Discover Top Posts Tagged with #wardlow angst

Do You Remember When

Early in their careers, it came down to a choice between Wardlow and Y/N as to who would move up. The situation gets brought back up years later, but now they are on opposite sides.

Pairing: Wardlow x Reader

Warnings/Promises: angst, SMUT, conspiring

Word Count: 2760

Note:I don’t know why it took so long to write up my Wardlow thirst, but here’s the first of potentially many. As always, comments and reblogs are super appreciated.

This was the feud that would never end.

MJF still wouldn’t leave Wardlow alone to enjoy his life, so Wardlow kept stepping in to mess up his plans. Which is why MJF hired you. You were the one person he’d left most of the talking to. And, considering your non-wrestling status, people were disinclined to swing at you. Which you appreciated. What he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. But what he didn’t know wasn’t supposed to come to light.

***

“Alrighty,” you coach looked over his clipboard for the thousandth time. The other students were gone, shipped off to their next step towards the brass ring that controlled the wrestling world. Some to fight in the rings, other to help kept best laid plans going straight. You and the man standing next you were either side of that coin. “There’s only one position left, and I’m afraid there’s only one answer.”

Wardlow bristled at the coach’s tone. He knew it too well.

“Japan has an opening for a quick-thinking ring-side counselor.” He held up an envelope, offering it to you. “Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You took it, beaming with pride and almost shaking too much to give a decent handshake. By the time you needed your next breath, you were already at the door and finally remembered to look back. It popped a hole in your enthusiasm.

Coach had his hand on Wardlow’s shoulder. “This isn’t the end. Something will come up. You’ll see.”

***

Three years later, the man that once stood by your side stood on the opposite side of the ring. He cut a good look in his suit and tie, hair slicked back and out of the way. You had to admire the way he’d advanced in wrestling since you saw him last. But now he was a problem.

“The second your ‘client’ stops getting in my way, I’ll stop getting in his.” Wardlow’s bargain was simple. But Max was not a simple client.

“That was never the deal, Wardlow.” You ignored how Max muttered ‘Warpig’ under his breath. “You’re supposed to be gone. Kaput. Out of sight and out of mind for one of the best rising stars of our generation. And you and I both know the gene pool out there.” You let your voice soften, hoping it would get your point across and end your headache. “There are other wrestling companies out there. Ones that would appreciate your drive and enthusiasm a lot better than here. I have connections if you need them.”

If Maxwell Jacob Friedman never spoke another word, it would still be too much. “You need all the help you can get. Take the deal. This isn’t the first time Y/N’s known best, is it old friend?”

How did he know about that? He wasn’t there. Granted, a lot of the talent backstage had been, but this wasn’t usually a story that people would tell.

***

It was the last time you two worked together. For over two months, you’d run as his valet, making sure he kept his cool in and out of the ring, finally leading up to this match. The original plan was to be a coed team, but your lungs didn’t have the stamina, so you settled. Talent scouts were in the audience, and they were ready to pick the best of the best. Backstage, you all shared a handshake, wishing each other good luck for the match, and for the future ahead.

Then everything went wrong.

First, nerves got to Wardlow. He stumbled on his way into the ring, almost taking you down with him. The match had a rocky start, and a rocky middle. Then, he zigged when he should have zagged, and caught a kick square on the jaw. While the referee checked on him, you created a distraction by grabbing a kendo stick from under the ring before stomping across it to get at the other team. By the time they were able to “talk you down” and the ref could kick you back to ringside, Wardlow was mostly recovered. He won, but not with as strong a finish as planned.

Your quick thinking got you the last open talent spot. Despite his protests at the time, you regretted every bit of it.

***

“You may have always had the brawn, but you’ve never had the brains.” Max continued to poke and prod at what he perceived to be Wardlow’s shortcomings. “Even then, Y/N is a brilliant strategist. She could probably outsmart you at every turn and beat you. You know what, let’s get a ref out here. You could be one half of AEW’s first coed match. You’ve only got half a wit, but it’ll be enough to show you just how far beneath everyone else you really are.”

With a groan, you stepped between them before Max got knocked out. “This really isn’t necessary. If we could get back on topic-“

Then Shawn Spears piped up before you could stop him. “Naturally, wanting to be a gentleman, you’d lay down for the lady, and we’d respect you. Or you could just walk out. That’d be easier to everyone.”

Wardlow pushed against your hands on his chest.

Things were rolling out of control and Max picked up the thread. “Natural. There’s a word to describe you. All brawn, no brains, just,” he flexed his shoulders, “just wild instinct with a touch of modern civility. C’mon. Let the beast out. Fight the beauty. But I still believe the girl could best you ten out of ten without breaking a sweat. The most natural thing in the world.”

“Max-“

“It’s not natural for girls to fight.” Wardlow instantly winced at his words, stepping back. “I don’t mean that-“

Too late. You had a frigid reply. “No, it’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as they are tall. But, oop. There you are.” Behind you, Max laughed with his usual loud, obnoxious bark. You were too busy glaring at Wardlow to tell him to shut up. “This conversation is over. Either we will come to terms and see eye to eye, or Maxwell Jacob Friedman and the Pinnacle will walk over you one last time before the world forgets about you.”

Boldy, you shouldered past him. He let you.

***

Backstage, you quickly separated yourself from the guys and found a dark, quiet corner to breathe your blood down from boiling. Why did everything have to be so hard? And every word so sharp? You shed your suit jacket, running your fingers through your hair. You chose this. And you were going to keep it, no matter the struggles. You had to.

Familiar footsteps found you two minutes later just when you were starting to relax.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Y/N,” Wardlow blocked your path. “I didn’t mean a word of that-“

You growled, “it doesn’t matter. You said it anyways, knowing better than anyone else my health issues and why I can’t wrestle like I want to. Max is a pain in the ass, but you used to be better at this than letting him get under your skin like he does.”

Wardlow reeled. “Wait. You’re still having pulm- puls-, ah, lung issues? I still shouldn’t have said it, but you made it to the big leagues. The doctors still haven’t helped-“

“It’s the roughest side of asthma, Michael. It doesn’t fix up overnight, much less in a couple years.” Both of you knew yelling would only inflame internal problems, so you took a deep breath. “And doctors take money. I’m only just now starting to get the amount I need to afford better pulmonologists. It takes a lot to afford inhalers these days. Even with insurance, if you’ve got it.”

The pity in his eyes burned from your stomach to your spine. You reached for your jacket.

“About that scene-“

“Oh my God.”

“…it got away from me and I wanted to apologize.”

You tossed the fabric down, this close to going ballistic on your former partner. “There’s a lot about your career and tonight that’s gotten away from you. But there’s not much you can do to change it, so let it go. It’s out there, on live television, it’s probably all over the internet. Nothing you can do to stop it-“ Your next words were muffled with Wardlow’s hand over your mouth. He pushed you back into a wall to lessen your struggle.

“My god, you’re worse than Max.” He took a deep breath, looking down at the floor as if reconsidering every step that got him here arguing with you in some back hallway. His head tilted with a change. When he looked back at you, he was sure about something… and you were afraid.

With his hand over your mouth you couldn’t get away. When you tried, his grip tightened just enough to freeze you into place.

“One of Max’s problems is that he really needs a good fuck to work out everything that makes him a frustrating person to work with. Problem being that he can’t ever get laid because he’s annoying as hell.” He leveled his gaze with yours. “But you’re more capable than that. Always have been.” Slowly, he lowered his hand. And you were too intrigued to move.

“Are you offering something?”

“I am. Do you have an answer?”

You licked your suddenly dry lips. This was the line neither of you would cross back in the day. It was too messy then. Now would be disastrous. Then again, standing next to him didn’t make your skin crawl like standing with the Pinnacle. It was familiar. Safe.

Your brain was going a million miles an hour, and he knew it. Gently, he cupped your face, tilting it up. “May I?”

“Mhmm.” You leaned up to meet him.

Slow and steady, you tilted and moved with one another. His hands landed on your hips, holding you in place as his hips pressed you further against the wall. Yours clawed at the soft fabric of his shirt, moving up the collar before lacing behind his neck. He reached behind you, spreading his large hands across your lower back to arch you further into his kiss. Giving you a second to breathe was a mistake.

“We can’t do this, can we?” You whispered it against his chest. Before he could stop your mouth with another kiss, you managed, “everything could blow up in our faces. This would be the final straw for Max taking you out. I could lose everything-“

He kissed you deeply, dazing you. “I won’t let that happen.” The movements between you were coming to a head, becoming more frantic and needy for more, or to stop before you’d do something you’d regret. Wardlow’s hands managed to get under your blouse, almost burning you with the shock of finally feeling his touch like this.

Still, your brain turned. “If anyone finds out-“

“Do you ever shut up?” He grunted as you rolled your hips into his. “Max really has turned you for the worse.”

You mock gasped, even as he mouthed at your throat. “Do you always talk about MJF with your partners?”

“No. They usually have the pleasure of never knowing who he is. As you are not that blessed,” he stopped, gripping your chin to force your gaze, “I’m going to make sure the only name you can remember tonight is mine.”

The second he waited for your denial, your escape, passed in an infinite flash.

Then teeth clacked, tongues met, and you both hurried to undo each other’s shirt buttons. He managed yours first, ripping it apart without snapping any buttons off. Your hands fumbled, unable to manage the same for his touch distracting you to no end. Down went your sensible pants. You at least managed his belt buckle and zipper. Wardlow hiked you up around his hips so he could kiss the swell of your breasts. You gave up on his shirt, managing instead to lightly rake your nails down his chest. You could always plan an attack. Stage something to explain all the marks on each other-

“You’re thinking again. Stop. Just be here. With me. Not out there.” He ruffled out of his shirt so your hands could explore the whole expanse of him.

It was the grounding you needed. All that muscle under your fingertips. All that flushed skin to touch. To finally feel flexing, blood pumping in time with yours. Wardlow sucked harshly on your neck, making you gasp into his shoulder. As he tweaked your nipples, massaging your breasts in between, you rocked more and more desperately against his bulge. It was too much. His mouth on your neck. His hands caressing, leading your body into passion. The pressure building in your core. The tipping point came when your rolling stuttered, forcing a groan out of Wardlow. You shuddered at the sound, head to toe to core.

“Did you just come?” He smiled and kissed the underside of your jaw. “Dearest, we’ve just begun.”

With your mind in a haze, you didn’t feel the shift in the last layers of clothing until he was fully against you, hot and hard and ready. You bit your lip, holding back many wanton sounds as he rutted his cock through your slick.

“Please, Michael, please-“

“Hang on.”

He wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. You curled your fingers in his hair, mussing it, and dragging your nails along his scalp. He hummed in delight, but remained focused on filling you inch by glorious inch. Your head fell back into the wall, your mouth opened slack. When you finally composed yourself to look him in the eye, he was already watching hungrily for your next reaction.

The draw out was the last slow moment you had before he let the beast out. Filling you. Pounding into you wonderfully enough for you not to care if anyone heard you. There wasn’t a thought in your head. Just him. The stretch of him within you. Hearing his moans and grunts against your ear when your body clenched. Once again the peak approached.

Wardlow braced himself against the wall, his hips stuttering. “Do- do you remember… when we main evented Chicago that one time?”

“Yes.” You clawed at his back.

“I wanted to ravish you then.”

He moved faster. Shorter thrusts, but never losing his depth.

“End of matches.”

“What?”

You whined, so close to the edge. “Win or lose, I wanted to jump you after every match.”

“What took you so long?”

He smiled against your forehead. Then, with a strained roar, he filled you, pumping thrusts to chase the sensation, taking you down with him. His chest muffled your shout. As the orgasms washed over you both, you clung to one another like you’d never let go.

It may have been five, it may have been twenty minutes before either of you recovered. Like old lovers, you passed one another their clothes, helped with buttons, never letting a touch go unlingered.

Wardlow held back your suit jacket. “You can’t go back to him.”

“Sure I can.” You held up your hands when he gripped your shoulders. “He’s paying my bills, and then some. Yeah, he’s going to stab me in the back eventually. But I’ll see the signs. And I already have an exit plan built,” you added with a shrug.

Wardlow huffed. “Yeah, with whom?”

“Well, I was hoping it could be you, but if you don’t think that’d work I can ask Omega and the Elite. They might be able to finally kick MJF’s ass-“

“Wait, wait, wait. Me?”

“You.” With a swallow, you thought back over what Max poked at earlier. “We both know the reason I got so far was because it was at your expense. If I can repay that in any way, this might be it. Are you interested? Are you willing to keep an eye out for when the wind changes?”

Wardlow crossed his arms. “What all does this plan entail?”

“A lot of kendo sticks and maybe a barbed-wire bat.”

He hugged you close, laughing into your hair. “I’ve missed you.”

You both needed the gentle silence that followed. He ended it with a kiss to the top of your head.

You composed yourself quickly. “Remember, you hate my guts until I give you the signal. Right?”

“Right.”

You had to grin. You missed how quickly he caught on with your harebrained schemes. Without another word, you left him in the dark, not looking back.

*** Masterlist

Wrestling/WWE Masterlist

***

Other Wrestling Angst/Smut:

Preparing for the Future (A, F, S, Breeding Kink) - Baron Corbin

Only Yours (AR, A, S) - Cesaro

My Favorite Things (AR, A, S, F) - Drake Maverick

Fuck the Demon Away (A, S) - Elias Samson

Don’t Rush This (AR, A, S, F) - Jack Swagger

No More Whispers (AR, A, S, F|F) - Peyton Royce

Hard Feelings (AR, A, S, Trans!OC) - Rezar (AOP)

Doubt Comes In (AR, A, F, S, F|F) - Rosemary

To Heaven and Back (AR, F, A, S, Plus!Reader) - Sami Zayn

Break Each Other’s Hearts Again (AR, F, A, S) - Seth Rollins

#wardlow angst

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#wardlow angst