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onlyangel4 · 3 days ago

Text

charming you one promo at a time. drew mcintyre.

drew mcintyre x commentater reader

synopsis: you were supposed to call the action, not become the main event. as wwe’s newest commentator, you knew your voice would carry across arenas you just didn’t expect drew mcintyre to be hanging on your every word.

faceclaim: melissa roxburgh

y/ninsta

liked by stubennettofficial, tiffanywwe, chelseagreen and 211,119 others

tagged: wwe

y/ninsta: i am so excited to announce that dreams do come true. i have been commentating wrestling on the indie scene for 15 years and last week i got the call that wwe want ME. i'm still in shock but i'm so excited. i'll see you every friday

view all 8,223 comments

tiffanywwe: i screamed when i realised you were doing fridays

y/ninsta: can't wait to see you!

chelseagreen: i loved working with you all those years ago, can't wait to work with you again

stubennettofficial: welcome to the team!

user1: omg i'm so excited

user2: i'm so happy that someone with such passion for the sport got the job

y/ninsta posted a story

written: first day on the new job, pls be nice to me

week one on smackdown

the lights of smackdown beamed down as the crowd roared, and you adjusted the headset over your hair, smiling politely as wade barrett finished introducing you.

"joining me at ringside tonight, the voice of fight night’s future, the lovely and lethal" he smirked at you, "y/n"

you offered a confident nod to the camera, heart steady. "thanks, wade. happy to be here and ready to call it straight, no sugarcoating."

he gave a dry chuckle. "that’s what they all say."

you grinned. you were used to being underestimated, but you knew what you were doing. the energy of the arena, the rhythm of the matches, the pulse of the crowd, it all settled into your bones as if it had always belonged there.

you were in the middle of breaking down a fast-paced tag match when his entrance music hit.

the lights cut.

sword. fire.

and then drew mcintyre stepped out onto the ramp.

the crowd popped. you glanced up from your notes. one second.

that was all it took.

he saw you.

you weren’t even looking directly at him, just casually scanning the entrance like a pro but something in your presence must’ve hit him sideways. Because mid-stride, drew faltered. barely. just enough for wade to chuckle.

"well, would you look at that", he muttered into his mic. "the scottish psychopath seems. distracted."

you didn’t catch it until your monitor flashed back to his face and he was still looking your way.

you blinked. "think he’s making sure we’re paying attention" you said smoothly, recovering.

but wade wasn’t about to let it go. "oh, yeah of course" he spoke sarcasm lacing his words, shaking his head

the match began, and drew tore through his opponent like a man with a point to prove. focused. fierce. but between every grapple and slam, every smirk and side glance, it was clear, he kept looking at you.

and the camera kept catching it.

a smirk after a suplex. a wink after a pinfall escape. and then, when he finally hit the claymore and stood victorious, he looked right at the commentary table, tapped two fingers to his temple then to his heart.

directly. at. you.

the crowd howled. wade nearly spit his water out laughing away from the headset looking at you. " well that’s not in the script"

you tried to stay composed. "he’s… charismatic."

"charismatic" wade repeated. "that man’s trying to seduce you on live television."

later backstage, your phone was blowing up.

tweets. clips. screenshots of drew's stare.

"drew mcintyre saw one pretty woman in a headset and decided that was his entire personality now." "protect her. she’s flustered. he’s obsessed. i’m invested." "find someone who looks at you the way drew mcintyre looks at the new commentator."

you weren’t sure what was more intense, the look drew had given you, or the internet’s reaction to it.

but one thing was clear: your job was to call the action and in your first week you had just become part of it.

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

week two on smackdown

drew won again.

the match was over. another claymore, another victory. drew stood tall in the centre of the ring, chest heaving, sweat glistening under the lights.

he grabbed a mic from the timekeeper, and the crowd quieted, they knew this part wasn’t scripted.

"every week, i step into this ring and leave a body behind. i’ve carried this brand, i’ve bled for it, i’ve earned everything i’ve got."

the audience roared in agreement.

drew turned toward the commentary table, toward you.

his voice dropped, and that cocky grin slid into place.

"but i’ve gotta admit it’s getting a lot easier to win when there’s someone worth impressing at ringside."

your brows lifted slightly. you weren’t sure if you were supposed to react, but you didn’t need to. the crowd screamed for you.

drew smirked, pointing his mic your way.

"so as long as you’re watching, sweetheart i’ll keep giving you a show."

he tossed the mic with a thud. the camera cut to you for a split-second. you sat frozen for half a beat, then blinked and quickly adjusted your notes like nothing happened.

too late. wade barrett leaned back in his chair, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

"well, well, well. the drew mcintyre finally has a weakness."

you cleared your throat. "he’s just playing to the crowd."

"oh, he’s playing, alright", wade said. "but i don’t think it’s for the crowd"

you managed a steady voice. "let’s get back to the action"

but your cheeks were warm. and you knew the camera had caught it.

chelseagreen posted a close friends story

written: tell me how she has a better storyline than me and she isn't even wrestling

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

week three on smackdown

drew stood in front of the backstage interview screen, freshly taped fists at his sides, shoulders squared. the camera had barely started rolling when damian priest stepped into frame.

the tension was immediate.

"let’s not pretend you were some noble champion" drew said, voice low and dangerous. "you were just holding onto my title until i decided that i was ready to take it. and then you lost it"

priest tilted his head, unimpressed. "you keep talking like you’re owed something, but the reality is"

his words trailed off.

you were walking through the hallway behind them. just passing through with a clipboard in hand, headset still around your neck, eyes down. you didn’t even notice them. but drew did.

he turned his head. mid-sentence. full-body shift.

"give me a second", he said, eyes tracking you like a laser.

you glanced up when you felt it, that stare. you locked eyes for a breath before continuing on like nothing happened.

drew smirked and looked back to the camera.

"now" he said smoothly, "what were you saying about reality?"

later that night, damian priest was in the ring for a singles match when drew’s music hit.

he didn’t even walk to the ring. he just strolled out onto the stage, arms folded, watching. the crowd booed but drew wasn’t looking at them.

he was looking at you.

wade noticed immediately.

"well, i’d say drew’s scouting his opponent, but he hasn’t looked at priest once."

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the butterflies. "he likes to make an entrance."

"he likes you", wade shot back.

as Priest glared up the ramp, drew raised an eyebrow, then turned, walking off.

but just before he disappeared backstage, he glanced back.

at you.

and smirked.

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

fweek five on smackdown

another win.

drew stood in the ring, chest rising and falling, opponent flat on the mat behind him. the crowd was booing, but he looked smug, calm. In control.

as he exited the ring, he made a direct line for the commentary table.

you kept your eyes on your monitor. pretending not to notice.

he didn’t say anything.

just walked past slowly, then paused, hand resting on the back of your chair. not hard. just enough pressure for you to feel it. to know he was there.

and then he leaned in slightly.

close enough that the camera caught it. not close enough to break any rules.

then he walked away.

the camera cut back to ringside, and wade didn’t even try to play it cool.

"he’s not even being subtle anymore."

you didn’t look up. "i didn’t notice."

"he touched your chair."

"that’s not a crime, wade."

"it is when your voice just dropped a full octave."

you smiled, eyes still on your notes. drew’s match graphic was still on-screen, his win tally climbing.

you leaned just slightly toward your mic.

"he’s cute when he wins. i'll let him know if he ever loses."

the crowd erupted.

wade burst out laughing. "ohhh, there it is! i knew you had it in you!"

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

week seven on smackdown

you were alone in the hallway, flipping through notes and checking your phone when you felt someone stop behind you. not close, but near enough to pull your attention.

"busy?" drew’s voice was quieter than usual. not the promo growl. something real.

you turned. "always."

he chuckled. "you didn’t let me know I was cute this week. thought maybe I was losing my touch."

you raised an eyebrow. "you didn’t win this week."

he smirked, but there was something behind it. something softer.

"fair. still." he paused, then looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. actually nervous.

"i’m heading out after the show. shitty diner coffee. you in?"

there was a long beat where neither of you said anything.

you tilted your head, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "i’ll think about it. you win next week and i’m in."

he grinned, full and warm. "deal."

and just like that, he walked away.

no camera. no crowd.

just you and him.

drew wasn’t on the card, but the cameras still panned to him watching priest’s match from backstage. wade caught the shot immediately.

"look who’s still hanging around backstage even without a match. can’t imagine why."

you rolled your eyes "he likes to keep an eye on the competition."

wade huffed shaking his head "mhm. Is that what we’re calling it now?"

"he’s got good instincts. knows when something’s worth sticking around for.”

"are you going to stick around. for him", he asked quirking a brow at you.

you just smiled, saying nothing, but knowing everything.

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

week nine on smackdown

the camera caught you post-segment, headset off, leaning against a crate mid-laugh. drew stood in front of you, towering but easy, his arms folded, eyes fixed on you like nothing else existed.

he said something low, and you shook your head, smiling so hard you covered your mouth.

then the moment happened.

you folded your arms and shivered, the arena ac always hit harder post-match. without hesitation, drew shrugged off his entrance jacket and tossed it around your shoulders like it was muscle memory.

you blinked at him.

"i’m fine", you said automatically.

he gave a small shake of his head. "no, you’re not. Let me take care of it."

the camera panned back to the ring, but it didn’t matter.

the clip hit twitter within minutes.

wade started the minute you put your headset back on, still in drew’s jacket, sleeves far too long, your shoulders swimming in fabric.

"do you want to explain the jacket situation or should i call hr"

You rolled your eyes "i got cold."

"did you get cold, or did drew mcintyre lovingly drape his body heat over your shoulders like a protective scottish blanket?"

you, deadpanned, giving your best intimidating glare, "are you finished?"

"never. i've cleared my whole night for this."

y/ninsta posed a story

written: it's warm and smells nice. idk what all the fuss is about.

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

week eleven on smackdown

y/ninsta posted a story

written: actually going out tonight. what do i wear

chelseaagreen replied to this story: go naked i bet he's love that

y/ninsta: i hate u

tiffanywwe replied to this story: nothing!

y/ninsta: chelsea just said the same thing. i hate u both

it was fancy enough to dress up. but not the kind of place with reservations or menus that needed translating. just a small corner table in a quiet restaurant. dimly lit and a little too intimate for "just friends."

you were laughing over something dumb on your phone, still wearing eyeliner from the show, and drew was watching you like he always did, like you were something soft in a world he usually fought.

you looked up. "what?"

he didn’t blink. "you ever notice how you glow when you’re not trying?"

you blinked at him, smile faltering just enough to feel your heartbeat in your ears.

"i saw you before i even met you", he said, voice lower now. no show, no performance. "you were standing at commentary, fixing your headset, not even on camera yet. and i just"

he exhaled, smiling like he couldn’t help it.

"i just knew. i thought, ‘that’s it. i’m done. that’s her.’ and i didn’t even know your name yet."

you didn’t know what to say. so you didn’t.

you just stared, breath caught in your throat, fingers tightening around your glass.

"i know i can be a lot", he said, softer now. "and i don’t blame you if this has been confusing. but i meant every look. every second i spent near you. and i didn’t say anything until now because i didn’t want to ruin it."

your voice barely made it out. "ruin what?"

drew’s eyes met yours, steady and unflinching.

"falling in love with you."

silence.

the weight of it settled between you — heavy, real, and finally spoken.

you reached across the table, hand finding his. warm. strong. familiar.

"good,", you said, "because i’ve been falling, too."

he leant over the table, pressing his lips to yours. in a way that said, this is just the beginning

drewmcintyrewwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: i would lose every fight if it meant i got to keep you

44 notes · View notes

onlyangel4 · 4 days ago

Text

2 hands. rhea ripley. smau.

rhea ripley x reader

synopsis: you always wondered if someone like rhea ripley, fierce, untouchable, larger-than-life in the ring, could ever be soft with someone like you. turns out, she can. behind closed doors, her touch is gentle, her words quieter, and her two hands? they're all over you, in your hair, holding your waist, tracing lazy circles on your skin like you're something precious. and when she wins her championship back, her hands are all over you

faceclaim: renee rapp

warnings: 18 plus. smutty ending. soft dom rhea. possessiveness, dirty talk, oral, fingering, overstimulation.

y/ninsta posted a story

written: can’t stop stealing your hoodies. sorry not sorry

rhearipley_wwe replied to this story: bold of you to assume i want it back

rheaupdates posted a story

written: rhea spotted with a friend post raw

rhearipley_wwe posted a close friends tagging y/ninsta

written: they will call us friends, not like she is working in my hotel room rn

y/ninsta replied to this story: it's giving domestic bliss

rhearipley_wwe posted a close friends story

written: mornings like this

y/ninsta posted a story

written: having a girlfriend that travels for work means sleeping like this

rhearipley_wwe

liked by y/ninsta, archerofinfamy, americannightmarecody and 873,339 others

rhearipley_wwe: she’s trouble. the good kind.

view all 32,229 comments

y/ninsta: only for you

archerofinfamy: y’all are disgustingly cute.

user1: okay but why does this radiate soft dom energy

user2: rhea’s face 😭 she’s in love love

the locker room door had barely shut behind you before Rhea had you pressed against it, the weight of her victory and adrenaline rolling off her in waves. her breath was still heavy, her skin warm from the match, and the title belt, her title, was slung loosely over her shoulder like it belonged there.

she kissed you like she had something to prove, like the crowd hadn’t been enough, like pinning her opponent wasn’t the real win. her hands were steady and sure as they slid beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing fire along your skin. you gasped as she pressed her thigh between your legs, just enough pressure to make your knees wobble.

"mine", she whispered against your neck, lips brushing the spot that made you shiver. "all night, i was thinking about this. about you. waiting to have you exactly like this."

you didn’t answer, couldn’t. her hands were everywhere, undoing you with practiced ease, one touch at a time. she guided you gently toward the bench in the corner of the room, sitting you down, standing above you with that wild, confident glint in her eyes.

"you watched me win", she said lowly, hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your head back. "now let me show you what else these hands can do."

you swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your stomach. "rhea…"

she smirked, belt sliding off her shoulder with a metallic clatter to the floor. Her fingers curled around your wrists, guiding them up, pinning them softly above your head as she leaned in, strong but gentle, firm but slow.

"i'm gonna take my time" she whispered. "you’re not going anywhere.”

rhea’s hands let go of yours and her fingers traced the waistband of your bottoms with deliberate slowness, her dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. "i want you to feel how much i missed you", she murmured, "how much i thought about this, about you, with every slam, every kick, every scream in that ring."

you nodded breathlessly, already squirming under her gaze. she hooked her thumbs into your waistband and tugged your clothes down in one smooth, practiced motion. the cool air hit your skin, and you gasped, feeling your pulse quicken.

she took her time, spreading your legs apart, settling between them on her knees like you were something sacred , her prize, her indulgence, her after-match ritual.

"look at you" she murmured, kissing the inside of your thigh, voice low and hungry. "already dripping. you get off on watching me win, baby?"

you whimpered, back arching as her breath ghosted over your centre.

"i’ll take that as a yes."

she licked a slow, teasing stripe up your folds, and you nearly choked on a moan. Her tongue was confident and purposeful, not frantic, she wasn’t trying to rush. no, rhea didn’t rush anything. she devoured.

her strong hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread wide as she circled your clit with her tongue, slow and steady, drawing out every sound she wanted to hear from you. you writhed beneath her, your hands gripping the bench, desperate for more but she had you exactly where she wanted you.

when her fingers entered you, two thick digits curling just right, you cried out, hips bucking, but she held you still.

"stay open for me", she growled softly. "let me take care of you."

you obeyed. of course you did.

her tongue didn’t falter, her fingers finding that perfect rhythm that had your legs shaking, your breath coming in shallow, broken gasps. she moaned against you, like you were her reward and maybe you were. her prize, her possession, her girl.

you came hard, the orgasm crashing through you like heat lightning, fast and bright, stealing the air from your lungs. but rhea didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. her fingers kept working inside you, her mouth still focused, relentless in her need to draw more out of you.

"too much", you whimpered, hips trying to shift away.

she looked up, lips glistening, eyes wild with affection and hunger. "no, baby. you can go longer. i know you can. you’re so good for me."

the praise unravelled you all over again. your second orgasm hit even harder, your body convulsing under her mouth, her fingers, her voice. you were shaking, gasping her name, hands in her hair like you needed something to ground you and she let you cling, let you fall apart for her.

when she finally pulled back, her lips brushed your inner thigh, your hip, then your lips, slow and deliberate. you tasted yourself on her mouth, but more than that, you tasted ownership. devotion. that control wrapped in tenderness.

she pulled you onto her lap, arms around you like she was anchoring you back to earth.

"you okay" she asked, voice husky but soft, brushing the sweat from your forehead.

you nodded, half-lost in bliss. "better than okay."

rhearipley_wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: spent all night celebrating with my girl. this is what i fight for.

#wwe #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #rhea ripley #rhea ripley smau #rhea ripley social media au #rhea ripley x you #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley smut

72 notes · View notes

onlyangel4 · 5 days ago

Text

tay tay. grayson waller. smau.

grayson waller x wife!reader

synopsis: grayson waller thought he was doing you a favor. you’d been talking about the eras tour nonstop, and when he surprised you with tickets, he played it cool, filming your shocked reaction for his story and claiming he was "taking one for the team" he was all snark and smirks, joking about sparkly outfits and overhyped lyrics.

but from the moment you walked into the stadium, dressed in your diy outfit, glowing with joy, something shifted.

he wasn’t just there for you. he was in it. with you.

faceclaim liana liberato

you had no idea why grayson was acting so weird that morning.

he wasn’t subtle, grayson waller was never subtle. he kept looking at you like he was waiting for something. he’d hover around the kitchen, phone in hand, suspiciously casual. you were sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of his oversized shirts, scrolling through eras tour fan edits with a little ache in your chest.

the ache you’d been pretending you didn’t feel every time you saw another glittering stadium full of fans singing along to taylor. You had tried to get tickets when they dropped. tried again during the resale chaos. it hadn’t worked out. you told yourself it was fine. you'd just stream the movie again and make friendship bracelets in your pyjamas.

you didn’t notice grayson filming until he cleared his throat dramatically.

"oi" he said, with that grin he always wore before he was about to be annoying. "babe, you still crying over that glitter concert or whatever?"

you didn’t even look up. "it’s the eras tour, and no, i’m not crying. i’m emotionally processing."

"that right?" he asked, moving into your line of sight, holding out a small envelope. "here. for your emotional processing."

you blinked. "what is this?"

grayson was already recording.

you took the envelope, cautiously, your eyebrows drawing together. He said nothing, just filmed. when you opened it and pulled out the printout, your brain stalled.

the ticketmaster logo stared back at you.

then the words.

eras tour. two tickets. three weeks.

you looked up. "are you serious?"

grayson didn’t answer, just kept the camera on you as your jaw dropped, then snapped shut, then dropped again.

"grayson, are you serious?"

"deadly serious", he said, laughing now. "although i better get a damn medal for sitting through three hours of breakup songs and glitter explosions."

you tackled him before he could keep up the bit, nearly knocking the phone from his hands as you wrapped your arms around him. he groaned like it was a burden, but his other arm came around you without hesitation.

"babe, c’mon," he said into your hair, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "you’re gonna ruin my tough guy rep if you cry all over me."

"i’m not crying", you said, eyes absolutely misty. "shut up."

the video ended with that, your face pressed to his chest, both of you laughing.

he posted it to twitter within minutes.

🎥 @graysonwallerwwe

"taking one for the team. i better get a title shot and a damn sparkly friendship bracelet for this.” #ErasTour #HusbandOfTheYear

it blew up.

within an hour, you were on swifttok. Someone had already reposted the video with the caption, "the way she looks at him?? i’m unwell."

another TikTok edited the moment to lover with your gasp timed perfectly to the lyrics.

fans tagged grayson in themed outfits, suggesting looks for each era. he pretended to hate it.

you knew he secretly loved it.

you were going to the eras tour. with the man who teased you about taylor swift but secretly paid attention to everything you loved.

and the whole internet knew it.

y/ninsta posted a story

written: it's eras night

y/ninsta posted a story

written: swifties please trade with me tonight

celebsaterastour posted a story

written: grayson waller and his wife have arrived at sydney night one, following the viral video of him surprising her with tickets

y/ninsta posted a story tagging graysonwaller

written: it's all happening

graysonwaller posted a story

written: time to see what all the fuss is about

it was halfway through the set when it happened, when grayson stopped pretending.

you’d been on your feet since the lights first went down, screaming right alongside the rest of the crowd. somewhere between "cruel summer" and "fearless", your voice had gone scratchy, your makeup a little smudged, and your feet definitely sore. and yet, you’d never looked happier.

you were in a dream.

grayson had mostly played along up to that point. he made snarky commentary between songs, rolled his eyes when the girl in front of him tried to guess the surprise song again, and filmed you like you were the show, not the one on stage. but now?

now, he wasn’t just watching.

you were twirling under the pink glow of stage lights, a glittery fringe jacket swishing around your hips as you shouted the bridge to "enchanted." your hand reached back, blindly searching for his, and without thinking, he laced his fingers through yours.

you didn’t look at him right away.

but he looked at you.

your eyes were closed, a soft smile on your face like you were thirteen again, reliving a moment you’d always dreamed about. you sang every word like it was gospel, like this song had once saved your life. maybe it had.

he didn’t know every lyric. he didn’t get why a stadium full of people were crying about cardigans and mirrorballs. but he got you. and in that moment, that was enough.

he pulled out his phone, capturing a short video, just a few seconds. you, eyes closed, arm raised, mouth moving with the words, backlit by twinkling lights. then he turned the camera to himself, only slightly, and whispered into the mic, almost sheepish:

"she’s the happiest i've ever seen her."

he posted it to his story without tagging you.

it didn’t need context. it was the context.

you turned to him a moment later, breathless, glowing. "did you see that? did you hear that?!"

grayson grinned, tugging your hand to his chest. "yeah, baby. i saw. i heard. I’m here."

you wrapped your arms around him mid-song, swaying like you were slow dancing in the kitchen instead of in the middle of a stadium packed with 70,000 people. you kissed his cheek, glitter and lipstick and sweat be damned.

he kissed the side of your head in return.

and just like that, grayson walle, sarcastic, cocky, trash talker grayson, melted. not because of the lights or the music or the hype.

but because you had joy in your eyes and taylor swift in your lungs.

he wasn't just enduring the concert anymore.

he was falling in love with it, because it was wrapped around you.

graysonwallerwwe

liked by y/ninsta, reallaknight, austin_theory and 320,911 others

tagged: y/ninsta

graysonwallerwwe: took my wife to her little glitter cult and now i think i’m a swiftie.

view all 7,224 comments

user1: now i need to know what y/n's favourite song and era is

y/ninsta: midnights! you're on your own kid has gone triple platinum in our house

y/ninsta: thank you for making my dreams come true and experiencing it with me

graysonwallerwwe: it was worth it just to see how happy you were

user2: we see you, mr. waller🫶 welcome to the club.

user3: when ur tough guy husband gets converted by the power of taylor

user4: imagine being loved like THAT. you won life ma’am.

#wwe #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #taylor swift #the eras tour #wwe x taylor swift #grayson waller #grayson waller smau #grayson waller x reader

40 notes · View notes

onlyangel4 · 6 days ago

Text

glitch. liv morgan. smau.

liv morgan x tag team partner!reader

synopsis: you and liv were just giving the fans what they wanted, flirty on screen tag team moments. at least, that’s what you told yourself. but when you both starts posting cryptic captions and those lingering touches start to feel a little too real, you begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it’s not all for show anymore.

you weren’t supposed to fall for her. she wasn’t supposed to fall for you.

but maybe this glitch wasn’t an accident after all.

y/ninsta

liked by yaonlylivvonce, wwerollins, reallaknight and 499,384 others

y/ninsta: miss liv took slides one and three, the prettiest photographer ever

view all 8,118 comments

yaonlylivvonce: i'm only good a photography because you are so pretty

y/ninsta: not as pretty as you

user1: can we please talk about last night's raw, y/n and liv have such good chemistry

user2: fr they have better chemistry than i had with my last boyfriend

user3: liv being thirsty in y/n's comments. fork found in kitchen

yaonlylivvonce posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: the cutest tag team partner ever

y/ninsta posted a story

user4 replied to this story: those have to be liv's hands

user5 replied to this story: y'all would make a great couple

y/bff replied to this story: you realise that this makes it look like you are a couple

y/ninsta: i just thought it was a cute picture

yaonlylivvonce posted a story

written: not sure what it is but i like it here

yaonlylivvonce posted a story

written: i wish u saw me the way i see u

y/ninsta replied to this story: twitter thinks this is about me

yaonlylivvonce: for once twitter is right

liv hadn’t meant for it to happen. the Instagram live was supposed to be harmless, a quick post-match hangout with raquel in the locker room, nothing serious. just her, slightly disheveled in an oversized hoodie, hair pulled into a messy braid, laughing as raquel teased her about cardio and chaos.

fans were eating it up in the comments. the chat scrolled non-stop: hearts, emojis, inside jokes, the usual flurry of attention. liv thrived in it, bouncing between topics, tapping into that magnetic energy that made her feel untouchable.

and then it happened.

a notification banner slid across the top of her phone screen — only visible for a second, maybe less, but long enough.

🖤 bug in my system 🖤: "so when are you gonna stop pretending you don’t wanna see me?"

liv froze. Her smile twitched, almost imperceptibly, and her gaze dropped to the screen like gravity had yanked it there. her thumb hovered over the phone too long. raquel noticed.

the silence lasted barely two beats, but it was enough. enough for the fans to catch the way liv's face flushed. enough for Raquel to tilt her head with a smug, knowing smirk.

liv tried to play it off, laughing too quickly, but the damage was done. The comments exploded.

"WAIT DID Y’ALL SEE THAT DM??" "bug in my system?!? girl be serious" “liv blushing like she got caught texting her WIFE 😭😭😭”

someone clipped it within minutes. the video hit twitter almost instantly, timestamped, zoomed, and captioned with laser precision. "4:16. liv morgan. DM from 🖤 bug in my system 🖤. blush level: nuclear."

by the time the live ended, #bugInmysystem was trending.

and liv? she was staring at her lockscreen like it had betrayed her.

yaonlylivvonce

liked by y/ninsta, raquelwwe, biancabelairwwe and 834,492 others

tagged: y/ninsta

yaonlylivvonce: a sweet nothing that somehow became everything

view all 19,287 comments

y/ninsta: my fav glitch

raquelwwe: finally 🙄 now stop making heart eyes at each other during warmups pls

user6: NO BECAUSE I THOUGHT WE WERE STILL IN THE "is it real??" ERA I WAS NOT READY

user7: they look so soft together i’m gonna cry

user8: THIS ISN’T A DRILL. LIV MORGAN JUST HARD LAUNCHED. I REPEAT! LIV. MORGAN. HARD. LAUNCHED.

#wwe #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #liv morgan #liv morgan x reader #liv morgan fanfic #liv morgan fluff #liv morgan x you #liv morgan smau #liv morgan wwe

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onlyangel4 · 7 days ago

Text

coffee or tea || early bird or night owl || sandalwood or lemongrass || spring or fall || silver or gold || pop or alternative || freckles or dimples || snakes or spiders || mountains or fields || thunder or lightning || norse mythology or greek mythology || green or red || flute or guitar || ruby or diamond || butterflies or honeybees || cake or cookies || typewritten or handwritten || secret garden or secret library || rooftop or balcony || spicy or mild || concert or theater || london or paris || van gogh or monet || petrichor or sea salt || denim or leather || chatter or music || forest or desert || dragons or unicorns || masquerade ball or yuletide party || violence or heartbreak || hugs or kisses || bergamot or lilac

tagging: @diablasuenos @eringobragh420

୨ৎ ― thank you for the tag - @bvrnesher

୨ৎ ― tags - @the-bo1ter @mysummerchild @auntiejohn @whoo0sh @jjsblueberry @xoxoivy13 @luvrism777 @sophiaurora + anyone else!

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onlyangel4 · 9 days ago

Note

Hi, I saw that you had requests open for smau's and I'm just wondering if you could make one for Alex? Maybe something that has a little bit of angst, if you're comfortable with that? Thank you 💞🌸

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

thank you for the request. here it is.

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onlyangel4 · 9 days ago

Note

I've decided there isn't enough Alex Albon smau's on here, and I'm an absolute sucker for reverse grumpyxsunshine and single mum fics, so maybe one of them or a mix up to you. :)

thank you for the request. here it is.

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onlyangel4 · 9 days ago

Text

change my view. aa23. smau.

sunshine!alex albon x grumpy!reader

synopsis: you’ve built your world around one small, sleepy-eyed human who calls you “mama.” after her father walked out without a second thought, you promised yourself no more mess, no more chaos, and absolutely no more men who think affection is temporary. now you're a sharp-tongued f1 reporter, known in the paddock for your cold takes, unimpressed looks, and strict professionalism. you keep your head down, your heart locked up, and your daughter your only priority. enter alex albon. golden-retriever energy in human form. constantly smiling, endlessly patient, and annoyingly persistent. he’s determined to make you laugh, learn your coffee order, and prove that not every man walks away. but you're not looking for fairy tales. so you roll your eyes, cross your arms, and remind him (daily) that charm isn’t currency here. still, there’s something in the way he talks to your daughter like she’s the whole world. something in the way he treats you like you’re not broken, just guarded. and maybe love doesn’t have to hurt this time.

faceclaim: riley keough

f1updates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 129,938 others

f1updates: analysts, commentators and reporters have arrived in australia ahead of the first race of the season. it all feels real now, racing is so back

view all 6,393 comments

user1: y/n has chloe maybe that means she will be happier

user2: alex is still on the grid so i doubt that

user3: can't wait for y/n alex content, my fav enemies

user4: despite alex not knowing that they are enemies

user5: this season is so unpredictable i can't wait

y/ninsta posted a story

written: first press day of the season.

f1fan posted a story

written: i just met alex and asked him where he is heading and his answer was, "i'm looking for y/n i need chloe time". that poor woman is going to break something

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you spotted him before he spotted you. well, he was trying to spot you. that much was clear from the way he kept turning in half-circles near the williams motorhome, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun like he’d just stepped into a movie montage and hadn’t realized he was the main character.

"reporter on the run", you muttered to yourself, adjusting the strap of your crossbody bag and trying to duck behind a merch stand.

too slow.

"y/n!"

you winced. there was only one person who could say your name like a question, an exclamation, and a plea all in one breath.

you turned, slowly.

alex stood there, grinning like the sun had personally complimented him this morning. he was holding a small paper cup two, actually. one was undoubtedly for you.

you crossed your arms. "are you stalking me?"

he gasped dramatically, the exact way chloe did when you told her she couldn’t have ice cream before lunch.

"i prefer strategically appearing."

you blinked. "at my exact coffee break?"

alex smiled and held out the second cup. "i figured you'd try to escape around now. routine reporter life and all. besides"

you took the coffee. of course it was the right order. damn him.

"besides?", you asked flatly.

he scratched the back of his neck, looking suddenly shy. "i was hoping to see chloe. If that’s okay. i brought stickers."

you stared at him.

"stickers?"

"frozen-themed. don't ask how i know the characters' names now, it's already too late for me."

your lip twitched before you could stop it.

alex saw it. of course he did. His entire face lit up like he'd won a qualifying lap. "was that almost a smile? i think it was. i think i'm making progress."

you rolled your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache. "she’s with my mum right now. i’m interviewing pierre in twenty."

alex didn’t flinch. "cool. i’ll wait."

"you’ll wait…?"

"for you. for chloe", he added quickly, eyes wide with innocence. "mostly chloe."

you looked at him for a long moment. he didn’t fidget under your gaze. he just sipped his drink and looked back at you, patient and bright and utterly infuriating.

"she’s two, albon. she’ll forget about you in, like, a week."

he shrugged. "i'll keep showing up anyway. you know she asks about me now?"

your chest squeezed. unwelcome, warm, dangerous.

"she says, ‘lex go zoo today?’ i don’t even know where the zoo thing came from, but i'm prepared to commit to it."

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "you’re so annoyingly good at this."

"good at what?"

"getting under my skin but being good for chloe"

alex just smiled, quiet this time. not smug. not pushy.

"i'm not trying to be pushy. i just know you have walls up he said softly. "i’m just hoping you’ll open a door eventually."

you hated how that stuck with you the rest of the day. even more, you hated how you were starting to check your phone, not just for emails, but for photos your mum might’ve sent of chloe with her sparkly new frozen stickers.

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it was too early for this much noise. too early for the heat rising off the tarmac, the buzz of engines, the snap of camera shutters every time someone half-famous stepped into frame.

chloe tugged at your hand as you walked, her tiny steps out of rhythm with yours, her attention darting between every flash of color and sound. you held her backpack in one hand and her in the other, two-year-olds had the energy of a rock concert and the unpredictability of live television.

she was already pointing.

"look, mama! big tire!"

"yep, very big," you said, adjusting her bucket hat. "don't touch it."

"touch tire?"

"no."

"maybe touch-"

"no, chloe."

a dramatic sigh. she got that from you.

you were halfway between the alpine and williams garages when it happened. one second chloe was beside you, the next she was launching forward with a tiny, high-pitched shriek.

"LEX!!!"

you didn’t even have time to react. she was gone, barreling forward like a determined little meteorite in glittery sneakers.

your heart jumped into your throat. "chloe!"

but she already had her target.

alex turned just in time to catch her, literally, scooping her up into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. her tiny hands were gripping his cheeks like she hadn’t seen him in a year. he looked startled for half a second, then he smiled, bright and wide and full of something dangerously soft.

"there she is!" he laughed, spinning her once. "you’re fast today!"

"you said zoo!"

"i did say zoo. i also said hi to elsa on your behalf. she says hi back."

chloe giggled, head thrown back, curls bouncing under her hat.

you finally caught up, a little breathless and a lot annoyed. "chloe, we do not run off like that."

alex turned, still holding her on his hip. "sorry. she ambushed me."

"she escaped", you muttered, hands on your hips. "i should leash her."

chloe looked completely unbothered, patting alex’s cheeks like she owned him now.

"she missed you", you said before you could stop yourself. then, quieter: "clearly."

alex’s expression softened as he looked at you over her shoulder. "i missed her too."

there was a beat of silence. not awkward. just heavy.

you looked away first.

"she’s not usually like this with people."

"really?"

you nodded. "she’s shy. reserved."

alex glanced back at the toddler currently babbling about monkeys and juice boxes. "doesn’t seem like it."

"she’s selective."

he looked at you again.

"then i guess i should feel lucky", he said, voice gentle.

your chest twisted. not in a bad way. just in the way that made you feel like you were leaning over the edge of something you hadn’t meant to climb in the first place.

"she chose you."

alex didn’t say anything for a moment. he just kissed chloe’s temple, held her a little closer.

and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running.

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

paddockupdates posted a story

alex smiling like an idiot because chloe, y/n y/ln's daughter, ran up to him

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

y/ninsta posted a story

written: the japanese gp without my little shadow

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

the paddock felt different without chloe. quieter. less chaotic. less sparkly.

you should’ve been grateful. no spilled juice, no chasing toddler limbs between photographers’ knees, no judgmental glances when she had a meltdown near the mclaren garage. but you weren’t grateful. you just felt off.

you were finishing notes from a pre-qualifying interview when you felt someone slide into the seat across from you. you didn’t have to look up.

"you’re brooding", alex said.

"i’m working."

"tomato, tomahto."

you glanced up from your tablet. "shouldn’t you be in briefing?"

he shrugged. "had ten minutes. heard there was a journalist in the media centre scaring everyone with her death stare"

you snorted despite yourself. "it’s not a death stare. it’s just my face."

"exactly."

you rolled your eyes and focused back on your screen. but you could feel him watching you, quietly, without pressure, just there.

after a moment, he said softly, "where’s chloe?"

"with my mum. i didn’t want to bring her this weekend. flights are a mess, and she’s been fussy. she misses her routines."

alex nodded, something unreadable passing over his face. "i miss her"

you blinked, caught off guard by the honesty of it.

"she loves you", you said, more quietly than intended.

he smiled. "i love her too."

your chest ached. stupid, warm ache. it made your throat tight.

after a beat, he tilted his head at you. "you’re different when she’s not here."

"how?"

"sadder. sharper. like you’ve got armour on again."

you didn’t answer. not right away.

he leaned forward slightly, voice lower now. "i’ve always wondered. why the cold front? why the black cat vibes? i mean, you’re quick, you’re sharp, but there’s always this wall."

you stared at him.

and maybe it was the jet lag. maybe it was the quiet. maybe it was the fact that chloe wasn’t clinging to your leg, and you were tired of pretending you didn’t feel things around him.

so you said it.

"you don’t get to be soft when you’re left behind."

alex didn’t speak, but his expression shifted, gone was the teasing edge, replaced with something heavy. careful.

"he left before she turned one", you continued. "didn’t want the responsibility. said he wasn’t ready to be a dad. just left. blocked me. no warning. one day we were shopping for baby shoes and the next day I was googling custody laws."

alex’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to speak, but didn’t.

"i was so in love with him. i thought it would be enough to make him stay."

there was a pause. and then: "it wasn’t your job to make him stay."

you looked down at your hands.

"i know that now. but back then, i kept thinking, what’s wrong with me? why am i not enough for someone to choose?”

alex’s chair scraped softly as he stood. he walked around the table, slowly, like he was giving you time to stop him. you didn’t.

he crouched beside you, one hand resting gently on your knee.

"you are enough", he said, eyes on yours. "you are so much more than enough. and anyone who can’t see that, didn’t deserve you in the first place."

you stared at him, swallowing hard.

"and i know you're not asking for anything right now", he added, voice gentler, “but i just need you to know, i'm not him. i’m not going anywhere. not from you, and definitely not from chloe."

you blinked fast. too fast.

"i hate crying in paddocks", you muttered.

he smiled. "then don’t cry. just let yourself breathe."

you didn’t answer, but for the first time in a long time, you did.

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

alexalbon posted a story

written: missed this

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

alex had always liked monaco. the glamour didn’t impress him much, but the energy, the tight corners, the danger, the way the city felt like it was leaning in to watch. it made him feel alive.

but this morning, he wasn’t thinking about lap times or tire strategy.

he was thinking about the tiny human currently sitting on the floor of the hospitality suite, cross-legged, methodically peeling the backing off a dinosaur sticker like it held the secrets of the universe.

chloe.

"need help?" he asked, crouching down beside her.

"no", she said, serious. "i do it."

of course.

he watched as she stuck the brontosaurus to the back of his sneaker. "perfect placement", he whispered.

she beamed, clearly proud of her work, before plopping back down and grabbing another.

"is mummy busy?", he asked gently.

chloe nodded. "she say ‘no run off today,’ so i ‘tay here."

he smiled. "good listening."

"i a big girl."

"you really are."

they were quiet for a moment. then, out of nowhere, chloe spoke, soft, almost like she was testing if it was okay to say it.

"lex?"

"yeah, bug?"

"where’s your daddy?"

alex blinked. not what he was expecting.

"he lives in thailand", he said after a pause. "i don’t see him a lot, but i love him."

chloe nodded slowly, like she was filing that away in her little mental cabinet.

"my daddy don’t live with me", she said next, voice even smaller. "he didn’t want me and mummy. but it okay. mummy says we happy now."

alex’s chest went tight. not in a bad way, just in that full, aching way love sometimes feels.

"i’m really sorry he made you and your mum feel that way", he said softly. "but your mummy’s right. you are happy now."

chloe looked up at him. "she’s happy ‘cause of you."

he froze. "what?"

"mummy smiles when you there. she don’t do that for people. she says you got silly hair and talk too much, but i think she likes you."

alex let out a breath of a laugh, completely undone. "she says that, huh?"

chloe nodded, poking another sticker onto his knee. "she pretends she grumpy. but she not. she scared."

that hit harder than anything else. alex looked at her, at this tiny, intuitive little girl with wide eyes and a gummy grin, and wondered how she could read people better than most adults.

"she told you that?"

"nope. but i know. i smart." she leaned in, cupping her hand to his ear like a secret: "she likes you more than coffee."

alex clutched his heart, mock-staggering. "that’s the highest honor, you know."

chloe giggled. "you gonna marry her?"

he choked on air. "whoa, what—"

"you gots to ask me first", she said, suddenly very serious. "i’m the boss of her."

alex gave her a look of solemn respect. "noted, boss."

she nodded, satisfied, and went back to her sticker collection like she hadn’t just flipped his entire emotional world upside down.

alex sat there for a moment, watching her. then he glanced toward the paddock entrance.

and sure enough, you were there. Walking toward them, brows furrowed, eyes already searching for your daughter. until they landed on him.

and just like that, chloe was right.

You smiled.

not the polite one. not the press one. the real one. the one that reached your eyes.

alex felt it like sunlight through glass.

yeah. he was in deep.

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it was too quiet.

you were sitting on the little hotel balcony in montreal, legs curled under you, cup of now-cold tea in hand. chloe was asleep in the travel cot inside, snoring softly, tangled in her tiny bunny blanket. for once, your phone was face down.

and yet your mind wouldn’t shut up.

the problem with letting someone in, even a little is that you notice the silence when they’re not around. you notice how much brighter everything had been the past few weeks. how much lighter you felt when someone else helped carry the weight.

and now?

you missed him.

you missed alex.

a quiet knock pulled you out of your spiral.

you turned, heartbeat quickening, already knowing. only one person knocked like that, gentle, unsure, like he never assumed he was welcome, but always hoped.

you opened the door slowly.

he was standing there in a hoodie, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a small cup of strawberry yogurt.

"she told me it was her favourite", he said softly.

your chest squeezed. "she’s asleep."

"i figured." a pause. "can i still come in?"

you nodded.

he stepped inside, careful not to make noise, and placed the yogurt in the mini fridge before turning back to you.

"i heard what chloe said in monaco" you said quietly.

his smile was crooked. "the marriage proposal, or the part where she declared herself boss of your heart?"

you tried to smirk, but it faltered halfway. "the part where she said i'm scared."

he didn’t tease then. he just nodded, like he knew this moment wasn’t meant for jokes.

"were you mad?"

"no" you said. "she was right."

you crossed your arms over your chest, more out of habit than need. the armour never fully came off, even around him. but it had cracks now. deep ones.

"you scare me, alex."

he blinked, confused.

"not because of who you are. but because of how you make me feel." you looked away. "you’ve been kind. constant. patient. you didn’t run. you didn’t flinch when you saw all the mess i come with. you stayed."

his voice was soft. "that’s what people do when they care."

you looked back at him, eyes stinging.

"i think i stopped believing people could care like that."

alex stepped closer, like he was afraid too sudden a move would make you retreat. "i'm not asking you to promise me forever right now. I’m just asking you to let me be part of your now."

you exhaled shakily.

"i’m tired, alex."

"i know."

"i don’t want to be scared anymore."

he reached out, slow, careful and touched your hand.

"you don’t have to be."

there was a long silence. then you took a step forward and leaned into him, letting your head rest against his chest. he held you gently, arms wrapping around your shoulders, like you were something breakable but not broken.

"this is the part where you stay" you murmured.

he kissed your hair.

"i’m not going anywhere."

and just like that, something shifted. it wasn’t fireworks or grand declarations. it was quieter than that. steadier.

it was the start of something real.

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y/ninsta

liked by alexalbon, lando, oscarpiastri and 433,911 others

tagged: alexalbon

y/ninsta: start this season just the two of us, ended this season just the three of us

view all 9,292 comments

alexalbon: my girls

y/ninsta: thank you for breaking down my walls

lando: when can i visit i miss chloe

y/ninsta: you can come over if you promise to stop teaching her curse words

user6: i am so obsessed with this couple

user7: alex finally got y/n to fall in love with him

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 fandom #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #formula 1 #formula one #alex albon #alexander albon #alex albon social media au #alex albon x reader #alex albon smau

296 notes · View notes

onlyangel4 · 10 days ago

Text

all the stars. seth rollins.

seth rollins x ex!reader

synopsis: you met under bright lights and high stakes, a whirlwind connection between you, a british journalist and wwe’s seth rollins that felt like fate. but love across oceans is never simple. with one rooted in london and the other constantly on the road, what started as something electric slowly unraveled under the weight of time zones, missed calls, and the silence in between. when distance drove you apart, it seemed like your stars would never align again.

but time has a funny way of guiding hearts home.

faceclaim: emily vancamp

burnitdown

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 45,383 others

burnitdown: missing them hours

view all 4,998 comments

user1: i can't believe it has been three months since mom and dad broke up

user2: the day their break up was announced was the day i stopped believing in love

user3: y/n and seth go back to each other challenge

user4: i miss them so much

user5: she was his person and i stand by that

user6: he will never love anyone the way he loved y/n

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it was just another night. the kind that hummed too softly to distract from the ache.

you lay on your side, wrapped in too many blankets and not enough warmth. outside the window, the moon hung low over the lake, rippling like silver ink across dark water. you’d always loved the quiet of nights like that, still, slow, sacred. but lately, they just felt empty.

your phone sat face down on the pillow beside you. no notifications. no unread messages. just that thread left hanging, your last message read, never answered. you didn’t blame him. not really. it was hard to find time between cities and airports and roaring crowds.

but that night, even with the cold biting at the edges of your sheets, you let yourself remember.

that night in chicago, with him. the streetlamps glowing like old film, his hand brushing yours as you laughed about something neither of you could remember now. the air had smelled like rain and asphalt and late-night coffee, and he’d looked at you like you were the only thing worth slowing down for. you'd tilted your head up to the sky, pointed at a streak of light, and whispered, "make a wish."

you’d never asked what he wished for. you hadn’t needed to.

meanwhile, halfway across the world, Seth stood in the corner of a hotel room that didn’t feel like his. the windows were too clean. the silence too loud. his suitcase remained zipped at the foot of the bed, untouched even though he’d landed hours earlier. he leaned his head against the glass, breath fogging it slightly as he stared up at the same moon, maybe not at the same time, but close enough to hurt.

he lifted his phone. paused.

he typed: "i saw a shooting star and thought of you." then deleted it.

in the end, he posted a photo to instagram.

wwerollins posted a story

written: still looking.

and across the ocean, where the night was just beginning, you saw it. and your heart broke a little more gently than it had the day before.

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seth hadn’t meant to end up there.

the match had wrapped, the curtain had dropped, and the locker room buzz faded behind him. he told security he needed air, just ten minutes, no cameras, no fans. they let him go without asking questions.

he walked without a destination, hands in the pockets of a hoodie too thin for the cool night air. the streets were quiet in that soft post-midnight lull, streetlights humming, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. the kind of quiet that made it easy to fall into old memories.

that’s when he realized where he was.

three blocks down from the venue, just far enough from the noise, was a small café with chipped window paint and fairy lights wrapped lazily around the awning. it had been your favourite when you visited. you’d sat by the window that one rainy night, drinking something too sweet and laughing at how he hated foam art. he remembered how you'd traced shapes on the fogged-up glass, writing tiny notes with your fingertip. he hadn’t realized until later that one of them had said “don’t leave me behind.”

god. he’d forgotten that part. or maybe he’d forced himself to.

the café was closed now. lights off, chairs up. but the memory still pulsed like it had just happened.

he stood there for a while, just breathing in the past. he tried not to think about how that night ended, the hotel room, your soft voice saying "i know this won’t last forever, but i want it to", and his silence.

he didn’t know how to hold something without crushing it back then.

and you, you sat back home, across the world, doing something as simple as folding laundry when that memory hit you, too. the same one. the café, the rain, his smile. the universe was cruel that way , letting two people remember each other at the same time, but not letting them know it.

you checked your phone. still nothing from him.

but in your chest, something stirred. not hope. not exactly. but something quieter. something that said, he’s still out there, and maybe he’s remembering too.

you went outside and looked up at the sky. it was cloudy, but you imagined the stars were still there, just hidden. still shining.

somewhere, seth looked up at them too.

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the locker room was loud, too loud.

someone was laughing near the catering table. someone else blasted music from their phone, muffled bass shaking the walls. but seth heard none of it. not really. the adrenaline had already burned off, leaving behind the hollow exhaustion that clung to him like sweat.

he sat alone on the bench in the far corner, hands clasped, elbows braced on his knees. his wrists ached. his neck screamed. but it wasn’t the pain that had his heart pounding.

it was the weight. the kind that came after weeks, months of pretending he was fine.

he'd given the crowd everything. roared. fought. grinned like it didn’t matter that every match ended with no one waiting for him in the wings anymore. no one to come back to.

you used to sit by the monitor during his matches, knees pulled to your chest, trying not to react too obviously when he took a hard bump. he used to spot your face in the sea of chaos and breathe easier.

now? nothing. just silence.

and then someone made a joke, harmless, stupid. something about "you should call your girl and celebrate", and that was it.

the crack finally split open.

seth stood up too fast. knocked over a chair. his taped fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, shoulders shaking. a few of the guys quieted, noticing the sudden tension, but no one said anything. they knew better.

he stormed into the empty hallway, footsteps echoing. shoved open the nearest supply room and slammed the door shut behind him. the light flickered as he leaned back against the metal shelves, sliding down until he hit the cold floor.

he buried his face in his hands. and let it fall apart.

a choked breath. then another. the kind that burned deep in the chest, not from exhaustion, but from grief he’d been choking down for far too long. his shoulders shook as the tears came, silent and furious. not because he was angry at you. not even at the situation.

he was angry at himself. for letting you go without a fight. for choosing the road over the one person who saw past the lights and the title runs. for not calling. for not saying anything when he still had the chance.

his phone buzzed in his gear bag a few feet away. he ignored it.

then it buzzed again.

finally, he dragged himself up, throat raw, and pulled it out. the screen lit up with a name he hadn’t seen in too long.

he stared at the text thread for a long time.

still sitting on that cold floor, with his chest cracked open and eyes still burning, seth whispered one thing to the quiet: "god, i still love you."

and for the first time in forever, the silence didn’t feel quite so heavy.

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

your hands trembled as you held your phone to your chest. the message stared back at you like it was breathing, like it had its own pulse.

"i never stopped loving you. i just thought letting go would hurt you less than holding on."

you read it five times. then once more.

and then your thumb hovered over the screen, before you tapped "call."

it rang once. twice. three times.

you almost hung up.

then. "hey." his voice was quiet. hoarse. like he hadn’t spoken in hours. like he was afraid to speak now.

you didn’t say anything at first. the silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty. it was full. full of everything unsaid.

"i didn’t expect you to answer", you finally said. your voice cracked halfway through.

"i didn’t expect you to call", he replied. then, after a beat, "but i'm glad you did."

you swallowed, throat tight. "why now, seth?"

"i don’t know." he paused. you could hear the faint hum of the airport over the line. "no, that’s a lie. i do know. i’ve been a mess. trying to pretend I was okay, but i’m not. not without you. i kept thinking it was easier this way, that if i stayed quiet, you’d move on, and it wouldn’t hurt so much."

"it still hurt", you whispered.

"i know." he exhaled. "god, i know. i’ve been walking around with your ghost for months. every time i land somewhere new, i look for you in the crowd like an idiot. every hotel room feels colder than the last. i keep seeing you in everything, in coffee shops, in songs on the radio, in cities you never even saw with me."

you closed your eyes. "i couldn’t do the distance anymore. i hated waking up alone. hated hearing you say you missed me through a screen and not knowing when i’d see you again."

"i know", he said again. "and i didn’t fight you on it, because part of me thought maybe i didn’t deserve to ask you to stay."

another pause. then softer, more broken: "but i wanted to. i wanted to ask you to wait for me. i just didn’t know how."

the line went quiet again. you could hear his breathing, unsteady.

"i’m scared", you admitted. "what if we just hurt each other again?"

"then we take it slower. smarter. we find a way that doesn’t leave us bleeding." a beat. "i don’t want to pretend anymore. not with you."

you took a breath. then another. you could feel the ache still there, but softer now. less sharp.

"okay", you said. "then tell me something real."

seth was quiet for a second.

"i still remember the way your voice sounded that night in london. you told me you couldn’t do it anymore, that you loved me too much to keep waking up empty. i hear that every night."

your heart ached.

"but i also remember the way you looked at me in chicago. in that tiny café when you thought i wasn’t paying attention. like i was the best thing that ever happened to you. i want to find my way back to that look."

you wiped your eyes before the tears could spill.

"i still look at you that way", you whispered. "even when you’re not here."

and in that moment, neither of you were alone.

not really.

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

the first video call after everything felt surreal.

he was sitting in a dim hotel room, hair damp from a shower, wearing one of those worn black hoodies you always teased him for hoarding. You were in your london flat, the sleeves of your jumper pulled over your hands, mug of tea going cold beside your laptop.

you didn’t talk about the breakup. not yet. not directly. but the edges of it were everywhere, in the pauses, the looks, the questions you asked more softly than usual.

"are you sleeping okay?" you asked.

seth gave a tired smile. "i sleep better now. since you called."

he meant it. you could see it in the way his shoulders relaxed just from hearing your voice again.

you didn’t say you’d been falling asleep to voice notes he’d left you during your time together, the ones you never deleted. you didn’t say you still hadn’t let anyone else into your heart since him.

instead, you asked, "what city are you in tonight?"

he looked out the window behind him. "barcelona."

"oh", you said, soft. "we always said we’d go together."

"i still want to", he replied without hesitation.

silence bloomed between you, but it wasn’t heavy this time. it felt full of possibility. like standing on a cliff and realizing you’re no longer afraid to look down.

he leaned a little closer to the screen. "can i ask something?"

you nodded.

"if i flew to london, no cameras, no appearances, just me, would you let me see you? even just for coffee?”

your heart skipped.

you didn’t speak right away, because the old fear was still there. but this time, so was something else, the belief that maybe, just maybe, this time wouldn’t end in goodbye.

"i’d like that", you said. "but i don’t want to fall back into something just because we miss each other."

"i don’t want to fall", seth said. "i want to stay."

and when he said it, you believed him.

so you didn’t promise anything. you didn’t rush. but you let him see you smile. and that was enough, for now.

across the screen, his eyes softened like they used to. the look you thought you’d never see again.

that night, you opened the curtains in your bedroom and stared up at the stars.

and somewhere, high above spain, seth looked out the plane window on his red-eye flight back to you, guided by the same constellations.

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you didn’t tell anyone where you were going.

you needed it to be yours, not a story, not a post, not something to analyse over coffee with friends or turn into a caption. just yours.

it was cold outside the restaurant, the same one you used to go to when he visited. the one with the mismatched chairs and the creaky door that had never once been fixed. you sat near the window, heart hammering, watching each stranger walk by with a breath caught in your throat.

and then, he was there.

seth stood across the street, hoodie up, duffle bag slung over one shoulder. the city moved around him, fast and careless, but he didn’t move until your eyes met.

you gave a small nod.

that’s all it took.

the bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped inside. no cameras. no fans. just you and him and the quiet hum of soft jazz playing overhead.

you didn’t stand. he didn’t rush.

he slid into the seat across from you like no time had passed, and yet, all the time in the world had passed. he looked tired. different. better. worse. all of it.

"you look the same", he said softly. "like i’ve been seeing you in dreams and finally woke up."

you didn’t trust yourself to speak at first. not until he reached across the table and gently, carefully, placed his hand over yours.

no expectations. just touch. just grounding.

"i didn’t come here to fix everything in one afternoon", he said. "i just needed to see you. really see you."

you nodded, throat thick.

"i’m still scared", you admitted.

"i am too", he said. "but being without you didn’t make me less scared. it just made me lonely."

tears slipped down your cheek before you could stop them. he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. he just laced his fingers with yours and held on.

"i don’t know what we’re doing", you whispered. "i just know i don’t want to keep doing it apart."

his thumb brushed over your knuckles. gentle. familiar.

"then we don’t have to", he said. "not anymore."

you didn’t kiss right away. didn’t make any grand declarations. you just sat there, hands tangled across a tiny table, while the rest of the world passed by.

and for the first time in months, maybe years, the silence between you felt like peace, not distance.

outside, the sky began to fade into evening, the stars slow to peek through the grey. but when you both looked up, it was there again, that same quiet wonder.

the stars hadn’t moved. they’d been waiting. and now, finally, you weren’t looking at them alone.

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

it was raining when he landed. you hadn't seen him since his last visit, a month ago.

when you decided you would try this again.

not a downpour, just that kind of cold, misty drizzle that turned every streetlamp into a halo. london didn’t stop for it. people rushed past in coats and trainers, umbrellas bobbing in the current of the city. but seth, he slowed.

he let it soak into his hoodie. let it bead on the surface of the duffel bag over his shoulder. he had barely slept on the flight, but he didn’t care.

you were waiting.

and god, did it feel good to be wanted again.

you met him at the door barefoot, hoodie hanging loose over your frame, hair tied up like you hadn’t planned on making this a moment. but it was one.

he dropped his bag just inside and wrapped his arms around you without a word. you held on. tighter than last time. like you believed it now.

"i got here in one piece", he murmured against your shoulder.

"you smell like airplane and coffee."

"i’ll take that as love language."

you smiled. "it was."

the next few days were nothing spectacular and that was what made them beautiful.

you worked during the day while he trained or ran errands or facetimed friends from your living room. at night, you’d eat takeaway on the couch and fall asleep tangled together, movie credits long forgotten in the background.

one night, he walked you home from your local after dinner, hands in his coat pockets, the glow of the city making everything feel gold around the edges.

"i think i get it now", he said suddenly, glancing at the street ahead.

"get what?"

"why you couldn’t leave this. the rhythm. the roots" he paused. "you belong here. and i want to belong wherever you are, not the other way around."

you didn’t know what to say to that.

so you just reached out, took his hand, and kept walking.

back through lamp-lit streets you both knew now.

later that week, on the day he was set to fly out, you stood in your kitchen, watching him zip his bag shut.

he looked up at you.

"still okay?" he asked.

you nodded. "still scared. but still choosing you."

he grinned. "that’s all i need."

you drove him to the airport. you didn’t cry when you hugged him goodbye, not like last time. it still hurt. but it didn’t feel like the end anymore.

you kissed him softly, then whispered into his ear:

"come back soon."

he smiled, touched your forehead with his. "every chance i get."

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

it started with a missed call.

then another.

and then a third, this time during the slot you always carved out, the one labelled "s + y time" in your calendar.

you stared at your phone, thumb hovering over his name, irritation and worry rising in tandem.

you waited.

waited until it was nearly 3am your time, and your flat was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the streetlamp outside your window.

then, finally, your phone rang.

seth’s name lit up the screen.

you answered with a sigh before hello. "you okay?"

he sounded exhausted. "yeah. just, show ran long. then media. then travel delays. i know I said i’d call earlier-"

"i just wish you’d told me", you cut in, sharper than you meant. "i sat here wondering if something had happened."

there was a pause. not silence, just pause. that important kind. the kind that used to mean the start of a fight.

but not this time.

"i’m sorry", he said. "i didn’t manage the time. and i should’ve texted. that’s on me."

you blinked. that was new.

you let out a breath. "i wasn’t trying to start something. i just hate the distance sometimes. it gets loud in the quiet."

"yeah", seth said softly. "it’s been loud here too."

you pressed your phone tighter to your ear. "tell me."

so he did.

told you about the new storyline that wasn’t sitting right. the jet lag. the way some days he walked into arenas and couldn’t remember which country he was in. the way he wanted to come home but wasn’t sure where that even was anymore.

until he remembered you.

"i replay that week in london in my head more than i should", he said, voice softer now. "not because it was perfect. but because it was real. It reminded me why we’re doing this."

you wiped at your eyes, now damp for a different reason.

"i’m trying, seth."

"i know. so am i"

a pause.

then he asked, "can i see your face?"

you switched to video. no makeup, hair messy, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like armour.

his smile, even pixelated, was tired and full of love.

"there you are", he said, like it was the first time he’d breathed all day.

you curled into the couch, phone balanced on a pillow, eyes on him through the screen.

"you’re not alone", you said. "even when it feels like it."

he nodded. "neither are you."

and just like that, not with a grand gesture, not with a miracle, but with a call that could’ve been a disaster, you learned how to hold space for each other, even when space was all you had.

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

it had taken weeks of careful planning, whispered texts, and a well-timed story about a "work event" you didn’t really have.

you hadn’t stepped foot in a wwe arena in over a year, not since the last time you stood in the shadows watching him wrestle under lights you could never follow him into. but this time wasn’t about shadows.

this time was about showing up.

and bayley had made damn sure it would be perfect.

she met you at the loading dock, dressed in her gear, grinning like she was holding onto the best kind of secret.

"got your vip lanyard", she said, slipping it over your head. "you ready?"

you nodded, nerves buzzing.

"he’s been broody all day", she added with a laugh. "he thinks he’s subtle, but he keeps checking his phone like it owes him money."

you smiled. "i didn’t answer his last text."

bayley winked. "oh, he’s gonna lose it."

she guided you through the maze of corridors, past production, through catering, toward the private locker hallway near gorilla. your heart beat faster with every step. you could hear the rumble of the crowd from inside the arena, that low, electric hum that always gave you goosebumps.

"he’s in there", bayley whispered, pointing toward a side locker room. "get ready to ruin his night in the best possible way."

you laughed, nerves spiking.

then you knocked once and opened the door.

seth was pacing.

fully geared up, gloves on, hair tied back, talking to himself the way he did before every show. when he heard the door open, he turned fast, already halfway through a sentence

and froze.

like he forgot how to breathe.

you just stood there, backpack slung over your shoulder, wearing one of his old black & brave hoodies and a small, uncertain smile.

"hey", you said softly.

he blinked. "am i hallucinating?"

"nope. very real. jet-lagged and slightly underfed, but real."

he didn’t move for a second. then his face broke into something soft, stunned, and entirely overwhelmed.

"you’re here."

you nodded. "i missed you."

in two long strides, he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms tight, grounding, full-body relief. he buried his face in your neck, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath since you left.

"i can’t believe you did this" he murmured.

"bayley might’ve helped."

"i’m proposing to her."

you laughed against his shoulder. "rude."

he pulled back enough to look at you, eyes wide and shining. "god, i needed this. you have no idea."

you reached up, brushing hair from his face. "i think i do."

later, after his match, you were standing just backstage when roman, kevin, and sami passed by.

kevin gave you a dramatic once-over. "so you’re the secret weapon. i thought he was smiling too much tonight."

sami grinned. "i saw him almost skip to gorilla. man was floating."

roman just gave you a nod and a small smirk. "he’s better with you around. we all see it."

you smiled, heart full.

back in seth’s locker room, he toweled off, still sweaty from the match, but his smile hadn’t dropped once.

"stay a few days?" he asked.

you stepped closer. "try and stop me."

he leaned down, kissing you slow, like he didn’t care about anything else in the world.

and maybe, for now, he didn’t have to.

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

it had taken everything in you not to blurt it out the second you found out.

the email came while you were mid-deadline, an unexpected offer from a u.s outlet you’d freelanced for once, now offering you a full-time position. based in chicago. remote flexibility. travel support. Health benefits.

and a single line at the bottom that made your breath catch:

"we’d love to help you make the move, if you’re open to relocating stateside."

you sat there for a full hour, rereading it. not because you weren’t sure but because you already were.

seth was in the kitchen of the airbnb you’d rented for the weekend, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair messy, humming a deftones song as he poured coffee into two mugs.

you slipped your phone onto the counter behind him.

"hey", you said.

he turned, smiling. "morning, angel."

you walked closer, heart pounding for an entirely new reason.

"i, uh i’ve got something to tell you."

seth tilted his head. "yeah?"

you handed him your phone, unlocked and already open to the email.

he read it once. then again. his brows knit. then rose.

"you got a job offer", he said slowly.

you nodded. "a good one. steady journalism work. i can travel with you sometimes. work remotely. and.."

"you’d move here.", it wasn’t a question.

you met his eyes. "if you’ll still have me."

he just stared at you for a second, like the words hadn’t landed yet.

and then he set the mug down and crossed the space between you in two strides.

he kissed you like you’d just saved him.

when he finally pulled back, he didn’t say anything for a moment. just held your face between his hands like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"you’d leave everything for this?"

you smiled. "i’m not leaving everything. i’m choosing something."

he exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours. "you don’t know how long i’ve dreamed of this."

you whispered, "then wake up. because i’m here."

y/ninsta posted a story tagging wwerollins

written: finally home

#wwe #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #seth rollins #seth rollins x you #seth rollins x reader #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins wwe #seth rollins angst #seth rollins fluff

55 notes · View notes

onlyangel4 · 11 days ago

Text

soft spot. damian priest.

damian priest x single mother!reader

synopsis: when you, a single mom join the smackdown roster, you are ready to fight both for your career and your child. damian priest isn’t known for his warmth, but the moment your kid starts following him around backstage, something in him shifts. he didn’t mean to care. he didn’t mean to fall.

but some families find you when you least expect it.

faceclaim: jenna dewan

wrestlingupdates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 45,682 others

wrestlingupdates: y'all already know that i'm so excited. y/n y/ln has been drafted to smackdown and i can't wait to see what my favourite girl gets up to on the main roster.

view all 4,586 comments

user1: i am so excited for content of cleo causing chaos behind the scenes

user2: i have been a fan of y/n since she started in tna, twenty years later she is finally getting the recognition she deserves

user3: that's my girl

user4: OMG IT IS FINALLY happening

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

you’d gotten used to new locker rooms.

ring lights changed, logos swapped out, but the feeling always stayed the same, a twist low in your stomach, like your body hadn’t caught up with your brain. you’d stood under banners that read impact, aew, nxt, and now, finally, the unmistakable blue and white of smackdown.

your daughter cleo clutched your hand tighter than usual, her fingers curled into your palm. she was six, impossibly curious and maddeningly fearless, until it came to loud arenas and unfamiliar faces. you knelt beside her in the hallway, brushing a curl away from her cheek.

"remember what we said?", you asked softly.

she nodded, eyes wide. "no running. no yelling. no getting suplexed."

you smiled despite the nerves. "good girl."

there were wrestlers moving past you, some familiar from nxt call-ups, others legends you'd only brushed shoulders with at cross-promotional events. a few gave you polite nods. a couple of the women smiled at cleo. no one stopped.

a pa pointed you toward your locker room. it was smaller than you expected but clean. functional. you dropped your duffel bag and helped cleo settle onto the little folding chair beside your things, handing her a snack and her tablet.

"stay here, okay? i’m going to go check the board and find my producer."

she pouted. "can’t i come?"

you hesitated. the hallway would be full of people. "five minutes. don’t move."

you didn’t like leaving her, but you didn’t have a choice. you didn't want to overwhelm her, or yourself

the rundown board wasn’t far. you scanned the paper tacked to the cork, finding your name buried in the second hour, promo segment. no match yet. safe start.

you turned back.

cleo was gone.

your heart slammed into your ribs.

you pivoted fast, eyes darting down the hallway, nothing. the crowd around the gorilla position blurred as your adrenaline surged. you took a step forward.

then froze.

there she was, about thirty feet down the corridor, standing in front of someone tall, imposing, and completely draped in black.

damian priest.

you recognized him instantly, taller in person, every inch the brooding solo act he’d become post the judgment day. hair slicked back, leather jacket gleaming under the fluorescents. he looked down at cleo, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

cleo pointed at his boots. "you look like a vampire."

for a split second, you thought he’d ignore her.

then his mouth twitched. just barely. "maybe i am."

you moved quickly, heart still pounding. "cleo", you said, a bit more sharply than you meant to. she turned, grinning.

"mom! he’s huge."

"i see that", you breathed, placing a hand on her shoulder. you looked up at damian. "sorry. she tends to wander when i blink."

he looked at you then. something passed through his expression. not judgment. not even amusement.

recognition.

"it’s fine", he said simply. his voice was low, calm. "she’s not bothering me."

you blinked. "still, i should’ve... thank you."

he nodded once, then walked past you both, disappearing down the hall without another word.

cleo tugged at your hand. "he’s cool."

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "yeah", you murmured. "he really is."

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

y/ninsta posted a story

written: if anyone is wondering why i showed up last night wearing a dress it was because miss cleo needed us to match

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

the second week felt less like walking into a storm and more like stepping into a tide you were starting to understand.

no one looked twice when you passed catering this time. a few nodded. bayley threw you a quick wink. you didn’t stop. you had your gear bag slung over one shoulder and just enough caffeine in your system to fake confidence if needed.

cleo was safe. that mattered most.

she’d cried a little when you dropped her off with the wwe childcare team, new toys, kind staff, still too many strangers. but she was in good hands. better than last week, where she’d nearly walked into the lions den.

speaking of…

you rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into him.

he caught the strap of your bag before it could slide off your shoulder, steadying it like it was nothing. like you were nothing to worry about either.

"hey", he said.

you blinked up at him. "hi. sorry. i didn’t see you."

he let go of the strap and leaned back against the wall, arms folded. Same as last week. dark clothes, focused expression. less intimidating now, but only just.

"no cleo today?" he asked.

you raised an eyebrow. "you remembered her name."

he shrugged. "she made an impression."

you gave a short laugh. "yeah, she tends to do that. She’s with childcare this week. probably convincing someone to let her run a match or eat five granola bars in a row."

a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. it was quick. almost shy.

"you okay with that?" he asked.

the question caught you off guard. not how’s your kid, but how are you handling this?

you hesitated. "i guess i have to be."

he nodded, not pressing. just listening.

you sighed. "she’s great. adjusting fast, better than me half the time. but i still feel like i’ve got one foot in the ring and the other one stuck in a daycare cubby. not exactly the image you want when you're trying to prove yourself."

he tilted his head. "image doesn’t win matches. hunger does."

you looked at him. he said it like he’d lived it. like he still was.

"you always talk like that?", you asked, half a tease.

he smirked. "only when i mean it."

you paused, then leaned next to him against the wall. not touching. just closer.

"you’ve been on top of this brand for months", you said. "so what are you still hungry for?"

for a moment, you weren’t sure he was going to answer. his gaze drifted to a production cart nearby, like something just offstage had taken root in his head.

"quiet", he said finally. "something real."

you turned to him, brows furrowed.

"wrestling’s loud", he added. "noise. hype. people cheering for who they think you are. i like when someone sees through that."

you weren’t sure what to say. but the silence between you didn’t feel awkward.

it felt safe.

you watched as he pushed off the wall, giving you one last look before heading down the corridor.

"tell cleo i said hi", he said, voice quieter now.

you nodded. "i will."

and for the first time since your call-up, you didn’t feel like you were walking into the spotlight alone.

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

the hotel room was small, but clean. two beds, dim lamplight, the low hum of some animated show playing on the tablet.

cleo sat cross-legged on the comforter, still wearing the glittery blue hoodie you’d packed for her in case she got cold. she had a juice box in one hand and was absently brushing her doll’s hair with the other.

you sat at the edge of the opposite bed, unlacing your boots one slow loop at a time. your body ached in all the familiar ways, tight knees, stiff shoulders but your heart that was quieter tonight.

cleo looked up suddenly. "mommy?"

"hmm?"

"did you see my friend at work today?"

you froze.

you didn’t need to ask who she meant. there was only one person she’d fixated on enough to give that title to. not rey mysterio, not liv, not even charlotte. damian.

you swallowed a smile. "i did, yeah."

her eyes lit up. "what was he doing?"

"standing around looking serious. you know. like always"

she giggled. "he’s so big. but he doesn’t scare me."

"i noticed."

you crossed the room and knelt next to her bed, brushing the juice-sticky hair back from her forehead. she yawned, blinked slowly.

"he asked about you", you said softly.

her whole face lit up. "he did?!"

"hhm. said to tell you hi."

She tucked her doll under the blanket like it was the most important thing in the world, then looked up at you with sleepy seriousness. "he’s nice. he seems a little sad though"

you paused.

"yeah", you murmured. "he kind of does."

"maybe he needs a hug."

your throat tightened unexpectedly.

you kissed her forehead. "you’re something else, kiddo."

she grinned, proud.

a few minutes later, she was asleep, small limbs curled, hair sticking out in every direction. you turned off the lamp, sat in the dark for a long time, scrolling through match footage on your phone.

but your mind wasn’t on wristlocks or crowd reactions.

it was on a man with shadows behind his smile, and the way your daughter had looked at him like she already knew he was safe.

you weren’t sure what was happening yet.

but it was starting to feel like more than just coincidence.

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

damian wasn’t sure what made him do it.

one second he was walking past the crew hallway, the next he was crouched in front of a wide-eyed little girl in sparkly sneakers and a ponytail, whispering: "want to see your mom’s match?"

cleo didn’t hesitate. she just grinned and nodded like it was the best idea anyone had ever had.

it probably wasn’t.

he knew talent weren’t supposed to pull kids from daycare mid-show. knew security would ask questions if they spotted him dragging a six-year-old through the maze of cables and crates near gorilla. but when cleo slipped her small hand into his without a second thought, it was already done.

now she sat beside him in a folding chair behind the curtain, her legs swinging, her eyes locked on the monitor.

"is this where she comes out?" she whispered.

he nodded. "any second now."

cleo squirmed with excitement, holding a small bag of dinosaur-shaped gummies, he'd grabbed them from his own stash. he told himself it was just a kindness. something small. nothing more.

but then your music hit.

and cleo lit up like the fourth of july.

"there she is!" she squealed, pointing at the screen. "that’s my mommy!"

damian smiled, small, private. he watched as you stepped into the light for the first time under that enormous main roster stage.

no nerves on your face. just fire.

and something else. something determined.

he didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until cleo tugged his sleeve. "she’s gonna win, right?"

he nodded. "i’d bet on it."

and when your match started, he didn’t look away once.

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

you didn’t have time to be nervous. this week was your first real match on smackdown, it was even more daunting considering seasoned pro naomi was your competition.

your music was already queued. your wrists were taped. the production team was shouting cues and pushing talent past you toward Gorilla.

it wasn’t your first match, not by a long shot. you’d bled under different banners, fought in cages, flipped off balconies. but this one felt heavier. brighter. more visible. it was the first time under the big lights with wwe’s main roster eyes all on you.

your heart pounded like a drumline in your chest. not from fear.

just pressure.

you glanced toward the tunnel, looking for someone, anyone familiar but the spot was crowded. and cleo she was supposed to be far from here, in childcare on the other side of the building.

at least she was safe. that was all that mattered.

you rolled your shoulders, focused forward.

then the match producer tapped you. "you’re up. good luck."

you exhaled and stepped into the curtain.

and the crowd roared.

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

you didn’t hear everything after that.

the match moved in flashes. you remembered the pop when your name was announced. the sound of boots on canvas. the thud of your finisher landing clean. the heat from the lights. the way you breathed harder than usual, not from cardio, but from emotion that had no place in the ring but showed up anyway.

and then, three slaps on the mat.

your theme hit.

you’d won.

just like that.

you stood in the centre of the ring, arm raised, chest heaving, and scanned the crowd almost by instinct. you didn’t know what you were looking for

until you saw them.

tucked behind the timekeeper’s area, down low by the barricade where the cameras wouldn’t catch them unless they looked hard

cleo.

perched on someone’s lap, wearing her sparkly hoodie, waving both hands in the air like she was trying to call down lightning.

and behind her?

damian.

hat pulled low, hoodie up, clearly trying not to draw attention. but his eyes were unmistakable. focused entirely on you.

he gave you a slow, subtle nod.

not for the cameras. not for the roster.

for you.

you almost missed your cue to leave the ring.

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

later, when the show wrapped and the adrenaline faded, you found them both in the hallway near your locker room. cleo ran toward you the second she spotted you, arms outstretched.

"you did it!" she yelled. "you beat her so fast! and you flipped! and he let me sit in the chair with the headphones but i didn’t touch anything!"

you caught her in your arms, burying your face in her hair. "wait, what?"

cleo turned and pointed dramatically at damian. "he broke me out! like a ninja!"

you stared at him.

he looked almost guilty. almost.

"before you get mad", he said, hands up in mock surrender, "she asked nicely."

you just looked at him, speechless for a beat. "you snuck her out."

"she missed you", he said softly. "and i thought she’d want to see you win."

your heart stuttered.

and then melted.

You looked down at cleo. "did you have fun?"

"best day ever."

you looked back up at him. "you know this means she’s going to ask for this every week, right?"

he smirked. "guess i'll have to start showing up early."

you didn’t say anything else. you couldn’t, really, not with your throat tightening the way it was. so instead, you smiled.

a real one.

and somewhere inside you, something warm and dangerous started to settle in.

because this? this was starting to feel like something you might not want to walk away from.

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

the hotel room was dark, save for the faint blue glow of the tv. some mindless rerun played without sound, but he wasn’t watching.

damian sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees, still half in his gear. he hadn’t bothered to take off his boots. Just the hoodie. the adrenaline had worn off hours ago, but something else hadn’t.

he could still hear her laugh. the kid.

cleo.

she’d sat on his lap like it was nothing. like she’d known him forever. no hesitation. no fear. she’d asked him how he got his hair so shiny and whether or not he’d ever wrestled a dinosaur. she’d called the match like a pint-sized commentator, whisper-shouting into the headset when her mom hit the finisher.

and when the match ended, she’d clapped so hard he thought she might break her hands.

damian hadn’t smiled like that in a long time.

he’d told himself it was just a gesture. something nice. a favor. maybe a small rebellion against the usual rules.

but that wasn’t true.

the truth was he wanted to see you win.

not just the match.

he wanted to see you find your place here. to be seen, the way you deserved to be, not just as "new call-up" or "former AEW star" or "the one with the kid." he’d watched the roster underestimate you for weeks. he knew the look. he’d lived it himself when he started.

but tonight, they couldn’t deny you.

not after that pop.

not after that finish.

and watching you walk up the ramp, shoulders squared, chin high, eyes scanning the crowd he’d felt something settle low in his chest. not nerves. not pride.

something quieter.

more dangerous.

damian sighed and leaned back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

this wasn’t just about admiration anymore.

it was becoming personal.

and that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

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

you didn’t sleep deeply that night.

cleo curled into your side, one small foot lodged beneath your ribs. the hotel ac rattled faintly, and your back still ached from the match. But that wasn’t what kept you up.

it was him.

damian.

you kept replaying the moment you saw them down by the barricade. the way he’d looked at you, silent but so present. no big gesture. no smirk. just solid. like someone you could fall into and not hit the ground.

it was a ridiculous thought.

this business didn’t allow softness. or time. or relationships that lasted longer than the next tour loop.

but then there was cleo, asleep beside you, mumbling his name in her dreams.

you weren’t sure what was happening.

but it felt like the kind of thing that didn’t stop easily once it started.

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

wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: y/n has arrived ahead of her first ple, the elimination chamber where she has a tag match with tiffany stratton against nia jax and candace larae

wwe posted a story tagging archerofinfamy and rhearipley_wwe

written: the terror twins have been reunited for the first time since damian priest left raw during the transfer window

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

finally being back with damian rhea felt like she had missed a whole season of damian's life.

she noticed it before she even made it to catering.

damian, leaning against a stack of production crates, arms crossed, pretending to scroll his phone.

you, sitting cross-legged on the floor with cleo in front of you, helping her colour a foam championship belt from the merch table like it was the most serious thing in the world.

cleo asked something. you smiled, laughed, pushed her curls out of her face.

and damian?

that man didn’t so much as blink, but everything in his posture said, locked in.

rhea smirked.

she detoured straight toward him.

"let me guess", she said, stopping beside him. "you're just coincidentally standing here. middle of traffic. next to this specific hallway."

damian didn’t look up. "it’s not like that."

"right", rhea drawled. "it’s not like anything. you just ‘happened’ to wander near the girl you’ve been brooding over for the last three shows while her kid paints glitter on a fake belt."

he glanced over. "you done?"

"nope." she leaned on the crate beside him, arms folded. "she’s cool. you like her. cleo loves you. you’re literally the only person on this brand that kid listens to. this whole soft-parent-energy thing is actually very cute. so what’s the holdup?"

damian exhaled, jaw flexing. "it’s not that simple."

rhea tilted her head. "why not?"

"because she’s new. and talented. and already has enough to prove without everyone whispering that she’s sleeping her way up the roster. because she’s got a kid and i’m..."

he stopped. didn’t finish.

rhea watched him for a moment, the edge softening slightly in her expression. "because you’re scared."

he didn’t deny it.

"look", she said, voice quieter, "i'm not saying get down on one knee and propose tomorrow. but you’re already halfway in. the kid adores you. she clearly feels something. you showing up? that means something."

he shook his head slightly. "i don’t want to mess it up."

"then don’t." she nudged his shoulder. "tell her. before someone else does."

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

later that evening, following the elimination chamber cleo had passed out on a row of production cases, mouth slightly open, marker still clutched in her fist.

you were half-watching the monitor rewatching your match, the rest of your brain stuck in that foggy space between exhaustion and gratitude.

and then damian sat down next to you.

quiet. no preamble. close enough to feel the warmth of him but not enough to press.

"hey", you said.

"hey."

you both watched the screen for a beat.

then, without looking at you, he asked, voice low "if i said i wanted to take you out sometime what would you say?"

you blinked. looked at him, really looked.

"i’d say" you paused, smiling softly, "it’s about time."

and for the first time since you’d met him

he smiled back.

fully.

openly.

like something had finally been decided.

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

one week into dating damian

cleo had a habit of crawling out of bed before you and wandering straight into whatever hotel room was across the hall, usually damian’s.

one morning you woke to an empty bed, slipped on your hoodie, and crossed the hall barefoot, fully ready to scold her.

but when you pushed open his door, you froze.

there she was, knees tucked under her, balancing on the edge of his bed with a tablet in hand, while damian sat beside her cross-legged, head tilted, listening intently.

"okay", cleo said, very seriously, "this one’s a therizinosaurus" , her pronunciation of the word was terribly wrong but utterly adorable. "it had really long claws and was a herbivore, but also terrifying."

damian nodded. "that’s actually a great name for a finisher."

you blinked. "are you guys naming moves after dinosaurs?"

he looked up. "only the deadliest ones."

cleo grinned. "we already picked one that is yours momma. wanna know what it’s called?"

you couldn’t say no.

and you didn’t want to.

archerofinfamy posted a story

written: tired on pretending dinosaurs aren't cool as hell

wwe posted a story tagging archerofinfamy

written: damian priest just debuted a terrifying new move that is calling the spinosaurus ddt

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

three weeks into dating damian

you had a big match, one you wanted cleo to watch.

damian had been eager to be the one to watch her.

he sat at gorilla, watching you from behind the curtain. not in a possessive way. just proud. like watching the moment before lightning struck.

cleo stood beside him with a headset way too big for her head, shovelling gummy sweets into her mouth, free hand holding his wrist tape like it was treasure.

"do you think she’s nervous?" she whispered.

"no", he said, eyes still forward. "she’s ready."

he meant it. but he also meant: you always are. that’s who you are.

cleo giggled and held up the tape. "can i wear it?"

"only if you promise to cheer loud."

she nodded like it was a blood oath.

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

a month into dating damian

cleo was sick.

nothing major, just a fever and exhaustion, but it hit hard after travel day, and she clung to you like gravity. you were supposed to wrestle that night, a solid match with a new push behind it.

but cleo had her arms locked around your neck, flushed and sweaty, and you’d already texted the producer your regrets.

then damian appeared in the doorway.

you started to tell him it was fine. that you had it under control. that you’d ordered Pedialyte and she’d be okay by morning.

he didn’t say anything.

just walked over, sat on the floor beside the bed, and held cleo’s tiny, fever-warm hand until she fell asleep.

later, after everything calmed down, you whispered, "thank you."

he shook his head. "you don’t have to do all of this alone."

and somehow, for the first time in years

you believed it.

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

eight weeks into dating damian

you weren’t exactly hiding anymore.

people talked. rumors swirled. a few fans had caught on via glances, hallway sightings, or the time cleo accidentally called him "d" in front of a camera crew.

but you kept it quiet. protected.

not for shame, but for peace.

still, moments slipped through. you brushing glitter off his shoulder. him sneaking you cleo’s favourite snacks in catering. cleo climbing into his lap during a production meeting, chewing on a lanyard, and declaring him her "most bestest backup daddy."

he didn’t correct her.

not even once.

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

two months dating damian

you didn’t mean to say it that night.

not in the way people usually plan for those moments. there was no candlelight. no big romantic speech. no music playing in the background. just the hum of the a/c, cleo’s quiet breathing from the second bed, and the weight of his arm draped across your stomach.

damian was half asleep beside you, still in joggers and a thermal shirt. the room smelled like takeout and travel-sized lotion. it was one of those rare nights where you had nowhere to be. just here.

just with him.

you rolled to your side slowly, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. He looked peaceful like this. less guarded. younger, even.

he stirred at your touch, blinking at you.

"you okay?" he asked, voice low and rough.

you nodded. "yeah. just thinking."

"about what?"

you hesitated, then exhaled.

"how lucky i am", you said quietly. "to have this. to have you. to not be alone in it all anymore."

damian didn’t say anything at first. just brushed your wrist with his thumb, soft and steady.

then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you whispered it, barely above the buzz of the a/c.

"i love you."

silence.

and then

his hand stopped moving.

your breath caught.

he sat up slightly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light.

"you do?", he asked, not teasing. just stunned.

you nodded, nerves bubbling under your skin. "i didn’t mean to say it like that. not all weird and sleepy and-"

"i love you too."

he said it before you could spiral further. no hesitation. just warm certainty.

"i’ve been trying not to say it for weeks", he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "didn’t want to freak you out. or mess this up."

you laughed, quiet and shaking. "you could never."

damian leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, both of you breathing the same small space.

"i love you", he said again. "both of you. it’s not even a question anymore."

across the room, cleo turned in her sleep, murmuring something about "dinosaurs and pancakes."

you smiled.

this wasn’t flashy. it wasn’t loud.

but it was real.

and for the first time in years, love didn’t feel like something you had to fight for.

it just was.

y/ninsta

liked by archerofinfamy, beckylynchwwe, biancabelairwwe and 489,322 others

tagged: archerofinfamy

y/ninsta: just us. some snacks. a few late nights. cooking classes. & a man who carries stickers in his gear bag "just in case."

view all 18,283 comments

archerofinfamy: my girls

beckylynchwwe: i knew it. didn’t even need the detective hat. congrats mama

rhearipley_wwe: i’ve been WAITING. cleo’s the real star here tho, sorry not sorry

user5: the soft launch era is OVER. we are FEEDING

user6: damian "i destroy men for fun and braid toddler hair" priest??? iconic

user7: you went from indie darling to smackdown star to mom of the year with a hot wrestling boyfriend. living the dream fr.

#wwe #wwe fandom #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #damian priest smau #damian priest #wwe smau #damian priest x reader #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fluff

157 notes · View notes

onlyangel4 · 12 days ago

Text

held. cody rhodes. part two.

cody rhodes x chronically ill!reader

synopsis: chronic illness teaches you how to disappear, quietly, politely, without complaint. but when a painful fall at a crowded bar leaves you stranded, it’s cody rhodes who stops. not because of fame. not out of obligation. because he noticed. and he stayed.

faceclaim: dakota johnson

author's note: in this the reader suffers from elhers danlos syndrome, i have elhers danlos so i find it easier to write but if you have a different chronic pain condition please do imagine it as that. for storyline purposes cody didn't have a match.

part one

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

the café he picked wasn’t far from your hotel. small, tucked between a used bookstore and a boutique guitar shop, with foggy windows and only one person working the counter.

no fan mobs. no cameras.

just two chairs in the back by a chipped brick wall.

you spotted him before he saw you, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, a black hoodie pulled up halfway, baseball cap tugged low. casual. comfortable. but his knee bounced like he wasn’t sure what to expect.

you hesitated at the door. it felt ridiculous, how nervous you were. like this was a date. like it mattered.

(like it wasn’t the first time someone had really looked at you and stayed.)

then he saw you and stood instantly.

"hey", he said, smile already soft.

"hi", you breathed.

the hug wasn’t planned, but it happened anyway. he pulled you in gently, careful of your shoulder, his arms warm and solid and too real for the way your stomach flipped.

"you okay?" he asked as he pulled back, his eyes scanning your face like it held answers.

you nodded. "bruised, mostly."

"you wear it well", he said, grinning.

you sat across from him, heart thudding louder than it should have. there was a drink waiting for you already, hot tea, perfectly steeped.

you blinked. "how’d you know?"

"i asked your friend on Instagram", he said, completely unapologetic. "bribed her with tickets."

you laughed, half surprise, half amusement. "that’s cheating."

"absolutely", he said, sipping his coffee. "zero shame."

there was a pause. comfortable, but full.

and then you were brave and broke it.

"i was on twitter earlier, people think we’re a thing", you said quietly.

he looked at you for a long beat. "do you want us to be a thing?"

your breath caught.

you didn’t answer. not yet.

instead, you looked down at your tea, fingers curling around the warmth.

"i didn’t think you’d actually text", you admitted.

"why not?"

"because people usually don’t."

"i’m not people."

that line, said so simply, lodged itself somewhere deep in your chest.

the moment hovered. still light. but no longer weightless.

he leaned forward a little, elbows on the table.

"i know you didn’t ask for all this attention. i just wanted to check in. to make sure you were still you under all the noise."

you looked up at him. really looked.

and there he was, not the guy from the posters or the ring or the viral photos.

just him.

"i am", you said. "still me."

he smiled, and you thought:

god, i hope this isn’t just kindness.

because something about the way he looked at you made it feel like it wasn’t.

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

wrestlingupdates posted a story

written: the girl cody was with last night was spotted out in vegas this morning. sources state she was seen going into a coffee shop to meet cody

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

the café emptied out slowly, but neither of you moved.

outside, the light had shifted, golden, low. late afternoon creeping toward evening. the kind of hour that always felt like an ending.

he glanced at his watch. then at you. "i’ve gotta be at the airport in a couple hours."

you nodded like you hadn’t already known that.

of course he did. he was cody rhodes, wrestlemania main-eventer, weekly flyer, human brand. you didn’t know where he was headed next, but you were pretty sure it involved pyrotechnics.

still, it felt different to hear it out loud. it made everything feel smaller. less permanent.

"don’t feel like you have to say you’ll keep in touch", you said quietly, fingers tracing the edge of your mug. "i’ve done the part where people mean well. i don’t need..."

"i’m not people", he said again, soft but certain.

you looked up. met his eyes. he wasn’t smiling now.

"i’m not saying anything i don’t mean", he added.

something in your chest ached, hopeful and guarded at the same time.

"i just" you hesitated. "i don’t really date. i don’t do casual. and i'm not great at chasing people who are half-here."

he didn’t flinch. just nodded slowly, like he was weighing that truth with care.

"then let’s not be casual", he said. "let’s be intentional. even if it’s weird. even if it’s long-distance. even if we’re figuring it out in fragments."

you blinked. "you make that sound so easy."

he grinned. "i'm a wrestler. my whole job is making hard things look easy."

you huffed out a laugh. "that was a terrible line."

"i know", he said proudly.

the silence after that was warm, but stretching, like something was about to end, or change. he reached for his wallet, then paused.

"can i get a photo with you?", he asked.

you tilted your head. "why?"

"because if i don’t, the internet’s going to start ai generating couple pictures, and they’ll be terrifying."

You laughed, then leaned in.

he pulled out his phone, snapped a quick one. then, at the last second, turned and kissed your cheek before the shutter clicked again.

the camera caught the moment, blurry, close, real.

you didn’t even know he posted it until hours later, on his instagram story:

americannightmarecody posted a story

written: great company

and just like that, the rumour mill started again.

but you didn’t care.

because when he said he’d call you when he landed,

he meant it.

and you already knew you’d answer.

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

you never set rules. you never defined it.

but somehow, the distance didn’t make it disappear.

he called you the night he landed in chicago. the sound of his voice over the phone made your breath catch, warmer than you remembered, somehow.

he didn’t say much. just:

"tired. cold. thinking about you."

"sleep", you whispered.

"call you tomorrow."

and he did.

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

some nights, it was only a text.

Cody [1:14 AM]:

full arena tonight. my ribs hate me. you’d hate this hotel mattress more.

You [1:15 AM]:

i believe in you. you will survive that mattress

he sent a selfie the next morning, outside the arena, hoddie pulled up, smiling like a jester. you screenshotted it before you could think twice.

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

other nights, you facetimed.

once, he was backstage in his gear, stretching on a crate while crew members yelled in the background.

you were in bed, oversized hoodie, your heating pad glowing beside you.

"i look like a lump", you muttered.

"you look like someone i'd rather be next to than in this sweaty locker room."

you tried not to let it mean too much.

(it did anyway.)

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

the first time you cried on the phone, it wasn’t about him.

it was your body, breaking down, again. a flare-up that had been building for days. the dull ache behind your eyes had bloomed into a full-body fire, every joint screaming in its own rhythm. your fingers had gone stiff, curled into reluctant claws, and your back had locked up so badly you couldn’t sit or lie down without something giving way.

it felt like you were shrinking inside yourself, like your own skin didn’t know how to hold you anymore. you felt ancient and helpless and impossibly tired.

you didn’t want to call. you stared at his contact for five whole minutes, debating whether the pain was real enough, bad enough, worthy enough to warrant his attention.

it wasn’t about him.

but it was about the fear that he’d hear you like this and disappear.

still, your hands hurt too much to text. so you called.

he answered on the second ring.

"hey", he said, voice quiet, softer than usual, like he could hear the hesitation before you even spoke.

you tried to sound normal. you failed.

"my hands", you swallowed. "they’re bad today. i can’t even my back’s gone too. i feel like i’m ninety."

there was a silence on the line. not the uncomfortable kind, just space. room to exist.

then:

"where are you right now?" he asked.

"couch."

"you’re okay. you’re okay", he said, like a mantra. "can you breathe for me?"

you did. shaky, shallow breaths at first. then deeper. then steadier.

"i didn’t want to ruin your night", you whispered eventually, voice breaking under the weight of it.

"you didn't ruin anything" he said. "you’re not a problem. you’re not a burden. you’re a human being. call me, even when you think i won’t pick up."

your eyes blurred again.

he didn’t fill the silence after that. He just stayed on the line, breathing with you. quiet, solid, present.

and when you finally started to fall asleep, phone still clutched in your good hand, he was still there, not saying anything, but not leaving either.

he picked up every time after that.

even when you didn’t say anything at all.

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he sent merch to your apartment with a note that just said,

"so you stop stealing my jacket."

you wore the hoodie on a grocery run and someone recognized it.

later, you found a fan instagram with a blurry photo.

wrestlingnews posted a story

written: pretty sure cody’s mystery girl just picked up oat milk in la

you sent him the link.

you: do i need a disguise now

cody: yes

cody: but don’t cover your face. i like that part.

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

you didn’t talk every day. but it always picked up like you had.

the thread between you never went slack. it stretched across time zones, bruises, cities, and nights when you couldn’t sleep. it wove itself into your days, a comfort, a maybe, a presence that felt less and less like a crush and more like gravity.

somewhere between month three and four, you realised:

you were in something.

you just didn’t know if you were in it alone.

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

the arena in austin buzzed like a living thing, loud even from the back halls, the walls humming with the low rumble of fans, the thud of music, the electric air of something about to happen.

you held your pass tight in your palm, your other hand clenched around the handle of your bag like it might float away if you let go. you hadn’t told him you were coming. not when you booked the flight. not when your friend from production pulled a string for a backstage pass. not even when you landed that morning and felt your nerves crawl all the way to your throat.

you didn’t want to make it a big thing.

you just wanted to see him.

you waited until after his match, until the shouting gave way to music, then to static, then to nothing but footsteps and radio calls. you stood tucked into a hallway near the locker rooms, trying to stay out of sight, your heart beating like it was trying to outrun you.

then you saw him.

hair damp, gear still on, his jacket slung over one shoulder. He was talking to someone, laughing a little, but distracted, like his brain was already somewhere else. maybe already on the flight out. maybe already out of reach.

you almost turned around.

but then he looked up.

and everything stopped.

he blinked like he wasn’t sure he was really seeing you, like his brain was taking a second to catch up to his eyes.

"you’re", he started, his voice catching. "you’re here?"

you nodded. "i figured i owed you a surprise."

for a moment, he didn’t move.

then he was in front of you, fast, like something finally snapped loose and his arms were around you, tight and warm and solid, lifting you slightly off the ground like he couldn’t help it.

you laughed into his neck. "you’re sweaty."

"you’re real", he murmured. "that’s more important."

he set you down gently, but didn’t let go.

"tell me you’re not just passing through", he said, breath still shallow. "tell me i don’t have to watch you walk away in fifteen minutes."

you shook your head, smiling. "couple days. i figured we deserved something."

his hand cupped your cheek before you could say anything else. thumb brushing your skin, eyes searching yours like he was waiting for you to change your mind.

you didn’t.

you leaned in first.

the kiss wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t fireworks or perfect timing or anything that would look good on a big screen.

it was slow.

honest.

like something built, not rushed.

when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

"so..." you said softly, "does this mean we’re official now?"

he smiled, wide and a little dazed. "we were official the second i saw you in that hallway."

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

americannightmarecody

liked by samizayn, juceyucey, y/ninsta and 729,384 others

tagged: y/ninsta

americannightmarecody: you never fail to amaze me

view all 23,485 comments

y/ninsta: i love you so much

americannightmarecody: that's my girl

user5: she’s so soft and comfy coded I’m gonna cry

user6: chronic illness girlies winning again

user7: she looks like she makes playlists and remembers everyone's drink order

user8: i’m obsessed. i’m emotionally attached. i’m in this relationship too now, thanks.

#wwe #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe smackdown #wwe fanfiction #wwe raw #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes fluff

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onlyangel4 · 13 days ago

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lance stroll poll

so i want to write a lance stroll smau. this is a requested concept of him dating a nepo baby model. my ideas for parents are below.

cindy crawford + rande gerber = y/n gerber (fc: kaia gerber)

victoria beckham + david beckham = y/n beckham (fc: stella maxwell)

gwenyth paltrow + chris martin = y/n marin (fc: diana silvers)

lisa bonet + lenny kravitz = y/n kravitz (zoe kravitz)

tom cruise + nicole kidman = y/n cruise (fc: maartje verhoef)

madonna + guy ritchie = y/n ritchie (fc: devon lee carlson)

jennifer lopez + ben affleck = y/n affleck (fc: camilla morrone)

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 smau #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #formula one smau #formula 1 #formula one #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll #lando x you #lance stroll x you #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll fanfic #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll smau #lance stroll social media au

21 notes · View notes

onlyangel4 · 13 days ago

Text

early packing for holiday. watching the main event of wrestlemania 40. this is girlhood.

#wwe #cody rhodes #angel yaps

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onlyangel4 · 14 days ago

Text

held. cody rhodes. part one.

cody rhodes x chronically ill!reader

faceclaim: dakota johnson

part two

y/ninsta posted a story

written: yoga to prepare for a very busy weekend. coming 4 u vegas

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

you should have said no.

when your friends suggested wrestlemania weekend, it sounded perfect, something fun, something loud, something distracting. and for the first day and first few hours of day two, it was. the energy was electric, the crowd roaring with every entrance, every finisher. you screamed until your throat burned and clapped until your hands ached.

but by the time the main event hit, the ache had crept deep into your bones. Your back stiffened with every cheer. your legs pulsed with the kind of exhaustion that went far beyond tired, it was the kind of fatigue that stole your breath and tightened your chest. you stood as long as you could, until your knees started to tremble and your hip sent a warning jolt down your side.

you sat, smiling for the photos. you laughed when they did, even though your brain was already fogging up, like your body was buffering just trying to stay upright.

they didn’t notice.

you didn’t blame them. you’d gotten good at hiding it, the constant, gnawing pain, the bone-deep exhaustion. you hadn’t told them about your ehlers-danlos flaring up. or the chronic fatigue. or how you’d spent the entire week prepping your body for this one night, knowing you’d pay for it later.

now, "later" was creeping in faster than you expected.

"bar after this?" someone shouted over the crowd.

you forced a smile. "sure."

you should have said no.

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

y/ninsta posted a story

written: first ever wrestling show was a good one

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

the bar was loud the second you stepped inside.

a pulsing bass beat vibrated through the floors, and flashes of neon pink and blue lit up every reflective surface. your friends flooded in ahead of you, laughing like the night had only just begun. someone shouted something about shots and was already halfway to the bar before you could respond.

you followed slowly. each step pulled at the soft tissue in your knees, your hips, your ankles. everything felt loose. unstable. like one wrong move would unravel the whole system your body was barely holding together.

you leaned against the wall near the entrance, pretending to scroll through your phone while the group shouted drink orders back and forth. your legs were already begging you to sit, but every stool near the bar was taken. and even if you found a seat, you’d have to get back up again later and you weren’t sure you could.

"i think we’re hitting lucky’s next" one of your friends said, tossing her hair back, already halfway out of her first cocktail. "then that place with the rooftop."

someone else groaned playfully. "bar crawl time, baby!"

you swallowed hard. another bar? another place to walk to? another wave of bright lights, loud music, and unfamiliar floors? you were barely holding it together here.

you opened your mouth to say something, to maybe suggest they slow down, or that you’d catch up later but no one was looking at you. they were already on the move, drinks in hand, sliding through the crowd toward the exit like a school of fish.

you blinked.

had they just left?

you turned toward the door, trying to spot someone, anyone you recognised. but they were gone. just like that. no text. no glance back. no "hey, are you coming?"

your stomach dropped.

you weren’t drunk. you weren’t even tipsy. but your body was swaying with exhaustion like you’d downed six shots already. you gripped the edge of a tall bar table, trying to catch your breath. the pain in your knee was sharp now. your back throbbed. your shoulder felt like it might pop out of place if you shifted wrong.

you wanted to sit. you needed to sit.

but you were alone.

and standing still in a crowd of moving people made you feel like a ghost.

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

y/friend posted a story

written: bar crawl in vegas baby

y/ninsta replied to this story: did you guys really just leave without checking i was with you

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

you spotted a gap near the end of the bar, a low, unoccupied stool.

it looked like salvation.

you took a shaky step forward, then another. the crowd shifted, and someone bumped your shoulder hard enough to send a lightning bolt of pain down your back. you gasped but kept moving, jaw clenched tight.

you were so close.

one more step.

and then your knee gave out.

there was no warning. no dramatic music. just a sickening shift in your joint, and the floor suddenly rising to meet you.

your body collapsed sideways, hands slapping hard against the sticky floor. pain flared up your arm, your wrist took most of the impact and a startled sound tore from your throat, too quiet to cut through the music.

a few people noticed. a couple stepped aside. one guy laughed like he thought you were just drunk.

no one helped.

you stayed down, stunned, trembling, humiliated. your wrist throbbed and your knee pulsed with that deep, familiar ache, the one that told you something had slipped out of place again. and all around you, the bar kept moving, oblivious.

you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or disappear.

"hey."

you looked up, vision slightly blurred, and saw someone crouch beside you.

he didn’t shout. he didn’t ask if you were drunk. he just looked concerned, calm, steady.

"are you okay?"

you blinked, your breath catching.

cody rhodes.

it didn’t feel real, but there he was, close enough to touch, close enough to see you. not the version of you your friends joked with. not the one that smiled through photos. you.

"i think I dislocated something", you managed, voice low. "my knee. i have a condition, it just happens sometimes."

he nodded once. no shock, no pity. just acceptance.

"alright. can i help you sit up?"

you hesitated.

he waited.

carefully, with his support, you eased into a sitting position against the wall. He took off his jacket, some kind of soft designer black fabric that still smelled like cologne and pyrotechnics, and draped it around your shoulders like it was nothing.

"better?"

you nodded, even though everything still hurt.

"do you want me to call someone?" he asked gently.

you hesitated again. "they left."

"your friends?"

you looked away. "yeah. i guess i wasn’t moving fast enough."

something darkened in his expression, not anger, exactly. something quieter. like he’d seen this before.

"you want to get out of here?" he asked. "go somewhere quieter?"

you blinked again. "you don’t have to"

"i know", he said. "but i want to."

he didn’t offer his hand right away. he waited until you nodded, until you said yes.

when you did, his grip was firm and careful, not tugging, not pulling. just steady.

you weren’t sure why this stranger, this star, this man, had stopped for you. but as you leaned into him, letting your weight rest partially on his arm, you felt something you hadn’t felt all night.

seen.

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

you sat together in a small alcove behind the bar, a place meant for smoking breaks or staff phone calls. no one else was there. the thump of music was muffled behind the door, distant now, like the rest of the night had peeled away and left just this.

cody sat next to you, elbows resting on his knees, watching the empty sidewalk in front of you both. he didn’t speak at first, and you were grateful for the silence.

the pain was still there. your knee was screaming with every twitch, your wrist throbbed in your lap. but for the first time in hours, you weren’t bracing against the world.

you were just still.

"i looked it up just now", he said eventually, glancing down at his phone. "ehlers-danlos, right?"

you nodded, surprised. most people didn’t remember the name. or they pretended to, and butchered it later.

he continued, quiet. "didn’t realize it could do all that"

"it does more than people think", you said, voice dry. "joints dislocate. nerves go weird. pain gets constant. and the fatigue’s like… walking through water with bricks tied to your ribs."

"damn", he said softly. "that’s brutal."

you shrugged, careful not to jolt your shoulder. "i try not to talk about it much. most people just say i look fine."

he looked at you then, really looked.

"that’s because they’re not paying attention."

the words landed like a warm blanket. no pity. no condescension. just a truth you’d almost forgotten how to believe.

"you didn’t have to stop", you murmured after a moment. "most people wouldn’t have."

"i saw you fall."

"that’s usually when people walk away faster."

"i didn’t want to be most people", he said simply. "and i’ve had people i care about go through chronic stuff. it’s not invisible if you’re actually looking."

you blinked hard. the urge to cry, not from pain, but from being understood, hit you like a wave. you looked down instead, focusing on your bruised hands.

he didn’t ask more. he just sat with you.

and for ten quiet minutes, you weren’t performing. you weren’t apologizing for taking up space. you weren’t the friend who fell behind, or the girl who ruined the night.

you were just you.

and he stayed.

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

you tried to insist you could walk.

really, you did.

but about half a block from the bar, your body gave its final warning: your knee locked up completely, and your hip flared with that white-hot burn you knew meant a joint had shifted just enough to be a problem.

you winced, slowing to a stop. "okay", you muttered. "so, maybe i can’t walk."

cody glanced over, his expression unreadable. "alright", he said. "new plan."

"what’s the-hey!"

he’d already crouched down and hooked one arm gently behind your knees, the other behind your back. before you could protest, he lifted you clean off the sidewalk.

"oh my god, you are not"

"too late", he grinned. "i am."

your instinct was to squirm, to argue, to say you were fine. but instead, you blinked against the cold night air and realized it didn’t feel like weakness.

it felt kind of like flying.

"am i heavy?" you asked, half-joking, half-insecure.

he snorted. "you’re lighter than my entrance gear."

you laughed, a real, unguarded laugh that startled even you. "that’s a terrible metric."

"i stand by it."

and then, as he crossed a quiet city block with you in his arms like it was nothing, you saw it, a group of fans standing outside a late-night pizza place. someone gasped. another scrambled for their phone.

you tensed automatically. "oh no."

"it’s fine", he said, not breaking stride. "smile if you want. or don’t."

you didn’t smile. but you didn’t hide either. you just watched the camera flashes flicker for a moment and let yourself exist in it, in this strange, surreal moment where pain and embarrassment were replaced by something softer. lighter.

weightless.

by the time he reached your hotel, you were shivering a little, still wrapped in his jacket, heart beating far too fast for someone who wasn’t even walking.

he set you down gently just inside the lobby, one hand steadying your waist like he was still anchoring you to the earth.

"room number?" he asked softly.

you gave it, half-dazed.

"okay. i’m walking you to the elevator. no arguments."

you nodded. didn’t argue.

as the elevator doors slid open, you turned to him.

"thank you", you said, barely above a whisper.

he tilted his head. "for what?"

"for stopping. for staying. for not making it weird."

he smiled then, small, warm, real. "you didn’t make it weird. you made it worth it."

and just like that, the doors closed, and you were alone again.

but it felt different this time.