I am a fandom whore.

kristin. thirty two years of age. nj.

[onlyangel4]

i remember everything about you. ethan page. language of love series

softdark!ethan page x sunshine!reader

warnings: ethan is obsessed but in like a cute way. loss of a childhood dog (because i can't write anything without breaking someone's heart)

acts of service

The first thing you noticed when you stepped through the loading bay doors was the smell. Fresh coffee. Someone had already started making popcorn somewhere near production. The faint scent of hairspray drifted from the direction of hair and make-up, home. Every Monday somehow smelled exactly the same. A grin spread across your face as you adjusted the strap of your overnight bag and bounced further into the arena. "Morning!" A referee returning from Gorilla waved back. One of the camera operators called your name. Someone from production wished you luck for your backstage interview later that afternoon. You greeted every single one of them with the same bright smile. You loved Mondays. Even after years with WWE, walking into an arena still felt exciting. Like the first day of school, except everyone wore championship belts instead of backpacks.

"Morning, sunshine." You turned at the familiar voice. Ethan leaned casually against one of the production crates, hands tucked into the pockets of his black hoodie. Well, one hand was. The other held a cardboard coffee tray. Your favourite coffee. A paper bag from the little café outside the hotel. Your laminated backstage schedule and your credentials clipped neatly to the top. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling even wider. "There you are!" You crossed the remaining distance in quick steps before wrapping your arms around his neck. He caught you automatically, one arm settling comfortably around your waist while somehow managing not to spill either coffee. "Morning, baby." His voice softened in a way it only ever seemed to around you. He kissed your forehead first. Then the tip of your nose. Finally your lips. Just a gentle, lingering kiss that made you smile against him. "You've been here ages." "I got here early." "You always get here early." "I know." You pulled back just enough to notice everything balanced in his hands. "You brought breakfast." "You skipped dinner." Your eyebrows lifted. "I did?" "You got distracted helping the social team edit videos." "I did." He smiled. "So I brought breakfast."

He held the paper bag out towards you. Warm blueberry muffin. Greek yoghurt with honey. The little pot of strawberries you always picked the fruit out of first. Even the tiny wooden spoon. You looked up at him. "You remembered strawberries." "You always eat those first." "You notice everything." "I try." Your heart positively melted. "I love you." "I know." He said it so naturally, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to betray how happy those three words still made him. "I love you too." You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you." "You don't have to thank me." "I know." You accepted your coffee instead. "Oh! cinnamon!" "I remembered." "You always remember."

"Yo!" The unmistakable voice of Jey Uso echoed down the corridor before you even saw him. He wandered over with that permanently amused grin plastered across his face. "You two disgust me." You gasped dramatically. "We've literally said hello." "Exactly." He pointed accusingly between the two of you. "Whole Disney movie every Monday." "It was one kiss." "It was like four kisses." "I was saying good morning." "You were saying good morning for about five business days." You laughed. "You jealous?" "Nah." He looked at Ethan. "I'm judging." Ethan simply smiled. "I've survived worse."

Jey's eyes dropped to everything Ethan was carrying. "You carrying her bag too?" Ethan looked down. The overnight bag hanging comfortably from his shoulder. "Yeah." Jey blinked. "She got arms?" You immediately burst into laughter. "I do actually." Ethan looked genuinely confused by the question. "I know." Jey waited. "...Then why?" Ethan shrugged lightly. "Because she doesn't have to." Silence. Jey stared at him for a second before slowly looking at you. "You hear this man?" You were too busy smiling at your boyfriend to notice the look on Jey's face. "What?" "He's carrying your whole life." "I didn't ask him to."

You looked back at Ethan. "You don't have to carry my bag, you know." "I know." "You always do. You'll end up with back problems." He smiled. "I'll risk it." You rolled your eyes fondly before reaching over to straighten the hood of his sweatshirt where it had folded awkwardly beneath the strap of your bag. "You are ridiculous." Jey looked between the two of you again. "...Y'all are weird." "We're adorable." "You weird."

The three of you walked further backstage together. Well you and Jey walked. Ethan matched your pace exactly, coffee tray balanced effortlessly in one hand while your overnight bag remained slung over his shoulder. Halfway down the corridor you suddenly stopped. "Oh!" Both men stopped immediately. "What?" You looked between them. "...Did I leave my phone in the hotel room?" Jey sighed dramatically. "You don't know?" "I genuinely can't remember." You started rummaging through the pockets of your hoodie. Nothing. Your jeans. Nothing. You frowned. "Oh no" Ethan quietly reached into the front pocket of your overnight bag. "You put it in here." He handed it to you. You blinked. "I did?" "You asked me to." "When?" "This morning." You thought for a moment. "...I have absolutely no memory of that." "I know."  You laughed, shaking your head before slipping the phone into your hoodie pocket. "See?" You nudged Jey. "This is why I keep him around." Ethan's smile softened. "As if I'd let you lose it." "You spoil me." "I know." "And I love it." "I know." Jey groaned loud enough to make two members of production look over. "I can't. You two are givin' me cavities."

A few minutes later you reached the women's locker room. You took your coffee from Ethan before turning towards the door. Then paused. "Oh." "What?" You looked sheepishly back at him. "...Can I have my bag?" Without a word, Ethan slipped it carefully from his shoulder and handed it over. You accepted it with a grin before giving him one last quick kiss. "I'll come find you after hair and make-up." "I'll be in production." "I know." "If anything changes—" "You'll text me." He smiled. "I already printed the updated schedule." You laughed. "Of course you did." He watched you disappear into the locker room before finally turning away himself. The smile never quite left his face. Across the corridor, Jey watched the whole exchange unfold with folded arms. "Page." Ethan looked over. "Hm?" "You know" Jey nodded towards the locker room door. "I ain't never seen somebody so happy to play personal assistant." For the first time that morning, Ethan's smile changed. Not bigger. Not smaller. Just quieter. More certain. "I like taking care of her." There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in his voice. No embarrassment. No defensiveness. Just simple, unwavering certainty. Jey studied him for another moment before shaking his head with a chuckle. ".You somethin' else, man." Ethan only glanced once more towards the locker room door. Making sure you'd gone inside safely. Only then did he continue down the corridor. Completely content. After all, you'd arrived, you'd eaten breakfast, you had your coffee, your phone hadn't been forgotten, your schedule was already sorted. Everything you needed for the day had been taken care of. Exactly as it should be.

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The women's locker room had somehow become louder in the fifteen minutes since you'd walked in. Music played from someone's speaker in the corner, hairdryers whirred. Maxxine was enthusiastically explaining a new TikTok trend to Lyra, who looked equal parts intrigued and horrified. Bayley was trying and failing to drink her coffee before it went cold. You dropped your overnight bag beside your locker with a satisfied sigh. "I made it." Lyra looked over. "Barely." "I was exactly on time." "You were." She nodded towards the corridor. "Because your boyfriend practically escorted you to the door." You laughed. "He didn't escort me." "He absolutely did." "He walked me here." "Same thing." You opened your mouth to argue before deciding, She wasn't entirely wrong. "Maybe a little." Maxxine smiled over at you. "It's cute." "It is cute." "You've got your own little routine." You smiled to yourself as you opened your bag. "We do."

You reached inside. Your make-up bag. Notebook. Wallet. Portable charger. Hairbrush. Everything sat perfectly organised inside. You smiled. "Ethan packed my bag again." Maxxine blinked. "He packed your bag?" "Mhm." Lyra looked up from tying her boots. "He does that every week?" "Oh yeah." You sounded completely matter-of-fact. "If I pack it, I always forget something." "So he just" You shrugged. "does it." You smiled as you unzipped the front pocket. "My lip balm's even in the little side pouch." "You sound impressed." "I am." "He knows where everything goes better than I do." Lyra laughed. "I don't know whether that's adorable..." She paused. "...or slightly concerning." You grinned. "I vote adorable."

Hair and make-up came and went in a blur. By the time you wandered back towards your locker almost an hour later, you'd somehow accumulated three bottles of water, two packets of sweets from catering and a tiny crocheted frog that one of the production assistants had insisted on giving you. You held the frog up proudly. "Look!" Maxxine smiled immediately. "Oh my gosh." "It's tiny." "I know!" "It has a little hat!" "I know!" You carefully placed it on top of your bag. "He needs a name." Lyra glanced over. "You've known him twelve seconds." "But he deserves an identity." "You are impossible." "I've accepted that."

Your phone buzzed.

Ethan Production meeting finished early. Outside in five? You smiled without thinking.

You See you in five Lyra noticed immediately. "Ethan?" You laughed as you slipped your phone into your hoodie pocket. "I'll be back in a bit."

True to his word, Ethan was already waiting outside the locker room. One coffee in each hand. He smiled the second he saw you. He kissed your temple before handing over your coffee. "Cinnamon." "You remembered." "I always remember." You took a grateful sip. "It's still hot." "I timed it." "You timed my coffee?" "I know how long it takes you to finish hair and make-up." You blinked. "...You actually timed it." "So it'd still be warm." Your heart did that ridiculous little flip it always seemed to do around him. "You are unbelievable." You slipped your free hand into his. "I missed you." He smiled. "It was forty-eight minutes." "I know. I still missed you." "I missed you too."

The two of you wandered slowly through the backstage corridors, talking about absolutely nothing. A funny sign you'd spotted in the loading bay. A dog video Ethan had seen online that morning. Whether the tiny crocheted frog suited the name Kevin. It was wonderfully ordinary. Comfortable. Until "Oh!" You stopped walking. "What?" "My notebook." You looked down at yourself. "I left it in the locker room." "You need it now?" "Mhm." "I've got my interview with Cathy in twenty minutes." Before you'd even finished speaking, Ethan had already turned around. "I'll get it." You reached for his sleeve. "Babe, it's okay. I can go. I literally just forgot it." "I know but let me look after you." He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll be two minutes." Before you could protest again, he'd disappeared back down the corridor. You sighed fondly. "He never lets me do anything."

"You know..." The voice beside you made you jump. Sami had somehow appeared carrying a protein shake. "I've noticed something." You smiled. "Morning, Sami." "Morning." He nodded in the direction Ethan had disappeared. "He always does that." "What?" "You barely finish saying you've forgotten something..." He snapped his fingers. "...and he's already fixing it." You laughed softly. "I know." "It must be nice." "It is." You meant it. Completely. Sami smiled. "I'm glad." But there was something thoughtful behind his eyes. Something he didn't quite voice. Instead he simply asked, "So..." He took a sip of his drink. "...when was the last time you actually had to solve one of those little problems yourself?" You frowned. "I don't know." You genuinely couldn't remember.

Before you had time to think any harder about it, Ethan was already walking back towards you. Your notebook tucked neatly under one arm. "You also left your pen." He held that out too. You stared. "I didn't even realise." You accepted both with a sheepish smile. "You are actually magic." "No." His voice was quiet. "I just pay attention." Without thinking, you leaned up and kissed him properly this time. Not a quick peck. A soft, lingering kiss that made him smile against your lips. "Thank you." "You don't have to thank me." "I know but I like to."

As the two of you walked away towards your interview, Sami remained where he was. Bayley joined him a moment later, folding her arms. "You thinking the same thing I am?" Sami looked after the two of you. Ethan had unconsciously matched your pace again. Your coffee had somehow migrated into his free hand while his other rested lightly against the small of your back as he guided you around a stack of production crates. He wasn't steering you. He was simply there. Always there. Sami exhaled slowly. "He's a good boyfriend." Bayley nodded. "He is." A beat of silence. Then she added quietly, "I just don't think she realises how much he does for her." Sami's eyes followed Ethan as he reached over and, without interrupting your conversation, gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from where it had caught on the strap of your visitor's pass. You didn't even seem to notice he'd done it. You just kept talking, smiling up at him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that was exactly what worried them.

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The hotel room was quiet. The curtains had only just begun to let the early morning sunlight creep through the gaps, painting soft golden lines across the carpet. It was peaceful. Still. The only sound came from the faint hum of the air conditioning and your slow, even breathing from the bed behind him. Ethan smiled to himself. You never woke up quietly. Not once. Every morning began exactly the same, you'd roll over, bury your face back into the pillow, mumble something completely unintelligible, then insist you weren't tired while falling asleep again almost immediately. He'd learnt the routine months ago. Just like he'd learnt all the others.

Without thinking, he reached for your phone on the bedside table, twenty-three percent. Too low. He plugged it into the charger before setting it back exactly where you'd left it. The screen lit up briefly. A picture of the two of you from the previous week's Raw filled the lock screen. You were laughing so hard your eyes were closed, his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. He couldn't remember what had made you laugh. He just remembered wanting to hear it again. His smile softened. Cute.

Next job was water. Your bottle from the night before sat almost empty. He quietly carried it into the bathroom, emptied what little remained and refilled it with fresh cold water before placing it back beside your side of the bed. Exactly where your hand would reach for it when you woke up. You always drank water before coffee. Unless you forgot. Which happened fairly often. He'd rather you didn't.

The wardrobe door opened without a sound. Today's outfit already hung neatly together. The oversized cream hoodie you'd mentioned wanting to wear the night before, your favourite black cargos, the trainers you'd spent ten minutes searching for before he'd remembered you'd left them by the hotel door, matching socks, even the little silver earrings shaped like stars that always seemed to find their way into the washing machine somehow. He set them carefully on the bedside table. Easy. Everything together. You wouldn't have to search.

The coffee machine clicked quietly as it finished brewing. He poured your coffee into the travel cup you'd brought from home. Oat milk, one sugar, extra cinnamon. Always extra cinnamon. He smiled faintly. You'd once joked that if someone forgot the cinnamon, they didn't really love you. You'd been laughing. He hadn't. He'd made a point of never forgetting it again.

The bed shifted behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. You hadn't woken. You'd simply rolled closer to his side of the bed, reaching instinctively towards the space he'd left behind. His chest tightened. For a second, he simply stood there watching you. Even asleep. you looked peaceful, safe. Good. He crossed the room quietly before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. The movement was enough to make you stir. A sleepy little noise escaped you. "Babe?" "I'm here." Your eyes barely opened. "You got up." "Mhm." "What time is it?" "Too early." You smiled without opening your eyes properly. "M'kay." You reached blindly for him. He chuckled softly before taking your hand. Immediately you relaxed again. "There you are" "I'm here." "I know" Your thumb lazily brushed across the back of his hand. "You always are" His heart swelled. Always. That was the idea.

Another few minutes passed before you finally opened one eye. "Morning." "Morning." You smiled sleepily. "You look pretty." He laughed quietly. "I've literally just woken up." "I know." "You're biased." "I know." You pushed yourself upright with an exaggerated groan before immediately reaching for your water bottle. "Cold." "I refilled it." "Thank you." A long drink. Followed by a content little sigh. "You're amazing." His eyes never left you. "I'm glad."

You shuffled out of bed, still rubbing sleep from your eyes. Immediately spotting your outfit waiting for you. "Oh." You looked back at him. "You picked today's clothes." "You said you wanted to wear the cream hoodie." You laughed softly. "I swear you remember everything." He shrugged. "I remember you." Those four words landed with far more weight than he intended. Your entire expression softened. You crossed the room without another word and wrapped your arms around his waist. "I love you." He rested his chin lightly on top of your head. "I love you too." You stayed there for another few moments, simply enjoying the quiet before the chaos of another Monday began. Then you pulled back just enough to smile up at him. "Seriously you make my life so much easier." His smile was small. Content. Exactly the kind of smile someone wore after hearing they'd done a good job. "Good." You blinked. "What?" "I want it to be easy." You reached up to smooth an imaginary crease from the front of his T-shirt. "It doesn't have to be your job to look after me all the time." "I know." "You already do so much." "I know." "So why?" The question seemed to genuinely surprise him. He looked at you for a long moment before answering, his voice as calm and certain as ever. "Because every minute you spend looking for your charger" He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "or your shoes" Another tiny smile. "or wondering if you've remembered everything" His thumb brushed softly across your cheek. "is a minute you could've spent smiling instead." Silence settled between you. Not uncomfortable. Just quiet. You looked at him with that familiar warmth in your eyes, the kind that always made him feel like he'd done something right. Then you leaned up onto your tiptoes and kissed him, slow and affectionate. When you pulled away, you smiled. "I really, really love you." Ethan smiled back just as softly. "I know." Because in his mind, there was nothing strange about any of it. Loving you meant taking care of you. Taking care of you meant noticing the little things. And noticing the little things meant you never had to carry them alone. To him it was the simplest thing in the world.

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The evening air was cool against your skin as you stepped out through the arena doors after the show. Raw had finally wrapped. The crowd was beginning to thin, though a small group of dedicated fans still waited patiently behind the barricades near the talent exit, hoping for photos or autographs before everyone headed back to the hotel. You smiled the second you spotted them. "Oh!" Ethan looked over. "They're still here." "There aren't many." "There are enough." You squeezed his hand. "Can we go say hello?" He looked towards the fans. Then back at you. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I thought you'd ask." You laughed. "I'll be quick." "You don't have to rush."

The moment the fans realised you'd walked over, excited chatter broke out. "Y/N!" "Can we get a picture?" "I loved your match!" "You looked amazing tonight!" You beamed. "Hi, guys!" You moved slowly down the barricade, making sure nobody felt skipped. You signed programmes. Posed for selfies. Accepted a friendship bracelet from a little girl wearing one of your T-shirts. "Oh my goodness..." You crouched down slightly to admire it. "You made this?" The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "I made one for you too!" Your face immediately softened. "You made me one?" She carefully tied the colourful bracelet around your wrist. Pink. Yellow. Little white beads spelling your name. You admired it dramatically. "I think this might be my new favourite thing." The little girl giggled. Her mum smiled. "She's been making those all week." "Well" You held your wrist up proudly. "I'm never taking it off."

A few feet away, Ethan watched quietly. Hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He didn't interrupt. Didn't hover. He simply stayed close enough that if you looked around he'd be there. Exactly where you expected him. You'd almost reached the end of the line when a man stepped forward. He looked to be somewhere in his forties. Wearing an old WWE hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. "Hey."

You smiled politely. "Hi!" "Can I get a selfie?" "Of course." You stepped beside him, lifting his phone. Click. "There you go." Instead of moving aside He stayed exactly where he was. "Actually..." He smiled. "Can we do another one?" "Oh." You nodded. "Sure." Another photo. "There." "One more?" You laughed politely. "Third time lucky?" He moved closer this time. Close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. You instinctively shifted half a step away. He simply followed. "You smell nice." Your smile faltered. Just for a fraction of a second. "Thank you." "What's that perfume?" "Oh..." You laughed awkwardly. "I honestly couldn't tell you." He chuckled. "I'll figure it out."

Something about the way he said it made a tiny knot form in your stomach. You looked past him. The rest of the line had almost disappeared. Most of the other fans had started making their way home. "It's getting late," you said gently. "I should probably" "You heading back to the hotel?" The question stopped you. "Excuse me?" "I've seen the buses." He smiled again. "I know where they park." The knot tightened. You forced another polite smile. "Well I've got to get going." "You always leave through this exit?" You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. For the first time all evening you didn't quite know what to say.

A familiar warmth settled against your back. Strong. Steady. Comforting. An arm wrapped lightly around your waist. Not possessive, protective. You didn't even have to look up. Your shoulders relaxed instantly. Ethan's voice was calm. Almost cheerful. "I've been looking everywhere for you." You leaned into him without thinking. "There was still a little queue." "I saw." He smiled down at you before looking back at the man. His expression remained perfectly pleasant. "Thank you for supporting her." The man looked between the two of you. "Oh. I was just talking." "I know." Ethan's smile never wavered. "We appreciate everyone who comes out." There was something about the way he said we that made it abundantly clear the conversation was over. The man hesitated. Then finally stepped backwards. "Right." "Have a good night." "You too."

Ethan didn't look away until the man had disappeared into the car park. Only then did he turn back towards you. "You okay?" You blinked. Then laughed quietly. "Yeah." "You sure?" "Mhm." You frowned thoughtfully. "He was just a little..." You searched for the word. "...enthusiastic." Ethan's thumb gently rubbed against your side where his hand still rested. "You looked uncomfortable." "Did I?" "You smiled differently." You blinked. "I did?" He nodded once. "The real one doesn't reach your eyes when you're trying to be polite." You stared at him for a second. Then smiled. A proper smile this time. "You know me too well." "I know." He leaned down to kiss your forehead. "C'mon." "I've got your hoodie in the car." "My hoodie?" "You said you'd be cold after the show." You squeezed his hand affectionately. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Ethan glanced down at your intertwined fingers. His expression softened. "You won't have to." You smiled, hearing nothing but love in his voice.

Behind you, unnoticed, Rhea had just stepped out of the arena with Lyra. She'd caught only the last few moments, the way Ethan had appeared almost instantly, the way your shoulders had visibly relaxed the second he touched you, and the way the fan had backed off without another word. She watched the pair of you walk towards the waiting rental cars. "Hm." Lyra looked over. "What?" Rhea kept her eyes on Ethan. "Nothing." But she wasn't convinced it was nothing. Because Ethan hadn't rushed over when the fan got close. He'd walked. Slowly, calmly. As though he'd already decided exactly how the conversation was going to end. And somehow it had.

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Three days later, the Raw roster found themselves scattered throughout the departures terminal at Chicago O'Hare. Some people had headphones on. Others were still half-asleep, clutching coffee cups like lifelines. Jey and Sami were locked in an argument over whether airport breakfasts were ever worth the price. Maxxine was trying to convince Lyra to take photos in one of the souvenir shops. You, on the other hand had wandered off. Again.

"Where's Y/N?" Jey looked around the seating area. Sami didn't even lift his head from his book. "Gift shop." "You know that?" "She's been gone six minutes." "So?" "So she found something shiny." Jey laughed. "Fair."

Sure enough, you stood halfway down one of the little airport shops, completely enchanted by a display of plush toys. "There you are." You looked over your shoulder, smiling the second you spotted Ethan. "Babe." "You disappeared." "I texted you." "You sent me a duck emoji." "I was giving you clues." He chuckled, stopping beside you. "You were." You turned back to the display. "Look." He followed your gaze. Nestled between teddy bears and keyrings sat a tiny plush Highland cow. It wore a little tartan scarf around its neck. Its fluffy fringe completely covered its eyes. You picked it up carefully. "Oh my goodness he's adorable." Ethan watched the way your entire face lit up. You turned the toy over in your hands. "You've got little horns." Your thumb brushed gently over one of them. "And fluffy ears." You smiled to yourself. "I love him." "You should get him." You looked at the price tag. "Twenty-two dollars?" You pulled a face. "I don't love him that much." Ethan smiled faintly. "No?" "I can't justify twenty-two dollars on a tiny cow." "You've spent more on coffee." "That's different." "How?" "Coffee is essential." "And this isn't?" You laughed. "It absolutely isn't." Reluctantly, you placed the plush back onto the shelf. "Bye, little guy." Ethan watched you wave at it. Actually wave. Then you sighed dramatically before turning away. "C'mon we've got a flight to catch."

Twenty minutes later, you were curled up in one of the airport seats waiting to board. Your head rested comfortably against Ethan's shoulder while you scrolled aimlessly through videos on your phone. Jey wandered over carrying two overpriced coffees. "Yo." You looked up. "Hi." He nodded towards the gift shop. "You buy the cow?" You gasped dramatically. "You knew about the cow?" "Whole terminal knew about the cow." "I loved him." "So why ain't he here?" "He was twenty-two dollars." Jey nodded solemnly. "That's criminal." "Exactly." "I hope he finds a good home." "You mourning a stuffed animal?" "I barely knew him" You sighed. "but yes." Jey laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. Ethan stayed quiet beside you. Listening. Watching. Smiling to himself.

By the time your flight landed in Louisville later that afternoon, you'd completely forgotten about the Highland cow. There had been luggage to collect. Rental cars to organise. Three separate delays. By the time you finally climbed into Ethan's car the cow was the furthest thing from your mind.

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The following Monda backstage at Raw. You wandered into the production office balancing two coffees and a paper bag full of pastries. "Morning!" A chorus of greetings met you. You carefully placed everything down before spotting Ethan walking towards you. He leaned down, kissing you softly. "Good flight?" "Mhm." "You?" "It was fine." He reached into his backpack. "I've got something." You frowned. "For me?" "Mhm." "You didn't have to get me anything." "I know." He pulled out a small paper gift bag. No fancy wrapping. Just plain brown paper with little handles. You looked between the bag and him. "...What's this?" "You said it made you smile." Confused, you reached inside. Soft fur brushed against your fingertips. Your eyes widened. "No..." You lifted it out. The little Highland cow. The exact same tartan scarf. The same fluffy fringe. The same tiny horns. You stared at it for a long moment. Then back at Ethan. "Babe, you went back." "You liked him." "I..." You looked down at the plush again. "I didn't even tell you to buy him." "You didn't." "You just..." "I saw you looking at him." You laughed in disbelief. "I looked at him for maybe..." You thought. "...two minutes." "You smiled." Your heart absolutely melted. "You went all the way back to that shop..." "It wasn't far."

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms tightly around him. The plush ended up squashed between the two of you. "I love him." "I know." "I love you more." His arms settled comfortably around your waist. "I know."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The familiar voice made you both look up. Jey stood in the doorway with Sami beside him. Jey pointed dramatically at the Highland cow now tucked under your arm. "...Is that the airport cow?" You nodded enthusiastically. "It is!" "You bought it?" "No." You beamed at Ethan. "He did." Jey slowly turned towards him. "...Page." Ethan looked over. "Hm?" "You went back." "Yep." Ethan glanced down at you. You were already smoothing the plush's little fringe back into place with a ridiculous smile on your face. His own smile appeared almost automatically. "She smiled." Jey threw both hands into the air. "MAN, SHE SMILES AT EVERYTHING!" Sami laughed under his breath. "He has got a point." "I know." Jey looked utterly exasperated. "You are the most whipped human being I have ever met." Ethan didn't seem remotely offended. Instead, he looked at you. Still smiling. Still cuddling the little cow to your chest. His expression softened. "It was worth it."

For a split second, the room fell quiet. Because everyone could see he meant it. Twenty-two dollars. A walk across another terminal. Extra time before boarding. None of it had mattered to him. Not compared to the look on your face now. As you absent-mindedly tucked your hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze, Ethan returned it without hesitation. You'd spent the entire interaction looking at the little cow. Ethan had spent the entire interaction looking at you. And somehow that felt even more significant.

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By the following week, it had become something of a running joke backstage. Not for you. For everyone else. Because if anyone needed anything from you, they almost always asked Ethan first. "Y/N, have you seen your media schedule?" Ethan looked up from where he was taping his wrists. "Top pocket of her backpack." The production assistant smiled. "Thanks."

"Has Y/N signed these?" "Second page."

"Do you know where she-" "Interview room four."

"Has she-" "Already eaten."

By lunchtime, Jey had finally had enough. He wandered into catering carrying a bottle of water before dropping into the chair opposite Sami with a dramatic sigh. "I've figured it out." Sami didn't look up from his salad. "What?" "Page ain't her boyfriend." "No?" "He a search engine." Sami laughed. "I was thinking personal assistant." "Nah." "He answers every question before she does."

Almost as if on cue. You wandered into catering carrying your beloved Highland cow tucked under one arm. His name, after much debate with Maxxine, had become Angus. You refused to accept any criticism. "He looks like an Angus." Lyra had sighed. "He looks like polyester." "He has feelings." "He has stuffing."

"There she is." Jey grinned. "Yo, Sunshine." "Hi!" You smiled as you joined them. "What're we talking about?" "Your boyfriend." "Oh?" "We're trying to figure out if he's secretly psychic." You laughed. "I don't think so." "You sure?" "I'd know." "You wouldn't." "I would." "You absolutely wouldn't."

Before you could continue arguing, your phone buzzed. You glanced down. Your smile widened immediately. Ethan You forgot your lunch in the hotel fridge. "Oh." Sami looked up. "What?" "I forgot my lunch." Jey burst into laughter. "You literally just found out!" "I meal prepped yesterday." You frowned at your phone. "I left it behind." Before you had chance to type a reply, another message appeared.

Ethan Don't worry. Already ordered you another one. You couldn't help smiling. A second message. Chicken wrap. No tomato. Extra pickles. It'll be here in ten. You laughed softly to yourself. Jey leaned across the table. "What?" You turned your phone around. "He ordered my lunch." Right on cue, Ethan appeared in the doorway carrying two paper bags. He crossed the room and immediately kissed the top of your head before placing one bag in front of you. "Lunch." You peeked inside. Exactly as promised. Chicken wrap. Your favourite sparkling water. "You even got the grapes." "You like the grapes." "I do." You looked up at him with the softest smile. "You didn't have to." "I know." "But I wanted to." You reached up, taking his hand for just a second. "Thank you." His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. "You're welcome."

The conversation around the table resumed or tried to. Because every couple of minutes "Oh." You frowned. "My charger..." Without missing a beat, Ethan reached into his hoodie pocket. "Here." "Right." You laughed. "I forgot mine." "I know."

Five minutes later, "My lip balm's gone." "Front zip." "My backpack isn't—" "Behind your chair." "Oh." You twisted around. There it was. Exactly where he'd said.

Across the table, Jey slowly looked at Sami. Then back at Ethan. Then at you. "Nah." "What?" "This ain't normal." You frowned. "What isn't?" "You." "I've always been like this." "I know." He pointed at Ethan. "But every single time you forget something..." He snapped his fingers. "...he already got it." You shrugged. "He pays attention." "I pay attention." "You do." "I still don't know where my own wallet is." You laughed. "That's because you're Jey." He pretended to look offended. "You saying I'm disorganised?" "I'm saying if your head wasn't attached—" "I'd lose that too." The whole table laughed.

Rhea arrived just as the laughter died down. She set her tray beside yours before sitting. "You all alright?" "We're discussing Ethan's superpowers." She looked between the two of you. "Again?" Jey nodded. "He knew she'd forgotten lunch before she did." Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Did you?" You looked at Ethan. Then back at Rhea. "I don’t notice these things Rhea, you should know that." "Hm." Rhea's eyes lingered on Ethan for a second longer than usual. Not suspicious. Just curious. Because she'd watched the interaction unfold from the doorway. You hadn't asked for help. You hadn't even realized there was a problem. Ethan had noticed before you had. Again.

Across the table, Sami watched Ethan absent-mindedly unwrap the straw on your drink before handing it over without interrupting the conversation. You accepted it automatically, continuing your story to Maxxine as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that was what unsettled him most. Neither of you had even thought about it. It wasn't a performance. It wasn't Ethan trying to show everyone what a good boyfriend he was. It was simply how the two of you existed together. And judging by the content little smile on Ethan's face every time he made one tiny part of your day easier he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

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Raw had wrapped almost an hour ago. The adrenaline that always buzzed through the arena during a live show had long since settled into something softer. Road cases rattled across concrete floors as production began packing equipment away. Ring crew members dismantled sections of the barricades. Someone had already started playing music from a speaker balanced precariously on top of a stack of lighting cases, earning several dramatic complaints from the commentary team as they tried to finish post-show meetings. It was organised chaos. Your favourite kind. "Absolutely not." You laughed as Maxxine gently snatched a roll of bright pink gaffer tape out of your hands. "You are not decorating production equipment." "I wasn't decorating it." "You were making bows." "They were festive." "They're black flight cases." "They deserved a little sparkle." Maxxine shook her head, trying not to smile. "I swear, if WWE ever lets you near the props department, we're all doomed." "They'd have the prettiest props department on television.” "They'd have the glitteriest." "Exactly."

Across the room, Rhea snorted as she zipped up her gear bag. "I hate that she's got a point." You grinned triumphantly. "See?" Maxxine rolled her eyes dramatically. "You've both enabled each other." "That's what best friends are for." Rhea saluted you with her water bottle. "Damn right."

Your phone buzzed against the table beside you. You glanced down automatically.  Ethan Meeting's running a little over. Don't disappear without me. A smile spread across your face before you'd even realised it. Your fingers moved almost on their own. You  No promises. Three dots appeared almost instantly. Y/N. You laughed. You  Fineeeee. Another reply. Good girl Heat rushed to your cheeks despite yourself.

You looked up to find Rhea watching you over the rim of her bottle. "The smile." "What smile?" "The one you only do when he texts you." "I smile all the time." "Not like that." You tried very hard to look offended. "I think you're imagining things." Rhea raised an eyebrow. "You literally blushed." "I did not." "You absolutely did." "I've been under bright lights all evening." "Mhm." "I'm warm." "Mhm." "I'm choosing to ignore both of you." Rhea chuckled. "Tell your boyfriend we said hi." "I wasn't going to." "You are now." You rolled your eyes affectionately as you slipped your phone back into your pocket. "You two are bullies."

A production assistant appeared beside you carrying a clipboard. "Y/N?" "Yep?" "Do you mind filming one last social clip before you head out?" "Of course." "It'll only take ten minutes." "No problem." You followed him towards one of the backstage interview sets, chatting happily about absolutely nothing. The clip itself took barely five minutes. One take. A couple of promotional photos. Then another member of the digital team stopped you. "Actually" She smiled apologetically. "Would you mind recording one more?" "Sure." "You've got the nicest reactions." You laughed. "I don't know if that's a compliment." "It definitely is."

By the time you finally stepped back into the corridor, most of the arena had emptied. The noise had faded. Only the occasional shout echoed somewhere in the distance as crew continued loading trucks. You stretched your arms above your head. "Done." Your phone buzzed again. You smiled, already assuming it was Ethan. Instead the screen displayed a name you hadn't seen in a while. MOM You blinked. "Huh." Rhea happened to be walking past with her gear bag slung over one shoulder. "You alright?" "Yeah." You frowned lightly at the screen. "It's my mom." "You gonna answer?" "Probably." You smiled to yourself. "I wonder what she has broken." Rhea laughed. "Hopefully not another lawnmower." "Oh my God..." You groaned. "Don't remind me." You pressed accept. "Hello?" Your smile remained. "Hi!" A pause. "Yeah, I'm good." Another pause. Then your expression shifted. Only slightly. "Oh?" Rhea hadn't intended to listen. She was halfway through walking away. But something about the tone of your voice made her stop. "When?" Silence. Your shoulders slowly dropped. The smile disappeared completely. "No" Your voice cracked so quietly that even you barely heard it. Rhea turned fully now. Your free hand rose instinctively to cover your mouth. "I didn't know" Another pause. You closed your eyes. "I'm so sorry I couldn’t be there" The words came out as barely more than a whisper. By the time the call ended, your phone slipped from your ear almost mechanically. You stared at the blank screen for a long second. As though it might suddenly tell you something different. Something better. It didn't. Your lip trembled. You took one shaky breath, then another. Before the first tear slipped silently down your cheek. The corridor suddenly felt far too bright. Far too open. People still drifted past in the distance, laughing as they wheeled production cases towards the loading docks, completely unaware that your entire evening had shattered with a single phone call. Your phone remained pressed against your ear. "No." The word escaped as little more than a breath. "No" Your knees suddenly felt weak. You reached blindly for the wall beside you, your fingertips finding the cool concrete just before your balance disappeared completely.

On the other end of the phone, your mum's voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." You squeezed your eyes shut. "I should've been there." "Oh, darling" "You shouldn't have had to do it without me." Your voice broke on the last word. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks before you even realised you were crying. "He waited all day." "We know." "I would've come home." "We know." "I would've—" Your sentence dissolved into a sob. "He knew you loved him." It wasn't enough. Nothing was. "I just" You couldn't breathe properly. "I wanted to say goodbye." The call ended only when neither of you had anything left to say. You stared at the dark screen in your hand. The lockscreen photo, one of you and Ethan laughing backstage a few weeks earlier, blurred behind fresh tears. You barely noticed.

"Y/N?" Rhea's voice was cautious now. She'd turned back the second she'd heard your voice change. You looked up. The moment someone looked at you everything fell apart. A sob escaped before you could stop it. Your shoulders shook as you hurriedly wiped at your face. "I'm okay." It came out completely unconvincing. "No, you're not." Rhea crossed the corridor in three quick strides. "What happened?" You opened your mouth. Nothing. You swallowed hard. "Baxter." She frowned. "The dog?" You nodded once. Your childhood Labrador. The one whose photos filled your phone. The one you'd shown everyone after Christmas because he'd somehow managed to steal an entire turkey sandwich off the kitchen table without anybody noticing. The one Ethan affectionately called "your old man." Your best friend for nearly fifteen years. "He" Your voice trembled. "he was put to sleep this afternoon." The words were barely audible. "I wasn't there." Your entire face crumpled. "I wasn't there."

Rhea didn't hesitate. She wrapped both arms around you, pulling you against her chest. You clung to her hoodie as another sob escaped. "I'm sorry." You shook your head. "I should've gone home last week." "You couldn't have known." "I should've." "You couldn't." "I just..." You cried into her shoulder. "I wanted him to know I was there." "He did." "I don't know that." "He did." You wanted to believe her. You really did. But all you could picture was Baxter lying in his favourite bed at home. Looking towards the door, waiting.

After a long moment, Rhea gently pulled back. She looked at your tear-stained face. Your shaking hands. The way you were trying so desperately to pull yourself together. "What do you need?" You didn't answer straight away. Your eyes dropped back to your phone. There was one message from your mum waiting underneath the missed call notification. He was wearing the bandana you bought him. Another tear rolled down your cheek. Your voice was almost childlike when you finally spoke. "Can you get Ethan?" Rhea's expression softened immediately. "You want me to go and get him?" You nodded. "I..." Your breathing caught again. "I just want Ethan." There was no embarrassment in the request. No pride. Just complete trust. Because if there was one person in the world who always knew how to make things feel a little less overwhelming it was him. Rhea squeezed your hand. "I'll go." She stood, already turning towards the corridor. "I'll bring him to you." Just before she reached the door, she heard your quiet voice behind her. "Please." She looked back. You were sitting curled up on the little office sofa, clutching your phone to your chest as though it was the only thing keeping you together. Your eyes were red, your cheeks streaked with tears, you looked impossibly small. Rhea gave a single nod. "I've got you." Then she was gone. And for the first time since she'd known you, Rhea Ripley found herself walking as fast as she could through the backstage corridors with only one thought in her head. Find Ethan.

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Adam Pearce was halfway through outlining the travel schedule for the following week when someone knocked sharply against the open office door. Not a polite knock, a hurried one. Every conversation inside the room stopped. Rhea stood in the doorway. Still in her gear. Still carrying her duffel bag over one shoulder. She looked straight at Ethan. "Ethan." He looked up from the notebook in front of him, offering the same easy smile he always did. "Everything okay?" She didn't answer the question. "It's Y/N." The smile disappeared. Immediately. "What happened?" "I don't know exactly." Rhea took a small breath. "She got a phone call." Ethan was already pushing his chair back. "Is she hurt?" "No." "Sick?" "No." "What happened?" Rhea looked at him for a moment. Then said the sentence that made his stomach drop. "She's crying."

For a second everything else disappeared. The conversations, the office, Adam, the travel schedule. All of it faded into background noise. Crying? You? His brain rejected the thought almost instantly. You didn't cry. Not because you weren't allowed to. Because you simply didn't. You laughed. You got frustrated. You got overwhelmed sometimes. You absolutely sobbed during sad dog films. But real tears? The kind that came from genuine heartbreak? Never. Not once in the two years you'd been together.

His chest tightened painfully. "What happened?" Rhea shook her head. "She'll tell you." A beat of silence. Then, more quietly, "She asked for you." Something in Ethan's expression changed. It wasn't dramatic. There was no flash of anger. No shouting. No clenched fists. Just focus. Complete, unwavering focus. Before anyone in the room could say another word, he was already moving. "I'll cover for you." Adam's voice followed him towards the door. Ethan barely heard it. "Thanks." The word came automatically. His mind was already somewhere else.

The corridors blurred together as he walked. Fast enough that several members of production instinctively stepped aside. One of the referees greeted him. He didn't hear. Someone asked if he had a minute. He didn't answer. His heartbeat sat uncomfortably high in his chest. You were crying. Every possible reason cycled through his mind. Had someone hurt you? Were you injured? Had something happened to your family? Your parents? Your sister? No. Rhea would've told him if she'd known.

Halfway down the corridor, Maxxine spotted him. "Ethan?" He barely slowed. “Have you seen" "Rhea was with her." He nodded once. "I'm going." Maxxine frowned. "...Is everything okay?" "I don't know." His voice remained calm. Too calm. "I will." Then he kept walking.

He found the office exactly where Rhea had said it would be. The door sat almost closed. Only a thin strip of light spilled into the corridor. For the first time since leaving the meeting he hesitated. Just for a second. He rested one hand against the door handle. Took a slow breath. Then gently pushed it open. The room was silent. You sat curled into the corner of the small sofa. Still wearing your ring gear hoodie. Your knees pulled tightly against your chest. Your phone clutched in both hands. Your eyes remained fixed on the floor. You hadn't even noticed he'd arrived. His heart cracked he'd never seen you look so small. So that's why he thought. Rhea sounded frightened. Because anyone who knew you anyone at all would have been.

He quietly closed the door behind him. The soft click finally made you look up. Your eyes met his, already red, already swollen. The second you saw him the little bit of composure you'd managed to rebuild completely disappeared. "Ethan..." Your voice broke on his name. He crossed the room in three strides. Dropping to his knees in front of you without a second thought. "Hey." His voice was impossibly gentle. "I'm here." That was all it took. You reached for him instinctively. Almost desperately. He caught you before you could even think about it, wrapping both arms around you as you buried your face against his shoulder. Fresh sobs shook your body. "I'm here," he repeated softly, one hand smoothing slowly up and down your back. "I've got you. You don't have to say anything. I'm here." He held you tighter as you cried into his hoodie, his cheek resting lightly against the top of your head. He hated this. Not your tears. Never your tears. The fact that they existed at all. Because if you were crying then somewhere, somehow the world had managed to hurt you and he hadn't stopped it.

He didn't ask you to explain. Not immediately. There wasn't any point. You were trying to breathe through every sentence, and every attempt only seemed to end with another quiet sob. So instead he simply held you. One hand moved slowly up and down your back. The other remained tangled with yours. Grounding you, reminding you he was there. There was nowhere else he needed to be.

Nearly ten minutes passed before your breathing finally began to settle. Not because you'd stopped hurting. Because you'd cried until there was nothing left in you for the moment. You pulled back just enough to wipe at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. "Sorry." His eyebrows pulled together immediately. "For what?" "I..." You looked embarrassed. "I'm making a mess." He gently took your wrist before you could rub at your eyes again. "You don't have to apologise for crying." "I've got mascara everywhere." "I don't care." "I look awful." "You look heartbroken." His thumb carefully brushed another tear from your cheek. "There's a difference." Your lip trembled all over again.

For a little while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet enough that Ethan could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning. Your breathing. The occasional muffled sound of road cases rolling through the loading dock somewhere outside. Then, very quietly, "It was Baxter." He looked down at you. "Your mom called." You nodded. "They..." Your throat tightened. "They had to let him go." Ethan closed his eyes for the briefest second. Baxter. Of course. He knew Baxter. Not in the way you did. But through your stories, hundreds of them. The Labrador who used to steal socks from the washing basket and proudly parade them around the house like trophies. The one who insisted on sleeping directly across your bedroom doorway every Christmas because he'd decided it was his job to guard you. The one who'd somehow eaten an entire birthday cake when you were sixteen and spent the next day looking deeply unapologetic about it. You'd told those stories so many times that Ethan almost felt as though he'd known him himself. "He waited all day." Your voice cracked again. "Mum said..." You swallowed hard. "They think he was waiting for me." Ethan's heart physically ached. "No." You looked at him. "He wasn't waiting because he thought you'd forgotten him." His voice remained calm, gentle. "He loved you." Fresh tears spilled over immediately. "I wasn't there." "I know." "I should've gone home." "You couldn't have known." "I should've." "You couldn't." You shook your head stubbornly. "I promised I'd see him after tour." "You meant it." "I know, but I broke my promise."

Ethan reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "No." You looked at him through tear-filled eyes. "You kept every promise that mattered." You frowned. "What do you mean?" "You loved him." "So much." "You never stopped. You talked about him every week." A tiny, sad smile touched his lips. "You made me learn the difference between his happy bark and his biscuit bark." Despite yourself a tiny laugh escaped through your tears. "He did have different barks." "I know. You showed me videos. You made me watch the one where he got stuck behind the garden bench four separate times." Another watery laugh. "He wasn't very clever." "No." Ethan smiled softly. "But he looked very proud of himself." You nodded, wiping at your face again. "He always looked proud." "I know."

Silence settled again. Not heavy this time. Just quiet, you leaned against him once more, resting your forehead beneath his chin. "I hate that I wasn't there." His arms instinctively tightened around you. "I know." "I hate that Mum and Dad had to do it on their own." "I know." "I hate that he's not going to be there when I go home." Your voice became barely audible. "The house is going to feel so empty." Ethan closed his eyes. That sentence landed somewhere deep inside him. Because he'd never thought about that. You wouldn't just miss Baxter. Every trip home from now on you'd open the front door expecting nails on the wooden floor. A wagging tail, a happy bark. Nothing. The silence would remind you all over again. His chest tightened.

His mind started moving before he even realised it. Your flight home. He'd call Adam in the morning, see if there was a way to get you a couple of days off. He'd pack your suitcase, drive you to the airport himself, make sure your favourite hoodie was washed before you left. Order flowers for your mum. No, not flowers. Your mum wasn't a flower person, a food hamper. Something she wouldn't have to think about. He'd organise it tonight. He stopped himself. You shifted slightly against him. Still crying quietly. Still heartbroken and all he could think about was making lists. Finding solutions, fixing things. His gaze dropped to the top of your head. This couldn't be fixed. That was the problem. He couldn't bring Baxter back. He couldn't erase today. For the first time in a very long time there was a problem he couldn't solve. The feeling settled heavily in his chest. Uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. He hated it. Not because he needed to be the hero. Because he couldn't bear the thought of you carrying this pain alone. So if he couldn't take away the grief he'd take away everything else. Every decision. Every inconvenience. Every little burden. Anything that wasn't this. He would carry it for you.

Quietly. Without asking for thanks. Without expecting anything in return. Just because he loved you. Just because seeing you like this made something inside him quietly vow, Never again. Not your grief. He knew grief was unavoidable. But the world had already asked enough of you tonight. As far as Ethan was concerned it wasn't getting anything else.

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The office door opened quietly. You hadn't realised how late it had become until you stepped back into the corridor. The arena was almost empty now. Gone were the voices that had echoed through the building after the show. The television screens mounted on the walls had already been switched off, leaving the backstage hallways lit only by the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. You instinctively moved a little closer to Ethan. He noticed.

Without saying a word, he shifted too. His hand found yours. Not tightly. Just enough that you knew he was there.

You'd barely taken ten steps before a member of production hurried over. "Y/N, before you leave, could we just" "No." Ethan's answer was immediate. Calm. Professional. "We'll pick it up next week." The producer looked between the two of you. "Oh, I didn't realise" "It's been a difficult evening." Ethan's tone never changed. "If it isn't urgent, it can wait." The producer's expression softened immediately. "Of course. Tell her not to worry about it." "I will." The conversation was over almost as quickly as it'd begun. You hadn't said a single word. By the time you'd processed what had happened, Ethan was already gently guiding you back towards the exit.

"...I forgot to tell them I couldn't do media tomorrow." "You don't need to." You frowned. "What?" "I already spoke to digital." You blinked. "When?" "While you were getting some water." "I..." You genuinely hadn't noticed him leave your side. "They've moved your interview to next week." "Oh." A beat. "Thank you." He simply squeezed your hand.

The talent parking lot was almost deserted. A warm summer breeze drifted through the rows of rental cars. You stopped beside yours. "My suitcase..." Ethan opened the boot. It was already inside. Your backpack sat beside it. Your jacket had been folded neatly across the top. Even your water bottle was tucked into the side pocket where you always kept it. "When did you" "I packed your locker." You looked at him. "You packed my locker?" "You left before you finished." You looked down at the boot. Everything was there. Your wrestling boots. Your toiletries. The Highland cow plush tucked carefully between two hoodies so it wouldn't get squashed. A tiny, watery smile pulled at your lips. "You remembered him." Ethan followed your gaze to the plush. "He makes you smile."

The drive away from the arena was quiet. You rested your forehead against the cool window, watching the city lights blur together. Somewhere beside you, Ethan was driving with one hand. The other rested lightly on the centre console, palm open, waiting. Without thinking, you slipped your hand into it. His fingers curled around yours immediately. He didn't look away from the road. Didn't comment. He simply held your hand for the rest of the journey.

About halfway back to the hotel, your phone buzzed. You glanced down. Three missed calls. Six unread messages. Social media notifications piling on top of one another. Your chest tightened. "I should reply" Before you could unlock your phone, Ethan spoke. "You don't have to." "I don't want people worrying." "I texted everyone." You looked across at him. "Everyone?" "Rhea. Maxxine. Adam. I asked Rhea to let the rest of the locker room know you wanted some space." "You did?" "Mhm. So nobody expects you tonight." You stared at him. "I didn't even think about that." "I know."

A few minutes later, another thought hit you. "Oh. My parents. I should ring them." "You will." "I just..." You rubbed tiredly at your eyes. "I don't know what to say." "You don't have to tonight." He glanced across at you. "I spoke to your mom." Your head snapped round. "You what?" "I called her while you were washing your face." "You called Mom?" "I wanted to make sure she'd got home." You blinked several times. "And?" "She said to tell you she loves you." Your eyes filled immediately. "She also told me not to let you convince me you're 'fine.'" Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped. "That sounds like her." He smiled softly. "She asked if I'd make sure you ate something." You looked down at your hands. "...I forgot to eat." "I know. I ordered dinner." "Of course you did." "It'll be waiting at the hotel." You laughed weakly through another tear. "I swear..." "What?" "You think of everything." "I just think of you." The simplicity of the sentence stole the breath from your lungs. No grand declaration. No dramatic speech. Just the truth.

When the hotel finally came into view, you realised something. For the last forty minutes you hadn't made a single decision. Not one. You hadn't packed your things, cancelled your appearances, updated your friends, called your mum, ordered dinner, collected your luggage or even remembered to bring Angus. Ethan had quietly done every single one of those things without ever making you feel incapable. He'd simply seen the weight you were carrying and picked up everything else before you even realised it was there. As he parked the car, he reached across to switch the engine off before turning towards you. "You don't have to think anymore tonight." His hand came up to gently brush a tear from beneath your eye. "I've done the thinking." For the first time since your mom's phone call the knot in your chest loosened. Just a little. Because if there was one thing you knew with absolute certainty it was that Ethan would never let you face the practical parts of heartbreak alone.

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The hotel room was almost completely dark. Only the bedside lamp cast a warm pool of light across the carpet. Ethan quietly eased the door shut behind him with his foot, balancing two overnight bags over one shoulder while carefully carrying Angus under his other arm. You hadn't moved. You'd fallen asleep somewhere between the hotel and the elevator, your head resting against his shoulder as he'd carried you through the lobby. He hadn't had the heart to wake you, so he'd simply carried you all the way upstairs. He'd done it before after long flights. After twenty-hour travel days. After nights where jet lag had caught up with you. Tonight you'd just needed someone else to carry you for a while.

He lowered the bags onto the floor without making a sound. The room service trolley had already been delivered. Still warm, untouched. He'd expected that. His eyes drifted back to the bed. You were still curled on your side beneath the duvet, one of his hoodies swallowing your frame. Your face was puffy from crying, even in sleep your brows remained faintly pinched together. His chest ached. He quietly crossed the room. The first thing he did wasn't unpack, wasn't eat, wasn't even take his shoes off. Instead, he gently lifted your phone from the bedside table. Twenty-seven missed notifications. Most of them from friends. Fans, instagram tags. He switched on Do Not Disturb. Then opened your alarms. You'd forgotten to turn tomorrow's 5:30 a.m. gym alarm off. He deleted it, then the backup alarm, then the backup for the backup. You deserved one morning where nothing demanded anything from you. Next. Your charger. He plugged your phone in, then your watch, then your headphones. One less thing for you to worry about tomorrow.

He quietly unpacked your suitcase. Not everything. Just enough. Pyjamas folded neatly at the end of the bed, toiletries laid out in the bathroom exactly how you always arranged them, skincare lined up in order, hairbrush beside the sink, your favourite fluffy socks placed where your feet would naturally find them when you climbed out of bed. His movements were automatic. He'd watched your routines often enough that he didn't have to think anymore. Angus was next. He smiled faintly. "You've got an important job." The little Highland cow was placed carefully against your pillow, facing you. Exactly where you'd smile when you woke up.

His phone buzzed. Y/N’S mom He glanced at the screen. He stepped quietly into the bathroom before answering. "Hello?" "Hi, Ethan." Her voice sounded tired. "So is she?" He looked back through the cracked door. You hadn't stirred. "She's asleep." A shaky exhale came from the other end. "Thank goodness."

There was silence for a moment. Then, "Thank you." He frowned. "You don't need to thank me." "I do." "You've looked after her all evening." His eyes drifted back to you. "She'd do the same for me." "I know." Your mum's voice softened. "She loves you very much." His throat tightened. "I love her too." "I know you do." Another pause. "I just, I hate that she wasn't here." "So does she." "I know." He leaned lightly against the bathroom counter. "I'll bring her home." "Tomorrow? Will Adam approve it." "I've already spoken to him." "You have?" "He said family comes first." Ethan closed his eyes briefly. One less thing. Good.

When he returned to the bedroom, you shifted in your sleep. A tiny frown crossed your face. "Bax" The broken little whisper barely reached him. He was beside the bed immediately. "Hey." His hand gently smoothed through your hair. "I'm here." Your breathing hitched once, then settled. You unconsciously reached towards him, even asleep. He took your hand without hesitation. Your fingers curled around his instinctively. The tension left your face almost immediately. His heart broke all over again.

He sat there for a long time. Watching you sleep, thinking. Not about Baxter. Not anymore. There was nothing he could do about Baxter. His thoughts drifted somewhere else. Your flight, checking whether you'd packed tissues. Making sure there'd be petrol in the rental car when you landed. Ordering groceries for your parents' house so nobody had to think about shopping. Cancelling your physio appointment next week. Finding somewhere that printed good-quality photographs. You'd once said your favourite picture of Baxter was the one where he was wearing the ridiculous reindeer antlers every Christmas. He'd find it. Print it. Frame it. It wasn't about replacing the grief. Nothing could. It was about removing every tiny task that grief usually came wrapped in. Because every phone call. Every forgotten charger. Every cancelled booking. Every meal. Every suitcase. Every little decision was energy you no longer had. So he'd spend his instead. He looked down at your hand still tucked safely inside his. You'd once teased him that he treated loving you like it was a full-time job. At the time, he'd laughed. Tonight he realised that wasn't quite true. It wasn't a job. Jobs ended. Loving you didn't. It was simply who he was and if that meant carrying every practical burden you had until you could stand on your own again... He'd do it. Without hesitation. Without complaint. Without ever telling you just how many things he'd quietly taken off your shoulders. Because the only thing he wanted from you was for tomorrow to hurt a little less than today.

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The alarm never went off. When you eventually opened your eyes, the room was filled with soft morning light filtering through the gap in the curtains. For a few blissful seconds you didn't remember. Your gaze wandered sleepily around the room. Your suitcase stood neatly by the door. Your wrestling boots had disappeared. Your phone sat charging on the bedside table. A cup of water waited beside it. Then your eyes landed on Angus. The tiny Highland cow sat propped against your pillow, his tartan scarf slightly wonky. A small smile tugged at your lips. Before the memories crashed back in. Baxter. The phone call. Your mom. The tears. The smile vanished. Your chest tightened painfully.

"You awake?" Ethan's voice drifted softly from the other side of the room. You hadn't even realised he was awake. He stood near the little hotel kitchenette, quietly stirring something in a mug. You nodded once. "Mhm." "Morning." "Morning." He crossed the room, setting the mug down on the bedside table. Not coffee, tea. The chamomile tea you only ever drank when you were upset. "You remembered." "You always choose this one." You wrapped both hands around the warm mug. "Thank you."

"You don't have to get up yet." "I should." "You don't." "I need to pack." "It's already done." You blinked. "...Already?" "Mhm." "My toiletries?" "In the front pocket." "My charger?" "Side pouch." "My gear?" "Washed." You frowned. "...You washed my gear?" "It would've started smelling if we'd left it." A beat. "My black hoodie?" "The one you wanted?" You nodded. "It's folded on top." You looked at him for a long moment before quietly laughing through your sadness. "I genuinely don't know what I'd do without you." He smiled. "I know."

He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment before returning with your hairbrush. You frowned in confusion. "What?" "You'll get knots." You looked down at yourself. Your hair had become an absolute mess overnight. "Oh." You hadn't even noticed. You reached for the brush. Instead of handing it over Ethan hesitated. Then quietly asked, "Can I?" Your eyebrows lifted. "You want to brush my hair?" "If you'll let me." Your heart squeezed. You shifted forward on the bed. "Come here." He sat behind you carefully, one knee resting against the mattress as he gently gathered your hair into one hand. The first brush stroke was impossibly careful. Slow. Patient. He worked from the ends upwards exactly the way you'd once shown him after he'd accidentally tugged a knot months ago. Not once did he pull. Not once did he rush. "You learnt." "You taught me." Another gentle stroke. "You said starting at the top hurts." You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "You remembered." "I remember you." Silence settled between you. The only sound was the soft glide of the brush through your hair. It felt strangely comforting. Like home.

When he finished, he gently handed you your favourite scrunchie. "I thought you might want this." You smiled faintly. "My blue one." "It matches the jumper you're wearing." You looked down. He was right. Of course he was.

The drive to the airport was quiet. You spent most of it looking out of the window while Ethan rested one hand on the steering wheel and the other loosely over yours. Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence.

The airport was already busy. People hurried in every direction dragging suitcases behind them. Announcements echoed overhead. You followed Ethan almost automatically through the entrance. Halfway to the check-in desks, you suddenly stopped. "My passport." Your face drained of colour. "I left it..." Before panic could properly take hold, Ethan calmly reached into the front pocket of his backpack. Holding it out between two fingers. "You gave it to me last night." You stared. "...I did?" "You said you'd lose it if you kept it." "I don't remember doing that." "I know." You took it with a shaky laugh. "I was about thirty seconds away from crying again." "I know."

As you reached the security queue, an airline employee stepped in front of you. "Morning." He smiled politely. "I'm afraid only passengers can continue from this point." You nodded. "Right." You turned towards Ethan, suddenly feeling ten times smaller than you had a moment ago. "I'll..." Your voice caught. "I'll see you in a couple of days." He looked at you for a long second. Reading every emotion that crossed your face. The uncertainty. The sadness. The fact you suddenly didn't want to walk through security by yourself. Without a word, he reached into his wallet. The airline employee frowned. "Sir?" Ethan calmly produced another boarding pass. The employee looked down at it. Then back at him. "You're... travelling too?" "I changed my flight." You blinked. "What?" He looked at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You didn't think I was letting you do this alone." Your eyes immediately filled with tears. "Babe" "You've got enough to think about." He gently took your suitcase handle from your hand. "I'll carry this." The employee, still slightly confused by the interaction, stepped aside with an awkward smile. "Well, I hope you both have a safe journey." "Thank you." Ethan nodded politely before looking back at you. You were still staring. "You changed your flight?" "It wasn't difficult." "Ethan..." "You didn't ask me to." "No." "I wanted to." He reached for your hand again. "C'mon." "Your mum's waiting." And with that, he quietly guided you towards security, your suitcase rolling behind him, your passport tucked safely back into his pocket for now. Because, in his mind, there was never any question. If you were going home sad then he was going home with you.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

THREE WEEKS LATER

Three weeks had passed. Three weeks since the phone call. Three weeks since he'd held you together on a battered office sofa backstage. Three weeks since Baxter. The grief hadn't disappeared. Ethan hadn't expected it to. Some mornings he still woke to find you staring at your phone, smiling sadly at old videos of a greying Labrador proudly carrying sticks twice his size. Sometimes you'd laugh at a memory before your eyes filled with tears. Other days, you'd simply go quiet whenever someone mentioned going home. Grief wasn't something to solve. He understood that now. It was something to carry alongside someone.

The silence in your apartment had stayed with him. The first night you'd both returned home after spending a week with your parents, you'd unlocked the front door and instinctively paused. Just for a heartbeat. As though you were waiting for paws that weren't there. Then you'd smiled at yourself. A brave, heartbreaking little smile. "I keep expecting to hear nails on the floor." It had been the only thing you'd said before disappearing into the bedroom. Ethan had stood alone in the hallway long after you'd gone. Listening to the quiet. You'd been right. Home was too quiet.

So he'd started researching. Not that night. Not even the next day. He'd waited. he'd listened, he'd watched, he'd called your parents. Then, when he was sure. He'd planned. Because planning was something he understood. Planning was something he could do. He'd found a reputable breeder less than an hour from your parents' house. Read every health certificate. Every genetic screening. Every review. He'd spent an embarrassing amount of time researching pet insurance, training classes and which hotels on the WWE schedule accepted dogs. He'd spoken to Adam Pearce about travel weeks. Quietly arranged extra days off where possible. He'd found a dog walker in Orlando who specialised in working around unpredictable schedules. Bought two crates. One for the apartment and one for your parents' house. He'd assembled both himself. Watched three different videos on crate training. Your parents had laughed when he'd arrived with a boot full of puppy supplies. "You're nesting," your mom had teased. He hadn't argued. Maybe he was.

He'd almost cancelled, twice. The second time had been after finding you asleep on the sofa, Baxter's old bandana folded carefully in your lap. The guilt had hit him so hard he'd nearly phoned the breeder. How could he possibly think, how could any dog… No. It wasn't fair. Not to you. Not to Baxter. Not to the puppy.

Your mom had stopped him. "He'll never replace Baxter." "I know." "You know." She'd smiled softly. "So does she." He hadn't been convinced. Until she'd added. "She's started looking at rescue websites." He'd looked up. "She has?" "Only for a few minutes. Then she closes them." "She says it feels like she's moving on." Your mom had shaken her head gently. "I think she's just waiting for someone to tell her it's okay to love another dog."

Now Standing outside the apartment door with a tiny black Labrador asleep against his chest... Ethan realised he was nervous. Actually nervous. The puppy snored softly, one ridiculously oversized paw hanging over Ethan's forearm. The little yellow ribbon around his neck had somehow twisted sideways. Ethan fixed it carefully. "You've got one job." The puppy yawned. Completely unimpressed. "You've got to like her." A tiny pink tongue poked out. He smiled despite himself. "I don't think that'll be the difficult part."

His keys clicked quietly in the lock. The apartment was warm. Sunlight spilled through the living room windows. You were exactly where he'd expected, curled into the corner of the sofa, one of his hoodies swallowing you whole, a book balanced open across your knees. You looked up as he stepped inside. A smile immediately found your face. "Hi." He closed the door carefully behind him. "Long day?" "Mhm." You stretched dramatically. "Maxxine made me do cardio." "The horror." "I know." Your eyes narrowed playfully. "What have you got behind your back?" He blinked. "Nothing." "Ethan." "I've just got my bag." "You are a terrible liar." He sighed theatrically. "I was hoping you'd be less observant." "I know you." "You do." You set your book aside, smiling curiously. "What are you hiding?" He stood there for another second. His stomach twisting tighter than it had before any title match. This was ridiculous. He wasn't the one receiving the surprise. "Babe?" Your voice softened immediately. "You okay?" He nodded once. Then quietly, "I need you to close your eyes." You laughed. "No." He smiled despite himself. "Please." "What are you plotting?" "Just trust me." "I always trust you." The words settled somewhere deep in his chest. You stood from the sofa. Covering your eyes dramatically with both hands. "They're closed." "I haven't even asked yet." "I know." "But if I peek, you'll make me feel guilty." "I absolutely would." "I know you."

He chuckled quietly. "Okay." He turned slightly, lifting the sleeping puppy properly into his arms. The movement disturbed him just enough that sleepy brown eyes blinked open. "Oh..." Ethan whispered. "Perfect timing." The puppy looked around with complete confusion before deciding Ethan's hoodie string was the most fascinating thing in the world. "No." He gently rescued it. "Not yet."

"You can open them now." You lowered your hands. For a second you simply stared. Your brain didn't quite catch up with what your eyes were seeing. A tiny black Labrador, floppy ears, big paws, sleepy brown eyes, curled safely against Ethan's chest with a yellow ribbon tied around his neck, silence. Then your hand flew to your mouth. "Ethan." He searched your face immediately. Every tiny change in your expression. The surprise, the tears gathering in your eyes, the way your bottom lip trembled. Panic bloomed in his chest. Too soon. He'd been wrong. "I'm sorry." The words left him instantly. "If this is too much" Your eyes snapped to his. "I can take him back." He swallowed. "I thought maybe... I know he isn't Baxter." "I know that." "I wasn't trying to—" Fresh tears spilled over your cheeks. His stomach dropped. "I've made it worse." "No." Your voice cracked. "No..." He stepped forward instinctively. "I should've waited." "You don't understand." "I thought…" Before he could finish, you closed the distance between you. One hand caught his wrist. The other reached, almost hesitantly, towards the puppy. Tiny paws immediately stretched towards you. The puppy gave one enthusiastic lick across your fingers. You let out the smallest, wettest laugh. "Oh” The sound broke something inside Ethan. You looked up at him through tears. "You idiot." His eyebrows knitted together. "What?" "You've made me cry." "I know. I'm sorry." You laughed again, shaking your head. "They're happy tears." He stilled. "Really?" You nodded, gently scratching beneath the puppy's chin as his tail began thumping against Ethan's arm. "So happy." He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "I thought..." "I know." You looked back down at the puppy. "So did Mom know?" He nodded. "And your Dad, they helped me." You smiled. "They're terrible at keeping secrets." "They were surprisingly good." Your eyes wandered over the puppy again. "So..." You whispered. "He's ours?" Ethan finally smiled. "If you'll have him."

You looked at him as though he'd asked the most ridiculous question imaginable. Instead of answering you wrapped one arm around Ethan's waist, the other carefully supporting the puppy between you. Resting your forehead against Ethan's shoulder, you whispered, "I didn't think I was ready." His heart sank for half a second. Then you continued. "I think I was just waiting for someone to remind me that loving another dog doesn't mean I loved Baxter any less." Emotion tightened painfully in his throat. "It doesn't." "I know." You looked down as the puppy clumsily licked your chin. A real laugh escaped you this time. Bright. Warm. The first completely unguarded laugh Ethan had heard from you in weeks. He didn't look at the puppy. He looked at you. Because that sound, that smile, that tiny spark of joy breaking through the grief it was everything he'd been hoping for. You glanced back at him, still smiling. "When did you even do all this?" Ethan shrugged, as though it were nothing. "I found a breeder. Spoke to your parents. Sorted the insurance. Registered him with the vet. Booked puppy classes. Bought a crate. Puppy-proofed the apartment. Found hotels that accept dogs for the road. There's a dog walker for TV weeks and" You started laughing again. He stopped. "What?" "You've done everything." He frowned slightly. "I hadn't finished." "I know." You reached up, cupping his cheek. "You never have to earn my love by taking care of me." His expression softened. "I know." "Then why?" He looked down at the little puppy now fast asleep in your arms, then back into your eyes. His answer was so quiet you almost missed it. "Because you told me home was too quiet." And somehow that was the moment that made you cry the hardest. Not because of the puppy. Not because of Baxter. But because the man standing in front of you had listened to one throwaway sentence spoken through heartbreak and loved you enough to spend three weeks making sure you never had to come home to silence again.

[dilanmoodboards]

We're Finally Home (Shawnter)

Paring: Triple H/Shawn Michaels

Summary: Shawn and Hunter have been together for years, but due to the circumstances of their job they've been forced to keep it a secret. During Triple H's solo induction to the WWE Hall of Fame Hunter decides to show the world to whom Shawn Michaels truly belongs to.

NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: Fluff and Smut; Established Relationship; Coming Out; Old Married Couple; Old man yaoi; Blow Jobs; Anal Sex; Creampie; Top Triple H; Bottom Shawn Michaels; Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Notes: As you can notice from the setting this has been in the works since last year's HOF, but it's finally done and just in time for Shawn's birthday. So Happy Birthday Shawn!!!! English is not my first language and I'm dyslexic af, so feel free to correct anything. Comments are always welcome.

Word Count: 2,865

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Shawn had just finished his induction speech for Hunter. He was extremely proud of his husband for finally getting his solo induction to the Hall of Fame, but a part of him was quite sad about the fact that they still had to keep their relationship a secret. One would think that after so many years of hiding it, it would’ve gotten easier, but it was quite the opposite. 

Although society grew more accepting of same sex couples, management wouldn’t allow them to go public with their relationship. First it was Vince and his insistence in maintaining ‘kayfabe’, he constantly told them it would confuse the viewers because Hunter had an on screen relationship with Steph. Now it was the board, especially TKO, who claimed that it would alienate part of their viewers, and therefore it would be bad for business. 

So Shawn wrote his speech and changed every reference to his and Hunter’s real relationship into friendship, the words “husband” and “lover” were changed to “best friend”. Their true love for each other masked into nothing more than a friendship, a powerful one, sure, but still not the truth. 

When Hunter’s music hit Shawn was overcome with a mix of emotions, still as he heard the first few cords of the song he felt relief. Hunter’s theme was probably the one song you never wanted to hear while you were standing at a WWE stage, but for Shawn it had always represented something else, it meant that the love of his life was there, that his safety net was right below him in case he fell. Even when they were supposed to hate each other, Shawn couldn’t help but swell with happiness as the song played.

As the final chords of his theme music faded, Hunter didn't walk straight to the podium. Instead, he stopped right in front of Shawn. The crowd was already cheering, expecting the usual DX antics, the playful jokes they had shared for decades.

Hunter reached out, his large hand cupping the back of Shawn’s neck, his thumb brushing against Shawn's hairline just beneath his cowboy hat. Shawn looked up, expecting a quick, performative peck on the cheek or lips, the kind they used to tease the crowd with to get a reaction.

But when Hunter leaned in, it wasn’t a joke. It wasn't a quick play for the cameras.

Hunter pressed his lips firmly against Shawn’s, deep and lingering, holding him in place with a possessive intensity that made Shawn’s breath catch in his throat. It lasted too long to be a DX stunt. The arena's cheers faltered for a second, replaced by a wave of confused, sudden whispers as the camera caught every detail of the raw emotion on their faces.

When Hunter finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with a lifetime of unspoken promises. He didn't let go of Shawn's neck right away. 

He then walked to the podium speaking right into the microphone, while Shawn was still standing in the same place in shock. Hunter’s voice boomed through the entire room as he spoke.

"For thirty years, you all watched us out here. You laughed when we pushed the boundaries, you cheered when we kissed on screen, and you thought it was just an act. You thought it was DX being controversial," Hunter said, his voice steady, sending a shockwave through the corporate executives watching backstage.

He looked at Shawn, whose eyes were wide with a mix of terror and overwhelming love.

"But tonight, I want to clear something up," Hunter continued, a proud, defiant smile touching his lips. "Those kisses were never a joke. They were never a storyline. They were the only moments in this ring where I was allowed to show the world the truth. Every single one of them was real. And it’s time everyone knows that the man standing in front of me isn’t just my best friend. He is my husband."

Shawn practically fled the stage, leaving Hunter on stage to finish the rest of his speech. His boots clicked loudly against the concrete floor of the hotel corridors, his mind spinning so fast he could barely breathe. He ignored the stunned stares of the production crew and the referees. He needed to be in a closed room. Now.

The moment he slammed the door of Hunter's private dressing room behind him, the silence hit him like a wall.

Shawn tore off his cowboy hat, tossing it onto the leather couch, and immediately began pacing from one side of the room to the other. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He was shocked. He was furious. But underneath the terror, a terrifying wave of relief was trying to break through, and that only made him more anxious.

Twenty minutes later, the heavy electronic lock clicked. Hunter walked in. He looked completely unbothered, loosening his silk tie with one hand while closing the door with the other.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Shawn exploded before Hunter could even take a full step into the room. He stopped his pacing, pointing an accusing finger at his husband. "What the hell was that, Hunter? What did you just do out there?!"

Hunter didn't answer right away. He just leaned his large frame against the door, a faint, incredibly soft smile playing on his lips as he watched Shawn.

"Don't you look at me like that!" Shawn snapped, his voice cracking slightly with pure adrenaline. "TKO is going to lose their minds! They explicitly told us no. The board is going to have your head on a spike by tomorrow morning! We could get fired, Hunter! Do you understand that? Fired! Blacklisted from the very company we helped build! They can erase us from history if they want to!"

Shawn started pacing again, his hands moving wildly as he laid out every single nightmare scenario. "And you didn't even tell me! For twenty-five years we protect this, we protect us, and you just blow it all up on a whim? You should’ve talked to me! You should’ve asked me if I was ready to face the fallout of…"

"Shawn."

Hunter’s deep voice cut through the room. He didn't sound angry or defensive; he sounded completely at peace.

He crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between them. Shawn stopped talking, his chest heaving as he stared up at his husband, his eyes wide and defensive. Hunter didn't say another word. He simply reached out, his large, warm hands coming up to cradle Shawn's face, his thumbs wiping away a stray tear Shawn hadn't even realized had fallen.

"Let them try to erase us," Hunter whispered, his smile widening just a fraction as he looked down at the love of his life. "Let's see them try to run a WrestleMania without us."

Hunter didn’t give him a chance to overthink. He leaned down and captured Shawn’s lips in a kiss so deep, fierce, and dripping with raw passion that all the corporate anxiety in Shawn’s mind instantly evaporated. Shawn groaned into the kiss, his hands instinctively flying to Hunter’s shoulders, gripping the expensive fabric of his suit jacket as he kissed his husband back with everything he had.

Shawn tried to look stern when they finally broke apart for air, their foreheads rested against each other, both breathing heavily, but his eyes were dark with desire.

"I’m still angry at you," Shawn whispered, his voice trembling slightly, trying to hold onto his remaining defenses.

Hunter’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, his hands sliding down to Shawn's waist. "Of course you are, sweetheart."

Shawn pulled back, taking Hunter by the hand and leading him over to the leather couch. He pushed Hunter down onto the cushions, stepping back just enough to strip off his own vest and loosen his shirt. 

"Strip!" Shawn said, his voice sharp and commanding. Hunter did as his husband wished, taking off his shirt and laying bare on the couch, with a relaxed pose, his arms crossed behind his head.

Shawn got on top of him, moving with deliberate slowness, his actions designed to keep Hunter suspended in a state of restless anticipation. Every touch was light, every movement calculated to maintain his position of power. He followed the lines of Hunter's chest with a focused intensity, relishing the way he could make the usually composed man lose his breath.

Shawn kissed his husband's right peck, then took his nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly causing Hunter to groan. Then he moved to his left peck, once again Shawn kissed it, very careful not to disturb the pacemaker, whispering "Thank you, for keeping him safe" to the machine.

Hunter’s chest heaved, his heart hammering right beneath the skin Shawn had just revered, entirely undone by the depth of his husband’s love. But Shawn wasn't done torturing him yet.

Shawn smirked, sliding his body down along Hunter's length, pushing Hunter's trousers down to fully expose him. Hunter’s hips twitched upward in anticipation, but Shawn placed a firm, warning hand on his thigh.

"Don't move," Shawn whispered against his skin. "You just lay there."

Shawn lowered his head, finally taking him into his mouth. He started with agonizing slowness, taking in just the tip, swirling his tongue around the head until Hunter let out a ragged, low growl. Shawn looked up through his lashes, his eyes locked onto his husband’s face, enjoying every twitch of Hunter's jaw.

He didn't take him all at once. Instead, Shawn used a devastating combination of deep, wet strokes followed by sudden, cruel withdrawals. He would slide down, letting Hunter feel the warm contrast of his throat, but just as Hunter’s hips began to instinctively lift from the couch to find a rhythm, Shawn would pull completely away. He would leave Hunter glistening and cold in the dressing room air, smirking as he trailed a wet finger down the length instead.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the wet, rhythmic sounds of Shawn’s mouth and the ragged edge of Hunter’s breathing. Shawn hummed against him, the vibration sending a jolt straight to Hunter’s hips. He sucked with a firm, relentless pressure, his hand wrapping around the base to restrict him, controlling the pace so perfectly that Hunter was completely off-balance, suspended on a knife-edge of pure frustration.

Hunter’s knuckles turned white as his large hands gripped the leather edges of the couch, his entire body tense, trembling from the prolonged anticipation. He wanted to thrust, he wanted to take what he needed, but every time his muscles flexed, Shawn would stop entirely, staring him down with that cold, challenging gaze until Hunter forced his hips back down.

Knowing he had pushed Hunter to the absolute brink, Shawn took him deep one last time, swirling his tongue aggressively before pulling away with a soft, deliberate pop. He crawled back up Hunter’s body, leaning in for a wet, breathless kiss to allow Hunter to taste himself on Shawn’s lips.

That was the opening Hunter had been waiting for. Driven past his limit by the relentless teasing, Hunter's restraint completely shattered.

With a sudden, fluid burst of movement, Hunter regained the initiative. He reached out, his massive hands locking around Shawn's waist, and in one agile motion, he flipped them over on the couch.

The transition from control to raw urgency was instantaneous. Hunter didn't waste time trying to match Shawn’s slow, calculated torture; he didn't have the luxury of patience anymore. Their bodies weren't thirty anymore, they were older, weathered by decades of physical abuse in the ring, their skin bearing the permanent maps of scars, surgeries, and time. They didn’t have the stamina for hours of endless rounds, and they both knew it. 

Hunter immediately hooked Shawn’s knees, pulling his pants off and pushing his legs wide over the leather armrest of the couch.

"Look at you," Hunter growled, his voice thick and rough as his eyes scanned Shawn's body. Shawn’s abs were still remarkably defined, a testament to his strict discipline, but his skin was softer now, beautifully mature, and dusted with silver-flecked body hair. Hunter leaned down, the rough texture of his thick beard scraping against Shawn’s skin, making Shawn shiver. "Fucking beautiful. You’re still the most beautiful thing in this entire industry, Shawn. My perfect husband."

"Hunter, please..." Shawn gasped, his fingers immediately clawing into the muscles of Hunter’s back. The adrenaline from his backstage lecture was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, heavy ache between his thighs. "Don't tease me. Just... I need you."

"I've got you, sweetheart. I've always got you," Hunter murmured, quickly holding Shawn’s hand, his thumb rubbing over the gold wedding band on Shawn's finger before he quickly grabbed a bottle of lube from the dressing room drawer. He prepped them both with frantic, wet strokes, his breath hot against Shawn’s neck. He wasn't gentle, but he was incredibly thorough, his large fingers stretching Shawn open just enough to ensure he wouldn't hurt him.

Shawn arched his back, a breathless sob escaping his lips as he felt the heavy weight of Hunter’s massive frame settling fully between his thighs. He looked up, his vision slightly blurred, taking in the sight of his husband, the broader waist, the heavy chest, the silver in his beard, and those dark, fiercely possessive eyes that had looked at him the same way for thirty years.

"Take it, Shawn. Open up for me, baby," Hunter whispered, a heavy command wrapped in pure worship.

With one deliberate, powerful thrust, Hunter buried himself inside his husband.

Shawn’s eyes rolled back as a loud, undone cry ripped from his throat, his hands tightly gripping Hunter’s broad shoulders. The sheer fullness of it was overwhelming, sometimes Shawn felt Hunter had gotten bigger with age, girthier. 

Hunter let out a deep, guttural groan, freezing for a second as his muscles clenched, absorbing the intense, tight heat of Shawn wrapping around him.

"God, you feel so good," Hunter panted, his hips beginning a heavy, punishingly deep rhythm. Each stroke was deliberate, a brutal mix of age-defying strength and desperate affection. "You grip me so perfectly. Still mine. Every single bit of you is mine, and now the whole world knows it."

Shawn couldn't even form words anymore. He could only nod, his hips instinctively moving to meet each of Hunter’s deep thrusts, the slaps of their skin echoing sharply in the quiet room. His older body was pliant, completely surrendered to the man who had just risked their entire corporate legacy just to call him husband in front of millions.

The heat in the room surged to an unbearable peak as Hunter increased the pace, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, and desperate. They were both running on pure adrenaline and decades of pent-up restraint, their bodies nearing their absolute limits. Shawn’s chest was slick with sweat, his breath hitching with every heavy hit against the leather of the couch.

"Hunter... Hunter, I'm close," Shawn cried out, his voice cracking as he arched his back, his fingers digging so deeply into Hunter's shoulders that his nails left red crescents on his skin. "I can't... please..."

Hunter growled, a primal, fiercely possessive sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. He didn't slow down. Instead, he leaned all his massive weight over Shawn, pinning his arms above his head and burying his face into the crook of Shawn’s neck.

As his own climax rushed over him like a tidal wave, Hunter bit down on the soft skin right above Shawn's collarbone. He sucked and nipped with an intense, unyielding pressure, deliberately leaving a dark, unmistakable mark. For twenty-five years, they had been so careful, checking each other in the mirror, using makeup to cover any trace of their intimacy before going live on television. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, every camera backstage and every fan on the internet would see exactly who Shawn belonged to.

With a final, shattering thrust, Hunter let out a loud, undone groan, completely losing his composure as he came deep inside his husband.

Shawn screamed into the empty locker room, his own release spilling over their stomachs as the intense, white-hot friction of Hunter filling him sent his body into helpless spasms. The sensation of Hunter releasing inside him, hot and completely unrestricted, was overwhelming.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the ragged, desperate panting of two men completely spent. Hunter collapsed forward, heavy and exhausted, burying his face in Shawn’s neck, his body still twitching slightly as the aftershocks subsided.

Shawn’s arms slowly came around Hunter’s broad back, holding him tightly. His throat was raw, his body throbbed, and his neck stung where Hunter had marked him, but as he looked up at the ceiling of the locker room, the overwhelming terror of the TKO board completely dissolved.

Hunter lifted his head, his dark eyes soft and vulnerable as he looked down at his husband. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against Shawn's lips, savoring the reality of their newly conquered freedom.

"They can't touch us anymore," Hunter whispered, his thumb gently tracing the fresh mark on Shawn's neck. "We're finally home."

[onlyangel4]

booktok. drew mcintyre. smau.

drew mcintyre x author!reader

author's note: the book in this fic is keep me by sara cate i've been told drew suits the vibe of this book so any bookish girlies reading deffo give it a read

faceclaim: olivia wilde

netflix

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tagged: y/ninsta

netflix: keep me a series based off y/n y/ln's hit book is in early production with release predicted fall 2027

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y/ninsta: pinch me!!!! i still can't believe this is real !

user1: omg omg omg

user2: killian is going to be real

user3: i'm crying

user4: y'all better cast killian right

user5: richard madden is my killian

user6: drew mcintyre for killian please please please

user7: omg you cooked with this

user8: yes drew has to be killian

user9: you better get sylvie cast right

y/ninsta posted a story

written: i've been keeping this news for so long ! but yes i will be an executive producer on keep me and don't you worry i will make sure casting is perfect !

dmcintyrewwe

liked by y/ninsta, user10, user11 and 569,282 others

dmcintyrewwe: best few weeks off

view all 2,889 comments

user10: @.y/ninsta this has to be your killian

user11: @.y/ninsta please please please

user12: drew you need to call netflix now you are the perfect killian

user13: you need to be in keep me drew

user14: the fact all these comments are about save me is so funny

y/ninsta posted a story

written:i'll be at booktok fest this afternoon with some very important keep me news

booktokfest

liked by user15, user16, user17 and 639,292 others

tagged: netflix. y/ninsta. dmcintyrewwe. mika.abdalla

booktokfest: a booktokfest EXCLUSIVE: keep me author y/n y/ln was just joined on stage by drew mcintyre and mika abdalla or should we say killian and sylvie because this is the official cast for the netflix adaptation

view all 29,776 comments

user15: i always trusted y/n to get this cast right

user16: oh my god yes finally we know who they are

user17: drew as killian is going to heal me

user18: oh i can not wait for this

user19: mika is so sylvie

user20: this is such a serve i've not been this excited for a cast EVER !

y/nfan posted a story

written: guys i just met y/n on her way to set, the actor playing killian was with her holding her bag !

mika.abdalla posted a story tagging dmcintyrewwe

written: drew is working the runway

dmcintyrewwe

liked by y/ninsta, mika.abdalla, chelseagreen and 823,334 others

tagged: y/ninsta. mika.abdalla.

dmcintyrewwe: and just like that we have wrapped filming keep me. this was the best experience of my life. getting act alongside the brilliant @.mika.abdalla and be guided by @.y/ninsta and her brilliant brain. i hope i did killian justice for all you booktok fans

view all 23,448 comments

y/ninsta: i don't now if i should kill you for including that night shoot photo or cry because you were so kind. thank you for being the best killian a girl could wish for

user21: guys have you seen the clips of these two filming, the way drew looks at y/n is so soft

user22: i'm gonna start a rumour

user23: can't wait to see the finished thing

user24: does this mean you are coming back to wwe please do we miss you

y/nfan posted a story

written: y/n was ringside for drew's first match back with the wwe after filming keep me. i love their friendship !!

y/ninsta posted a story

written: time for the keep me wrap party, i'm not ready to say goodbye to this project

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

three months later

dmcintyrewwe posted a story

written: guess i'm a table now

y/insta posted a story

written: my happy place <3

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

two months later

y/ninsta posted a story

written: happy keep me release week to those who celebrate. aka me.

netflix posted a story

written: keep me creator y/n y/ln is the first to arrive on the red carpet

netflix posted a story

written: and she is joined by her very own killian

y/ninsta

liked by dmcintyrewwe, sheamuswwe, chelseagreen and 1,223,485 others

tagged: dmcintyrewwe

y/ninsta: i wrote keep me when i was twenty three years old. i had just lost my job and been cheated on. i found myself with a lot of free time so i just started writing things down, living in this little dream world and well now keep me is the reason i have a job. keep me changed my life back then and now it has allowed me to cross paths with the most amazing man.

the girl that wrote keep me was hoping for a brooding scottish man to sweep of her feet and now, the woman that created the television series has all that girl could ever had dreamt of. the series is out now, thank you to everyone that has watched, read or followed along, i am so grateful to each and every one of you.

view all 72,393 comments

user25: MY PARENTS!!!

user26: this couple just makes so much sense

user27: all the pics from filming with drew flanking y/n like security make sense now

user28: i love it when hot people fall in love

dmcintyrewwe: i will love you forever, thank you for letting me into your world

chelseagreen: i just watched the whole thing in one day, y/n you are genius

[onlyangel4]

i notice. bron breakker. language of love series.

bron breakker x girlfriend!reader

gift receiving

Monday mornings in airports always looked the same. Half-asleep travellers shuffled towards departure gates with coffees clutched like lifelines. Suitcases rattled endlessly across polished floors. Announcements echoed through the terminal every few minutes, barely loud enough to drown out the steady murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter from families beginning their holidays.

For most people, airports were stressful. For wrestlers, they were just another Monday.

"You know" Austin Theory yawned loudly as he adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. "I've spent more time in airports this year than I've spent in my own apartment."

You glanced sideways. "Probably."

"I don't think that's healthy."

"You wrestle for a living."

"Exactly." He sighed dramatically. "I should get frequent flyer therapy."

You snorted quietly. "I don't think that's a thing."

"It should be."

Bron walked a few steps ahead, one hand wrapped around a black coffee, the other tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. As usual, he wasn't contributing much to the conversation. He rarely did before ten in the morning.

Maxxine, on the other hand, somehow looked like she'd already conquered the day. She walked beside Austin with a fresh coffee in one hand and enough energy to make everyone else look exhausted. "I think airports are fun."

Austin looked at her in disbelief. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You enjoy this?"

"I like people watching."

"I like sleeping."

You smiled faintly to yourself, letting their conversation fade into the background as your attention drifted elsewhere. The airport wasn't particularly interesting. Just another chain terminal with the same polished floors, the same cafés and the same souvenir shops every other city seemed to have.

Still something caught your eye. A clothing store sat just ahead, its front display filled with oversized hoodies, vintage-style jackets and stacks of folded sweatshirts. Your gaze lingered for barely a few seconds. One hoodie in particular hung on a mannequin near the entrance. Oversized, heavyweight, charcoal grey, faded enough to look lived in. Simple. No loud logos. No bright colours. Exactly the kind of thing you'd wear until it practically fell apart.

You slowed almost instinctively.

Maxxine noticed. "What?"

You nodded towards the window. "Nice hoodie."

She followed your gaze. "Oh, that's cute."

"It is."

Austin barely looked. "It's just grey."

You shrugged. "I like grey."

"I know you do."

Maxxine laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen you voluntarily wear colour."

"I own green."

"You own dark green."

"It still counts."

Austin shook his head. "Y'all dress like you're permanently attending someone's funeral."

You looked at him completely deadpan.

"I've never trusted people who wear neon."

He placed a hand over his heart. "That was personal."

"It was."

Maxxine giggled. "You two bicker like siblings."

"We do not."

"You absolutely do."

You smiled slightly before taking one last glance at the hoodie. It was nice, really nice but you already owned more hoodies than your wardrobe comfortably held. Besides, there wasn't much point buying another one.

With a quiet shrug, you kept walking. Within seconds, your attention had moved on completely.

A few minutes later, the four of you had settled near your gate. Austin immediately collapsed into one of the seats with another dramatic sigh. "If this flight gets delayed" He pointed vaguely towards the departure board. "I'm going home."

"You are home."

"You know what I mean."

Maxxine laughed, sitting beside him. You rested your backpack by your feet before pulling your headphones from one of the pockets. The terminal buzzed quietly around you. People hurried past. Children ran circles around tired parents. Someone nearby argued with a vending machine. Normal, comfortable. You'd just started scrolling through your playlist when a familiar shadow stopped in front of you.

 You looked up, Bron.

He held out a shopping bag.

You frowned. "What's this?"

He simply lifted it a little higher. "Yours."

You blinked. "What?"

"The hoodie."

For a second your brain completely failed to catch up. "What hoodie?"

He looked at you like the answer was obvious. "The one you stopped for."

Realisation dawned. Your eyes dropped to the logo printed on the side of the bag, the same shop. "You went back?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"When you were talking."

"I was talking for, like, two minutes."

"Long enough."

You stared at him. "Bron."

"What?"

"You bought it?"

He nodded once. "You liked it."

Your fingers slowly closed around the handles of the bag. "I" A laugh escaped you. "I was just looking."

"I know."

"So why'd you buy it?"

He shrugged. "That's your colour."

Silence. Not because it was a particularly grand statement. Because he said it with complete certainty. As though there had never been another possible outcome.

You looked back down at the bag. "It is?"

He frowned very slightly. "Yeah. you wear charcoal all the time."

"I do?"

"It makes your eyes stand out."

Your heart stumbled somewhere in your chest. He said it so matter of factly. No awkwardness. No attempt to flirt. Just an observation. Something he'd noticed.

You swallowed against the sudden warmth threatening to creep into your cheeks. "I didn't know that."

"I did."

Austin, who had been half-listening while scrolling through his phone, finally looked up. "Hold on." Neither of you answered. Austin looked between the shopping bag and Bron. "Dude."

Bron glanced over. "What?"

"You left, you went back, you bought her the hoodie." Austin pointed dramatically at you. "Because she looked at it."

Bron frowned slightly. "Yeah."

Austin blinked. "She didn't even touch it."

"I know."

"She literally looked at it for three seconds."

Bron took a sip of his coffee. "She liked it."

Austin looked as though he'd just been told the sky was green. "You bought an entire hoodie" He paused. "because she looked at it."

Bron nodded again. "That's usually how shopping works."

Maxxine covered her mouth, trying, and failing, to hide a smile.

Austin turned towards her. "Back me up."

She shook her head immediately. "Nope."

"This is weird."

"No." She looked fondly between you and Bron. "I actually think it's really sweet."

Bron looked genuinely confused. "Why?"

Maxxine smiled. "You noticed."

He shrugged. "So?"

Austin threw both hands into the air. "'So?'" He pointed accusingly at Bron. "You remembered the exact hoodie she looked at, you remembered the colour. You remembered she didn't own one like it."

Bron frowned. "She does."

Austin paused. "What?"

"She has one."

"Then why buy another one?"

"'Cause that one's getting worn out."

You slowly turned your head. "Excuse me?"

Bron looked back at you. "The sleeves."

"What about them?"

"They're fraying."

You hadn't even noticed. "I" You looked back up at him. "How did you know that?"

He shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. "You wear it all the time." Like it explained everything. Maybe to him it did.

Your chest tightened unexpectedly. Not because of the hoodie sitting in your hands. But because somewhere between flights, training sessions and television every week, Bron had noticed your favourite hoodie was wearing out. He hadn't mentioned it. Hadn't made a fuss. He'd simply replaced it before you needed to.

You looked down at the shopping bag again, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Thank you."

Bron's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "No problem."

You pulled the hoodie from the bag. It was just as soft as you'd imagined. Without another word, you slipped it over your head, pulling it on over what you were already wearing. It hung comfortably from your shoulders, slightly oversized exactly the way you liked.

Bron gave one small nod. "Told you."

You looked at him. "What?"

"Your colour."

Austin watched the entire exchange in complete disbelief before leaning towards Maxxine. Quietly enough that he thought neither of you would hear, he muttered, "That man has absolutely no idea he's the most romantic idiot alive."

Maxxine smiled knowingly. "No." She watched Bron absent-mindedly straighten the hood where it had folded awkwardly against your shoulders before stepping back as though he'd done nothing unusual at all. "I don't think he does either."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

RAW days always followed the same rhythm. Hair, makeup, gear, production meetings, warm-ups, interviews. Then, somehow, before you had time to think about it, showtime.

The women's locker room buzzed with the familiar kind of organised chaos that came with television days. Hairdryers hummed. Music played from someone's speaker in the corner. Gear bags lay open across benches, every wrestler insisting they had a system despite appearances suggesting otherwise. You sat in front of your locker with one leg crossed over the other, carefully fastening the last buckle on your boots.

Your gear for the night hung neatly beside you. Black, silver, simple. Exactly how you liked it.

The only decision left was jewellery. You opened the small case you always travelled with. Inside sat rows of earrings organised far more neatly than the rest of your belongings ever were.

Maxxine wandered over, already dressed for the show. "You've got more earrings than I own shoes."

You didn't look up. "I doubt that."

"It's close." She leaned against the lockers, watching as you studied two pairs. One was matte black. The other, polished silver hoops.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"I can't decide."

"You?" She looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you always knew."

"I usually do."

You held both pairs up. "Black?" you lifted them closer to your face "Or silver?"

Maxxine tilted her head thoughtfully. "The silver makes your makeup pop."

You considered them. "Maybe." Then you frowned again. "I don't know."

"You could always ask Bron."

You laughed under your breath. "Ask Bron about earrings?"

"Yep."

"You'd trust his opinion?"

Maxxine gave you a look. "I absolutely would."

Before you could answer, the locker room door opened. Bron stepped inside, fresh from whatever meeting Adam Pearce had dragged The Vision into. He wasn't looking for anyone in particular, until he spotted you. His expression softened almost immediately. "There you are." He wandered over, hands tucked into the pockets of his joggers. "You ready?"

"Almost." You held up both pairs of earrings. "Help me settle something." He looked down. "Black or silver?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Silver."

You blinked. "That was quick."

"Mhm."

"Why?"

"They match."

You frowned slightly. "What do they match?"

"The stitching." Silence.

"The stitching?" you repeated.

Bron nodded towards your gear hanging beside your locker. "The silver around your knee pads." You slowly turned to look. Sure enough running around the edges of your knee pads was a strip of metallic silver stitching, tiny. Barely noticeable unless someone was really looking. You looked back at him. "You noticed that?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"When you changed it."

"I." You laughed quietly. "I changed it weeks ago."

"I know."

"How long ago?"

He thought for a second. "Three."

"Three what?"

"Weeks."

Your eyebrows lifted. "You know how many weeks ago I changed my gear?"

Maxxine stared openly now. "Bron."

"What?"

"You noticed the stitching."

He frowned. "Yeah."

"The tiny stitching."

"Mhm."

"The silver stitching."

He looked between the two of you, completely baffled. "It's different."

Maxxine laughed. "No, I know it's different. I'm just trying to understand how you know it's different."

Bron shrugged. "You wear the black earrings when there's no silver." He pointed towards the pair in your hand. "You wear those when there is."

The room fell quiet. Your mouth opened slightly before closing again. "You" You looked down at the earrings. "You've memorised that?"

He looked at you as though you were asking whether the sky was blue. "I guess."

"You guess?"

"I never thought about it."

Maxxine let out the tiniest squeal before immediately covering her mouth. "Oh my God."

Bron looked over. "What?"

She pointed between the two of you. "That."

"What?"

"You just said you've memorised her jewellery."

"I didn't."

"You literally did."

"I didn't memorise it."

"You knew exactly which earrings she'd wear with which gear!"

He frowned harder. "I just noticed."

You couldn't stop smiling. Not a huge grin. Just that small, involuntary smile that always seemed to appear whenever Bron said something completely ordinary that somehow managed to make your heart ache.

He caught it immediately. "You smiled."

"I always smile."

"No." He shook his head once. "That one."

"What one?"

"The little one."

You looked away instinctively, suddenly far more interested in clipping the silver hoops into your ears. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You smiled."

Maxxine watched the exchange with the kind of expression usually reserved for people witnessing puppies discovering snow for the first time. Neither of you seemed remotely aware of what you were doing. Bron wasn't flirting. You weren't blushing dramatically. It was just comfortable, natural. Like the two of you existed on the same wavelength.

The locker room door swung open again.

Austin wandered in carrying two bottles of water. "There you" He stopped mid-sentence. "Why is everyone looking emotional?"

Maxxine pointed at Bron. "He memorised her earrings."

Austin frowned. "Her what?"

"Her earrings."

He looked at Bron. "You serious?"

Bron accepted the bottle Austin handed him. "What?"

"You know which earrings she wears with which gear?"

Bron unscrewed the cap and nodded.

Austin blinked. "Why?"

Bron looked genuinely confused by the question. "They match."

Austin turned slowly towards you. "How long have you two been dating?"

"Just over a year."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Right." Then back to Bron. "And in that year” He gestured vaguely towards your ears. "you've apparently become a professional jewellery consultant?"

Bron took a sip of water. "I don't know anything about jewellery."

Austin laughed. "Clearly!"

"You just know hers," Maxxine added with a grin.

Bron looked at you for a second. Then shrugged. "I guess."

Austin rubbed both hands over his face. "This is getting ridiculous."

You laughed. "What?"

"Dude." He pointed at Bron. "You don't realise this isn't normal, do you?"

Bron frowned. "What isn't?"

"You."

"What'd I do?"

"You remember everything about her."

Bron looked over at you again. His gaze lingered for just a second. Not analysing. Not searching. Simply, familiar. Like he knew you as well as he knew himself. Then he looked back at Austin. "I mean" Another shrug. "I look at her."

Austin stared. "I'm surrounded by lunatics."

You felt warmth spread through your chest at those four simple words. I look at her.

He hadn't meant them to sound romantic. He'd said them with complete sincerity. As though paying attention to you was the easiest thing in the world. As though it had never occurred to him that there was any other way to love someone.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

House shows were, in your opinion, one of the better parts of touring. There were no television production meetings, no endless media obligations, no rushing from one interview to the next.

Just wrestling, travel and enough free time to actually explore whatever city you'd landed in.

The afternoon before the show found you, Bron, Austin and Maxxine wandering through a quiet street lined with independent cafés and little family-owned shops.

Austin had insisted he wanted coffee. Twenty minutes later, he'd somehow accumulated a pastry, an iced drink and a paper bag full of sweets.

"I don't appreciate the judgement," he said, catching you looking at the overflowing bag.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"I absolutely was."

Maxxine laughed, slipping her arm through Austin's. "You've bought enough sugar to survive the apocalypse."

"You never know."

Bron walked beside you, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans, his sunglasses resting on top of his head despite the clouds beginning to roll in. He wasn't saying much. He rarely did. He seemed perfectly content simply walking next to you, close enough that your shoulders brushed every now and then as you moved down the pavement.

It was comfortable, easy, the kind of silence that never needed filling. Then your attention drifted to a shop window. A small independent record store sat nestled between a florist and an old bookshop. Vintage posters covered the glass, vinyl sleeves filled the display, a handwritten sign in the window simply read: COME HAVE A DIG.

You smiled. Bron noticed immediately. "You wanna go in?"

You looked at him. "Can we?"

He gave one small nod. Austin groaned dramatically.

"A record shop?"

"You don't have to come."

"I don't understand vinyl."

"You don't have to."

He sighed. "I'll suffer for friendship."

"You'll survive."

"You don't know that."

Maxxine rolled her eyes affectionately. "You'll live."

The little bell above the door chimed softly as all four of you stepped inside. The shop smelled faintly of old paper, polished wood and coffee from the café next door. Music played quietly through old speakers somewhere near the back. Rows upon rows of vinyl stretched across wooden shelves, organised alphabetically with handwritten dividers. You exhaled softly. "I love places like this."

Bron glanced over. "I know."

You wandered off almost immediately, fingertips brushing lightly over album covers as you moved through the rows. Some you recognised instantly, others you'd never seen before, there was something calming about it. No rushing, no agenda, just browsing. Bron followed a few steps behind. Not because he had any particular interest in records. Mostly because he liked watching you enjoy things.

Every so often you'd stop. Tilt an album towards the light. Read the back. Smile to yourself before sliding it carefully back into place.

Meanwhile Austin had already become bored. He leaned towards Maxxine. "How long do you think this takes?"

She smiled. "As long as she wants."

"I've never understood records."

"You don't have to."

"I just don't get why anyone would buy music that big."

Maxxine laughed. "They're collectors' items."

"They're giant circles."

She ignored him.

Across the shop, you stopped in front of another display. One album caught your eye immediately. Beautiful artwork. Deep forest greens and muted golds wrapped around an illustrated woodland scene. You gently lifted it from the shelf. "Hm."

Bron noticed. You turned it over, reading the track list.

The artwork alone almost convinced you to buy it, almost. "It is pretty," you murmured.

Bron looked at the cover. "Yeah."

"I've never listened to them."

"You could."

"I could."

You smiled to yourself before carefully sliding it back into its place.

"What?" Bron asked.

"It's probably not sensible."

"You want it."

You shrugged. "A little."

"So get it."

You smiled faintly. "I don't really need another record."

"You don't."

"I've already got loads."

"You do."

"And they're expensive." You gave the sleeve one last fond glance before stepping away. "It'll still be here for someone else."

Bron watched you walk towards the next aisle. His eyes lingered on the space you'd just left behind.

Then, quietly, he doubled back.

You'd completely forgotten about the record by the time the four of you reached the arena. The afternoon disappeared into training, hair and makeup, warm-ups. Before long, you were back in your hotel room after another successful show, having changed into an oversized band T-shirt and a pair of loose joggers.

A knock sounded at your door.

You didn't even have to ask who it was. "It's open."

Bron stepped inside carrying two takeaway teas. Standard. Almost every evening ended this way. He handed one to you before sitting beside you on the sofa. "You survived."

"So did you."

"Barely."

You smiled, taking a sip. The comfortable silence settled almost immediately.

Then Bron reached down beside his feet. "I got you something."

You looked over. "You what?"

He held out a brown paper bag. Your eyebrows lifted. "Bron."

"What?"

"You know you don't have to keep buying me things."

"I know."

You accepted the bag anyway. It felt flat. Square. Curiosity slowly replaced amusement as you folded back the top.

Then froze, the record, the exact one from the shop.

You stared at it. "Bron."

He looked up from his coffee. "What?"

"You went back."

"Mhm."

"When?"

"After you looked at candles."

"You disappeared I thought you went to the bathroom."

"I did."

"And then?"

"I bought it."

You looked back down at the album cover. "I told you I wasn't getting it."

"I know."

"So why”

He frowned slightly, as though it was obvious. "You kept picking it up."

"I picked it up once."

"Three times."

You blinked. "Three?"

"You looked at it, you put it back, you walked away, you came back, you looked again." He counted it off on his fingers like he was reciting something completely ordinary. "You smiled every time."

Your throat tightened. You hadn't even realised you'd gone back to it. "You remembered that?"

"You wanted it."

"I said I didn't need it."

"You didn't." Another shrug. "But you wanted it."

Silence filled the room. You carefully traced your thumb over the edge of the sleeve. "I don't even know if I'll like the music."

"You liked the artwork."

A quiet laugh escaped you. "I did."

"It'll look good with the others."

You looked up. "You've noticed my records?"

"They're colour organised."

"You've looked?"

"I live there half the week."

You couldn't help smiling. "You've memorised my shelves."

"I guess."

There it was again. That same answer. Not dramatic. Not intentional. Just honest.

You looked down at the record once more before shaking your head with a quiet laugh. "You know"

"What?"

"I think you pay more attention to my life than I do."

Bron looked genuinely puzzled. "I just look."

You laughed softly. "I know."

No. That wasn't quite right anymore. He didn't just look, he noticed. Every single time.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

The last box left your apartment just after four in the afternoon. The front door stood open, letting a warm breeze drift through rooms that sounded strangely unfamiliar without furniture softening the echoes. For the first time in nearly four years the apartment looked empty.

No records lined the shelves, no blankets were draped over the sofa, no candles flickered on the windowsill. Even the little glass whale Bron had bought you months earlier had disappeared into a carefully labelled box.

You stood in the middle of the living room, your hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie as you looked around one final time. It felt odd. Like someone had quietly erased all evidence that you'd ever lived there.

Behind you, Bron taped another box shut before glancing up. "You okay?"

You nodded automatically.

He watched you for another second. "You don't look okay."

A quiet laugh escaped you. "I am."

"You sure?"

You looked around the room again. "It's just weird."

He waited. You appreciated that about him. He never rushed you into filling silences. "I've lived here since I got signed. My first apartment. My first place that actually felt like mine." You smiled faintly. "I know it's only walls."

"They're your walls." You looked over at him. He was already watching you.

"They've seen a lot."

He nodded once. "They have."

You smiled to yourself. "You know” You looked towards the patch of wall where your record player had always lived. "I learnt how to cook in this kitchen."

"You burnt toast."

"I burnt everything."

"You nearly set the smoke alarm off."

"I definitely did."

"The neighbours hated you."

"They absolutely did."

A laugh escaped both of you. The heaviness eased, if only a little. You wandered slowly through the apartment one last time. Your fingers brushed lightly over the empty bookshelf, the windowsill. The doorway where you'd measured yourself against the frame after every new pair of wrestling boots, convinced they somehow made you taller.

Bron followed a few steps behind, quiet. Content to simply be there.

You stopped in front of the bare wall where your records had lived. "It doesn't even look like my apartment anymore."

"No." He stepped beside you. "It doesn't."

You glanced sideways. "You know what I'm going to miss most?"

"What?"

"The little routines, the coffee by that window, the record every Sunday morning, the candle I always lit when it rained."

Bron looked around the room like he was memorising it. Then he nodded once. "We'll have new ones."

Not you.

We.

The word settled warmly in your chest.

You smiled. "I'd like that."

The new apartment felt impossibly bright, boxes filled every room. Austin immediately dropped one beside the kitchen island before dramatically wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. "I've earned pizza."

"You carried two boxes," Maxxine said.

"They were emotionally difficult boxes."

"They had towels in them."

"They were still heavy."

You laughed, shaking your head.

Bron disappeared into the bedroom with another armful of boxes. You assumed he was unpacking.

Instead a few minutes later he reappeared carrying a long, neatly wrapped package. He stopped in front of you. "This is yours."

You frowned. "Bron."

"What?"

"We're literally moving house."

"I know."

"So why have you bought me something?"

He shrugged. "'Cause we're moving house."

You laughed. "I don't think that's how this works."

"It is."

"It definitely isn't."

Austin looked up immediately. "Oh, he's bought another present."

Maxxine smiled knowingly. "I wondered how long it'd take."

You accepted the parcel with an amused shake of your head. "You really didn't have to."

"I know."

Carefully peeling back the paper, you revealed a beautifully crafted wooden record stand. Simple oak, clean lines, a small brass plaque fixed to the front.

NOW PLAYING

For a second you just stared. Your fingertips traced the smooth wood. "Bron."

He shifted slightly on his feet. "What?"

"This is” You swallowed. "This is beautiful."

He nodded towards it. "You never had anywhere for the one you were listening to."

Your eyes lifted. "What?"

"In your old apartment, you'd lean it against the speaker." He mimed the angle with one hand. "It kept falling over."

Your mind immediately replayed it. Every Sunday morning. Coffee. Music. The sleeve propped awkwardly against the record player because you always meant to buy a stand and never had.

"You remembered that?"

"You kept saying you'd get one."

You blinked. "I did?"

"You never did, so" Another one of those familiar little shrugs. "I did."

Silence settled over the room.

Austin looked between the two of you before quietly muttering, "That's ridiculous."

Maxxine smiled. "What?"

"He notices everything."

You looked back down at the stand in your hands. Not expensive. Not flashy. Just exactly right.

Bron scratched absent-mindedly at the back of his neck. "I thought" He glanced around the apartment. "first record in the new place should have somewhere to go."

Your throat tightened. It wasn't really about the record stand. It was the fact that he'd thought about your first morning here. He'd pictured you making coffee, choosing an album, starting a new routine.

He hadn't just bought you furniture. He'd imagined your life.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him before he had time to react. His hands settled naturally around your waist. "Thank you."

He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head. "You like it?"

You laughed quietly into his hoodie. "I think" You looked up at him. "you're making it very difficult for me to pretend you aren't romantic."

He frowned immediately. "I'm not."

Austin barked out a laugh from the kitchen. "Brother, you bought her a custom record stand because you noticed she leaned albums against the speaker."

Bron looked genuinely confused. "Yeah?"

Austin pointed dramatically. "That is the most romantic thing you've done all year."

Bron glanced down at you. Then back at Austin. "I just noticed."

You smiled to yourself. There it was again. Not poetry. Not speeches. Not grand declarations.

Just simple words that somehow meant everything.

I just noticed.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

A month later, the apartment finally felt lived in, the last moving boxes had disappeared. Your records filled the shelves again, plants had reclaimed every windowsill. The little oak record stand Bron had given you sat proudly beside the player, displaying whatever album happened to be spinning that evening. It had become part of your routine. Coffee, music, dinner, home.

You'd never realised how quickly somewhere unfamiliar could begin to feel like yours.

A quiet knock sounded against the open apartment door before Austin wandered in carrying a pizza box. "I'm here."

"We noticed," you called from the kitchen.

Maxxine followed behind him with a bottle of wine balanced carefully against her shoulder.  "You said casual dinner." Austin held up the pizza. "I understood the assignment."

"You understood takeaway."

"I also understood the assignment."

Bron appeared from the hallway carrying four glasses.

The evening settled into the kind of comfortable rhythm you'd all fallen into over the past few

months. Pizza disappeared, Austin lost spectacularly at cards, Maxxine laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink twice, music played quietly in the background from your record player.

Eventually, Austin wandered into the living room, looking around as though seeing the apartment properly for the first time. "It already looks like you've lived here for years."

You smiled. "It feels like it."

He nodded towards the shelves. "Still alphabetised?"

"Colour coded."

"That's somehow worse."

"It's absolutely better."

"I'll never understand you."

Bron, who was clearing empty plates into the kitchen, looked over without missing a beat. "The jazz section's alphabetical."

Austin blinked. "What?"

"The rest is colour." Silence.

Maxxine slowly looked at Bron. "You know how her records are organised?"

He frowned. "Yeah."

Austin looked at you. "I'm not asking him questions anymore."

You laughed. "Wise choice."

Later that evening, after Austin and Maxxine had headed back to their hotel, the apartment settled into a comfortable silence. Rain tapped softly against the windows, the city outside blurred beneath streaks of water.

You wandered into the kitchen to make tea while Bron disappeared into the hallway. You assumed he was checking the lock. Instead he returned carrying a small paper bag.

You looked over your shoulder. "What's that?"

He held it out. "You forgot something."

"I did?" You frowned. "I don't remember buying anything."

"You didn't."

Another gift. You laughed quietly. "Bron"

"What?"

"You've got to stop doing this."

"I do?"

"You're making everyone think you're secretly romantic."

"I'm not."

"You keep saying that."

"'Cause I'm not."

Smiling to yourself, you accepted the bag, inside was a candle, simple, matte black glass, no ribbon, no dramatic wrapping.

You lifted the lid. The scent hit you almost instantly. Cedar, a little vanilla, rain, old books, something warm you couldn't quite place. You froze. Your smile faded into something quieter. "Bron."

He looked up from where he was putting mugs away. "What?"

You brought the candle a little closer. "This."

"What about it?"

Your chest tightened unexpectedly. "It smells" You stopped. Then looked at him. "Like my old apartment."

Bron nodded once. "Yeah."

Silence filled the kitchen. You stared at the candle. He hadn't bought something that smelled nice. He hadn't picked the most expensive one.

He'd found, this.

"You remembered?"

He looked confused by the question. "You always lit that cedar candle." You swallowed. "The one by the window, you'd make coffee, put music on, open the balcony door." He spoke so casually. As though he was simply describing the weather. "When it rained" He glanced towards the window where droplets still slid slowly down the glass. "the whole apartment smelled like that."

Your eyes stung. You hadn't even realised you'd stopped buying that candle after you moved. Somehow, without thinking, that smell had disappeared from your life.

Bron had noticed. Not because you'd mentioned it. Not because you'd complained.

Simply because it had changed.

"I..." You laughed softly, though it came out a little shaky.

"I didn't even realise I missed it."

"I know."

"You knew?"

"Mhm."

"How?"

"You haven't lit a candle since we moved."

You blinked. "Seriously?"

"You always used to." He shrugged. "I figured you forgot, so" He nodded towards the bag. "I got another one."

Your thumb brushed across the cool glass, this wasn't about a candle. It wasn't even about your old apartment. It was about the fact that Bron had quietly recognised that something which had once brought you comfort had vanished during all the chaos of moving.

And instead of pointing it out he'd simply brought it back.

You looked up at him. "Come here."

He crossed the kitchen without hesitation. The moment he was close enough, you reached for his hand. "I've got a question."

"Okay."

"When you buy me things" He nodded. "What goes through your head?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "I dunno."

"You must think something."

Another pause. Then, "You'll like it."

You smiled. "No, I mean before that."

He thought a little longer this time.

"When I see something" His thumb absent-mindedly brushed over your knuckles. "I picture where it'll go." You stayed quiet. "The record stand, next to your player. The hoodie, you'd wear it after shows." A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "The candle" He looked down at it. "I thought it'd make this place feel like home."

That was it. The tears came before you could stop them.

Bron's expression immediately shifted. "Hey."

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

You laughed through the tears, shaking your head. "Nothing."

"You sure?"

You nodded. "You're just" You looked around your apartment, st the records. The wooden stand. The framed print. The hoodie hanging over the chair. Now the candle. "You keep giving me little pieces of a life."

Bron looked around too, as though trying to see what you saw. "I just wanted it to feel like ours."

You reached up, cupping his face with both hands. "It does."

Outside, the rain continued to fall. Inside, you lit the candle. Within minutes, cedar and vanilla began drifting gently through the apartment. You closed your eyes for just a second. It smelled exactly like rainy Sundays in your old home.

Only now when you opened your eyes again Bron was standing in the kitchen. Waiting for the kettle to boil. Looking completely at home there.

The smell hadn't brought you backwards.

It had simply carried your favourite part of the past into a future the two of you were building together.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

A week later, RAW had rolled into Chicago. The arena was already alive when you arrived. Production crew hurried through the corridors balancing cameras on their shoulders. Music drifted from the ring where rehearsals were already underway. Someone somewhere was loudly arguing about catering, business as usual.

You'd just finished getting changed when Maxxine appeared in the doorway of your locker room. "You busy?"

You looked up from lacing your boots. "For you?"

She smiled. "I need coffee."

"I thought that's why catering existed."

"It does."

"I don't want catering coffee."

You laughed. "So I'm your excuse?"

"Exactly."

You stood, grabbing your hoodie from the back of the chair. "Come on then."

The café across the road from the arena had become something of a tradition whenever schedules allowed. It was quiet, smelled permanently of fresh coffee and cinnamon.

Most importantly it was just far enough away that fans rarely wandered inside. You and Maxxine settled into your usual corner with two coffees between you.

For a while, conversation stayed light, travel, gear, matches.

Austin accidentally shrinking one of Maxxine's jumpers in the hotel laundry. "He swore he followed the label."

"I don't think Austin's ever followed instructions in his life."

"He looked genuinely offended when I said that."

You laughed. "I would've paid to see his face."

Maxxine smiled into her coffee before tilting her head. "So"

You already recognised that tone. "What?"

"I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous."

"It is."

You took another sip. "What about?"

"You."

You groaned quietly. "Oh no."

"And Bron."

"There it is."

She laughed. "I've noticed something."

"You and everyone else."

"No" She leaned forward slightly. "I mean something different."

You rested your chin on your hand. "I'm listening."

She was quiet for a moment. "Has Bron ever bought you something he likes?"

You frowned. "What?"

"A gift." She shrugged. "Has he ever picked one because he thought it was cool?"

You blinked. "I" Your mind immediately started running through every present. The hoodie, the record stand, the vinyl, the candle, even the earrings he'd insisted matched your gear. "No."

Maxxine nodded once. "I didn't think so."

You looked down into your coffee. "I've never really thought about it."

"I have." She smiled. "Because Austin bought me a jumper last week."

You laughed. "What was wrong with it?"

"It was bright orange."

"That sounds like Austin."

"It absolutely sounded like Austin."

She grinned. "He bought it because he thought it was fun." You smiled. "And Bron, he never does that."

You looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She stirred her drink slowly. "The hoodie. You'd already wear something like it. The record stand, you already had the records. The candle. You'd had that scent for years." She paused. "He's never tried to change what you like."

The words settled over you. You'd never considered it before. Bron had never bought you something because he wanted you to become someone different. He'd never tried to influence your style or your hobbies or your home. Every gift had simply supported the person you already were.

"He pays attention," Maxxine continued quietly. "But not in a" She searched for the right word. "controlling way." You nodded slowly. "He just sees you."

There it was again. Those words. You remembered Austin joking that Bron had no idea how romantic he was.

You remembered Bron saying, I just notice.

You remembered him describing where your record player sat.

The mugs you reached for. The earrings that matched your gear. The candle you'd stopped lighting. Every single gift had started with the same question.

What would make her smile?

Not,  What do I want her to like?

You smiled to yourself. "I don't think he even realises he's doing it."

Maxxine laughed. "Oh, he definitely doesn't."

"He'd deny it."

"He absolutely would."

The two of you shared a knowing smile. After a moment, Maxxine spoke again. "You know my favourite one?"

"The record stand?"

She shook her head. "The candle."

You looked up. "Really?"

She nodded. "Because." Her smile softened. "that wasn't about an object."

"No."

"That was him noticing you'd lost a feeling." Your throat tightened. "He brought it back."

You looked out through the café window for a second. Rain clouds were gathering over the city. Typical.

You smiled. "He did."

Back at the arena, you wandered through the backstage corridors with Maxxine, still thinking about the conversation. You rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into Bron.

"There you are."

"There I am."

He looked between you and Maxxine. "You got coffee."

"Mhm."

He reached out without thinking, gently brushing a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. "You've got foam."

"What?"

"Here." His thumb caught the tiny drop of milk on the corner of your mouth before he stepped back as though he'd done nothing unusual.

"You missed a bit."

You stared at him for half a second. "Thanks."

He wandered off towards Gorilla Position before either of you could say anything else. Maxxine waited until he'd disappeared around the corner. Then she looked at you. "He didn't even think about that."

You smiled. "I know."

"He just saw it." You watched the empty corridor where Bron had vanished and suddenly you realised that was exactly how he'd loved you from the very beginning. Not through speeches, not through grand gestures. But through hundreds of tiny moments where he simply noticed something before anyone else did. A loose thread, an empty wall, a favourite scent, a worn-out hoodie, a smile in a record shop.

Things everyone else walked straight past. Things Bron never seemed capable of missing and somehow that made you feel more loved than any bouquet of flowers or expensive necklace ever could.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

The drive home after RAW was quieter than usual. Not awkward, just comfortable.

Chicago's skyline slowly disappeared in the rear-view mirror, replaced by long stretches of motorway illuminated by orange streetlights. The radio played softly in the background. Bron drove with one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel, the other occasionally tapping absent-mindedly against the centre console in time with whatever song was playing.

You watched the lights blur past outside your window. Your conversation with Maxxine had refused to leave your head all evening. She'd been right. Every single gift sitting in your apartment had started with the exact same thing. Bron had noticed something. Not something expensive, not something dramatic. Just, something.

You glanced across at him.

His attention never left the road. "What?"

You smiled. "You know me too well."

He looked over for half a second before returning his eyes to the motorway. "I do?"

"You knew I was looking."

"I could feel it."

A laugh escaped you. "That's terrifying."

"It's true."

"You are impossible."

He smiled to himself. "So I've been told."

By the time you got home, it was nearly midnight. The apartment greeted you with the familiar scent of cedar from the candle you'd lit before leaving for the arena that morning. The hallway lamp cast a warm glow across the living room, the record stand sat beside the player, your leather jacket hung from the hook by the door, the framed print rested above the records.

Little pieces of your life. Little pieces of him. Bron disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on, of course he did.

Tea before bed had become another one of your routines.

You wandered slowly around the living room while the kettle began to hum. Your fingertips brushed over the edge of the record stand. The charcoal hoodie folded over the arm of the sofa. The candle still flickering gently on the windowsill. Then... You opened the small cupboard beneath the record player. Inside sat a little collection of things Bron had given you over the past year. The record, the earrings, the tiny ceramic raven. The leather care kit he'd bought after noticing you spent ages cleaning your favourite jacket with an old T-shirt because you "never got around" to buying proper supplies.

Even that. He'd noticed. You laughed quietly to yourself.

"You laughing at me?" Bron called from the kitchen.

"Maybe."

"I haven't even said anything."

"You don't have to."

He walked back into the room carrying two mugs. He handed one to you before noticing what you'd been looking at. "Oh."

You glanced down at the cupboard. "I was just..,"

"You were organising."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I was thinking."

He nodded once. "Okay."

You closed the cupboard gently. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"You have to answer honestly."

"I always do."

"I know."

You sat down on the sofa, tucking one leg beneath you. Bron sat beside you, turning slightly so he was facing you. For a moment you simply looked at him. Then you asked the question that had been sitting in the back of your mind all week. "Why do you always buy me things?"

He frowned. "'Cause I like buying you things."

"I know but" You searched for the words. "It's never random."

"No."

"You never buy something because it's expensive."

"No."

"You never buy something because it's trendy."

"No."

"You always" You looked around the apartment. "buy something that fixes something." You smiled softly. "They all solve a problem I didn't even realise you knew about."

Bron looked down into his mug for a second. "I guess."

"You guess?"

He shrugged. "I don't really think about it."

"Then what do you think about?"

Silence stretched between you. Not uncomfortable. Just thoughtful.

Finally, he spoke. "I see stuff." You waited. "You'll stop walking outside a shop."

"Mhm."

"You'll pick something up. You'll put it back. You'll look at it again." He looked at you. "I know you." Your chest tightened. "You sigh when your jacket zip sticks. You move records around when you can't decide what to play, you light candles when you've had a bad day, you wear silver when your gear's got silver on it, you always drink from the black mug if you're tired." He smiled just a little. "You don't notice you're doing any of it. So” Another shrug. "I do."

There it was again. So simple, so very Bron. You laughed softly, feeling tears prick unexpectedly behind your eyes. "You know"

"What?"

"I used to think gifts were about the thing."

He tilted his head slightly. "They're not."

"They're about being seen."

His brow furrowed, considering your words. "I suppose."

You shook your head. "No."

"You don't suppose."

"You've been showing me that for over a year." You reached for his hand. "Every present you've ever bought me" Your thumb traced slow circles over his knuckles. "has told me the exact same thing." He looked at you expectantly. "You pay attention."

He smiled. "I do."

"You make me feel like nothing about me is too small to matter." He stayed quiet. "The way I organise my records, my favourite hoodie, the candle I forgot to replace, the wall I kept saying I'd decorate, my coffee, my jewellery." You laughed through the tears now. "You remember all of it."

Bron squeezed your hand gently. "'Cause it's you."

The room fell silent. Not because there was nothing left to say. Because that was enough. As though that explained everything. As though loving you had made remembering effortless.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. "I don't think you realise how loved you make me feel."

"I try."

"I know."

"No." He shook his head gently. "I don't try."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

His eyes met yours. "I don't have to remember." He smiled, that small, quiet smile that only ever seemed to belong to you. "I just do."

Your heart ached. Because you believed him. He wasn't making lists in his head. He wasn't buying gifts because he thought he should. He simply carried little pieces of you everywhere he went.

Without effort. Without expectation.

Because somewhere along the way the details of your life had become part of his.

You leaned in the rest of the way, kissing him softly. When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again.

"So..." He murmured. "You like the gifts?"

You laughed so hard you had to hide your face against his shoulder. "I love them."

He wrapped an arm around your waist. "Good."

A comfortable silence settled over the apartment once more. The candle flickered gently on the windowsill, the record player hummed quietly in the corner.

Outside, rain began to patter softly against the glass.

Inside, surrounded by every thoughtful little gift he'd ever given you, you realised something.

Bron had never really been giving you presents. He'd been leaving behind proof. Proof that, in a world where everyone was always rushing to the next town, the next show, the next airport, someone had always been paying attention.

And somehow, that was the greatest gift of all.

[bamhausen]

Triple H + Pinterest & text posts

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Sweetest Shawnter Sunday of the day ❤️❤️

Source: Shawn Michaels's Mixtape on WWE Vault

[angelsxoblivion]

This is my favorite moment of them, it’s so sweet 🥲 them holding each other 🙃 and Shawn’s smoochie

[cravinghbshizzle]

"that's the damn Triple H" 😭💀

[the-fandom-abyss]

Through the Screen

Charlexa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut ☆

Word Count: 1,715 words

Warnings: 18+, fingering (R receiving), cunnilingus (R receiving), squirting, dirty texts, Alexa pissing off Charlotte by using you

A/N: I'm extremely nervous about this fic, smut is not my speciality. I'm open to feedback though, please enjoy!

Alexa's calloused hands gripped firmly at your thighs, pulling them open to ensure complete visibility. She licked her lips, her pupils darkening at the glistening sight before her. Her goal was to annoy Charlotte but she had no idea how receptive you'd be. It sweetened the whole experience, pushing Alexa to further the teasing. Her breath fanned over where you needed her most, the sensation causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"Baby, what is Lexi doing?" Charlotte questioned, her voice filtering through the speaker. She grew tired of the games, only being able to see the top half of you, fully clothed like you haven't been touched. A stark contrast to what was below, as you laid bare with the warmth of Alexa between your thighs.

"She's getting a bite to eat" you responded with a soft tone, neediness clouding your brain. Charlotte knew that was a lie, she could hear it in your voice. She scoffed, she knew you were trying to spare her feelings. While Alexa riled her, you tried your best to calm her. It's the duality that caused Charlotte's heart to pound and an ache to form. She couldn't blame you, not really. You were her innocent baby, this plan would have never crossed your mind, it was Alexa's dirty thoughts that coerced you. Something that she would have to pay for once Charlotte comes home.

Alexa continued to slowly kiss your inner thighs, her lips and tongue dragging across your soft skin. She wanted a show, she needed you to whine and beg. She wanted nothing more than for you to unravel at the slightest of touch, oh the pride of making you come undone in front of Charlotte would be her ultimate satisfaction. Her grip traveled from your thighs to your hips, pushing down gently to secure you in place. She looks up, a mischievous grin formed on her lips, it was simply predatory. Your breath hitched at the sheer force, looking down at her with blown pupils.

"I wish you were here Char" turning your attention back to the screen. The words having a visible effect on Charlotte, her jaw clenching and her shoulders tightening. Charlotte knew you missed her on a more emotional level but the undertone of submission, screamed that you wanted her on top. The place where she belongs in intimate moments, guiding you, teasing you, expressing how much she wants to ruin you. "My Queen of the Ring" was gasped, your eyes screwing shut at the sensation. Alexa perfectly timed her tongue with your sentence, slowly drawing lazy circles around your clit. The warmth and speed did nothing for the burning desire you felt in the pit of your stomach. Alexa's hands firmed on your hips as you tried to gain friction, anything to quell the waves.

Charlotte watched with baited breath, her knuckles growing white as she clenched her fists. The term of endearment mixed with the delicious need for her, caused a rush of heat to her core. She wanted nothing more for you to relieve her of this burden, for you to call her titles until she was filled with bliss. "Alexa enough!" Charlotte demanded, hoping that it would be final. The command only furthered Alexa's movements, her tongue running along your slit, teasingly dipping inside you. A smile curved her lips, something that you could feel on your hot skin. That only spurred you on, knowing the effect it had on both women, it made you feel powerful.

"Please don't stop" a contrast to Charlotte's earlier demand, the only instructions that Alexa will listen to. Your hands found purchase in Alexa's hair, gently pushing her further into your core. Charlotte watched as your eyes closed, lips parted and a breathy moan slipped past your lips. Alexa's tongue dipped inside, her nose brushing against your clit in a delicious rhythm. Frustration was building within Charlotte, hearing your pleasure but not being able to see was torture. "Alexa" She warned, her teeth gritted and her patience wearing thin. At the warning, Alexa removed her tongue, her two fingers ran through your slick folds, gathering your growing wetness. Teasingly, she circled where you needed her most. A desperate whine filled the room, your hips twitched in response.

"This is cruel" Charlotte added, breaking the intense silence, her own hips slowly rutting against the chair, trying to gain some friction for the heat that was building. Alexa's grin was so bright as she looked up to you, like a predator about to devour their prey. "This is only the beginning" Alexa stated, her fingers slipped into you with ease, punctuating her sentence. A deep moan rippled through you, fingers tightening in Alexa's hair. She set a steady rhythm, your walls tightened around her, pulling her in further, deeper. "Look at our girl Charlotte" Alexa was beaming with pride, while Charlotte looked on, yearning. Her hand moving it's way to your chest, palming your clothed breast. This was the first movement Charlotte could see, her eyes trained on the hardening nipple underneath the shirt. Charlotte continued to rut, her hips now moving faster, growing desperate with the heightening scene. "She's our good girl" Alexa praised, her fingers pinching your nipple with the next thrust of her fingers. The praise caused your cheeks to turn a shade of pink, turning to look at Charlotte on the screen. The light was dim in the room that Charlotte occupied, yet you could see her blue eyes turn dark and her body rock back and forth.

"All yours" the words were like gasoline to Charlotte, her body now on fire from the confession. Her fingers twitched by her side, wanting nothing more than to be able to reach out and touch you. Alexa's fingers began to move faster, the sound of your wet core filling the room. Her tongue then traced the outline of your folds, moaning at the raw taste of you. The restraint she once had began to dissolve, leaving her with the desperate need to push you over the edge. Her lips wrapped around your clit, harshly sucking on the bundle of nerves. Eliciting a whine from you, the familiar coil beginning to tighten in your stomach. Her tongue moved like a woman starved, building you to the delicious end goal. Rutting your hips against her face, chasing the high that you needed. "Let me see, princess" Charlotte asked, released with a shaky breath. Removing a hand from Alexa's hair, you moved the camera to reveal Alexa in between your thighs, a groan formed in Charlotte's throat.

Alexa could feel your walls tightening, her fingers barely moving in and out from the force. Her eyes locked with Charlotte's, a sense of accomplishment flourished in her chest at the sight of the Queen's entitled posterior cracking under the pressure. For one last act of punishment, Alexa removed her mouth from between your thighs, her face lifting high enough for Charlotte to see her face. "You little shit" was said through gritted teeth, followed by a gasp from her sensitive nerves bumping the curve of the chair. She focused on the wetness shinning around Alexa's lips, dripping down her chin. What she would give for a taste, for her tongue to swirl with Alexa's. The thought brought a shiver to her spine. Alexa licked her lips, savouring the taste of you on her tastebuds, sending a playful wink to Charlotte. When her tongue returned to your clit, the pressure was close to breaking.

"So fucking tight" she mumbled, the vibration creating a jolt of pleasure. She added a third finger, stretching your centre. The sting of the stretch, mixed with the obscene sounds of your wetness and the look in Charlotte's eyes, it brought tears to your eyes. You felt so full, so whole that you never wanted to feel empty again. Brain turned fuzzy, vision turned hazy and god did it feel euphoric.

"Aww look at her Bliss, she's crying" Charlotte's voice cut through the static of your brain. "Poor baby" she mocked, knowing just what buttons to press to push you deeper into that state. It settled in your mind, lulling your body into a calm state of submission.

"So close" you announce, hips moving fiercely, no rhythm, just chasing the wave. "M gonna…oh god" you panted, two thrusts away from breaking. In one swift move Alexa closed the laptop, disconnecting the call and leaving Charlotte, wet and alone.

"Cum only for me" the command shooting straight to your core, a scream rippled through your throat, the coil snapping instantly. Squirting into Alexa's mouth, her savouring every last drop. It dripped down her chin, soaking her shirt. Her fingers curled inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. She was in heaven, hearing the beautiful sounds you make when you've been broken. The way you coated her fingers, chin and the once spotless lounge. It was all for her, Charlotte would just have to wait.

Once your breathing evened and body calmed to a peaceful lull, Alexa gently pulled out her fingers. A whine escaped you at the empty feeling, your core contracting over nothing, missing the feeling of being full. "You did so well for me" she praised, moving up so she could see your face, flushed and glistening with sweat. She peppered kisses on your skin, before her lips met yours. All you could taste was yourself, it seemed to smother Alexa who grinned.

"That was perfect" Alexa pulled at your shirt, wiping her mouth with the fabric. After all it was the only dry one between you. "Let's get you taken care of" she carefully stood up, outstretching her hand for you to take. She took the lead, taking you to the bathroom, preparing the items needed to bring you back to earth.

When the night poured in through the window, you had settled on Alexa's chest. Her steady heartbeat lulling you into a state of calm. Her fingers drew patterns on your back, while she scrolled on her phone. While your eyes steadily closed, she sent a message to Charlotte, wanting nothing more than to boast about earlier events. It wasn't until the next morning that you had heard from Charlotte and thankfully, she didn't hold it against you.

[samdeancass]

Finally Ours

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Randy Orton x Younger!Female Reader

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Randy, Y/N

Description: Y/N has been secretly dating Randy for nearly a year, hiding their relationship because of their sixteen-year age gap. But when he surprises her with a birthday trip to Florida, a weekend of love, adventure, and stolen moments becomes the beginning of something neither of them wants to hide anymore.

You meet Randy Orton for the first time at a coffee shop in St. Louis. It’s not because you’re a wrestling fan or because he’s famous. You just accidentally spill your entire iced coffee on his black T-shirt.

“Oh my God!” you gasp, grabbing napkins from the counter. “I’m so sorry!”

He looks down at the stain, then at your shocked face, and laughs. His laugh is deep and warm, and it surprises you.

“Well,” he says, taking the napkins from your hands, “at least it wasn’t hot.”

You blink. You know that voice. Your eyes widen. “No way.”

His smile grows.

“There it is.”

“You’re Randy Orton.”

“Guilty.”

You think he’ll be intimidating. You figure he’ll leave after a few minutes. But instead, he sits with you for an hour, talking about movies, dogs, and how he tries not to notice the age difference. He tells you he’s thirty-seven. You say you’re twenty.

For a moment, things feel different between you. It’s not a bad thing. You both just realize how young you are. He keeps glancing at you, obviously trying not to dwell on it.

Nothing happens for weeks, then months.

You text each other. You meet for lunch. You become friends. Randy keeps his distance, even though it’s clear he wants to be closer. He tells himself it’s for the best. You’re younger, he’s older, and people would talk. They always do. But one evening, six months after you first met, you sit together on the tailgate of his truck, watching the sunset.

“You know,” you say casually, “you’re the only person who seems bothered by our age difference.”

Randy sighs. “I’m thirty-seven.”

“And?”

“And you’re twenty.”

You shrug. “Yeah.”

“That’s a sixteen-year gap.”

“I can do math.” He groans, and you grin. “I’m an adult, Randy.”

“I know.”

“So stop acting like I’m going to wake up tomorrow and decide I hate old men.”

His eyes narrow. “Old?”

You laugh. “Oh my God, your eye twitched.”

“It did not.”

“It absolutely did.”

Before he can say anything, you lean over and kiss him. It’s meant to be quick, just to see how he feels. But Randy freezes. Then he cups your face and kisses you back, like he’s been waiting for months. He really has.

You keep it a secret. It’s not because you’re ashamed, but Randy still worries about what the age gap means. You get it. He’s famous, and people online can be harsh. Honestly, you like having him to yourself. Private movie nights, sneaking into restaurants through back doors, and late-night drives with his hand on your thigh.

The world doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

Until your twenty-first birthday. Or rather, the weekend before it.

You wake up to Randy standing beside your bed. “Pack a bag.”

You squint. “It’s six in the morning.”

“Pack.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

You throw a pillow at him. He catches it effortlessly. “We’re going to Florida.”

Your eyes snap open. “…What?”

Three hours later, you’re on a plane.

“You planned this?”

Randy smirks. “Maybe.”

“You’ve had this planned for a while, haven’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Still maybe.” You hit his arm. He laughs.

The first day is spent at Universal Studios. You insist on taking selfies. Randy complains.

“You have like forty already.”

“Forty-three.”

“That’s worse.”

“It’s adorable that you know.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He sighs. “No.”

You drag him onto roller coasters. You make him wear matching Harry Potter scarves. You nearly cry laughing when he reluctantly poses with a giant Minion.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look cute.”

“I am literally covered in tattoos.”

“And cute.”

“Stop saying cute.”

You snap another photo. “No.”

That evening, Randy brings you to the marina. A sleek private yacht waits at the dock.

You stop walking. “…Randy.”

“What?”

“You rented a yacht?”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Normal people buy cake.”

“There’s cake on the yacht.”

You stare at him. “I hate how smooth you are.”

He grins. “Lie.”

The sun goes down over the water. The sun sets over the water. You eat dinner on the deck, your shoes left somewhere behind. You’re curled up next to Randy with your head on his shoulder. For once, he’s relaxed. No hats, no hiding, no checking to see who’s watching. Just the two of you. You scroll through your phone, looking at hundreds of pictures—him laughing, you kissing his cheek, his arm around your waist. Your heart feels full.

“I’m ready.”

He looks down. “For what?”

You hold up your phone. “Us.”

Randy’s expression changes instantly. His smile fades. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“People are gonna talk.”

"I know," you say.

“They’re gonna talk a lot.”

“I know.”

“You don’t deserve that.”

You sit up. “Randy.” He meets your eyes. “I’m not hiding because I’m ashamed.” His face softens. “I’m hiding because you were scared.”

He sighs. “Fair. But I’m not scared.” You smile. “And I don’t think you should be either.”

You pick the photos yourself. The two of you are in front of the Universal globe. A candid of him kissing your forehead. A sunset picture on the yacht.

Randy stares at the upload screen. “Last chance to back out.”

You snort. “Post it.”

“You say that so confidently.”

“I do everything confidently.”

“You absolutely do not.”

“I once cried because I burned grilled cheese.”

“You cried confidently.”

You laugh so hard that you almost drop your phone. Randy shakes his head. Then he posts it. Caption: Finally stopped hiding my favourite person. Happy early birthday, sweetheart ❤️

You stare. Your heart skips. “You called me your favourite person.”

“You noticed that?”

“Shut up.”

The internet blows up with reactions. Some people are happy. Some are shocked. Some are…less kind.

“She’s way too young.”

“What does a twenty-year-old have in common with him?”

“This is weird.”

You expected it, mostly. But seeing thousands of opinions about your relationship still hurts.  Until Randy walks into the room looking guilty. “I’m sorry.”

You blink.“For what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely toward the internet. “The comments.”

You set your phone down. “Randy.”

“I didn’t want you dealing with this.”

You stand, walk over and take his face in your hands. “You’ve spent our whole relationship protecting me.” He looks down. “And now?” You smile. “Now it’s my turn.”

The next day, you post your own photos. Just the happy ones. You and him laughing. The yacht. Universal. His ridiculous Minion picture.

Caption:

Yes, there’s an age gap. No, I don’t care. I’m twenty-one tomorrow. He’s thirty-seven. He’s kind, annoyingly protective, and makes me laugh every single day. If people have opinions, that’s okay. I get to live my life anyway ❤️

The response surprises everyone, especially Randy. Because while some people keep criticising, most don’t. Most see how happy you are. How happy he is. And for the first time since meeting you, Randy stops apologising for loving you.

On your actual birthday, just after midnight, he wraps his arms around you on the balcony of your hotel room. “Happy birthday.”

You smile. “Thank you.”

“No regrets?”

You look back inside at your phones buzzing nonstop, at the pictures, at the life that’s suddenly public. Then you look at him—the man who spent a year trying not to fall in love with you, and failed completely. “Not a single one.”

Randy smiles and kisses you under the Florida night sky. No more hiding. No more secrets. Now, you’re finally his.

[samdeancass]

The Champion's Reward (18+)

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Randy Orton x Chubby!Female Reader

Genre: Smut

Characters: Randy, Y/N

Description: After a devastating loss in the ring, Randy finds a new way to win. When Y/N's deepest, most shameful secret slips out during a moment of passion, the Viper doesn't judge—he becomes obsessed.

The atmosphere backstage is thick with tension. You can feel it in the air, the heavy silence that follows a monumental loss. Randy had just dropped the World Heavyweight Championship to John Cena, and the mood in his locker room is volatile. As his girlfriend and a backstage interviewer, you’re the only person he allows inside the room right now.

You find him pacing, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his muscular frame. He looks lethal, his eyes narrowed, the frustration of the loss radiating off him in waves. When he sees you, that anger doesn't vanish—it transforms. He doesn't want comfort; he wants a release.

He grabs your waist, his large hands digging into the soft curves of your hips, pulling your chubby frame flush against his hard body. He doesn't say a word, just crashes his lips onto yours in a kiss that tastes of salt and desperation. He pushes you back against the equipment trunks, his hands roaming greedily over your thighs and breasts, squeezing your flesh with a possessive intensity that makes your toes curl.

Randy is hitting every single spot. The way he dominates your space, the low growl in his throat, the sheer authority he exudes even in defeat—it’s triggering every hidden nerve in your body. For years, you’ve buried the desire to be dominated, to be small, to call the man over you Daddy. Your ex had turned that preference into a weapon, mocking you and telling his friends how "pathetic" you were for wanting that. You had sworn never to let it surface again.

But Randy is relentless. He rips your clothes aside, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin. When he enters you, he does it with a forceful thrust that knocks the breath out of you. He’s hammering into you, his pace frantic and powerful, driving you toward a peak you can't escape.

In the heat of the moment, as your walls tighten around his cock and your mind goes blank with pleasure, the word slips out.

"Yes... Daddy... please!"

The silence that follows is instantaneous. Randy freezes mid-thrust. You freeze too, your eyes snapping open, your heart hammering against your ribs. Horror washes over you. You try to scramble back, your face flushing a deep crimson.

"I—I didn't mean—I'm sorry, Randy, I—"

Randy doesn't pull out. Instead, he leans in, his eyes dark and predatory, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his lips. He doesn't look disgusted; he looks intrigued. He gives a slow, deliberate grind of his hips, making you gasp.

"What did you just call me?" he whispers, his voice a low, vibrating rumble.

"Nothing," you whimper, shaking your head.

He grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "I heard you. Say it again."

"Randy, please, it's stupid, I—"

"I didn't ask if it was stupid," he growls, thrusting deep into you, hitting your cervix and making your back arch. "I told you to say it again. Now."

Tears of arousal and nerves prick your eyes. "Daddy," you moan, the word feeling like a confession.

Randy lets out a guttural sound of approval and spends the next hour proving exactly how much he loves that word, treating your body like his personal playground until you're a shaking, sobbing mess beneath him.

Over the next few weeks, Randy becomes obsessed. He doesn't bring it up in public, but the moment the door closes, or you're in a secluded hallway, he teases you. He’ll lean down to your ear while you’re prepping for an interview and whisper, "Who do you belong to, baby?" or he'll squeeze your ass firmly, waiting for you to whisper that specific word back to him. He loves the power it gives him, and, more importantly, how much it turns you on.

Then comes the night of the reunion show. You're standing near the catering area when you see a face from your past—your ex, Mark. He’s visiting with a few buddies, and the moment he sees you, that smug, condescending look returns to his face.

He walks up to you, glancing at your curves with a sneer. "Still letting yourself go, I see. Or maybe you're just extra soft for the 'big man' now?" He laughs, leaning in so his friends can hear. "Tell me, you still into that weird Daddy shit? Or did you finally grow up?"

You freeze, the old shame flooding back, making you feel small and exposed. But before you can even stammer a response, a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against a broad, tattooed chest.

Randy looms over Mark, his presence suffocating. He doesn't look angry; he looks amused, which is far more terrifying. He looks down at you with a gaze full of possessive heat before looking back at Mark.

"Something you were saying?" Randy asks, his voice cold.

Mark blinks, intimidated but trying to save face. "Just... reminding her of some of her old habits. You know, the 'Daddy' thing. Pretty pathetic, right?"

Randy’s grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your hip. He lets out a short, dry laugh and pulls you closer, kissing your temple in front of everyone.

"Pathetic?" Randy asks, his voice loud enough for the surrounding crew to hear. "Nah. I love it when she calls me Daddy. It just means I'm doing something right."

The look of absolute defeat on Mark's face is the most satisfying thing you've ever seen. Randy doesn't give him another second of his time. He steers you away, leaning down to whisper in your ear as you walk toward the locker rooms.

"Now, come on. Daddy's got a reward waiting for you for being such a good girl."

[onlyangel4]

RICHMAN. rey mysterio. smau.

sugar daddy!rey mysterio x controversially young!reader

synopsis: moments from the relationship in RICHMAN texts

faceclaim: ari kytsya

y/ninsta

liked by rey619, y/bff, user1 and 2,394 others

y/ninsta: locker rooms, hotel balconies and poolside pics

view all 73 comments

y/bff: old man is gonna eat this up

y/nista: SHHH he has an account now

user1: sheesh let me take you out sometime

y/ninsta: nah

user2: she taken?

y/ninsta: you have no idea

y/ninsta posted a story

written: how is this my life?

rey619 replied to this story: because you deserve it

y/ninsta: you spoil me

rey619: this is nothing, expect even more

y/ninsta posted a close friends story

written: sooooo i'm being flown out to go see special someone !!!!!!!!!!!!

rey619 posted a story

written: for all of you in the locker room saying i'm lucky i raise you this.

y/ninsta replied to this story: you find it endearing

wwespotted

liked by user3, user4, user5 and 34,585 others

wwespotted: i think by now everyone has seen these pictures of rey mysterio outside the airport with a mystery girl. there are even more pictures of them. i have to say his girlfriend looks very young.

view all 9,001 comments

user3: the close up pictures are nuts, she looks younger than dom

user4: is this what money buys you

user5: this doesn't sit right with me at all

user6: the people in these comments are so parasocial, they are both consenting adults let them do what they want.

y/ninsta posted a close friends story

written: guys i'm on tmz does that make me famous

wwefan posted a story

written: guys who the fuck is this gorgeous girl that was ringside last night i think i'm in love

y/ninsta

liked by rey619, y/bff, maxxinedupri and 18,933 others

y/ninsta: spending the week with bae means getting my photographer back.

view all 6,883 comments

rey619: is that all i am to you

user1: holy shit is the hot girl from raw rey's girlfriend

user2: no way he is like double her age

user4: i used to think rey was smart but then i found out his finsta is literally his name

user3: rey mysterio you are one lucky man

user5: girl i hope you are getting paid bank for that charity work

user6: omg that is actually rey mysterio in slide 5

user7: she has to be with him for money not his great personality

user8: this is insane, the cameras kept on showing you all raw last night

user9: i'm kind of obsessed with them

619iamlucha posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: mi reina

[angxlslair]

🅣🅗🅔 🅖🅡🅤🅜🅟🅨 🅟🅤🅝🅚

🍒Pairing: The Shield × Punk!TwinSister!Reader

🍒Fandom: WWE × reader, Wrestler × Reader

🍒Summary: You debuted back in 2006 alongside your twin brother, CM Punk. Quickly being dubbed the Punk twins after you both chose your wrestler name. Originally the two of you were going to go down different paths but the management loved the idea of a pair of twins debuting together. So since debuting the two of you have been by each other’s side for every storyline, and that’s how your path intertwined with The Shield’s

🍒Word Count:6.1k

🍒 Warnings: fighting, Vince McMahon (he will always be a warning)

🍒 Requests: Open (Request Rules)

🍒If you would like to be added to the taglist please comment below or reach out to me:)

🍒: Divider Credits: 🍒 divider @bbyg4rlhelps

💋🚬 divider @strangergraphics

🍒: ||Masterlist||

Elimination Chamber

You followed behind your brother along with Paul Heyman as the three of you finally arrived at the arena. Tonight was the night that he had a triple threat match with Ryback and John Cena, the main event of this year’s Survivor Series. You debuted back in 2006 alongside your twin brother, CM Punk. Quickly being dubbed the Punk twins after you both chose your wrestler names, him with CM Punk, and you following with Cherry Punk. Originally the two of you were going to go down different paths but the management loved the idea of a pair of twins debuting together. So since debuting the two of you have been by each other’s side for every storyline.

And that’s how you ended up here accompanying him and Paul Heyman at Survivor Series. Tonight was going to be an interesting night from what you’ve heard they’re bringing in some new wrestlers to join your brother’s storyline. You continue to follow behind them before you and Paul separate from him so he can go finish up any last minute changes. You follow Paul to where one of Josh Matthew’s was waiting with a camera man.

“Ladies and gentlemen please welcome my guests at this time, Paul Heyman and Cherry Punk.” Paul enters the frame as you hover behind him with your signature scowl on your face, out of the two of you, you were definitely the grumpier sibling. You can hear the crowd from where you stand, a mixture of cheers and boos.

“Paul, CM Punk’s been WWE champion for quite sometime, but does Punk anything left in his bag of tricks to defeat John Cena and Ryback here tonight?”

“Tricks?” Paul scoffs in disbelief at the question before continuing. “Perhaps you can enlighten me Mr Matthew’s as to what tricks or legal advantage CM Punk has exploited during his 364 days as WWE champion?”

“I really can’t think of anything.”

“I didn’t think so.” Paul crosses his arms over his chest as you stand behind him now with a bored expression. You never liked doing these interviews. “See,Josh, you’re just another member of the WWE Universe,a universe that refuses to give CM Punk that credit that he deserves. In the most hyper-competitive environment in WWE history, CM Punk is now the eighth longest reigning champion of all time. Now while John Cena is busy running around chasing after Aj, CM Punk has been busy beating John Cena so many times even I have lost count.”

You rolls your eyes behind Paul at his words, he was such an exaggerator, and he continues his rant. “While Ryback has been taking us back to the caveman era by dragging his knuckles across the ring, CM Punk has been busy making history becoming the first and only man to ever defeat Ryback. I assure you, your reigning defending WWE champion is prepared, prepared tonight to not only survive the triple threat match for the WWE championship but to thrive against John Cena, and Ryback. CM Punk is hands down the best of these three great competitors,because CM Punk it’s not only your reigning, defending WWE champion. CM Punk is hands down the best in the world.”

The crowd cheers at Paul’s words as Josh turns to you. “And what do you have to say about your brother’s upcoming match tonight Cherry?”

“My brother will win, now this interview is over.” You hiss with irritation clear in your tone. Paul puts his hand on your shoulder and starts to guide you away.

“Paul, Cherry, thank you very much for your time.” The cameraman stops the camera and the attention goes back to the commentary team out by the ring. You really hated those interviews, you’d rather just come in do your matches, and leave. You’re not much of a talker, you left all of that to CM Punk and Paul.

“Come along Cherry we’ll be meeting with your brother right before he goes out to the ring.” Paul says in a softer tone than what he normally speaks with. He was always softer with you, when he started working with you and Punk he basically adopted you as his on road daughter. The two of you find your brother and you help him prepare for his match as the other matches continue out in the ring.

When it closer to the main event a stagehand knocks on the door letting the three of you know that there is ten minutes left until the match starts. You finish wrapping your brother’s knuckles with athletic tape, and pat his shoulder as Paul opens the door. The two of you exit the room Punk throwing his arm around your shoulder as he shifts his championship belt on his other shoulder. The two of you have always been close, the twin intuition strong between both of you.

The three of you get to the gorilla area as the last match ends, and the winners music blares through the arena. You see the montage of your brother’s past matches and the history between both opponents as the stagehands get the entrances set up. When Brad Maddox comes on the screen your scowl hardens even more, you couldn’t stand that man. Punk notices the scowl on your face and laughs.

“I don’t why you think it’s so funny Phil.” You mutter, before moving to your position as the montage ends and the sound of the bell fills the arena.

“This is a Triple Threat match for the WWE Championship.” You hear Justin, one of the announcers, say before John Cena’s music fills the arena.

“Introducing the first challenger from West Newbury, Massachusetts, weighing 251 pounds, JOHN CENA!!!” You watch from one of the monitors as John runs towards the ring and slides in as the crowd cheers. As he moves around the ring a stagehand guides the three of you to your spots. Your brother and Paul were going out first then you would appear after them.

Cena’s music fades as your brother’s starts. “Look into my eyes! What do you see? The Cult of personality.” You watch as your brother walks out with Paul a few steps behind him.

“Being accompanied to the ring by Paul Heyman…” His music fades as yours begins.

“The world is a vampire, sent to drain” You make your way out to stand behind your brother with Paul.

“And his sister Cherry Punk, from Chicago Illinois, weighting 218 pounds, he is the current WWE Champion,CM PUNK!” You watch as your brother and Paul do their pre match ritual on the ramp with your arms crossed. You follow the pair down towards the ring as your brother shows off his belt. The crowd is full of cheers as he climbs onto the apron. Paul follows your brother around the ring clapping as Punk and Cena stare towards the ramp as Ryback’s theme plays.

“FEED ME MORE!!”

You roll your eyes at Ryback’s theme as you prop yourself on the barricade behind the commentary team with security guards flanking on the other side to keep the fans at bay. You watch as Ryback comes out and the pyro goes off.

“And the second challenger from Sin City, weighing 291 pounds, RYBACK!!” You watch as the three men stand in the corners of the ring, the referee moves towards your brother to take the belt, and he reluctantly gives it to the referee. The referee signals for the bell as the three men assess each other, and your brother dives out the ring followed by the challengers. You shake your head as the three of them pretty much play ring a round the ring.

“You can see the other half of the Punk Twins sitting on the barricade behind us and Paul Heyman.”

“Yes Cherry Punk who has been by her twins side since he got the championship.”

Ryback clotheslines Punk out the ring which leaves him and Cena in the ring as the WWE universe starts to chant “Let’s go Cena.” and “Cena sucks.” You look at your brother who is sprawled in front of Paul, and the commentary tables.

“Come on you’re really gonna let him do that to you brother.” You say trying to push his buttons, which as always, works. He pushes himself up from the floor,and attacks Ryback from behind. You watch as he suplexes Ryback, and you roll your eyes as he starts to celebrate early.

“Will you stop being stupid.” You yell as Ryback hits him from behind. Punk climbs to the top rope and takes Ryback down to his knee. He climbs back on top of the top rope and jumps, he’s caught by Ryback. Ryback throws him into the corner before ramming his shoulder into Punk’s midsection. He runs to the other side of the ring and gets ready to use the rope to launch himself at Punk who’s ready for the attack. Punk meets Ryback with a drop kick which sends the both of them to the mat. Cena slides into the ring and pins Punk to the mat, who kicks out.

“Will you two stop yelling at each other and focus on the match.” You snapped and to no surprise your brother ends up out of the ring again. Punk brings the fight outside of the ring,slinging Cena into the steps. The match continues with blow after blow and now you watch as your brother and Cena work together outside the ring. They both lift Ryback and send him into one of the commentary tables. Cena and Punk bring the match back into the ring, and Cena get’s Punk into his submission hold.

He doesn’t hold it for long because Ryback is dragging Cena out of the ring by his ankle. He clotheslines him to the floor, and climbs back into the ring as your brother gets up in the corner. Ryback pins Punk to the ring but it’s broken by Cena who slid back into the ring. You watch as Ryback focuses on Cena, and you move to drag your brother out of the ring with Paul. Ryback parades around the ring with Cena on his shoulders before slamming him down on the mat. Before he can pin Ryback down three unknown men slide into the ring and attack Ryback. You watch as all three of them gang up on Ryback and deliver blow after blow on the superstar. They roll him out the ring, following behind him as they clear off the second commentary tables.

You stand up from beside your brother to get better look at the three men, and you recognize them from the NXT roster. It was Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, and Seth Rollins. You watch as the three of them lift Ryback and slam him down into the table. They turn back to the ring and watch as you help your brother slide back into the ring. He crawls towards Cena who is still sprawled out on the mat. Your eyes stay on your brother as Paul keeps his eyes on the trio. Your brother lifts Cena’s leg and the referee starts the count.

One

Two

Three. And the bell rings CM Punk is still the champion.

“The winner of this match, and still WWE Champion, CM PUNK!!!”

You slide into the ring, and help your brother up as the referee lifts his arm. Paul comes around the ring with the championship belt in his hands.

December 2012 and TLC

Over the next few weeks those three men who helped your brother became known as The Shield. They were three wrestlers that they brought in to add to your brothers storyline. They would come out when anyone would attack Punk, and they would even come out to help you by extension sometimes. Then Ryback injured your brother,and he had to have surgery so for the first time since the two of you debuted, you were all alone.

So here you were walking through the halls without him by your side. Thankfully most people steered clear of you once they noticed the scowl on your face. You were even more grumpier without your brother,and you knew you had a target on your back since you had recently been dominating in the ring. You were slowly working your way towards a championship opportunity,and some of the other female wrestlers didn’t like the competition.

Your face was always set in a scowl, and you were even more irritable than before. Any conversation you had was kept short,simple,and straight to the point. What you didn’t expect however was The Shield deciding you were fully under their protection with Punk out of commission. You hadn’t noticed it at first, because you were focusing on your matches. They would follow you at a distance when they weren’t in the ring themselves or dealing with Ryback.

The only reason you noticed them was because Aj said something to you backstage one day. She was one of the only wrestlers you were willing to talk to, and that’s only because your brother has a thing for her.

“How are your guard dogs?” She questioned one day while the two of you were in the locker room.

“Guard dogs?” You ask with a raised eye brow.

“Yeah your guard dogs, The Shield.”

“They aren’t my guard dogs, what makes you think that.” You finish lacing up your combat boot, and drop your leg down.

“Because they’re always following you now. Ever since Phil got injured they’ve become your shadows. Anytime they spot you in the hallway by yourself they start to trail you from a distance.” She explains. You sit there in silence for a moment taking in the information you just found out. That’s when you decided to test this out when you were walking through the hallways towards catering. You purposely walked on the slower side and every few moments you would check behind you to see if they were there.

A few minutes went by before you heard it, footsteps. You turned around to see who it was, and as Aj said it was them. They were about 15 feet behind you, but you could definitely see them. You stop walking as they finally notice you looking at them. Your hands go to your hips as they walk closer to you.

“Can I help you three?” You sighed already tired of the conversation.

“Hmm not really, we’re just walking.” Dean replies with a shrug. You roll your eyes toward the ceiling before dropping them back down.

“Look I know you’ve been following me, and I’m really not in the mood to talk to anyone so I’m gonna be straight forward. What do you want and why are you following me?” You demanded as all three of them share a look.

“We’ve been following you so you’re not alone.” Seth finally admits after a moment.

“We noticed that you were always alone without Punk here, and we know you’ve been gaining a target on your back.”

“So we decided to look out for you until Punk is back.” Dean continues after Seth. Their admission fills your chest with an unfamiliar feeling, and you don’t know how to react.

“Well if you’re gonna do that then stop following me it’s creepy. Just walk with me instead.” You finally say before turning around and continue your walk towards catering. Another moment passes and you hear the footsteps once again as they move to catch up with you. They took your words seriously so now they would walk either beside you or right behind you when you moved through the hallways. They made sure you weren’t bumped into,they would become your personal barrier when an interviewer wanted to talk to you, and they would sometimes accompany you to the ring.

All of these little gestures would make your heart flutter in your chest as they slowly chipped away at your grumpy self. Everytime you were stuck in a social setting your eyes would automatically look for them, and they’ve even started bringing you your favorite snacks or coffee. They were the only ones in the company,besides your brother, Paul, and Aj, that you would actually seek out. Everyone noticed the subtle shifting that was happening between the four of you, you were still grumpy with everyone but you slowly started to soften around the edges with them. They were the only people besides your brother that could touch you without you getting mad.

“Hello baby doll.” Roman’s voice comes from behind you as an arm settles around your shoulders.

“Hello Roman.” You mutter as you continue to wrap your knuckles with your athletic tape. You had a match later in the night so you were doing your final preparations. “Where’s Seth and Dean?”

“They’re on the way they had to stop for something.” He replies as he keeps his arm around your shoulders.

“Your princes are here with gifts princess.” Dean announces as the two of them appear beside you. In Dean’s hand is your favorite drink, and behind him is Seth with your favorite sandwich. You roll your eyes at Dean but slide a little down the bench so they could all sit by you. Seth unwraps part of your sandwich before he hands it to you, and Dean slides a straw into your favorite drink before setting it on the bench beside you.

This has become a ritual for the four of you before matches. They would appear sometimes with snacks, sometimes without, and the four of you would be huddled up in a corner or at a table in catering. Sometimes other wrestlers would do a double take when they would see you in the middle of The Shield, letting them in your personal space, and sometimes even contributing to the conversation. They weren’t used to it and they thought you were replaced by a clone. Sometimes they would even joke about it and then they would realize you were still well you. You would fix them with that stone cold glare, and they would quickly walk away.

You slowly eat your sandwich as you start to go over your upcoming match in your head. The other three knew the look on your face so they all started talking to each other as they let you focus.

You went on to the win that match,and now you were walking through the backstage area for TLC. Your brother was still out of commission but he was here to watch the event with Paul. You didn’t have a match but you were still here for moral support for The Shield who did have a match. And someone was definitely keeping Punk in the loop with you and The Shield, because when he saw you, he started messing with you right away.

“So you and the shield huh? Who are you and what have you done with my sister.”

“Shut up. I didn’t ask for them to become my guard dogs after someone went and got injured.” You shoot back with a small glare.

“Hey. Hey I didn’t ask for Ryback to injure me.” He says as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously you and the Shield?”

You sag into the seat beside his while Paul sits on the other side of the suite. “I don’t even know what’s happening. I was perfectly fine being on my own while you’re out,but then one day Aj pointed out how they were following me. They had made themselves my designated protectors since you’re out of commission. And now they’re always around, they even know when I don’t want to talk, they keep people away, and they always bring me my favorite things.”

“Well my dear sister it sounds like you all like each other.” He says after a moment of processing everything you said. You blink slowly at his words as your brain fully takes them in.

“What! No we don’t they were just making sure I was fine with you gone. They’re here for your storyline not mine.”

“You’re just in denial dear sister. It’s okay if you like them.” He says with a small laugh. “Now go back down there their match should be starting soon.”

You grumble as you get up and make your way back towards the backstage area. He was right their match was getting ready to start soon, and one of the signs that gave it away was a stagehand walking to your brother’s suite with a microphone in hand. Once you’re backstage you easily find them fully decked out in their vests.

“Ah there she is. Our grumpy bear.” Dean says as he notices you finally appearing.

“I told you not to call me that Dean.” You say while flicking his forehead.

“No need to abuse my forehead.” He says as he rubs the spot you flicked.

“Come here to wish us good luck sweetheart?” Seth asks from his spot beside Roman.

“Like you guys need luck.” You scoff. “You guys have been dominating the past few weeks.”

“Come on baby doll we still need some luck. So how about a kiss on the cheek for the luck.” Roman says as he taps his cheek. You roll your eyes as you let out a sigh before kissing his cheek.

“My turn if Roman gets one I do too.” Dean lightly shoves Roman out of the way as displays his cheek to you. Rolling your eyes again you lean and press a kiss to his cheek before doing the same to Seth.

“There you big babies now go.” You grumble as you step to the side to let them pass you. They all smile and ruffle your hair as they follow the stagehand to their entrance area. Meanwhile you move to the gorilla area so you can watch the match with no interruptions. You plop down onto one of the chairs as you see Ryback and Team Hell No on the other side of the area waiting for their signal. You turn your attention to the monitor as you hear the announcer’s voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen please welcome the WWE Champion, up in his personal skybox CM Punk!!!” The camera pans across the arena, and focuses on your brother. The crowd cheers as your brother appears standing with the help of his crutches. Paul stands behind him holding his championship belt up.

“Well,well,well apparently everybody here, and everybody around the world wants the status report on my knee. Tell them Paul.” He holds the microphone out towards Paul.

“Forget about it!” The crowd cheers as Punk pulls the microphone back.

“Now for everyone watching at home that doesn’t understand the ignorant lingo of these Brooklynites, that simply means none of your business. But I will tell you this, it was very hard waking up this morning, and leaving my lovely home of Chicago, and coming to a place like this, and sitting amongst all of you animals. Cry and boo all you want if you don’t like being called an animal you… Perhaps you should move to a place that isn’t just the slums of Staten Island. All of you people cheered two weeks ago when Ryback hurt my knee in the first place. And I understand completely each and every single one of you and Ryback have a ton in common. All of you just like him don’t understand what it’s like to be a champion.” You roll your eyes at your brother’s words, he really liked rage baiting the WWE Universe. You focus back in as your brother continues to talk.

“You’ve never won anything in your entire life. Each and every single one of you just like Ryback, is dumb. And I apologize for being crass but I’m just stating the facts, ladies and gentlemen. Ryback is both dumb and lucky. He’s dumb because he injured me to a point where I can’t compete for my title tonight. And he’s lucky he that injured to a point where I can’t compete for my title tonight. This is Tables, Ladders, and Chairs, kids. I’m the most dangerous man in the WWE,and you wanna put a weapon in my hand?” He wasn’t wrong and you knew that from experience. When the two of you were younger, you both would end up brawling in the living room before your mom would send the two of you outside.

“My track record in TLC matches speak for itself. I would’ve broken every single chair this place has to offer. I would’ve laughed as he clumsily tried to climb a ladder just so I can push him off, I would’ve smashed him through every single table in New York. This isn’t bragging. This isn’t boasting. This isn’t just me being cocky. This is stating fact from fiction because I separate the two. Unlike all of you and Ryback who live in a fantasy world. Fiction is this idea that Ryback is an unstoppable monster because I’ve proven that he’s neither. He’s just a man who I’ve beaten. I beat him single-handedly at Hell in a Cell, I beat him single-handedly at Survivor Series. And tonight, The Shield, who I am a big fan of but have no affiliation with is going to beat him here tonight.” The crowd is full of boos and cheers.

“Here’s another fact, I am the longest reigning WWE Champion of the modern era. The fact is nobody’s gonna take this title away from me, because nobody can. I started 2012 as your WWE Champion and I will end it as such. And the scary thing is I am just getting started.” He pull the microphone down as the camera’s pan to the commentators. Your brother could really talk, and that’s why you don’t ever feel the need to.

“This is the first ever six man tag team, Tables,Ladders,and Chairs match. There will be no count outs and no disqualifications. The only way to win is by pinfall or submission.”

The arena lights up as the pyro goes off before going dark for Kane’s entrance. Red lights fill the arena next as his theme starts to play with him walking out.

“Approaching the ring first, weighing 323 pounds, he is half of the WWE Tag Team Champions. KANE!!” The crowd cheers as he makes his way to the ring, he sets his belt on the mat before climbing up. Kane makes his way into the ring, and the corners light up with fire.

The melody for Flight of the Valkyries plays through the arena next as the crowd begins to chant Yes, Yes.

“Joining him from Aberdeen, Washington,weighing 210 pounds, he is the other half of the WWE Tag Team Champions , DANIEL BRYAN!!” Daniel makes his way to the ring as the Yes chant continues to fill the area.

“FEED ME MORE!!” Ryback’s entrance plays next and your face turns into a scowl as Ryback comes out.

“And from Sin City, weighing 291 pounds, RYBACK!!” Ryback’s makes his way to the ring as you glare at the screen.

“Sierra.”

“Hotel.”

“India.”

“Echo.”

“Lima.”

“Delta.”

“SHIELD!”

The crowd erupts as the Shields intro echos through the arena. They make their way through the crowd and towards the ring as the fans cheer.

“And their opponents at a combined weight of 707, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose.THE SHIELD!!!” Roman splits off from Seth and Dean. All of them jump the barriers and then the area descends into chaos as Daniel, Kane and Ryback slide out the ring and attack them. The referee signals for the bell as they all attack each other. Bodies are flying all around the ring as blows are exchanged.

You hold back a grimace as Ryback sends Dean to the mat. Roman and Seth slide into ring and get Ryback off of Dean. Bodies fly once again as Ryback and Kane are both hit with kicks. Dean and Seth grab the ladder that Kane was trying to slide into the ring as Roman hits Daniel in the corner. Ryback slides back into the ring and takes out Roman before he grabs the ladder hitting Dean and Seth with it. Roman grabs a chair and rams it into the ribs of Ryback. Kane and Daniel get back into the ring attacking Roman in the corner.

You let out a hiss as you see them launch Roman into the ladder, you knew that had to hurt. The match continues as blow after blow is still exchanged, bodies starting to be strewn everywhere. You watch them use their triple power bomb to send Ryback into one of the announcer table.

The match is now back in the ring as Seth and Dean set up a table in the corner. “What the hell are those two doing?” You mutter as they lift Daniel on top of it. They climb up after Daniel, lifting him up they suplex him onto the mat before pinning him to the ground. Kane breaks the pin and sends Roman flying out of the ring using the ropes. The match continues then suddenly you see Roman sending Kane into the time keepers area with a spear. Then the match is brought up the ramp and you watch as Ryback sends Seth flying from the top of the ladder and into the table. You see one of the referees moving to where Seth landed but your own feet are moving before you could even think. Some of the stagehands try to stop you, but they’re stopped by the voice of Vince McMahon.

“Let her go. The fans will love this.”

You shove past the stagehands, and run out onto the ramp. Some of the fans notice you, cheering as you move, but your forces is solely on Seth who is still on the ground.

You slide onto your knees beside him. “Seth..” You call his name as you start to push the broken table off of him. He let’s out a groan as he tries to push himself up. You reach out, gently grabbing his arm and help him sit up. As you’re helping him Dean and Roman take out Daniel successfully pinning him to the mat,and winning the match. The bell rings as their theme plays through the arena.

“Well it looks like you guys won.” You say as Roman approaches with Dean. The two of them move to both sides of Seth, each one grabbing an arm to help lift Seth off the floor. They put his arms over his shoulders as you kick the broken table out of the way. Your brother watched this happen from his sky box and a small smile makes it way onto his face.

“It’s about time someone else got past her grumpy walls.”

The Week after TLC

It’s been a week since the TLC pay per view and your brother was still out of commission. You didn’t know when he would back but you still had The Shield following you. And from what Aj found out, your brother actually set it up so that they would continue. You knew that he would meddle once he had his mind set on something. You were now walking through the backstage area fully decked out in your gear.

You were finally given a title shot against Eve Torres for the Diva’s Championship Title,but you noticed a mischievous look on Vince McMahon’s face. This worried you a little because when he had that look on his face it was never good.

“Why so tense princess?” An arm wraps around your waist from behind, and you already know who it was. Dean. He always had to have a hand on you, whether it’s your shoulders or waist.

“Vince had a look on his face, and I didn’t like it.”

“Don’t stress over it sweetheart. You got this match in the bag.” Seth appears beside the two of you, and this is how Seth was,always hyping you up. Roman appears next, his hands reaching up, and fixing the straps of your gear. Roman was the quiet caretaker of the three,always making sure everyone was good, and taking care of themselves.

“We’ll be watching so don’t worry your pretty head over anything.” Dean says as he ruffles your hair which cause you to grumble and glare at him.

“Five minutes till your match Cherry.” One of the stagehands call from the gorilla area. Dean unwraps his arm from around your waist as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“For good luck.” He says cheekily before Seth pushes him out the way to press a kiss on your other cheek. Roman follows behind pressing a kiss to your forehead,and fixing your hair.

“You got this. Remember we’ll be watching.” They seperate from you as you continue to the gorilla,and you hear Eve’s theme play through the speakers.

“The following match is scheduled for one fall or submission and it’s for the Diva’s Championship. Introducing first, she is the Diva’s Champion, EVERY TORRES!!!” The stagehand nods at you, and you get into your position at the curtain.

“The world is a vampire..” Your themes hits as you push through the curtain and the audience cheers. “Sent to drain, secret destroyers…” You get to the middle of the ramp, kneeling to press your hand to the stage just like your brother.

“Hold you up to the flames.” Pyro lights up around you as you stand up, and crack your neck. Starting to walk towards the ring you crack your knuckles as the announcer speaks.

“And her opponent from Chicago, Illinois, she is half of the Punk Twins, CHERRY PUNK.” You slide into the ring as the referee holds up the championship belt. The referee signals for the bell, and then hands the belt to one of the timekeepers. The bell fills the ring as you and Eve clash in the middle of the ring. The match is brutal neither one of you giving up. You launch Eve into the corner, her back colliding with the middle turnbuckle, and she collapses to the mat. She was in the perfect position for you to use the Cherry Picker, you position yourself in the ring before you start running to gain momentum. Once you’re close to her you launch both feet into the chest of Eve which knocks the wind out of her. You drag her into the middle of the ring, and pin her to the mat. The referee slides down beside you and begins the count. One….two…and she kicks out before the referee can get to three. You go to pull her into your submission move but you’re stopped by a theme coming through the speakers.

“FEED ME MORE!!!”

“What? What is Ryback doing here!” One of the commentators say as Ryback stalks down the ramp his eyes focused on you. You stand up the ring with your guard up, this must be why Vince was making that face earlier. He wanted to cause chaos with your brother even with him out. Ryback doesn’t make it to the ring,because Roman, Seth, and Dean come running down the ramp to stop him. All three of them ram into the back of Ryback and he goes down as they attack. You use this moment to turn back to Eve who was pushing herself up from the mat. Before she can fully get up, you’re knocking her back down to the mat and grab her ankle. You put pressure on her ankle as you get her into your submission move, the Tart Snap. This move traps and puts high pressure on the ankle. Eve thrashes underneath you as she tries to get out of the position.

Outside the ring you can see the boys slam Ryback into the announcer table,and they turn their attention to you. You shift your weight and put more pressure on Eve’s ankle and another minute passes before Eve is frantically tapping the mat. The referee rings the bell as he sees this,and you release her ankle.

“And the winner of this match and your new Diva’s Champion, CHERRY PUNK!!!” The crowd loses it as the energy in the arena skyrockets. The referee brings the belt to you, after handing it to you he lifts your arm in the air as the crowds cheers again. Once he drops it Dean is sliding into the ring, and crashing into you. Seth and Roman follow as Dean lifts you off the ground.

“We knew you could do it!! Our girl is the new Diva’s Champion.” Dean explains as he spins the two of you in a circle.

“Your girl?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah our girl.” Roman says as he ruffles your hair. Seth moves to Dean’s side and the two of them lift you onto their shoulders as you hold the belt in the air. You got the men and the belt all in one night.

Taglist🏷️: @kellenmustdienow @crustyboypix @xnightmarexpunkx @ka4737 @alltypesofanimallover @mini-ranger-recs

[slapmestephanie]

These two share one brain cell and somehow lose it every time

[cravinghbshizzle]

shawn hitting the hurricane pose twice on the same night had me crying lololol he's so silly

[onlyangel4]

crybaby. wlw wwe texts.

wwe superstars x sensitive!reader

featured: maxxine dupri, chelsea green, tiffany stratton, charlotte flair, alexa bliss, sol ruca, tatum paxley, liv morgan and blake monroe

author's note: for my sweet sweet angel baby @onanisticbunny

[triplehbatteries]

2009 cm punk x girly!reader who cleans him up after his matches 🫣…

Lit screamed “YEESSS.” when I got this

🔞MDNI • CW: AFAB!reader or MTF Idc, Smut, cussing, humor ofc!, slightly asshole-ish Punk (if you didn’t expect that.. are we thinkin abt the same person? Lmao), mentions of cuts, bruises, and blood, Punk’s an eaatteerr (we all know this), coochie eating yay, one mention of tears (happy tears hahaha….), NSFW in general cuz Idk

The two of you were on your way to the hotel room together after Punk’s match. You were trying your best not to fret the whole ride there, but the cuts and bruises all over him were fucking with you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked and reached out, the tips of your manicured nails grazing against a big, red bruise on his arm. “I mean, I’m just worried.”

Punk gave you a slight smile, patting your thigh reassuringly. “I keep telling you I’m *fine*. Don’t worry, babe.”

You hummed, not feeling reassured at all. Your gaze went to his face. A nasty cut was on his cheek, crusted with dry blood. That made your stomach turn.

He noticed your wary expression and sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. “Would you relax? I’m okay. I’m right here.” His fingertips gently slid beneath the hem of your dress before coming back out to lightly snap the band of your thigh highs against your skin.

“Well, I’m taking care of you once we get to the hotel.” You declared almost instantly while grabbing his face, tilting it side to side. This wasn’t up for negotiation, and he knew that.

Punk huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t need any—” You cut him off gently, letting go of his face to press a finger up to his pierced lips, the charms on your decorated nail glistening against the passing streetlights. “Don’t argue with me, please. This will make me feel better.”

With a sigh, he finally decided to let it go, knowing you were too stubborn and persistent to let it go.

Once you both made it to the hotel, you were already digging in your bag for a first aid kit you always carried just for him.

At the moment, you genuinely realized you *do* worry too damn much. You couldn’t help it though.

“Sit.” You reached up and gently pushed him down on the bed by his shoulders.

Punk looked up at you in slight anguish as he took in how worried you were over something that was so small to him. “It’s really not that serious, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the small of your back, pulling you close between his legs.

You shook your head, grabbing your half empty water bottle to damp a napkin. “It *is* that serious, baby! I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You pouted while lightly wiping the blood from his cheek. “I’m still not used to seeing this. I don’t think I ever will be.”

Punk forced himself not to wince as to not worry you any further, but that shit hurt lowkey. “Get used to it, babe. You’re dating a fucking wrestler.”

Your pout only deepened at that, but you didn’t respond. After putting a bandage on the cut, you pressed your lips against it. “All better?” That made him chuckled a bit.

NSFW

“All better if that lipgloss of yours didn’t get into the wound, right?” He teased lightly. With a small smile, he slipped his free hand from the back of your thigh, up to your ass. “On a real note, thanks, babe. Means a lot that you give a shit so much.

Punk’s fingers played with the hem of your panties, his hand squeezing your ass. “You did so good taking care of your man. Such a good girl… You doing this cuz you want something from me?”

You shrugged off his teasing and couldn’t help but blush. “No?.. but I mean, if you’re offering then…”

“Oh, I’m offering *for sure*.” He stood up, towering over you. “I’m gonna make all your efforts up to you.” You smiled up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Punk practically spun you around and you were on the bed in the blink of an eye. He hovered over you, his long hair framing his face just right. Guurrlll…

He started with kissing you softly, which soon turned into a deep make out session. His hand went down to rub your clit through your panties, your dress hiked up slightly.

You whimpered into the kiss, your hips bucking up slightly into the touch as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. “Phil…”

Hearing his name on your lips made him move down to your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone then your cleavage.

“I know, I know. I’ve got you, princess.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot as his tatted (TATTED UUUPPP 8===D~) hands pulled the neckline of your dress down.

There was no bra underneath since your dress had padding in the cups. He kneaded one breast while sucking and biting the other, causing you to place a hand on the back of his head to hold him close.

Once he pulled away, he ended up taking your whole dress off, lifting your hips to help him slide your panties off (that th-th-th-th-thooonggg). Lastly, he took your thigh highs off.

“Spread ‘em.” You spread your legs obediently. Didn’t needa be told twice at allll.

He got on his knees and gripped your thighs, bending your body a little. “Gonna make you scream my name, got that?”

You huffed out a breathy laugh. That was a threat and a promise. “Got it…”

Punk first pressed a chaste kiss to your clit before licking a long strip from the entrance up inside your slit. You shivered in delight, moaning softly.

There was then no time wasted as he ate you like a starved man. His nails dug crescents into your soft thighs, his head game overly strong.

You were already panting, a hand going down to grip his hair. “Oh, fuck…” You whined, squirming a bit. It was a battle between trying to get more and trying to get away from the overwhelming pressure.

Punk wasn’t having that. He hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you back down.

“Where ya going?” He breathed out a laugh against your core, making you whimper. “Don’t run from it. I owe you one.”

He focused his attention on your clit, holding your legs open. Your back arched off the bed and you were so close you felt tears filling your eyes. “Phil!..”

A string of moans mixed with the calling out of his name was all that bounced against the hotel room walls before you came, and he ate that riighttt on up too. Mhm mhm. Finger licking good.

Once you calmed down enough, he got up to hover over you again. “Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you…”