The Reader comes home after a bad date, only to find Total Divas filming in the living room. She avoids the cameras but bumps into Sheamus. He listens to her and flips her evening in a 180-degree turn.
Pairing: Sheamus x Reader (Y/N), Cousin!Dean Ambrose (not part of Family Found series)
Warnings/Promises: language, talk of sex, talk of a bad date, Tinder frustrations, ANGST, FLUFF
Word Count: 1450
Note: Written in half an hour at midnight. Fever fluff at its best. Tag lists and requests open, though I have to warn you it’s taking me a while to get into writing them. Sorry. Enjoy!
Sometimes living with Dean was a good thing. You had a place to crash while you looked for your own apartment, and Renee was like a sister to you. And it usually meant that you had two pairs of ears to vent your frustrations to. Unfortunately, it also meant that sometimes you couldn’t control the visitors.
The chorus of giggles made your skin crawl as you entered the house. At the first sight of a camera, you veered away down the empty hallway. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this. Red-faced. Puffy eyes. Nor did you want to snap at somebody who didn’t deserve it. That didn’t save you from not bumping into anybody, though.
Sheamus puffed as you bounced off his chest. He caught your arms before you could fall over. “Y/N? I thought you weren’t coming back for a while-“
“Yeah, well, plans changed.” You grit your teeth. “Not that I’m not surprised, but I had hoped… never mind.” With a huff, you tried to move around him. He caught your arms again.
He spoke quietly. “Hey. What happened?”
You clenched and unclenched your fists. “I don’t want to dump this on you.”
He chuckled. “I’m all ears. Come on.” He led you to the small office down the hall, guiding you to sit on the lounge couch and sitting on the other end. “Spill.”
“Is there something about me that just screams ‘down to fuck?’” Frustrated, you clawed your hands into your hair. “He was so… he actually… this guy, I’ve been talking to him for two weeks. He was sweet. Asked me questions. Let me talk for fifty percent of the time instead of eighty-twenty. He actually listened, too. So, we finally met up. I guess we talked for two weeks because that’s how long it took to schedule it. Not halfway through dinner, he’s sliding his hand up my skirt. I should have slapped him. Screamed at him.”
Sheamus was already frowning. “What did you do?”
You fell back into the pillows. “I didn’t know what to do. I pushed his hand off. Scooted my chair further away. Thought about paying my own way, but he grabbed the checkbook before I could say anything.”
“Did he put his hands on you again?”
“No. I didn’t let him get that far.” The rage that had motored you home like a steam engine ran out of fuel. The doubt crept in to fill the void. “Am I that flirty? I actively try to not give off that vibe. I don’t want a one-night stand. I want a relationship. Then, before I was even out of the parking lot, he sent me a text saying ‘I had a great time. Do I get a second date?’ No, you moron! No, you don’t!”
While you toed off your shoes, Sheamus waited patiently for you to say more or ask him anything.
“Two weeks,” you continued. “Two weeks of ‘thinking of you’ and ‘I can’t wait for our date’ and then… I read back through everything while I was sitting in the driveway. There were so many red flags. Asking me if I was ‘romantic.’ I am romantic. Give me poetry. Give me you. Just… keep it in your pants.” You looked up at him. “Is that too much to ask?”
He shook his head. “No. He shouldn’t have led you on like that.” When your throat started to constrict around tears you didn’t want to spill, he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.
You dug your nails into the tops of your thighs. “I am a woman fully capable of complex thought. Of ambition and emotion. I am not just the organ between my legs!” you finished with a choked breath. “I am more.” You caught your breath. “I don’t believe anything good has ever come out of that app.” Your cheeks flushed as you realized you’d probably said too much.
“What app?”
Sheepishly, you looked up at Sheamus. “Tinder.”
He growled. “Agreed. Nothing good has come from that app. How long have you been using it?”
“A month. Maybe two.”
“I could have asked you out two months ago?” He ran his hand through his beard and leaned forward onto his knees.
“Wait, what?”
Now it was Sheamus’s turn to look sheepish. “I, uh, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while. Then you started smiling at your phone, and I thought I’d lost you. But I’m not going to do it like this. Not when you’ve… not after all this.”
There was a silent pause.
“But… you would date me?”
The next pause made your heart beat fast enough you feared it would fly out of your chest.
“Yeah. I mean… if you wanted to date me. It takes two, ya know.” On his knees, his fingers nervously twiddled. “Y/N? Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you-“
“I’m okay.” You laughed. “My emotions are just flipping a hundred and eighty degrees. It’s taking a second for my brain to catch up.” You took a shallow breath. Then a deeper one. “So, are you asking me out?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes. Um, I’d ask you for your number, but-“
“You’ve already got it.”
“Yeah. So. Do I have your permission to court you?”
You giggled. “Yes, Sheamus. You may court me.” You stood to head back out into the fray, which sounded like it was wrapping up. But you hesitated at the door with a stupid wide grin on your face that threatened to fall. He took your hand and guided you into an embrace. You melted into it, feeling all your tension easing out of your body. “We’re just getting started, and you’re already doing magic to me.”
“Wait till you’ve known a bit longer. It get’s better.”
Fear twisted in your gut.
“Sheamus… I’m not… I can’t-“
“I don’t mean sex, Y/N.” He tipped your head up to look at him. “I’ve got a world of magic I can use. And It’s going to take a while. As long as you need.”
It was another several minutes before you actually made it into the living room. The hug felt too good. The camera crew was just finishing packing up, and Nia motioned for you to take the empty spot beside her. Sheamus snagged it first. He pulled you into his lap and wrapped an arm around your waist. Nia’s brow arched.
“So… how long has this been a thing?”
You blushed. Avoiding eye contact with her and everyone in the room, you muttered to Sheamus, “we aren’t being very subtle, are we?”
Nia pursed her lips in front of a grin. “Answer the question, little girl.”
You both laughed nervously. “I don’t know. Um… what time did I get here?”
Natalya tapped her fingertips together in a tiny applause. “You guys are already so cute. What did Dean say when you told him?”
“When you told me what?” Dean sauntered into the room with Renee right behind him. He fell back to lean on the wall, taking Renee with him and squeezing her against his chest.
With a tiny voice, you spilled. “That I’m dating Sheamus.”
Renee’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful! I totally approve.”
“What happens if I don’t approve?” Dean’s poker face always scared you.
You pulled Sheamus’s arm tighter around your waist. “That would be awkward. Will you kick me out after I tell you you’ll have to get over it?”
There was a pregnant pause. It broke as Dean laughed. “No. I’ll kick his teeth in if he breaks your heart. But he knows that already. He asked me three weeks ago.” Dean snorted. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him so nervous.”
Sheamus tensed under you and avoided your gaze, only to bump into Nia’s. “Yeah, so I asked him a few weeks ago if it was okay if I asked Y/N out. Figured it was a good way to start.” He tugged you to sit more at an angle where he could see your face. “It took me a week to work up enough courage to ask, but then I saw you smiling at your phone and stuff. I thought I lost you.” He shrugged. “Didn’t know if I had stepped up I could have saved you a bit sooner.”
You leaned over and laced your arms around his shoulders. “But you saved me. When doesn’t really matter. Just that you did.”
Dean gagged. “Please keep the sap off my couch. Nia, please separate them.”
She and everybody else in the room yelled, “no!”
Who needed an episode of Total Divas when they had you and Sheamus to watch?
Sooooo…. I just found out today (but the info has been out since July [?]) that TLC has been moved to December where Clash of Champions would usually be. I didn’t know (if I was in creative I would have known, lol) so…
TLC is going to happen in my series as planned.
Please don’t be confused when October has an extra PPV and this year still has Clash of Champions in December.
Note: Sorry this took so long. I hope you like it though! Requests and tag lists open. And also just my general asks if you’d like to come and talk for a bit. Enjoy!
Average was not in your vocabulary. While a non-wrestling person might see you on the street and think nothing of you, if they saw you in the ring they would be amazed. Your unassuming form hid years of skill and a creative mind for winning matches against any opponent.
Well, almost any.
The roar always made you shiver. Baron Corbin laughed at you and your match partner, Finn Balor, as Braun Strowman made his way down the ramp. In the lone wolf’s mind, this was going to be an easy fight. Finn quickly changed that. They took up most of the ring time, having the front feud between the four of you. Braun’s argument with you was coming to Finn’s aid during their match, which was then interrupted by Baron. Wrestling was logical if you looked close enough, though in this particular instance you would have liked a more distanced view.
Finn tagged you in, crumpling and rolling under the ropes. You jumped in and came face-to-chest with Braun. For a terrifying split second, you shifted your gaze from the torso in front of you to the grinning face leering above you.
No time like the present.
With a deep breath, you jumped high and slapped him. Braun staggered in shock. You held your breath while your brain fumbled to come up with a plan. Nothing was forthcoming, and Braun was now akin to a pissed off grizzly bear. So, you ran. You ran to the ropes and bounced off, sliding as if to home base to the back of Braun’s knees. He buckled, making the match a bit more even. You held onto that upper hand for dear life. It was snatched from your grasp as he wrapped his large hand around your throat.
No, don’t be that guy. Don’t you do it. Do not get a boner- fuck.
Braun tossed you into the far corner. Finn tagged in, giving you the opportunity to get out and stand against the ring post. Hopefully, everybody was watching their favorite Irishman instead of you adjusting yourself. Even then, your mind and eyes wandered. Usually, when you focused on how Braun’s muscles moved, you were worried about him using them against you. Now that didn’t sound like a bad thing.
The match ended with Baron tagging himself in, ignoring Braun’s growl, and promptly getting himself pinned within a few moves. And you thought that was the end of… all that.
Later in the night though, you heard his gruff voice behind you. “Hey, Y/N?”
You took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Hey. What’s up?”
At first, he wouldn’t meet your eye. “My ride tonight had to cancel on me. Would you mind if I ride with you?”
“Not at all.” You tried to take his bag to load it up, but it fell to the ground and almost took you with it. Braun chuckled and stuck it in the back of your car himself. “Thanks.”
It was a few hours to the next town. You passed the time talking, getting to know each other more. He was actually kind of funny. Your sides hurt from the arena to the drive through to the hotel. Most of the jokes were cheesy or Becky-worthy puns, but they kept you awake and engaged for the drive. Mission accomplished. Your good mood vanished at the front desk.
Only one more room. Figures. And no cots either.
“At least it’s a king,” you said, jumping when Braun’s bag hit the floor with a thud. “So at least you’ll be comfortable.” You set to pushing the two chairs to either end of the coffee table. Braun snagged the collar of your shirt and pulled you back.
“What’re you doing? I’m not hitchin’ a ride and kickin’ you out of the last bed in the same night.” He let you go and went to finding stuff in his bag. “There’s plenty of room. I won’t bite.”
“Maybe I want you to,” you muttered under your breath with a grin.
“What?”
“Huh?”
Braun looked over at you while the tops of your ears burned. He watched you swallow the dryness in your mouth, mirroring the movement. “What did you say?”
You could fix this. “Nothing,” you chirped with a smile too big. “Do you mind if I grab first shower?” He didn’t, having showered at the arena. By the time you got out, he had changed and was sitting on the bed watching tv in his sweatpants and shirtless, similar attire to what you were wearing. It took several moments of staring at his chest before you could breathe or take further steps into the room. You kept your eyes on the floor as you walked to your side of the bed.
“I don’t mind if you look.” His voice sounded smaller than what should have been possible for his frame.
“What?”
“I don’t mind if you look. Do you mind if I look?” His eyes wavered over your face, then flicked quickly over the rest of you.
Keep it together, Y/N. You wrestle in shorts. It’s not like he hasn’t seen almost all of you.
“Y/N?” Braun cocked his head.
“Oh. Yeah. I… I don’t mind.” You sat on top of the sheets. “I’m not much to look at, but you’re welcome to it, I guess.”
His forehead scrunched. “What do you mean? You’re one of the best lookin’ guys on the roster. I thought… nevermind.” He grumbled something under his breath and started flipping through his phone.
Against your better judgment, your mind whirled around what he’d said. “You think I’m good looking?”
“Yeah. Abs better than Balor’s, great laugh,” his voice dropped off, “those tiny trunks.”
Are we doing this? Okay, let’s do this.
“Do… do you want to do more than just look?” You swallowed hard. Things were about to get incredibly interesting, or horribly awkward.
Braun froze. His chest heaved as he put his phone to one side. “If I did… would you want to do more than just look?”
You swallowed hard again. “Yes.” His hand reached out for yours. In his palm, your fingers barely reached to his middle knuckles. Your breath was reduced to short puffs as he pulled you closer to cup your face. His hand slid down so his thumb could graze over your throat. “I take it you noticed,” you whispered, referencing what happened in the ring.
“Yeah.” He continued to stroke up and down while his gaze remained fixated on your lips.
Moving more boldly than you felt, you grabbed onto his wrist and bicep and leaned back until he was leaning over you. He kept coming, stopping only when your noses were millimeters apart. Your lips met. Slow. Exploring. Testing to see what made the other sigh or buck their hips. Braun sank closer, tilting his head to your neck to find more places that made you writhe. Not that there was much room to; Braun had you completely pinned to the bed and you could barely move to gasp.
“This is a bad idea.” He backed off from leaning over you, making you sputter and grab at his arm.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
That made you laugh. “You throw me around the ring on the regular.” When he didn’t smile, you dropped your grin. “If there’s other issues or this is too soon, we can stop. But if you want this, don’t stop just because I’m smaller than you. I can take whatever you want to give.”
“I know, but that’s in the ring. I don’t want to do… to feel here what we could feel in the ring. Not right now. Not tonight.”
The more he talked about it, the more you had to agree. “Okay. Then slow. But I have to warn you, if you get all slow and sensual with me, that’s only going to make me harder.”
Braun chuckled and moved to as before. “And that’s supposed to… what? Keep me from doing just that?” He thumbed over your lips. “If I want to take my time with you, I’m gunna. Make you feel everything.
Then he was gone. He was removing his sweats, so you did too.
Fuck. Proportionate was a terrible description, but it was the only thing your short-circuiting brain could come up with.
He noticed you watching him and gave his length a few strokes. He left to fish around in his bag and found the bottle of lube. You laid down against the pillows as he joined you on the bed. His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, then sank to your bottom lip. “Bet these would look good around my cock.”
It was suddenly hard to breathe.
“Maybe later,” he rumbled.
You kept your attention on his face, watching as he focused on preparing his fingers to prepare you. Like he promised, it was slow. One finger to work you open. Then two. Then three. By then you were panting and near-blissed out of your mind. All the while his other hand had kneed and massaged your body, easing out the kinks from the match and helping you to relax. His forehead rested against yours.
“Braun, please-“
“Shh. Almost there.” He scissored his fingers in you for a little bit longer, then shifted to kneel between your legs. “Ready?”
“Yes. Braun, please!” Your shout rasped as he began to work into you. Stretching you and filling you. You tried to match his thrusts but found that impossible as he folded you further back. Around the edges, your vision blurred; his face stayed perfectly clear. Eyes fighting not to close, mouth gaping and gasping. Further down his body was shiny with sweat. Sweat that you had caused. The thought made your body stutter.
“Y/N,” he moaned. He reached down and gripped you, twisting his wrist in ways that made you cry out high and needy. The border-line teasing way he played with your head is what sent you over. You spilled onto your chest and he soon spilled into you.
When he had eased out, you suddenly realized how jello-like your legs felt. They wouldn’t move. And the tips of your fingertips were numb too. Relaying this to Braun made him chuckle. He stumbled to his feet and came back to clean you up.
“We might have to give that lady at the reception desk a huge tip,” he said with a grin.
You hummed in agreement. “Chocolate or flowers?”
“Depending on how repeating this in the morning goes, I’d say both.” He pulled you to lay on his chest and rubbed over your back. “If that’s okay. It might look a little weird.”
“I am so past looking like anything right now.” You yawned and slipped into sleep.
In Australia, the Shield fights for their right to branch out, and Finn makes Kevin pay for his interference earlier in the week. On Monday, Y/N worries about the attendance of Stephanie McMahon and if her new role is already at an end.
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence
Word Count: 3585
Note: I looked over “Long Time No See” and had to laugh. There were only four plot points to hit in that chapter. This one has nine, but a bunch of detail points. And it was barely over 1000 words. I am so sorry, babes. This has gotten so exciting and complicated and I hope it is keeping you entertained. Please let me know if it is. The tag list is open, and so are my requests. Enjoy!
Super Show-Down – October 6, 2018 – Melbourne, Australia
Australia’s pay-per-view was defined by its vengeance matches. From AJ Style’s bitter match against Samoa Joe, to the Undertaker versus Triple H for the ‘last time’, the fights were for more than the usual glory. There was more at stake. Honor. Legacy. And revenge.
The Shield’s match fell into this third category.
While the aesthetics of their styles didn’t match, the rage-set faces as the Shield entered were the same. Jinder Mahal towered over his teammates, Konnor and Viktor of the Ascension. They lined up across the ring to stand a mere half-meter away from Roman, Dean, and Seth. The referee desperately kept himself between them, impatiently waiting for the bell.
Jinder stayed in the ring. Since he was due to fight Seth on Monday, Roman and Dean kept their brother out of the ring and Roman stepped up. The following bout was similar to their previous collisions, but Roman had more to achieve this time. The more he did to Jinder tonight, the less his brother had to deal within a few days. Jinder eventually escaped this and tagged in Konnor.
Then it was Dean’s turn to step up. He met the man muscle for muscle and growl for growl. He got trapped in their corner where the Ascention took turns tagging in each other and attacking Dean until he was a huddled mass in the corner. Viktor pulled him to his feet and was going to do more, but Dean shoved him to the center of the ring and took the upper hand. It was a terrible mirroring of actions as then the whole Shield took turns stomping and breaking Viktor down.
The exchanges and tag continued, bringing the match to the inevitable. Seth had to face Jinder with more than that night on the line. They gave the crowd a preview of their match a few days away, minus the no disqualification stipulation. A stipulation Seth was more than ready for, but nearly cost him the match. Jinder laughed. He was more than happy to be a punching bag in Australia if Seth was going to exhaust himself.
In the end, it didn’t come down to them. Dean tagged himself in and Jinder tagged in Konnor. The Lunatic Fringe jumped from their corner onto his opponent’s entrance into the ring and quickly brought the match to a close.
***
When Finn Balor’s music hit, Kevin Owens began to doubt himself. Maybe he should have let Mojo Rawley win, or at least do more against Finn himself. Then he could have challenged a weakened version of either instead of heading into what was sure to be a torturous affair. The title wasn’t even on the line. It was a payback match.
He wasn’t far off. Finn was determined to make Kevin pay for interfering. He wasn’t mad on behalf of Mojo’s chance; he was more pissed off of receiving an easy win due to Kevin’s meddling. With a roar, he made the first attack. Kevin could barely turn around in the ring without getting hit or sling bladed or drop kicked. And if he did catch Finn, a uranage quickly had him rolling for the ropes.
On the floor, Kevin caught his breath. Then he caught Finn’s boot before it could collide with his face. Out of muscle memory, he swept Finn’s legs out from under him and sent him crashing onto the apron, and then to the floor. He stared down in shock. Then grabbed Finn around the neck and tossed him into the ring. He couldn’t pause. Wouldn’t stop moving. If keeping Finn off his feet was his only plan, Kevin was going to do that with everything he had.
Two. Two and a half. Two and three-quarters. Kevin’s actions were wearing down the Universal champion. For a second, he considered what it would mean if he won the match.
A mistake.
Fin took the split of Kevin’s focus and won back the upper hand. A few minutes later, Kevin was pinned for the count and then glaring at him from the floor. Finn just held his title high and grinned.
***
***
Monday Night Raw – October 8, 2018 – Rosemont, IL
At the beginning of the show, Dean bumped into you struggling to tape your hands. You had found a punching bag that the roster sometimes used to get pumped up. At the moment, you wanted to use it to evade the fear crouching up.
“Need some help?” he asked. Without really waiting for an answer, he took your hand and the tape and started to wrap it properly. Occasionally he glanced up at your face. You were looking to one side of his actions. “What’s on your mind?”
“So many things,” you whispered.
Dean dropped your hand and tapped your shoulder for the other one. “Spill. You can’t hit anything yet, so you might as well tell me.”
“Stephanie’s here tonight,” you let slip. He grunted, not surprised. “When she called last week, I thought she was going to fire me. Now I’m afraid she’s going to do it in person. And maybe in front of the whole WWE Universe.”
Dropping your other hand, Dean moved to stand behind the punching bag. “Keep going.”
You weakly punched the bag. “I know I said I didn’t want this job,” you paused to hit the bag again, “but now that I’m in it… I like it.” While you let your thoughts flow out, you alternated left and right punches, punctuated with the occasional kick. “Making the matches. Wondering how the titles are going to change hands. The uncertainty doesn’t frighten me as much as I thought it would. I like the ‘what if.’” You stopped and leaned against the wall. “Is that weird? To change my mind like that?”
“Nope. Come on, keep working on your combinations.”
With a sigh that barely hid a smirk, you turned back to the bag. “But now Stephanie is here and she’s going to take that away. Or at least I think she is.”
Dean nodded. “That’s how she works. Make’s you think the worst, then drops something totally different on you. I may not like her methods, but she’s not stupid. She knows who’s actually running Raw.”
Panting, you stopped. “I hope you’re right.” With a smile, you looked down at your hands. “Thanks for taping me up.”
“Anytime, Ladybug. Anytime.”
***
Kevin had taken over the ring. He was smugly looking over the crowd, mic at his side, planning his next words carefully. The crowd stopped booing him just enough to hear what he had to say.
“I almost beat Finn Balor in Australia. You can’t deny it. Finn can’t deny it. Those last counts I had over him were milliseconds away from finished. If the ref had done his job and counted at the right speed, I would probably be number one contender for the Universal right now.” The crowd restarted their disagreement. He talked over them. “But, I’m going to overlook that. Finn Balor has shown himself to be a… fair wrestler. Even if he gives way to demonic possession to ensure a win, he knows talent when he sees it.”
The stage was taken over by black and silver light. Finn walked out and cocked his head at Kevin. “You’re right, I know talent when I see it. But what I don’t see, is why you’re out here, Kevin. We’ve had our match. And I beat you.”
“Just barely. By milliseconds.”
“But I still beat you,” Finn smirked.
Kevin sputtered. “I get it. You’re still tired from our match. I’m no spring daisy either, but we are not done. Think about it, Finn. TLC is just a few weeks away. You want to give the WWE Universe what it wants. You want to impress them, make them happy. I may not agree why you even bother, but I think we could put on the match that could have happened two years ago if you had been able to stay after Summer Slam.”
Finn licked his lips, intrigued. “You think we still would have collided at TLC… in 2016?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Kevin knew he had him.
“And you think you could have beaten the Demon back then and won the Universal Champion. You’ve used this argument before, Kevin. But,” he rubbed at his chin, “I have to admit you’ve framed it in a new way. I kinda want to see it. The only problem is… I originally planned to have that rematch with Mojo tonight.”
He would have said more, but Mojo rushed out within a few seconds of his music playing. “No. No. Kevin, stay out of this. You’ve had your chance. Lost it. Now move over. It’s my game now. Finn, we had a bargain.” He moved forward and grabbed Finn by the lapels of his jacket.
Out of breath from running from the back of the arena, you rushed out onto the stage to separate them. “Wait, wait, wait.” The two men backed away; Finn frowned at your taped hand on his chest. You quickly removed it and thought quick. “How about this: tonight, Mojo you face Kevin Owens in a number one contender’s match. If you win, you face Finn for that rematch next week. If you lose, you have to wait until TLC to try for the title. And it’ll be a true TLC match with tables, ladders, and chairs. Mr. Owens, that works for you too. A title shot next week, or at TLC like you were asking. The only downside to this is either way, Finn, you would be defending your title just a few days apart.”
Finn chuckled. “I’m a fightin’ champion. It’s part of the business.”
“Okay then.” You let out the breath you’d been holding. “So, it’s settled? Let me call a ref.”
***
A commercial break later, Mojo and Kevin were duking it out. Either way, they were going to win an opportunity. At first, you were afraid that it would be short because all Mojo had to do to get what he wanted was win. And Kevin had to lose to go to TLC. But as the match progressed, you figured out that Mojo could be patient for one more week if it meant a pay-per-view match. It was something he had not had in a while.
It was a strange, calculated match. Had you had more time to think, maybe the person who won tonight should have gone to TLC. It was too late for that. As a result, Kevin had plenty of time to recover when Mojo pushed his limits already strained by Saturday. Mojo could plan how he was going to hit Kevin next and hit him hard.
Mojo ran out of patience. He wanted the title now, so he upped his attack. Kevin did try to make it out of the pins a few times, but the last one came after a Hyperdrive. He could barely breathe, much less kick out.
Finn nodded backstage while watching Mojo’s hand be raised. He’d be ready for him next week.
***
In compliance with Natalya’s championship tournament schedule, the third match for the fatal four-way spot was between Bayley and Alicia Fox. They were cordial to each other, even bumping each other’s fists before really getting into the match.
Bayley had been toughened by the last several months. She used that to quickly rush Alicia into the ropes. But she had not lost herself, so she backed off before the ref made it too far into the count.
Hesitantly, Alicia detangled herself and stepped back towards the center of the ring. She met Bayley in a lock of strength, overpowering her.
It was back and forth for most of the match. One would gain the upper hand, then would lose control. Alicia’s northern light suplexes matched flip for flip with Bayley to bellies. In the end, Bayley had worked so much damage into Alicia’s ribcage, that Alicia was unable to hold a suplex form and tipped over. The hugger swooped in and won the pin, and her chance for the Raw Women’s Title.
Backstage, Natalya watched the end of the match with Rhonda. Neither seemed worried, though Rhonda took note of how Bayley had changed even since she had arrived to WWE.
***
You walked with hesitant steps towards Stephanie McMahon as she talked with a cluster of techies. “Ms. McMahon?”
With a grin, she waved the group away and turned to you. “You don’t have to be so formal, Y/N.”
“Ms. Stephanie?”
“Less than that.”
“Stephanie.” It felt weird to call your boss by her first name. But you had a mission to get to. “I’m going to cut to it; I think we should bring up the last match for the women’s fatal four-way to tonight.”
Her eyebrows shot up, but her head tilted in consideration. “Why do you say that?”
“As it stands, we have the Universal and the Intercontinental titles being defended at TLC. In a few minutes, there’s going to be a match for the tag team titles, which will probably lead to Curtis Axel and Bo Dallas accepting the challenge at TLC. That leaves just the Raw Women’s Championship. Why not make TLC a full championship set?” You dug your fingernails into your palm as she thought about it.
She nodded but frowned. “I thought the four-way was going to be a ladder match. Is that going to change too?”
“No, I think it should still be a ladder match. If Natalya agrees to let it go for a bit, I think the title hanging above the ring will make it intense and main-event worthy. The universe won’t be robbed, and it will be kind of like practice to whoever wins.” you added. “It is TLC, after all.”
Stephanie nodded again, smiling this time. “You are absolutely right, Y/N.” She patted your shoulder. “Good work.”
When she left, you breathed a sigh of relief.
***
Dean was more than ready for his and Roman’s match. If they won tonight, they’d be the number one contenders for the Raw Tag Team Titles. He paced furiously as he waited for Titus and Apollo Creed to make up their minds who was going to fight first. Who was going to face him. He laughed with Roman as they resorted to a quick rock-paper-scissors decision. Apollo it was. And Dean was ready. He bounced over, immediately reaching up to test Apollo’s grip. Then he swung in for everything he could to get Apollo on his knees and keep him there to wear him down. While he was dragging him to tag with Roman, Apollo escaped and ran to tag in Titus.
No matter. Roman eagerly accepted the tag. He repeatedly took the leader down to the mat, noting how Dana wasn’t there to take notes. None of his business; there was a match to win.
The Shield brothers had it in the bag. Their opponents were getting sluggish in their kick-outs. And tagging each other only seemed to hype them up.
Then Viktor and Konnor came out. They didn’t get in the ring. They stayed outside and distracted the guys while Titus, the legal man, sucked in enough oxygen to pull Dean into the center of the ring behind Roman’s back and pin him. Then he rolled out as fast as he could to escape the livid Ambrose. Apollo met him on the outside, not happy how they had won. Titus promised to discuss it later. They left without looking at the Ascension. Instead, keeping their focus on Dean and Roman in the ring as they took their retribution from their former opponents from Sunday.
***
The final match for the women’s fatal four-way did not end fair either.
You weren’t sure what Natalya had thought was going to happen when she scheduled Alexa Bliss and Sasha Banks to fight. Both women were known for giving their all for opportunities. This was no exception. Several times the ref had to physically pull one woman off the other to prevent a disqualification. There was nothing either woman was willing to do to ensure her spot.
Everything came to a head when Mickie got involved. While Alexa was complaining to the ref about an imaginary injury, Mickie climbed up onto the apron. Sasha mocked her saying, “oh, are you two back together again? How sweet.”
“At least I’ve got someone.”
Sasha rushed towards her and was promptly folded over the ropes. She fell back, then fought to stumble to her feet. Knowing Alexa, she would be ready with an attack. Sasha’s focus on where Alexa had been was too low. The ref moved out of the way as Alexa jumped and took Sasha out with a twisted Bliss. Mickie joined her, and they worked together to push Sasha out of the ring. They thought it was over.
Mickie fell forward. Alexa turned just in time to see the Raw Women’s Title rushing towards her face before it made contact. She dropped and curled into a ball next to her partner.
Natalya stood over them. “The pieces have been set,” she said. She walked to the corner of the ring and climbed the ropes. With the bodies of Alexa and Mickie still on the ground behind her, she lifted her title high.
***
For being the main event, the match was short between Jinder and Seth. Just ten minutes into what was supposed to be determining who went to TLC for the Intercontinental, you thought the show was going to end on time for once.
Jinder had over pushed himself on Sunday night. He had been so focused on maiming Seth earlier, he hadn’t taken into account how much that would take out of himself. Then he remembered it was a no disqualification match. Mentally he made a note to thank Baron. He rolled out and grabbed a chair from under the ring. Practice for TLC, he thought.
Seth was not amused. While Jinder tried to reenter the ring with his newly-found weapon, he snatched it out of his hands and tossed it away. He didn’t need it to beat Jinder. He didn’t need a chair to get what he wanted. Instead, he used his quick thinking and movements around the ring. It took Jinder a lot of energy to catch up with him, and he was rarely rewarded with keeping Seth down.
At one point the chair had come back into play. Jinder had it raised and Seth nearly ran into it but ducked at the last second. With a series of blows, he made Jinder drop his weapon. In a few more he had him staggering and in prime position for a blackout. Seth didn’t mind using the chair then since Jinder had fought so hard to include it in the match.
One, two, three. Seth was going to TLC’s ladder match against Elias, Dolph Ziggler, and Drew McIntrye.
***
Stephanie called you to the office. When you arrived, Corbin was standing to one side with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed across his chest. Her words made your heart drop to your shoes.
“What I have to say, is hard.” She gave you a sympathetic look, then turned her attention to Baron. “I never thought I could have been so wrong.”
Baron shook his head. “Wait, what?”
It was Stephanie’s turn to cross her arms. “I chose you because I thought you could live up to the ideals of how my husband and I have run this place. And I thought that since you had been in the business, that would give you the advantage over Kurt’s pick.” She talked over her shoulder at you. “No offense, Y/N. And nothing personal, just manager rivalry.”
“None taken,” you managed.
He sputtered and growled, “what did I do? I did everything I could to give your wrestlers their best chances.”
“Bull.”
You both fought not to gasp in this serious turn of events.
“Last week you did nothing but stir up more trouble for your peers, Y/N and the roster alike. Then this week,” she tsked, “while I was here to make some final decisions, you did nothing while chaos almost broke out at the beginning of the show. Y/N was the one who stopped it. Y/N was the one who made the match between Mojo and Kevin, and it turned out great. Y/N was the one who thought ahead and rearranged the matches so that another title could be defended at TLC. And where were you? In the office texting me hundreds of messages about how much you had done for WWE and the show. I didn’t see a smidgen of evidence of anything you said.”
You found your voice. “So… what are your saying?”
“I’m saying that Baron will not be managing with you next week, or at TLC. And there will be serious consequences if he interferes in your work like he did last week. It’s not final,” she hastily added, silencing Baron, “I want to see what you can do totally on your own knowing that you are being observed. Which was your grievance with last time, I think.”
You fell back to stabilize yourself on a wall. “Yes, ma’am.”
Stephanie fought a grin. “Just Stephanie. I wish you the best of luck, Y/N.” She glared at Baron one more time, then left the room before you could thank her.
{If you guys could give me a little feedback: do you want more or less descriptions of matches? I’ve tried to keep it minimal for the most part due to writing time, but even then I feel like they tend to drag. Would you prefer just to know the match and the outcome, or do you like the details? I’d still include such things as interferences. Please let me know with comments/reblogs/private messages. Thank you so much!}
The reader snarks that Dick should do something to keep her from wanting to go out in the dark. So he brings the darkness to her.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: SMUT, vampire play (can I call it that?) sir/sub, bondage, oral (female receiving), biting, slight bloodplay
Word Count: 1930
Note: Felt in a vampy mood. And it was DC week on my writing schedule. Happy month of Halloween! Tag lists and requests open as always. Enjoy!
“Dick, I swear by that bedazzled disco monstrosity you used to wear, if I find out you’ve lost my blaster wrist guards again I’m going to-“
His finger was on your lips in a second. “I did not lose them. And, for the record, I didn’t lose them the first time. I was modifying them.”
You scoffed. “I couldn’t get them to work for a month after you ‘modified’ them. Where are they this time?” He looked nervous. If you weren’t so worried for your gear it would have been cute. And hot how he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure-“
“Dick-“
“Stop saying it like that. You love my dick. Not a hundred percent sure, but I’m… fifty… six percent sure they are in the cave next to the computer. I was trying to download their diametrics- Y/N.” He sighed and caught your arm as you tried to leave the room. “If I can… upgrade them a bit I’ll feel better about sending you out there.”
It was a long ongoing debate. And it intensified at about the same time every year.
“Sweetie, you can’t keep worrying about me every time October rolls around. I’ve been doing this a while. I can handle it.” You gently removed his hand and headed towards your bedroom. It had been a long day… a long week. You were due for a shower and some sleep on your night off. “You know, if you wanted to keep me from seeking justice in the dark, you should probably find something to keep me here.”
The Wayne mansion may have been old as dirt and lacking in electrical outlets in the main house, but Bruce had spared no expense in the plumping. There was never a shortage of hot water. The great ventilation protected the tiles and woodwork and ensured the mirrors never fogged. Alfred was still your favorite. He was the one who had commissioned the giant fluffy towels unique to each team member.
You stepped out of the bathroom and found you couldn’t see a meter past your feet. The room was pitch dark.
“Dick?” you called. “Richard Grayson, what did you do?”
The bathroom light went out, making you squeak at first. Then you ducked and crouched to move around the room. You were just reaching for your emergency gun when a cold hand brushed across your knuckles. It caught you before you could move away. You were pulled to your feet and pinned against the wall.
“Tonight, darling, it’s not Richard.” Two bright red eyes opened in front of you. “It’s sir.”
With a snap, the room was barely illuminated by a series of candles set around. They had real flames and were too sporadic for him to have been able to light them electronically. And his eyes.
“How are you doing that?” They were mesmerizing. You couldn’t look away and let yourself be led to the bed.
“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered in a voice that sounded more like him. “You said you wanted something to keep you in tonight. I’ll answer anything you ask… later.” He tugged the towel and watched it fall to the floor with a groan. “If you still have voice enough to ask.” He grinned, showing off elongated canines and premolars.
Damn, that was hot.
He guided you to lay on the bed. Still mesmerized by his eyes and fluid movements, you didn’t notice the cuffs until they clicked into place. A twinge of panic made you pull at them. He laughed. Dick cupped your face in his hand and brought your attention back to him. Your writhing stilled. Your breathing evened. He smiled and leaned forward to capture you in the first kiss of many.
The fangs occasionally caught at your lips. His tongue delved deep into your mouth, mimicking the patterns you hoped he would replicate between your thighs later. You whined into his mouth; you wanted more. His tight grip suddenly on your hips cut you off at a gasp.
“Are you going to be good tonight, darling?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flashed.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he crooned. Again, his lips caught yours. He sucked on your bottom lip, then tilted your head for access to your neck. Your blood pounded in your ears the closer he came to your jugular. For a split second, you wondered if this really was your partner or something that had replaced him and was about to drink you dry. Weirder things had happened. The teeth did not connect. He breathed over your pulse point, sending goosebumps dancing across your skin. He kissed you softly, humming into your skin in a way only you would know.
It was him. And he was about to have his sweet wicked way with you.
“Please-“
“No. There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now I just want you to feel.” Dick leaned back and trailed his fingertips down your body. They weren’t as cold as before but compared to the heat of your body, they were like ice. Your body arched under his touch. If you couldn’t beg out loud, your body could do it for you. Including how your thighs rubbed together. Dick noticed and shifted down so he could lightly force them open.
All of your nerves shivered with anticipation. He dragged his nose down the center of your stomach, then down one thigh and up the other. You whimpered.
Dick smirked. “Always so difficult. Maybe I should keep you here all night.” He gave a slight tap to the underside of your thigh. “You know I am infinitely more patient than you. Don’t you agree?”
You nodded your head while your chest stuttered mid-heave.
“Good girl.”
You were forced to bite your lip. The cuffs jangled as you tightened your hold around them. Dick had pushed your thighs further apart and was flattening his tongue against you. Curling it into your heat. Lapping at you. More than tasting. Devouring. And those teeth would scrape on either side of your lips, making your hips jump as if you wanted to be bitten. All the while your throat felt like it was burning with all the sounds you couldn’t make. And Dick kept doing all he could to cause them.
“I like this game,” he purred, curling a finger into your heat. “Good training exercise. How to be silent when you need stealth.” He kissed your inner thigh and nipped at it with his teeth. “You’re doing so good, Y/N. So quiet… I can almost hear your heart thundering.”
It would not have surprised you if he could.
Dick added another finger to his ministrations and sucked lightly at your clit. He nipped harder at your thigh when you gasped. You thought he’d back off. Give you time to recover, perhaps. No. Instead, he moved faster. Sucked harder. Ate you out noisily and scissored you open while you gushed. Your body went rigid as he curled into the perfect place. He eased you through your orgasm, guiding you while also prolonging the pleasure until you were bucking away from his hand. He licked and nipped his way up to your breasts.
Although they were already at attention, Dick sucked on your nipples like he would during preparing you. It seemed he was preparing you for something more. Something you waited for on baited breath as he situated himself between your thighs. His length ran up through your folds, toying with your sensitivity.
“Are you ready to scream for me, darling?”
You nodded.
“Let me hear you, baby.”
“Yes, sir,” you moaned. Your voice was already wrecked.
Proudly, he grinned and his red eyes flashed. “Hold nothing back, now. I want all of it.”
There was a lot to give.
He filled you in one solid thrust. While your body adjusted, he panted and braced himself on either side of your body. Your eyes were too crossed to see much of his face.
“Always so perfect for me.” He leaned even more forward, taking the chance to undo your cuffs and to impossibly deepen his reach. “Mark me. Because I am going to be marking you.”
Naturally, your hands wrapped around to his back. You held on, digging your nails into his skin for stability.
His hips began a slow rhythm that got faster the more you screamed. He braced against the headboard for the both of you, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible. A strangled gasp escaped between his lips as your hips started to match his. Back and forth. The sound of everything he was doing to you was loud, so you had to be louder. He worked to make you louder.
You felt his hot breath on your neck before you felt his teeth. His shoulders rippled under your nails as you clawed them deeper. The bite made your body shudder and almost sent you over the edge.
“Please, sir, again.”
He chuckled low and dark. “Again, she asks.” He made you moan with a strong thrust before slowing down his pace. “And what will you give me for such a kiss, darling?”
With a shuddering breath, you turned your head closer to his ear. “More of me than I have ever been able to give you before.”
Dick growled and harshly twisted your neck so he could once again have access to your throat. His hips once again brought you to the precipice. They slammed into you over and over again. But he waited. Your high pitched moans and desperate clinging to him did nothing. He waited. He removed his hand for just a second, only enough so he could sling your leg higher over his hip. He waited until your eyes could no longer fight to stay open, and your breathing had reduced to shallow pants.
Then he bit you.
He bit at the curve of your neck just as it turned into your shoulder. There was a split-second pause, then your skin gave way to his teeth. Your body gave way to pleasure. And Dick fell along with you. His usual guttural cry was muffled against your skin. It vibrated through you and made you arch even closer to him.
Your bodies stuck together as he collapsed. You didn’t let go, not wanting him to leave. His warm body against yours was always the best part of the last thing you would remember before falling asleep. Still, he kissed over your bite mark and left for a minute. Your eyes drooped, but you could feel him taking care of your wound and cleaning you up.
When he finally slipped into bed, you hummed in delight and curled towards his chest. You decided you could fight sleep for just a little longer.
“How long had you been planning this?”
“Since you made me watch Queen of the Damned last month.”
You laughed and poked his chest. “I didn’t make you do anything. I was watching my movie and you plopped down and stole my popcorn. You’ve never complained about my smug indulgences before.”
He nuzzled at your jawline. “Not complaining now. I kinda liked how you reacted to me tonight.” You hissed as he nipped at your neck again with his fancy new teeth.
With a hushed sigh, you tilted your head to give him more access again. “What can I say? The best things happen in the dark. And baby, you are the best of darkness.”
When your best friend tells you all she had for breakfast Was a packet of Splenda and a Diet Coke, And she tells you that she’ll stop after she loses five more pounds, Do not believe her. Tell her mother. It does not matter how angry your friend gets. The pain of that will always be preferable to the pain Of seeing your best friend in four years Weighing as much as she does now Half-dead in the hospital.
When your father sneaks into your bed in the dead of the night, And he tells you that this is how fathers love their daughters, Do not believe him. Tell your English teacher. She will have read millions of stories of girls like you. There is a one in six chance that she will be a girl like you. There is a five in six chance that she will know what to say to you. There is a six in six chance that she will help you.
When your veins whisper to you in the moonlight And say that there are so many nightmares inside you That could be free If you would just open your arms, Do not believe them. Tell your school’s guidance counselor, No matter how scared you are Because whispers are liars, And opening your arms will only open the passage For more nightmares to climb in.
And when the therapists say that you are better, Totally better, And you don’t need to worry about the sadness again, Do not believe them. Always be cautious, because sadness has a way Of sneaking up on you When you’re not looking. Be careful. Be careful.
Woah
this fucking made me cry fuck
Note to everyone. Not just 13 year olds.
Okay I’m 13 and I really really needed this, but this goes to absolutely anyone.
Wish I read this at 13, passing it around so hopefully others will get the chance to see it
It’s the first week as an official co-manager of Raw with Baron Corbin. That would be fine… if he wasn’t rewriting everything the Reader had planned for the show.
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, Baron being a jerk
Word Count: 1864
Note: Again, super rushed, sorry. This week has been hard, but I’m hoping to get back into the swing of things over the next couple of days. And I am super excited for what I’ve got in store for TLC. If WWE doesn’t put it out there first. Which is seriously my biggest fear right now since what I’ve been writing (and planned months ago; i.e. Drew’s test of loyalties last week) has been so close to what has been actually happening on the show. Keep your fingers crossed that I can keep giving you guys unique content. Happy reading! Any and all feedback super appreciated!
No Way Jose’s peppy music started the night. He danced out with his conga line in tow, ready for his chance at participating in the TLC Intercontinental Championship fatal-four-way. He made his way around the ring and then danced in the center of it. Just as he finished, there was a record scratch followed by a bit of silence. Jose grinned as the stage lit up with Dolph Ziggler’s pink and star-studded entrance. Dolph came out, flanked by Drew McIntyre. They gave each other a fist bump before the Scottish Psychopath left, rushing to leave before the conga line could catch up with him.
The match was fast paced. Dolph’s speed and Jose’s sense of rhythm made for some interesting combinations of attacks and reversals. The longer it went on, the more Dolph became agitated. So much so, that he eventually went for a steel chair.
He swung it wildly while the referee stayed between him and Jose. The ref bounced off the canvas as Dolph shoved him to one side. As the chair descended onto Jose’s shoulders and back, the bell rang for the disqualification. He continued the assault until Jose stopped moving, whether from true injury or the illusion of one to end the fight. Dolph dropped the chair in one corner and froze. With a growl, he realized what he had just thrown away.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Baron Corbin walked out onto the stage. “Considering the circumstances, this match is still not finished.” Jose’s head wearily popped up. “It is going to start with a no disqualification stipulation. Ref, if you would.” He waited for the signal and the bell, then smiled.
Jose wobbled to his feet. Dolph picked the chair up again and swung. The first one was easily avoided, the second one not so much as Jose was too slow in seeing the chair approaching his stomach. He bent forward, then arched to stretch out the pain. Dolph used the stretch to use a Zig-Zag, winning the match.
***
Baron walked backstage and nearly ran into you. “What was that?” you demanded. “There was no call for that. Dolph cheated and that should have been it.”
He moved to push by you, but you stood in the way. He sighed. “You need to leave your personal vendetta against Dolph out of this. It’s up to us to make fair decisions and to reopen opportunities when they’ve been cut short.”
“Fair? It what you did had been fair, all of the matches would be no DQ.”
“That’s a great idea.” He heavily dropped his hand onto your shoulder, ignoring how you immediately pushed it away. “I’m glad you thought of it. I’ll make sure those rules are in place for Seth Rollin’s match against Jinder Mahal next week.” He turned with a short laugh.
“What? No, Corbin!” You had to fight not to stomp your foot like a child. No matter how much his retreating form irritated you.
***
There was another round planned for a spot in the women’s number one contender’s match at TLC. Natalya had left it up to you to make sure the right people made it to the match. It wasn’t hard considering Ruby Riott had already been planned to fight Nia Jax. What seemed to always be out of your reach was the Riott Squad’s ability to slip past security and make it to ringside.
Nia wasn’t worried. She wanted her title back and she was going to get it, no matter how many women she had to cut through. In no time at all, she had the upper hand and Ruby had retreated to a corner to whisper with her friends. Nia grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back into the center of the ring. Out of sight, Liv Morgan and Sarah Logan circled the ring. The ref was too busy making sure Nia let go of Ruby’s hair to notice as they crept onto the apron.
With a series of kicks, Ruby was able to get away and cry foul enough to hoard the ref’s attention. The Squad attacked. Once Nia was incapacitated enough, Ruby’s injured magically healed and she as able to surge back into the fray. A three-count later, Ruby Riott was officially another member of the TLC fatal-four-way. Only two more matches to go.
***
Backstage, You followed the sound of their cackling and blocked their path before they could flip the clipboard of a techie. “That was low, even for you.” You ignored Baron’s heavy footsteps coming to a stop behind you. “And I didn’t think you would want an outcome like this. You’re a great wrestler Ruby, but we can’t see your full potential if you keep letting your Squad intervene.”
Ruby shared a look with her girls and smiled with a shrug. “What’s done is done. Unless tonight is going to be a night of do-overs. Even then, I’d still win.” She cocked her head. “And my potential is just fine, for those who know where to look. It’s a simple preservation of energy. Squad or no squad, tonight proves I could have beaten Nia for the title.”
Baron sniggered, “I have to agree.”
“Shut up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.
He mocked motioned that he was hurt. “That’s no way to talk to your co-manager.”
“If my co-manager keeps acting like this,” you said, gritting your teeth, “he’s going to mysteriously go missing.” The Riott Squad gasped and huddled together as if watching a drama, minus the popcorn.
“Are you threat-“
“Ruby,” you said, turning your back on Baron, “I am going to let you stay in the fatal-four-way. Not because I think you earned it, but because I know that your actions are going to come full circle, with or without my interceding. Congratulations on your win tonight.”
The Riott Squad left in a chorus of giggles, obviously not perturbed by what you said.
***
Later that night, Dean and Roman had a tag match against the Ascension. All four of them were focused on their opposing forces. Roman was constantly cheering Dean on, and Dean was bouncing around the ring in a moody way. While his moves were just a powerful as normal, they were sloppy. Like he had something else on his mind. Roman didn’t seem to care, if he noticed at all. Dean was back and they had a match, and he was going to watch his back.
Viktor was suited to fight Dean. His lithe form made sure the movements were quick and surprising. Konnor was more suited to fight Roman. While they were not the same height, nor did they have the same strength, Konnor kept Roman on his toes. Both teams were made of battle brothers, willing to do anything for each other. Apparently, for the Ascension, that meant involving outside help. The sudden appearance of Jinder Mahal and Sunil Singh at ringside told the Universe that the Ascension was not going to be another squash match for the two Shield brothers.
Seth ran down to the ring, preventing Jinder from getting involved and catching Dean as Viktor threw him out of the ring. They had untangled themselves just in time to see the Ascension double-team Roman and win the pin.
The Shield took over the ring, but the damage had been done.
***
During the commercial break, Baron had made a match for the Superstar Show-Down. The battle lines drawn during the match were going to stand, including what you considered to be a strange an unnecessary alliance between Jinder and the Ascension.
This time, you were the one following Baron. And you weren’t going to mince words. “A good GM would make it a rematch just between Dean, Roman, and the Ascension. And leaving Jinder out of it.”
Baron didn’t look up from his notes. “Well, that shows how much of a terrible GM you’re going to be. That’s not how things are done around here. Especially now that I’m going to be making the majority of the matches.” He handed you the stack of papers and tapped them as if you were a secretary being given another task. Then he was gone. Again. And you were angry. Again.
You almost punched the person who tapped your shoulder. At the last second, you realized it was Mojo Rawley. “Mr. Rawley,” you puffed, relaxing yourself, “what can I do for you?”
He shuffled on his feet a little before answering. “I want a rematch with Finn Balor. It doesn’t have to be for the Universal tonight, but if I win I want to be declared the number one contender, and then get to face him in Australia.”
“I don’t know, Mojo-“
“I’ve already challenged him and he accepts as long as you clear the match.”
Compared with the rest of the night, this was probably going to be the only thing that went to plan. “Okay. You’ve got your match. Head towards Gorilla and I’ll tell Finn. Have fun.”
***
Mojo got his rematch. Well, most of it.
Kevin Owens had decided that he was not finished with Finn either. He too appeared at ringside and attempted to distract the Universal Champion. But his plan did not go as well as others had that night. Instead of giving Mojo and opening to win his contender spot, Mojo was too busy yelling at Kevin to go away. He turned around when Kevin shifted his gaze to behind him and rushed head-first into a harsh slingblade that wiped him out. Kevin watched with his hands on his head as Finn climbed to the top of the turnbuckles, then crashed down with a coup de grace.
It was a win. But not one that Finn considered wholly honorable. He helped Mojo to his feet and whispered, “you’ll get yar real re-match. Jus’ let me deal with ‘im first, yeah?” They shared a look, then slowly turned their attention to Kevin.
He nervously looked between them. To save face he began muttering about mind games. “You’re not going to always see me coming, Balor. I can promise you that.”
Finn grinned. “If ya say so. But I’ll see ya in Australia.”
Kevin made a hasty retreat while you set the match backstage.
***
He found you texting in the office and plopped down on the only chair in the room. “I think tonight went well.”
You grumbled, “I can’t say that I agree.” When Baron shrugged his shoulders, you let a tiny wave of anger rule you. “There was interference in every single match!”
“Not the first one-“
“You interfered in that one.”
“Oh, come on.” He stood. “You’re not still mad about-“
“Yes. Yes, I am.” You stepped away from him. “You know, the show would run a whole lot smoother if you would just stay out of my way.”
“You didn’t even want this job!”
“And yet here I am, cleaning up your catastrophe.” You were half a second away from finding a chair to stand on so you could glare at him properly when your phone rang.
Baron grinned as he saw who it was from. “Have fun explaining your catastrophe to Stephanie.” He continued to chuckle as you left the room.
Warnings/Promises: dub-con play (it’s a game, and consensual as set up by a not-included conversation), SMUT, dirty talk, slight bondage, begging, language
Word Count: 1110
Note: Kind of drabble sized but to the point. Tag lists, requests, and general questions open. Enjoy!
“Y/N.”
The timber of his voice made you shiver.
“I am not a patient man.”
Yeah, right. Former assassin and probably the record holder for longest stake-out, he had all night. You had all night. Or you would have if he wasn’t already in the room.
His boots stepped into view of your hiding place. You held your breath, waiting for them to pass. They moved on.
“Y/N.”
Large hands wrapped around your ankles and tugged you out from under the bed. The room tilted and you found yourself pinned to the bed. Bucky hovered over you and licked his lips hungrily.
“Under the bed, seriously?”
You gulped. “It was the best I could do under the circum-“
He hushed you with a finger over your lips. “No excuses.” His eyes raked over you and your skimpy night-time apparel. A minute later he was making the same observation over your naked form, your clothes haphazardly tossed around the room. When you tried to cover yourself, he pinned your wrists over your head. He rolled his hips, pressing his bulge against your sex and making you moan. “So, you do what this. I bet if I were to check you right now, you’d be soaking for me already.”
As his hand reached for the juncture of your thighs, you pressed them tightly together. Just because he’d caught you didn’t mean you were going to give up so easily. Bucky leaned close to your face, his eyes dark with so many promises of what he was going to do to you. His nose trailed across your cheekbone. His lips kissed lightly at the underside of your jaw. It was dangerously close to your sweet spot. He kissed around it, chuckling as you squirmed between getting away and trying to urge him to the spot.
“Are you going to play nice,” he whispered, “or am I going to have to take what I want?”
You whimpered and thrust your hips, but adamantly kept your thighs closed.
“Okay then.”
Bucky leaned back and made a show of taking off his belt. Weakly, you fought as he wrapped it around your wrists and attached it to the headboard. His hands trailed down your body. They stopped at your breasts, given them a tight squeeze that made you gasp. Your skin raised with bumps where he ran his fingers lower down your body. Taking hold of your thighs, he forced them apart to reveal your leaking sex.
He laughed. “Oh, yes. Very ready for me.” Your hips bucked as he ran a finger up through your slick. With widening eyes, you watched as he sucked his finger into his mouth for a taste, humming around it. As if greedy for more, he curled two fingers into you. He stroked and curled and thumbed at your clit until you were shaking.
Don’t cum. Not like this.
“Cum for me, baby. I know you can do it.” His hot breath was suddenly next to your ear. “And I know you want to.”
No. No. No.
He frowned as you shook your head. “Suit yourself.” Again, he licked his fingers. “I could taste you all night until you did cum, but something else needs attending to first.” He palmed over his bulge. There was nowhere to go with your wrists tied together, and the sound of his zipper made your chest tighten with your short breaths. He pinned your thighs open, thrusting his cock through your slick in a way that frustrated you to no end.
“Please,” you whimpered.
“What was that?”
What happened to having all night?
He thrust the head into your channel, then returned to torturing you.
Bucky. Bucky happened.
“Please,” you rasped, “please fuck me.”
“That was going to happen anyway, sweetheart.”
He slammed into you, filling you in one breath and shivering with a groan. You screamed as he did that over and over again. The headboard crashed against the wall. The belt was beginning to cut into your wrists. But all you could focus on was the way his pelvis crashing into you and how his thrusts cut through your attempts to breathe. Your name fell like a chant from his lips. A prayer where sometimes he was amused at your attempts to get away, and sometimes where all he could do was sing your praise.
“Taking me so good. Do you feel full? Do you feel how everything in your body sparks when I fuck you?” He twisted and kept going until your screams reached a higher pitch. “I found it,” he chuckled darkly. “And now the real fun begins. Or are you going to cum like a good girl?”
Yes. All of the above.
“No.” You closed your eyes but continued to meet his thrusts. “I don’t feel it.”
“Then I’m not working hard enough.”
Bucky tilted you back, deepening the angle that he could reach inside of you. You shrieked. Your eyes opened just enough to where he could see how they were rolled back in your head. He moved faster. One hand released your thigh and began to play at your clit. Circling it, pinching it. He tried everything he could to make your walls clamp around him. You were so close. And by the way his thrusts were getting sloppy despite their speed, so was he.
“Cum, Y/N. I’ll go all night if I have to. But you will cum.”
You couldn’t fight it anymore. With a shout, you fell apart. Bucky fell forward and fisted at the sheets as he followed you. His body landed on top of yours, sticking and bumping into one another as your chests rushed for oxygen.
You licked your lips while he untied your wrists. “That was-“
“Amazing.”
“Yeah.”
He pulled you to his chest and rubbed your wrists. A few seconds later you both burst into giggles. It had been something random. Something you wanted to do to prove to Bucky that you trusted him. That he could trust you too in that you would tell him if things had gone wrong. Which they hadn’t. You’d talked about it for almost a month before setting a date. Then, like an idiot, you had forgotten until he came home. Still, you weren’t going to argue with the results.
“I’m glad we found something new to do. If you liked it.” You did your best not to tense up in his embrace.
Bucky hummed and circled his thumb on your arm. “I think I did. Though I might need another round to be sure. Maybe where you have to look for me?”
It looks like the Reader has no way out when a role change is placed before her. If she accepts, everything will change; if she doesn’t… everything will still change, but possibly for the worst.
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, huge responsibility announced, fluffy/mushy cousin stuff
Word Count: 2850
Note: Due to what happened this week in my personal life, some of this is kind of rushed. Everything that needs to be said is said. Plot happens = mission accomplished. Any feedback is super appreciated. Enjoy!
Monday Night Raw – September 24, 2018 – Denver, CO
Kurt Angle waved away the “you suck” chants before they had much time to get started. “You’re probably going to mean those words here in a minute,” he joked, not smiling. “I need to address my absence from the past several weeks.”
He had to stop as Stephanie McMahon’s music cut through his next words. She didn’t say a thing, just joined him in the ring and stood in one corner.
After a deep breath, he continued. “As of the end of the show tonight, I will no longer be the manager of Raw.”
Again, Kurt had to wait for the audience to calm down before he could speak. “Over the past several weeks, certain steps have been taken, ones that I’m sure a few of you could read. Both Stephanie and I put our top choices for my replacement to the test by giving them weeks to run Raw. Since things went well, it is now time for me to step down, and for others to step up.”
Stephanie walked up to stand by him. “We all want to thank you for your time with us. While we have not always agreed, I wanted to thank you personally for all your sacrifices as well.” She shook his hand, ignoring how he didn’t seem to believe her words. “Now for the two to step up. And those co-managers are Baron Corbin and Y/N Ambrose.”
Baron went out first. He smirked from ear to ear, dressed to the nines in a nicer vest than usual and his signature expensive watch on his wrist.
You, on the other hand, were terrified. The announcement had come as a shock to you. Like you were the last one to know. The past several weeks had been so busy, there hadn’t been time to even think about this outcome. Just sparks of wondering. Your fears had just been justified last week. There wasn’t a way to disagree, not that Kurt had listened.
Baron grabbed your hand and shook it. “This is going to be interesting,” he muttered to you.
That it was.
***
Drew McIntyre and Rezar of the Authors of Pain had the first tournament match for the Intercontinental Championship. They had not gotten along last week, and that continued into the match. Drew had to admit, though, Rezar was powerful. And Rezar noted how Drew could move faster than he looked.
In the back, Akam and Drake Maverick watched the match on a screen. They flinched as their teammate was tossed around in ways none of them could have foreseen. Also, they cheered Rezar on when he successfully threw Drew out of the ring or flipped him onto the canvas. Things were going well.
A Claymore Kick ended the match.
The win and the adrenaline hit Drew hard. He went as far as placed one boot on Rezar’s chest as the ref held his arm up by the elbow. “You are nothing without your tag partner,” he called down. He repeated it as his opponent rolled to the outside of the ring.
“At least I tried to bring something to the group,” Rezar shot back. “Anything you do is credited to Dolph. He’s nothing without you, and he’s holding you back. How long are you going to let him?”
That stopped Drew cold. His hands tightened around the top rope, then loosened as he thought over those statements. Rezar was the one who left with the smile, while Drew seemed to be one concerned about the future.
***
It had taken some time, but you finally caught up with Kurt. He saw you and turned, as if trying to pretend he was busy and hadn’t seen you.
“Mr. Angle, we need to talk.” You kept the growl out of your voice, but just barely. “Why didn’t you tell me you were scouting me for general manager at the beginning? I could have prepared better, arranged matches differently-“
“You are more than qualified for this.”
“Three weeks and a PPV? I’m am incredibly underqualified!”
He looked away while you dug your fingernails into your palm. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think like other managers. If you had… I was afraid you would fall into the same mistakes instead of being you.” It was a weak argument and he knew it. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes; his hands rustled in his pockets. “When I told you last week, I had hoped the announcement this week would have been less of a shock.”
Now you did growl. “You said it like I had a few more weeks to learn the ropes. Possibly with you right there instead of dropping me into the deep end of the pool.”
“Is there a problem here?” Stephanie walked up behind Kurt.
You slid into a more neutral face. “No. The situation has been set and it’s unlikely to change.”
She glanced at Kurt then put on her sticky sweet smile. “You know, Y/N, you don’t have to accept the appointment. If you want to remain a journalist with us, you can. It’s your choice. Baron-“
“Baron Corbin will misuse his power the second he gets it. I don’t know why you picked him.”
“Y/N, sweetheart-“
“Since when do you call me sweetheart?”
Stephanie sputtered and gestured while she thought of something. “Today, I guess. Really, Y/N, I’m hurt that you don’t trust me.”
You snorted. “Ms. Stephanie, I doubt a sledgehammer to the kneecaps could hurt you. You are made of cold, unrelenting steel.”
“Thank you?” She shot a look at Kurt, who was doing his best to hide a smirk. “Now I know why he chose you. You’re not afraid to say what you mean. And that’s something that can be rare around here.”
At your sides, your hands twitched in and out of fists. “Maybe if it wasn’t so rare there would be less problems.” You held up your hand before either of them could speak. “I’m going to think about it. Don’t set anything in stone just yet. As for my ‘choice?’ No, I don’t have one; not really. Not if the only other leadership Raw is going to have is Corbin.” You turned on your heel and walked back the way you came, bumping shoulders with Dean and Roman.
Stephanie saw them coming and whispered to Kurt, “If she accepts, I hope she can handle the job. It would be a waste of time and money to have to replace her too.” She left quickly, leaving Kurt alone to deal with them. But he was ready more for some deep thinking than to assign matches.
Dean paused and looked back the way you went. He tapped Roman’s shoulder and left to find you.
Roman continued with their plan. “Kurt, we need to talk.”
“I’m not going to miss that,” he muttered under his breath. “What can I do for you Roman?”
“Dean and I still want a chance in the tag teams. We are very much aware of what’s going on-“
“Done. Heath and Rhino will meet you guys in the ring.” He sighed. “And you’re right. There’s a lot going on. But things can still move smoothly. If we try hard enough. Anything else?”
Roman shook his head at first, then huffed. “You should have told Y/N up front what filling in for you meant. She’s had enough surprises in life.”
“But do you think she’ll accept?”
“If the only option is Baron? Yeah, she’ll take the job. Because she cares about what happens around here. Something I thought you did too.”
***
The tag match was considered the most fun match of the night. Dean squaring against Heath Slater had the audience rolling. Roman against Rhyno had them reminiscing about the veteran’s ECW days. And the flurry of tag shifts kept the match moving quickly.
Then the mood shifted.
Dean and Roman were done having fun. They had requested the match so they could win. So they could make their new mark on the Raw tag team division. They switched focuses. Dean was fast and thought outside the box. And he knew how to out-maneuver Rhyno’s usual barreling through opponents. Roman had the size and power advantage on Heath. The father was the one to eat the pin, unable to be saved by his partner as Dean tripped him.
The two members of the Shield had another tag win under their belts. They butted heads and left the other men sprawled out on the canvas.
***
Natalya came out to the ring next. She was wearing the belt around her waist and stroked her personalized plates proudly. At the same time, she kept her hand on it possessively.
“Hello, Denver!” She smiled brightly at the welcome. “Well, I’m still the champion.” With a laugh, she did a little spin to show off the title to the whole arena. “And as such, I rule the women’s division here on Raw. So, I have come up with a challenge for my fellow women to determine who will face me at TLC. But I don’t want to face just one woman. No, no, no. I earned this title by beating two other women. What’s one more? At TLC, as backed up by the new management, there will be a fatal four-way for the Raw Women’s Championship.”
With a bit of show, she pulled out a list from a pocket inside her jacket. “Starting tonight, and each week going towards TLC, there will be a match to determine a member for the fatal four-way. I came up with the brackets myself, with a little bit of help from Y/N. Tonight, it is going to be Ember Moon versus my training partner and friend, Rhonda Rousey.” She paused and waited for the crowd’s reaction to die down a bit. “And for the other weeks… I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
She left the ring, waving the list around and flashing it to young fans. One little girl caught a good look and squealed in delight.
***
Dean rounded a corner and almost ran down the hallway, but he skidded to a stop just past your hiding place. There were always so many crates, and often they were stacked up high. Easy for someone to curl up into an alcove and think.
“Hey, ladybug. Been lookin’ for you all night.”
“Why?” Your voice bit into the air a little harder than you meant, but you were too stressed to care. Much. “I figured you and Roman would leave after your match.”
He nodded. “Roman and Seth are packing the car. It always takes forever to load up Seth’s stuff. I wanted to check on you. See if you were alright.” He made you scoot over so he could half sit on the crate too. “Are you alright?”
No.
“No. I’m not. I can’t do this Dean.” You curled your knees to your chest. “There’s too much going on. My brain can’t keep up with it all. All the paperwork and setting the matches. Making sure nobody beats each other up beforehand. But I don’t want to let anyone down.”
“You’re not. Trust me.” He sighed and grinned at you. “You got here all on your own. If I had known you were comin’ I would have helped. Knowin’ you, you probably would have told me to buzz off.”
He was straying from the point. “But Baron-“
“We can handle him if he gets too big for his boots. Don’t worry about us.” He paused and watched you bite your lip, holding back another thought. “Come on, if we’re doing the mushy stuff, get it all out now. What else is there?”
You thought back to how you left earlier, thinking about turning around when you overheard Stephanie. “Stephanie McMahon doesn’t think I’m going to be able to handle all this. She thinks I’m going to be a waste of time and money-“
“You can never be a waste of money,” Dean rushed. “You can waste someone’s time, you can waste their energy. But money is just money. People with it can get more, and people without it find a way to survive. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re a waste of funds. If that gets in your head, it will eat away at your soul until it kills your dream. You are not a waste of money.” His voice dropped to a hum and he knocked his head against yours. “You are never a waste.”
While you had known all of that already, it felt good to hear it. Especially from Dean. He followed you as you hopped off the crate, chuckling when you pulled him in for a hug. “I missed you calling me ladybug.”
Dean puffed. “I have too.” He gave your back a hard pat. “Okay, are we done with the mushy stuff?”
You laughed and pushed him away. “Yeah. We’re done. I’ll see you later. I’ve got to talk to Kurt.”
***
“Finn! Finn Balor!” Kevin Owens had taken over the ring, much to Natalya’s chagrin. He was pacing the ring, somewhere between anger and opportunistic.
Finn obliged. He came out onto the stage in a jacket that amplified how bright the Universal title was around his waist. “What do you want Kevin?” He continued down to the ring, making Kevin back up to the far ropes.
“I want to challenge you for my Universal Championship.”
“You… your’s?” Finn laughed. “Since when was t’is ever yours?”
Kevin sniggered. “Oh, don’t you remember? I beat everybody else after you had to give it up.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry. It must ‘ave slipped my mind. Second place never gets remembered.” He continued to grin while Kevin nodded in agreement.
“True. You’re right. Why would anyone want to remember how easy it was to replace you?”
Finn’s smile faded away. His head angled down towards his chest, creating a dark shadow over his eyes. “And you’re challenging me for tonight? I’m game. We can do this right now.” He moved to shed his jacket, but Kevin stopped him.
“No, no,” he squeaked, “not tonight. I want the great match I was robbed of last time.” The longer he spoke, the braver he became. “I want to take the Universal from you personally, instead of through a bunch of other contenders. The reason why it was taken from me so soon was because the line of succession had been interrupted. You… you didn’t get to fight me for it. This time you will. In Australia. Should you think you can handle it.” He dropped his mic and rolled out of the ring. Finn watched him intently, making him walk faster.
“Is t’at so?” Finn said, tapping his chin. “Then I will see you in Australia. In one form or another.” Finn laughed as Kevin gulped and hurried out of the arena.
***
Natalya gave Finn a little wave on his way out of the ring. “Now that’s over, it’s time for the first round of contenders for the Raw Women’s Championship.” She lowered her mic as Rhonda Rousey’s music played. Once she had made it to the ring, they both waited for Ember’s music.
But it never came.
Instead, the Riott Squad’s music took over the system. Ruby Riott strutted out, flanked by Liv Morgan and Sarah Logan. “Oh, Natty, Natty, Natty. I’m sorry that I have to break the news, but little Ember can’t make it to the ring.” Her pseudo-guilt slipped away into a mocking sneer that her companions joined in on. “Now, I know you told me earlier who I’m going to face in this… tournament. But that’s not fair to the other members of the Riott Squad who are also here every week.” Liv and Sarah walked around to stand in front of Ruby. They turned to face one another, then suddenly played a round of rock-paper-scissors. Liv won, high-fived the other two women, and strutted down to the ring.
Natalya was about to argue, but Rhonda tapped her arm. “I got this,” she mouthed. Natalya left with a shrug and a rough shoulder bump against Liv. Then the bell rang.
Liv knew every tricky move in the book. She was quick and zipped around the ring faster than Rhonda could keep up with. The mouse was playing with the cat. She knew if she got caught, the match would be over and her chance would be squandered. Liv hadn’t thought enough ahead about what she would do if she had to eventually fight Ruby. That wasn’t going to be an issue. Rhonda finally caught her and slammed her into the canvas, stopping her momentum. Once she was incapacitated, it was easy to put her in an armbar. An armbar that Liv fought against for a long while, but had to give up as she was far away from any of the ropes.
Rhonda was going to TLC. Once again, she was going to have to face her friend for a chance to leave her mark on the WWE Women’s Division.
The Reader needs some comfort. She finds it in cuddles with Dean and a little bit of time with guns and family.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: loss of a loved one, ANGST, food mention/eating, getting to shoot guns (non-live targets), FLUFF
Word Count: 1000
Note: I’m sorry this is not the smutty thing I wanted to share, but it’s what I needed. And the only thing I could seem to write. I didn’t mean to jip you guys two Dean fics in a row. Hopefully, the next fic will be better.
I couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt. Every muscle yearned for release as if from a brutal workout. My very heartstrings ached.
“Y/N?” Dean’s voice came before his gentle knock on the door. When I didn’t answer, he hesitated then slowly pushed the door open. “Oh, Y/N.”
Dean kneeled by my bed and pushed the hair out of my face. He grimaced to see how red and puffy it was. I closed my eyes, half hoping he would take the hint, and half hoping he wouldn’t. His hand smoothed across my forehead and down my cheeks, brushing away the wetness there. “What happened?”
How to say it? To say it out loud would make it final. Something I couldn’t change. Or maybe it was final.
“My mother called.” My face grew hot again. Tears I did not want threatened to spill. “I… she…” Breathe Y/N. That’s all you can do. Breathe. “My grandmother. She passed away last night.” My voice cracked. The already soaked pillowcase didn’t do a good job of hiding my face because Dean crawled in beside me.
He pulled me close so I could cry into his chest instead.
“Vampires and demons and monsters. I know how to kill them all. What was I supposed to do against this? Dementia hurt enough. Hearing the same stories over and over again. Fearing the day she would forget me. The stroke took everything else.” My voice shrank to a whisper. “She couldn’t speak a month ago.” The back of my throat hurt but I had to keep going or it would sink deeper and choke me. “But she knew me. She held my hand and squeezed it. She knew me.”
Dean rubbed my back. “She knew you. What about a couple of weeks ago? You never told me…”
“She was asleep.” I puffed a broken laugh. “She kind of looked like the pit mummies I learned about in class. Curled on her side, her hands pulled to her chest. The wrinkles I know… knew.” I thought back to it, my last visit. “I sat there for almost an hour trying to remember what she looked like over the years. My uncle tried talking me out of going to see her. Said I wouldn’t be able to see past how she looked at the end. But I could. Her squinty eyes when she laughed or was trying not to. How her nose would scrunch when she disapproved of what my brother or I was doing.”
He smiled. “I’m glad I got to meet her.”
Again, I laughed. “You were glad to have the Y/L/N breakfast. Nana gravy and Pop’s country ham especially.”
“Not only. I was also happy to hear all those embarrassing stories about you I’d never heard before.”
We shared a laugh, and I took note of how my chest didn’t hurt as much. Still, my skin buzzed. “I can’t lay here all day.”
He grunted in agreement.
“I need something to do. One thing I can complete, start to finish.” He wasn’t going to like it. “I need a case.”
“That’s the last thing you need to do right now.” Dean leaned back enough to look at my face. He thought for a moment. “We have a shooting range.”
“That should work.” I quickly crawled out of his arms and grabbed a flannel. “Let’s go.”
At first, I thought I would shoot a target or two, then maybe crash with a movie to not be alone with my thoughts. But the bunker was stocked. Like super stocked. Handguns of various weights. Tiny boot guns to heavy revolvers. The shotguns were probably the most satisfying. Whole sections of the paper targets were shredded. It matched what I felt like. What I wished I could do to the intangible illness that took my grandmother.
I shot targets for hours. Until my shoulder hurt and the smell of oil and gunpowder were burned into my nose. The smell of baking replaced it.
Dean was nearly comical to look at. The white apron had done nothing to keep flour from covering him up to his elbows or all over his face. To one side, it was a miracle he could still see the computer screen he was using for a recipe. On the counter was a large basket covered with a hand towel.
“Are those,” I gasped, “are those… Nana biscuits?”
He turned, surprised to hear my voice. “Ah, yeah. I, uh, I remembered you said something about filming your grandmother the last time she made her family-famous biscuits. I found it. I wanted to surprise you with a double batch, but it got away from me.” He held up his arms as proof.
There were enough to sink a ship. But the fridge was also stocked with everyone’s favorite jams and jellies. Dean put himself in charge of cooking up bacon while I fried bologna. Sam, when he finally got home with Cas, cooked eggs (scrambled and fried). Cas watched and snuck a biscuit with honey as an ‘appetizer.’
It was home.
After dinner, Cas pulled a few strings and snuck me in to see her heaven. I was there. The memory she was reliving was watching my brother and I play on the porch. It had been eventually closed in and functioned more like a hallway, but the kitchen alcove still had the windows that slid up and down. We were hopping through them, delivering supplies by one of Dad’s old toy covered wagons. She looked… content. Relaxed. Not in pain or searching for lost time. Like Nana.
“Thank you, Cas.” Heaven faded away as he brought us back to the bunker. I landed on the couch next to Dean.
My cheeks were warm again, and my chest ached. But in a good way. I knew it wouldn’t go away for a while. But I would get used to it, like a brick in my pocket. A weight that I would forget about for a while until she would come to mind. But that would be okay. I would be okay.
Our Deepest Desires 