Soupiie @soupiiiie - Tumblr Blog

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

My Favorite Plot Twist

Cody Rhodes (Runnels) x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sandow sneered the second his eyes flicked to her. He raised a mocking brow. “Well, if it isn’t The Shield and their little— what’s the word— mascot.”

Colby bristled. Joe’s jaw flexed. Jon outright stopped dead, turning his full body toward Sandow.

“Come again?” Jon’s tone dropped so low, even a camera guy passing by paused mid-step.

Sandow crossed his arms, smug. “You heard me. Thought the big boys liked to fight their own battles, but maybe they just need a pretty distraction to stay relevant.”

Y/N’s spine snapped straight. She opened her mouth— but Jon was faster. He lunged so quick that Cody had to shove Sandow back to avoid getting clocked too. “Hey— HEY!” Cody stepped between Jon and Sandow, shoving his hand at Jon’s chest. “Easy, Good. He’s a mouthy bastard but you know the suits’ll fine you if you smash his face in back here.”

Jon snarled back, “Fine me then. I’ll pay in cash, right now—”

Joe grabbed Jon’s collar, Seth crowded closer to Cody, and in the middle of the swirl stood Y/N, hands braced on Jon’s shoulder trying to keep him from murder. Cody leaned closer to her while the guys postured. His voice dropped, almost gentle, that faint grin curving his mouth. “You really oughta leash your watchdogs, sweetheart. One of these days they’re gonna bite the wrong throat.”

She snapped her eyes to him, voice low but slicing. “Careful, Rhodes. Might start with yours.”

Something in his grin tightened — a flash of heat, of amusement, something she didn’t have time to read because Sandow piped up behind him, “She talks tough for a mascot—”

This time Colby didn’t wait for Jon. He shoved Sandow so hard into a stack of road cases it rattled. Cody shoved Seth back — Jon lunged again — Joe barked a sharp ENOUGH that rattled the pipes overhead. Security spilled in seconds later, a chorus of “Break it up! Back it up!” filling the corridor. Cody still hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

“See you out there, Shield Girl,” he murmured, backing off with Sandow under an arm, his grin all trouble and promise and something else she wouldn’t name yet.

She wiped sweat from her brow and glared after him. Colby snorted beside her. “Someone’s got a crush on you.”

She flipped him off. “Shut up before I crush you.”

“I don’t think dirty talk is supposed to be that violent, Y/N/N,” Colby grins childishly.

Y/N moves to lunge at him but Jon grabs her and places her in between him and Joe. She might be considered the mature one in the friendship they’ve created, but that doesn’t mean she’s levelheaded on all fronts. Joe chuckles and nudges her shoulder. “C’mon, troublemaker. Let’s go remind ‘em why they don’t screw with The Shield.”

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The Shield’s heavy boots thudded on the plush carpet as they filed in — Jon first, shoulders rolled back like he might tackle the CEO himself; Colby trailing with a smirk he didn’t bother hiding; Joe looming behind them like an annoyed wall of muscle. Y/N drifted in last, arms folded tight over her chest, jaw set hard enough to crack.

Behind a huge oak desk sat Vince McMahon, in a pinstripe suit that probably cost more than her car. He didn’t look up right away — just scribbled something on a paper with more force than necessary. The air crackled, the boys shifting on their feet like guilty teenagers. Finally, Vince’s head snapped up, eyes locking on them with the force of a hurricane. “Do any of you have a clue how many sponsors I had to reassure tonight?” He slapped the desk for punctuation. “Do you?!”

Jon tilted his head, half-cocked grin already brewing. “I dunno, boss — how many do we have left after last time?”

Joe’s elbow discreetly slammed into his ribs. Jon grunted but stayed grinning. Vince pointed at him like an executioner. “You— zip it. All of you — overgrown dogs with no leash, tearing up my backstage like it’s a damned dive bar in Cincinnati—” He jabbed a finger at Colby. “And you! Egging him on!”

Colby shrugged, completely unbothered. “To be fair, Sandow asked for it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh for god’s sake, Vince—”

Vince’s voice boomed right over hers: “And you!” His eyes narrowed at her, but not with the same raw anger he leveled at the boys — more like a caged grin trying not to break through. “The little brain behind this group, I suppose you’re innocent in all this chaos?”

Y/N’s lips twitched. She clicked her tongue, feigning sweetness. “I tried to break it up. Blame your golden boy and his Shakespeare reject sidekick for running their mouths.”

Jon barked a laugh. “She’s not wrong.”

Vince slapped the desk again. “Shut up, Good!” He inhaled through his nose like he might burst a blood vessel, then exhaled slow — an old wolf reining in his bite.

“Listen to me, all of you: if you start one more brawl backstage — especially over petty, juvenile insults — I’ll have you each working dark matches in Des Moines for the rest of the year. Understood?”

Joe answered first, curt: “Understood, sir.”

Colby threw up two mocking thumbs. Jon just winked at Y/N like he was proud of her, and she smothered a laugh behind her hand. Vince glared at them all before jerking a thumb toward the door. “Out. All of you. Except her.”

The three heads snapped toward her in perfect unison. She shrugged at them, equally confused, but Jon leaned in to hiss dramatically, “If he tries to kiss ya, scream twice.”

“Get out, now!” Vince thundered, and Jon scuttled backward, cackling all the way out.

The door clicked shut and now Y/N stands alone.

Vince leaned back, hands folding over his chest, eyes settling on her with that predator’s glint he reserved for moments of genius — or trouble. “Sit.”

She perched on the edge of a chair, crossing one leg over the other, brows lifted. “What, you wanna lecture me solo now? Promise I’ll behave next time—”

He cut her off, voice lower now, conspiratorial. “You know, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know when lightning strikes twice in one corridor.”

She frowned. “...What are you talking about?”

Vince tapped a folder on his desk, pushing it slightly toward her. “I saw the security footage. You and Rhodes.”

Y/N’s entire spine stiffened, a flush creeping up her neck. “Oh hell no. If you’re about to pitch me some damsel crap—”

He chuckled — genuinely amused. “Quite the opposite. I’m pitching you something fresh. Fiery. Improvised. You’re interrupting Cody’s promo tonight. No one knows it but you and I — not him, not your boys, not creative.”

She scoffed, half rising from her seat. “Vince— no. I’m not babysitting Dusty’s spoiled son because Sandow can’t keep his teeth behind his lips. I’ve got my own match tonight—”

He raised a hand. The room went deathly still. “You do this — you get your match schedule as normal. You don’t…” He paused for effect, a shark’s grin creeping in. “You stand at ringside for the Shield. For a year. No matches. No singles push. No spotlight except the scraps those three give you.”

Y/N felt her pulse hammering at her temples. Her tongue was halfway to a retort she knew she couldn’t afford. Instead, she exhaled through her nose, the fight simmering to a cold, resigned flicker. “Fine,” she ground out. “I’ll interrupt his precious promo. But if he so much as winks at me—”

Vince barked a laugh, utterly pleased. “Good girl. Now get out there and make us a fortune.”

She stood up so fast her chair nearly toppled. “Yeah, yeah. But you owe me a main event after this, old man.” She slammed the door behind her so hard the security guard flinched.

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Y/N stormed down the narrow hallway, the concrete echoing with each slam of her boots. Just ahead, Gorilla loomed — and through the thin curtain, she could already hear the opening swell of Cody Rhodes’ theme song pulsing through the arena. The crowd’s roar matched the pounding in her skull.

Behind her, a chorus of familiar voices rose like a thundercloud. “Hey — Y/N!” Colby’s voice cracked through the noise first, footsteps pounding as he sprinted to catch up. “Hold up a damn second!”

She didn’t break stride, just tightened her grip on the headset in her hand, knuckles whitening. Jon’s laugh — sharp and disbelieving — cut in next as he and Joe caught up, flanking her on either side like personal bodyguards ready to tear someone’s spine out. “You got that look — who do I have to knock out this time?”

Joe’s rumble was quieter but twice as dangerous. “Y/N. Talk. Now.”

She let out a tight, humorless snort, eyes locked dead ahead. “You three wanna know? Vince called us in. Read us the riot act for your genius little bar brawl. And now — surprise, surprise — guess who’s the lucky golden goose that gets a storyline with that smug prick out there?” She stabbed her thumb back toward Gorilla, where Cody’s voice was dripping over the live feed.

Colby nearly tripped over his own boots, eyes wide. “Rhodes?! You gotta be shitting me—”

Jon scoffed, voice climbing an octave. “No. Nah, hell no. Not him. Anyone but him. We’ll go back in right now — we’ll fix it. I’ll threaten Sandow’s neck again if I gotta—”

Joe leaned in, voice low, trying reason where Jon barked chaos. “What’s the angle? Romance? A match? What’s Vince pushing?”

She barked out a bitter laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth mockingly. “Oh, I don’t know, Joe — maybe Vince liked the brawl footage so much he thought, hey, let’s stir up some scandal — Shield girl versus the pretty boy! It’s bait for cheap headlines. And guess what — if I don’t do it? No matches. I’m just eye candy at ringside for the next year.”

Colby grabbed her elbow, tugging her to a sudden halt so hard Jon nearly slammed into her back. “Y/N. Listen to me. We know what he’s like. You’ve seen it. He’s a snake with a fancy smile and a shiny suit — he’ll twist this storyline, he’ll—”

She yanked her arm free, eyes blazing as she whirled on all three of them. They braced as if she might swing first. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see right through him? I do. Better than you ever will. But I also know I’m not about to sit on my ass for a year just because you three can’t keep your testosterone in check!”

Joe rumbled, slow and deliberate: “If he so much as looks at you wrong—”

She cut him off with a sharp laugh, jabbing her finger at his chest. “I’ll break his nose before you even blink, big man. And you—” she turned to Jon, eyes narrowing, “—keep your fists to yourself for one night. One. I swear, Jon, you throw a punch tonight, I’m gonna deck you myself.”

Jon just glared, defiant but cornered. “I don’t trust him around you.”

Colby added, voice strained but pleading, “We’re not trying to run your life, Y/N— but he’s not like us. He’s… him. And you’re—” He gestured at her gear, at her badge. “You’re ours.”

She softened for half a heartbeat — just enough for the truth to flicker through the fight. “Yeah. I know. But I’m not just yours. I’m mine. And this—” she jerked her chin toward Gorilla, Cody’s promo still rolling smooth as honey, “—this is what I’ve busted my ass for. Let me handle it my way.”

Y/N could hear his music ending, his cocky voice filling the arena. She rolls her eyes, bracing herself for about of confused questions from the stagehands. She turned back to her boys, braced her fists on her hips, and said with finality: “Stay back. Let me handle him. I promise you — he tries anything? I’ll remind him real quick why I’m the meanest damn dog in the yard.”

Colby raked a hand through his hair, eyes darting between Joe and Jon, resigned but proud in that big-brother way. Jon just muttered under his breath, “Break his pretty teeth if you gotta…”

Joe didn’t say a word — just pulled her into a bone-crushing hug so quick she nearly squeaked, then shoved her forward with a gruff, “Go show ‘em who he’s messing with.”

She grinned at them, a flash of steel and mischief. “Watch and learn, boys.”

Cody Rhodes prowled the center of the ring like it was a throne room built just for him. The lights caught every glint of gold on his new tights, bouncing off the smug curve of his smirk. The microphone danced in his fingertips — a king playing with his crown. “You know, there comes a time,” he purred into the sea of noise, pacing slow circles, voice dripping that old-school bravado that got under people’s skin and stayed there, “when talent alone won’t get you noticed — when being the best-looking man in this building just ain’t enough.”

He stopped dead center, peering into the hard camera with eyes that dared anyone to step up.“But brains? Brains, ladies and gentlemen… get you everything. That’s why, unlike some people around here, I don’t need to hide behind a pack of dogs in riot gear. I stand here alone— because I’m better alone. And there isn’t a soul backstage with the guts to prove me wrong.”

He flicked his tongue over his teeth, mocking. “You hear that, boys in black? Send whoever you want. I’ll still—”

The arena practically exploded. The sudden thunder of Y/N’s entrance theme shook the rafters, drowning out Cody’s next word. For a split second — one heartbeat — the confident mask slipped. His eyes cut hard to the stage, his tongue stilled behind his teeth.

Michael Cole, trying to yell over 15,000 screaming fans: “WHAT?! IT’S Y/N — THE SHIELD’S ENFORCER — SHE LOOKS LIKE SHES ON A MISSION!”

“Or here to kill someone,” Jerry Lawler adds.

JBL stares on, a grin in his voice: “Rhodes might wanna wipe that smirk off his face. Look at her eyes. She’s about to rewrite his entire monologue.”

Y/N hit the top of the ramp like a bullet in human form. Her boots ate up the steel grating; her eyes locked on Cody with a predator’s promise. There was no Shield theme tonight — no flanking hounds behind her. Just her, the lights, and that smile that said she’d never been more dangerous alone. She slid under the bottom rope in one clean motion, rising slow, nose to nose with Cody before the echo of her music even faded. Cody recovered his smirk — barely — the mic raising back to his lips, though his pupils were blown wide with something that wasn’t fear.

“Well, if it isn’t the Queen of Riot Gear herself…” He drew it out like velvet, eyes dragging from her boots to her mouth and back again. He circled her, slow, close enough to brush her shoulder with his bicep — testing her patience like a man poking a lion in a cage. “Tell me — your boyfriends too scared to fight me themselves? Sent their little mascot out instead?”

Y/N’s jaw ticked at the mention of the insult used by Sandow earlier on in the evening. She lifted her mic without blinking. Her voice dripped poison, each word razor-sharp but calm enough to scare him more than yelling ever could. “No. I came out here to remind the world you’re still the same cheap suit who spent three years telling everyone how dashing you were — until someone finally told you to shut up.”

The fans roared so loud the front row spilled beer. Cody barked a laugh, stepping close enough their chests almost brushed. “Oh, sweetheart— trust me. You want me to shut up?” He dropped his voice, all fake sweetness. “You might have to find another way to keep my mouth busy.”

A collective gasp from the front rows. Wolf whistles. A drumbeat chant of “KISS! KISS! KISS!” that made the back of Y/N’s neck flush hot, despite herself.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to his mouth for a dangerous half-second — then she smiled, all teeth, and shoved a finger into his chest. “Careful, Rhodes. I’m not one of your bimbos backstage. You try that on me and I’ll break your jaw so fast you’ll need Sandow to feed you soup for a month.”

The crowd howled — half laughing, half chanting her name like a heartbeat. She didn’t back up. Didn’t flinch. She smiled — slow, wolfish — then jammed her finger right in the middle of his chest, shoving him back a single defiant step. “You think you’re special because you’re pretty? Newsflash: I’ve seen prettier faces, better men — and you’re not half as dangerous as you like to pretend.” She stepped in again, the mic right up to her lips, daring him to close that inch of space back up.

“You want my attention so bad? Earn it. Or shut the hell up before I do it for you.”

The arena detonated — chants mixing with laughter and a few die-hard Shield loyalists barking “BREAK HIS JAW!”

Cody’s grin didn’t fade — if anything, it softened, just around the eyes. For a flicker of a moment, something raw passed between them: a promise, an insult, a dare neither one fully understood yet. He opened his mouth, words brewing, but she was already stepping back. She dropped her mic with a clatter, the sound punctuating her exit like a gunshot. She climbed a corner turnbuckle, one boot planted on the ropes, and threw her arms wide — soaking in the roar of a crowd that had just tasted the beginning of something very new.

Michael Cole, practically squeaking: “I don’t think Rhodes knows what he just started — that’s The Shield’s wild card! And tonight she didn’t come out here on a leash.”

JBL smirks, low laughter under his breath: “Careful what you wish for, Cody. Because she’s not just gonna ruin your promo — she might just ruin your whole life.”

Cody watched her from the center of the ring, that same half-smirk stitched on his mouth — but now it was a mask for the way his eyes tracked her every move like he couldn’t look away if he tried.

And the fans knew it. They all knew it. This wasn’t the end — it was the spark. And they were going to burn each other down before it was over.

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Backstage was chaos in motion — production assistants dodged camera cables, a ring crew hustled to tear down a set piece, and somewhere down the hall, an intern nearly got steamrolled by Roman Reigns storming through with murder in his eyes.

Y/N hadn’t even made it ten feet past Gorilla before Jon’s hand clamped around her wrist. He spun her to face him so fast she nearly elbowed him on instinct. “You think that was funny?” Jon snarled, voice low but sharp enough to draw side-eyes from the stagehands pretending not to listen. “Letting him talk to you like that out there? Flirting with him for the crowd?!”

Before she could answer, Colby wedged in, eyebrows halfway up his forehead, pure disbelief etched on every line of his face. “Did you hear the things he said, Y/N? ‘Keep his mouth busy?’ He said that with kids in the damn front row! You shoulda punched him—”

Roman caught up last, more collected but no less thunderous. He crossed his arms, glaring down at her like a disappointed dad. “What did we say about guys like him? Huh? He’s still that same ‘dashing’ asshole— just with a shinier coat of paint. You don’t deserve to be part of his cheap little ego trip.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. She loved them — loved them more than anything — but god, sometimes they made her feel like she was twelve. “Boys—” she started.

“Don’t ‘boys’ us—” Colby snapped.

She snapped her eyes open, voice slicing through them like steel. “ENOUGH! Listen to me — I didn’t pick this, alright? Vince shoved it in my lap because you three started a fight next to the catering table, and now the only way I get ring time is if I play nice with Mr. Rhodes. So you know what? I’ll flirt, I’ll spit venom, I’ll let him run his mouth — and then I’ll shut it for him in the ring. End of story.”

Her chest heaved with the force of it. All three Shield brothers stared, caught between guilt and frustration. Before Jon could grumble out his apology, a headset-wearing production runner jogged up. “Y/N— Vince wants you. Now.”

She exhaled through her teeth. “Perfect.”

She huffs, her boots echoing on the concrete floor as she takes the route to Vince’s office. She swears she’s in that man’s office more often than she’s in the locker room. It’s either for something she did, or making sure the boys don’t get themselves fired. This feels like a mix between both.

When she reaches the room, she slams the office door behind her so hard the cheap gold nameplate rattled half off its screws. Vince didn’t even flinch — didn’t even lift his head, just flicked a glance up over the rim of his reading glasses, eyes sharp as ever. “You wanted to see me? Or am I getting fired because the promo wasn’t exactly what you wanted?” Y/N snapped, crossing her arms tight enough to bruise.

Vince’s mouth twitched — never quite a smile, more a wolf showing teeth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A dramatic exit, a big ‘screw you’ on the way out.”

She threw her hands out. “Oh, believe me, I’d like a lot of things right now. Getting shipped off to be Cody Rhodes’ personal prop isn’t exactly at the top of the list.”

Vince set his pen down with agonizing calm, folding his hands across the desk. “Sit.”

She didn’t move. Her silence said everything. He sighed — more annoyance than exasperation — and leaned back in his leather chair. “Fine. Stand there and pout like a teenager, then. I’ll be quick. You’re not traveling with The Shield for the next few months.”

The words hit her like a punch to the ribs. Her jaw clenched so hard she thought her molars might crack. “You’re kidding.”

“Does this look like a face that jokes?” He spread his hands, voice calm but brimming with iron. “Starting next week, you’re with Rhodes. Hotels. Rental cars. Media appearances. Charity gigs. The works.”

She shook her head once, twice, like that could shake the words out of her ears. “No. No, Vince. You can’t— they need me. Have you seen those idiots? They lose their passports every other week. They forget flight times. They can’t even—”

He cut her off with a quiet snarl, enough to chill her blood. “I don’t give a damn if they wander into the wrong airport and end up in Paraguay. You saw what happened out there tonight — you two light up an arena. You made people care. About him. About you. About what happens next. Do you know how rare that is?”

She clenched her fists until her nails dug half-moons into her palm. “So you punish me for your bottom line? Rip me away from my family so I can play girlfriend to a self-obsessed pretty boy?”

He cocked his head. “I’m not punishing you, Y/N. I’m promoting you. Do you think people chant his name like they chant yours? You’re a star, kid. And stars make sacrifices.”

She laughed — brittle, sharp, a sound with no humor left in it. “Right. And if I say no?”

His eyes went flinty, the grin evaporating like smoke. “Then you remember the arrangement. You say no — you stand ringside. Cheerleading. Not a single match booked. You watch your boys break their backs while you smile for the camera and clap when they win.”

She flinched — just a flicker — but Vince saw it. He always did. He leaned forward, voice dropping into that deceptively soft gravel that could command a stadium or crush a dream in the same breath. “You’re a Shield member. But you’re mine first. And you don’t get to decide when you’re too good for the business that made you. So, you want your matches? You want the spotlight you bled for? Then you give me this story. You and Rhodes. Real tension. Real heat. Maybe more, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. People will believe it because you two make them believe it.”

She looked away, chest heaving. Her eyes burned but she refused to blink — she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her crack. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse with the weight of it all. “You don’t care if it tears up the only thing I have left, do you? My friends? The only people I consider family.”

Vince didn’t soften. He never did. “They’ll manage. They’re big boys. And you? You’re the biggest draw I’ve got right now. So do your job, Y/N. Make ‘em believe. Or stand ringside and wave pretty.”

She swallowed hard. The heat behind her eyes turned to salt down her throat. She forced her hands to uncurl, forced her shoulders to square, forced herself to remember who the hell she was. “Fine,” she ground out. “But when this blows up in your face — when he tries to turn this into something it’s not — you remember you built that bomb, not me.”

Vince’s grin returned — shark teeth in a grandfather’s face. “Atta girl.”

She didn’t trust herself to answer. She spun on her heel, yanked the door so hard it slammed into the wall with a satisfying crack — and this time, she didn’t look back. Y/N didn’t get far. Thirty feet down the hallway, she ducked behind a stack of battered flight cases — and snapped.

Her fist smashed into the cold metal once. Twice. A third time, knuckles flaring with pain she barely felt over the roar in her head. She kicked a rolling cart so hard it rattled halfway down the hall, squeaking pathetically before crashing against a wall. But it wasn’t enough — not nearly enough.

Her breath came ragged, shoulders jerking as she braced both palms on the crate’s edge and bowed her head, forehead nearly touching steel. The tears came next. Hot, silent, furious. They dripped off her nose, splattering the black road case below. Behind her, boots pounded the concrete. Voices — hers. Always hers.

“Hey— hey— Y/N—” Jon’s rough rasp, usually all bite and sarcasm, now gentle as a bruise. He grabbed her shoulders, spinning her before she could flinch, pulling her tight against his chest like he could muscle the world back into place for her. She didn’t fight him. Just sank into the familiar scent of leather and sweat and brotherhood. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his vest, anchoring herself there while the ugly, broken sobs punched out of her one by one.

Colby and Joe closed in like a shield made flesh. Colby’s hand slid to her back, palm moving slow and steady over her spine, grounding her. Joe’s big arm caged around them all, his chin brushing the crown of her head. “Hey— look at me.” Joe’s voice, low thunder that somehow sounded kind. “Breathe. You gotta breathe, yeah?”

She dragged her face from Jon’s chest, the tears streaking black under her eyes. Her lip trembled, rage and heartbreak making her chest squeeze tight. “He— he’s— he’s sending me with Rhodes. On the road. Away from you guys. All because I opened my mouth and you started a damn fight—!”

Jon flinched like she’d slapped him. “Y/N—”

“He wants me to fall for him. Wants it to look real. Wants me to be some— some soap opera side piece so people tune in for his precious ratings.” She swiped at her face, but the tears kept coming. “And if I don’t play along, if I fight him on it, I’m back to ringside. Stupid fucking Sandow would be proven right. I’d be your mascot, clapping while you three run the whole show without me.”

Colby’s hand stilled on her back, fist curling in the fabric of her vest. “I’ll kill him. I’ll actually—”

“Same,” Joe rumbled, forehead resting against hers now, voice so soft it cracked her all over again. “No man does this to you. I don’t care what he’s worth to Vince. You’re worth more.”

She let out a watery laugh, the sound sharp and exhausted. “You three can’t even remember what town we’re in half the time. You lose your wallets, your gear, your entire hotel keys— how are you gonna save me from this?”

Jon barked a humorless chuckle, but his eyes burned like coals. He brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “Because we’re The Shield, sweetheart. And The Shield doesn’t abandon its own. Ever. He might share your rental car, but he doesn’t get you. Not really.”

Colby grinned through the storm, leaning his forehead against hers so their eyes locked. “He can have your time on the road. He’ll never have your back in the ring. That’s ours.”

A fresh tear spilled, but this one carved through the smallest, fiercest smile. “God, you idiots. You make it so hard to hate you.”

Joe chuckled low, pressing a careful kiss to her temple like sealing a promise. “Good. Now breathe, sister. You go do this dumb angle. You get your paycheck. You keep your place at the top. We’ll be right behind you — whether they write us in or not.”

She sniffed, dragging her wrist under her nose, trying for a brave face. “Promise me you won’t try to jump him next week.”

Jon snorted, voice dripping dry venom. “No promises. But we’ll aim for backstage, not on camera. Better for ratings.”

That pulled a half-laugh from her chest — small, real, enough to make the ache bearable for now. She huffed out a breath and let them hold her a few seconds more, safe in the fortress of riot gear and reckless love. She was being shipped off to fight an angle she never asked for — but as long as these three shadows stayed behind her, she’d never really be alone.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The rumble of Cody’s rental car idled in front of the hotel. He leaned one elbow on the open window, sunglasses on despite the overcast morning, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to some classic rock station humming low through the speakers. When the back door slammed open, he straightened just in time to see her stalk out dragging her gear bag behind her like it owed her money. He couldn’t help it — the smirk slid right into place. “There she is. My favorite Shield member.”

She shot him a glare so sharp it might’ve cracked his windshield. She didn’t break stride, tossing her bag in the back seat before yanking open the driver’s door. “Out.”

Cody blinked behind his shades. “Uh — beg your pardon?”

She jerked her chin at him, brows arched with lethal calm. “Out. Of. My. Seat.”

He gave a mock laugh, glancing around the empty lot like maybe she was pranking him. “You’re serious?”

She planted one palm on the roof and leaned down until they were nose to nose. “You really think I trust you driving me through two states? Get your pretty boy ass in the passenger seat. Now.”

A laugh cracked from his throat despite himself. “God, you’re a piece of work.” But he got out, sidestepping her with a playful twirl of his keys before tossing them back.

“Try not to hit anything. Insurance doesn’t cover bruised egos.”

She snatched the keys mid-air, hip-checking him toward the other side. “Buckle up, Rhodes. I drive fast.”

The first hour on the interstate was exactly what he’d expected: tense silence, punctuated by her death grip on the wheel and the occasional murder glare when he so much as adjusted the air vent.

He tried anyway. Of course he did. “So… Y/N, right? Short for anything?”

“Nope.”

“You always this chatty?”

“Only when idiots are talking at me.”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “You know, most women would kill for alone time with me.”

She snorted, eyes locked on the road. “Congrats on being delusional. Must be peaceful in that head of yours.”

He chuckled low, leaning back in his seat. He watched her hands more than the highway — the way her fingers flexed and adjusted around the wheel, the faint white line of an old scar near her knuckle. Little pieces of her that the Shield boys kept the world from ever seeing. She caught him staring and snapped, “Eyes on your side, Romeo. I know where I’m going.”

“Relax. I’m just appreciating the view.” He wiggled his brows. “Gotta make this road trip worth the trauma, sweetheart.”

“Touch me and I swear to God I’ll break your nose.”

“Promises, promises.”

They bickered about gas stations first. Cody pointed at a bright neon sign for a big chain stop half a mile ahead, practically bouncing in his seat. “Take that next exit. That place has Starbucks. And a bathroom that doesn’t double as a crime scene.”

Y/N didn’t even glance at the sign — she veered off at the very next random exit without slowing down. “We’re stopping here. I want real coffee. Not overpriced hipster sludge.”

He squinted out the window as she coasted into a cracked lot behind a battered old gas station. The ‘OPEN’ sign flickered like it might give up at any moment. “Real coffee?” he repeated, deadpan. “This place looks like a horror movie. If I get tetanus, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

She popped the door open with a pointed smile. “Don’t be dramatic, Rhodes. One rat tail in your latte builds character.”

Inside, she stalked straight to the dusty snack aisle while Cody hovered suspiciously near a leaking soda machine. She plucked bags of jerky, two Red Bulls, and a suspicious-looking muffin from a basket near the register. He trailed behind her, dropping an armful of candy and chocolate on top of her pile. She narrowed her eyes. “We are not buying your sugar stash. Put it back.”

He feigned innocence. “Protein and carbs, sweetheart. You need fuel if you’re gonna keep threatening to kill me every five miles.”

She swatted his gummy bears back at him — he lobbed a chocolate bar at her head in retaliation. She caught it one-handed and whipped it back into his chest. The old man behind the counter watched them with mild horror.

Back on the road, it was only a matter of time before the radio battle started. Y/N cranked Metallica up so loud it rattled the passenger door. Cody grimaced, fingers stabbing at the dash controls until he managed to cut it off mid-guitar solo. “Jesus — my ears are bleeding. My playlist, my rules.” He plugged in his phone, Taylor Swift crooning an upbeat chorus a second later.

Y/N threw him a look so lethal it should’ve stopped the car. “Are you kidding me right now?”

He grinned, drumming his knuckles on the armrest in time with the chorus. “You need to lighten up, princess. Consider this an education in actual music.”

“I will launch that phone into the next state.”

“Try it. I’ll file a complaint with HR for harassment.”

She barked a laugh, but it was all teeth. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, legs stretched obnoxiously wide. “No, everyone thinks I’m cute. Big difference.”

She bit back a scoff, switching back to Metallica with a vengeful stab at the dash. “It must be exhausting to be this cocky ”

His smile dropped for a heartbeat. “You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t actually know me.”

“Don’t need to know you. I’ve heard enough.” She shrugged, eyes on the road. “The boys keep plenty of receipts.”

He let out a low whistle, voice softer but sharper somehow. “Ah. So that’s what this is. Jon’s bedtime horror stories about how I once big-timed him for catering. Colby swearing I was sniffing around places I don’t belong. Joe acting like I’m a stray mutt with rabies.”

“Maybe don’t act like a mutt then,” she shot back. But her grip on the wheel tightened, betraying the edge under her words.

Cody studied her in the flickering lights of passing trucks, the playful spark in his eyes tempered by something real now. “Newsflash, sweetheart: I might be a pain in the ass, but I don’t need your boys to like me. I do need you to maybe think for yourself, though.”

That made her laugh — but it cracked at the end. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rhodes. I think just fine. And trust me — if you were worth the benefit of the doubt, I’d have given it.”

A tense silence settled in. Metallica growled low in the background, the road yawning endless ahead. He turned away first, looking out his window with a grudging smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Then I guess I’ll just have to prove ‘em wrong, huh?”

She didn’t answer, but the way her jaw unclenched told him enough to know he’d landed a hit.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

By the time they’d been on the road four hours, dusk spilled across the highway in bruised streaks of purple and gold. The cab of the car felt like a tiny universe — half Metallica riffs, half the low hum of the engine, all crackling tension that had somehow shifted from barbed to something almost… bearable.

Cody saw it first: the telltale drift of her eyelids at a long red light. The way her hand, clenched white-knuckle on the wheel for hours, now flexed limply between shifts.

He cut the volume down with a flick of his thumb, voice softer but sharp enough to slice through the tired fog she’d wrapped herself in. “Hey. Pull over.”

Her scowl was automatic, almost sluggish. “Shut up.”

“You’re exhausted, sweetheart. I can see you blinking in slow motion.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” She scrubbed a palm over her face, fighting the sleep dragging at her bones. “And I’m fine. Stop mothering me—”

“Fine?” He barked a humorless laugh, drumming his fingers on the console. “You just missed a sign for the highway you’ve been ranting about for an hour.”

She squinted at the road signs ahead, jaw tightening when she realized he wasn’t wrong. “Eat shit, Rhodes.”

“Pull. Over.” His tone dropped — not cruel, just immovable. The same stubborn steel that got under her skin and, she’d grudgingly admit, kept her awake better than the Red Bull rolling around at her feet.

She sucked in a breath, teeth sinking into her lip as if she could bite back the exhaustion by sheer force of will. “I don’t need—”

“You do,” he cut in, voice low but calm now. “You do. Just this once — drop the act, princess. Everyone’s human. Even you.”

Her hands clenched tighter on the wheel. She hated how that landed — gentle, exasperated, annoyingly real. She hated that he saw her cracking and didn’t make a joke of it.

With a muttered curse, she yanked the car onto the shoulder, tires crunching over gravel. She slammed it into park so violently the whole car rocked. “Touch my seat or mirror settings and I swear—”

Cody popped his door open with a smirk, leaning in close enough their noses nearly brushed.“Relax,” he murmured, voice dipping warm and taunting at once. “I can handle the beast of your preferred car settings. You just handle the snoring.”

She blinked at him, thrown for a heartbeat by how sincere that sounded under the teasing edge. He chuckled at her silence, brushing past her to slide behind the wheel. She stalked around the hood, muttering, “I hate you.”

He shot back without missing a beat, “And yet you look at me like you almost trust me right now. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your guard dogs.”

That shut her up. She climbed into the passenger seat with a glare that couldn’t quite hide the flicker of something softer beneath it. Minutes later, her head drifted toward the cool window, lashes fluttering once, twice — then gone, sleep tugging her under faster than she could fight it.

Cody gripped the wheel, knuckles whitening as he risked a glance at her.

God, she looked different like this. The hurricane armor was gone: no clipped insults, no eyes sparking hellfire. Just a stubborn girl who carried three grown men on her shoulders and wouldn’t admit she was tired until she damn near crashed. He caught himself staring too long at a green light — had to clear his throat, dragging his gaze back to the endless ribbon of asphalt.

Yeah. This was gonna be a problem. She was gonna be a problem.

And the worst part? For once in his life, Cody Rhodes wasn’t entirely sure he minded one damn bit.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The next show felt like stepping into the same storm — only now, for Y/N, the wind was blowing from two directions at once. She’d barely dumped her duffel in the Shield’s locker room when the door swung open like it owed Jon money.

“There she is,” Jon announced, boots thudding across the concrete. “The runaway bride herself. How was the romantic road trip with Golden Boy?”

Joe ducked under the doorframe behind him, tossing a water bottle back and forth between his hands. “Yeah. How many times’d he beg you to marry him? Or did you murder him and bury him behind a Waffle House?”

Colby, always the quieter hammer, planted himself on the bench beside her bag, smirk sharp as a blade. “Well? Did he make you wanna leap from a moving car or what?”

Y/N braced her elbows on her knees, taping her wrists slower than usual. She opened her mouth — ready to fire off some trademark venom — but the words stuck. Instead, her mind traitorously flicked back to the dark road. To him telling her to pull over. To his stupid warm voice saying to pull over. To the fact that when she woke up hours later, she felt like someone had cared.

She cleared her throat, voice too casual. “He’s still alive, so... I guess that’s a disappointment for all of us.”

Colby frowned, catching the way her teeth sank into her cheek. “You didn’t answer the question.”

She forced a lopsided grin, flicking her eyes up at him. “Oh, yeah — I was this close to gouging my eyes out. He wouldn’t shut up. Played Taylor Swift, for god’s sake.”

Jon barked a laugh, satisfied — but Joe tilted his head, suspicious. “Huh. And you let him live?”

Y/N shrugged, tugging her tape tighter than necessary. “I was too tired to fight him and the radio.” Her voice dropped softer than she meant. “He just... drove. So I could sleep.”

Colby’s eyebrows shot up — but before he could probe that, a sharp knock rattled the door. A stagehand peeked in, headset crooked, shuffling a paper in his hand like it burned. “Uh— hey, sorry — Ms. Y/N. Vince wanted me to give you this. There’s been an adjustment tonight.”

Y/N took the paper, eyes scanning the fresh ink. Her stomach did a flip she refused to show on her face.

Mixed Tag Match: Y/N & Cody Rhodes vs. The Miz & Eve Torres

Of course. Perfect. Vince was doubling down on the fireworks.

Jon snatched the paper from her hands, reading it like it was a threat. “Nope. Not happening. No way you’re getting thrown into a soap opera match with him now, too—”

Joe growled low in his chest. “We already said we’d handle it if he gets handsy—”

She cut through their fury, voice calm but distracted. “Guys. It’s fine.” She lifted her chin at them. “It’s business. And it’s Miz and Eve — not a bloodbath. I can handle it.”

Colby’s eyes narrowed, studying the subtle shift in her — the fight in her tone replaced by something quiet, almost... uncertain. “You sure about this? You don’t look like you wanna break his face anymore.”

She threw him a sharp look. “Don’t push it. It’s a match. That’s it. And I’m still running your segment later — I’ll be ringside, barking orders at you idiots as usual.”

The stagehand coughed into his headset. “Uh— sorry — there’s more. Vince wants The Shield out there during her match, too. As ‘support.’” He made finger quotes, face apologetic. “He said — and I quote — ‘Their snarling makes her look tougher.’”

Jon huffed, but it morphed into a savage grin. “Damn right it does. Fine. He wants us ringside? He’s gonna get the Shield ringside.”

Joe clapped a hand on her shoulder, squeezing just shy of bone-crushing. “You call the shots. He gets cute — you say the word, we break his teeth.”

Y/N blew out a breath, fighting the tiny traitorous curl in her chest that she refused to name.

“Relax, you big guard dogs. It’s a match. And when it’s over... we’ll still be us.”

And in her chest, for the first time, the thought whispered back — But maybe not just us, anymore.

The arena pulsed with the bass of Cody Rhodes’ theme — sharp, confident, just cocky enough to drag a tidal wave of boos and squeals in equal measure. He emerged under the arch of lights, arms spread, that smug half-grin firmly back where it belonged. He took his time on the ramp, soaking it up like a sunbeam, glancing at the hard cam with that signature Rhodes wink.

When he reached ringside, he leaned back on the ropes, chin tilted toward the entrance — waiting.

And then—

“SIERRA. HOTEL. INDIA. ECHO. LIMA. DELTA… SHIELD.”

The roar hit like a bomb. Black-tactical storm pouring through the crowd — Jon leading the charge, Joe a stone wall beside him, Colby stalking in his wake. But behind them, a fourth figure stepped out under the lights — all sleek riot gear and lethal confidence — and the pop hit another level.

Y/N stalked ahead of the boys at the barricade, eyes locked on Cody like a heat-seeking missile. She didn’t so much as glance at the fans screaming her name — her whole focus was the man leaning cockily against the ropes, waiting for her.

The boys took up guard at ringside, pacing like wolves with too-short leashes as she climbed the steps and slipped between the ropes — stopping nose-to-nose with Rhodes. He mouthed something the cameras didn’t catch. She answered with a smirk and a shove that made the front row lose their minds.

DING DING DING!

The Miz tagged in first, smirk plastered on his face as he circled Cody — but the crowd knew the heat was in the corners. Cody and Miz traded holds, quick and clean, until Miz tagged Eve with a flourish.

Y/N launched herself over the ropes before Eve’s foot even hit the mat. They locked up hard, Eve trash-talking something fierce until Y/N snapped off a perfect arm drag that made the crowd roar. A stiff dropkick followed, then a running knee that cracked Eve flat.

Outside, Jon punched the barricade, howling with pride. “That’s my girl—!”

But the momentum shifted. Eve ducked a clothesline, tagged Miz back in, forcing Cody’s return. Cody didn’t miss a beat — sliding in smooth, catching Miz with a beautiful standing dropkick that echoed. It was fast — crisp — but the magic hit when Miz ducked, caught Cody in a front headlock, and Y/N slammed her palm on Cody’s shoulder. Blind tag.

She vaulted the top rope while Cody launched Miz backward — she flipped, caught Miz mid-rotation with a flying neckbreaker, and the arena exploded.

Colby’s jaw dropped. Joe slapped his chest, wild with disbelief. “You seeing this shit?!”

Miz scrambled, tagged Eve again, but Eve looked hesitant now. Y/N baited her in, feinted left, then whipped her across the ring. She caught Eve with a spine-shaking backbreaker and pointed at Cody — challenging.

He read her in an instant — no cue cards, no missed beat. She sprinted to the corner, Cody braced low, and she ran straight up his cupped hands — springboarded clean onto the top rope, spun mid-air and crashed down on Eve with a flawless corkscrew crossbody.

The crowd lost their minds.

Jon was practically climbing the barricade now, half furious, half shocked out of his skull. “WHAT THE HELL DID WE TEACH HER?!”

Colby shouted over him, “SHE’S NEVER TRUSTED ANYONE TO BASE FOR THAT—”

In the ring, Cody stalked over as Miz lunged back in to break the pin — but Cody met him halfway, hooking him into Cross Rhodes and driving him straight into the mat.

Three seconds later: 1… 2… 3!

The bell. The roar. Y/N on her knees, panting over Eve’s defeated form, Cody towering above her with a cocky grin that almost looked proud. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her to her feet, then lifted her arm high. For a heartbeat, she glared at him. For another, she let the grin crack through — small, unguarded, just for him.

Then he stepped in — no script, no camera cue — and pulled her in tight.

The Shield boys went ballistic on the floor, barking curses and pacing like caged tigers. The crowd, meanwhile, practically shook the rafters off the building:

“THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!”

Cody didn’t let go until he felt her stiffen — not in rejection but in realization. He lingered just one second more than he should have, then eased back, brushing a stray hair off her cheek before she could slap his hand away.

The boys climbed the apron, snarls barely restrained. But Y/N barely noticed them — her pulse was thunder, her eyes locked on Cody’s mouth as he leaned in close, voice low enough for only her to hear:

“Hell of a team, huh, sweetheart?”

And this time — for once — she didn’t have a comeback ready.

Backstage was a frenzy of movement and noise — but all of it blurred at the edges for the Shield the moment they cornered Y/N just past Gorilla. Jon planted himself directly in her path, eyes narrowed, voice low enough to cut glass. “What. The hell. Was that out there?”

She yanked at her wrist tape like it offended her, not looking at any of them. “A match, Jon. That thing we get paid to do.”

Colby crossed his arms, stepping closer until they boxed her in. “Don’t get smart. You know what he means. You pulled the corkscrew. With him. You won’t even let us catch you on that one.”

Joe’s broad shoulders tensed. He jabbed a finger at her chest, frustration barely contained. “And the hug? The crowd was eating it up — and so was he. You didn’t shove him off. You didn’t even flinch.”

She snapped her gaze up at that, fire flaring for a heartbeat. “I was working, okay? The fans want tension? I’ll give them tension. I’m not gonna tank the damn chemistry just because you three can’t stand him breathing the same air as me.”

Jon barked a mirthless laugh. “Chemistry? That’s one word for it. He’s got your head spinning so fast you didn’t even see the way he looked at you when you hit Gorilla. Like he owns the ring and you with it.”

She bristled — about to fire back — but her eyes flicked across the hall, drawn like iron to a magnet. There he was. Cody Rhodes. Standing a few feet away near a row of crates, Sandow at his side yammering about god-knows-what — but Cody’s attention wasn’t on Sandow.

It was locked on her.

Not cocky or mocking this time. Just… intent. There was a softness there she hadn’t signed up for, wrapped up in that maddening smirk. He lifted his chin at her, the ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth — a silent question: You feel that too, don’t you?

She hated that her chest squeezed at the sight. Hated that she almost smiled back.

Colby followed her gaze, and his exasperated groan snapped her out of it. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Don’t tell me he’s already gotten under your skin—”

She tore her eyes away, rolling her shoulders like she could shake him off her skin. “Don’t flatter him. He’s nothing. It’s business. Vince wants sparks, I’m giving him fireworks. That’s all.”

Joe frowned, reading the lie in the tight lines around her eyes. “You sure about that?”

She didn’t answer. Just flicked her wrist, tossing the shredded tape into a bin. Cody, still across the way, tilted his head — a dare in his eyes now. Her pulse stuttered.

Jon rapped his knuckles on the back of her shoulder, snapping her back to the present. “Hey. You coming? We gotta prep for our segment.”

She sucked in a breath, tearing her gaze from Cody’s. That stupid grin was still there, softer than it had any right to be. She hated how it made something warm coil low in her stomach. She forced her feet to move, brushing past Jon and Colby with a muttered, “Yeah. I’m coming.”

As she walked away, she could feel Cody’s eyes burning into her spine the whole way down the hall — and for the first time, she couldn’t tell if she hated it… or wanted him to look harder.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The ride back to the hotel should’ve been easy — ten minutes of asphalt and white noise — but instead it was suffocating. Cody could feel every word they weren’t saying pressing against the windows like fog. He didn’t dare break it. Not yet.

By the time the car rolled into the lot and they trudged up to their room, both were wired and bone-tired all at once. Two queen beds, identical duvets — neutral, forgettable, safe. But the air between them felt anything but.

Cody dropped his duffel by the far bed, eyes flicking to her as she tossed hers onto the nearer one. She sat immediately, elbows braced on her knees, shoulders hunched like she was physically bracing for a fight.

He drew a breath, slow. He hated dancing around things — it was why people liked him on the mic. So he didn’t bother with small talk. “You absolutely killed it tonight. You know that, right?”

Y/N didn’t look up. “We did what Vince paid us to do.”

He pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, considering. “Yeah, well, we did it better than anyone else could’ve. Commentators loved it. Even your three angry watch dogs probably loved it — even if they wanna punt me off a bridge about it.”

That got the faintest tug at the corner of her mouth, but it didn’t stick. She picked at a loose string on her sleeve, nails worrying at it until it frayed. “Doesn’t matter. To them, I’m still too reckless. Too naive. Too trusting for my own good. It’s always been that way.”

Her voice cracked just barely at the end. Cody’s ears pricked — the real her was peeking through, whether she wanted it to or not. He sat on his bed, leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees so he was eye level with her. “Hey. You’re gonna have to explain that. Because from where I’m standing, you’re the least naive person in the locker room. You’ve got more spine than half the roster put together.”

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. It scraped her throat raw. “Yeah, well… wasn’t always true. Before the Shield, before WWE even looked my way, I worked indie shows no one remembers. Barns, fairgrounds — you name it. Promoters loved me because I was marketable. ‘Look, a girl who can take a bump — let’s put her in a bra and toss her through a table.’ Didn’t matter if I bled for it. Didn’t matter if I could run the ropes better than the guy they were pushing. I was just the sideshow. ‘Bring her out when the crowd gets bored.’”

She didn’t mean to keep going — but it poured out, unstoppable now that she’d cracked the seal.“Got so used to doing it alone. Proving I wasn’t just a body in shorts. Then I met Jon. He was at one of my shows, thought I had something. He was in NXT at the time. So he vouched for me to Hunter. He and Joe and Colby — they treated me like I mattered. Not as a prop. As a soldier. An equal. So yeah — they’re overprotective assholes. But… without them, I probably wouldn’t even be here.”

The room buzzed with the soft hum of the AC unit. Cody didn’t dare interrupt. He just watched her — her throat working around words she hated giving away, her hands trembling just slightly. When she finally glanced at him, there was a flash of embarrassment there, like she’d suddenly realized just how much she’d revealed to him of all people. “Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, more bite than strength in her tone. “I don’t do the sob story thing. I hate it.”

But Cody didn’t smirk this time. Didn’t tease. His eyes stayed steady, quiet. “Not looking at you like anything. I’m listening. Maybe you don’t get enough of that.”

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then barked a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Great. Now I get to add ‘pity’ to the list of reasons I can’t stand you.”

He leaned back with a huff of amusement, but the warmth stayed in his eyes. “No pity. Just respect. And maybe a little regret that I didn’t see it sooner. You’re hell on wheels in the ring, but outside? I get it now. Why you guard your heart like that.”

She stayed silent, teeth worrying her bottom lip until it hurt. A second passed — then another — before she broke it with a muttered curse. “God, I don’t even know why I told you that. I never tell anyone that. They’d laugh. They’d say I’m soft now.”

Cody shook his head immediately. “Not soft. Never soft. Just tired of fighting alone.”

He let the words hang there like an offering. And for once, she didn’t swing back with a snarl. She just watched him, eyes searching his face for whatever trap she was sure he’d laid — but there was none.

He stood then, scrubbing a hand through his hair like he needed to burn off the sudden rawness.“Anyway. I’m gonna grab a shower before I get too philosophical and ruin my reputation.”

She cracked a dry grin, voice almost fond despite herself. “Wouldn’t want the big bad Rhodes to go soft, huh?”

His answering smirk was softer than it should’ve been, but it made her stomach flip all the same. “Careful, sweetheart — keep talking like that and I might think you don’t hate me anymore.”

Before she could throw a pillow at his head, he ducked into the bathroom, leaving her alone with the echo of her own heartbeat and the terrifying realization: For the first time in forever… she didn’t feel alone. And that scared her more than anything.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The next few months turned out to be nothing like she’d expected. At first, Y/N braced herself for misery: a long stretch of awkward silences and cheap, infuriating digs from Cody Rhodes every time they had to share a car, a locker room, or an arena hallway. She’d even packed extra headphones just so she wouldn’t have to listen to his smug voice on long drives.

But somewhere between midnight gas station raids and adrenaline crashes in half-lit hotel parking lots, something subtle shifted.

They still bickered — God, they bickered — about everything. Over whether to take the interstate or the backroads, which podcast was less insufferable, who got the last handful of trail mix. She told him he had the emotional depth of a garden rake; he told her she was all sharp tongue and no follow-through.

Yet, under all that static, something warm had begun to flicker.

She learned he never drank energy drinks after sunset because he hated lying awake. He learned exactly how she liked her coffee — black, but with a shot of cheap hazelnut syrup she’d never admit to buying. He started bringing her an extra cup when he knew she’d pretend she didn’t want it but would steal his anyway.

She noticed the way he always checked that the hotel door latched twice before he’d let himself relax. He noticed how she curled her fingers around the seatbelt when she fell asleep in the passenger seat — as if bracing for some old nightmare.

Sometimes, he made her laugh so hard she’d have to bite her knuckle to muffle it. Not the polite chuckle she gave the boys to keep them from asking too many questions — real laughter, the kind that cracked open something she’d welded shut years ago.

And the ring? Together they were chaos on tap. Audiences ate it up: the Shield’s lone wolf and the golden prince side by side, crackling with tension that blurred so perfectly between storyline and reality that half the locker room started taking bets on when they’d drop the act — or if it was ever an act at all.

They were so good that Vince began building entire nights around them. She was still the Shield’s bullet in a flak vest, but with Cody at her side, she got to show a sharper edge — more cunning, more poison, more reckless risk that made the crowd chant her name until the rafters shook.

And off-screen? Well. Off-screen, she was still telling herself it meant nothing. That it was just business. That the way she sometimes caught him watching her when he thought she wouldn’t see was just part of the job.

But late at night, when they’d stumble into some cheap hotel room after a match and collapse on opposite beds, there were moments when she wondered if the line had disappeared altogether.

One night, somewhere between Omaha and Des Moines, it bled out louder than usual. She was leaning against a rental car, hair still damp from the shower she’d rushed through at the arena. Cody stood opposite her, passing a cheap sandwich back and forth because the only diner for miles had closed at midnight.

“—I swear to God, Rhodes, if you tell the boys I ate a gas station BLT, I will smother you in your sleep.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth with the back of his finger. The touch was so easy now she didn’t even flinch.“Oh, so now you’re worried about your image? After you German-suplexed Ziggler through a barricade tonight?”

She shoved his chest lightly, but she didn’t move away. “Dolph had it coming. And shut up, you loved it.”

Cody tilted his head, that grin softening into something that felt too dangerous in the moonlight. “You know what I loved? Watching you trust me to catch you again tonight. No hesitation this time.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice went quiet at the edges. “Don’t make it weird. It’s just business.”

He didn’t look away. “Yeah. Sure. Just business.”

For half a second, they were frozen — the cool night air buzzing around them, a radio muttering static in the car. She could smell his shampoo, feel the warmth radiating off him. She should have stepped back. Should have thrown another jab. Instead she muttered, almost to herself, “You’re not as awful as I thought you’d be, you know that?”

He caught it. Of course he did. His mouth curved, slow and victorious. “Careful, Y/N. Don’t want anyone to think we’re friends now do we?”

She laughed — real and reckless — and shoved him harder this time. “In your dreams, Rhodes.”

But later, dozing off against the window as the Iowa highway hummed under the tires, she caught herself replaying that moment on loop.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Tonight was more of the same chaos — except tonight it felt different, heavier, like a fuse burning toward a powder keg. Y/N had gotten ready faster than usual — gear laced up, hair braided back tight, eyeliner sharper than any blade Colby owned — and slipped out before the boys even realized she’d vanished. She needed a breath of quiet before the noise that always came with them.

They didn’t notice until Jon asked if she’d seen his gloves. Then Joe checked for her in the hallway. Then Colby asked where the hell his phone charger went and realized she’d been gone ten whole minutes.

It took them thirty seconds to split up and sniff her out like a pack of guard dogs.

They found her tucked by a stack of crates down a shadowed hall. But what stopped them cold wasn’t the hidden corner — it was the sound: her laugh, warm and open, like she didn’t know they were listening. Cody Rhodes stood so close to her their boots nearly touched. One hand braced on the crate by her head, the other absently playing with a loose end of her braid. It was casual, almost intimate — too damn familiar for Colby’s eyes.

They caught enough of the hushed conversation to light Jon’s fuse.

“—told you I’d never drop you,” Cody was saying, voice low, almost soft. He tugged her braid playfully. “You never trust me until you have to. Starting to think you just like the thrill.”

She smirked, smacking his wrist away but didn’t move an inch from his chest. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy. You’ve caught me so far. Try it again tonight and maybe I’ll start believing you’re not completely full of shit.”

He leaned closer, breath ghosting her cheek. “I’ll catch you every damn time. Promise.”

That’s when Colby snapped. Boots pounding the concrete, voice a snarl. “Hey! Rhodes — BACK THE HELL UP.”

Cody didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at him first. His eyes stayed on her another heartbeat before flicking lazily over Colby’s shoulder. His grin was infuriating. “Evening, Colby. We were just talking—”

Colby slammed a palm into Cody’s chest, driving him back a step. “I said back up. Or I’ll put you through that wall.”

Y/N jolted, eyes wide. “Colby, what the hell—!”

Cody laughed, low and mean, pushing back into Colby’s space. Their chests bumped, tension humming electric. “Look at you. Alpha dog routine still working? Or you worried she might finally want something you can’t scare off?”

Jon and Joe skidded up just in time to see Colby rear back and swing first — a full haymaker that cracked against Cody’s jaw so hard it echoed.

“Colby, STOP!” Y/N’s scream barely registered as Cody stumbled, then lunged back, fists swinging. The crates behind them rattled as they crashed into them, locked in a vicious snarl of fists, elbows, curses.

Jon grabbed Colby’s arm but got shoved for his trouble. Joe caught Cody’s shoulder, dragging him back only to get an elbow in the ribs. “Always hiding behind your stupid charm, huh Rhodes?!” Colby spat, teeth bared. “Can’t get her unless we let you, right?!”

Cody’s lip split, blood slick over his teeth — but his grin was feral, a promise of more. “You think you own her? She’s not your damn property, Lopez—”

Y/N shoved between them so hard she nearly fell. “ENOUGH! All of you — STOP!”

But they didn’t. Not until Vince’s roar cracked the hallway like thunder. “HEY! ENOUGH! I SAID ENOUGH!”

Everything froze. Fists cocked, chests heaving. Vince stalked into the circle, suit jacket flaring like a cape, eyes gleaming with both rage and glee. “You boys want to kill each other so bad? Fine. New main event: Seth Rollins versus Cody Rhodes. Tonight. You want blood, do it where it makes me money. Or you’re all fined, you got it?!”

Cody wiped his mouth, eyes still locked on Colby. Colby seethed, barely held in check by Jon’s iron grip on his vest collar.

Y/N’s shoulders shook as she turned on her brothers — eyes bright, voice ragged. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You think I’m too stupid to stand here and talk to someone without you storming in like rabid animals?! You don’t trust him — fine! But do you trust me? Or is this what it’s gonna be forever?!”

Colby flinched, guilt flickering behind the rage but too proud to drop it. Jon looked like he might hit a wall just to vent the tension. Joe’s big hand hovered on her back, grounding her, but she shrugged it off, furious tears welling.

Cody watched her, eyes softer now but still burning for a fight. When she glanced at him, she hated that some part of her chest didn’t tighten in anger — it loosened instead, and she didn’t know what that meant.

Vince pointed at them like an executioner. “You three — gear up. You,” he jabbed at Cody, “get your pretty face cleaned up. Ring in twenty minutes. And you—” He rounded on Y/N, voice dropping. “Better decide whose corner you’re standing in. Because tonight, sweetheart — you don’t get to have both.”

Silence.

Then Cody, a hint of a smirk through his split lip, said just loud enough for her to hear. “Guess you gotta pick, sweetheart. Hope you trust me.”

She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. Not with Colby’s glare burning a hole through her back and Jon’s wounded stare cutting deeper than any blade. Tonight, lines weren’t just blurred. They were drawn in blood. And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure which side she wanted to stand on.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The air inside the arena vibrated with a tension so sharp you could taste it. Cody’s entrance hit first, but tonight he didn’t strut — he stalked. Jaw tight, eyes locked dead ahead at the ring like it owed him blood and payback in equal measure. Fans screamed, half for him, half for the chaos they knew was brewing.

Then The Shield’s war drums rumbled out. The reaction was a thunderclap: three silhouettes emerging from the crowd, Colby leading with that murder glare etched across his sweat-slick face. Jon and Joe flanked him, bodies coiled tight with fury. Y/N walked behind them this time — not beside, not hidden — trailing just far enough to be apart, close enough to remind everyone who she was.

When they hit ringside, Jon and Joe fell naturally to Colby’s corner, arms folded over the ropes like hellhounds. Y/N hovered at the corner post, but she didn’t climb up. She stayed halfway between Cody’s side and theirs — feet planted on neutral ground no one else seemed to occupy but her alone.

The bell rang.

The first few minutes were technical, precise — two pros testing each other’s limits with crisp grapples, tight reversals, nothing wasted. But it didn’t stay professional for long.

Colby slapped Cody hard across the face during a rope break — the crack echoed all the way to the cheap seats. Cody answered with a vicious forearm that sent spit flying from Colby’s mouth.

“This is personal!” Cole hollered on commentary.

“You think?! These two are trying to kill each other for real, Michael!” JBL barked.

Y/N’s eyes darted back and forth, heart hammering. She hated how her body betrayed her — every stomp Colby landed, every elbow Cody fired back, she felt it like a phantom bruise under her ribs.

Ten minutes in, Cody caught Colby with a slick Disaster Kick out of nowhere — the crowd popped huge, but his landing was ugly. His ankle rolled awkwardly on the canvas with an audible pop and he stumbled into the ropes, teeth bared in a silent snarl of pain.

Colby smelled blood immediately. He hooked Cody under the arm, yanked him up, and dumped him back-first into the turnbuckle so hard the whole ring rattled. Cody crumpled, clutching the ankle, sweat dripping from his brow to the mat in big, sick splatters.

He’s hurt.

Y/N’s lungs squeezed tight — the world narrowed to Cody’s labored breath, the way he tried to stand but immediately buckled again, jaw clamped to stop himself from screaming. Colby stalked him like a wolf circling a deer with a broken leg. Jon barked encouragement from the apron, Joe pounding the turnbuckle.

Don’t do it, Colby. Her hands curled around the rope. Don’t—

Colby hit the ropes, rebounded at full speed — going for the stomp to the back of Cody’s skull. One decisive end to a match turned real.

Y/N didn’t think. She reacted.

She vaulted the ropes in a single fluid motion, boots pounding the mat as she lunged. The crowd shrieked, a wall of white noise as she threw herself between them — arms spread wide, her body a living shield.

Colby skidded to a stop so fast he nearly ate canvas. He stared at her, chest heaving, murder flickering behind wide eyes. “Y/N. Move.” His voice was hoarse, low, but edged in steel.

She didn’t budge. Not an inch. Her breathing was ragged, shoulders trembling under the bright lights. She didn’t dare look back at Cody, didn’t trust herself not to lose her nerve.

Jon and Joe were shouting over the ropes — confusion, betrayal, a mix so thick you could taste it. Colby stepped closer, close enough she could see the tiny tremor in his clenched jaw. Rage softened for half a heartbeat when he noticed her ribcage shuddering like she couldn’t pull in enough air.

“Y/N…” He tried again, quieter this time, a plea buried under the fury. “Please. He’s nothing. He’s—”

She cut him off, voice low and savage. “He’s hurt.”

A fresh wave of chants crashed over them — half the arena booing, half screaming her name, torn in every direction. Behind her, she felt Cody shift — a hand brushed her lower back, feather-light. No smirk this time, no quip. Just a broken rasp: “Y/N, it’s okay. Let him finish it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut — once, hard enough to burn the tears back into her skull where they belonged. Not here. Not in front of them. She swallowed every emotion on her tongue, and when she opened her eyes, they were stone again. She stepped back slowly, uncoiling herself from the blast zone, but she didn’t look at any of them. Not Colby, not Cody, not Jon or Joe.

And then she did what none of them expected — she ducked under the ropes, dropped to the floor, and just… walked away. No fanfare, no explanation. Just her shoulders rigid, boots pounding the ramp until the shadows swallowed her whole.

The commentary table was a mess of disbelief: “Y/N just… abandoned The Shield?!”

“She protected Cody Rhodes — did we see that right?!”

“What does this mean for The Shield? What does this mean for Y/N?!”

In the ring, Cody slumped to one knee, watching her go with something raw flickering behind bruised eyes. Colby didn’t move right away. The hurt on his face cut deeper than any stomp ever could. Tonight, lines weren’t just blurred. They were erased. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t sure who she was fighting for anymore.

Y/N barely felt her boots hit the ground as she staggered through the maze of halls. Voices passed her left and right — crew, agents, security — but they were static under the deafening ringing in her ears. Her pulse drummed so loud it drowned out everything except the fire in her chest. Y/N shoved through the locker room door so hard it bounced off the cinderblock. For a second she just stood there, staring at her gear bag like it had personally betrayed her.

Then she broke.

Boots, wrist tape, shirts — she flung them across the benches. A bottle of water cracked open mid-flight, splattering the walls. She ripped a spare pair of gloves in half. Her travel hoodie got kicked so hard it slid under Jon’s bench.

She couldn’t contain herself, the panic rising in her chest. She swung blindly, her fist connecting with one of the metal lockers. She grunts out in pain, her hand instantly throbbing from the impact. Her knuckles are now bright red, no doubt a gnarly bruise getting ready to form on them.

She didn’t touch their gear though — not one thing. She couldn’t.

Her breath sawed in and out until her throat burned. And before the reality of the mess caught up to her, she bolted — pushing back through the door, down another hallway, ignoring the shocked faces of a few green rookies frozen in place.

She needed to get out. She needed space. Needed air. She had to find some sort of haven that quieted the noise in her mind. She didn’t know how her body knew where to take her, but somehow, she found her way outside the venue. The summer night slapped her in the face like ice water. She stomped past rows of rental cars and cargo trucks until she hit a back wall next to the loading dock.

Then she screamed. Raw, primal — a sound that dragged the fight out of her lungs and left her empty.

She slid down the wall, gear scraping the brick, until she sat in a heap. Hands tangled in her hair. Shoulders shaking, though she wouldn’t cry. She would not cry. She hated this. Hated feeling big feelings. Hated that it wasn’t just work anymore. Hated how alive he made her feel and how her boys — her family — looked at her like she’d stabbed them in the back for letting herself care.

Back inside, the guys were furious. Or maybe more confused. Jon was the first through the curtain, boots pounding the concrete as he practically shouldered it open. Joe shadowed him, his broad frame filling the hallway. Colby lagged just a step back — and for once, he was the quiet one. They’d been calling her name the whole way from the arena floor.

“Y/N! C’mon, sweetheart, answer us!” Jon’s voice bounced off the cinderblock walls, rougher than he meant it to be.

“Y/N, you better not be hiding just to mess with us,” Joe grumbled, but the tension in his shoulders said he didn’t believe it even as he said it.

Colby didn’t call out. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack open like glass. They hit the locker room door in near unison — Jon wrenching it open so hard the handle banged the wall. “Y/N—?”

But the word died in his throat. The room was empty — but it was anything but quiet. Her absence howled louder than any shout could have. Her gear bag lay gutted on the bench, its contents flung in wild arcs like a storm had ripped through. Wrist tape shredded into curls on the floor. A half-full water bottle leaking into a dark stain on the concrete. One boot flung so far it nearly lodged under the lockers.

Colby stood frozen in the doorway, eyes tracking the mess like he was seeing it frame by frame — an unspooling of her mind they’d never been allowed to witness.

“Jesus,” Joe whispered, bending to pick up a tangle of ring gear. It dripped water from where she’d hurled it. He squeezed the fabric, knuckles white. “She’s never… not her. She doesn’t lose it. Not like this.”

Jon turned a slow circle, breathing like he’d run a mile flat out. That’s when he notices the caved in locker. “This ain’t just mad. This is— it’s panic. It’s her head cracking open, man. We did this.”

Colby stepped inside last. His boots crushed a torn wrist wrap underfoot. He didn’t move to pick it up — just stared at it, jaw working behind clenched teeth. He finally rasped, “She doesn’t do cages. She never has. And we locked her in one, expecting her to pick sides like some damn trophy.”

Joe slammed a hand to the row of lockers, the metal clanging under his palm. “She’s on her own right now. Panicked. We promised we’d never let that happen again—”

Jon turned, stabbing a finger toward the door, voice tight with command. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? She’s ours. We find her. Now.”

Joe nodded once, hard, already halfway out the door. Colby lingered just a moment longer, eyes flicking to the chaos she’d left behind. Quietly, to himself more than the others, he muttered, “We fix this. No matter what it costs.”

Then he turned on his heel, boots echoing in step with the other two as they stormed back into the maze of hallways — calling her name into every shadow, every echo, ready to tear the whole building apart if that’s what it took to bring her home again.

Y/N’s head stayed buried in her arms, forehead pressed hard to her knees. She’d been sitting on that freezing concrete for what felt like forever, just letting the cold bite at her back and the rough wall scrape her shoulders through her shirt. She hated how stupidly dramatic she felt. She was a professional. A fighter. And here she was, choking on air because her world suddenly didn’t make sense anymore.

When the arena door creaked open, she didn’t lift her head. Not at first. Heavy steps, slower than usual. A low grunt. She knew that sound by now — the subtle wince Cody tried to hide every time he had a new bruise to nurse. A soft thud beside her. He dropped down with a pained exhale, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned against the same wall. She felt the heat of him before she dared to look.

When she did, her chest squeezed painfully.

A fresh split in his brow leaked a thin line of dried blood toward his temple. His lip was purple and cracked. He was cradling a half-melted ice pack against the worst of the swelling in his jaw. But his eyes — those infuriating, stupidly kind eyes — were locked on her.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice sanded raw but careful. “You okay?”

She let out an unsteady laugh, instantly annoyed at how shaky it came out. “Rhodes, you look like a horror movie and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

He tried to smile, winced when it tugged the cut on his lip. “Well… you look like you’ve been to war. So, even trade.”

She snorted, wiped her face with her sleeve. “Shut up.”

He leaned in just a fraction, trying to read her the way he always did. “Y/N… talk to me.”

She didn’t. Instead, she yanked the ice pack from his hand, ignoring his small protest. She scooted closer, knees pressed against his thigh, and carefully pressed the ice to his bruised cheek.

“Hold still, you big baby,” she muttered.

His eyes fluttered shut under her touch. When they opened again, they dropped to her hands — to the knuckles she didn’t realize were still red and raw from where she’d smashed them into a locker.

He cursed under his breath, reached up to take her wrist in his calloused fingers. “You did this?”

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. His thumb ghosted over the split skin, so gentle it made her throat burn. “I’m fine,” she lied, voice small.

He laughed, humorless and thick with something deeper. “You gotta stop saying that word when it’s the biggest lie you tell people.”

“Don’t—” she breathed, but he cut her off.

“I mean it. I never wanted you in the middle. I swear to God. You shouldn’t have to pick sides — not with them, not with me, not for anyone. You deserve better than that. Better than me.”

“Stop it—”

“No. I will never be the reason you break your damn hand on a locker ever again, you hear me?” His voice cracked, low but urgent. He pressed her bruised knuckles to his chest, right over the steady drum of his heart. “You’re worth so much more than this stupid shit. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to stand alone tonight.”

Her eyes stung — but she refused to let tears fall. Instead, she scoffed, trying to wrap herself back in sarcasm like armor. “Damn it, Rhodes. Why do you gotta be nice now? You were easier to hate when you were an arrogant bastard.”

His mouth twitched. “Still an arrogant bastard. Just your favorite one now, apparently.”

She huffed a tiny laugh, despite herself — and that laugh broke her guard wide open. She leaned in, her free hand drifting up to cup his battered cheek. Her thumb brushed over his eyebrow, careful not to reopen the cut. His breath hitched. And before she could stop herself — before she could talk herself out of it — she kissed him. Soft, deliberate, more honest than any word she’d spoken in weeks.

He stilled, surprise flaring bright in his eyes — then melted into her, his hand sliding to her hip, tugging her closer until there was no air left between them but the taste of bruised lips and old secrets.

When they broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing too fast. He whispered, voice hoarse but certain, “If you want me to stop... if you want me gone... just say it. I swear to you, Y/N, I’ll never be the reason you feel like this again.”

She swallowed, fingertips brushing the rough line of his jaw. “Don’t you dare go anywhere.”

Neither of them noticed the quiet figures standing just inside the door they’d left ajar. Jon, Joe, and Colby stood frozen — guilt, relief, and something like wonder flickering in their eyes as they watched their girl wrapped up in the last man they’d ever wanted for her. But watching the way she cradled Cody’s face, the way he held her like something fragile but fierce — they finally saw it for what it was.

Joe’s voice broke the silence first, low and certain: “She doesn't need saving from him.”

Jon nodded, lips twitching in the ghost of a grin. “She just needs us to remember she’s stronger than all of us put together.”

Colby didn’t say a word. He just watched her laugh softly when Cody cracked some quiet, dumb joke. And for the first time in a long time, he realized: maybe the best way to protect her was to let her have something — someone — just for herself. And maybe, they’d finally help her smile the way she used to.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Y/N helped Cody to his feet, the two of them slowly making their way back inside. He held her hand gently, rubbing the bruised knuckles she’s sporting as softly as he could. They walk through the door together, Y/N hearing her heart pounding loudly despite having calmed down. She knew she had to talk to them. They would have found what she did to the locker room by now, and are no doubt waiting for some sort of explanation about what happened.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Cody whispers. “I’m right behind you.”

Y/N smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They reach the locker room door and she slowly pushes it open, the hinges creaking as always when she does. As she expected, Jon, Joe, and Colby are all standing there waiting for her. But what she wasn’t expecting was to see all of her stuff cleaned up.

Every piece of evidence that showed how badly she crashed out was gone. Her bag was put together nicely on the bench, all three boys looking as if they just got caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

“Hey…” Y/N says softly, Cody following behind her. He doesn’t fully step into the space, not wanting to infiltrate what they consider their safe haven. “Um, I’m assuming you saw all of…” She gestures around to the whole room, “that.”

“You mean you going all hulk smash on your stuff?” Jon says with a hint of sarcasm. “Yeah, we saw.”

“How’s your hand?” Colby asks, nodding towards the locker with an Y/N sized fist indent.

Y/N swallows thickly, shrugging. “Sore,” she answers. “It’s not as bad as when I punched you in the face though,” she nods over to Joe.

He huffs out what sounds like a laugh, “Yeah, well, a jaw of steel will do that.”

Y/N glances back at Cody briefly, trying to find the right thing to say. He sends her that small grin that has managed to worm its way into her head, despite her trying hard to keep it out. She exhales, easing her nerves before facing her family. “Listen guys, I’m–”

“If you’re gonna apologize, you can save it,” Jon cuts her off.

Y/N feels her heart drop. She knew they’d probably be mad, but she wasn’t expecting him to not even hear her out. Does this mean they’re gonna excommunicate her? Vince probably would have them wait to do it in front of a camera for drama purposes. Y/N can feel the anxieties returning as she thinks about being sent away by them. The boys could clearly see her internal struggle and they all share a similar look.

That’s when Colby steps forward, “Because if anyone should say sorry, it’s us.”

Y/N blinks, “What?”

“We put you in a bad position,” Joe says, his voice rumbling through the locker room. “You had to do all of this because we got into a fight. We shouldn’t have been surprised when you and Rhodes ended up being buddies after spending months on the road together,” he glares slightly in Cody’s direction, his protectiveness still not fading. “We shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to choose.”

Y/N’s mouth opened but nothing came out. She looked between them, eyes flicking from Colby to Jon to Joe, trying to process that they were actually apologizing. Jon cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. “You’ve always had our backs. Even when we didn’t deserve it. Tonight just… proved that we need to do better by you.”

Joe crossed his arms but his voice was softer than usual. “You’re our sister. Doesn’t matter what storyline Vince cooks up. Doesn’t matter what suit wants what pop. You don’t owe us your sanity to keep this family glued together.”

Colby’s jaw flexed. He was the last to look her dead in the eye, stepping a little closer. “We got so busy fighting for you, we forgot you can fight for yourself. Hell — you’ve been doing it longer than any of us.”

Y/N sniffed — and immediately scowled when Colby looked like he might say something about it. She jabbed him lightly in the ribs with her knuckles. “If you tell anyone I almost cried, I’m throwing you through the announce table next week.”

Colby cracked a tiny grin, his shoulders easing for the first time all night. “Fair deal.”

Jon pulled her into his chest first. No big speech — just a tight squeeze that knocked the breath out of her lungs for half a second. She hid her face in his shirt, muttering something about him smelling like cheap soap and bad decisions. Joe looped an arm around both of them next, pressing his forehead to hers for a second. “We clean up your messes. You clean up ours. Same as always, yeah?”

She nodded, pretending her eyes weren’t wet. “Yeah.”

Colby waited until she pulled back, then wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, his chin hooking over her head like he’d done a thousand times before. “We love you. Even if you have trash taste in company.” He cut his eyes at Cody, who raised an eyebrow but stayed silent — letting them have this. Finally, Colby stepped back just enough to jab a finger in Cody’s direction. “You. Hurt her? Blink wrong at her? You won’t see us coming, Rhodes.”

Jon clapped a heavy hand on Cody’s shoulder for emphasis. “We mean that in the warmest, most brotherly way possible.”

Cody smirked, even though it tugged at his split lip. He stepped forward, extending a hand to Colby first. “Fair enough. She’s worth every threat.”

Colby studied him for a beat that felt like a year, then gripped his hand hard enough to crack bones. Cody didn’t flinch — which, admittedly, earned him a flicker of respect he’d never get them to say out loud. He turned to Joe and Jon next, offering the same handshake — an unspoken promise they didn’t have to spell out in words. He’d never be the reason she felt alone again.

Y/N cleared her throat when the testosterone standoff started dragging. “Alright, enough. If we stand here any longer, someone’s gonna start chest-bumping someone and then I’m gonna have to call HR.”

She nudged Cody’s side with her elbow. “Come on, tough guy. Let’s get out of here before they decide to pull you into another three-on-one ‘lesson’ about respecting me.”

Cody chuckled, leaning down just enough so only she could hear, “If they try, I’ll just hide behind you.”

“Damn right you will.” She shoved his chest, careful of the bruises. She turned back to her boys, pointing two fingers at her own eyes, then at each of them in turn. “I’m still mad you made me punch a locker. Next time, we talk out whatever issues we have, okay?”

Jon winked. Joe gave her shoulder a squeeze. Colby only rolled his eyes. “Go before we change our minds and duct tape Rhodes to a forklift.”

She flipped them all off playfully and stepped out the door, Cody trailing a step behind her — close enough that his fingertips brushed hers once they were in the hall. They walked in silence for a few beats until she leaned into his side, voice quieter now that it was just them. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?” He glanced down, brow furrowing gently.

“For… tonight. For not making me feel stupid about… everything. For sticking by me when you didn’t have to.”

Cody stopped walking, tugged her gently until she was facing him under the dim flicker of an old hallway light. He ran his thumb over her knuckles again, soft as the breeze. “I’d stand behind you, beside you… hell, in front of you if you let me. You don’t owe me a damn thing, Y/N. But I swear to God — I’ll earn whatever piece of you you give me.”

She huffed, embarrassed by how warm her chest went at that. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah.” His grin was crooked, half-swollen. “But you like me anyway.”

She didn’t answer. She just rose up, cupped his jaw gentle as glass, and kissed him again. Slow. Sure. Hers. When she pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together, breathless but laughing softly. “You keep doing that, sweetheart, and your boys are gonna break every rib I’ve got left.”

She smirked, tapping his lips with her finger. “Then don’t piss me off and maybe I’ll protect you again.”

His laughter echoed down the hall as she tugged him forward, hand in hand — both of them a little battered, but lighter than they’d felt in months.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

13 years later…

Y/N_WWE

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Y/N_WWE: 13 years ago, I told myself I hated him. 8 years ago, I promised in front of a bunch of people (and one extremely judgmental priest) that I’d love him forever. Tonight, he still snores in my ear, still steals my fries, still calls me ‘sweetheart’ when he wants something — and I wouldn’t change a single second. People always ask how we’ve made it work this long in a world where nothing lasts. I think it’s simple: he lets me be exactly who I am, even when I’m a mess. And somehow, after all these years, he still looks at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to him (which I am, obviously). Here’s to more late-night road trips, more stolen pizza slices, more me pretending I don’t love him when he leaves his boots in the hallway. Happy 8 years married, americannightmarecody — thank you for loving every sharp edge and soft part of me. You’re my favorite plot twist. ❤️🤍💙

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americannightmarecody: You’ll always be my favorite part of the story. Thanks for choosing me, even when I snore. Happy anniversary, sweetheart. ❤️

wwerollins: She did hate him. This is 100% true. Happy for you both though. 😂🖤

jonmoxley: Shocked you two didn’t burn the house down by now. Congrats, ya weirdos.

natbynature: Love like this makes my heart so full. Happy anniversary, you two deserve every bit of it. 🥹❤️

mikethemiz: Gross. But also adorable. Happy anniversary! 😂

trishstratuscom: Two legends. One love. Happy anniversary!

wrestlegirlie13: THEY ARE THE BLUEPRINT. 😭❤️

heelqueen4eva: This is the only real love story I trust tbh.

wwemomentsdaily: Not me crying at work, BYE 😭😭😭

indypunkprincess: The fact that y’all lasted thru all the chaos >>> #goals

y/nfanclubofficial: We been knew she was gonna marry him since 2012 😌 #powercouple