her cheek before she could slap his hand away.

The boys climbed the apron, snarls barely restrained. But Y/N barely noticed them — her pulse was thunder, her eyes locked on Cody’s mouth as he leaned in close, voice low enough for only her to hear:

“Hell of a team, huh, sweetheart?”

And this time — for once — she didn’t have a comeback ready.

Backstage was a frenzy of movement and noise — but all of it blurred at the edges for the Shield the moment they cornered Y/N just past Gorilla. Jon planted himself directly in her path, eyes narrowed, voice low enough to cut glass. “What. The hell. Was that out there?”

She yanked at her wrist tape like it offended her, not looking at any of them. “A match, Jon. That thing we get paid to do.”

Colby crossed his arms, stepping closer until they boxed her in. “Don’t get smart. You know what he means. You pulled the corkscrew. With him. You won’t even let us catch you on that one.”

Joe’s broad shoulders tensed. He jabbed a finger at her chest, frustration barely contained. “And the hug? The crowd was eating it up — and so was he. You didn’t shove him off. You didn’t even flinch.”

She snapped her gaze up at that, fire flaring for a heartbeat. “I was working, okay? The fans want tension? I’ll give them tension. I’m not gonna tank the damn chemistry just because you three can’t stand him breathing the same air as me.”

Jon barked a mirthless laugh. “Chemistry? That’s one word for it. He’s got your head spinning so fast you didn’t even see the way he looked at you when you hit Gorilla. Like he owns the ring and you with it.”

She bristled — about to fire back — but her eyes flicked across the hall, drawn like iron to a magnet. There he was. Cody Rhodes. Standing a few feet away near a row of crates, Sandow at his side yammering about god-knows-what — but Cody’s attention wasn’t on Sandow.

It was locked on her.

Not cocky or mocking this time. Just… intent. There was a softness there she hadn’t signed up for, wrapped up in that maddening smirk. He lifted his chin at her, the ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth — a silent question: You feel that too, don’t you?

She hated that her chest squeezed at the sight. Hated that she almost smiled back.

Colby followed her gaze, and his exasperated groan snapped her out of it. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Don’t tell me he’s already gotten under your skin—”

She tore her eyes away, rolling her shoulders like she could shake him off her skin. “Don’t flatter him. He’s nothing. It’s business. Vince wants sparks, I’m giving him fireworks. That’s all.”

Joe frowned, reading the lie in the tight lines around her eyes. “You sure about that?”

She didn’t answer. Just flicked her wrist, tossing the shredded tape into a bin. Cody, still across the way, tilted his head — a dare in his eyes now. Her pulse stuttered.

Jon rapped his knuckles on the back of her shoulder, snapping her back to the present. “Hey. You coming? We gotta prep for our segment.”

She sucked in a breath, tearing her gaze from Cody’s. That stupid grin was still there, softer than it had any right to be. She hated how it made something warm coil low in her stomach. She forced her feet to move, brushing past Jon and Colby with a muttered, “Yeah. I’m coming.”

As she walked away, she could feel Cody’s eyes burning into her spine the whole way down the hall — and for the first time, she couldn’t tell if she hated it… or wanted him to look harder.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The ride back to the hotel should’ve been easy — ten minutes of asphalt and white noise — but instead it was suffocating. Cody could feel every word they weren’t saying pressing against the windows like fog. He didn’t dare break it. Not yet.

By the time the car rolled into the lot and they trudged up to their room, both were wired and bone-tired all at once. Two queen beds, identical duvets — neutral, forgettable, safe. But the air between them felt anything but.

Cody dropped his duffel by the far bed, eyes flicking to her as she tossed hers onto the nearer one. She sat immediately, elbows braced on her knees, shoulders hunched like she was physically bracing for a fight.

He drew a breath, slow. He hated dancing around things — it was why people liked him on the mic. So he didn’t bother with small talk. “You absolutely killed it tonight. You know that, right?”

Y/N didn’t look up. “We did what Vince paid us to do.”

He pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, considering. “Yeah, well, we did it better than anyone else could’ve. Commentators loved it. Even your three angry watch dogs probably loved it — even if they wanna punt me off a bridge about it.”

That got the faintest tug at the corner of her mouth, but it didn’t stick. She picked at a loose string on her sleeve, nails worrying at it until it frayed. “Doesn’t matter. To them, I’m still too reckless. Too naive. Too trusting for my own good. It’s always been that way.”

Her voice cracked just barely at the end. Cody’s ears pricked — the real her was peeking through, whether she wanted it to or not. He sat on his bed, leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees so he was eye level with her. “Hey. You’re gonna have to explain that. Because from where I’m standing, you’re the least naive person in the locker room. You’ve got more spine than half the roster put together.”

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. It scraped her throat raw. “Yeah, well… wasn’t always true. Before the Shield, before WWE even looked my way, I worked indie shows no one remembers. Barns, fairgrounds — you name it. Promoters loved me because I was marketable. ‘Look, a girl who can take a bump — let’s put her in a bra and toss her through a table.’ Didn’t matter if I bled for it. Didn’t matter if I could run the ropes better than the guy they were pushing. I was just the sideshow. ‘Bring her out when the crowd gets bored.’”

She didn’t mean to keep going — but it poured out, unstoppable now that she’d cracked the seal.“Got so used to doing it alone. Proving I wasn’t just a body in shorts. Then I met Jon. He was at one of my shows, thought I had something. He was in NXT at the time. So he vouched for me to Hunter. He and Joe and Colby — they treated me like I mattered. Not as a prop. As a soldier. An equal. So yeah — they’re overprotective assholes. But… without them, I probably wouldn’t even be here.”

The room buzzed with the soft hum of the AC unit. Cody didn’t dare interrupt. He just watched her — her throat working around words she hated giving away, her hands trembling just slightly. When she finally glanced at him, there was a flash of embarrassment there, like she’d suddenly realized just how much she’d revealed to him of all people. “Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, more bite than strength in her tone. “I don’t do the sob story thing. I hate it.”

But Cody didn’t smirk this time. Didn’t tease. His eyes stayed steady, quiet. “Not looking at you like anything. I’m listening. Maybe you don’t get enough of that.”

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then barked a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Great. Now I get to add ‘pity’ to the list of reasons I can’t stand you.”

He leaned back with a huff of amusement, but the warmth stayed in his eyes. “No pity. Just respect. And maybe a little regret that I didn’t see it sooner. You’re hell on wheels in the ring, but outside? I get it now. Why you guard your heart like that.”

She stayed silent, teeth worrying her bottom lip until it hurt. A second passed — then another — before she broke it with a muttered curse. “God, I don’t even know why I told you that. I never tell anyone that. They’d laugh. They’d say I’m soft now.”

Cody shook his head immediately. “Not soft. Never soft. Just tired of fighting alone.”

He let the words hang there like an offering. And for once, she didn’t swing back with a snarl. She just watched him, eyes searching his face for whatever trap she was sure he’d laid — but there was none.

He stood then, scrubbing a hand through his hair like he needed to burn off the sudden rawness.“Anyway. I’m gonna grab a shower before I get too philosophical and ruin my reputation.”

She cracked a dry grin, voice almost fond despite herself. “Wouldn’t want the big bad Rhodes to go soft, huh?”

His answering smirk was softer than it should’ve been, but it made her stomach flip all the same. “Careful, sweetheart — keep talking like that and I might think you don’t hate me anymore.”

Before she could throw a pillow at his head, he ducked into the bathroom, leaving her alone with the echo of her own heartbeat and the terrifying realization: For the first time in forever… she didn’t feel alone. And that scared her more than anything.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The next few months turned out to be nothing like she’d expected. At first, Y/N braced herself for misery: a long stretch of awkward silences and cheap, infuriating digs from Cody Rhodes every time they had to share a car, a locker room, or an arena hallway. She’d even packed extra headphones just so she wouldn’t have to listen to his smug voice on long drives.

But somewhere between midnight gas station raids and adrenaline crashes in half-lit hotel parking lots, something subtle shifted.

They still bickered — God, they bickered — about everything. Over whether to take the interstate or the backroads, which podcast was less insufferable, who got the last handful of trail mix. She told him he had the emotional depth of a garden rake; he told her she was all sharp tongue and no follow-through.

Yet, under all that static, something warm had begun to flicker.

She learned he never drank energy drinks after sunset because he hated lying awake. He learned exactly how she liked her coffee — black, but with a shot of cheap hazelnut syrup she’d never admit to buying. He started bringing her an extra cup when he knew she’d pretend she didn’t want it but would steal his anyway.

She noticed the way he always checked that the hotel door latched twice before he’d let himself relax. He noticed how she curled her fingers around the seatbelt when she fell asleep in the passenger seat — as if bracing for some old nightmare.

Sometimes, he made her laugh so hard she’d have to bite her knuckle to muffle it. Not the polite chuckle she gave the boys to keep them from asking too many questions — real laughter, the kind that cracked open something she’d welded shut years ago.

And the ring? Together they were chaos on tap. Audiences ate it up: the Shield’s lone wolf and the golden prince side by side, crackling with tension that blurred so perfectly between storyline and reality that half the locker room started taking bets on when they’d drop the act — or if it was ever an act at all.

They were so good that Vince began building entire nights around them. She was still the Shield’s bullet in a flak vest, but with Cody at her side, she got to show a sharper edge — more cunning, more poison, more reckless risk that made the crowd chant her name until the rafters shook.

And off-screen? Well. Off-screen, she was still telling herself it meant nothing. That it was just business. That the way she sometimes caught him watching her when he thought she wouldn’t see was just part of the job.

But late at night, when they’d stumble into some cheap hotel room after a match and collapse on opposite beds, there were moments when she wondered if the line had disappeared altogether.

One night, somewhere between Omaha and Des Moines, it bled out louder than usual. She was leaning against a rental car, hair still damp from the shower she’d rushed through at the arena. Cody stood opposite her, passing a cheap sandwich back and forth because the only diner for miles had closed at midnight.

“—I swear to God, Rhodes, if you tell the boys I ate a gas station BLT, I will smother you in your sleep.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth with the back of his finger. The touch was so easy now she didn’t even flinch.“Oh, so now you’re worried about your image? After you German-suplexed Ziggler through a barricade tonight?”

She shoved his chest lightly, but she didn’t move away. “Dolph had it coming. And shut up, you loved it.”

Cody tilted his head, that grin softening into something that felt too dangerous in the moonlight. “You know what I loved? Watching you trust me to catch you again tonight. No hesitation this time.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice went quiet at the edges. “Don’t make it weird. It’s just business.”

He didn’t look away. “Yeah. Sure. Just business.”

For half a second, they were frozen — the cool night air buzzing around them, a radio muttering static in the car. She could smell his shampoo, feel the warmth radiating off him. She should have stepped back. Should have thrown another jab. Instead she muttered, almost to herself, “You’re not as awful as I thought you’d be, you know that?”

He caught it. Of course he did. His mouth curved, slow and victorious. “Careful, Y/N. Don’t want anyone to think we’re friends now do we?”

She laughed — real and reckless — and shoved him harder this time. “In your dreams, Rhodes.”

But later, dozing off against the window as the Iowa highway hummed under the tires, she caught herself replaying that moment on loop.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Tonight was more of the same chaos — except tonight it felt different, heavier, like a fuse burning toward a powder keg. Y/N had gotten ready faster than usual — gear laced up, hair braided back tight, eyeliner sharper than any blade Colby owned — and slipped out before the boys even realized she’d vanished. She needed a breath of quiet before the noise that always came with them.

They didn’t notice until Jon asked if she’d seen his gloves. Then Joe checked for her in the hallway. Then Colby asked where the hell his phone charger went and realized she’d been gone ten whole minutes.

It took them thirty seconds to split up and sniff her out like a pack of guard dogs.

They found her tucked by a stack of crates down a shadowed hall. But what stopped them cold wasn’t the hidden corner — it was the sound: her laugh, warm and open, like she didn’t know they were listening. Cody Rhodes stood so close to her their boots nearly touched. One hand braced on the crate by her head, the other absently playing with a loose end of her braid. It was casual, almost intimate — too damn familiar for Colby’s eyes.

They caught enough of the hushed conversation to light Jon’s fuse.

“—told you I’d never drop you,” Cody was saying, voice low, almost soft. He tugged her braid playfully. “You never trust me until you have to. Starting to think you just like the thrill.”

She smirked, smacking his wrist away but didn’t move an inch from his chest. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy. You’ve caught me so far. Try it again tonight and maybe I’ll start believing you’re not completely full of shit.”

He leaned closer, breath ghosting her cheek. “I’ll catch you every damn time. Promise.”

That’s when Colby snapped. Boots pounding the concrete, voice a snarl. “Hey! Rhodes — BACK THE HELL UP.”

Cody didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at him first. His eyes stayed on her another heartbeat before flicking lazily over Colby’s shoulder. His grin was infuriating. “Evening, Colby. We were just talking—”

Colby slammed a palm into Cody’s chest, driving him back a step. “I said back up. Or I’ll put you through that wall.”

Y/N jolted, eyes wide. “Colby, what the hell—!”

Cody laughed, low and mean, pushing back into Colby’s space. Their chests bumped, tension humming electric. “Look at you. Alpha dog routine still working? Or you worried she might finally want something you can’t scare off?”

Jon and Joe skidded up just in time to see Colby rear back and swing first — a full haymaker that cracked against Cody’s jaw so hard it echoed.

“Colby, STOP!” Y/N’s scream barely registered as Cody stumbled, then lunged back, fists swinging. The crates behind them rattled as they crashed into them, locked in a vicious snarl of fists, elbows, curses.

Jon grabbed Colby’s arm but got shoved for his trouble. Joe caught Cody’s shoulder, dragging him back only to get an elbow in the ribs. “Always hiding behind your stupid charm, huh Rhodes?!” Colby spat, teeth bared. “Can’t get her unless we let you, right?!”

Cody’s lip split, blood slick over his teeth — but his grin was feral, a promise of more. “You think you own her? She’s not your damn property, Lopez—”

Y/N shoved between them so hard she nearly fell. “ENOUGH! All of you — STOP!”

But they didn’t. Not until Vince’s roar cracked the hallway like thunder. “HEY! ENOUGH! I SAID ENOUGH!”

Everything froze. Fists cocked, chests heaving. Vince stalked into the circle, suit jacket flaring like a cape, eyes gleaming with both rage and glee. “You boys want to kill each other so bad? Fine. New main event: Seth Rollins versus Cody Rhodes. Tonight. You want blood, do it where it makes me money. Or you’re all fined, you got it?!”

Cody wiped his mouth, eyes still locked on Colby. Colby seethed, barely held in check by Jon’s iron grip on his vest collar.

Y/N’s shoulders shook as she turned on her brothers — eyes bright, voice ragged. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You think I’m too stupid to stand here and talk to someone without you storming in like rabid animals?! You don’t trust him — fine! But do you trust me? Or is this what it’s gonna be forever?!”

Colby flinched, guilt flickering behind the rage but too proud to drop it. Jon looked like he might hit a wall just to vent the tension. Joe’s big hand hovered on her back, grounding her, but she shrugged it off, furious tears welling.

Cody watched her, eyes softer now but still burning for a fight. When she glanced at him, she hated that some part of her chest didn’t tighten in anger — it loosened instead, and she didn’t know what that meant.

Vince pointed at them like an executioner. “You three — gear up. You,” he jabbed at Cody, “get your pretty face cleaned up. Ring in twenty minutes. And you—” He rounded on Y/N, voice dropping. “Better decide whose corner you’re standing in. Because tonight, sweetheart — you don’t get to have both.”

Silence.

Then Cody, a hint of a smirk through his split lip, said just loud enough for her to hear. “Guess you gotta pick, sweetheart. Hope you trust me.”

She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. Not with Colby’s glare burning a hole through her back and Jon’s wounded stare cutting deeper than any blade. Tonight, lines weren’t just blurred. They were drawn in blood. And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure which side she wanted to stand on.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The air inside the arena vibrated with a tension so sharp you could taste it. Cody’s entrance hit first, but tonight he didn’t strut — he stalked. Jaw tight, eyes locked dead ahead at the ring like it owed him blood and payback in equal measure. Fans screamed, half for him, half for the chaos they knew was brewing.

Then The Shield’s war drums rumbled out. The reaction was a thunderclap: three silhouettes emerging from the crowd, Colby leading with that murder glare etched across his sweat-slick face. Jon and Joe flanked him, bodies coiled tight with fury. Y/N walked behind them this time — not beside, not hidden — trailing just far enough to be apart, close enough to remind everyone who she was.

When they hit ringside, Jon and Joe fell naturally to Colby’s corner, arms folded over the ropes like hellhounds. Y/N hovered at the corner post, but she didn’t climb up. She stayed halfway between Cody’s side and theirs — feet planted on neutral ground no one else seemed to occupy but her alone.

The bell rang.

The first few minutes were technical, precise — two pros testing each other’s limits with crisp grapples, tight reversals, nothing wasted. But it didn’t stay professional for long.

Colby slapped Cody hard across the face during a rope break — the crack echoed all the way to the cheap seats. Cody answered with a vicious forearm that sent spit flying from Colby’s mouth.

“This is personal!” Cole hollered on commentary.

“You think?! These two are trying to kill each other for real, Michael!” JBL barked.

Y/N’s eyes darted back and forth, heart hammering. She hated how her body betrayed her — every stomp Colby landed, every elbow Cody fired back, she felt it like a phantom bruise under her ribs.

Ten minutes in, Cody caught Colby with a slick Disaster Kick out of nowhere — the crowd popped huge, but his landing was ugly. His ankle rolled awkwardly on the canvas with an audible pop and he stumbled into the ropes, teeth bared in a silent snarl of pain.

Colby smelled blood immediately. He hooked Cody under the arm, yanked him up, and dumped him back-first into the turnbuckle so hard the whole ring rattled. Cody crumpled, clutching the ankle, sweat dripping from his brow to the mat in big, sick splatters.

He’s hurt.

Y/N’s lungs squeezed tight — the world narrowed to Cody’s labored breath, the way he tried to stand but immediately buckled again, jaw clamped to stop himself from screaming. Colby stalked him like a wolf circling a deer with a broken leg. Jon barked encouragement from the apron, Joe pounding the turnbuckle.

Don’t do it, Colby. Her hands curled around the rope. Don’t—

Colby hit the ropes, rebounded at full speed — going for the stomp to the back of Cody’s skull. One decisive end to a match turned real.

Y/N didn’t think. She reacted.

She vaulted the ropes in a single fluid motion, boots pounding the mat as she lunged. The crowd shrieked, a wall of white noise as she threw herself between them — arms spread wide, her body a living shield.

Colby skidded to a stop so fast he nearly ate canvas. He stared at her, chest heaving, murder flickering behind wide eyes. “Y/N. Move.” His voice was hoarse, low, but edged in steel.

She didn’t budge. Not an inch. Her breathing was ragged, shoulders trembling under the bright lights. She didn’t dare look back at Cody, didn’t trust herself not to lose her nerve.

Jon and Joe were shouting over the ropes — confusion, betrayal, a mix so thick you could taste it. Colby stepped closer, close enough she could see the tiny tremor in his clenched jaw. Rage softened for half a heartbeat when he noticed her ribcage shuddering like she couldn’t pull in enough air.

“Y/N…” He tried again, quieter this time, a plea buried under the fury. “Please. He’s nothing. He’s—”

She cut him off, voice low and savage. “He’s hurt.”

A fresh wave of chants crashed over them — half the arena booing, half screaming her name, torn in every direction. Behind her, she felt Cody shift — a hand brushed her lower back, feather-light. No smirk this time, no quip. Just a broken rasp: “Y/N, it’s okay. Let him finish it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut — once, hard enough to burn the tears back into her skull where they belonged. Not here. Not in front of them. She swallowed every emotion on her tongue, and when she opened her eyes, they were stone again. She stepped back slowly, uncoiling herself from the blast zone, but she didn’t look at any of them. Not Colby, not Cody, not Jon or Joe.

And then she did what none of them expected — she ducked under the ropes, dropped to the floor, and just… walked away. No fanfare, no explanation. Just her shoulders rigid, boots pounding the ramp until the shadows swallowed her whole.

The commentary table was a mess of disbelief: “Y/N just… abandoned The Shield?!”

“She protected Cody Rhodes — did we see that right?!”

“What does this mean for The Shield? What does this mean for Y/N?!”

In the ring, Cody slumped to one knee, watching her go with something raw flickering behind bruised eyes. Colby didn’t move right away. The hurt on his face cut deeper than any stomp ever could. Tonight, lines weren’t just blurred. They were erased. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t sure who she was fighting for anymore.

Y/N barely felt her boots hit the ground as she staggered through the maze of halls. Voices passed her left and right — crew, agents, security — but they were static under the deafening ringing in her ears. Her pulse drummed so loud it drowned out everything except the fire in her chest. Y/N shoved through the locker room door so hard it bounced off the cinderblock. For a second she just stood there, staring at her gear bag like it had personally betrayed her.

Then she broke.

Boots, wrist tape, shirts — she flung them across the benches. A bottle of water cracked open mid-flight, splattering the walls. She ripped a spare pair of gloves in half. Her travel hoodie got kicked so hard it slid under Jon’s bench.

She couldn’t contain herself, the panic rising in her chest. She swung blindly, her fist connecting with one of the metal lockers. She grunts out in pain, her hand instantly throbbing from the impact. Her knuckles are now bright red, no doubt a gnarly bruise getting ready to form on them.

She didn’t touch their gear though — not one thing. She couldn’t.

Her breath sawed in and out until her throat burned. And before the reality of the mess caught up to her, she bolted — pushing back through the door, down another hallway, ignoring the shocked faces of a few green rookies frozen in place.

She needed to get out. She needed space. Needed air. She had to find some sort of haven that quieted the noise in her mind. She didn’t know how her body knew where to take her, but somehow, she found her way outside the venue. The summer night slapped her in the face like ice water. She stomped past rows of rental cars and cargo trucks until she hit a back wall next to the loading dock.

Then she screamed. Raw, primal — a sound that dragged the fight out of her lungs and left her empty.

She slid down the wall, gear scraping the brick, until she sat in a heap. Hands tangled in her hair. Shoulders shaking, though she wouldn’t cry. She would not cry. She hated this. Hated feeling big feelings. Hated that it wasn’t just work anymore. Hated how alive he made her feel and how her boys — her family — looked at her like she’d stabbed them in the back for letting herself care.

Back inside, the guys were furious. Or maybe more confused. Jon was the first through the curtain, boots pounding the concrete as he practically shouldered it open. Joe shadowed him, his broad frame filling the hallway. Colby lagged just a step back — and for once, he was the quiet one. They’d been calling her name the whole way from the arena floor.

“Y/N! C’mon, sweetheart, answer us!” Jon’s voice bounced off the cinderblock walls, rougher than he meant it to be.

“Y/N, you better not be hiding just to mess with us,” Joe grumbled, but the tension in his shoulders said he didn’t believe it even as he said it.

Colby didn’t call out. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack open like glass. They hit the locker room door in near unison — Jon wrenching it open so hard the handle banged the wall. “Y/N—?”

But the word died in his throat. The room was empty — but it was anything but quiet. Her absence howled louder than any shout could have. Her gear bag lay gutted on the bench, its contents flung in wild arcs like a storm had ripped through. Wrist tape shredded into curls on the floor. A half-full water bottle leaking into a dark stain on the concrete. One boot flung so far it nearly lodged under the lockers.

Colby stood frozen in the doorway, eyes tracking the mess like he was seeing it frame by frame — an unspooling of her mind they’d never been allowed to witness.

“Jesus,” Joe whispered, bending to pick up a tangle of ring gear. It dripped water from where she’d hurled it. He squeezed the fabric, knuckles white. “She’s never… not her. She doesn’t lose it. Not like this.”

Jon turned a slow circle, breathing like he’d run a mile flat out. That’s when he notices the caved in locker. “This ain’t just mad. This is— it’s panic. It’s her head cracking open, man. We did this.”

Colby stepped inside last. His boots crushed a torn wrist wrap underfoot. He didn’t move to pick it up — just stared at it, jaw working behind clenched teeth. He finally rasped, “She doesn’t do cages. She never has. And we locked her in one, expecting her to pick sides like some damn trophy.”

Joe slammed a hand to the row of lockers, the metal clanging under his palm. “She’s on her own right now. Panicked. We promised we’d never let that happen again—”

Jon turned, stabbing a finger toward the door, voice tight with command. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? She’s ours. We find her. Now.”

Joe nodded once, hard, already halfway out the door. Colby lingered just a moment longer, eyes flicking to the chaos she’d left behind. Quietly, to himself more than the others, he muttered, “We fix this. No matter what it costs.”

Then he turned on his heel, boots echoing in step with the other two as they stormed back into the maze of hallways — calling her name into every shadow, every echo, ready to tear the whole building apart if that’s what it took to bring her home again.

Y/N’s head stayed buried in her arms, forehead pressed hard to her knees. She’d been sitting on that freezing concrete for what felt like forever, just letting the cold bite at her back and the rough wall scrape her shoulders through her shirt. She hated how stupidly dramatic she felt. She was a professional. A fighter. And here she was, choking on air because her world suddenly didn’t make sense anymore.

When the arena door creaked open, she didn’t lift her head. Not at first. Heavy steps, slower than usual. A low grunt. She knew that sound by now — the subtle wince Cody tried to hide every time he had a new bruise to nurse. A soft thud beside her. He dropped down with a pained exhale, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned against the same wall. She felt the heat of him before she dared to look.

When she did, her chest squeezed painfully.

A fresh split in his brow leaked a thin line of dried blood toward his temple. His lip was purple and cracked. He was cradling a half-melted ice pack against the worst of the swelling in his jaw. But his eyes — those infuriating, stupidly kind eyes — were locked on her.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice sanded raw but careful. “You okay?”

She let out an unsteady laugh, instantly annoyed at how shaky it came out. “Rhodes, you look like a horror movie and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

He tried to smile, winced when it tugged the cut on his lip. “Well… you look like you’ve been to war. So, even trade.”

She snorted, wiped her face with her sleeve. “Shut up.”

He leaned in just a fraction, trying to read her the way he always did. “Y/N… talk to me.”

She didn’t. Instead, she yanked the ice pack from his hand, ignoring his small protest. She scooted closer, knees pressed against his thigh, and carefully pressed the ice to his bruised cheek.

“Hold still, you big baby,” she muttered.

His eyes fluttered shut under her touch. When they opened again, they dropped to her hands — to the knuckles she didn’t realize were still red and raw from where she’d smashed them into a locker.

He cursed under his breath, reached up to take her wrist in his calloused fingers. “You did this?”

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. His thumb ghosted over the split skin, so gentle it made her throat burn. “I’m fine,” she lied, voice small.

He laughed, humorless and thick with something deeper. “You gotta stop saying that word when it’s the biggest lie you tell people.”

“Don’t—” she breathed, but he cut her off.

“I mean it. I never wanted you in the middle. I swear to God. You shouldn’t have to pick sides — not with them, not with me, not for anyone. You deserve better than that. Better than me.”

“Stop it—”

“No. I will never be the reason you break your damn hand on a locker ever again, you hear me?” His voice cracked, low but urgent. He pressed her bruised knuckles to his chest, right over the steady drum of his heart. “You’re worth so much more than this stupid shit. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to stand alone tonight.”

Her eyes stung — but she refused to let tears fall. Instead, she scoffed, trying to wrap herself back in sarcasm like armor. “Damn it, Rhodes. Why do you gotta be nice now? You were easier to hate when you were an arrogant bastard.”

His mouth twitched. “Still an arrogant bastard. Just your favorite one now, apparently.”

She huffed a tiny laugh, despite herself — and that laugh broke her guard wide open. She leaned in, her free hand drifting up to cup his battered cheek. Her thumb brushed over his eyebrow, careful not to reopen the cut. His breath hitched. And before she could stop herself — before she could talk herself out of it — she kissed him. Soft, deliberate, more honest than any word she’d spoken in weeks.

He stilled, surprise flaring bright in his eyes — then melted into her, his hand sliding to her hip, tugging her closer until there was no air left between them but the taste of bruised lips and old secrets.

When they broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing too fast. He whispered, voice hoarse but certain, “If you want me to stop... if you want me gone... just say it. I swear to you, Y/N, I’ll never be the reason you feel like this again.”

She swallowed, fingertips brushing the rough line of his jaw. “Don’t you dare go anywhere.”

Neither of them noticed the quiet figures standing just inside the door they’d left ajar. Jon, Joe, and Colby stood frozen — guilt, relief, and something like wonder flickering in their eyes as they watched their girl wrapped up in the last man they’d ever wanted for her. But watching the way she cradled Cody’s face, the way he held her like something fragile but fierce — they finally saw it for what it was.

Joe’s voice broke the silence first, low and certain: “She doesn't need saving from him.”

Jon nodded, lips twitching in the ghost of a grin. “She just needs us to remember she’s stronger than all of us put together.”

Colby didn’t say a word. He just watched her laugh softly when Cody cracked some quiet, dumb joke. And for the first time in a long time, he realized: maybe the best way to protect her was to let her have something — someone — just for herself. And maybe, they’d finally help her smile the way she used to.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Y/N helped Cody to his feet, the two of them slowly making their way back inside. He held her hand gently, rubbing the bruised knuckles she’s sporting as softly as he could. They walk through the door together, Y/N hearing her heart pounding loudly despite having calmed down. She knew she had to talk to them. They would have found what she did to the locker room by now, and are no doubt waiting for some sort of explanation about what happened.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Cody whispers. “I’m right behind you.”

Y/N smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They reach the locker room door and she slowly pushes it open, the hinges creaking as always when she does. As she expected, Jon, Joe, and Colby are all standing there waiting for her. But what she wasn’t expecting was to see all of her stuff cleaned up.

Every piece of evidence that showed how badly she crashed out was gone. Her bag was put together nicely on the bench, all three boys looking as if they just got caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

“Hey…” Y/N says softly, Cody following behind her. He doesn’t fully step into the space, not wanting to infiltrate what they consider their safe haven. “Um, I’m assuming you saw all of…” She gestures around to the whole room, “that.”

“You mean you going all hulk smash on your stuff?” Jon says with a hint of sarcasm. “Yeah, we saw.”

“How’s your hand?” Colby asks, nodding towards the locker with an Y/N sized fist indent.

Y/N swallows thickly, shrugging. “Sore,” she answers. “It’s not as bad as when I punched you in the face though,” she nods over to Joe.

He huffs out what sounds like a laugh, “Yeah, well, a jaw of steel will do that.”

Y/N glances back at Cody briefly, trying to find the right thing to say. He sends her that small grin that has managed to worm its way into her head, despite her trying hard to keep it out. She exhales, easing her nerves before facing her family. “Listen guys, I’m–”

“If you’re gonna apologize, you can save it,” Jon cuts her off.

Y/N feels her heart drop. She knew they’d probably be mad, but she wasn’t expecting him to not even hear her out. Does this mean they’re gonna excommunicate her? Vince probably would have them wait to do it in front of a camera for drama purposes. Y/N can feel the anxieties returning as she thinks about being sent away by them. The boys could clearly see her internal struggle and they all share a similar look.

That’s when Colby steps forward, “Because if anyone should say sorry, it’s us.”

Y/N blinks, “What?”

“We put you in a bad position,” Joe says, his voice rumbling through the locker room. “You had to do all of this because we got into a fight. We shouldn’t have been surprised when you and Rhodes ended up being buddies after spending months on the road together,” he glares slightly in Cody’s direction, his protectiveness still not fading. “We shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to choose.”

Y/N’s mouth opened but nothing came out. She looked between them, eyes flicking from Colby to Jon to Joe, trying to process that they were actually apologizing. Jon cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. “You’ve always had our backs. Even when we didn’t deserve it. Tonight just… proved that we need to do better by you.”

Joe crossed his arms but his voice was softer than usual. “You’re our sister. Doesn’t matter what storyline Vince cooks up. Doesn’t matter what suit wants what pop. You don’t owe us your sanity to keep this family glued together.”

Colby’s jaw flexed. He was the last to look her dead in the eye, stepping a little closer. “We got so busy fighting for you, we forgot you can fight for yourself. Hell — you’ve been doing it longer than any of us.”

Y/N sniffed — and immediately scowled when Colby looked like he might say something about it. She jabbed him lightly in the ribs with her knuckles. “If you tell anyone I almost cried, I’m throwing you through the announce table next week.”

Colby cracked a tiny grin, his shoulders easing for the first time all night. “Fair deal.”

Jon pulled her into his chest first. No big speech — just a tight squeeze that knocked the breath out of her lungs for half a second. She hid her face in his shirt, muttering something about him smelling like cheap soap and bad decisions. Joe looped an arm around both of them next, pressing his forehead to hers for a second. “We clean up your messes. You clean up ours. Same as always, yeah?”

She nodded, pretending her eyes weren’t wet. “Yeah.”

Colby waited until she pulled back, then wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, his chin hooking over her head like he’d done a thousand times before. “We love you. Even if you have trash taste in company.” He cut his eyes at Cody, who raised an eyebrow but stayed silent — letting them have this. Finally, Colby stepped back just enough to jab a finger in Cody’s direction. “You. Hurt her? Blink wrong at her? You won’t see us coming, Rhodes.”

Jon clapped a heavy hand on Cody’s shoulder for emphasis. “We mean that in the warmest, most brotherly way possible.”

Cody smirked, even though it tugged at his split lip. He stepped forward, extending a hand to Colby first. “Fair enough. She’s worth every threat.”

Colby studied him for a beat that felt like a year, then gripped his hand hard enough to crack bones. Cody didn’t flinch — which, admittedly, earned him a flicker of respect he’d never get them to say out loud. He turned to Joe and Jon next, offering the same handshake — an unspoken promise they didn’t have to spell out in words. He’d never be the reason she felt alone again.

Y/N cleared her throat when the testosterone standoff started dragging. “Alright, enough. If we stand here any longer, someone’s gonna start chest-bumping someone and then I’m gonna have to call HR.”

She nudged Cody’s side with her elbow. “Come on, tough guy. Let’s get out of here before they decide to pull you into another three-on-one ‘lesson’ about respecting me.”

Cody chuckled, leaning down just enough so only she could hear, “If they try, I’ll just hide behind you.”

“Damn right you will.” She shoved his chest, careful of the bruises. She turned back to her boys, pointing two fingers at her own eyes, then at each of them in turn. “I’m still mad you made me punch a locker. Next time, we talk out whatever issues we have, okay?”

Jon winked. Joe gave her shoulder a squeeze. Colby only rolled his eyes. “Go before we change our minds and duct tape Rhodes to a forklift.”

She flipped them all off playfully and stepped out the door, Cody trailing a step behind her — close enough that his fingertips brushed hers once they were in the hall. They walked in silence for a few beats until she leaned into his side, voice quieter now that it was just them. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?” He glanced down, brow furrowing gently.

“For… tonight. For not making me feel stupid about… everything. For sticking by me when you didn’t have to.”

Cody stopped walking, tugged her gently until she was facing him under the dim flicker of an old hallway light. He ran his thumb over her knuckles again, soft as the breeze. “I’d stand behind you, beside you… hell, in front of you if you let me. You don’t owe me a damn thing, Y/N. But I swear to God — I’ll earn whatever piece of you you give me.”

She huffed, embarrassed by how warm her chest went at that. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah.” His grin was crooked, half-swollen. “But you like me anyway.”

She didn’t answer. She just rose up, cupped his jaw gentle as glass, and kissed him again. Slow. Sure. Hers. When she pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together, breathless but laughing softly. “You keep doing that, sweetheart, and your boys are gonna break every rib I’ve got left.”

She smirked, tapping his lips with her finger. “Then don’t piss me off and maybe I’ll protect you again.”

His laughter echoed down the hall as she tugged him forward, hand in hand — both of them a little battered, but lighter than they’d felt in months.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

13 years later…

Y/N_WWE

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tagged: americannightmarecody

Y/N_WWE: 13 years ago, I told myself I hated him. 8 years ago, I promised in front of a bunch of people (and one extremely judgmental priest) that I’d love him forever. Tonight, he still snores in my ear, still steals my fries, still calls me ‘sweetheart’ when he wants something — and I wouldn’t change a single second. People always ask how we’ve made it work this long in a world where nothing lasts. I think it’s simple: he lets me be exactly who I am, even when I’m a mess. And somehow, after all these years, he still looks at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to him (which I am, obviously). Here’s to more late-night road trips, more stolen pizza slices, more me pretending I don’t love him when he leaves his boots in the hallway. Happy 8 years married, americannightmarecody — thank you for loving every sharp edge and soft part of me. You’re my favorite plot twist. ❤️🤍💙

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americannightmarecody: You’ll always be my favorite part of the story. Thanks for choosing me, even when I snore. Happy anniversary, sweetheart. ❤️

wwerollins: She did hate him. This is 100% true. Happy for you both though. 😂🖤

jonmoxley: Shocked you two didn’t burn the house down by now. Congrats, ya weirdos.

natbynature: Love like this makes my heart so full. Happy anniversary, you two deserve every bit of it. 🥹❤️

mikethemiz: Gross. But also adorable. Happy anniversary! 😂

trishstratuscom: Two legends. One love. Happy anniversary!

wrestlegirlie13: THEY ARE THE BLUEPRINT. 😭❤️

heelqueen4eva: This is the only real love story I trust tbh.

wwemomentsdaily: Not me crying at work, BYE 😭😭😭

indypunkprincess: The fact that y’all lasted thru all the chaos >>> #goals

y/nfanclubofficial: We been knew she was gonna marry him since 2012 😌 #powercouple

#female reader #love story #world wrestling entertainment #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes #the shield #roman reigns #seth rollins #dean ambrose

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